"What do you mean she has gone out?" Khadgar asked the innkeeper.

Jarel busied himself drying a glass with exaggerated attention to detail. He held it to the light to inspect for any smudges. He breathed on it then rubbed it with the cloth once more. "She wanted to explore the city, Archmage. Who am I to stop her?"

"The man who readily accepted my coin to keep an eye on her!" Khadgar spat back. He growled under his breath and started pacing back and forth, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as if easing tension. Jarel watched him, one brow cocked and a small smirk on his lips. "How long ago did she leave?" Khadgar's irritable tone made Jarel lower the glass.

"About three hours ago, I think," Jarel replied, a little unsettled by the Archmage's ire.

Khadgar grunted again, then spun round and hurried out of the tavern. 

The innkeeper resumed his diligent cleaning. "Tetchy!" he muttered under his breath.

Now, where on Azeroth would she go? Khadgar wondered. The city was vast. It could take some time to locate her. With a whoosh of air and flurry of feathers, he transformed once more into a raven. He scanned the city streets below. Still agitated, he really didn't have time to be fussing over the whereabouts of this woman; this new citizen.

Granted, he had decided to take responsibility for her having found her at Stone Cairn Lake in Elwynn Forest. A green flare had caught his attention while flying back to Stormwind from the Broken Isles. He'd suspected fel energy, but on investigation, discovered the unconscious woman instead. 

Morphing then back into his human form, he'd crouched down beside the body. A strange device he found lying halfway out of the bag that lay next to her  must have been what had grabbed his attention from the air. It was flashing with different coloured images before  suddenly,  it went black. He had tucked it back inside the bag then he turned his attention to the limp form on the grass. 

Gently, he'd brushed long, deep auburn hair aside to reveal a young woman; human by all accounts, yet, alien too. She groaned, scrunching up her face, clearly in discomfort. In an instant, he conjured a portal to Stormwind and lifting the woman as gently as he could, he stepped through.

In the city, he took her to an inn in the Mage Quarter, The Slaughtered Lamb. Its upper rooms had long been closed to travellers but on offering a generous amount of gold, the innkeeper, Jarel, had agreed to open them up for the Archmage and his wounded guest.

Khadgar had reasoned the inn to be a good place to keep the woman's presence quiet. Its basement was a well known training area for warlocks and so, nervous of the spell-weavers and their oft demonic companions, very few clientelle ever entered the place.

The Archmage had sent word to Lukha, a draenei woman who helped him with various errands in the city from time to time and was also the niece of his closest friend. She responded quickly, bringing medicines, bandages and extra ladies clothing to the inn. She arrived with her uncle, Vindicator Ocel, who was visiting her at the time. 

Khadgar instructed Lukha to undress the woman and check for any injuries elsewhere on her person. He took his leave from the room, pacing back and forth outside informing Ocel of how and where he had discovered the woman. His friend offered to go check out the area, just to confirm Khadgar's instincts were correct. They agreed to keep things quiet for the time being. Lukha called the Archmage back in once she had finished her examination of the woman.

"There are no physical signs of injury Archmage, other than those to her forehead, neck and left shoulder. I have given her a mild sedative however, and dressed her in sleeping attire, so she is perfectly respectable for you to visit."

Khadgar nodded his appreciation. "You may return to your family now Lukha, I will watch over her this evening."

"Thank you, Archmage," the draenei bowed in respect.

"The name is Khadgar, Lukha, you know this. Please call me by my name." He smiled as she bowed again and left him to carry out his vigil.

"I will launder her clothes and return in the morning ... Khadgar," she said quietly as she closed the door.

Once he was alone with the injured woman, he pulled up a chair beside her. For a while he simply watched her sleeping. The steadiness of her breathing as the netherweave blanket rose and fell was strangely mesmerising. The soft contours of her face, framed by the long deep auburn hair, was very pleasing to the eye. He chastised himself for taking such notice and crossed his left knee with his right then clasped his hands on his lap.

His eyes would drift over her occasionally and the infrequent sigh or murmur that escaped her lips had him leaning closer. After a few fruitless attempts at gauging her mumblings, he contented himself that she would be asleep the rest of the night at least, and turned his attention to the bag she had had close to her person when he'd found her. He swithered whether to look inside, but perhaps it would provide answers about his mysterious victim, if, indeed that was what she was.

Tentatively, he slid the zip along and looked inside. The rectangular device he had seen at the lake met his searching fingers first. It was slender, made of glass and some kind of thin metal. He almost dropped it when turning it over in his hand, and tightened his grip. The action caused it to burst into life. He was startled at first, but then relaxed as he saw a picture of a beautiful coastline. It was not one he was familiar with. Was it perhaps where she came from, he wondered. Small symbols flashed at the top of the photograph but he had no idea what they meant. Suddenly it vibrated and made a pinging noise. He watched, fascinated, as the picture vanished and the words Low Battery appeared in its place. Then it went black. He shook it, but nothing happened. Carefully he slipped it back into the bag.

