The boat swayed in the coastal surf as we neared the isle of Azuremyst. Crates of foodstuffs and building materials strained at their tightly lashed ropes as the ship rocked back and forth. I cast a weary glance towards the Night Elf deckhands as I tucked my arms under my cloak, trying to keep my stomach. Ships weren’t my favorite way to travel as they usually involved various levels of cleanup after a few hours on the surf. Tough break though, as currently the only access to the island was a single Night Elf shipping lane through the Auberdine docks. I’d passed through those very docks just several weeks prior, so when a call for aid from the elves came, the Order of the Silver Hand sent me to investigate. Apparently it wasn’t the elves in trouble this time but some newcomers who arrived during the re-opening of the Dark Portal.

I looked out over the railing of the elven vessel towards the island. I wanted nothing more than to be standing shoulder to shoulder with the other paladins at the front. Adventuring heroes smashing demons in the name of the Light, freeing the lost soldiers of Honor Hold, defending all of Azeroth from Illidan’s revenge, ah, the glory of battle! I resented this assignment, I knew it was the Order giving me the back of their hand, but I needed the money. Still, these Draenei creatures must be pretty tough to hold the Orcish hordes off on their own homeworld for so long. As the boat pulled into the dock I grew anxious. I was going to be the first human these people ever met; I had to make a good, no, a radical impression.

Two Draenei helped secure the ship as the elves began to unload. They were strong, hearty men, as tall as Night Elves and twice as bulky. Their eyes glowed pure white and their heads were crested just below a pair of fiendish horns. Like purified Eredar they even had hooves and tails but they exuded an air of tranquility. Stepping off the ship I sized up the situation. There were empty crates strewn by the docks that were hastily loaded back on the ship to be refilled in Auberdine as our cargo was unloaded by the Night Elf crew. I started down the road when I was stopped by a Draenei dock worker, “Excuse me, stranger!”

“Yes?” I asked. These creatures had a peculiar accent.

The worker came up to me with an enormous crate of alchemy supplies on his shoulder, “Are you a warrior of this Alliance we’ve heard of?”

“I’m a paladin of the Order of the Silver Hand, technically I’m not part of the--”

The Draenei laughed heartily but after a few seconds looked down to see I wasn’t joking, “Oh, you really are a paladin?”

“Of course,” I responded. This was weird.

“Forgive me, Draenei paladins are... well, never mind. Please though, if you are headed to the refugees, could I ask a favor of you?”

“Shoot,” I said.

“It will be hours before we can get an elekk team up here to move these crates,” he said, motioning towards the pile of cargo now lining the docks. “The medical supplies have to get there as soon as possible, if you could just deliver one crate, it would help so much.”

Great, a gopher quest. Well, I thought, I’d be passing through anyway. And a little physical labor never hurt anyone. Except all those people who blow their backs out working at the Stormwind docks. And all those farmers who die twenty years younger than your average city dweller. “Yeah, lay it on me,” I said.

He handed me the crate and it nearly doubled me over. “Thank you, the camp is right outside the Exodar.”

“What’s an Exodar!?” I shouted, still trying to get a grip on the massive box of fragile bottles.

“That big ship over there,” he said, pointing to a small crystalline mountain in the distance. He slapped me on the back and I staggered down the road towards my destination.

Just as I was about to collapse from exertion I came within sight of the opening to the massive wrecked ship. Dozens of tents and stacks of supplies were lined outside with displaced Draeneis wandering in and out. What few care workers there were bustled to and fro trying to get people situated. As I sat the crate down by the medical tent a Night Elf cracked it open. “Elune be praised, more potions,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” I replied. Goddamn ungrateful elves.

The elf looked up at me with surprise, “Oh, forgive me, we are overwhelmed with everything going on.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“Please, if you are heading inside, could you bring a box of food down?” He pointed towards a small cache of food stuffs, “They’re running low at the inn but we couldn’t spare any until the Auberdine shipment came.”

“Why not,” I said with resignation, “seems to be a lot of that going on today.”

I walked over and grabbed the closest box. Inside was nothing but cantaloupe. Food is food, I thought to myself, though in retrospect I should have probably grabbed a lighter box. Struggling with the fruit down winding and broken passages I made my way inside the Exodar. All the Draenei I passed stared at me as I wobbled forward, it was a little unnerving. It reminded me of living in Darnassus, with all those creepy elves just watching you, the outsider in their home. Nevertheless I was blown away by the Exodar itself. The ship was enormous and I wondered how on earth it ended up crashed into Azeroth. Nothing could prepare me for the main floor though.

Walking through the archway I was greeted by a ceiling that reached to the heavens, every wall adorned with beautiful glowing gems. A sense of magic innervated the air as lights danced throughout the separate halls. It made the Cathedral of Stormwind look like an abbey church. Too busy gawking, I bumped into someone at the bottom of the main entry ramp. The fellow was enormous, even for a Draenei, and clad entirely in fine magic armor. I fell backwards, the box of fruit landing on top of my chest and pinning me to the floor.

