“Well, Ah reckon this is better than another long sea voyage,” Mountaineer Ringo Flinthammer told his wife and bear. “Remember the Ahn’Qiraj war?”
Beli Flinthammer groaned.
“Spend all that time at sea cold, miserable and pukin’ and they punish ye by droppin’ ye off in Kalimdor after.”
“Still, ‘s weird havin’ all these portals in Stormwind. ‘s like we’re bein’ stalked by Dalaran or somethin’.”
“DON’T USE THEM!” squawked a nearby human. “The Earthen Ring is attempting to hijack a franchise exclusively guaranteed to Stormwind’s mages …”
“We do not seek any such thing,” the nearby broken draenei protested. “We merely seek to allow the heroes of the Alliance more rapid access to the battlefields of …”
“SIGN MY PETITION!” the mage shrieked, waving a piece of parchment in Ringo’s face, eliciting a warning growl from Frostmaw. “The king must be made to see reason! Only mages should be transporting …”
Ringo held up a hand, even as Beli pushed the petition away.
“Wait. Are ye sayin’ that mages can get us instantly ta Uldum, instead of makin’ us sail across th’ Great Sea?”
“Well, no,” the mage sighed, his pointy hat slipping down over his eyes as he did. “But I could send you to Theramore for a small fee …”
“No good,” Beli snapped, dragging her husband through the portal, and snapping her fingers for the bear to follow them. “We’ve been to Theramore before. We ain’t payin’ for the privilege of going back to that stinkhole.”