Father: Lok'tar! Son!
Son: Lok'tar father.
Father: What's wrong? Were you not able to crush the Alliance beneath your mighty blade?
Son: My blade and technique are fine, father; it is my heart.
Father: Your heart, does it ache? Are you ill? Did they strike at your breast? Do you need to see a shaman?
Son: I am not ill, father, yet my heart aches. I fear there is no balm to ease my pain. You see father, I need to tell you something.
Father: Spit it out, then. What is it?
Son: Father, I'm...Wait, what am I?
