<51>
	“You didn’t,” a feminine voice suddenly rang out.  Shele stood in the back doorway of the house with her green robes slung over one shoulder.  She looked at Drenan with a sad smile and added, “This was my doing, and I am so very sorry if I’ve caused you both trouble.  I… I should probably just-”
	“Stop,” Drenan echoed firmly with a stern expression.  Still nude, he boldly strode up to Shele, towering over her.  “How long were you listening?”
	Shele did not waver, but rather looked up at him sadly.  “Most of it.  Your window upstairs was open.”
	The intimidating paladin exhaled through his nose slowly.  “I told you yesterday that I’d treated you unfairly… and it would appear that I have continued that, despite my promise not to.”  His expression softened considerably.
	The druid shook her head.  “I understand, Drenan.  I understand better than you might think.  I was younger than Lyrah when I met my first love, and we spent three of the best years of my life together.”  Shele paused for a long moment to collect herself and continue.  “He died in a lone trip across the Barrens… struck down by a centaur.  That was over fifty years ago, and to this day I still think about him and what could’ve been.  After his death, I vowed to make my love free and open, and when I met you, Drenan, I could see what you were going through in that same vein.  I wanted to help you, and I did so as best as I could, and over time I… I had hoped that maybe you might… I don’t know… I don’t know what I had hoped for,” she admitted as she fought back her own tears.  “I guess I just… thought we had something in common,” he added with a stuttery chuckle for her meager attempt at light humor.
	Drenan reached out for her as her words faded, and as she fell into his embrace she shamelessly began to sob into his chest.  Lyrah tentatively approached the pair and attempted to embrace them both, patting Shele on the back gently.  The trio slowly made their way indoors, and as Shele’s sobbing began to subside they each found their respective clothes and redressed before taking a seat together in the living room.  Many deep breaths were had by all three, and a long silence ensued before Drenan could find his words.  “Shele, you are our family, too.  Apologies can only go so far, but… I want you to know that it was never personal that I did not approach you more… intimately.”
	“I know that, Drenan,” she assured him and wiped a final sniffle away.  “Last night made me happier than I think I’ve been in a very long time.  You two have brought so much joy to my heart, and without you over the years I very well may have withered away into nothingness.  You’ve given my life purpose, and you’ve given me people to care for and love as if they were my own kin.  That will never change,” she stated firmly, which in turn brought smiles to all three of them.  “I… if you two are happy, then that will make me happy.  That’s all I want.”
	Drenan nodded quickly.  “But we want you to be happy too.  I have caused you so much-”
	“Distress over unrequited love,” she finished for him with a chuckle.  “I was far in the wrong no matter how much of a dumb bull you can be,” she added with a wry smile.
	“Be that as it may, I hope you know that you are loved by the both of us, Shele,” Drenan returned.  “We still want to see you every week, even after we move, and what happened last night… well, I would like a second chance at it sometime… if that’s okay with Lyrah.”
	Lyrah looked to her father with a sprightly smile and nodded.  “Agreed.”
	Shele’s smile seemed to expand threefold at their words, and suddenly she lurched forward and threw an arm around both of their necks in embrace.  “Thank you… thank you so much… both of you.  I love you both so much.”  Both tauren returned her embrace warmly, and as she pulled back she reached into a pocket of her robes and withdrew a rolled piece of parchment, handing it to Lyrah.  “Here.  This is the recipe for the potion for your father.  Take it, study it.  It’s not difficult to produce, and the ingredients read more like a cooking recipe than an alchemical one.”  She looked to Drenan.  “I never should have held that over your head like I did, and I never will again.”
	Drenan wholeheartedly hugged Shele right on the spot, and as he pulled back he leaned in and brought forth a final kiss upon her lips.  “We can’t thank you enough ourselves.”
	Shele blushed deeply at the gesture, and as she turned to Lyrah she was yet again bombarded with a surprise, deep kiss.  “Don’t stay away for too long, okay?” Lyrah requested.  “You’ll always have a place in our home, and if you ever wanted to… you know… stay, it’d be nice to have a mom around, too.”
