I understand those poor magic-missives-answering souls of the Horde who happen to have made, let's say questionable life choices in the past, are being berated by some Magister with, I believe the correct term is Fel Green eyes ?

Inflicting magical missives of shimmering vellum upon unsuspecting home decoration enthusiasts is certainly the proper way to entice said individuals to investigate unsavoury characters in Old Town.

It seems Prince Erazmin's loyal subjects have decided to repay their debt to us by bringing the wonders of modern technology (pools of grease and mechanized poultry) to Founder's Point. What is it, Stiffens ? Oh. Stiffens informs me they're King Mekkatorque's subjects now. Oh, well.

Never setting foot outside Housingplot House ever again.

The sands of time have found their way into this timerunner's undergarments.

Wouldn't want to alarm anyone but there's a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff over old Dalaran.

Can't a fellow unlock ley lines, indulge in arcwine, take it, as they say, one day at a time, without being rudely interrupted by prodigious verdant entities spawning upon the very stage of his heroics ?