"Yes," Wrathion accepts. A moment of hesitation, then: "although I'm not certain I'd term all of them warlords. The minutiae of their alliances, their agreements, is something I couldn't speak to."

Another pause, a hint of wariness, then he blinks it from his expression into an even mask of indifference.

"For one thing, the last one we encountered was a child. He had some control over his powers, but not enough to stop things when he wanted."

How much of what the child said was truly a lie? He couldn't say, but it hadn't seemed as if he wanted to make people sick. That was just an... unfortunate side effect of his presence, of his state -- something perhaps done to him willing or unwilling. Only the child or the White Wanderer could tell them that.