You'd heard a story about a paladin, once upon a time, who had rushed into battle blindly, without caring what the odds are. What was his name again? Eh, didn't matter, you were sure the story ended well. You dash into the barracks as fast as you can, hoping beyond hope that the towering orcs don't notice this little speck zipping inside.
Amazingly enough, you haven't been noticed! You quickly duck behind a pair of discarded boots, just beneath one of the hammocks above that serve as cots for the orc grunts. You take stock of the situation and assess your options.
You could try to find your way up to one of the slumbering orcs. Of course, doing so runs the very high risk of being spotted and a most likely swift swat.
There's also a part of you that realizes that this would be a prime opportunity to get some intel. Sure, Vol'jin's hasn't been running rampant over the world like Garrosh did but what HAS he been doing? Maybe rummaging around in one of the guard's footlockers would turn something up.
Alternatively, how long has it been since you've eaten? There's a small table in the corner, and it looks like you could get your hands on some food. Leftovers, probably, but it's better than nothing.
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