The Adventures of Baron Von Wittgenstein

The Great and Renowned Baron Boris Von Wittgenstein's adventures have always been famous around Azeroth, enjoyed by all, younglings as old folks. Due resent events and the loss of his precious scribe most of the more present episodes haven't yet been shared by the bards. I sincerely hope the Baron will soon find a new scribe and his heroic deeds will be once again be written down and left for the world to enjoy. Meanwhile you all await his new epic stories with anticipation, I'll share some of his greatest stores, mostly from his time in the Outlands.

And so it was time, finally..  Azeroth had been empty for a couple of months and me, the handsome Baron Boris Von Wittgenstein, felt it was time to go to what the people called the Outland. I prepared myself as usual, downing a dwarven stout at the Guilded Rose in Stormwind, were I had spent the last year. I had a lot of great memories from this place, especially the time when I met up with my dear friend Cressida. She had disappeared a long time ago though, but I don’t blame her. As the famous Poet once said; “far from the eye, far from the heart”. Like all women she’d been madly in love with me and I bet she couldn’t coop with it. It’s not in my nature to only have one woman, created by the gods to please them all, and I always heard her cursing all women, whom she was calling “promiscuous”, around me.
Would I miss this place, I thought to myself? Nah.  It sure had some good memories, but it was time. A hero like me had nothing to do in Azeroth.  It was now what the council treasurer would call a lower demand than the supply of heroes around here. Since it was my call and the oath I sworn at my father’s last breath to be a hero, I had to continue. People will always need a hero like me, just not around here. And all those stories about the Outland I’ve heard people talking about.  It was time for fame and fortune! Evil around the corner to root out. People in need of my heroic deeds. And according to the stories there were plenty of demons to face.
I got up from the chair quickly, and the lady in my lap, almost fell to the floor because of the rapid movement. “Do not fear people of the Outland! Baron Boris Von Wittgenstein will come to your rescue”; I cried out as I kissed the lady goodbye. Now.. where did I leave my trusty stead?

“So here’s the famous Outland, clouded by a mist of legends and epic tales about heroism”, I said to myself when I stepped through the portal . This is the place for an adventurer and hero like me, not to mention that there will be a decent amount of women irresistible to my charm. With my father’s rapier tucked in the belt I to a step down the stairs closer to my adventure. At the end of the stairs a man clad in armor stood waiting for me. I would have shoved him aside since he was standing in my way since I had a full schedule of epic tales to complete, but something told me to take a second of my precious time and exchange a couple of words. I bowed my deepest bow greeting him, to show him my noble heritage.
“Welcome recruit!” the man said with a booming voice. What the fudge? Didn’t he know about me? Didn’t he recognize me? The famous Baron Von Wittgenstein? How could he not have noticed my reputation as a famous adventurer, hero and gentleman? “Excuse me, Sir, I am Bar..”. ”No time recruit! Mount up and get your simple ass to Honor Hold, we need fresh cannon fodder!” he shouted out, leaving me no time to finish my greeting. Well, I bet I was a simple misunderstanding from this simpleton. Normally I would have slapped him with my gaunt, challenging him to a duel. Maybe he had been too long is this place, that he forgot all about Von Wittgenstein, or maybe the tales about the brave Von Wittgenstein who had reach this part, been told by lousy Bards, distorted the image of me, making me look less handsome in the tales. Nah.. Impossible. Then man was clearly a local yokel and I wouldn’t waist more time on this man. I had a quest to fulfill. So to not make a scene, I decided to take the hippogriff to the place the man was referring.

Hah! Fun read. What a wonderfully callous, arrogant man! Looking forward to further installments.

Honor hold. Everything in ruins, desperate men, smelly barracks and cockroach in every corner. Even the inn made me shiver. I’ve never been in a more depressing place. I was hoping to be able to kick back after the long trip, washing down the dust in my throat enjoying the company of some lovely ladies. Boy was I going to get disappointed. The beer tasted like trogg piss and the only company I had to a woman was a bald old drunkard. Maybe I did the wrong thing to leave Azeroth and Stormwind I thought to myself. Half a second later I swept the thought away with the stinky beverage, and the obvious fact that Von Wittgenstein is never wrong. I will try and give this place a chance, there must be more to it than this pile of stones the called Honor Hold and the barren land of Hellfire peninsula.
As I took the last sip from the pint, the bald man gave me a weird look. I guess the absent of women, make then all strange out here. Quickly I decided to leave this place and head out for my call. So.. where should I start? If only I had my trusty squire Pellevin around, he would sure know where to look. It’s so hard to get a decent squire now days. Pellevin was one of the few that actually met the qualifications: always thinking by himself without me telling him what to do every second. Plus he was strong as a kodo, though I never had any armor to let him carry around. Well enough of these depressing thoughts and with firm steps I started to walk out from the inn.