The stern Draenei waited until I got to my feet to address me, watching me struggle the entire time. “I take it you are one of the Alliance?” he said at last.

“Ah, well, not technically,” I replied, shifting the box of cantaloupe in my grip, “I was sent by the Order of the Silver Hand.”

The Draenei looked at me with incredulity, “You are Sir Abrams?”

“You can call me Jack,” I said, “Jack Radical.”

“I’ll stick to Sir Abrams, thank you. My name is Sir Pallen,” he said, “where is your armor, paladin?”

“I’m, uh, wearing it,” I said. What, do ordinary Draeneis just strut around in chainmail? It should be obvious. I took another look at his armor, maybe not. This guy was decked to the nines in some of the finest enchanted armor I’d ever seen, covered with magical gems, and detailed with patterns that rivaled any Dwarven make. Were all Draenei paladins this well equipped? I’m not usually one for inferiority complexes, but I was starting to feel outclassed.

Sir Pallen shook his head and beckoned me to follow him. We walked to an auction house in the center of the ship-turned-city that doubled as a supply depot for the survivors, except there were a whole lot of survivors and not nearly enough supplies. I eagerly set my crate down amongst the others, adjusted my chain armor, and walked up to shake his hand for a proper greeting now that I was no longer laden with melons.

He took mine hesitantly, “Before we can discuss joining the Alliance, I first must attend to the needs of the crash survivors.”

“Of course,” I replied, “I’ll do whatever I can.” Nothing smoothes over negotiations like some good ol’ sucking up.

“Fantastic,” he said. Turning to one of the workers, he pulled her aside to speak with me. I’d seen some female Draeneis on my way to the Exodar, but this chick, lemme tell you, I was starstruck. She had hips like a goddess with long, toned legs. An ass that would make an elf jealous, and my god that rack! I wouldn’t mind carrying those cantaloupes if you know what I mean. She stood about seven feet tall so my line of sight was, aha, yeah, right in line. Her face was smooth and her eyes so soft, not stern like most of the Draeneis were. Both of her little horns curled around like a ram, it was actually rather cute. All of her clothing was filthy and torn though and her skin was stained with dirt. She must have been working hard all day.

“Oh, Sir Pallen! This is an honor!” she said, bowing before the paladin, “What do you require of me?”

“I’ve come to enlist another helper, miss…” he said plainly.

“Syndra, sir,” she said, “And who is this?”

“Cantaloupes,” I replied.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, Sir Abrams, but please, call me Jack,” I said, pulling it together. I couldn’t be daydreaming now, there was work to do. I had potential allies to impress. Really, really sexy allies.

Syndra looked at Sir Pallen skeptically, “Excuse me but,” the female said, not quite sure how to phrase her question, “are humans normally, well, where is your armor?”

“I’m wearing it,” I said shortly, picking at my chainmail shirt. I undid my shield and hammer for them to examine. After my gear was trashed from our adventure in the Blackfathom Deeps, my new pal Grelmen pulled some strings for me with a smithy buddy of his in Ironforge who whipped up a brand new shield for me. I was glad for a chance to show it off, the craftsmanship was impeccable, but even a piece of Dwarven handiwork seemed almost droll next to such elaborate jewel-encrusted armor as Sir Pallen’s.

“I see,” she said, a tad disappointed. So much for a good first impression, I looked more like a wandering mercenary than a fine paladin of the Light compared to these creatures. Well, I guess I was more of a mercenary than a paladin. I shouldered my gear again. The Order shouldn’t have chosen me for this. It was embarrassing for them and humiliating for me.

Sir Pallen turned to Syndra, “I have to get back to the other paladins; we are discussing the repairs with the Exarch. Sir Abrams has offered to help in whatever capacity is needed.”

Syndra nodded as the paladin dismissed himself. “Good, we’re tragically low on help,” she said, digging into the crates.

I was quick to suggest something in my area of expertise, “What is it you need, someone to protect camp? Search for survivors? Patrol the roads?”

“No, I need someone to hand out these blankets in the camp, they ran out already,” she said, handing me woolen blankets in an open Darnassian crate. “I’ll handle the food you brought down here, just give the blankets to everyone coming in.”

This was not the work of a mighty paladin of the Light, but I couldn’t back out now. Irritated, I grabbed the box and started back up the ramp. Taking a post at the front of the camp I began my drudgery. As refugees entered I tried to make sure everyone had a blanket. It was obvious there wasn’t enough to go around, so I started prioritizing anyone who came in with children or looked injured. I felt like such a sucker just standing there, unable to really help anyone. Here’s your blanket, ma’am. Here’s your blanket, sir. Here’s my dignity, have some warm elf cider while we find you a cot. What an ignoble job. Don’t get me wrong, people need blankets, but I was an adventurer, not some do-nothing peasant. There were dangers in those forests, who knows how many Draeneis were being mauled by nightsabers as I stood there doing this crap! When the Order of the Silver Hand sends you one of their own you don't send them on commoner’s work.

