Sorry ladies, I's Coming Off The Market

So I's in the Bone Wastes, exterminating cultists fer da shiny Marks of Kil'ifragilisticexpialidocious what my new Aldork buddies is all "gimme! gimme!" for. And outta the blue I gets a marriage proposal. Obviously, she is drawn irresistibly to me combination of jawdropping virility, clever wit, and enough stamina to tank a dragon and still keep posting every nubberflumping day of NoMoBloMeMoDuKo. Now, I don't wants to give the impression that I's easy by the fact that I accepted right away. Truth is, I's known her a while now and she is, by and large, worthy of me. Who is she? Well now, I ain't sure it'd be gentlemanly of me to reveal that information to you mangy buggers. She wants you to know, she'll tell ya herself. And no, it ain't Garona Halforcen or Tyrande Whisperwind, although them's good guesses.

So Ratter's days of sowing the wild oats is gonna be drawin' to a close. Get some oatifications while you cans, ladies. Once they's gone, they's gone (with exceptions for really special circumstances, of course).