I am not like my people, this is a fact that has haunted me throughout my life. I may look like your run of the mill Tauren. I was raised in Mulgore, the ancestral home of our people. But, as the spirit seekers always told me in my youth, I had too much of a feral spirit in me. Perhaps it was the Earthmother that gifted me with a rage, perhaps it is something else. Nevertheless, in my 24 years of life I have accomplished many things. I have seen other lands and worlds in far places. I have looked into the void at the edge of nothingness. I have battled countless evil and disgusting creatures. My tales are many, as are my scars.
However, it seems of late that these accomplishments have done little to impress my elders. Granted, I have obtained all the platitudes that I deserve. But, it is my actions in the brewing war against the Alliance that has angered them. You see, I am a druid. I am supposed to remain neutral. I must look after the balance in the universe as opposed to taking sides. That of course has not stopped me from sinking my claws in their soft, pink flesh on many occasions. I despise their stink, their smug grins, and worst of all their glutteral language. It is this hatred that has brought me to a most unsavory situation, and has led me to write this awful tale.
