I’m Kitzune – Huntress of the Darkspear Tribe!
Since my childhood, I have learned to roam the wilderness, to move silently and to hunt my prey with the utmost precision. My tribe taught me that strength lies not only in the power of weapons, but also in the wisdom to make the right decisions.
Twenty years ago, when I was still young and inexperienced, I ventured out into the wide world. Little did I know that I would witness and be part of events that would shape the history of Azeroth forever. What began as a small journey to find my place in the world and my tribe turned into a long, epic story full of adventures and unforgettable encounters and experiences.
I remember the first time I ventured out of the safety of my village alone. Every step into this new world was filled with curiosity, but also fear. The savage beasts of the jungle and the mysterious ruins that littered the ground sparked a desire in me to understand and experience everything.
But this new world was not only a place of wonder; it was also a place of constant danger. It wasn’t just the battles against wild beasts, but also the constant conflicts between the Horde and the Alliance that shaped my path. With each adventure, my determination grew to perfect my skills as a hunter and to find my place in this vast, ever-changing world.
Let me tell you how these two decades changed my life and the world.
Chapter I: The awakening of the world
It all began with the Call of the Warchief of the Horde, Thrall. At that time, the Alliance and the Horde were facing each other in a fragile balance. So I, a simple huntress, moved to the Valley of Trials, where I began my training as a warrior of the Horde and further sharpened my skills in fighting, hunting, and survival.
For a hunter, a faithful pet is not just a companion, but an essential partner in the wilderness and inbattle. However, choosing the right companion is anything but easy. Each animal has its own strengths and weaknesses, and it takes experience to find the right one. A good hunter understands that a close bond with their animal can mean the difference between victory and death. In the shadows of Ashenvale, I finally found my loyal companion, who would never leave me: a young Moonstalker. I tamed her and named her Neko. She became not only my most loyal beast, but also a friend who accompanied me in all my battles. Her sleek fur and glowing eyes became a symbol of our unbreakable bond. With her at my side, I never felt alone, even on the darkest nights. But the conflicts between the races of Azeroth were unstoppable. I hunted Krokilisk in Barrens, practiced tracking in Mulgore, and survived the poisonous Swamp of Sorrows. The paths were tough, but I grew stronger, my skills as a hunter increased, and with every step I learned more about the world and its many dangers.
I experienced day-long battles in Alterac Valley, where I fought side by side with the Frostwolf Clan against the dwarves until the air was thick with the scent of their blood. Deadly encounters in Stranglethorn, where the jungle itself seemed to breathe. I remember the days I spent in the heat of Tanaris, hunting for rare creatures and Titan artifacts. Unforgettable adventures in the shadow of Blackrockspire shaped my mind. There, in the depths of that hostile fortress, I learned that courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to face it. I was often alone, accompanied only by my faithful cat, but every adventure, every battle taught me more about the world and myself.
The Dragon Lady in the shadowy depths of Onyxia’s Lair, the elemental lords in the scorching fires of the Molten Core, and the Old God C’Thun deep beneath Ahn’Qiraj became witnesses to my journey. They were places that inspired both fear and awe, where the touch of death was ever-present. Yet in the face of these challenges, I also found a new family. Word of my accomplishments spread, and I found a second family among those who had also dedicated themselves to protecting the Horde and Azeroth. We laughed, fought, and cried together, each of us willing to give our lives for the others. Even today, the scars and the treasures we captured during that time remind me of the forces we faced and the unwavering will that made us heroes.
Chapter II: The Dark Pact
When the Dark Portal was opened again, I too ventured into Draenor, into the torn Outlands. The sky was broken, the earth a battlefield where the elements themselves seemed to rage. It was a time of chaos, but in the middle of this devastation I found an unexpected strength within me. Together with other heroes, I took up the fight against Illidan Stormrage, who had declared himself ruler of Outland. Outland was a savage land, full of threats and lost secrets. The floating islands of Nagrand provided a stunning but deadly scenery. The Twisting Nether with its manaforges and eco-domes under an ever-dark sky of purple clouds of pure magical energy. And the deep caverns of the Blade’s Edge Mountains were filled with dark secrets that frightened even the bravest of us. My loyal Moonstalker, who I had by my side, became my most important companion. It was not only her strength, but also her unwavering loyalty that helped me get through those dangerous times.
I remember one very special moment. When, after a long and arduous series of quests, I received my Netherwing Drake mount. Her wings glittered like stardust, and the first flight on her back was like a dream – a moment of peace in the midst of chaos.
