What's a sin'dorei doing standing on the top of a windswept butte in Thousand Needles instead of the halls of Silvermoon?
It's simple. My brethren will no longer have me. Every copy of my treatise on natural cures for our magical addiction was burned.
I can safely pursue my research here, but I am without my reagents. If you'd be willing to gather purifying earth from the thundering boulderkin near the western end of the Needles and deliver it to my associate at Whitereach Post, I'd appreciate it.
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