So when given the task of watching over that worgen's boy, the medic did the most sensible thing any self-respecting man did: enlist the boy into the Argent Crusade and forget about him for the rest of the year. Surely, the medic reasoned to himself, the knights of the Crusade will take good care of the child. They will raise him into a fine paladin, clean from all the bigotry and petty squabbles of factions. Or perhaps, spend the rest of his young life as a pageboy, forever damned to call upon Valiants and Champions into combat.
More importantly, the medic no longer had to worry about explaining to his wife why all of the sudden, he had a boy care for.
"...wouldn't have gone over so well," the medic concluded to himself as he trudged down the snowbanks of the tournament grounds. Despite the supposed end of the Lich King (though anyone with Scourge ties would say otherwise), the grounds still stood. There was clean up to be done, many remaining Scourge to be slain and many 'unemployed' Scourge to be escorted out of their misery. The grounds themselves still hosted many duels - with many fledging Crusaders still make the pilgrimage to these lands in hopes of proving themselves worthy of greater tasks. Between duel mishaps and recon injuries, the medic was kept very busy. Occasionally, he would see Liam watch the fight with the other pageboys. At other times the boy could be seen learning how to ride a pony. All this he took in and shrugged off: as long as the child was alive and seemingly healthy-looking, it did not matter what he was up to.
"What a horrible gnome, to have abandoned the child here," the Forsaken could be heard talking to his companions over a roaring bonfire, "one would almost think he didn't care."
And so it was, one day the boy disappeared from sight, and the medic was worried.
"Oh dear, I hope he wasn't eaten by a stray frost wyrm," he mumbled to himself. It was only then that the gnome in dark clothing returned, seeking answers, only to find that there was one. The boy was gone! Nowhere to be seen.
"I assure you he wasn't eaten by a frost wyrm," the paladin in duty replied with a great big frown on his face - which was nothing compared to the frown the gnome had.
"I entrusted him to the Crusade in good faith!" Bam squawked, making a great show of his short arms and large, bushy beard, "if he was truly eaten by a frost wyrm, I will have you find his remains in its DUNG!"
"But...frost wyrms...don't eat..." the paladin replied very slowly, but the gnome had already stomped out of the tent. With great fury and frustration, Bam turned his anger to the only recipient available.
"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" the gnome declared, whirling around and pointing a finger at Pinchy. Orange antennas drooped from all corners as the crawdad scuttled off, crying and taking the brunt of the verbal punishment with him.