What's up, ladies.
I'm Victor Nefarius, Lord of Blackrock. Vic to my friends. How you doin'?
I used to be obsessed with my career. I was on my way to the top of Blackrock Mountain, and I had big plans. Lately, though, things have been quieter, and I have had more time to think about the things that are really important in my life.
Things like love.
I won't lie, back in my younger, headstrong days, I was a bit of a player. I was on top of the world, and I could have everything I wanted. Women meant nothing to me. Less than nothing.
I was too busy plotting against Ragnaros and breeding a super-race of chromatic dragons to realize how lonely I really was.
Every week, I threw a party on my specatcular terrace with forty of my closest friends, but even among that crowd of people, there was nobody who really understood me.
I made the mistake that all mortals make. Time does strange things to those who use it as a form of currency.
These days, life is quieter. The gatherings at my place are smaller and less frequent. My famous party trick, where I broke all the hunters' ranged weapons, stopped being funny a long time ago.
Now, I'd rather spend the a quiet evening at home instead of partying with Rend and the old crew in the Upper Spire. I'm looking for a woman who loves poetry, Indian food, whelp gauntlets, David Foster Wallace, and long walks in the Burning Steppes. And dogs. I hope you like dogs, because I've got a dog. Seriously, hanging out at my place is just like "Marley and Me," except a little different.
I'm ready to make a commitment, and I've got plenty of room if you want to move in here. But I'm not changing the decor. What can I say? I gotta be me.
If you're interested, drop me a line, and maybe we can get drinks sometime. As long as you're not a Republican. Or fat. The ball's in your court, Baby.
Let the games begin