Fulguralis's eyes fluttered open. White walls reflected white floors mirroring a white ceiling. Light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The warlock squinted and sat up.
Well, he was already sitting. This must be a dream. He last remembered laying down, closing his eyes... and then this. It didn't feel like a dream, though. It felt real. Then again, dreams often did.
A shuffle behind him set his back rigid. Someone else was in the room. He spun in a whirl of robes, pulling out his sword.
For a moment, he just stood there. His blade went from a fiery red, to dusky purple, back to red again. All at once, Fulguralis noted the absence of sound. Apart from the rustle of clothing and his own breathing, it was silent.
"I mean you no harm." The voice was calm, soothing even, and Fulguralis felt something brush his mind.
He turned slowly. There, to his right, just out of sword's reach, was another robed man. Except this man's robes were somehow different than what Fulguralis was used to. It wasn't that they were all that special - drab brown on brown - they just seemed to be fashioned out of a different kind of cloth. As a tailor, Fulguralis expected to recognize it, so it bothered him when he didn't.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Ful'guralis, Jedi Consular of the Galactic Republic," the strange man announced.
The warlock narrowed his eyes. "Are you an orc?"
The man seemed puzzled by the question. "What is this... orc?"
"You have green skin." Fulguralis was studying the man's mouth. His teeth seemed decidedly... un-orcish. And there were patterns of squares tattooed under his eyes.
The man smiled. "I am Mirialan. Does my alien visage unnerve you?"
"You're not as ugly as an orc." Fulguralis shrugged.
"What is your name?" the Jedi asked.
"Fulguralis," the warlock replied. Remembering the man's titles, he added, "Warlock of the Alliance and, um, Dominator of Demons."
"Then we share a name, how strange."
"Not really. People have the same name all the time."
"Do you spell yours with an apostrophe?"
"Who uses those in a name?"
There didn't seem to be an answer for that. Instead, the Jedi's eyes went to the drawn sword.
"Interesting vibroblade. Did you craft it yourself?"
"My sword? No. Found it on a dead guy, then enchanted it."
The warlock shook his head. Was this guy dense? "Yes. See the colors? Represents additional power. Enchanted."
"Sort of like a focusing crystal, then."
"Whatever you say, bud."
A subtle swish of the robe revealed metal glinting at the Jedi's waist. It was a cylindrical device, unlike anything the warlock had seen before. What's more, it didn't appear sharpened anywhere.
"Is that your wand?" Fulguralis asked. There were some crazy wands out in Azeroth.
Ful'guralis pulled out the cylinder. "This?" When the warlock nodded, he explained. "A wand? No. It is my lightsaber."
"Light Saber," the warlock repeated. "So you're paladin, then?"
"A soldier of the Light."
"Well, I try to serve the light side of the Force, yes."
"The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together."
"So, like, the Sunwell?"
The two men stared at each other across the featureless room. Though they spoke the same tongue, they were not communicating very easily. It was starting to seem like they came from two very different (yet somehow similar) worlds.
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