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| - The hat seller hastily gather up her wares as the crazy old troll cackled madly at the furious human and night elf before him. "So, you have been speaking with that old dwarf Ironboot and uncovered the lost Mosh'aru Tablets, have you? That meddling prospector... No matter. It is too late to save this world. Hakkar has been reborn, and even now grows in power... deep in the ancient troll kingdom of Zul'Gurub! He has come! And he will rule in blood and terror! Thank you, Harlie. Your help has sped the return of the Soulflayer!" "Nice going," Feralle muttered to Harlie, reaching quickly behind her to unsling her rifle. "Hey! YOU thought it was a great idea too!" Harlie whispered back, hastily sprinkling an ominous green liquid on her blades. But before either could act, the servant of Hakkar was gone. Feralle loomed menacingly over the little haberdasher. "You didn't see ANYTHING." "How on earth did you ever get the entire Cartel mad at you?" Feralle yelled angrily, revving her motorcycle to put more distance between them and the angry mob of goblins chasing after them. Nestled in the sidecar, fighting through the miasma of the world's worst Evermurky headache, Harlie only grunted under the brim of her new pirate hat. Truth be told, she couldn't exactly remember where she'd gotten it or what exactly the bruisers in Booty Bay were upset about. But she was sure it would all blow over. Surely the gobs wouldn't hold too much of a grudge. Eranikus, Tyrant of the Dream, was consumed by the Light of Elune, and tranquility set back in over the Moonglade. As the last of the angry spirits vanished, Feralle looked at the chaos-wracked setting of the once-peaceful Moonglade and winced. "I TOLD you to warn the young druids in the glen before summoning an insane dragon spirit, didn't I?" Harlie rolled her eyes. "Details. we got the job done, didn't we?" Gazing down at the defeated body of his former jailer, Teron Gorefiend laughed, then looked gloatingly at the powerless pair of female adventurers he had so easily deceived. Deciding the two weren't worth his time, he disappeared toward the ominous Black Temple in the distance. "Hey Feralle," Harlie leaned a hand down to help her formerly paralyzed comrade back to her feet. "We're really bad at this, aren't we?" Loken the trickster, Loken the pitiless, Loken the corrupted looked smirkingly at his struggling captives as they were prepared to be carried off, then turned his attention to the battered pair in front of him. "As for your lives, mortals. I will be generous. After all... why would I destroy my most useful servants? I waited for you for weeks inside that Hyldnir mine. The shape wasn't mine, of course. And had you not been so reckless, you would've seen past my illusion. But you came through for me, and for that... I must thank you!" As the beam from the teleport faded, Harlie glanced angrily over at Feralle. "Don't say anything. NOT ONE WORD." Feralle ignored her, staring gloomily through the mist towards Ulduar. "You know, Harlie, I think we just might be the worst heroes ever."
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