I looked into the eyes of the ones who passed by. As the dusk turned to night, they became more pained, more exhausted. These people really were just hanging on. I felt helpless to aid them in this utility and the feeling of righteous indignation began to swell inside. There had to be something else I could do. Still, it was a little heartwarming seeing them nod in appreciation as I gave them the soft woolen blankets. When my crate was empty I handed out the last few on my way back to the Exodar. Maybe they'd come to their senses and were willing to give me a more useful occupation. Inside I found Syndra already talking with another Draenei in a medical uniform, but she turned to address me.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said, “I’m out of blankets. Is there something else I can do?”

Syndra’s face lit up, “There is, actually. Josephine, a doctor in the medical tent, has been looking for help all evening.”

The other Draenei nodded, “I would go myself, but I can’t leave my patients here in the Exodar.”

Medical tent, eh? I was no healer so my magic would be spent on just a few injuries. “I'm not sure what use I could be to the doctor,” I said.

“I don't know,” Syndra replied, “but Josephine’s impatient. If she doesn't get someone soon we might all need medical attention.”

“Alright, fine.” Maybe the doctor would have something useful for me to do.

“Thank you, Sir Abrams, it’s just outside the entrance,” Syndra said.

“It’s Jack,” I replied, turning to leave.

The medical tent was inundated with patients. It looked more like a warzone than a medical station. Maybe I was at the front after all. I’d seen worse in my time, sure, but seeing so many injured civilians, it didn’t sit right. These folks never had it coming, they didn’t deserve this. Still, for the most part everyone who was wounded was receiving care. The front of the tent, while also housing some of the injured, was mostly congested with anxious people looking for loved ones. Josefine it turned out was head of triage. She was a formidable looking Draenei, bulkier than the other females I’d seen.

“Josefine!?” I shouted over the noise of the crowd, “I was told you needed assistance.”

“Absolutely,” she yelled back, looking up, “Oh, you’re the one who arrived with the crate of potions!”

“Oh, yeah, Syndra told me to talk to you,” I replied.

“Light bless her, I’ve been trying to get a hold of someone all day but everyone’s either been too busy or thinks they’re too important.” She pulled out a hastily written piece of paper and shoved it in my hands, “Take this to Sir Pallen if you can pry him away from the Exarch and his paladins, I need it notarized before we can release any medical supplies.”

I took the paper without a word. Great. This was not the work I should be doing; you don’t win friends with fetch quests. As I headed through the Exodar I asked one of the guards where to find Sir Pallen. It was then I realized just how well equipped these soldiers were. Even the common patrol had full plate armor that shined with a magical purple sheen. The guard pointed me towards an overcrowded inn. Sir Pallen seemed to be inspecting something in the quarters of the survivors alongside a pair of Draeneis with clip boards. I hurried over and handed him the paper.

“Ah, the delivery to Azure Watch,” Sir Pallen said, looking it over, “I thought that was supposed to leave already. Would you be willing to make the trip, Sir Abrams?”

I really wasn't. I was tired of these stupid quests any commoner could do. I just wanted to smash some demon skulls with my hammer and bathe in the glory of victory. But yeah, sure, let the paladin carry more boxes around. This is a fine appropriation of talent. I nodded towards the paladin, afraid to open my mouth lest my foot find its way inside.

“Good,” Sir Pallen scribbled a signature on the letter, rolled it up, and handed it back to me. “Everything should already be prepared, just take this to the elekk handler outside the camp.”

I took the note and headed back towards the exit. Why was I even here? What was the point of sending me to do this stuff anyway? My train of thought was interrupted when Syndra stopped me on my way out, “Did you talk to Josephine?”

“Yeah, I have to bring supplies to Azure Watch,” I replied.

“By the Light, those weren’t delivered yet!?”

I shook my head, “I guess not, I don't suppose it could wait until morning.”

“No, this is urgent, but please be careful, Sir Abrams. The road doesn’t have a patrol. We simply can’t spare anyone yet.”

“I’ve got it covered,” I said, “And it’s Jack.”

Well, I thought, without any patrols it could get a little interesting. I exited the city gate and headed to the edge of the camp. As I approached the stable I saw a cart loaded full of supplies being fitted to one of the smaller elekks by a stout Draenei. He saw me coming and beamed, “Hey, you’re with the Alliance, right? Heading to Azure watch?”

I handed him the writ, “Apparently, how did you know?”

The handler looked it over and breathed a sigh of relief, “I’ve had this ready to go since noon but we needed authorization to let go of the medicine. They said they would send someone over and, well, you’re the first person I’ve seen all day.” With this he handed me the lead to the massive creature, its trunk desperately trying to reach the fruit tucked in the cart behind it. The Draenei smacked it away, “Hey! None of that now!” He turned back to me, “Don’t be afraid of ‘em, they’re gentle enough but they can be a bit stubborn. Hope you have a strong lead arm.”

