Phat Loot Phriday: Iron Boot Flask

The four rode into Tirisfal without much fanfare. Lolegolas was careful to guide the party away from the dirt road, staying out of sight from the undead guards who stalked the kingdom's highway. Throgg grew increasingly quiet.
"I've not smelled Abercrombie," the Gilnean said quietly. "Not a whiff of a food court, Hot Topic, or Cinnabon within miles."
Miranda stared at the druid hard for a moment. "You stealing my gig, Spot?"
"My name is not Spot," the Gilnean replied absently. "We'll have to go into Undercity beneath Lordaeron." He frowned, and his jaw clenched. "Hate that place."
Lolegolas clapped the Gilnean on the shoulder, speaking quietly. "If it helps at all, we do, too. No one likes reminders of bad days."
"This is very touching, but let's keep to business. We'll need to take the sewer exit in," Miranda said. "We could maybe hitch a ride with one of the inevitable Alliance raids, but I think we're better off sneaking in. Ride flying mounts to stick near to the ceiling, maybe, until we get close to Sylvanas."
"And then we all die horribly?" Lolegolas said. "We can accomplish that plan anywhere, we don't have to go into Undercity to do it."
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