If it were anyone else, that kind of overly dramatic speech might have fallen flat. But in spite of her initial wariness toward him and his strangeness, Vas feels the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. It's just the talk of vengeance, she tells herself. Just inconvenient sympathy for someone who spilled blood in equal measure for their slain kinsmen. For someone who took the fight into their own hands instead of running.

But just for a moment, the weight of leading their inexperienced fellow Redsworn feels as light as a feather. If she thought he spoke like a Vindicator before, she doesn't know what he sounds like now. No- she knows exactly what. A hero, something that the Draenei have not had in a very, very long time.

She takes his hand and pulls herself to her feet, but even looking down at him, he still seems somehow larger than himself. Unreal, even if not entirely all there in the head. Or maybe that's how a hero needs to be.

"Yes. Naaru let it be so."