Ashraen Ven'Dalah

The Lull

It was humid.

The large Paladin grimaced as he leaned against the wall that served to brace the bar against the elements. A cigarette hung from his lips and he casually widened the stance of his feet as a breeze blew through, jostling the beads in his hair. He honestly hated this weather, but this bar was his only refuge now.

The war was won, sort of. Aside from that giant sword doing weird shit to the Desert of Bugs and Cults, there was... nothing. Nothing to be done. Though Sylvanas seemed to be preparing for something, few of the "lowly" were privileged to the plan.

This was the lull. The quiet before the storm.

A loud bark of laughter set the gulls to squawking and golden depths shifted to the source. This was really all they had now. Shouldn't he be pleased? Peace ment squabbles between inner factions, squabbles ment revenge, and with revenge ment...

A punch was thrown, causing a ruckus, and Ashraen slowly grinned around his cigarette.

Revenge ment someone would pay, for one thing, or another.