Mor and Skik

With relief and sentiment, Yogi walked through bustling Orgrimmar. It took him half a day to find a thriving barbecue restaurant. After paying for some food and Wild Boar Liquor, he prepared to have a hearty meal.

"The price of food has finally come down." After paying, Yogi went to wait at his table and let out a quiet breath. He had brought plenty of money and had worried it would not be enough, but that no longer seemed to be a concern. He could even bring his wife a gift when he returned.

Over the past year or so, because of the campaign against the Scourge, the Alliance and Horde had requisitioned large quantities of supplies from the market, making many goods extremely scarce. Fortunately, after more than ten months, everything had adjusted.

"Mon, can we sit here?" While Yogi was waiting for his food, a voice called out. He turned his head and saw someone with tusks curving upward beyond his lips. Judging by his blue skin with a greenish cast, he seemed to be an Amani'lai. Behind him stood a somewhat chubby, sturdy fellow.

"Sure!" Yogi looked at the Troll before him. After a moment, somewhat unaccustomed to it, he stood and invited the man to sit. He felt that the other man was probably a warrior, while the chubby fellow behind him was likely a scholar.

"My name is Mor, and this is Skik. Where are you from?" The Troll with the upward-curving tusks smiled as he introduced himself and his companion, then asked Yogi.

"Yogi. I'm from Nightsong City. Have you been there?" Yogi smiled.

"No, I haven't. I'm from Jintha'Alor, and I've never been to Nightsong City either!" Skik, who looked somewhat plump, answered with a smile.

"Jintha'Alor? Oh, I passed through there once.