	If the druid could’ve burst into flame, she probably would have as hot as her cheeks got.  All three slowly stood, and after some more casual, friendly farewells, Shele backed out the front door and reluctantly shifted into the form of a large, horned bird before flying off toward her home in the Moonglade.
As their door closed, Drenan and Lyrah both exhaled in relief.  The encounter had been filled with far more emotions than either had expected.  “You okay, dad?” Lyrah asked and took his hand gently.
Drenan squeezed her hand warmly in return, smiling.  “I am well, sweetheart.  Better than I think I’ve been in a long time.”
Her smile brightened and she leaned in closer to him.  “Good.  We all just need to be happy.”
“Easier said than done,” he returned with a chuckle.
“True,” she admitted.  “But how could anyone be sad when Hallow’s End is so close?”
<52> HOLIDAY BREAK - HE & PB
“I don’t know if we’ll be able to take much with us, sweetheart.  We don’t exactly know where we’ll end up,” the elder tauren remarked.  He stood at the center of their shared room with his hands on his hips and an uncertain look on his face.  Several packs full of various commodities had already been filled to the brim, and the room itself looked far more naked than before.
Lyrah shrugged absently.  She was crouched on the floor sorting through some of her possessions.  “It’s no big deal.  They’re just things.  I made it three years without most of this stuff.”  She turned and flashed her father a cheerful smile.  “I think I’m almost done, actually.”
Drenan offered her a nervous smile of his own.  “Well, good.  I suppose we should be able to take off tomorrow morning then.”  I, uh… I suppose I should work on that myself.”
Before Lyrah could respond he was out the door, and she couldn’t help but ponder his words briefly before dropping her task and quietly poking her head out the doorway after him.  Drenan hadn’t gone far, though he seemed lost in his own little world as he stepped slowly down the hall.  The sturdy house Lyrah had grown up didn’t have much in terms of ornate decor, but it was clear her father’s attention was on the blank walls themselves.
“This is it,” he murmured to himself, just barely within earshot of Lyrah.  “I suppose it shouldn’t be this difficult, but… I’m sorry you never got to see it for yourself.”  Drenan started down the stairs, and with intense interest she silently snuck down the hall after him.  He seemed completely unaware of Lyrah’s presence as he continued.  “It has been a good home.  I made sure it had everything you wanted, and I know Lyrah has benefitted from that.  She’s become quite the accomplished cook.”  The paladin stopped dead in the living room and did a slow 360 look about, forcing Lyrah to briefly duck out of sight at the top of the stairs.  Many of their usual cushions had been crated, as had most of the kitchen utensils and other furnishings of the house, ready to be sent off to the auction house.  Some of the more personal items had been placed in their banks, though to hold onto everything would’ve overflowed their accounts and then some.  “Almost nineteen years.  I… It is difficult to think about.  I had no true home before I built this place, and this is the only permanent home Lyrah’s ever known.  I… I do not want to leave,” he confessed to the empty room.  
Lyrah’s eyes went wide as she listened, and she found herself suddenly feeling rather choked up.  The move was her father’s idea, but it was ultimately to protect her from the impending stigma Orgrimmar threatened them with.  Thoughts of doubt and shame began to whirl through her mind, but as he began to speak again she forced them away to listen.
“But… whether it be today or ten years from now, I have to leave.  Azshara was our home, but you… it is yours no longer.  It has not been yours for almost two decades.”  Drenan’s voice began to choke, and Lyrah could hear him clear his throat before he started down the hall past the stairs, headed toward the back door.  She waited until she heard the door shut before she slipped down the stairs and cracked the door just enough to peer through.  His back was still to her, and as he passed the wooden tub he let a callous hand gently run over its polished side and fall away.  His small steps led him to the two only trees in the yard, and his eyes turned upward to look between them both.  The trees had turned color late this year, and despite verging upon December they still were filled with multicolored leaves.  “We planted these together, remember?  It was back when we first met.”  His gaze dropped down where the hammock had once been strung up between them.  “It was the only place I could get any sleep after Lyrah was born.  Not that she was difficult -she hardly ever cried- but I… it felt like part of you was still in this tree… and I needed to be close to that.”  
