He could feel it.
He could feel its warming presence flowing through his body. He could feel the soothing ways of the light as they washed through his body in powerful yet gentle waves. The Paladin would have preferred to pray in a chapel, but the nearest one was in Tarren Mill and he'd have had to fight through scores of Forsaken and Horde sell-swords who had made a living for years preying on the peaceful farmers of Hillsbrad.
It would not be wise to give the desiccated corpses any sort of provocation. Any sort of justification to commit more atrocities on the grounds that their holdings had been raided by a human.
Daraman finished packing the saddlebags on his mechano-hog and gave one last look at his old apartment before he mounted the bike and roared off down the dusty roads of Durotar. It was somewhat sad to leave it all behind, but he knew he needed to step away from it all, regain some perspective. He wasn't happy where he was, what he was doing, and it was starting to take it's toll on him.
She was always genuinely happy to see the Ranger-Lord.
And maybe that's what worried her.
Sat at his desk eyeing a letter left for him at the sanctum. He read over it many times, and yet he was still full of confusion.
"Madates that don't exsit." he repeated the line to himself many times before it struck him.
"I need to put my knights back in check... and myself... Lord Tiradell is completely right. Knight Moriea's random beatings of citizens for 'information' must be put to an end."
He quickly wrote a response to Tiradell. His pen gliding across the paper. He seals the letter and places it gently into his bag, so he can mail it later. His eyes slowly drift down at a file that was given to him by Gilth. His eyes remain on the file for what seemed like hours... but in reality was only minutes