Deep in the Undercity's War Quarter, figures shamble, lurk, skitter, apparate, or otherwise enter a large room. a sign outside proclaims it as the meeting place of the Veterans of the Southern Lordaeron Army. A Forsaken wearing the tabard of the now defunct Southern Lordaeron Army stands at a desk, welcoming those who enter. He is Sergeant Spittle.

"Alright, alright, you maggots, fall in! Not you, Private Thing! Keep your bones all in one place, by the Black Mammaries of Sylvanus! And, you, Corporal Rotgrub, get to sweeping that spillage by the bar! You still haven't worked off your demerits from basic! Use the bio-contaminant bucket donated by the Royal Apothecary Society. You all know Engineer Abominus' "little friends" tend to make "messes." He eyeballs the clipboard clutched in his paws. "It just goes to show that an NCO's job never ends, even after death..."

More former soldiers, cavalry troopers, officers, chirurgeons, barbers, hostlers, camp followers, cooks, and other assorted hangers-on with the former army queue up for admittance.

The regimental band strikes up a rousing rendition of Major Hack's "Where is My Left Kneecap?".

************** Thanks to all our veterans, and current serving members. We salute you for your service, and your sacrifice for all of us! **************