The sneaky shaman bit back her sadness as she watched him.  Over the years, Drenan had spoken little of her mother.  He had never avoided her questions about her, but he seldom told stories or gave heavy details about her.  His answers were often brief and to the point, but Lyrah, even after their first union, had never doubted that he still loved her mother.
Drenan leaned heavily against the left tree as he looked to the ground.  “Sometimes I wonder what you’d think if you were still here toda-”  As if on cue, a brisk wind whipped across the landscape, and a single branch shot down from the tree to crack Drenan’s cheek surprisingly sharply.  The paladin recoiled quickly and put a hand to his face, though his other remained on the tree to keep his balance.
Lyrah squeaked in surprise at the odd occurrence, and before she knew it she’d pushed the door open and darted out toward her father.  “Dad!  You okay?” she cried, breathing heavily as she’d stopped near him.  One hand went to his waist as the other gently guided his hand from his cheek to observe the injury, though there was no scratch or blood.
The paladin stood in place with a dull, surprised look upon his face.  His gaze was still off in the distance as his daughter looked him over, and it took him several moments before he responded with, “It’s… okay,” in a gently incredulous tone.
The shaman shot him a skeptical look.  “What?”
Slowly but surely, the light seemed to return to his eyes.  “It’s okay… there was no malice in that strike.”  His focus steadily turned to Lyrah as a small smile crossed his face.  “That was an awful quick response for someone who should’ve been upstairs.”
Lyrah shrank a bit at this.  “S-sorry,” she was quick to return with.  “I couldn’t help it.”
“You heard, then?” he prodded.
“Everything,” she assured him, her ears drooping.
Then, to Lyrah’s surprise, Drenan pulled her into a deep embrace and added, “Your mother says hello, and apparently she’s told me to wake up and quit pouting.”  A rumbling chuckle followed his words as he drew her back to arm’s length.  “I did not mean for you to hear me going on like that, sweetheart, but… I am glad you did.”
She looked at him with deep concern and asked simply, “Why?”
The paladin shifted uncomfortably before responding.  “Kinah meant a great deal to me when she was alive.  It has been difficult to even think about her at times, let alone talk about her… but you deserve to know about your mother more than I’ve said.  This home… it has simply been a reminder of the pain that her passing brought me rather than one of warmth and of the times we shared during her life.  As much as I cling to this place, it’s time for me to let it go.”
Lyrah looked up at him sadly and fell against his chest once more.  “I’m so sorry, dad.  I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.  I can hardly imagine what it must’ve been like.”  The younger tauren struggled to hold back more tears, and with emotional eyes she looked back up at him and asked, “You need a good reminder, then.  We need to find a good place to build a new home, and maybe we could make a little shrine to mom or something.”
Drenan let out a choked chuckle at this.  “No.  I already have a good reminder, and wherever we go, she’ll be with me,” he assured her and tenderly pressed his forehead against hers.  “As much as you look like Kinah, you are Lyrah, and you will always be my Lyrah.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Both tauren looked into each other’s eyes for a very long moment, until suddenly both of them burst out into choked laughter.  The tears steadily subsided as the pair embraced yet again and fell into a deep kiss.  As the two parted, the both of them turned to look at the sturdy house they had called their home.  “I dunno if this means much… but I’m proud of you, dad.  I know mom would be happy with you, and I think she’d want us to be able to move on.”  She looked back to him with a much brighter smile.  “I’m not worried.”
The paladin inhaled and exhaled shakily as his own smile returned in full force.  “Indeed.”
<53>
The midday sun was high in the sky as the beating wings of the wyvern began to slow.  It was no simple task for a mount to carry not one, but two heavy tauren.  It didn’t help that Drenan had bothered to don his informal Paladinic regalia, which meant a cobbled together set of steel gray plates with red bindings that covered most of his torso and legs, but left his arms mostly bare.  Lyrah wore yet another one of her shamanic outfits, though this one included a red-and-black, struggling tank top and a matching kilt that dropped to her ankles.  Altogether it was enough weight to cause Drenan to silently curse himself for not choosing a mechanical mount.  They had made rather good time, however, and they were already gliding high above the gray wastes of Desolace.  Rocky landscape dominated their view, save for a single, lush green oasis that stood at the region’s center.
