Case in point. I leave old Azeroth behind, and head for the Outlands. Now, there's many a person who would tell you that Hellfire Peninsula is a nasty, dangerous place. It's full of bloodthirsty corrupted orcs (as if there's any other sort!), demons, and all other manner o' nasty creatures that really just need a good, hard, swift boot to the rear. An' to be set on fire. That seems to help a lot. Ah, the pleasures of toastin' marshy-mallows o'er a flaming demons corpse. Reminds me of Winter's Veil back home that one year... but, no, that's a story for another day.
Anyways, there I am, runnin' around Hellfire Peninsula and having a grand ol' time. Basically smashing, burning, bombing, and committin' other forms of heinous mayhem on whatever critter or creature happens to cross my path. And who do I stumble across? The bloody Cenarion Circle, I kid ya not. Oh, they're callin' themselves the Cenarion Expedition now, but ya look at 'em, and it's the same thing as in Silithus - a bunch o' handsomely brutal lookin', well-armed goons with a couple of tosh looking Night Elves runnin' the show.
One more time, with feelin', now - you know the tune. "Oh noble Dwarf... person... hero... yadda yadda yadda preserve the balance yadda yadda yadaa nature in harmony with Elune blah blah blah." Oh, and would you be so kind, Ms. Dwarf, to walk over that ridge and slaughter a few dozen hellboars and bring us back their blood? What for? Um... because... because... we want to... test it! Yes, yes, to test it for demonic contamination!
Bloody pig's knucles, lass, unless you missed the memo, they're hellboars. Want me to say it again for you, slow-like? They're HELL... boars. Hellboars. Say it wi' me now, lass. Hellllllllll boarrrrrrrrrrrrs. I think the whole matter of demonic corruption and contamination has been pretty well established by this point, aye?
Now... you and I, being logical and rational creatures who have somehow managed to keep our head out in the open instead of stuffed where the sun doesn't shine, we can follow that sort o' argument pretty well. I mean, we'd look at the foul smelling, nasty, green-glowing lil' piggies belchin' flame, say "Huh. Hellboars, eh? Looks like a demon ta me!" and that'd be it. But noooooo, they still want the blood, right? Sigh.
At least they're payin' for it.
I ask her about how they want me ta handle it - tranquilizer darts, maybe, and a clean syringe for each lil' hell piggy? I mean, c'mon, you're druids, after all. Gotta maintain the balance and all that, right? First, do no harm? Strikin' any bells there, Big Blue? Apparently not. They all look at me like I'm a bit touched, hand me a couple o' buckets, give me a bit of a wink, and shoo me on my way. Ma and Da didn't raise no dummies, so I take the hint and wander off into tha hills, doin' my best to look like something tasty. "You're always your own best bait", as my uncle Davey used ta' say before he went out huntin'.
A few minutes later, I come on back covered in gore, carryin' a few buckets o' foul hellboar blood, still glowin' from the nasty demonic taint. Would you look at that, now? I mean, the fact that the blood is itself trying to crawl out of the buckets and strangle the life outta ya could, I suppose, be taken as reasonable proof that it is, perhaps, demonic. Who am I to say, though? I'm just the errand girl.
So I hand over the blood, collect my reward, and then the tosh suggests that it would be in my best interest to get in touch with some of their folks just across the hills in a place called Zangarmarsh. Oh, joy. A whole bloody marsh filled with Cenarion Circle Expedition yahoos. I can already see what's waitin' for me - can ya guess? My crystal ball is tellin' me... ooooohhhmmm... there we go, they're goin' to want me to gather some weird herbs for 'em, and then probably ask me to slaughter defenseless creatures in the name of preserving nature, or some such.
Well, as it turns out, I was right... but that wasn't really the end o' tha story this time around.
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