He slapped the elekk on the hind quarters and started it off east. It was dark out and even though the cart had lanterns I found myself using my magic hammer to see ahead of me, every so often tugging on the animal to keep it going straight. Although the occasional strider or nightstalker ran by, none of them actually tried to attack. It seemed this was the only use my hammer and magic was going to have on this adventure. I’m a holy warrior for god’s sake. I hit things, it’s what I’m good at. Not handing out blankets, not carrying food, not leading around wander-happy beasts of burden. Sure, this was important, but was I really the one who should be doing it?

Azure Watch wasn’t far away, just a few miles down the road, but I still had plenty of time to stew in those thoughts. Eventually though I straightened up as I was approached by a pair of guards outside the settlement. These men weren’t wearing the gleaming armor the guards of the Exodar had. Theirs were mostly leather that looked to come from the stags in the area. The guards helped me wrangle the elekk into the center of the little... it wasn’t even a village really. More like a collection of broken escape pods and ramshackle buildings being used to keep the rain and wind out. I could tell this place hadn’t seen half the supplies the elves brought to the Exodar. Needy Draenei started to gather around the cart as one of the guards jumped on top of it and began handing out the crates one by one. The other guard pulled the elekk over to a water trough for the night.

I broke open one of the crates and began distributing the fruit inside, trying to make sure everyone got at least something. Some of these Draenei looked like they hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days, and anyway it wasn't like I could just stand there. The medical supplies were hurried off to one of the few tents in the watch, where a few Draenei lay outside holding their poorly mended wounds.

As I was making the rounds with my crate of food I felt something tugging at my chainmail. Looking down I found a little Draenei girl, hands out, reaching for a fruit. Now I knew I’d given her one already so I tried to shoo her away, but she kept tailing me. It was hard to say no to a kid, especially when they’re hungry, but I couldn't play favorites. Looking down at her, I said, “Come on, go back to your parents, kid.”

Her face screwed up into a confused look, “I dunno where they are.”

Oh geez. This was gonna be one of those deals, “What's your name?

“Samara,” she said meekly. She didn’t look much older than eight. That is, if Draenei children and human children are the same size. The adults sure aren’t.

“Okay, Samara, I'm Jack. Do you know if your parents are in the watch somewhere?”

Looked around uneasily, fiddling with the frayed end of her shirt, “I dunno.”

I couldn’t just let her go running around unattended and what few guards the place had were still busy with the supplies, so I let her tag along. If her parents were nearby I'd see them while unloading the cart. The kid followed me about as I handed the fruit to one survivor after another but she kept grabbing for more. Taking her aside again, I said, “Look, I know you’re hungry, but so is everyone else.”

“I wanna help though,” she said. I looked at her strangely, then handed her a few fruits. She immediately ran off and handed them to a couple sitting under a piece of broken ship. This could make things easier, I thought. Samara ran right back, smiling. I handed her some more fruit and she ran off handing them to more survivors. We played this game until the box was practically empty. The kid seemed to really enjoy it.

“I only have a few left,” I said, pulling out the last of the tangerines from the box, “Hand them out while I go back to the cart.”

She eyed them eagerly as I gave her the fruit, taking all that was left in her small arms. The cart was pretty much unloaded at this point with just dry goods remaining. I took a package of thick linen shirts as Samara came running up behind me.

“Do ya got more stuff, Jack?” she asked.

“Yeah, some clothing,” I said, pulling out the smallest shirt I could find for her. She excitedly threw it over her head and flapped her arms in the sleeves; it was still a few sizes too big and fit her like a nightgown. She held her arms out. I was confused at first but then realized she wanted her sleeves rolled up.

“I think it’s a dress,” she said.

“In your case I think you’re right,” I said, rolling her cuffs up to her wrists. I pulled some more shirts out, “I gotta hand these out, you still want to help?” She nodded and I handed her a few shirts. “Okay,” I said, “if they don’t fit I have some different sizes.”

Samara walked with me around the watch as we got people clothes. I was used to nights in Night Elf territory; it was cool and foggy as the sea blew over the grass, really relaxing. The Draenei though seemed to huddle together under their blankets in the broken pods or around the fires. They weren’t used to such cool weather. I made sure I got as many of the shirts distributed that night as possible. By the time the last of the box was being handed out though Samara looked dead on her feet.

“Still no sign of your parents?” I asked her. She shook her head with watery eyes, her arms inside her shirt now. The poor kid was shivering head to tail. It was getting really late and we weren’t going to find anyone else tonight so I lead her over to one of the guards.

“Hey, thanks for bringing those supplies in,” the guard said, “My name’s Shmeel, sorry we didn’t get to talk earlier, we’ve been under a lot of strain out here.”

