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Light.  .  .  .  .  bright light.  .  .  .  but not the harsh blinding light that makes you squint but rather a refreshing holy light.   Arator looked up from his position kneeling on the marble floor of the cathedral and glanced through the windows as the sun rose up over stormwind.   It was good to be home.   Many springs had passed since he  last stood in this hall, this place of justice and peace.   The Paladin stood and turned pacing the great hall and stepping into the courtyard.   He sniffed the fresh morning air and glanced across the brick pavement as a cloaked figure drew close.   The figure was short and stout, defiantly that of a dwarf he thought as it drew closer.   Throwing back his hood the dwarf burst into a loud laugh Arator! my old friend.  .  .  it is too long since I have cast eyes upon your face! Grimgor how good to see you.   This particular dwarf and he had seen many great battles together and there was no other living creature to which he would more readily trust his life.  How is it that you have found me here friend, for I told no one as of yet of my return, asked Arator. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .