The Sun had set like every other day and like every other night patrons began streaming into the remote tavern. They came in small groups, dividing themselves by faction, but that never lasted long... Once the mead and ale started flowing and the musicians took their instrumens all struggles were expelled and forgotten for the remainder of the night. This evening however both Horde and Alliance had forgotten their quarrels before even sampling their drinks. They swarmed to the bar to see a new trophy being placed. Appreciative murmurs could be heard as a cloaked Dwarf hung a skull on a nail above the counter.<br/><br/>The remains were obviosly of a Demon, the horns, teeth and jagged spikes only added to the mind's already grotesque depiction of what the creature might have looked like when it did not have a hole in it's cranium. As the cloaked figure hopped down from the counter on which it stood the soft clink of armor could be heard, slowly the deep hood that hung low, as to not betray it's wearer's visage, was pulled back to reveal a Dwarven woman. Her fiery red hair was weaved into a braid that hung to the middle of her back, her fair features would deceive many into thinking that she could be no older than twenty, but her amber eyes displayed a wisdom that could only come with age. She shifted for a moment beneath her cloak before pulling out a hefty-looking mace and holding in the air "First round's on me!" Lorim bellowed before the patrons errupted into a loud cheer and she slowly made her way to a free table near the band.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>