The Prompt: What might your character’s ideal romantic partner be?
The stage is set with a set of three chairs on one side, and a single chair on the opposite. Numerous pink and red heart shapes are tacked up as decorations.
A kitschy game show tune plays.
Male tauren announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands and paws together for everyone’s favorite game show, LET’S MAKE A DATE, AZEROTH! Here’s our hostess with the mostest, Drexie Goldbolt!
Diminutive but dressed in a blindingly festooned suit, a female goblin bounds onto the stage and waves enthusiastically to the audience.
Drexie Goldbolt: Thanks for that fabulous intro, Tawny! Hello, hello! Welcome to Let’s Make a Date, Azeroth! You’ve already met our illustrious announcer, Mister Tawnhide, so let’s meet our lucky bachelorette! She hails from Quel’thalas and is a dedicated cat person. Her number of kills is bigger than Garrosh’s ego! She’s fierce, she’s adventurous, she’s a hero— she’s Ranger Captain Toriah!
Sounds of a struggle reach the stage as members of the show’s crew push the protesting blood elf into the spotlight by the single chair. She looks ill at ease in the flashy, showy dress the wardrobe department put her in, and less at ease as the center of attention. Drexie throws a comradely arm around the elf’s knees.
Drexie: Now, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself, Toriah? Can I call ya “Tori?”
Toriah: If it gets me out of here faster, fine.
Drexie: [winking at the audience] Told ya she was fiery, folks! Okay, seriously now. Please tell us a bit about yourself. It’s a good place to start.
Toriah: [shrugging nonchalantly] Not much to tell. I’m a Ranger Captain of the Farstriders of Quel’thalas. I’ve defeated troll lords, Ragnaros, Illidan, the Lich King, and Deathwing. A bunch of bad dragons and assorted villains besides.
Drexie: But no boyfriends?
Toriah: [does a double-take] Excuse me?
Drexie: C’mon, a pretty elf gal like you must’ve had a date at some point before you started being a big hero and all.
Toriah: Uh, no. Been a bit busy. Haven’t given it much thought. If you’re expecting some whimsical speech about how I like long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners, you’re going to be disappointed.
Drexie: Well, no wonder your friend nominated you for the show!
Toriah: Speaking of, who–?
Drexie: [ignoring the elf] Let’s move right along and introduce you to our bachelors, shall we? Bachelor number one is a bona fide prince, loves wearing red and gold, has gorgeous blonde locks, but doesn’t wear long ears like the other one. [winks knowingly] Bachelor number two used to be an archangel, but he’s not afraid to show you his big sword of justice— if you know what I mean. [pauses to enjoy the audience's laughter] Finally, bachelor number three is a homegrown man who will snap at you if you try to touch his hair but he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, at least.
Toriah: [looks mortified upon hearing the last "bachelor's" description] Nope, I am done. Look, let’s get one thing straight— I don’t need a man to be some arm candy for me. IF I find someone to get involved with, it won’t be through this medium because there is NO way I can accurately judge if a guy’s gonna be a good partner with me in an hour! I’m not just going to “fall in love” because someone can answer questions about a hypothetical situation. Anyone can do that. But if they crumble at the first sign of trouble, no amount of posturing is going to save them!
[throws hands up in exasperation]
This is absolutely inane, shallow, vapid, and… And… [catches sight of someone off stage] YOU! YOU SET THIS UP!! KRODAN BLOODBANE, YOU ARE IN HUGE TROUBLE!
The elf whistles sharply and starts for the opposite end of the stage, where a burly orc can be seen wrestling with the curtains, desperately trying to get away from Toriah. Emerging from the shadows on the stairs to the stage is a large lynx; it seems to grin at the bewildered orc. Lord Regent Lor’themar Theron, who had been convinced by some sorcery to be Bachelor #3, tosses a bow and quiver to the woman as she marches past, smiling slightly.
Off in the distance, an orc voice can be heard yelling out apologies. And possibly pleading for mercy.