Appearances"I could break you, Elf."
He'd lost track of time.
In fact, the last thing he could coherently recall was the Elf answering that he'd 'see about that'.
Every movement, right down to the act of breathing, hurt.
From what he could see, however, there were no physical wounds or marks, just an overall feeling of crushing fatigue mingled with a pain that turned from dull to stabbing with any subtle movement.
He had his armor, his weapons were well within reach, and he had absolutely no memory of how he'd ended up alone, in an unfamiliar building, and with an Elf.
At least the overstuffed chair was comfortable, if a bit small.
He shook his head, hoping that a good jolt of whatever the hell was causing that stabbing feeling would clear his mind or, if not that, at least momentarily take his focus away from the Elf that had been talking at him.
This situation was inconceivable to him; the creature circling him, he was certain, couldn't have even been six feet tall and, even worse, looke
The Morning AfterThat's odd; where are the portals?
Calleo stood, somewhat dumbfounded, staring at the now empty spots that used to contain portals to all major capital cities. He turned, shooting an unfounded, accusing glare at A'dal (who more than likely didn't notice the look, let alone the Elf), grumbling under his breath.
The consistent background 'chime' of the Naaru in the area didn't do much to help the warlock's mood; most found the sound soothing, he supposed, but the noise, to him, was nothing short of grating. Certainly, it had nothing to do with a mild hangover as a reminder that he'd spent far too much time in the Lower City the previous night. He tried vainly to tune out the noise by digging through his bags and muttering to himself.
Then his pockets.
Damn. Out of teleportation runes.
Briefly, very briefly, he considered making the trek to a shop in Shattrath to pick up a few more, but the thought of having to deal with the gutter trash that infested mos
A Quiet AfternoonCalleo leaned back against the wall, shooting the table a mildly annoyed glance; Orgrimmar was still where he spent the bulk of his time, but that sure as hell didn't mean the city was designed for anything shorter than an Orc. Sitting--on the floor, of course. Skins, evidently, pass for furnishings even now."-- he cleared the edge of the tables in the Wyvern's Tail just enough to see anyone across from him.
If there weren't pots, hookahs, candles, a brazier, or any steins in the way, of course. There were two tables that sat mostly underneath the stairs to the upper level, and it was always one of those he tried to grab. Easier to watch people that way, and less chance that anyone could actually sneak up unless they could teleport through solid wood. He smiled over at the floppy-hatted Orc to his right, "See anything interesting yet, Ag?"
"There are a number of people here that I'd like to punch. I gather that doing so would allay some of my boredom."
"Mm, I suppose