The Witherer's Records

This was a wondrous continent, unlike any place I had ever visited. Pandaren footprints covered Pandaria; they were the most common race here, yet they were also what fascinated me most. They gave me a sense of novelty, and learning about them temporarily made me forget the conflicts brewing across Azeroth's other continents. I was shocked that this could happen to me. Whenever I went without sleep, I used vast amounts of time to devise chilling plans and ensure their precise execution. Yet now, a race unknown to the world had washed away thoughts that had gradually taken shape in my mind over many years.

This was no coincidence!

I had observed them for quite some time. Overall, they were somewhat... difficult to put into words. Compared to Dwarves, their love of alcohol was nearly frenzied; compared to Night Elves, they also knew how to cherish nature. Yet they were utterly unlike the two races belonging to the Alliance. More precisely, they were truly unique.

Their uniqueness lay in how clean this race was. I could not find a more fitting word to describe them. Every other race in Azeroth had, to some extent, a dark history. Azshara, queen of the Elves; the Dwarves' civil wars; the Tauren's Terror Totem; Kel'Thuzad among humans; and then there were the Orcs and Dragons... I did not wish to mock them further.

The Pandaren's history rivaled that of the Night Elves, which greatly surprised me. I had once seen a Pandaren during the War of the Ancients. Though it had only been a brief encounter, and that race had not left a deep impression on me, I had assumed they were rare and had always been so. Only after arriving on this continent did I realize my mistake.

Learning about them was difficult.