Two days had passed. The barren landscape of Hellfire didn’t have much to offer for a man like me. Crowded with overgrown boars and barbaric orcs, it was not a pleasant place to be travel around. Luckily for me, and the poor people of Hellfire, I am a rough man, who doesn’t succumb just because the climate is a bit harsh. Grown up in the Barony in Wettlands, with the constant threat from the orc clans made me a hard-bitten man. I could tell that the hopeless inhabitants of Hellfire were in need of a hero like me, to inspire them and to give them hope.
I had helped the people of honor hold a great deal and when I was ready to take my leave they offered me a gift, a elaborate sword of excellent craftsmanship, as a token of gratitude for my deeds. I was ready to turn down the offer, since I still had my father’s rapier, but to neglect that gift from the poor people, who clearly saw me as their savior was hard. So I decided to keep it for a while. “It actually suits me” I thought as I stood there waiting. I stroke the pummel of the sword, as gently as a mother would stroke her baby.
The door swung open and a horrible stench found its way to my nostrils. “Ye turn” said the stuntie, with a big smile, tucking his tarbard back in the belt. I peaked in and cursed the architecture of the outhouse and the food of this horrible place. There’s always a downside with traveling, the bards never tell in their tales.

Rinoi wrote:Hah! Fun read. What a wonderfully callous, arrogant man! Looking forward to further installments.

Thanks. His avdventures through Outland made him pretty negative though and he was not at all happy about the new place. But recently alot has changed through Northrend and Pandaria and since the establishment of his castle has become his old self (with a ego the size of gronn)

really fun read! keep it up, I'll definitely keep reading the next ones.

Dim light beams shot through the canopy of the overgrown mushrooms. I could hear the constant buzzing from the mosquitoes that were as big as largest griffins in the Hinterlands. As I stood there knee-deep in the cold marsh water, with pretty much all my clothing soaking wet, I was wondering what I had done to deserve this. Not even the Dustwallow Marsh could compete with this horrible place, especially since the inn in Theramore was ten times better than the establishments around here. The Cenarion expedition outpost I’ve been passing through earlier, at least had an inn, but it didn’t really meet the expectations from a man of my birth.
I took a bite of the [ravager dog], the gift from Anchorite Yrai. Whatever “Anchorite” meant, she sure was a good looking woman. I was hoping it was a title for promiscuous, or at least courtesan. Of course a draenei lady wouldn’t be my first choice, but you have to try everything once, as I use to say. The Baron isn’t afraid of trying something new. Wasn’t it that adventurous spirit, that had lead me on my epic quest and finally made me go through the portal to the Outlands? As a matter of fact there was the tale about the Baron and the two lovely darnassian ladies from Auberine, know to the world through the famous bards. So the Baron wasn’t unaccustomed to the exotic and foreign. The tale wasn’t entirely true though, but it just made the tale more vivid. In fact it was only one darnassian lady, but I guess she was half breed or just a normal lady with a slender body and a weird accent. It was a good night as far as I could recall.
Anyhow, it sure was a good sausage. I could feel my athletic body regaining energy and kept on wading through the cold water. The upcoming encounter with the evil nagas, apparently draining the swamp from water, didn’t worry me at all. I had met worse foes before and I was glad the druids asked me to help them out. As a hero I am bound to help those in need and it was going to be a good story to be told by the bards. Though draining this place wouldn’t be such a bad idea, I thought for myself, feeling my wet socks.

