We all went through it. Workin' our way through Hellfire Peninsula, hackin' down unhousebroken orcs and demon pigs and them real nasty oozes. And while we was earnin' an honest living, killin' the bad guys fer thems what paid us, along came one of them gubberlunkin' giant robots, movin' way quieter than anything that dang big had a right to, and stomped our hard workin' arses inta the dirt.
And we hated them.
But the world is different now. We's in our eightieth season. Maybe we's got us a few epics, or even a crapton of them from Uld-25. Or maybe is all crafted blues and some drops from Old Strat. Don't matter. 'Cause now, we can go back to Hellfire, and we can give them flumperbuggin' toasters some. Old. Fashioned. Payback.
Revenge. It do taste sweet. Especiallies served cold.