It rained heavily outside. Tyrande Whisperwind was sitting alone at a table in the inn, quietly muttering to herself and reading a newsscroll (the headline of the day was "Still no clue in the Astranaar child abduction case" as she drank her murky brew. The Jolly Treant, the inn was called, a quite new establishment owned by a good-spirited (in all meanings of the word) dwarf known as Jolly Uncle Woodenmug. Too good-spirited, Tyrande though. She had drunk quite an amount of the dark liquid, and for each drink, she became more and more depressed. Not many others were in the inn at the time, and most of them dwarves from an Explorers' Guild expedition passing through the night elf capital. No-one of seemed to pay much attention to the kaldorei leader at the corner table but for one person, a