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Your people. No. Her people were back in the Undercity, missing her and feeling slighted, unaware that she would like nothing more than to return and be among them once more.
I did not need to wait long for the first proof that Sylvanas does not even pretend to care for those she was let to lead.
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If Gallywix was right, he’d cheerfully destroyed his own island and a goodly number of innocent—well, comparatively innocent—goblins along with it. All for a piece of some kind of marvelous ore.
It was a beautiful life. And he had made many beautiful things. Well, beautiful might not be the right word. He’d made things that blew other things up in a spectacular fashion
“We’re dwarves,” she said, shrugging. “Words fly. Sometimes so do beer steins.
what was in Silithus, really, but giant bugs and Twilight cultists, both of which the world was better without?
It was a good thing there were Sentinels standing guard, she thought. Stoutarm’s wheezing and snorting otherwise would have brought the goblins down on them in droves just to shut him up.
“Actually, what the boss really calls it is ‘My Path to Ruling Azeroth with Lots of Statues to Glorious Me.’ ”
“Hope is what you have when all other things have failed you,”
“I will never, ever stop hoping for peace,” he said. His voice trembled with leashed emotion. “I have seen too much good in too many people to paint them all as evil and worthy of slaughter. And I will also never stop believing that people can change. But I realize now that I’ve been like a farmer expecting to harvest crops from a poisoned field. It’s simply not possible.”
“People can change,” Anduin repeated. “But some people will never—never—desire to do so. Sylvanas Windrunner is one of those.”
“I believe,” said Anduin Llane Wrynn, “that Sylvanas Windrunner is well and truly lost.”

