Rock out with your Druid out
The wind swept across the plains of Kalimdor, through the steamy vales of Stranglethorn, and swirled around the deep and secret glade of the Moon. The wind shivered and sighed, bearing with it tidings most dire, of opression, of lies.
The Druids, those ancient defenders of the natural order, took heed of the wind’s outrage. Elven and Tauren hearts alike beating as one in objection.
Out upon the plains of Mulgore a certain druid, returned home for respite raised her head and scented the breeze. Her catlike senses and ancient druidic knowledge telling her the tale and all she needed to know.
Without another thought she stood, defiantly amid the sweet tossing grasses and raised her head high to roar: