<Another story involving Stepanos when he was in Pandaria. A snipit of his history that led to where he is today:
From Darkness: Light >
The Iron Horde. It was not the True fight, Light vanquishing Darkness, but it was a struggle worthy of the Guardians efforts, and Lord Stepanos DelaCroix was honoured to have been given the opportunity to lead them on Draenor.
Redemption. Reformation. Refocus. All of this had occurred once his time at the Tian Monastery had ended. The lure of drink no longer called, the guilt of past failure no longer beckoned, and the burning demonic image of Voidblade was a now weak, distant memory.
The Guardians had arisen from the ashes of destruction, reforming on a foreign world and building a Garrison worthy of the Righteous Light itself.
"Lord High Commander!" a Guardian said as he marched into the main hall of Light's Flame. It was bustling with activity now that the final expansion had occurred. He had wondered at the decision to mix the banqueting hall with the war room, but the chief architect had said it was best to maximize space by making it multi-purpose. Who was he to argue with experts.
"Your orders from Alliance High Command, sir." The armoured man saluted, fist to chest where the Flame of the Righteous Light was emblazoned, and handed his commander the leather satchel containing the orders. "They request immediate assistance with a Warsong village in Nagrand."
"Immediate?" Stepanos said, lifting an eyebrow as the opened the satchel and made his way toward the large map attached to a table at one end of the room. "That sounds ominous." He quickly read the orders, noting that they were clear and concise as to the requirements, then ran his finger along the map until he found the village.
"There," he said, tapping the a location along the edge of a river in western Nagrand. He knew the area well, having explored it as he built his forces. The creatures in that area were huge, and could smash a mounted Guardian with one swing of a tail. And that did not take into account the well-equipped and battle-hardened Orcs they were ordered to engage. Tricky. Very tricky.
"Send a full detachment of Guardians to the Telaar Outpost," he said, turning to face the gathering of Guardian Commanders who had gathered around the planning table while he talked. "Healers and caster as well. Guardian Jonah?"
"Sir?!"
"The command is yours," Stepanos said, handing the details of the operation to Jonah, and earning a fist to Light salute in return. The other Guardians grinned, as they knew Jonah had worked hard to earn the opportunity. "Gather your men, and be prepared to depart within two hours." He looked at the gathered soldiers. "Any questions? Good. May the White Light of Righteousness guide your blades! Dismissed."
As the gathering dispersed, filling the room with discussions of orc teeth and who would gain the most glory, one robed Guardian remained behind. A Priest that had recently come to Light's Flame from Stormwind, seeking to join the Guardians and help with the Reformation.
"Lord High Commander?" the man said, his voice quiet and pious. "Might I have a word?" Stepanos turned.
"Of course, Brother Bailey," he said, smiling at the smaller-statured man. "How can I assist?" The man looked around the room, bit his lip and wriggled his hands. Nervous, Stepanos thought. What's this about? Bailey waited until the Guardians had left the hall, leaving only the strategists and planners gathered around the table - out of earshot.
"Lord High Commander," he said quietly. "I just received word from Stormwind that a dark plague has descended upon the city. At first, it was thought to be an Elven disease, as that was who it afflicted. Yet now... Now, it has infected others."
Stepanos nodded, letting the man continue with the explanation. Why he felt the need to bring it his attention was not yet discernable, but perhaps Brother Bailey would come to the point eventually.
"The victims don't just get sick," Bailey said. "They turn into some sort of wretched night creatures, crawling around the grounds, crying out for mana and trying to suck it from those who utilize the nether for magical purposes."
"Light!" Stepanos said. "And they think a plague is causing this? It sounds more like a curse of Darkness than a disease." The man nodded.
"Call it what you will, Lord High Commander," he said. "But the effects are certainly real. And more to the point, there has been no cure found."
"And this... plague, if you will," Stepanos said. "It has effected everyone in the city?" Brother Bailey shook his head.
"No, Lord High Commander," he said. "It's apparently been contained; for the moment at least. But the victims all have one thing in common: magic. They all use, or have inherent racial traits that tie directly into the nether. Or magic, as most tend to call it."
Not too long ago, Stepanos would have considered what was now happening to those who used magic as justice, that it was Light's Retribution for straying away from Truth and dabbling in Darkness. Because of his time with the Tian Monks, he now knew otherwise, and had therefore created the Reformation - altering the Tenets to accept that the Light worked in many manners. It mattered not what Light was called, like Magic, or who provided it to the people, like Elune.
What mattered most was how it was utilized, and to what purpose.
The fact was, that magic-using people from Stormwind were being transformed into monsters. That smelled of Shadow - therefore grabbing his attention like the ringing of a Pandarian Monastic Bell. Darkness was moving against the Light, and it's Shadow agents had attacked a city he loved. He still held the Cathedral in disgust, seeing them as more political than patrons of the Light, but this had nothing to do with politics.
It was a True Fight.
"Brother Bailey," Stepanos said, his voice firm and committed. "You were right to bring this to my attention. You will accompany me to Stormwind, as I plan to look into this personally." Brother Bailey saluted, fist to chest - matching Stepanos's resolution.
"Thank you, Lord High Commander," he said. "I will gather my gear at once."
"Excellent," Stepanos said. "I will meet you at the tower to Ashran once I transfer Command of the garrison." He looked past Bailey to a young boy standing against the wall, and motioned him forward. His page, waiting anxiously for orders that he knew would be coming.
"Son? Please have Stout brought from the stables. We're taking a trip to Stormwind."