Lyrah’s early awakening had left her less rested than she’d intended, and as Drenan glanced back at her he realized she was softly snoring against his back.  A sudden lurch of the weakening wyvern disturbed her rhythmic breathing, and in turn a soft moan brought her back to drowsy consciousness.  “Mmmh… where are we, dad?”
“We’re almost halfway across Desolace.”  He gave the exhausted wyvern an appreciative pat on the neck.  “I definitely don’t remember the oasis, but I’m… hesitant to consider a home here.”
The shaman rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times to take in the new sights.  “Oh, I dunno.  You’ll have to see the glade first.  Karnum takes very good care of it.”
Drenan glanced back at his daughter curiously.  “You know the druids here well?”
“I was out here for a couple weeks, yeah,” she returned brightly.  “Karnum’s pretty nice, and they all really care about bringing this place back to life.  There’s a lot of promise for growth.”
“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it,” he added with a sigh.  The barren landscape unnerved Drenan, and he couldn’t help but feel nervous as their wyvern slumped to a halt on the ground at the glade’s edge.  Drenan gave the beast another appreciative pat as the pair of tauren dismounted, and with a wave of his hand the beast gratefully took off to find a resting place.
“So…” Lyrah piped up as they turned to head into the glade.  “What exactly do we call ourselves out here?  Like… are we still, you know, family, or…?”
Drenan bit his lip as he considered her words.  “Remaining father and daughter for the time being might be best, as I fear we’re not truly that far from home yet.  I am not so worried about the druids, but the travelers worry me.”  He looked briefly between her and the glade.
“Travelers are everywhere, dad,” she pointed out quietly.
“I know, I know.  I’m just trying to be cautious is all,” he returned and gave her hand a soft squeeze before reluctantly letting go.  “Even if we like it here, this will not be our only stop.  Once we get to Feralas we can relax our defenses.  The rampant wilderness will keep away prying eyes.”
“Well… okay,” she added with a resigned sigh.  There wasn’t inherently anything wrong with that -he was still her father after all- but a part of her couldn’t help but feel a little down about it.  He meant more to her than that now, and part of her wanted to openly display her love for him as a couple.  She understood his reasoning, but it was hard to bite back that wisp of despair.
The glade itself was a marvel to behold.  Only a few small buildings -mostly of night elf make- stood around the glade’s perimeter, and at its center stood an elegant shrine to Elune composed of bright, white stone.  Terrifyingly tall trees towered above the small glade and secluded it completely from the wastes beyond.  For Drenan it felt like a tentative calm, but for Lyrah it was simply a dazzling gem in the rough.
A smattering of tauren and night elves milled about the glade to tend to its lush greenery.  Few paid the newcomers any heed, save for one.  A gray-bearded tauren male grinned as he stepped down from the shrine and strode toward them.  “Lyrah Lighthand!  It is good to see you still draw breath,” he remarks and offers her a hand.  “What brings you back here?  And who might this be?” he asks and turns to Drenan.
Lyrah beamed with pride and took his hand gratefully.  “It’s good to see you too, Karnum!  This is my father, Drenan.”
The paladin took Karnum in with a stern gaze and offered his own, powerful handshake.  “A pleasure,” he rumbled deeply.  “Much has changed since my last endeavors here.  Is this oasis sustainable?” he asked bluntly.
Karnum returned the handshake briefly, though his strength was not what it had once been.  “We are making every attempt to grow it further, but the… locals have made it difficult.  Why?”
Lyrah cut him off before he could respond.  “Don’t worry about him, he’s just business as usual.  This place is as safe as ever since my last visit, right?”  She gave the druid an expectant look.
“Yes… yes, I suppose so,” he replied, however without warning the elder suddenly turned his back to them.  “Now, where did I leave that Dreamfoil…?” he said more to himself than anything as he slowly wandered away.