“I’d believe it,” I replied, “and I’m Jack.” Then I motioned towards Samara, “this girl lost her parents, I took her around the watch a few times but she didn’t recognize any of the refugees.”

The guard’s face grew dark, “I’m sorry, but if they’re not here or at the Exodar...”

Samara got upset by this and looked away, eyes full of tears.

“Well, I found her here. I don’t think she’s been to the Exodar yet so they might have just gotten separated,” I said.

“That’s possible,” Shmeel replied hopefully.

Samara looked at me with pleading eyes, “Can we go there? I want my mom.”

First fetch quests, and now an escort? Oh hell no, “Kid, first off I'm not your babysitter, and second there are nightstalkers among other things all over the road. It's not safe for you to travel.”

The girl's eyes teared up as she started to cry, “But Jack, I miss my mommy!”

I massaged my temples with my hand. Shmeel gave me a look of disappointment, but what was I supposed to do, go traipsing through the forest with someone else's kid? She wasn't my responsibility. Besides, what were the chances her parents were there anyway? We all knew where this was going, no use dragging it out. I wasn't much older when I lost my parents, and I still ended up...

I looked at the kid again, sobbing at the ground. It brought me back to my first few days in Darnassus and the cold looks the Night Elf sentinels gave me as I looked for my parents in that maze of a city. They knew what happened, they knew where I'd end up. I wasn't their responsibility. A slow sigh escaped my lungs as I stood there, ashamed of my own excuses and self pity. I was a paladin god damn it, self sacrifice for the good of others. Nothing else mattered.

“Alright Samara,” I said, “When I go back to the Exodar, I can bring you along.”

She smiled a bit at this news and I turned back to the guard, “I’ve got to bring that elekk and the cart back tomorrow anyway.”

Shmeel nodded, “Alright, she’d be safer over there anyway, they're much better equipped to handle this kind of thing. Still, I’ll keep an ear to the ground at the watch and if anyone turns up I’ll send them your way.”

“Thanks, Shmeel,” I said. Then I looked at Samara, “let’s find a place to get some sleep.”

“Okay,” she replied, voice still quivering.

The shelters were all pretty ramshackle but it was breezy that night and I didn’t want the kid sleeping out in the cold. A broken escape pod with some tarps and hides on the floor already housed a few Draenei inside, but we squeezed in and shut the tarp flap over the front. Samara laid down on one of the nightstalker hides, bundled up in her shirt. I unclasped my cloak and laid it over her like a blanket before undoing my gear and settling in myself. Samara was asleep the second she laid down, and I wasn’t far behind.

The next morning I found her still asleep, so I went out and got everything ready for the trip back. By the time Samara woke up I was finishing breakfast with Shmeel by the cart. She slumped out of the pod, still wearing my cloak like a robe.

“You ready to get going there,” I asked, handing her a slice of melon.

She bit into it, the juice running everywhere, and wiped her face with one of her oversized sleeves, “We’re going to the Exodar, right Jack?”

“Yeah, we’ll see if we can find your parents there,” I said.

Samara scrambled into the cart got situated between some of the empty wooden crates. Waving goodbye to Shmeel, I tugged the elekk’s lead a few times and we were off. Every now and then the elekk would get distracted by Samara grabbing at its skinny tail swinging just within reach, but it was still more pleasant than the previous night’s trek. That is until about halfway through.

I stopped the elekk and looked around. Samara peeked out over the top of the cart, “What’s going on, Jack?”

“Stay down, Samara. I think I heard something.”

“Like a nightstalker?”

“I don’t know.” I walked over to her and pushed her back down in the cart, “Stay here while I look around.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly.

I pulled my hammer and shield out and scanned the tree line. The forest wasn’t as dense as Ashenvale or Darkshore but it was still thick, with plenty of undergrowth by these barely used roads. I looked around, something seemed off, and yet familiar. Then it struck me; elves. I whirled around just in time to see a shadow dash between the trees and hit me with a short sword. My shield readied, the blade glanced off the Dwarven steel. I swung at the foe with my hammer but the graceful elf parried and backed away.

“Jack!” Samara cried.

“Get down!” I shouted. She ducked down again as another elf slinked out from the shadows. Two on one, now this is more like it. This is what I’m good at. Heh, time to show those Draenei how we do the Light’s work here on Azeroth. I charged at the one with my hammer, but he dodged the attack, giving me a quick shot to the gut as he did. We exchanged a few blows, their blades unable to penetrate my defenses and my hammer unable to land any real hits.

“Come on, warrior. Give it up and we’ll let the girl go,” one of the elves said.

“Get him, Jack!” Samara yelled.

