The Shrine of Two Moons was a massive multi-floored building on the northeastern edge of the Vale of Eternal Blossoms. Given to the Horde as a base of operations by the August Celestials, in coordination with the Shado Pan monks and the Order of the Golden Lotus, it stood a fair distance away from its Alliance counterpart, the Shrine of Seven Stars.
On the terrace where the flightmaster and stable masters were located, Bladewisp the pandaren hunter sat on the steps and basked in the sun. Life was good.
He had joined the Horde shortly after the mists had parted to reveal the fabled land of Pandaria. His own race claimed this place as home but this was the only time he had set foot here as his pandaren wanderer brethren had been away from their homeland for a very long time. After journeying all over the continent and having many adventures, it felt good to take a break. And it was good to be home.
A female orc warrior strode over and promptly blocked the sun. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Hello, Mal, how goes the adventuring?” He inquired politely.
Mal sneered. “You pandaren are always lying around being lazy. Try getting up and moving around! Maybe you’ll get thinner.”
Bladewisp laughed heartily. “Strength comes from the gut! Big gut means big power. Isn’t that right, Gibbonz?”
Another pandaren, this one a shaman by his armor, had just strode out onto the terrace. “Don’t even think about involving me in your petty little argument. Just because we’re both pandaren doesn’t mean I have to agree with you. But yes, he’s right this time, Mal.” Gibbonz rubbed his own ample belly for emphasis.
A blood elf paladin on a kite landed gently at the flightmaster’s pad. “Ho! Jizal!” Bladewisp greeted the newcomer.
Jizal grinned even as he dusted himself off. “Is this where all the bored and lazy adventurers hang out while the Alliance gains more and more ground?”
Mal nodded her agreement and bumped gauntleted fists with Jizal.
The two pandaren sighed. This Horde had much to learn about Pandaria and its people.
“Worry not, pandaren comrades,” a soft feminine voice spoke in soothing tones. “They mean well, though they have a poor way of showing it.”
Gibbonz turned. “I hadn’t noticed you sitting there, Avierra. One would think you were stealthed even though everyone knows paladins don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“Touche, Gibbonz,” Avierra laughed as she waved his comment away. “And, for the record, Jizal is the only paladin in the world that doesn’t know the meaning of that word.”
“Did someone call a meeting without informing me?” A reedy voice asked just as a shadowy alcove parted to reveal a goblin warlock. “Cyanmyer reporting for duty.”
Mal cocked an eyebrow. “How did you know we were even here? Last I heard you were in the Dread Wastes.”
“I have my ways,” the warlock said mysteriously.
Bladewisp’s eyes narrowed. “He left his imp on the terrace. It’s in the tree branches above us right now.”
The warlock sneered. “Damn you and your hunter eyes.”
“I didn’t use my eyes,” Bladewisp clarified. “Your imp reeks of sulfur and fel fire.”
“Be that as it may,” the warlock continued. “It appears the Mogu’shan Vaults have been opened by the Shado Pan monks. Lorewalker Cho has already issued a call for adventurers bold enough to brave the dangers within.”
Mal rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Sounds like a job to me...”