Then there were the moments of triumph, like when we broke through the gates of Hellfire Citadel. There, we were met by corrupted fel orc minions of the Burning Legion. Illidan’s words, “You are not prepared!” echoed in my ears as we faced him in the Black Temple. But we were prepared, and I learned that with every darkness comes a weakness. In the end, I saw a glimmer of pain and regret in Illidan’s eyes—further proof that no one is fully trapped by their destiny. This journey to Draenor was not only a battle for survival, but also a lesson in courage and humanity that would shape me forever.
Chapter III: The fall of the Lich King
Then came the call from the frozen north. Arthas, the Lich King, threatened to devour Azeroth. I still shiver at the memory of the bitter cold wind of Northrend, which threatened to even extinguish the fire in our hearts. The battlefields of Northrend were unforgiving, with endless hordes of the Scourge lurking in every dark corner. But I found new friends among the tuskarr, who, despite the threat of the Scourge, retained their warmth and hospitality. Their tales of the frozen depths and ancient myths of Northrend helped me to understand the true nature of this cold land. At the same time, I learned the true horrors of the Scourge – an endless army of undead creatures driven by an endless hunger for death and destruction.
Each region held a mystery of its own: the haunted depths of Zul’Drak, where the once-mighty trolls had fallen to madness; the lost secrets of the titans in the Storm Peaks, whose colossal machines made even the Scourge cower in awe; Sholazar Basin, a tropical jungle in the middle of these icy wastes, created by the titans themselves; or the cruel and brutal rule of the Scourge in the Dragonblight, where even the proud dragons were crushed by Arthas’s will.
The icy majesty of Icecrown Citadel, however, was beyond anything we’d seen. The towering spire, encased in eternal frost, was a monument to evil. The darkness that descended when we faced Arthas was overwhelming. It was my bow that struck down one of his last minions, moments before Tirion Fordring shattered Frostmourne. Arthas’s fall was a victory, but the look of pain on his face—that single moment of humanity, when he realized his own damnation—haunts me. It was a lesson that even in the deepest darkness, a spark of light can still exist, even if it often remains hidden.
But that time was much more than just a victory over evil. It was the most heroic, most glorious time of my life, the highlight of my life as a huntress. Fighting side by side with the greatest heroes of Azeroth, against the most terrifying evil the world has ever seen – that was both an honor and a burden. We knew we were part of something greater, something that would change history forever. And yet, with each passing year, I look back on those days with bittersweet sadness. We were united, strong, and full of hope, and I sometimes wonder if Azeroth will ever see that kind of time again.
Chapter IV: The destruction of the World
Then the Cataclysm struck. Deathwing the Destroyer emerged from the depths and ripped the world apart. My beloved village in Stranglethorn was flooded, and I swore that this dragon would pay the price. The world as we knew and loved it was no more. The changes were everywhere: the earth was rupturing, water was swallowing land masses, and even the sky seemed to have turned dark. In this time of radical change, I was forced to face new challenges. I hunted through the burning deserts of Uldum, where I experienced the power of the titan artifacts up close, and fought not only the hordes of naga in the depths of Vashj’ir, but also the haunting fear of drowning. I also faced the elemental lords in their own domains. Each encounter with the elementals was a struggle against the very forces of nature, and yet each battle also brought a new spark of hope.
Another glimmer of hope in the midst of the chaos was that the Darkspear trolls were finally able to reclaim their homeland, the Echo Isles, and make it the new capital of their tribe. Despite the destruction, this proud tribe rose again and fought to reclaim their ancestral lands. This triumph was not only a restoration of honor, but a powerful statement of resistance against chaos. With renewed resolve, the Darkspear built a thriving capital city—a living symbol of reconstruction and hope even in the darkest of times.
The destruction left in Deathwing’s wake became a part of every journey I took. I remember the horrors of the Twilight’s Hammer, who used the cataclysm to spread their own malevolent agenda. Their dark rituals still ring in my ears, a testament to the fanatical faith they had for the fallen dragon. But the moment we defeated Deathwing over the Maelstrom remains unforgettable. It was a battle unlike any I had ever seen – a chaos of flame, wind, and magic. My heart pounded as I fired the last arrow at the fallen dragon and watched its monstrous body sink into the ocean. But the scars it left on Azeroth remain visible to this day. Every destroyed village, every scorched landscape reminds us how fragile our home is and how important it is to fight to protect this world.
Chapter V: Pandaria’s Secrets
The discovery of Pandaria introduced me to a completely different world. The tranquility of the Jade Forest, the majestic peaks of Kun-Lai Summit—at first, it was a welcome change from the constant wars. Every step through the mist-shrouded paths led to new wonders: ancient temples, hidden valleys, and mysterious statues that told stories of times long past. But beneath the peaceful surface lurked ancient gods and the Sha, manifestations of negativity. I learned from the Pandaren the value of balance, patience and inner peace, even if the Horde and Alliance could not put their conflicts aside.
