<strong>With Rommus in the Lower City hospice</strong><br/><br/>As the orc and draenei made for the exit, Emrick lingered by his friend a bit longer.<br/><br/>"You'll be alright here, Rommus?"<br/><br/>The dwarf scratched underneath the bandage, his free hand resting atop the pile of scrolls and samples.  "I'll be fine.  And your findings too, don't ye worry about us."<br/><br/>Emrick nodded, but Rommus grabbed his wrist before he could leave, his expression dark.  "Forget what I said earlier, lad.  That orc makes me nervous.  Watch yer back out there.  If that warlock makes a move against ye, forget the paladin and get out of there.  She can handle 'erself."<br/><br/>The human nodded slowly, mulling over his friend's advice.  "I'll...  Sure thing, Rommus.  Keep safe."<br/><br/>With that, Emrick grabbed Talia's reins and made for the hospice's exit.  It seemed even more crowded than before, and he had some difficulty navigating the masses of people, what with his mare.  The mage finally made it outside though, just in time to see Duran finish summoning a felsteed.  To say the surrounding crowds reacted negatively would be an understatement.  There were plenty of gasps, a shriek or two, and the mass of refugees and merchants immediately pushed away, forming a large open area around the orc.  A lone vindicator struggled to return the crowd to normality, casting a stony glance at the warlock.  Controlled demons, while not illegal, were feared and hated in Shattrath, and with good reason.<br/><br/>Emrick mounted Talia and followed the orc and the paladin... at a distance.  Rommus' warning was still fresh in his mind, and the mage was cautious about being seen accompanying Duran in the city.  Once outside the walls of Shattrath though, Emrick dug in his heels and urged Talia to catch up, reaching the pair just as the orc began delving into the details of the raids.  The mage listened intently, now alert for any suspicious comments.  Despite what Rommus said, he didn't notice anything malicious.  If not for the orc's naturally gruff voice, it could have been just like listening to his father, describing the battles of the Second War to him.<em>He seems genuine enough,</em>Emrick thought to himself.<em>Maybe I could just rest and let my guard down f--</em><br/><br/><em>No!</em>Emrick felt ashamed that he had even considered the idea.  Rommus was right: there was something wrong with this orc.  And it wasn't just his use of fel magic.  He'd have to keep his guard up around Duran, which also meant not acting suspiciously himself.  If that meant talking with the orc and acting like everything was normal - if that meant swallowing his pride as well - so be it.<br/><br/>"I'll leave the strategy to you," the mage said, his youthful voice filled with genuine sounding respect.  "Though, for what it's worth, I think we should fight them somewhere where they can't use their flying mounts."<br/><br/>He looked sidelong at the draenei, suddenly realizing he didn't know her name, or vice versa.  "My name is Emrick Stone, of Dalaran, by the way.  I don't believe I heard yours, though," he said, the second part of his statement directed at the paladin.