Squinting at the sun, I sip what had to be me 9th cup of black coffee. It was still early in the day.
After I have me fill, I walk up to one of the camps in Felpaw Village hoping to warm me aching feet by the campfire. Naturally the corrupted inhabitants aren’t so pleased to see me. The deadwood avengers charge at me, enraged, and wail on me while the shamans stand back, shocking me with their lightning bolts. I then blast the furbolgs with holy nova, the golden lights repeatedly bursting outwards all around me, until they drop to their knees and keel over.
Rustling through their clothing, I look for loose change and pluck any feathers I find from their headdresses. These will come in handy later.
I pull out me canteen and update the tally in me notebook. Six more furbolgs down, which brought the total to roughly 1,500 defeated. I figure I have about 6,000 to go. Maybe less. Depends on how many deadwood headdress feathers I salvage. Ending the suffering of corrupted brethren of Timbermaw Hold isn’t enough. Their representatives want actual proof that I am thinning their numbers. Fair enough.
I rub me tired eyes and pour me 10th cup of black coffee.
It is going to be a long week.