The Thunderbrew Distillery was renowned for its ale. Apart from being the closest inn to the ruins of Gnomeregan, it was the only reason anyone came to Kharanos anymore. Travelers who picked up a mug of the famous Thunderbrew lager were almost forced to stay the night just from the potency of the drink. Since they had already purchased a set of rooms, Thomasd was taking full advantage of this alcoholic delicacy.

"I love you guys," he hiccupped, "a whole lot." With a drunken, ridiculous smile, he threw an arm heavily around Vvain. The paladin slowly eased away from him, having had enough love for the day.

"Take it easy, Tom. You'll end up like Satiire, and no one wants to see that," Dionysa motioned up to the night elf with her mug. She was dancing around on their table, making a complete fool of herself and enjoying every minute of it.

Satiire was not the only one having a good time. The entire tavern was lively, dancing on tables and staggering around in a drunken stupor. A small group of musicians placed themselves in the corner, merrily playing upbeat dwarven melodies that one typically heard in a tavern at prime time. Belm, the innkeeper, stood behind the bar, laughing and chatting with patrons while pouring rounds of drinks. The fireplace was the only source of illumination besides a few small lanterns that hung from the walls. Flames roared and flickered an orange glow around the room.

Aerandir pranced back to the table with an armful of mugs. He passed them out accordingly before reaching up to tug Satiire's shirt back to its proper place before too much was revealed. "Satiire, I think you're getting too excited with your dance," he sighed. The elf giggled and waved her arms in the air.

A few tables away, a dwarf staggered into a chair and split a mug of thunder ale on another engaged in a stalemate arm wrestling match, diverting his attention to let the opposing dwarf win. The losing dwarf erupted into a fit of rage and lobbed a fist into the drunken dwarf's cheek. The drunken dwarf retaliated with a blast of fire and the battle began.

Vvain watched in slight discontent. "A bunch of hammered dwarves in one room doesn't seem very safe." The race had always been known for their stubbornness and short tempers.

"You'd be surprised," the mage said, "Bar fights are pretty rare in here and when they happen, everything's resolved quick." She was more familiar with this area than her companions. Being a gnome, she had spent a lot of time around dwarves, since they lived in the same region. In Gnomeregan, there were no breweries, as they knew they could never compete with the dwarven taverns.

She was right. Vvain glanced over to the brawling table. The arm wrestling match had begun again as if nothing had ever happened. He raised an eyebrow, then, deciding it was unimportant, shrugged it off.

"So what's on the menu for tomorrow?" Dionysa said, changing subjects.

The warlock perked up. "Food?"

"I think she's asking what our next adventure will be," Aerandir chuckled. He pulled Satiire's shirt down once again.

"I heard about this airport that's supposedly unreachable," the mage said, "in the mountains up by Ironforge, between the city, Loch Modan and the Wetlands."

"And if it's unreachable, then obviously we're going to try to get there, huh?" Vvain took a swig from his mug.

"Yep," Dionysa smiled, then grabbed her staff from the back of her chair. She hooked Satiire's top and yanked it down with the crescent moon adorning the tip of her weapon, "And quit trying to strip."

Aerandir pondered, "If the airport is unreachable, then how do we know it exists?"

"No, it exists," the paladin said, "I've seen it. The gryphons fly over it when you ride to the Wetlands. Some dwarves stay there, so it isn't completely inaccessible but there's no real path to it. Actually, I've always wondered what it was for."

"See? Told you," the gnome stuck her tongue out.

Satiire hopped off of the table and plopped into Vvain's lap. Startled, he tried to withdraw but she curled up and fell asleep. He looked to the draenei for helped, but Aerandir just laughed and shrugged his shoulders. With a scoff, Vvain folded his arms and let her be. "How do we get there, then?"

"Most likely from Loch Modan," the shaman suggested. Vvain and Dionysa looked at him questioningly. "Well, the hills from the Wetlands are incredibly steep, and Ironforge takes up most of the mountain space in Dun Morogh. The rest of it is covered in ice and snow, which would be too dangerous. The part of Loch Modan that we are interested in is milder and the rocks should be neither snowy nor slippery. It would make sense to start there." The group nodded. This was true. They were glad to have Aerandir's brains along for the trip, as he had more common sense than the lot of them combined.

Thomasd had long since passed out with his face in a puddle of ale on the table. The paladin grabbed the warlock's shoulder and pushed him against the back of his chair, then took the opportunity to hand off the sleeping night elf. He grinned, feeling accomplished as the two of them slouched against each other.

Seeing the pair and feeling a little tired himself, Aerandir suggested that they turn in for the night. Not surprisingly, Vvain admitted to being sleepy. Dionysa agreed and went to pay the tab as the men played a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would be rooming with Thomasd. Vvain won, thankfully. He was already traumatized enough and was afraid how sleeping in the same room with a warlock who had a tendency to get overly friendly when he was smashed would turn out.

Aerandir carefully moved Satiire into another chair and slung his unconscious friend over his shoulder. "I'll see you two in the morning. Sleep well," he smiled and headed through the kitchen, beyond which were the stairs descending to the inn rooms below ground.

Dionysa and Vvain looked at each other, then the mage hinted towards Satiire and gave him a big, suggestive grin. The paladin laughed, finished off his ale and stood up. He scooped the elf from her chair and started off to the stairs. Dionysa followed, yawning.

"Dwarves do make pretty neat buildings," Vvain observed, leading them into a room. The stone walls were surprisingly welcoming. Various hunting trophies decorated the mantle of a small fireplace in the corner, and two beds were snugly placed against the opposite wall. Dionysa claimed one and Satiire was laid in the other. Vvain pulled a blanket over her loosely but she kicked it off. He sighed and replaced it. This time she made no retaliation.

"Okay, thanks, now go away. I'm tired," the mage muttered, beginning to remove her armor.

"Good night to you, too." He left, closing the door behind him. Dionysa kicked off her boots and crawled into bed. The room was dark, aside from the small fire in the corner. She could hear Satiire snoring into a pillow next to her.

Tomorrow would be a good day.