“Samara!” The elf struck me with his blade, nearly piercing my mail armor. I stumbled back a bit. This ended here. I charged my hammer with holy light; these elves obviously had no idea who they were messing with. The first elven thug attacked me again but this time was struck down with a lash of my judgment, leaving him grasping a glowing wound on his chest. Then the second came at me. I feigned a blow with my hammer and he got ready to parry, but at the last moment I put my shoulder into my shield; a neat trick I picked up off a warrior. His face struck the front of my targe and he fell to my feet, his nose gushing.

I raised my glowing hammer above my head, ready to bring the vengeance of the Light to these heathens. The elves cowered beneath me as I channeled my magic and... I glanced at the cart. Samara was still watching. I looked back at the elves, they couldn’t have been any older than Anya when we were in the Blackfathom Deeps. I felt the anger slowly flicker away from my heart. It couldn’t end like this. Slowly I lowered my hammer and pointed it at the first elf, “Leave here, and pray you find the Light’s grace before you lose mine.”

The two elves scrambled to their feet, nodding frantically as they ran into the forest. Putting my weapons on my back once again, I walked back over to the cart.

“They’re all gone, are you alright?” I asked Samara.

She stared at me with wide eyes, “You’re a paladin!”

“Yeah,” I said, “let’s get going before anyone else shows up.”

I grabbed the elekk’s lead and urged it forward as Samara fumbled around the cart, beside herself with excitement. She told me a couple stories about her favorite heroes from Draenei legends, all of which involved paladins thwarting some evil orc or demon. Apparently, paladins were something like celebrities amongst the Draenei.

“Only the strongest, bravest, greatest Draenei ever are paladins,” she said, jumping out of the moving cart.

“Careful back there,” I said, watching her run to catch up.

“Are you one of the greatest humans?” she asked, her face full of admiration. What was I gonna tell her, that I was some do-nothing adventurer who wanders back to Stormwind whenever I need a steady paycheck?

“Well, they don’t call me Jack Radical for nothing.”

She danced around excitably, the clip-clop of her hooves trailing off as she dashed in and out of the brush.

“Come on, Samara, get back in the cart,” I said.

She ran out of the bushes holding a big stick with a knot in it, “I’m Sir Samara!”

“Heh, okay, Sir Samara. I need you to keep the cart safe in case any more evil elves show up.”

She gave me a salute and jumped in the back of the cart. Samara spent the rest of the trip holding her stick like a hammer, looking back and forth in case any more elves really did show up. As we neared the Exodar she got excited again and started running around in front of me.

“Come on, stupid elekk, go faster,” she said, whacking it with her stick.

“Easy,” I said.

The elekk waved its trunk at the stick, trying to grab it from her, but she pulled away, “Hah, not fast enough!”

Half an hour later I finally managed to get the elekk back to the stables. The keeper seemed amused by Samara but unfortunately didn’t know her parents.

“I’d say check at the medical tent,” he said, “That seems to be where people missing loved ones are gathering outside of the city.”

“Thanks, I’ll head over there next,” I said, “Let’s go, kiddo.”

I noticed as we walked to the tent that things were calmer than the previous day. The influx of supplies was definitely having an effect. A few people waved at me, still wearing the blankets I’d given them the night prior. We walked into the medical tent and found a few dozen people still lining the walls, looking for missing loved ones. Samara looked them over, but came back to me nervously clutching her stick, “They’re not here.”

“Let’s check inside the city then,” I said.

“Okay,” she replied, still worried. I took her hand through the crowd of people milling about in front of the Exodar and walked her down the ramp to the main chamber. Carefully I lead her towards the inn where I found Syndra working.

“Hey,” I said, “Things are looking better around here.”

Syndra look up, “Oh, Sir Abrams, you’re back already!”

“His name’s Jack Radical!” Samara said.

“And who’s this?”

“This,” I said, patting the kid's head, “Is Sir Samara.” She straightened up, holding her hammer-stick straight at attention. “I found her alone over at Azure Watch so I'm helping her look for her parents.”

Syndra’s ears perked up, “Wait, Samara? Hold on a second.” She ran off into the crowded inn, emerging a minute later with a bedraggled looking Draenei woman in tow. As soon as she set her eyes on Samara, she burst into tears.

“Mommy!” Samara cried, running over to the woman and leaping into her arms.

The woman scooped her up and held her tight, kissing the top of her head, “My precious baby!” she choked between sobs of joy, “Oh, thank the Light you’re safe!”

Samara hugged her mom, “I’m okay, Jack kept me safe.”

The woman stepped towards me; the look on her face was indescribable. She bowed her head, “Thank you, a thousand times, for keeping my little girl safe. I... I thought I’d lost everything.”

I didn’t really know what to say, “Um, your welcome, ma’am.”

“Guess what, mom. Jack’s a paladin!” Samara said, getting down from her mom’s arms.

“You’re a paladin?” she said, looking at me with that same curious look I got from Syndra and Sir Pallen, “What am I saying, of course you are. If your kind are half as noble as you, sir, then I am happy to call Azeroth my home.”

I smiled, “I’m just glad I could actually help.”

