Dreams of Peace.
"Another round fer me, lass!"
"Incomin'!" Shouted the female bartender, her stocky build and her heavy accent defining her as a dwarf.
She filled a mug with an amber colored brew before sliding it on the counter where a big calloused hand was awaiting. It halted the slide of the mug and greedily warped around the handle, bringing it towards a face with a long black beard. The dwarf smiled as he took a deep gulp of his ale before wiping his beard with the back of his hand. Said dwarf had a shaved head, save for a ponytail sprouting from the back of the round head, and his skin was marked with ancestral tattoos. A shaman, a curator of souls and a mender of elements. To his left stood a human clad in black clothes, wearing a black cowboy hat and smoking a cigar. He lifted his head, showing a pair of crafty brown eyes, and smiled at the dwarf, who seemed more like a child playing with his favorite toy.
"Enjoying fine ale, eh Grembald?"
"Och, I haven't had ale from, emh, lemme see… from when I went on the Highlands helpin' th' adventurers defeat the cult!" Replied Grembald, taking another swig. "Wha' 'bout ye Mathiew?"
"Well, the battle for Wyrmrest wasn't as exciting as I expected… Especially with those of the horde roaming around…"
"An' wha' 'bout ye Tor?"
The human called Tor was gazing at the night sky visible from the window. His blue-black hair fell down covering the left half of his face. The other half of the face was that of a man around his mid-thirties wearing a pair of glasses. He turned his head at Grembald and simply replied.
"Not in the mood now, friend…"
"Oh, come on Tor! Nobody else but us knows your secret… Well, if us includes all the mortals at Wyrmrest, and all those mortals' friends and families… Well, yeah, nobody else."
"That's comforting as hells…" Sighed Tor.
"I dunnae knoo what's wrong with bein' a drake. I mean, sure, ye have a big burden to carry, but heck! It should be lots of fun!" Almost shouted Grembald.
At that moment the cheery dwarven bartender threw a curious glance at the group.
"Alcohol is getting on him…" Said Mathiew.
The bartender just gave a smile and returned to cleaning the mugs.
"You should stop drinking that…" murmured Tor at Grembald, who simply grinned.
"Och silly me! Sorreh lad… Uhm, if I can call ye that way… How old are ye actually?"
"Seventy two… So yes, since you are older than me you can technicaly call me that…" Sighed Tor.
"Well, just cheer up an' drink somethin'! Ye lassie!" Shouted Grembald catching the attention of the bartender.
"What can I do fer ya?" Asked the dwarven woman.
"Fill a mug o' ale fer me pal 'ere!"
The bartender grabbed a mug and filled it to the brim with ale, before sliding it on the counter. Tor catched the mug and glanced at Grembald.
"I shouldn't be drinking this, you know…"
"Och just enjoy it!"
After some time had passed, and after the mugs had emptied Grembald muttered to himself.
"Och, Deathwing is dead, an' th' world is safe again. I think peace is more reacheable than never now…"
He was cut short by a door slamming and a messenger running in. The boy panted heaveily for a bit of time before catching his breath and started talking.
"I bring dire news! The city of Theramore has been destroyed by the Horde!" He said before running out of the inn, without giving anyone the chance to respond.
"Crap…" Was all what Mathiew said before all the people in the inn, the staff of the tavern included, got out from the building murmuring to each other….
A/N
So, this is my very first attempt at a story. It isn't only alliance based, so, stay tuned fro the next chapter when I will introduce you to a part of the Horde group.
P.S
Please keep in mind that English is not my primary language.