Lady Balinda Stonehearth

“Oh no! Lady Balinda Stonehearth is in danger!”; I cried out as I saw the horde sweeping forth over Fields of strife, “ Do not fear my Lady, Baron Von Wittgenstein will save you!”.
For some reason, this small stuntie, I stumble upon after a night in Shattrath, had dared me into seeking fame and fortune, in a battle at Alterac Valley. I had of course been unable to turn down such an offer and now found myself with a bit of bursting headache in the middle of the battle scared valley. Truth to be told I never turned down an offer that would take me back to the old world; Azeroth, anyway.
I turned my trusty steed around. I have had to get a new companion since the last horse had turned to old, but I have to admit, that even if it wasn’t as loyal, it sure wasn’t as lazy as the old pinto. Rushing into the hold, I found the lady in the middle of the room, standing all alone.
“My Lady! How dare the guards leave you here all alone? Have the no shame leaving a defenseless woman? I will protect you with my life!”
I turned around ready to face the army rushing closer, crushing everything in its way, like a gnomish machine running rampage. I could feel Lady Stonehearth’s eyes watching me with ave, and taking a sneak peak at my bum of steel. This was no match for a hero like me. I have face worse danger on my travels and I would let no force of evil get their dirty hands on a lady on my watch.
I raised my rapier, ready to face the incoming horde, and ”Smack”. A curtain of stars went down in front of my eyes. “A sucker punch! How ignoble!”; was the last thing I thought, before everything went black.

The two huge, foul smelling ogres were looking down at me. The smell was horrible, even worse than a brothel in the dwarven district of Stormwind. I bet the worst stench came from the things hanging out from their mouths. It was hard to tell if it was last week’s dinner or the teeth themselves that had start to rot. At least it the odor from the two humanoids standing there covered up the stench from the tankard they were holding under my nose.
“You drink!” they said in unison.
“How did I end up in this mess?” I thought for myself, grabbing the tankard.
The past time I’ve spent in Nagrand, enjoying safari hunting with Hemet Nesingwary. But even if the climate was relatively bearable there compared to other places in Outlands, my adventurous soul, made me search for new adventures and challenges. If I would have wanted to settle down and live the life of a simpleton, I would have stayed in Wetlands and breed the grandchildren my dear mother always been nagging about. But not the Baron! I wasn’t just made for that type of life and I would be a waste of my potential and especially my stunning look.
So I took farewell of Nesingwary, his companions and the ladies from Telaar. Without turning around I mounted my steed and rode of in the sunset. I could sense the tears running down the cheeks of the ladies from losing one of the greatest men in their life, but that’s the price you have to pay, for experience a real man. After all it’s both a gift and a curse from the gods.
Soon the small mountain road took me to the place the call Blade’s Edge Mountains and an I found to my astonishment a pretty decent elven outpost, in common peoples standard, that is. My dry throat was thirsting for something take away the taste of travel dust, but as I would expect; Nothing!.. “How on Azeroth can they live without a decent stout?” As I was discussing with elven innkeeper about the flaws in their culture and especially the meaning of the word “Aqua-de-vie”, a chubby dwarf picked out my beautiful voice. The fellow traveler, as horrified as me, over the absence of proper brews in these parts, let me in a small secret. He had heard that the ogres down in the ravine been having experience with fermented brews. As a gentleman and hero, I promised the dwarf to help him out in his quest for decent beverage. Wasn’t it after all my call to help those in need and wasn’t this dwarf apparently in grave danger of dehydration?
So there I was in the middle of the two ogres, with my back against the huge barrel containing the beverage. “Could it have been that I made a mistake?” I closed my eyes and tried not to breathe through my perfectly shaped nose. Slowly I raised the wooden tankard, containing the liquid, to my lips. “Of course not! The Baron never makes mistakes!” I took another sip from the tankard, this time with my eyes open, letting the beverage pouring down my throat. These ogres knew what they were doing, and judging from the climate around here, there couldn’t be much other things to do than to perfect a craftsmanship as brewing.
“Are you just going to stand there? Now give me another round and pour some for yourself, ladies” I bellowed out with my manly voice, raising the tankard with [bloodmaul brutebane brew].



“So the lesson is to never try to out drink a Baron, even if you are an Ogre” I said handing over the tankard to the stuntie. The dwarf ogled me, while he suspiciously grabbed the object to the brim filled with the brew. “Never underestimate a true hero! I am not only skilled in fencing, saving women in need, but I am also a good drinker… and did I mention my stunning look and irresistible charm?”
As soon as the tankard reached his lips, the stuntie, spat out the brew all over the floor and my shiny boots.
“ACK! That’s the worst thing I ever tasted! I wouldn’t let my ram drink that!” he frowned.
I eyed the ugly dwarf for a second, grabbed the tankard and beat him hard over his face with the container. He went down like clubbed Clefthoof.