Chapter 667

Chapter 667: Specialties of Ogaz

“Red dragons out of control? Well… the dark magic of the Dragonmaw Orcs? That seems plausible,” Greed hesitated, then lowered his voice and said, “What about the black dragon? Not mentioning it is just deception, isn’t it?”

“You don’t want to tell the townsfolk that Deathwing suddenly came back, do you?” Jesse rested his chin on his hand and murmured, “After all, he’s dead. Why make everyone nervous?”

Vereesa smiled at Jesse. Just then, the dwarf female sommelier leaned over and said, “Ah, dear allies! Gentlemen and lady, our handsome Wildhammer lad is here! How can I help?”

Hearing “handsome lad,” Jesse gave a shocked glance at Greed. “Blood sausage from Thelsamar!” Vereesa said quickly.

“No problem! Seems our blood sausage’s fame has reached the beautiful magical kingdom,” the sommelier said, her face wrinkling with a big smile as she looked at the others.

Jesse said, “Last time, I heard there were many Thelsamar foods… like soup? I didn’t have any last time. Can you recommend some?”

“The most famous here is the Ogaz goat milk soup,” the sommelier replied. “Want to try it? It uses goat cheese from Ogaz Gap, mixed with Thunderstrike beer, eggs, local black wild boar ham, mustard, and pepper, baked into a thick soup… If the elven lady likes sweet, we can add sweet milk; it’s great for dipping bread.”

Jesse’s stomach growled with hunger. He had eaten too many rotten apples and smelly smoked meat in Grim Batol, and just hearing about food made him feel bad. Vereesa sat beside him, swallowing hard.

Vereesa said, “I don’t want it sweet; I want the real Thelsamar flavor.”

“One bowl each!” Greed tapped the table and said, “And a big plate of bread; not that rough black bread… and no soft sweet stuff. The best kind!”

“Also, some roasted meat,” Jesse added. “Any special grilled meat here? Last time, I had bear meat and beer ribs. Anything you like, Vereesa?”

“Get that bear meat again; really,” Greed said. “I think the elf should try it.”

“Yes, bear meat! Sounds interesting,” Vereesa said. “Weald has bears, but Quel’Thalas doesn’t. I wonder how it tastes.”

Jesse nodded. “What about drinks?”

“Of course, Thunderstrike beer from Kharanos. When you last came, I drank with Daggett, but you didn’t,” Greed patted the table. “Start with six mugs of Thunderstrike beer!”

The sommelier beamed. “Alright, just a moment, everyone!”

“Daggett?” Vereesa asked as the sommelier left. “Who’s that? Your dwarf friend?”

“Sort of,” Greed replied. “He’s a Bronzebeard dwarf we met last time; part of the Explorer Association. He has a strange thing from Northrend, a woman’s head. It messed up his mind; he was babbling nonsense.”

As he spoke, Greed’s excitement faded, and Vereesa didn’t ask more.

“So, Jesse, the Red Dragon Queen said Deathwing found you,” he glanced at Jesse’s arm. “How did he put that mark on you?”

“In a dream,” Jesse said.

“In a dream?” Vereesa asked, surprised. “What kind?”

Jesse looked around to make sure no one heard, rubbed his forehead, and said, “Just a messy dream. He said he could make me live forever, in exchange for me going to Grim Batol to get the Demon Soul. Then, he wanted the Dragonmaw Orcs to use it for him, to protect the dragon eggs.”

“After that, he put this mark on my hand. I think he hears my words and sees what I see through it… and when I sleep, he torments me however he wants.”

“So that night, you had a dream from Deathwing?” Vereesa asked. “It was raining, right? We were in Tor’lonar.”

Jesse said, “Yes, that’s when he said he caught Krasus.”

“My god,” Greed shook his head. “What did you go through? Damn it.”

“I suspect someone in the Kirin Tor betrayed me and Master Krasus, telling Deathwing,” Jesse whispered. “I think it’s Kel’Thuzad, but I have no proof. Deathwing didn’t say anything about it in the dream. Honestly, I didn’t dare ask him. I plan to go to Dalaran when I visit my parents in Lordaeron, to see what’s up.”

“Kel’Thuzad,” Vereesa said. “He’s on the Kirin Tor Council; they might not back you against him.”

"Krasus would stand by my side," Jesse said. "I plan to find him first and discuss this. But you’re right—besides him, the Kirin Tor likely wouldn’t speak for me. Until I find solid evidence, I must pretend to know nothing around other Kirin Tor members."

Just then, the sommelier brought a plate of glistening blood sausage. "May yer bellies be full!" he declared in Language Dwarven. "Enough gloomy talk," Jesse grinned. "Try it, Vereesa."

Vereesa murmured "Hmm," speared a slice, and froze the moment it touched her tongue.

She stared at Jesse, then at Greed beside her. Forcing a single chew, she wrinkled her nose and gulped it down whole.

"How’s it taste?" Greed asked, barely hiding his amusement.

"Like when that troll knocked my teeth out last winter," Vereesa breathed. "Exactly."

"More for us, then!" Greed grabbed a slice. Jesse followed instantly. They wolfed down the entire plate like starving wolves.

As the plate emptied, steamy Ogaz goat milk soup arrived.

Jesse lifted his bowl and gulped a mouthful. The orange broth clung like porridge. Salty, roasted creaminess washed over him, soothing his journey’s weariness and filling the void left by his spent Flask of Distilled Wisdom… Especially when he bit into a smoked ham chunk—the savory burst felt like finding a priceless diamond in a heap of gravel.

Vereesa had foam from nose to chin. Greed slurped noisily. Jesse eyed the bread slices. "Oi! The bread!"

"Right!"

All three slammed down bowls and snatched bread. They dunked slices, stuffed mouths, then scraped bowls clean with crusts.

"Another bowl?" Vereesa cradled her empty dish.

"Save room for ale, Elven Wisp!" Greed boomed.

"My room’s plenty big," she retorted.

"Three more bowls, boss!" Greed roared.

Roasted meat, ale, creamy soup… They feasted until dusk. Midway through his third mug, Greed face-planted onto the table.

Jesse lowered his own mug. "Drunk already?"

"Exhausted, not drunk. He hasn’t slept underground, Jesse," Vereesa sighed. "Recall? He’s a dwarf."

"Right."

Jesse realized he hadn’t slept in days either—potions and blood-loss at Grim Batol kept fatigue at bay.

"Let’s get him to bed," Vereesa suggested.

Jesse drained his ale. Together, they hauled Greed downstairs to their room.

After tossing aside the dwarf’s cloak and luggage, they heaved the stone-heavy body onto the bed, collapsing breathless.

"Stormwind with him tomorrow?" Vereesa asked.

"Aye. Quel’Thalas for you?"

"Mm. Must report to Sylvanas swiftly." She stood, pulling her cloak tight. "I’ll stroll around Loch Modan first. Last visit was with the Farstriders, hunting that Death Knight… Angol the Dead Wish. Brief stay, but it’s beautiful."

"Coming?"

"Let’s go." Jesse yanked the imp from his coat. "Guard this room, Saenor. Protect his gold necklace with Molofeel."

"Understood!" The imp hopped onto the bed, then the stone table. "Get in here, Sayaad! Expecting me to guard cursed treasure alone?"

Molofeel slid from lamplight shadows. "Enjoy your stroll, *master*," it hissed.