[Not far from the Inn, by the fountain is one newly arrived, and rather bewildered Tirion Fordring. The Ashbringer is in the paladin's hand as he looks around, trying to figure out just where he is. This isn't Crusader's Pinnacle. It's not even close to being Icecrown. Maaaaybe it could possibly pass as Grizzly Hills or Howling Fjord in a pinch,
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Greetings, Highlord.
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Greetings, Death Knight. I don't suppose you could tell me just where I am?
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[A roll of Krenyn's shoulders expresses a brief shrug. Polite and respectful as he is, the elf - probably understandably so - keeps his distance. Paladins, especially ones of Tirion's calibur, weren't the most comforting of feelings. No offense.]
You'll find out as much as anyone knows, in time. There is, as yet, no way to leave.
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Undoubtedly the Bronze Flight must have their reasons, but this is still quite troubling.
You have my thanks.
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You're welcome, Highlord.
[And a pause, just as he starts to move off. His next words are as dry in tone as they are filled with the spectral echo.]
Troubling is an understatement. Be careful.
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Thank you. I will.
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