Both Drenan and Lyrah exchanged stern looks, though Lyrah beat him to the angrily-whispered retort.  “What was that!?  Dad, come on, be nice!”
“I am being nice,” he insisted.  “I am just... not convinced of this place’s safety.”
“This is Karnum’s baby!  You cannot just insult him like that to his face when he’s worked his tail off to make this place beautiful!  I stopped the naga threat myself the last time I was here, we’re fine!”  The shaman drew herself up to her full height, though she was still no match for Drenan’s intimidating stature.  Nonetheless, she remained stern-faced before him.
“Lyrah, we are here to find a home.  If I do not ask, we have to find out the hard way,” he explained gruffly.  “And as much as I used to love battle, I’d rather avoid it when we’re out and about.  I won’t go looking for trouble with you at my side.”
Her eyes narrowed into a glare.  “You don’t think I can take care of myself,” she accused bluntly.
“What!?” Drenan hissed as his expression contorted to one of shock.  “I never…!”
“You know what, dad?  Just you wait and see.  Azeroth’s dangerous, and wherever we go we’re gonna find danger.  There’s no two ways about it, so I suggest you quickly get over it or we’ll never find a new home!”  Her angrily-whispered words hung in the air as she let out a frustrated growl, turned away, and stomped off toward the opposite edge of the glade.
<54>
	Drenan watched her walk away with a hurt look on his face.  He hadn’t had a proper argument with her since before her departure, and he’d forgotten exactly how much they’d stung.  Lyrah had always been a passionate one, and if anything he admired the passion she had for the glade, but he’d seen too much in his time to be as comfortable as she was.  Azeroth was a world in constant conflict, and the ever-shifting temperament of some zones could not be held back for long.
	Nonetheless, even if he apologized, he knew better than to approach her just yet.  She was an adult now, but her demeanor reminded him of the occasional time where she’d slam her door shut and lock herself away to cool down after a disagreement.  She needed time, and he needed to think.  With a sigh the paladin turned away and headed to the outer ring of the glade, drew his ever-faithful warhammer from his pack, and began a swift pace along the glade’s outer perimeter.
	Lyrah grimaced as she walked away.  She was proud of the work she’d done for the struggling glade, and to her it seemed like her father hardly acknowledged it!  She turned her gaze upward to the towering trees, and while she was no druid, she could feel the earth beneath the glade struggling to maintain life.  It pained her to think about, but it gave her renewed confidence that she needed to fight for it.  After a bit of meandering she made her way over to a hut where a pair of druids were tending to some elemental plants, and with a smile she introduced herself and followed with, “How can I help?”
	Barely an hour had passed before Drenan had completed his second walk around the glade.  Aside from a few rambunctious elementals, all had been mostly quiet.  He hefted his hammer off of his shoulder with a sigh as he was about to return to Lyrah, but he stopped as Karnum himself came walking toward him.  “Drenan Lighthand,” he addressed him gravely.  “It has been years since I have heard that name, but I trust the Sunwalkers, and by extension I trust you.  We need to talk.”
	Drenan fought his defensive instinct, though he thought himself fortunate to have disguised their relationship if Karnum knew of him.  “I am flattered, sir, but I have not officially been with the Sunwalkers in years.”
	“It does not matter,” the aged druid assured him kindly.  “You are capable, as is your daughter from what I have seen, and I have a special task to ask of you, if you would.”
	The paladin could read Karnum’s face as plain as day.  “The glade’s not safe yet, is it?”
	“Not at all,” he said sadly.  “We are safe enough in the daylight, but at night the centaur clans have been attacking in heavy numbers.  The Cenarion Circle has fended them off, but each night seems to draw more and more from the remaining clans.  If this continues, they will overrun the glade within the month.”
	Drenan listened intently to every word as he silently put his chin in one hand to think.  “Do you know where they retreat to during the day?”
	“They have at least two remaining outposts that we know of.  The Magram lie close to our eastern border, while the Gelkis reside further south.”
	“I see,” he returned, followed by a long pause as the gears in his head turned.  “They need to be taken care of, then.  Perhaps after I consult Lyrah-”
	“Time is not a heavy commodity,” Karnum stopped him quickly.  “If you leave now you can still make both outposts before nightfall.  I have heard tales of your battles, and I have no doubt you could decimate their forces all on your own.”
