Lion's Pride Inn

Clara readjusted her clothing as she made her way back to the village feeling momentarily sated by her escapade with the guardsman. She'd left him alive, but he would be all but insensate for a few days as his body recovered. He had given her the information she required however, informing her of an upcoming meeting that evening in the cellar of the local inn.

The guards had been investigating the coven for some weeks now after a supposed debacle with cultists in the nearby village of Darkshire some months previous had led to numerous murders that extended all the way to Stormwind, leaving many of the more superstitious townsfolk on edge. It was several hours until sundown however, and Clara had no desire to mill around in the open until then.

Entering the Lion's Pride inn, she was met by a waft of ale and the aroma of food emanating from the kitchens, the common room of the inn barely half full with travellers and locals alike, sharing stories and discussing the mundane goings on over flagons of ale. She took a seat by the back wall and scanned the crowd, looking for the innkeeper.

It didn't take long to find him, a short, nervous looking man with receding brown hair who seemed to be constantly on edge over some manner or another judging by the way he'd jump whenever someone approached him. According to her information, the cultists were to give a signal to the innkeeper and he would allow them into the back and down into the cellar. All she needed to do was sit and watch for the signal.