A cloaked figure laid a soft hand on the body of the dead tauren. Drop after drop of clear water fell from the depths

of the figure’s hood as it stood in the middle of the destruction. Canvases laid in shreds where they had been

ripped by the swords of the enemy while others burned, leaving behind the putrid stench of animal skin.

Slowly, the concealed figure raised itself from the ground. She wore no shoes, and there were hooves where one

might place feet. A staff found itself in a holster across the figure’s back – circular and adorned with colorful

feathers. It lit with a bright white light as the figure removed the staff from the hostler, slamming its tipped end into

the ground. As the figure pulled back the hood, it revealed the face of a young tauren woman. While young, the

woman’s gaze as she witnessed the damage was quite harsh and filled with age. Thoughts ran through her mind

as she heard the last shrieks of terror from the spirits around her. She first heard the voice of a male tauren:

“No, stay with the others. Escort them north, away from the fighting. I will stay here with the wyverns and cover your escape. Go!”

She could hear the clattering of metal as weapons were swung together.

“…wait, it is over? I’ve been run through… Ah. Of course. I understand now. I am expected elsewhere…”

The voice shifted to that of a female, which shook in terror.

“Alliance – they’ve surrounded the camp! What are they doing here? Why are they attacking Taurajo? Get the children – run! RUN!”

Quickly, the voices died off as the tauren woman was distracted. A few human criminals seemed to have been left

behind in the aftermath of the battle. Her brow furrowed, and her eyes lit with rage as her hands lit with the Holy

magic of An’she. She hobbled forward within range of them, her eyes seeming to glow as bright and as furious as

the light she held in her palms. The criminals, spying her presence, began to run, but she managed to capture

one of them in the blast. Waves of holy fire rained down from the heavens, incinerating the target and leaving

nothing more than smoldering ashes and blackened bones. Satisfied for the moment, the woman returned to the

staff she placed in the ground and lifted it high above her head.

“Let it be known that anyone who slaughters the innocent shall feel the wrath of the Earthmother. So say I, Auun

Brighthoof.”