The Blue Recluse, packed full of mid-evening bodies, pipe smoke billowing in unconcerned and unrelenting threads. A leather-clad gent sits at a dusky table with arms folded churlishly over the military stripes lining his chest, while a broad-shouldered Gilnean scowls beside him.
"...out of nowhere. Thought they'd gone the way of the Foreststrider. Wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been there myself. Almost didn't til one of 'em took my ear." The Worgen tilts his head, displaying a ragged head wound in the flickering light. The human frowns, sniffing.
"Coterie huh. Hope you're mistaken, friend. Last thing we need..."
Life stirs in the depths of Uldum, where life ought not. Slithering unseens writhe and wriggle away from shafts of dank lantern light as twin Forsaken crawl along forgotten twists and turns, scribbling their findings on parchment.
"...Coterie's back, you know." The first, a quite dead fellow with belts over his face, marks a depth change on his map, eyelessly peering to his companion.
"The Wayfarer's? Ran with them two... three years ago. Good folk. We should look 'em up, soon as we're out of THIS filthy dirtpit."
Beltface scoffs, patting down the sandy surface of a wall that had seen no hand in ages. "Right. Just what I want. To start at the bottom of some old military club. I'm not one to take orders, no thanks."
"Oh no. They aren't military. Just an order of companions. There's no bottom to start from. Everyone is equal. Organizers, sure, but nobody's breathin' down your neck..."
A pair of Sin'dorei mates twirl and twist around one another on a polished wooden dance floor, the world around them a blur while up-tempo music drones from a corner. Other couples waltz beside them, each group drifting across the floor like lilies in a slow-moving whirlpool. Merriment and laughter peak out, the Silvermoon Ball a stunning success.
"...hunt down old Leo myself. He's -got- to have a place for me. Someplace where I can have companions, but retain my independence. Father and brother would never forgive me if I dropped the family name."
"Hush beloved. They have forgiven you for worse things. Just... are you certain? You've had your training, yes, but you've only just begun making a name for yourself. Would the Coterie accept one as un-tempered as even you?"
A dip, a whirl, and a brief kiss before the tune alters, along with the steps.
"Said on the flier that the Coterie accepts veterans and fledgling adventurers alike. Can't hurt to ask round. We need friends, especially during days such as these."