Throgg's ears perked, flicking back and forth almost like a curious dog. The canine impression was enhanced by the way the orc cocked his head to the side. "What is that, Lolegolas?"
"Mmmhmm," the blood elf agreed. Lolegolas sat on a bar stool using an oiled rag to clean the chamber on his massive gun. The weapon was incredibly masculine, covered in duct tape and saw blades.
"I want to be a laser chicken!" Throgg insisted.
"You're an orc," Lolegolas insisted, lowering himself to recline on the lounge chair. "You can't even be a druid, let alone be a Moonkin."
"I'm not wearing it," Lolegolas said. "It's just not happening."
"But you're a spell guy now," Throgg countered. "You cast spells and stuff. Like, lightning bolts and fireballs. Magic missile. You're very impressive, and this is a very impressive cloak."
The gingerbread men were winning. Despite Throgg's valiant attack with Cookie's Tenderizer, the tiny pastry warriors were making their way over the ridge. But things went south when the gingerbread men reached the edge of the stove. Now Throgg and Lolegolas were huddled behind a kitchen island, ducking the assault of gumdrop buttons and candy canes.
"What are those, little elf?" Throgg asked.
Lolegolas stood near by, idly tossing two balls in the air. "Rajh's eyes. I'm trying to decide about using them."
"Elune," Throgg muttered. "I've never prayed you before. I have no tongue for it. No one, not even you, will remember if we were good men or bad. Why we fought, or why we died."
"This is totally not a Crest of Retribution," Throgg explained, hefting the new shield above his head. "That was a fine shield; a mainstay of the paladin and warrior orders. Those brave men would slap a shield spike on the Crest and use it to farm dozens of enemies at once."
Behold. Destroyer of Worlds.
"It is not a sword," Throgg insisted. "Not a sword. It's is a svord. Like, the svame vay you are svelte."
In which it has become time,
for Throgg to learn to rhyme.
Ali ali ali alimony, alimony
There are keys to the kingdom, and keys to the hot rod.
The "Mom" is supposed to be a tattoo.
Secret shout out?
It shoots rockets!
Do worgen really wear these?
Those are some badass gloves.
Quite the chapeau on that Worgen
"Wow," Lolegolas said. "Another sword, huh?" Throgg looked up from where he'd been busily grooming his monobrow with his tongue. "What you mean, little belfling?" "You have a different sword again," Lolegolas said. He tossed his flowing locks over his shoulder, revealing the glittering perfection of his chest. "You just had Kliklak's and now ... this."
"I can believe it!" Lolegolas replied. He shuffled his shoulder so that a flowing cascade of hair rippled over his shoulder like homespun gold. "What are they called?" "The Best. Bracers. Ever."
"Yeah, that's kind of what it's about, man," Lolegolas said. "What happened to Shadowmourne, exactly? You got the last shard over me, and I'd kind of like to know where the bloody sword went." Throgg laughed. "Oh, that old thing? I got in the beta. This is Kliklak's Fearsome Greatsword? Isn't it fierce? Isn't it great?"