Ringo Flinthammer turned his face, spitting out the sulfurous dust that made up the ground here in the Firelands.
“Elves are full o’ crap, ye see,” he muttered, reaching out and thumping the thick neck of his bear, Frostmaw. “After th’ Battle fer Mount Hyjal, the night elves were no longer immortal and they knew they had to make changes. They started trainin’ women druids an’ th’ Druids o’ the Claw and the Druids o’ the Talon both taught other druids their secrets. And where’ver th’ Druids o’ the Lookin’ Like a Bloody Tree were hidin’, they taught th’ others their tricks, too.
