Maintenance for Tuesday February 17th
A cool breeze moves across Osull's skin as he looks out upon the Azerothian skyline. The picturesque towering citadels of Dalaran float a mile high in the air before him. The breeze causes him to shiver briefly in his heavy plate armor, something is wrong.
The shiver has an almost mystical quality to it.
"Greetings," comes a wispy voice from everywhere but nowhere.
"We are performing our weekly scheduled maintenance this morning." Osull gets the feeling that something terrible is about to be said. Bracing himself and looking stoically out towards the bustling city in front of him, he is steadfast in the knowledge that no matter what the challenge before him, Humanity's spirit will always prevail.
"No realms will be... available," the voice says with a nearly sadistic tone to it. He gulps as he realizes that his very existence will be naught during these times, "between the hours of 5:00 a.m. and 11:00 a.m. PST."
The wispy voice fades off with a cackle, leaving him short of breath for a moment. Is this the end? Or will the realms be absent from reality for only a short time? The writings on the wall at W. Insider might be of consequence in the coming day.
Shaking off whatever feelings of mystical terror he has from the encounter with the strange voice, he is reassured that things will eventually return to normal. After all, similar Tuesdays have came and went without much hassle. Except for that one time, when the blasted wizards of the floating city misplaced all the mail in the known worlds. But that was just a single incident, and surely couldn't be repeated again.
At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.
Continue on to read Part II...
