It’s funny how the littlest things can bring back the past, bring the game of several years ago back into sharp focus. As I was flitting around Ironforge, delivering a Lovely Charm to my favorite faction leader, I ran across Sognar Cliffbeard.
He’s not a quest giver. He doesn’t repair my goods or sell reagents. He only sells, well, meat. But Sognar and I, we used to be tight. I visited him every night I was on-line, buying one of his delectable offerings, Roasted Quail.
Once upon a time, hunters had to feed their pets. If your pet died, it got pissed. If it was too long since the last feeding, it got pissed. If you put it away in order to leap from tall places so that it didn’t drag aggro from the entire dungeon… you guessed it… it got pissed. Not only did you have to fill up a bag with arrows (or bullets), pots and food for yourself, but you always had greasy meat hanging around in your pack for your pet, because it was guaranteed to be miffed at you sometime during the evening.
For many moons, the Military Ward of Ironforge was my home
And Starweaver and Dusk my companions
And it only took a inconsequential dwarf, hawking his wares in a now abandoned district to bring it all back.