Phrik takes a swig from his tankard before resuming an earnest but stupid expression. His eyes dart around the room constantly, undressing every female in the tavern. He makes no effort to hide his intentions. Most of them scoff softly and return their attention to their various social circles. But one raises her eyebrow and grins wickedly.
Emboldened, Phrik lurches from his chair, striding purposefully. Two steps away from her, a large Draenei male steps in front of her. Before Phrik can retreat, a fist comes out of nowhere, breaking his nose. His equilibrium already weakened by alcohol, Phrik falls to the floor. His back hits first and the air whooshes from his lungs. Then his head snaps back, slamming his skull into the floor. Stars explode in his eyes until the world turns black.
Hours later, he wakes to find himself in the alley behind the tavern. Looking up, he sees Nuru watching over him vigilantly. He relaxes when he sees that Nuru's claws are clean. He pauses for a moment, hypnotized by the ticking of Nuru's claws on the pavement. Shaking his head, he returns his gaze to just above Nuru's snout.
"I guess we should go back to the forest. Eh, buddy?" Phrik asks.
Nuru merely looks at Phrik expectantly, apparently waiting for him to do something. Phrik shrugs and begins to stand, sitting back down when the world starts spinning. He grabs a potion from his pack and splashes some on his face, and then drinks the rest. A half hour later, he vaults to his feet, clearly refreshed.
Hearing voices, Phrik fades into the shadows. Listening to the conversation, his eyes light up.
"Now, to find this Golden Veil," he whispers to himself.