“Mom, me and Jack handed out stuff to people from his cart, and we camped out, and then he fought off these two big elfs!” Samara said, swinging her stick at imaginary foes.

“Two big elves?” she said, looking at me.

“They were just little elves,” I replied.

“Then he whacked em, and they ran off!” Samara added.

Her mom looked at me appreciatively, then took her daughter’s hand and led her back towards the inn, “Let’s get you something to eat and you can tell me all about it.”

We watched them until they were lost in the crowds. I turned to Syndra and she looked at me with a kind of meekness. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh, just... I’m sorry about before, Sir Abrams, err, Jack,” she said.

“What? Oh don’t worry about it,” I said, “I know among your people paladins are supposed to be big shots or something.”

She bowed her head towards me, “Yes, and I was a fool to doubt your heroism, please forgive me.”

“Wait, you think I’m a...” I couldn’t finish the sentence, it just seemed wrong. Heroes slay dragons, battle demons, conquer Orcish hordes, hold the line, and die valiantly. They don’t wander around leading elekks to and fro with little kids. That was just, well, I didn’t know. It was just being a decent human being I guess. I looked at Syndra; she seemed genuinely upset about disrespecting me. “Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

She nodded, “I thank you for all the help you’ve given us. Sir Pallen will be pleased to hear about our progress.”

“Yeah, though that reminds me, I should probably check in with him now that things have started to settle down,” I said. “But uh, I’ll be around, so if you need a hand with anything let me know, okay?”

“Of course, Jack Radical,” Syndra said, a smile peeking through.

Behind us, there was a loud clatter followed by a Night Elf yelping in pain. We turned to see Samara holding her stick in two hands, waving it around like she was conjuring holy magic. “Feel the power of the Light, evil elfs!” she said.

“I’m going to miss that kid,” I said. Syndra chuckled as I headed towards the Chamber of Light.

Deep in the chamber, Sir Pallen, a second paladin, and a number of other important looking Draenei were busy looking at diagrams to reinforce some broken structural beams in the Exodar walls. I was no engineer so I couldn’t possibly make sense of the math involved, but the giant piece of crystal jutting into the support beam they were all looking at seemed pretty self explanatory. Unless of course it was a load-bearing crystal. You never can tell with magic, just look at Dalaran.

Seeing me coming, Sir Pallen excused himself from the others. “Sir Abrams, you have returned,” he said, “I take it everything went smoothly?”

“Well, the supplies got there okay,” I said, “But I ran into a pair of elven highwaymen on the way back.”

Sir Pallen gave me a concerned look, “Night Elves?”

“No, High Elves. They were dressed in red and gold, I gave them a thrashing but they got away.”

“What!?” he shouted, “You mean to tell me those arrogant Blood Elves have chased us all the way to Azeroth?”

Blood Elves, that was a name I’d heard floating around recently. At first I’d thought they were just a small clan of radicals, but as it turned out the entirety of Silvermoon now identified as such. If there were Blood Elves nearby, that could mean a major security risk not just for the Draenei but Darnassus as well.

Sir Pallen clapped me on the shoulder, “I appreciate the warning, who knows what might have happened if we’d sent a caravan without guards.” He walked back over towards his colleagues, “Our supplies are limited as is, we can’t afford to lose any to saboteurs.”

“I’m just sorry I let them get away,” I replied.

“Perhaps it will serve as a warning to the others,” he said, “either way, it appears our old foes are still at our throats. We will no doubt need allies in these coming months.”

“Does this mean I can arrange a meeting with the Alliance diplomats for you?” I asked.

Sir Pallen smiled, “The Night Elves have been more than helpful with their aid since the crash, and you've upheld your word in helping my people. We are indebted to your Alliance.”

“Great, I will send word back to the Order immediately. They should have Dwarven and Human emissaries ready to meet with your Exarch before the week is out.”

“Then it is settled,” he said, “until we meet again, Sir Abrams, may your days be long and your hardships few.”

Sir Pallen saluted me and I him. The fact he finally seemed to recognize me as a paladin felt good. I rambled about the Exodar for a bit, trying to decide if I wanted to go back yet or if I wanted to stick around and help some more. Who was I kidding, I wanted to see Syndra again. Why not, I figured, this might be my last chance.

The line at the inn had grown since I was through previously. It took me almost an hour before I got to the front of the line where Syndra was still sorting everyone out. When I came to her she looked a little surprised to see me back, “Jack, what are you doing here?”

“I finished my business with Sir Pallen,” I said, “If everything goes smoothly, I'll be welcoming you into the Alliance.”

“That's wonderful!” she replied, “but... does that mean you're leaving?”

“I was thinking I could hang around for one more night if there's space.”

Syndra looked at the papers on the desk in front of her, “I should be able to squeeze you in... uh, to a room. Into a room!” Her blue face blushed into a deep purple.

“There's no rush, I'll be over in the Trader's Tier for a while checking things out. Why don't you meet me there when your shift is over?”

