[A letter sent to Sen’jin Village, written in a careful, steady hand. The postmark is from Dalaran, and there’s evidence of quite a journey on the battered envelope]
May this letter find you well, and the work in the Isles progressing steadily. I still recall the day we took them back…it is ever an honor to fight at your side. Or…I suppose more accurately, fight a bit ahead of you while dodging lightning and lava. Good thing you’ve a steady hand with them! The heat of Durotar was so welcome after so long in the cold…and the companionship even more so. My heart was more than a little heavy to leave, but there is work to be done yet.
The campaign in the Citadel goes well. We have breached the last of the Blood Queen’s defenses, and with the spirits willing, we will end her this eve. No fretting, little one…my armor is sturdy and my soul is strong. We will be victorious! Once she is ended, we go to fight the broodmother of these bone dragons, and then…the Lich King himself lies beyond. These have been great battles, and I am glad indeed to be in the vanguard…though it will be a happy day when I no longer must wear this armor. Though the Ashen Verdict swears it’s been purified, I sometimes think I can still hear the Old God’s whispers from all this saronite, calling me, telling me half-remembered secrets…but I will be strong, as I was at the Scarab Wall.
No more time tonight, beloved. The horn has sounded and I must go. Spirits ever guide you, little one!
[This letter is written in a more hurried version of the same hand, and there are more than a few smudges of dark dried blood on it]
We have won the last of the halls inside the spire! Sindragosa herself rests in peace again, for our blades and magic have ended her torment. Such a battle it was…I feel I will never be warm again. With luck and the grace of the spirits, I will soon be back in bright Durotar again, to warm up in the sun with you. I’ve thought of you so often in the nights here, camped in this evil, frigid citadel…
[There are a few words here that have been hurriedly scratched into oblivion, as if the author had a sudden change of heart]
Still, we rest again tonight, make our preparations, for above us lies the lair of the Lich King himself. It will be a great honor to fight him with our other champions…I fear not death this morning, beloved, save that it will grieve you in a way it would not an orc. If I die, it will be as the bold young Saurfang, in battle against a legend. And victory against such a foe, even shared with others…such thoughts give me fire and lightning in my blood. Perhaps when he is dead, the spirits here will be less restless…the ground itself shakes in torment, it seems.
Be well, my little one…I hear your work goes well in the Isles. Perhaps we shall be reunited soon!
There will be more letters to follow, and they might be to YOU! Send Kazimierz your in-character mail at firstname.lastname@example.org, and if it piques his interest, he’ll respond as a shaman, a loremaster, and a proud member of the Horde. Alliance letters are welcome, but use of a goblin messanger is strongly advised. T