The owl bowed with a flaunting wing, betraying just how human the mind of the bird was – with his regal, grammatically perfect orcish, he introduced himself:<br/><br/>“<b><span style="color: Gray">And I am Dr. Osbourne Maximillian Nobles, former Veteran Magi of the Kirin Tor and a reputable scientist in Dalarans interest if I should be so bold to say so myself. Often, people refer to me as Mr. Nobles, and for the sake of ease, let’s settle with that, dear.</span></b>”<br/><br/>Amos barely had the will-power to place that weak peck on her hand as good manners dictated him to. But the very moment he did, a surge of heroic confidence rolled through his body: He made it so far!<br/>And he wasn’t on fire yet!<br/><br/>The owl, no doubt quite at ease with confidence, continued conversationally:<br/><br/>“<b><span style="color: Gray">Oh don’t mind him, madam Risa: A heart of gold, he has. A bad habit of stammering when nervous but I’ll do what it takes to whip some more backbone into him.</span></b>” Mr. Nobles said and chuckled in only a way only an arrogant wizard could chuckle.<br/><br/><span style="color: RoyalBlue">“H-he says t-that all thing con-..uh-.. cons-s-s-idered, I’m a p-pretty fast learner, m-madam Sunstriker.</span>” Amos stated both in a spur of – to him- bravery as well as to defend his position as the underdog.<br/><br/>“<b><span style="color: Gray">Ah! Absolutely! Boy, you are a talent, a diamond in the rough: We just need to up the ante sometimes, put you in a situation outside your comfort zone, all that knick-knack.</span></b>” Mr Nobles piped on.<br/><br/>Amos felt a shiver run down his spine. Osbourne’s idea of “outside ones comfort zone” always involved often illegal and exclusively morally questionable scenarios, even by Kirin Tor standards. He never knew what that old crazy had in mind, and often it was as delirious as it was dangerous.<br/><br/>The young man gave the owl a spooked glance.<br/><br/>“<b><span style="color: Gray">Ah, but the tale of my metamorphism is regretful and does spur some irritation in my being. Sometimes, miscalculations combined with mixing methods of magic can backfire terribly. In this case, it was my incessant need to push boundaries, seek new theoretical frontiers and all such that put me in my predicament. I will tell you right away: Chaos Energy, Arcane Magic and maaaybe an unregulated spell or two can –really- stir things up.</span></b>”<br/><br/>The owl took a brief moment to sip from his bowl of Westfall Brandy, his feathers ruffling in delight:<br/><br/>“<b><span style="color: Gray">Exxxxquisite!</span></b>”<br/><br/>Amos had a hard time looking away from Risa – the poor boy was enthralled by her looks, trying to figure ways to not look too stupid.<br/>Then, with the appearance of the succubus behind Risa, his blood turned to ice. Figuratively, though Amos presumably had the ability to do so literally.<br/><br/>A warlock! He thought. Oh, he knew this was going to turn into an unlikeable day – of all the spooky mages and wizards, none really brought out the goose-bumps in him like fel-wizards. His involuntary hard-on, the one he apparently got simply by Risas presence, only quivered harder seeing a demoness specifically bred to charm. But it was mixed with a healthy dosage of horror.<br/><br/>It wasn’t really the warlocks themselves that got him worrying for his dear life.<br/><br/>But if Osbourne was in “that mood”, the crazy man-owl might whip some devious plan to test Amos’ resolve with some dumb test pitting him against the influences of the dark arts or something.<br/><br/>Corrupting half-demonic fel-wielders with delusions of world-domination was manageable – but ambitious magi mentors presented a whole other world of “Danger!”<br/><br/>Amos threw the owl another spooked expression.<br/><br/><b><span style="color: Gray">“Oh, and don’t be mistaken, madam Risa: I only choose the most promising talents – while my uhm.. shall we call it a mishap?</span></b>” – the owl chuckled, having the grace of mocking his own situation – “<b><span style="color: Gray">..it did revolutionize some theoretical approaches to polymorphing. I was starred in the “Dalaran Weekly”, front page, oh yes!</span></b>”<br/><br/>Osbourne made a dismissive gesture with his beautiful wing:<br/><br/><b><span style="color: Gray">“But alas, it’s all bragging. Dearest, let me inquire so brashly: there must be a reason a respectable lady as yourself comes to the seedy district of Booty Bay and I’m curious what in particular you like about this place? I mean, -something- must be to your liking, lest you wouldn’t be here in the first place.</span></b>”<br/><br/>Amos made a mental sigh of relief seeing that his mentor was busier enjoying the local patrons than planning head-strong tests of willpower on his behalf.<br/><br/>So, the young boy returned to be helplessly daunted by Risas close proximity.<br/><br/>He was very skilled at being daunted, so might as well do what you’re best at.<br/><br/>- - - -<br/><br/>Baqir, the tauren giant, sauntered to his iron-reinforced stool for the bigger patrons of the Salty Sailor – huge, plate-clad hands carefully held a comparably miniscule, flower-painted tea cup producing a silvery steam-line.<br/><br/>With a deep, thundering “<span style="color: SandyBrown"><b>Aaaaaaahhhh..</b></span>”, he sat down.<br/><br/>The tauren looked four sizes too big for the table, and based on his careless expression, not a single damn was given that day.<br/><br/>From one of his numerous satchel-bags appointed to his heavy mail-belt, the tauren brute extracted a broad, fat cigar with the Undermine logo attached to its commercial band. Using some rusty cigar-scissors, the brutish bull cut counter-clock wise around its edge, discarding the stump into an ash-tray.<br/>Then with surprisingly nimble fingers, he manifested a small, golden tinderbox, stuffed the poison-stick into his large maw and began sucking inwards as he began lighting.<br/><br/>Two steely, calm eyes took the opportunity to get an impression of tonight’s clientele.<br/><br/>Colourful, he deftly thought.<br/><br/>His immediate attention circled around the succubus who paraded through the inn like she owned the place – she was up to no good, but then again, demonesses of her sort never were. No news there.<br/>It didn’t take him long to find her “owner”.<br/><br/>He felt inkling to poke fun at them. Sometimes, casters got a bit too self-centred (Like that blabbering owl over there) and they positively hated being the butt-end of a joke.<br/><br/>A deep, amused snort bubbled in the brute of a bull. First thing was to enjoy his tea and kick back after a day’s long travel. He wasn’t exactly here to pull the house down.<br/>His glance fell on the worgen lady who seemed to share his objective. He inexcusably eyed her out, enjoying her feral features.<br/><br/>He couldn’t help it: He liked women of all shapes and sizes.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>