So there I was … a 47th Level Warlock with a specialty in demonology, ready to break through and level to 48. It was hot in Gadgetzan. Well, it’s always hot in Gadgetzan, since the sun is always at meridian height (Goblins are really kind of binary creatures when you get right down to it: Sun, No Sun, Buy, Sell, Live, Die … It’s no wonder that it’s always midday there during the day.)
It was just about time to take off for the Un’Goro Crater. I had a hot mission from the Arch Druid in Darnassus to secure some soil samples for … Whatever. I’m a Warlock not a tree-hugger, damnit. The Elf was offering me good coin to bring him a few bags of dirt, and I wasn’t about to turn my nose up at it. Not with the Azeroth economy looking like it does these days, what with the Gnomeregan Exile bailout and all.
No, sirree. I was on it like stink on a Noxious Ooze.
I was beatin’ feet to the local Gryphon Master to charter a flight when he came on me out of nowhere. Taking a right out of the armor repair shop, I found myself face to face with an 8-foot-tall Orc Warlock. Big, green and ugly (Which is a fair description of any Orc as they pretty much all look alike) … and as he stood there, quietly staring me down, I could tell he was open for business.
The next thing you know, the big pile of chartreuse pig-puss throws down a dueling flag.
It was like a moment from High Noon, and I was Sheriff Wil Kane. You could almost hear “Do not forsake me, oh my darling” playing in the background (almost, but not really, as playing this in-game would most certainly put Blizzard in an actionable position with the music publisher.)