Scorched, crowded, and loud were all apt words to describe the bustling city of Orgrimmar. Races of every kind were hustling to their destinations, selling wares, buying wares, screaming obscenities, or any combination thereof. It was the perfect place to lose oneself. Ryo'jin honestly wished that was what he was here for. The truth of the matter was that he'd received a summons from none other than the Warchief of the Horde, someone Iloam had advised against refusing. Privately, he agreed, but that didn't mean he had to like it.