I spent many days exploring the secrets of the Misty Continent. The hidden history of Emperor Shaohao was a legend that touched me deeply, a testament to sacrifice and courage. The tragic stories of the clans of the Mogu, former lords of these lands, also told of power and decay, and I felt a melancholy reverence for the ruins their rule had left behind. Pandaria was not just a land, but a lesson, a journey into the depths of the past.
But all that was overshadowed when Garrosh Hellscream, with the Heart of the Old God Y’Shaarj, desecrated Pandaria. The tyrant was ruthless, his greed for power immeasurable. The wounds he inflicted on the land were deep and painful. Fighting him pushed me to my limits. My arrow was one of many that flew during the siege of Orgrimmar, when we took down the tyrant. The final moments of that war were a whirlwind of triumph and sorrow. It was a time of great change, but also a time of hope, as Pandaria and the Horde began to recover from the actions of the mad warchief.
Chapter VI: The Warlords of the Iron Horde
The Dark Portal opened yet again, this time to another timeline. After Garrosh Hellscream’s journey through time, he managed to create an alternate version of Draenor where the orc tribes were not corrupted by the Burning Legion, but united under the banner of the Iron Horde. It was bizarre to encounter old legends in a new incarnation: Durotan, Grommash, Ner’zhul. This Draenor was both familiar and different, with familiar faces who had made different choices.
My refuge was my garrison, a fortress in the frozen wasteland of Frostfire Ridge, from which I gathered resources and planned battles. Here we built not only walls, but also alliances that carried us through this difficult time. The garrison was more than just a fortress – it became a symbol of hope.
Every day brought new challenges, whether in the shadow of Hellfire Citadel, where the Iron Horde forged their fearsome machines, or in the mystical forests of Gorgrond, where ancient beasts and untamed nature fought back against the invaders. The steppes of Nagrand were another setting where we joined forces with fearless allies to repel the attacks of the Iron Horde. I remember the first time we encountered the legendary siege engine master, Blackhand. His rage was as great as the fires that ran through his fortress, but our determination was greater. In those battles, we learned that even the strongest opponents can be defeated through strategic cooperation and indomitable will.
Together we defeated the Iron Horde, but not without casualties. I watched as Grommash finally saw the error of his ways and turned on Gul’dan, the one pulling the strings behind the scenes. That moment, when he found the courage to restore his own honor, proved that even the greatest wrongs can be set right by acts of contrition. Draenor taught me that even heroes can stray from the righteous path and that forgiveness is sometimes the greatest strength of all.
Chapter VII: The Attack against the Legion
The Burning Legion returned, and Azeroth itself seemed to crumble. We fought in the Broken Isles, explored Suramar, and searched for the Pillars of Creation. Amidst the horror, we found unexpected allies: the Demon Hunters, Illidan’s chosen ones, who fought with the same demonic energy that permeated them. At first, I viewed them with suspicion, for their demeanor was as intimidating as the foes we faced. But I soon came to recognize their dedication and the price they were willing to pay to save Azeroth. Their unyielding determination inspired me, and together we discovered new weapons, new allies, and formed an alliance that was stronger than our prejudices.
Side by side with the Demon Hunters, we ventured into the darkest depths of the Legion. The horrors of Suramar and the Tomb of Sargeras challenged us like nothing before. I remember the endless battles against hordes of fel beasts and the moments when despair almost overwhelmed us. But we held together, united by a common goal, and found new strength again and again. The battle against Kil’jaeden in the Tomb of Sargeras was a turning point, but the real horror awaited us on Argus. The Legion’s homeworld was a hostile, unforgiving place, steeped in fel magic and darkness. Every battle on Argus felt like a final stand, a desperate attempt to crush the Legion once and for all.
But we triumphed. Sargeras was defeated, though he wounded Azeroth with his last breath. His gargantuan sword, which struck the world in Silithus, was a silent testament to his wrath and power. Each sacrifice, each fallen hero was part of that victory. I often think of the faces of those who gave their lives and the lessons we learned from those times. The return of the titans and the renewal of hope on Azeroth left a deep mark on my heart during that time.
