Tyrk: Theramore

I hardly know where to start.  I mean, I've got nothing against the fight.  I understand the rush, the thrill.  That's what Feral is, man.  I get it.

And yet, I would rather . . .

Well, there was a time when I would rather have kicked back and relaxed with anyone ... Night Elf, Tauren, Alliance, Horde, anyone.  Have a few drinks, tell some stories, dance.  Revel in the joys of life, man.  Feral is that too.  Maybe it's just that, you know, back when we were immortal war was one of the few ways we ever left this world.  Averting war was important.  That may seem like an absurd statement if you read the history books, but it's just . . . well, peaceful times are the tranquil woodlands.  As you walk through your own neck of the woods you don't see someone else's forest in the distance.  But the wars?  Those are the mountains jutting out above the trees.  Those are easy to see.  There really is something majestic about the mountains, but I'd rather hang out in the woods, man.  Sing with the birds, dance with the bears, you know?

Maybe that's why we've been so reticent to react to Orcish incursions in Ashenvale.  In spite of Silverwind Refuge, Raynewood Retreat, Astranaar, Maestra's Post.  We fight there, but are reluctant to expand the fight beyond simple defense.  As if we're hoping the Horde will just give up and leave.

Theramore dispells that delusion.

We need to push every last Horde out of Ashenvale, take the fight to the very walls of Orgrimmar and pull them down around Hellscream's ears.  Leave him dead under the rubble.