Tristan walks by the poster, and quickly eyes it. He shrugs slightly and draws his pen from his belt.
If we can work with a tauren, surely we can work with a Troll.
Tristan signs his name below and joins for a walk with few good looking forsaken ladies, ofcourse offering drinks back at sillymoon.
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There's a big hole in the middle of the paper, and there's some bad language written next to it. Skilled apothecaries might be able to read:
" B r A t T"