"Look at that armor. What a shame." Gilly poured herself another glass of Dalaran's finest pinot noir - her third or forth, maybe. But, who's counting?
The subject of her comment was a full-figured dwarfess who came trampling into the Inn, head to toe covered in soot and what could be dried blood. But the true tragedy was the lack of coordination - a double-ringed silver halo hovered mystically behind her head, while her belt was adorned with gold accents. Gilly cringed at the sight. You never mix metals.
"Any self-respecting guild leader should expect more of their casters." She twirled a soft blonde ringlet around her finger, tilting her head as she sipped appreciatively at her wine. To her left sat Amán, a pretty-faced Draenei with deep blue curls almost as impeccably shaped as her own. Almost. With them at her right sat Trixx. What could you say about Trixx? She was a gnome, and Gilly supposed she was pretty enough, although her unnaturally magenta pigtails were their own brand of absurdity.
Well, that's the key to being a successful socialite in Azeroth. Surround yourself with pretty people, but not prettier than you. Gilly was, in her humble opinion, a member of the elite for looks in Dalaran. She came from a wealthy family, allowing her to live a cushy life far from battle scars and stress. She dabbled in the arcane, of course, but nothing too serious and certainly nothing dangerous. Her soft curves and crystalline blue eyes topped off an exquisite package. It was, quite frankly, a wonderful thing, being perfect.
Amán and Trixx were nothing to scoff at either, although not close enough to ever eclipse Gilly, naturally, and each had some odd quirks about them. But for a Draenei and a gnome, they were attractive and so she absorbed them into her Elite Wine Tasting Club and was pleasantly surprised to find them good company as well.
Together the triad enjoyed a life of luxury and gossip, socializing and criticizing, and Gilly, honestly, wouldn't want it any other way.
The gnome looked up from the book she was reading. Engineering, Gilly noted. Trixx had a thing about explosives.
"Who?" The tiny thing looked around with giant, pink-lashed eyes.
"That dwarf." Gilly gestured to the bar with her head, but the gnome just shrugged and went back to reading.
Gilly clicked her tongue in annoyance. The innkeeper admitted the dwarf a room, shooting the girls a nasty look once the mage had disappeared up the stairs.
The Draenei had her eyes closed, head bowed in silent prayer.
"It's only cheese, Amán."
"Every piece of food iz gift, Gilly. Ven we land our ship on Azeroth, we had no food of vater and many injured."
"It's 'water'."
"Thiz iz vat I say. Vah-ter..."
"Ugh!"
Just then, the innkeeper came over, clearly rustled.
"How many more days are you three going to come here and gossip about our patrons? You do realize they are contributing greatly to the future of our worlds, don't you?" She crossed her pudgy arms, attempting to look intimidating.
"We're contributing!" Gilly snapped back. "How else would anybody here know the relevant happenings in Azeroth?"
The innkeeper snarled.
"Unfounded rumors about which harlot the King is sleeping with is hardly relevant." Gilly shrugged.
"I strongly disagree." She gestured a checkmark in the air.
"How did you fools get to Dalaran, anyway? Clearly, none of you are experienced enough to be doing any worthwhile work." Amán perked up, gesturing towards Gilly.
"Mine sestra!" The innkeeper gave her a confused look. "She haz portal."
"Don't mind her," Trixx interjected. "She barely speaks common."
With a sigh of defeat, the innkeeper stormed off behind the bar, muttering vulgar nothings to herself.
"What a strumpet," Gilly announced in a low tone, so only her table mates could hear.
"Vatch you language!" Amán scowled. "Diz iz no way to speak for lady."
"No, but seriously, she needs to get buggered."
The conversation was interrupted by a sudden, looming shadow. Standing before them, blocking all the light due to his shear mass, was none other than a Night Elf, though shorter than most Gilly had met. He was decked out in what appeared to be high tier armor. He had dewy blue skin, turquoise hair tied back into a braid, and a round, young face. He bowed, excusing himself, and then laid out a quality stock parchment paper with impeccably written Statement of Intent or some-such. Gilly wondered if he was rich, leaning over with the most impeccable smile she could muster.
"Good evening, fine citizens. My name is Rheaven, druid and servant to Malfurion. I aim to lead a guild to join the fight in bringing the fury of Azeroth to the enemy's doorsteps."
Trixx tilted her head at him, eyes wide and impressed.
"How many turkeys did you kill for those shoulders?" He blinked.
"This is handcrafted raven-feathered enchanted armor, miss." She nodded blankly.
"But you are Raven?" Amán questioned. He raised an absurdly long eyebrow.
"What? Yes, I'm Rheaven. Or do you mean…. My armor is made of raven feath—"
"So you are cannibal?" Amán shouted, standing so abruptly her tail knocked her chair over. He took a step back, and the barmaid and several patrons turned their attention to the unfolding shenanigans.
"N..no. I…."
"Ooooo tell us more!" Trixx gazed up at him in genuine, innocent wonderment. He furrowed his brows, reconsidering what he was about to do.
"Anyway…" he eyed Gilly as if she was his last hope for sanity in the moment, though she was eyeing him like a starved saber would eye a baby merloc. "You all appear to be guildless, and I require a charter to .." He paused, watching in awe as she finished her glass and was now unceremoniously chugging the rest of the bottle. "… if you ladies wouldn't mind, just signing. You don't have to stick around. I'm running out of time."
Gilly slammed the bottle down on the table, waving for another. "What's in it for us, handsome?" she asked coyly, attempting to flag down the innkeeper who was clearly trying to ignore them.
"Do you require a particular knowledge of explosives?" Trixx looked hopeful.
"I vant to know you are not cannibal." Amán stood rigid, arms crossed and hooves matching her height to his.
His left eye twitched.
"Look. How about this. I'll pay…10 gold a signature. You don't have to commit, really, I just need to present this to —"
"We're in!" Gilly slapped her hand on the parchment, conjuring up a quill. Amán gave her a severe, disapproving look. "What? You know how much wine 10 gold buys out here? A lady's gotta eat." The elf scrunched his face.
"That doesn't—"
"WOO HOO, WE'RE GONNA BE IN A GUILD!" Trixx excitedly grabbed the quill from Gilly, who barely finished signing. With reluctance, Amán followed suit, making sure her autograph was an image of impeccable daintiness. Rheaven cleared his throat, blowing on the wet ink and eyeing the girls suspiciously.
"Out of curiosity, what was the last campaign you all participated in?"
"Mmmmmmmm. Oh! I helped one of your guys out a little while ago!" Gilly perked. The elf titled his head, interested and hopeful.
"Oh?"
"Yes. Out in the Barrens, I think."
"I vemember zis!" Amán clapped her hands together. "Waz 'orrible cave. Very vindy. Many snakes. Smelled bad." Rheaven's eyes widened in stunned realization.
"W… was it the Wailing Caverns? That was your last mission?" Gilly grinned.
"Yes, that's the one! Before that asshole dragon ruined everything." She raised an empty glass to the sky. "Onyxia had great fashion sense, though. Rest in power, you savage minx."
The night elf looked horrified. Out of the corner of his eye, the innkeeper gave him a very grave, sympathetic look.
