I do hope you realise how much chaos and confusion your missive dated 30 September 2008 has sown in the world of Azeroth.
Never, I think, since the last invasion has a single person affected my life in such a drastic fashion. I have unexpectedly been wrenched out of my comfortable retirement and sent to the wilds of the, most appropriately named, Hinterlands. I am now relegated to the lowly task of gardener just to gather [Sungrass] for my, may she rot forever, employer. Flowersz may be her name, but I know for a fact that she doesn’t know one end of a trowel from another. She has absolutely no clue how much care and skill is involved in harvesting Sungrass, let alone the detailed knowledge required to prepare it for storage so it doesn’t rot.
To add insult to injury I have had to learn once again how to kill! I had hoped in my retirement to lay aside forever those foul skills for which my profession is justly reviled. I now find now that, yet again, I have to suffer the foul smells that result from corrupting the flesh of innocent savages who will not leave me alone to harvest in peace.
There has been a silver lining to this enterprise, though it might more appropriately be called a brass lining: I am accumulating a small nest egg (pun intended) from selling [Giant Egg]s to my associates for their cooking requirements.
Though I feel I must point out that I have still not recouped the financial losses incurred from having to fly to this god-forsaken place twice. On arrival I found that I had not packed suitable clothing; my most excellent town apparel is simply not up to the rigors of such a backward and out of the way county.
I hope you are feeling smug for ruining my retirement, and for dismissing any hope that I might have of forming a relationship with the extremely cute Auctioneer Lympkin.
Fellow of the Order of Puissant Warlocks [OP Warlocks] (retired)
Apologies for riffing on A letter from Maeri and Leoghan