I Don't EVEN Know What Fricking Day It Is

You are NOT going to believe this crap. I've been arrested. I'm sitting in the friggin' stockade. In the middle of Cesspool City. My cellmate is a thief or something who claims to be wrongly imprisoned, but since she keeps looking at me like my fashionable boots won't be mine much longer, I have my doubts.

I guess I'll have to bring you up to speed. Where the heck did I leave off? Oh yeah, Kurtok the Slayer. Why did nobody tell me he was a redhead? I have absolutely no control when a redhead walks into a room. I sort of "paid" for an audience with his Slayerness by getting reacquainted with my orc buddy from the day before, then...

Whoa. I don't even remember what we talked about, but I think it's been a week, so that's probably why. Or it's because talking wasn't required. Ladies reading this, if you ever find yourself in a compromising position with an orc, rear-entry is your way to go. I had to use liberal amounts of horse linament on those pulled groin muscles after the first day. They have very thick torsos, my friends. You won't be going missionary very often, if you know what's good for you.

And it was good. Oh my god. I have not spent so much time naked and sweaty since... crap, I think I've set my own record. There will be no topping this anytime soon. I may not have killed him like Marshall McDumbass wanted me to do, but I certainly halted any further advancements for several days.

It's times like these that I reflect on what I've done, and I pinpoint mistakes that may have led to my current predicament. For example, when leaving the smoldering vineyard slightly bowlegged and disheveled, maybe waving in a friendly manner at some of the orcs in full view of Northshire Abbey wasn't a good idea. Perhaps slapping an insignia bearing Kurtok's mark into Marshall McAssWipe's hand while sporting a shit-eating grin and several teeth-marks clearly not made in the thick of battle might have shown poor judgment. It could have been the flippant way I answered the marshall's question, "Were you successful killing Kurtok the Slayer?" with a rather cheeky "I brought him to his knees, I assure you of that!"

King Wrynn's men have no sense of humor. And they confiscated the first part of my diary. The guards snicker every time they pass my cell door. I am officially in hell now. With any luck, some Horde member will decide to go for the dungeon achievement and bust me out of here. Hear that, Horde? Willing to pay any price to get out of this place!