In Flame Crest, the eight-member party gathered at Sally Gearwheel's inn.
"This expedition to Uldaman was an experience unlike any I've ever had. To our tremendous haul, I raise a toast to our Arcanist." Prospector Redul flashed a mouthful of gleaming white teeth and raised his cup to Patrick.
The Explorers' Guild's exploration of Uldaman had gone perfectly. The Bronzebeard Dwarves had easily ventured deep into Uldaman (while tagging along), and had even killed a senator from Shadowforge City (by cheering from the sidelines). Returning laden with spoils had lifted the dwarves' spirits.
Patrick, however, was not in the habit of drinking. Mages, especially high-ranking ones, needed to keep a clear head at all times. Patrick filled a cup with juice and took a token drink with the dwarf.
"Ah!! Fine liquor..." came the dwarf's rough voice, accompanied by a belch. Seeing that Patrick was not drinking alcohol, he could not help feeling a little regret.
"We were lucky Master Pat joined us this time. That's how we managed to get those treasures. To our success, let's have another!" Prospector Thelsamar chimed in. Returning with such a haul had put the dwarves in a cheerful mood, and they drank to their hearts' content.
"We were also fortunate to have your maps. They let us find the Seat of Khaz'goroth so directly. Thank you all for your help as well." Patrick's words were heartfelt. The five dwarves' maps had indeed saved the expedition a great deal of time.
Patrick's simple words left the five dwarves feeling a little giddy. Praise from an elf was not something one heard often, especially praise directed at other races.
The high elves of Quel'Thalas were paragons of tall, rich, handsome men or fair, rich, beautiful women. Beautiful and long-lived, wealthy and kind, they had lived