	Drenan immediately grew suspicious.  “Why have you not told Lyrah?”
	“It is not her place.  She has done her part for us, and we can ask no more of her,” he returned quickly.  “Centaurs are dangerous.  She handled the naga expertly for us, but these barbarians are another ordeal entirely.  You take her out there, and you endanger her far worse than you can imagine.”  The druid’s tone sounded borderline frantic as he spoke.
	“Your concern is… misplaced,” Drenan returned sternly.  “She is more capable than you give her credit for.  Simply send her to one camp while I make for the other, and time will no longer be an issue.”
	Karnum’s eyes widened.  “You condemn her to death if you do!  They… they are more organized now than they ever have been!  She would be ambushed and killed before she even set hoof among them!”
	The heavy shift in the druid’s demeanor threw him off guard.  Karnum seemed utterly mortified, and as odd as the druid seemed, Drenan couldn’t ignore the plea.  “Fine.  Keep a close eye on her while I’m gone then, Karnum,” Drenan said in the deepest, most threatening rumble he could muster.  The druid hardly relaxed as Drenan turned away, and with a sharp whistle a black-skinned kodo adorned in red and yellow Brewfest attire came thundering across the plains to stop right before Drenan.  The paladin did not look back as he mounted up and went speeding at breakneck speed to the east.
	Lyrah, on the other hand, had milled about the other druids and collecting a small assortment of herbs she was unfamiliar with.  She needed the distraction, but still her mind was clouded with wisps of their argument.  In truth she appreciated how much her father cared, but it was difficult not to feel like he didn’t think she could fight when he wouldn’t give her a chance to do so.  At least that’s how she read the exchange, but after a while her steady breathing helped calm her, and with a quick goodbye to the druids, she took to a quick search around the glade.  “Dad?  You around?” she called out.
	“He left,” Karnum suddenly chimed in and caused Lyrah to turn a sharp 180 to look at him.  “He said he wanted to see for himself that the area was safe.”
	The shaman looked at Karnum incredulously.  “Where… where’d he go?”
	“South.  To the centaurs.”
<55>
	The bulky kodo made quick work of the long distance, and Drenan eased the beast to a stop behind a jagged ridge and dismissed him out of sight of the pacing patrols.  The paladin peered carefully past his hiding spot and took intent notice of the pair of pacing patrolmen.  Neither seemed overly alert, nor did they appear as aggressive as Karnum seemed to think.  Not that Drenan had ever liked the primitive race, and while he had no outward reason not to trust Karnum, it seemed wrong to just walk in out of blind faith.  The paladin left his hammer on his back and slowly stepped out of hiding to approach the patrollers.  “Pardon!  Can you understand Orcish?  I mean no harm if you do not as well.”
	Both centaurs perked up immediately.  Their equine lower bodies clearly tensed up, while their muscular, humanoid upper bodies tightened their grip on their held spears.  “He is here!  Now!” one of them cried in clear Orcish, and all at once the gates burst open as a dozen or more centaurs came charging at him.
	Drenan grimaced as he drew his hammer.  At least he could say he made an attempt.
* * * * *
	An angry Lyrah stormed off to the southern edge of the glade and beyond, her eyes turned to the ground as she stewed over her father’s blatant disregard for her… until she caught the clear sight of his heavy hoofprints in the spongy greenery below.  His tracks went both ways around the glade’s edge, but none headed southward like she’d been informed.  Curiosity got the best of her, and she took to following his tracks counterclockwise around the glade.
	As she reached the easternmost edge, a new set of much larger footprints appeared heading eastward from the original path.  She knew the kodo’s tracks instantly, and she realized something didn’t add up with what Karnum had said.  The shaman swallowed hard as fear and concern began to overwhelm her, and with a steeled gaze she summoned her own mount -a vibrant violet talbuk she’d acquired on her travels- and made haste to follow the heavily-embedded tracks.
