Lugging the metallic beacon dubbed "09" around for the better part of the week, it had taken long enough to find the crushed remains upon a rock protruding from a lake in the Hinterlands. Properly installing it, the owner of what appeared to be a chicken asked again for help. Rae wrinkled her nose, recognizing the voice of a goblin instantly with a shake of her head. Upon reluctantly agreeing to escort the chicken-bot to it's destination as per its owner's wishes, she found herself once again questioning her loyalty to these lackluster creatures. They aid the Horde, they aid the Alliance. Should they truly be trusted? Should they -hold- enough standard with me to have me running such a disgraceful errand? Rae spared a look to the warrior running beside her, clad in a mixture of plate and chainmail armor and supressed another sigh. Wolfhelm offered her a quirked eyebrow in question to the drawn expression on her delicately pointed features.
"This is hardly something a Night Elf should be doing. Again," she explained. At his continued look, she expounded, "Escorting a chicken robot for a goblin."
Her companion gave a matching shake of his head, earth-hued locks echoing the action. "This isn't something any race should being doing."
