Night of the Living Dwarf
Jynnxe Jones, Staff Writer

Unless you've been living under a rock in Stranglethorn the last few weeks, you're probably at least vaguely aware of Stormwind's recent zombie plague. They're gone now, along with the squads of Argent Guard and Knights of the Ebon Blade who poured into the city in her hour of need and to whom we are eternally grateful. But it was scary for a while, and our elected officials, who at the first hint of trouble were suddenly nowhere to be found, have a lot to answer for.

What did we learn from this horrifying experience? I'll tell you what I learned. I learned that zombies are unstable. I don't mean they get all agitated and wander around downtown picking fights with strangers. I mean that parts of them fall off.

Which, oddly enough, brings us to the topic of dwarves.

Stereotypically, dwarves tend to be a solid, hard-working, generally humourless folk. These are the guys who spend their days either banging on things, getting them ready to be banged on, or packing them up afterwards to send back to whoever it was who needed them banged. Not very high on the thrill-o-meter, you'd probably say.

But that's Daytime Dwarf. Nighttime Dwarf is a whole different box of rocks. When the five o'clock bell goes, "Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Off to Work We Go" quickly turns into "Dwarves Just Wanna Have Fun" as Stormwind's entire dwarven population heads off to the pub to drink itself into unconsciousness.

But if your goal this Friday night is to cut a couple of dwarf-sized notches into your bedpost, there's some things you need to know.

The first is – and this may not be a problem for you but it is for me – dwarves of either sex just aren't that turned on by humans. We're too skinny, too tall, we talk funny and we don't have enough facial hair. Luckily, after enough Ironforge Pale Ale, dwarves become notoriously non-picky. Indeed, at some point in the evening every dwarf in the place will develop a roving eye and then it's just a matter of getting into their line of sight.

Timing can be an issue, since they have to be drunk enough to be open to offers but sober enough to be conscious. Also, you have to catch them just as they empty their last mug but before they have time to order the next one. And it's even more complicated if you're trying to line up more than one at the same time.

So imagine my chagrin when, after much fruitless endeavour I finally find myself upstairs at the Gilded Rose getting rhythmic with not one, not two, but THREE of Ironforge's finest, all of us after some careful choreography with fuses lit and rockets just starting to launch, when suddenly "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves" turns into the boxed set of "Ghouls Gone Wild".

At which point, as they are wont to with zombies, things started to become disconnected.

So there's me and three dwarves (and since there's only a limited number of ways this scenario can play out, probably what you're imagining is exactly how it looked) and the next thing I know, there's a flurry of movement and most of the dwarves are standing at the foot of the bed arguing about who gets to eat me first. And when I say "most" of the dwarves, what I mean is that THEY LEFT SOME VERY IMPORTANT PARTS OF THEMSELVES BEHIND.

Ewwwwwwww…

Things went downhiller after that, which is how I shortly thereafter found myself naked, in front of the Auction House, bent over and throwing up into the fountain. Not one of my prouder moments, and I want to thank the kind stranger who loaned me her cloak and walked me home afterwards. If you have to do the Walk of Shame, it's always nice to have company and be wearing clothes.

Summary: Achievement fail.

Next week: Booty Bay meets Boralus. See you there.

(With circulation in Stormwind City, Elwynn Forest, Duskshire, Northshire Abbey, Lakeshire, Ironforge, and wherever in Azeroth the good folk of Stormwind can be found, the Daily Mail is Stormwind's source for news you can trust. The Stormwind Daily Mail is a proud member of the Azeroth Media Group.)

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