In all honesty, I wasn't surprised the RNG had a bone to pick with me. Namely, it wanted me to try a monkey again. Random chance was never really random for me--it's well known in my family that the dice are trying to kill me. (Never get into a board game or roleplaying game with me--I'll die horribly within the first several rounds.) So it's no shock when monkey came up again. I've already had a monkey, but I wasn't about to just give up on the poor sap.
But I've already reviewed a monkey! The solution: Write something silly.
Prior monkey review is found here.
----
Feliandra Redlark, scout of the Alliance, was not one for monkeys. She looked at the letter--it had been written in smooth, dark red ink, written in deliberate strokes. She had posted a notice on one of the inn boards, requesting animals that needed to be tracked down and dealt with, or scouting missions that needed to be taken care of. She hadn't expected much of a response on the former, so she was surprised when the letter demanded she dealt with the monkeys lurking in the Deadmines. She figured it was one of those bleeding heart animal activists who had issues with animals being enslaved. Either way, they were paying great money, and Fel wasn't going to complain.
She entered the Deadmines with her loyal companion, Castiel (though more or less everyone called him Cas for short) to find these damned monkeys. Once you got past the reek of ogres and the possibly hazardous flames on the kobolds' skulls, the Deadmines wasn't too bad. Chilly, dank, and dark. A bit like Gilneas, in a way. Deeper in the mines, monkeys happened to be bleeding everywhere.
Between ghost-wolf and human-wolf, the goblins were rapidly dispatched and set free. Then she felt something tug on her tabard. She managed not to flinch, looking down at the small monkey grinning up at her. Fel had always been picky about her companions--she needed comrades who shared her ferocity and were willing to stand by her until the end. This grinning little bastard did not meet her criteria in anyway.
"I think you should let him stay, if only for a bit." Cas told her, pricking his ears.
Fel scowled, looking down at the monkey. "But it's so tiny." She protested.
"So was Chuck. You let him stay." The wolf retorted.
"Well, yes, but he can fly." She responded weakly. Judging from Cas' glare, he wasn't buying the excuse. With a sigh, Fel ordered Cas to make himself scarce, warning him that the monkey would stay for five minutes, and then she was going to let the bastard go in the forest, dammit! The wolf didn't even reply, gone without a trace. Feliandra peered at the spot where he stood, letting out another sigh, before looking back darkly at the tiny creature.
"Well," She said, reaching out with a bit of her energy, trying to form a bond. "Here goes nothing."

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"Light," She snarled to herself, as she furiously rubbed the hearthstone that bound her to the Drunken Hozen. "What the hell am I even going to name you?" At the inn, she took suggestions. One traveler recommended the name Fitzgerald--frankly, it was as good a name as any. Fel didn't care. She quietly cursed Cas' name under her breath, stomping out of the inn. Fitzgerald fell close behind, chattering excitedly. He didn't know what was happening, but damn it was exciting!

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The pandaren got a real kick out of seeing a large wolf-human stalking around with a tiny grey monkey. One dark look from Fel stomped their chortles, more or less, and she opted to kite ride back to the Valley where she was currently stationed. As she glided on her kite, Fitzgerald shrieking excitedly behind her, she remembered the source of her loathing.
Hozen. Light above, she hated the Hozen.
They stunk, spat, flung Light knew what at her. They shrieked and were stupid, and worse of all, they worked with the Horde. She didn't particularly dislike the Horde, and the Hozen and the Orcs were two of a kind, but anyone who sided with Hozen was definitely a threat. Mostly because they were ballsy enough to stick with the Hozen. Feliandra was pretty sure they found a kindred spirit, and she wouldn't be surprised if ogres started being stationed in Oggrimar.
To be fair, it wasn't hozen anymore that was the problem. Vermin, now. She didn't like vermin either. She was starting to dislike this whole damn continent and wished the mists hadn't parted at all. She sighed grumpily. Even worse, Fitzgerald was useless. It took her traps and several arrows to deal with an ambush--the monkey had been completely unhelpful.
As she tried to recollect her arrows and reset her traps, she heard an awful scream behind her. She whirled to find a large, furious vermin catapulting itself at her. Instinctually, she dropped to the ground, pretending she was dead. When she cracked an eye open, she saw Fitzgerald valiantly wrestling the vermin. It hissed and snapped, but Fitzgerald was far stronger.

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Soon, the vermin was lying on the ground, dead. Fitzgerald roared in triumph, chattering over and poking at Fel curiously. "I'm fine, I'm fine." The worgen snorted, pushing herself upright and looking at Fitz irritably. "Don't think this changes anything."
Fitzgerald shrieked excitedly, his tail trashing.
"Come on, Fel! He saved your life!" Feliandra started when she heard Cas' voice behind her. She twisted to peer at the ghost wolf with a hiss.
"No thanks to you," She replied.
Cas snorted, nudging the worgen.
"Don't be so damn grumpy." He insisted, pushing her upright.
"At least let him stay with the nice pandaren. He could help out on the farm." He said pleadingly.
"Light, Cas. When did you become a bleeding heart?" Fel demanded.
Cas grinned wolfishly at her.
With a final sigh, Fel nodded. "Fine, those farmers could probably use a crop-guard or something. I'm telling you though, no more monkeys. Ever."
---
Name: Feliandra
Level: 86
Exotics: Meh, not really.
Restrictions: Oh god. Not really, but knowing my luck...