“Yeah, okay,” she said while failing to hide a smile.

I left her to finish her work, heading in the direction of the Trader's Tier. It was full of artisans and shopkeepers, all of which were selling exotic gems, carvings, or similar wares. Valuable and magical items for sure, but unfortunately for the Draenei they couldn't eat gems. Most of the shops were just crudely made tents with workbenches, but at least it was shelter and a way to make money. Feeling obligated to buy something, I purchased a beautiful jade necklace from one of the jewel crafters. It was remarkably cheap for jade but I wasn't sure that was due to the owner’s dire straits or because all of the walls had precious gems just sticking out of them. I guess it was a little of both.

It took a while for me to make a full circuit of the marketplace. By the time I came to the main hall again I found Syndra sitting on a pile of empty crates near the entrance to the tier. Her eyes lit up when she saw me walk out.

“Hey, I hope you weren't waiting too long,” I said, pulling out the necklace, “I got ya something.”

“Oh, Jack, that's so sweet!” she exclaimed, getting up. Syndra examined it for a moment before pulling her hair back so I could put it on her. It looked gorgeous next to her dark brown locks. The two of us walked along the main hall in silence for a moment before she eventually spoke up, “Jack, I never got a chance to properly thank you for all your help.”

“Forget about it,” I said, “It's what paladins do, right?”

She looked a little uncomfortable, “Well, Sir Pallen did help us, but the other paladins and their guards...” She kind of trailed off for a second, “They've never been in a situation like this. There's no code or protocol for this kind of disaster.”

I saw where she was going, “Don't be too hard on them, they’re only doing what they think is right, even if it doesn’t look like much right now.” I ran my fingers through my hair, the reality of what I was about to say hitting me, “The only reason the Alliance is able to mobilize so quickly is we've had a lot of practice with these kinds of catastrophes.”

“That's... horrible, but at least you've learned from it,” she said, “hopefully we'll learn from this too.”

“You already are,” I said, motioning to the people setting up makeshift shops and moving supplies through the main hall. “You’re people are damn resilient.”

“I see what you mean,” she said, “but as I was saying, your delivery to Azure Watch and taking care of that little girl, no one else would have gone out of their way to do all that,” she looked away for a moment, “It shows what kind of a person you are.”

“Yeah? And what kind is that?” I asked.

Syndra played with her necklace, “Kind, strong, gentle, humble...”

“Humble?” I reiterated, “You do realize you're talking to a guy named Jack Radical.”

“Do people really call you that?”

“Only the ones who matter,” I said, “You did.”

“I guess,” she said with a shy grin, “Still, you’re not like the other paladins. You never acted too important to carry a crate of food or hand out some blankets, you just wanted to help.”

“That's just being a decent person,” I said.

“That's being a hero, Jack,” she replied, “You helped saved people and gave them hope.”

“That... huh. I never really thought of it that way.”

She stopped me by the back of the hall. There weren't many people around this area, just piles of debris and rubble with the occasional tent. She looked me in the eye, but her expression was still nervous, “I’ll admit when we were introduced I didn't know what to make of you.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that impression.”

“I thought of Sir Pallen as strong and brave, but then when I met him he was so aloof. You...” her tenuous gaze fell to the floor, “you’re everything I imagined a paladin would be.”

This poor girl, she thought of me as some champion now. This didn't feel right. Sure, I was flattered, and Jack Radical is many things. But a role model? No, just look what happened with Samara. One full day together and she's off smacking elves with sticks. “Look, Syndra,” I said, “I'm not a hero, and definitely not one of your legendary paladins. I’m just a merc, I only work for the Silver Hand when they’re paying.”

She shook her head, “That little girl and her mother disagree, as do I. You just don’t like to admit it.”

This was starting to sound familiar, I guess Anya wasn’t lying before when she said I was a good man. It felt so strange to be… admired. Syndra looked like she was going to say something but couldn't find the words. Her tail flicked back and forth with anxious tension. She knew what she wanted but wouldn’t dare say it to someone she respected so much. I stepped forward and put my arm around her waist. She leaned into my embrace as I reached up behind her neck, pulling her close. “If you want,” I said, speaking softly, my eyes gazing into hers, “I can be your hero tonight.”

Her arms wrapped around me, pulling me towards her lips. She kissed me with such passion; I was lost in the moment. I returned the favor, bringing her down to my level and pressing her back against the wall. Her hands ran down my chain shirt as I broke away to kiss her neck, her breasts pressing against my chest. At some point she spun me around, her fingers running through my hair as I felt her tongue in my mouth, my back supported by the cold metal wall of the Exodar. By the time I had a moment to catch my breath we'd been snogging for over an hour.

“I don't suppose you really have a place for me to stay tonight,” I asked her as she smooched my neck.

“Mm, of course I do,” she replied, pulling away. Syndra tugged on my hand, beckoning me to follow her.