<span style="color: #8000ff">“They are akin to gods, my race was hand crafted by one while the other races on Azeroth grew naturally. It’s not a matter of it being impossible for them, they can, Order doesn’t want my blood mixing with Seraphim blood. She told me that I’m a descendant of a very powerful and dangerous woman, a handcrafted champion of my people. My stubbornness, my strength, everything about me is a result of that cursed blood. If I didn’t have such blood in my veins there may have been a chance. So again, it was nothing more than a stupid fantasy of mine.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #a64dff">“This world is such a fascinating place with so many strange people. I know of Vyre as a prideful and destructive force of nature blamed for Azshara summoning the Legion. But I don’t buy into that. Azshara was a goddess among mortals and I don’t think one woman could have truly stopped her.” </span>She looked at the image of Ashia and grimaced.<span style="color: #a64dff">“She’s pretty ugly… but I guess it’s what’s on the inside that counts. I’m glad she found someone to see her for who she is.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #b3b300">“Huh. Well that’s good then, he definitely came to me to vent very often. It sounded like he hated her guts. I guess they worked it out, good for them.” </span>He nodded and took another sip of his drink.<span style="color: #b3b300">“Salterria and Leeta. Alright, I’ll go bother her later.”</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>