* * * * * 
	“Stand down!” the paladin cried and swung his massive hammer squarely into the nearest centaur’s right flank.  A faint aura of light surrounded the paladin as he readied himself to strike again, but he felt the aura flicker out just as quickly as it had come, and he was forced to throw his entire body to the ground to duck a pair of spears that swung at him.  With a grunt he hefted his hammer in a wide circle above his prone body to knock out both centaurs’ legs with relative ease, and as they crashed to the ground around him he pulled himself back upright and began a rageful onslought of deadly hammer blows upon the oncoming forces.
	Centaur after centaur fell before him.  Six, twelve, twenty, almost three dozen had fallen by the time Drenan felt his own breath grow ragged from exhaustion, but more and more continued to assail him from the gates.  A number of cuts formed along his arms from their spears, and a few jabs had gotten past his half-torn chestplate.  He’d never intended to make a full frontal assault, and this was exactly why.  His last breath cursed himself for his foolishness as a dozen centaurs circled him, and in defeat he reluctantly dropped his warhammer.
“Bastards!”  Drenan cursed them as a pair took him by his arms, but a sharp jab from the dull end of a spear to his lower back silenced his anger, albeit only slightly.  He was defenseless, and he knew when to stop fighting, though that didn’t mean he was helpless.  “I did not strike first, you know  I meant no harm.”  The pair of centaurs who had him by his upper arms didn’t acknowledge him as they began to drag him into their encampment.  Drenan looked between the pair, then among the multitude of others among their people.  “You really should just kill me, no?  What good am I to you?”  No answer.  Apparently teasing the truth out of the grunts was of no use.  They were too clever for that.
A much larger hut stood at the settlement’s center, and it was here the centaurs finally dropped the paladin.  “Move,” one of them ordered and aimed another sharp prod at him.
To the centaur’s surprise, Drenan lurched just out of reach of the spear before it could reach him.  “I hear you,” he spat and made his way forward into the hut.  The interior was lit with a ring of candles suspended around the ceiling, and a council of seven centaurs -four male and three female- stood in a ring around the edges.  
The centermost centaur appeared the most heavily-scarred of the bunch with a patch over his left eye.  Even as tall as Drenan was, this centaur stood a head and a half higher than the paladin, and with his arms crossed he stood and glared silently at Drenan.  “You are the one they call ‘Lighthand’, yes?” he uttered in a gravelly voice.
Drenan eyed the centaur curiously.  “Maybe.  Your behavior is unusual.  I’ve never known centaurs to show such mercy.”
“Krigan does not know the term, ‘mercy’,” the one-eyed centaur shot back.  “Krigan only knows war, and in war tools like tauren can be useful.”
The defenseless paladin scoffed in his face.  “I suppose you think we’re beneath you then.”
“Krigan knows you are.  You would not stand before Krigan if you were not,” he hissed angrily.
“Well, ‘Krigan’, I will grant you that I am at your mercy for the moment, but you called me a tool, yes?  What sort of use am I to you?”  Drenan glanced about the other silent centaurs, though his cheeks flushed a bit as he attempted to overlook the bare-chested females.  Modesty was apparently not their concern.
Krigan showed a half-toothed grin to the paladin.  “Krigan has been told you are a disgraced paladin marked for death.  Krigan has had you brought here to exchange you for armaments to fight the Gelkis with.”
Drenan kept his exterior calm, though inside he was screaming with rage.  Had him ‘brought’ there?  He realized he’d been set up, but he wasn’t condemned just yet.  “You still have not confirmed my identity.  I do not think we have met before.  I could tell you yes or no and you would not know the difference.”
“He might not,” an aged voice suddenly rang out from behind the tauren.  “But I would in a heartbeat.”
The paladin did not turn around -he knew better than to move too quickly in his position- but the voice almost instantly clicked in his mind.  “So this is what they did with you,” Drenan stated more than asked.  “You didn’t have enough sense to leave Azeroth behind entirely, it would seem.”  His hands clenched tightly in fists of sheer rage.
The once-Farseer Keldah slowly hobbled past Drenan to look him in the eye, grinning smugly.  “It paid off, did it not?”
