Don Gorebash travels across the world, discovering many new and exciting places.
And so it came to pass that Gorebash did travel to the farthest reaches of Azeroth (for a level 40, anyways). And there he did meet a man. "Nice hat..." "Yes, it's an unusual style." And it would be in the past that the mighty Don would be bested and his hat forfeited to the green one (of questionable taste in fashion, drink, books, and really everything one can imagine). "Oh HO!", cried Don Gorebash. "This is a good hat. This is a fine stein. But it is empty. I shall travel the world (or just over to the inn that's just to his left, your right, where a variety of boozes are available) in search of a fine brew for the fine stein." And lo, did many people groan at having been forced to say "fine stein" twice in their heads. Make that thrice! AH HAH! But Don Gorebash was tired, and found comfort in the shade of a tall building. Too bad for Don Gorebash he didn't see the wyvern roost two stories up. Bad, too, that nobody told him they don't speak Hawaiian in Azeroth and that, long after he left on his adventures, his occasional postcards would only serve to confuse his friends and make them think that, perhaps, he was dropped as a child. From a very long way up. Onto an especially hard rock. A rock that would make other rocks say "Oh my, he's very hard indeed." That is, if rocks could talk in the first place. But they don't. They simply plot.