Once upon a time, a young man lived a double life. In one world, he was a powerful sorcerer that bent the very elements of the world to his will. In the other, he was a rampant telephone banker taking phone calls from angry Americans without care for his own well-being. On a particularly challenging day at the call center, he reflected upon his alter-ego. Sigh, he thought, when I finally reach the apex of my power, there won’t even be many people on to share it with me, at least for three hours or so. And that fetid Naxxramas? Well, I guess I’ll look the other way unless some strangers decide to siege it. Damn timezones.

Then again, you can see some oftly nifty things the other way. Just last week these two dogs looked like they were fighting but they really weren’t. They were growling and biting, and looked like they were fighting, but then one howled and I realized that –

On one hand, his mage-side wanted to live and let live, friendships being what they were. The logical, banker, side of him prevailed however and he appealed to the powers that be to take him some place better. Somehow, his wallet felt instantly lighter and he had the grave feeling that all he knew was being left behind. Guild what-now?

Finally, when the dungeon masters of Washington Mutual released him, he summoned his will and returned home to explore his new magical land. Funny… everything looked exactly the same; a little more Earthen maybe, and definitely more Ringish. Bags? Check. Bank? Check. Cumberbun? Check. What was different, then? He looked around at Ironforge and then it hit him.

The silence.

He knew that the world he found himself in was richly inhabited but where were the the trade chatters? The general jokers? The bank-step barkers? As he pondered his dilemma, a soft voice floated through his mind.

WTS 120 cobalt bars, pst, no nubs plz.

Ah, it was a quieter world but some things would always remain the same. The young man walked, admiring the city of Ironforge anew. Then he noticed his reflection in the window of a local pub.

My guild tabard is gray! Boring, lame, way too “you’re not in a guild, dumbass”, gray!

Alas, this was the part he dreaded. He removed the tabard.

He continued on his walk, feeling somewhat lonely. I know, he thought, I’ll just use my handy dandy WoW-Census spell to check out the guild scene. Bring it on, world! Once cast, he fell into meditation.

Something tells me this is a world arife with mostly raiders. I see… playtime requirements. I see… he sighed. Magical charters and closed doors.

Damn you, world.

He continued on to the auction house to sell the various magical components he’d brought with him on his journey.

Whistling the theme from Tales from the Crypt and ready to loose a fierce cackle, he had an idea. I know, I’ll scout out guild tabards! And meditate! Thank you dear Yoda yoga, I’ll meditate and then I’ll know where to go!

Scout and meditate he did. Days were consumed in deep search. He lost himself in researching his meditations and, even while trapped in the world of telephone banking, he ruminated on the possibilities.

Frost Watch.

Frost Watch is where he would go… or try to anyways. Preparing himself for any possibility, he drafted a scrip destined to the leader of the frosty order. Then, he waited. And waited. And then, when it seemed that the tides may have turned against him, he was informed that he should wait a little while longer.

Not long after the last communication, he was contacted.

Malgos, a mysterious voice spoke in his mind. Are you ready to join the Watch?

Suppressing a light hearted squeal of “omgoshyesinvitemenowplz”, the young man solemnly replied; stoic like a Native American wood carving, grim like a wizard hidden deep within stone towers-

Absolutely am!

And instantly, he felt accepted. Though he saw no one in front of him, his mind was filled with a dozen echoes of welcome.

Gratuitously, he thanked everyone with unspoken words of return.

Turning, he saw a battlemaster. Accepting his call to arms, he was transported to the cold depths of Alterac Valley.

The young man fought valiantly, calling down the powers of doom on the heads of his enemies. Readying his most mighty spell, he felt knives pierce his back. His blood spilled onto the white snow as he turned to face his attacker. A small Blood Elf  faded into the shadows.

Drained and at death’s stoop, he fell to the ground.

Before his vision went gray and the world turned black, the elf returned.

Pausing for a moment, he seemed to contemplate what to do next. Then, decided, he knelt down beside him.

Moving to the left, then a little back to the right, the elf knelt again and completed the teabag.

Ah, the mage thought. This place is starting to feel like home already.