On the third day after Thrall arrived in Theramore, Jaina sent word that the Goblin representatives had arrived and that they could discuss the price of using the Portal.
Thrall arrived early at the City Hall reception room, only to run into a Goblin decked out in gold and silver at the door. The moment the fellow's beady eyes spotted Thrall and his two guards, he began shouting, "Is that Great Chieftain Thrall? I am Rivendare, from The Golden Horde. What a pleasure to meet you here." As he spoke, he removed his top hat and bowed.
Thrall returned the bow. "Greetings, Prince. I look forward to working with you this time. Our people are waiting for aid."
"Of course, of course!" The Goblin's eyes narrowed into slits. Then he threw his arms around Thrall's leg and began wailing. "Great Chieftain, us Goblins have it hard! We barely have enough to eat, and whatever little money we earn has to be handed out in huge shares. Life is simply unbearable!"
Thrall could clearly feel his trousers growing damp. On closer thought, it was actually the Goblin's snot and tears. Disgusted, he shook his leg, but the Goblin clung to him like an octopus and only hugged tighter, crying even louder. "Great Chieftain, take pity on this old Goblin! I have hundreds of mouths to feed! I am truly miserable!"
"Ah?" Thrall had never seen such an emotionally expressive Goblin. He was nothing like the Rustwater Goblins Thrall had encountered before. Those Goblins had all been sharp-tongued and insatiably greedy. How could they compare to the pitiful creature sobbing around his leg?
But Thrall had seen mountains of corpses and seas of blood. This little performance was not enough to fool him. Still, having someone cling to his leg and cry