I'd had enough of getting nowhere. It was time for action. I quickly summoned Trollop - the deranged and possibly clinically psychotic warp stalker was the only one of my pets who’d know the answer.
“What did Urtharo mean by realm change?” I asked.
Trollop looked pointedly at my bag. Equally pointedly I ignored the hint that a stack of Twilight Jasmine might facilitate an answer. Trollop shifted through the twisting nether to gaze at my bag from a slightly different angle. “No way,” I said. “You don’t fool me that easily twice.” I thought for a moment. “Well not three times, anyway.” Then he shifted and I thought he’d gone, except that a loud munching noise was coming from inside my bag. I reached in and picked him out by the scruff of his neck, with a bit of Twilight Jasmine still between his teeth. I popped him down and ignored him; I was thinking.
Could the cunning, evil guildnappers have kidnapped the entire guild and then jumped them to a new realm where unspeakable things were happening to the poor dears? Well certainly I'd ruled out nearly everything else.
I thought really hard for a moment and realised I was wrong. I could never, ever, in my wildest dreams call Forst a "poor dear". And Lolzator! He wrestled end-content bosses with his bare hands, and nothing to assist him but a big sword and lots of armour, gems and enchants; not a poor dear at all. And Nightbelf, who knew the way, always, without even knowing where I was or where I was trying to get to, and who was a master of "stun-stun-stun-stun-stun-Vanish-stealth". Not to mention Sooze, who could heal anything with her special brand of awesome awesomeness, and Skarrz, who only had to appear in an arena for the enemy to run screaming for their mummies. And Fysty, Mez, Zeld and Binkys and all the others. I realised with a shock that there was not one single "poor dear" among them. What a fool I'd been.
So why on earth did they let themselves get kidnapped? I hypothesised that the kidnappers were a gang of ruthless, violent, tough and very pretty girls, and that nobody fought back, except Sooze, but as nobody else was fighting and she had nobody to heal with her awesome awesomeness, there was little she could do. The men were herded into captivity with inane grins on their faces, and she probably resolved to go with them to keep them out of Certain Trouble, and maybe discuss Orgrimmar Fashion Week and have a manicure.
Meanwhile Trollop had run off, so I tracked him down, back at the same old postbox in the Valley of Wisdom. I couldn't understand why he would be so keen to see me fall prey to Mr Chilly’s letter bomb, but then I realised that Trollop would then have access to my secret stash of Twilight Jasmine.
I decided to pray to the Gods of Azeroth instead of the certain death opening up my postbox entailed. I took myself up to the highest place in Orgrimmar and prepared to commune with greatness. It was really weird, begging for answers from some mysterious being that was totally unresponsive. As I poured out my hopes and fears and of course my mind boggling, all-encompassing confusion to a greater, all powerful entity that might not even be there I nearly stopped because of the absurdity of it, but then I realised it was only exactly like talking to Forst, and I managed to get to the end of the prayer without feeling a total idiot.