“Well, Ah’m glad THAT’S over,” Ringo Flinthammer gasped, scraping off the sweet-smelling slime and wiping gobs of it off on the broad leaves of the surrounding jungle plants of the Stranglethorn Vale. “Ah didnae think we’d make it out o’ there alive.’
“Promise me that we will NEVER speak of this again,” Widge Gearloose shuddered, wringing the orange fluid out of his robe, and considering whether it might be better to just to burn the garment. “If we’re lucky, no one would believe us anyway.”
“Nae worries,” Ringo muttered, peeling off a boot and pulling out the tiny fish flailing around inside it. “Neither me wife nae yers would …”
“That did NOT count as a real marriage!” Widge yelped. “We would have been dead if I hadn’t agreed to … to … ugh.”
“Ah didnae e’en know they HAD princesses. Not that ye’d know she was a princess ta look at her.”
“Count yourself lucky to have seen as little of her as you did. I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight. Or able to eat noodles ever again.”
The sounds of flopping fish, dripping robes and ooze being flung away continued unabated for several minutes.
“So, what now?” Widge asked finally. “Fair’s fair: I can help you with the Bastion of Twilight portal now.”
“Nay,” Ringo sighed, pulling on the last of what passed for a clean set of clothes. “Ah reckon th’ Bastion has fallen by now. And Cho’gall weren’t ne’er gonna give me what Ah wanted; Ah were just clingin’ ta that so Ah would nae feel like a failure. The king will be cured, Ah’m sure o’ it, but no’ today and no’ by me.”
“Ah’m gonna go home. Ah miss me boy. Ah miss me wife. Ah miss home cookin’ and a warm bed an’ clean clothes an’ no’ fearin’ fer me life or me sanity e’ery moment o’ e’ery day.”
“That’s a good idea,” Widge said. “I can open a portal to Ironforge for us …”
“Wait!” Ringo held up a hand. “Th’ jungle ha’ gone quiet.”
“Ringo Flinthammer?” a deep voice came from the brush. “Son of Magnus and Brunhild Flinthammer?
“Who wants tae know?”
“I am Lesaris of the Avengers of Hyjal,” said the figure who stepped out of the jungle, his features shifting from that of a great jungle cat to that of a night elf. “I call upon you to make good a debt incurred on the slopes of Mount Hyjal by your late mother.”
“Khaz’goroth on a cracker … E’en one night at home is too much ta ask fer.”