Next he found a small tube of sorts. On twisting it, it opened. There was a deep burgundy substance in one section of the tube. It was quite solid, and the colour stained his fingertip when he examined it. He glanced at the woman as she moaned quietly. The tint of her lips were not unlike the substance in the tube. He deduced it was a lip balm of sorts. 

He found a purse and was intrigued by the paper notes inside. Some were blue with a picture of a woman who appeared to be of noble birth. Others, brown in colour, had a youngish looking man on them and the words Bank of Scotland. He smiled. "So is this perhaps where you are from? A place called Scotland?" He searched his impressive memory for place names, but nowhere had he come across this Scotland. There were various coloured cards of some kind slotted in little pockets in the purse's top flap. Coins, he assumed, of varying sizes and metals clinked in another compartment of the purse. 

He found nothing else that could tell him who this woman was, however, and so he replaced all the items and put the bag down next to the small table at the bedside.

Next, he took out his own notebook from a deep pocket within his robes. He started to jot down his findings. Before he knew it, he had written more than he had intended. He glanced over at her as she shifted slightly in her sleep. The way the candlelight highlighted her features inspired him to create a most competent sketch of her as she continued to lie in a peaceful slumber beside him. He paused as she emitted a gentle moan, her lips, plump and moist. He was mesmerised. Shaking his head to eliminate such inappropriate thoughts, he snapped his notebook closed.

Reflecting when he had found her in Elwynn Forest, he thought again of the flash of green which had attracted him in the first instance. Had it just been from the device in her bag? Or was it fel energy, as he had first thought? He had not sensed its potency, as he usually did, certainly. His encounter on The Broken Isles with the orc wizard Gul'dan had left him uneasy and alert to any potential fel presence. But, perhaps it had indeed been utterly benign. He hoped so and also prayed that Ocel would confirm this.

The woman moved again. Very gently he put his hand on her brow. It was warm and clammy. He opened the medicinal balm which Lukha had brought along. Made from a few common herbs and mixed with plant oils, it simply aided in healing cuts and bruises. He smoothed it lightly over the graze on her forehead and her collarbone, then replaced the stopper and the bottle onto the table.

It was fortunate that his services were not in immediate need elsewhere, for the short duration anyhow. This enabled him to keep watch over this intriguing woman. He could rest during the day for a while if he so needed. He grinned. There was no denying the obvious, either. She was beautiful.

That had been over the last two nights however, and now she was awake and on the loose in a city that by all accounts could be dangerous to an outsider. Especially nowadays. The Burning Legion had returned. Sightings all over Azeroth were being reported, but he had found nothing to confirm the stories that they had reached the shores yet. 

The only thing that he had thought suspicious was the bright green flare where he had found Sarah Metcalfe. Ocel, thankfully had laid his fears to rest. As if to further convince himself, he deemed that this young woman was like no demon he had ever encountered before. He sincerely hoped she wasn't anyway.

The harbour fascinated Sarah. She watched as all the dockhands busied themselves about their business and guards kept a close eye on all visitors and workers alike. Cloth, leather, wine merchants, weaponsmiths, alchemists, all manner of traders swept to and fro between the harbour and the city's Trade District. Enormous ships, some bound for Kalimdor and others, Northrend, set sail in an orderly fashion. Oh how she longed to board one of them, but she guessed Khadgar would be a bit pissed at her if she dared.

She did not know a great deal about the man, other than accepting quests from his NPC version in the game. To be honest, he had not seemed as interesting as the likes of night elves...ahh Illidan! But going by the little knowledge she did have, he was a powerful mage of the Kirin Tor and integral to many of the storylines in Azeroth going back to when he had been but an apprentice to the last Guardian, Medhiv. Of one thing she was absolutely certain, it would be in her best interests not to upset the man.

Lukha, while seemingly enjoying showing Sarah the city, was nonetheless a tad uneasy. She gave furtive little glances around them every now and again. Perhaps she's nervous of the consequences of showing an alien like me around the city, Sarah thought. She hoped she wouldn't get into trouble.

The draenei looked like a girl in her late teens perhaps. Stunning to look at, as were all draenei females, she stood a good six inches above Sarah, had the most amazing figure (if you looked past the cloven feet and the tail, which, Sarah had to admit she was rather happy to see in keeping with the draenei in Warcraft). And that accent! It just made her so goddamn attractive.

"So, you got a thing for Khadgar?" Sarah asked her appointed tour guide.

"A thing?" Lukha asked completely innocently.

"Do you fancy him?"

"As what?" Lukha shrugged.

Sarah heaved a sigh. This was not going to be easy. Beautiful, but dumb, she thought. Then again, she had to remind herself that she was the outsider here, not the draenei. Which meant the everyday phrases which Sarah came out with would probably sound alien and make no sense at all. She quickly chided herself for her derogatory assumption of the young beauty. She decided being more forthright was the best policy. "Are you in love with him?"

Lukha stumbled on the cobbles. "Good grief! No!" she answered.