Chapter VIII: The War for Azeroth
The Battle of Lordaeron marked the beginning of a conflict that further divided the Horde and the Alliance. When Sylvanas Windrunner, Warchief of the Horde, abandoned Lordaeron and spread pestilence throughout the ruins, the Horde began to split. The fighting was merciless, and I remember the smoke rising over the Undercity, the former capital of the Forsaken. Saurfang’s doubts about Sylvanas‘ leadership grew, and I too questioned whether this was the right path. My departure for Zandalar was overshadowed by another tragedy: the dishonorable attack on Teldrassil and its destruction. I would have understood the conquering of the World Tree, but not this honorless massacre. The screams of the dying night elves, innocent civilians, still echo in my dreams. It wasn’t just an attack, but a betrayal of the values I once saw in the Horde. The sight of Teldrassil in flames burned into my memory and further fueled my doubts about my allegiance to the Horde. Wandering Zandalar, I searched for a way to make sense of this pain and find purpose in the destruction. The destruction of the Second Golden Temple and the unruly power of its loa became another defining battleground. The true horrors, however, came with the Battle of Dazar’alor, when the Alliance and the Horde clashed once more. In the midst of it all, I had to decide where my loyalties truly lay. Sylvanas‘ words still echo in my mind: “All will serve.” But not everyone was willing to go down that path, and Saurfang’s sacrifice led to a new chapter for the Horde.
Chapter IX: Not My Horde Anymore
Sylvanas‘ dishonorable behavior, combined with Saurfang’s decision to ally with the Horde’s old enemies – the Alliance – deeply shattered my faith in the future of the Horde. It wasn’t just a matter of politics or power, but of honor, which I had always associated with the Horde. When I saw his seemingly pointless sacrifice, I realized that, if I was honest with myself, for a long time this was no longer my Horde. A Horde that once stood for honor and loyalty had become something strange. An entity that had betrayed its own core values and in which I could no longer find myself.
And so I left the Horde and cut all ties with it. From then on, I became an independent mercenary who stayed out of the political intrigues – whether Horde, Alliance or both. Occasionally, I took on various jobs, such as protecting villagers from orc or gnome marauders. With the gold I earned, I built a hut on the beach in Stranglethorn, a place where I could retreat from the constant wars and conflicts.
This escape allowed me to avoid the Shadowlands that Sylvana plunged us into. I also stayed away from the conflicts caused by the return of the Dragon Aspects. In my quiet hut, accompanied by the sound of the waves and the call of exotic birds, I began to see the world with different eyes, but I still regularly venture out into the vastness of Azeroth. Especially to keep the memories of the ancient heroic and honorable times alive. Each journey is like a return to the beginning, a moment to visit old friends, rediscover forgotten places, and refresh memories of old, long-forgotten adventures. These explorations remind me of who I was and how far I’ve come. Far from the conflicts, I’ve learned that true freedom lies in remaining true to oneself, even when the world around you is in chaos.
Chapter X: The End of the World
Now I sit here on the shores of Stranglethorn, watching the hypnotic flicker of the campfire’s flames. Twenty years have passed, and yet the scars and triumphs of that time carry more meaning than I could ever put into words. Every war, every friendship, every sacrifice – they have shaped me, made me the huntress I am today.
I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I feel the heartbeat of Azeroth, the titan within this world, growing stronger every day. It is an omen that warns us that her awakening and with it the final end of this world is imminent. And with it, the end of everything we have fought so hard for over the last 20 years.
But I am not ready for such an end! Because I know that my journey is far from over!
I will continue to face the challenges of the Warcraft art of war – well beyond the world of Azeroth.
My bow is prepared, Neko is sitting watchfully with sharp claws beside me, and my eyes are fixed firmly on the dancing flames and directed towards the future and possible new worlds…
The Epilogue: 20 Years of World of Warcraft
I thought long and hard about how I could best celebrate the 20th anniversary of “World of Warcraft”.
So I came up with the idea of telling the lore of World of Warcraft and my personal in-game history in the form of an epic short story. Strictly speaking, as a first-person narrative, from the perspective of my oldest main character – the troll huntress Kitzune – and her trusted companion, the moonstalker Neko, whose loyalty and strength have accompanied me throughout my years of playing WoW. I wanted to not only highlight the epic story and lore elements of the game and its expansions, but also capture my own personal experiences, thoughts and opinions.
- Which is the best expansion and why this time represents the highlight of the game for me.
- Why I stopped playing Battle for Azeroth.
- My occasional returns to Classic.
- My thoughts on the future of World of Warcraft.
All told from the perspective of a troll huntress who (still) believes with all her heart in the ideals of the Old Horde – Thrall’s Horde.
Her journey through Azeroth is not only a chronicle of the great events and epic battles, but also a personal tribute to 20 years of World of Warcraft. And how a game became part of my life.
In this sense, also from me – the Gamer:
FOR HONOUR !!
FOR THRALL !!
FOR THE HORDE !!
McHenry's Lair 
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