difficulties

Imbrey crouched down in hiding, sheltered from overhead surveillance by a massive, pink-leafed tree. Her geist squatted down beside her, using one long, crooked finger to poke through the dirt. Occasionally a wet, gurgly sound would escape its mouth hole, or whatever it had under there. Imbrey didn't really care to look.  "Bonethumper."

"Toooothgrinder, masssster," it hissed. With that, it proceeded to make a disturbing grinding noise, then spit out a chunk of something white.

"Okay, gross. Stop that. Now pay attention." Imbrey pointed at the floating island city of Dalaran. "Remember that time I had you--or one of your forms-- sneak into Gheldrin's quarters to steal his clothes so he'd have to slink around naked to find them?"

"Massster playsss ssstrange gamess," the geist noted.

​Shopping for female Elves was, quite possibly, one of the most difficult events a man could face. Especially when it was shopping for a nice gift to aid and accompany apology. 

​The first question that you always had to ask was "is this thoughtful enough", the answer was usually a resounding "no" followed by an incredible amount of over-thinking. If you could get past that, the second was always "am I going to look like I'm kissing ass," which always seemed to be a resounding "yes", inevitably starting the process back over again. The "will she like it"s and buyers regret came much later.

   I had found a sort of peace, it consisting of a rotted out bar in the Undercity and a main line of whiskey. But peace for me is never something that lasts for long and at the sound of my name, I didn’t even have to turn to know who stood behind me. Iloam.