Sarah was genuinely surprised. "You're not? I'm sorry, I thought the way you sighed whenever you spoke of him..."

The draenei unexpectedly laughed. "Sarah Metcalfe! You interpret things very oddly. I have a deep respect for the Archmage. He has helped not only my people, but also my immediate family. He is a great man. And apart from all that ... I am happily married."

Sarah gasped. From her own experience, the words happily and married did not necessarily go together. "No way! You are too young to be settled down."

"Young? You think me young?" the draenei looked flattered.

"I'd say about eighteen, nineteen?"

"Hundred?" Lukha's expression instantly turned to deeply wounded.

"No!" Sarah gasped. "Just eighteen or nineteen years of age."

Lukha recovered from her mortification and giggled, placing her delicate hand over her mouth as she did so. "Sarah Metcalfe, I am 986 years old."

Sarah's mouth fell open.

"And that, in Draenei terms is young." Khadgar suddenly appeared beside them, brushing a vagrant raven's feather from his shoulder.

Sarah stepped back, awestruck. "You really do that?" she gestured to the feather floating to the ground. "You turn into a bird?"

"Yes," he replied, bemused by her question.

"Doesn't it bloody hurt?" It was a genuine question.

Lukha and Khadgar exchanged glances then burst out laughing. Sarah's astonished face verified Khadgar's hopes. This was no demon before him. Their laughter subsided and he turned to Sarah. "You must be hungry by now," he said.

She realised it was coming on three days since she had last eaten. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly. Embarrassed, she clasped her hands to her belly. "Well, now you mention it..." Sarah grinned sheepishly.

With a fond smile, the Archmage gestured for the two women to walk ahead . "I think we will dine at The Golden Keg, a favourite of mine," he said.

"Ah, the Dwarven District. Haven't been there yet." Sarah chirruped.

"Then how do you...?" his brow furrowed.

"Oh, I will tell you all over a glass of wine or ale, whatever is your preference. Hope you are paying by the way." She winked, then seemed utterly embarrassed by her gesture. Clearing her throat, she carried on in a rush. "But, I warn you, you will not believe what I am about to tell you."

"You would be surprised by what I do not believe, Sarah." Khadgar replied with a smirk.

As they climbed the steps from the harbour, she relaxed in her new companions company. The Archmage walked with a steady gait, hands clasped behind his back as he enquired how she was feeling. Conversation was simple enough – very much polite chit-chat. Until, Sarah came out with one of her show-stopper questions. "So, Khadgar, how old are you then?"

The Archmage drew to a halt, momentarily surprised to be asked such a thing. "Younger than I look," he smiled, a little coyly.

"You look quite different certainly compared to your image where I come from, younger I would say." Sarah said. "The hair is about the same, and the raven thingy – well you do that in the game also, but bloody hell! Who would have thought this would all be so close to Warcraft..." Spinning round, arms open, she hadn't realised that both Khadgar and Lukha had stopped walking. She was a good twenty feet ahead when she'd turned round to see them standing staring at her, their faces holding bewildered expressions. She ran back to them. "Thought you said I would be surprised by what you do not believe," she quipped, looking directly at the silver-haired Archmage. "I warned you, Khadgar."

The two Azerothians listened intently to Sarah's story. She skimmed lightly over her failed marriage and subsequent hermit-like lifestyle, mentioning just enough to explain how she became engrossed in a game called World of Warcraft. She explained the different expansions, the quest lines, the races, some of her adventures in Kalimdor, Hyjal, Deepholm, Northrend, Pandaria and Draenor.

She couldn't help but mention Illidan Stormrage, of course, and how she couldn't wait to meet him in-game. She guffawed and said she wouldn't mind meeting him in the flesh neither. The steel eyes regarded her silently, moving away only as he took a sip of wine then requested more from Myrla, the barmaid. Sarah quickly changed the subject, suspecting the Archmage had not approved of her over-enthusiastic fawning over the Betrayer.

Lukha oohed and ahhed as Sarah mentioned Yrel and Prophet Velen; two very important and influential draeneis albeit from a different timeline to the young draenei who sat across from her. It was not hard to work out that the two had been prominent historical figures for the race. Khadgar's expression remained impassive during that part of the discussion, although Sarah thought she saw a flicker of perhaps fond memories cross his face. She spoke avidly about quests to build garrisons and acquire followers.

Finally she described what she remembered of the night she was driving home, before waking up in Stormwind. It was dark by the time she finished talking.

Draining her fifth mug of Dwarven ale, she grinned a little lop-sidedly, at the four faces in front of her. She blinked - slowly. Actually, there were six now - three Lukhas and three Khadgars.

"S -sho," she hiccupped and belched. Her hand wandered up to her mouth but missed its target and flapped about in mid-air. She nibbled her bottom lip before an attack of giggles hit her. "Shorry! Try again Sha- sharah," she said to herself. Another hiccup. "Believe me now, Ars- arsh...erm...Archm –idge? Khad...? Oh my!" The last thing she remembered was the wooden table coming up to meet her face.

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