Memoirs of a Moonkin are a collection of peoms and songs written by Verdauga during the war against the Burning Legion and just prior to the Northrend expeditions. Some were written to ease his homesickness, some are laments and some are old, traditional rhymes passed down from his ancestors.

Verdauga's Song Edit

S is for the summer sun shining on the lake

T is for the Tauren folk

O if for the old dirt road

N is for the peaceful night

E is for the Earth Mother!

T is for the tasty treats found growing on the tall pine trees

A is for the apples that are cooked for us to eat

L is for the lake in which the young ones learn to swim

O is for the only land for me and

N is for never ever wanting to leave!

The BarrensEdit

There was a land of gold and red, and dotted through were pools of green, and dusty clouds flew overhead and there was beauty there unseen.

And every night the crickets sang, and kodo nestled in dry grass, the stars would glisten bright like fangs, peace and serenity would come to pass.

And with the coming of the dawn a bright and gleaming song did sing, the beasts of clear and ringing voice sang "with your coming warmth takes wing!"

There was a land of red and gold, with sun baked plains for many a mile, and of this land my tale has told, wander there and stay awhile.

Those lands are the golden Barrens of Kalimdor, a land of rugged beauty bordered by a gentle shore.

A Druid! Edit

His face was ablaze with light! The sun was at his back! He spoke in strange and unfamiliar tongue! Upon his back a stave of wood and gold.. and upon his shoulders arms of bark and leaf. His company was a great beast, a deep benevolence in its eyes. Who is this stranger? What is his business here? A Druid! A Druid from Moonglade fair! The land blooms in his wake, and he will wander bound to it.


Green, the colour of nature.

It lives amongst the verdant plains and dense, lush forests.

It whispers on the hilltops as wind through high grass.

Delicate and vibrant stems of stalks and grass-blades, so nourished with energy and life.

A healthy colour,

green takes us back to feral roots,

and binds us once again to a primitive nature,

nurtured by bestial desires.

Green breaks through,

nature is unstoppable.

It's arm reaches us anywhere and we in turn crave it.

Verdauga's Lament Edit

What are these lands? Why do they cry? What are these magnificent beasts that fly? Why is the sound of rivers song? Where in its history did it go wrong? Why do we hear no spring call? Is it too late to prevent a fall? Away from home and yet so near.. for all our souls we are yet to fear. Grant me please a safe clear mind, leave my troubles far behind.. make me simple and in dream, away away to lands that gleam, that gleam on forgotten shore... and in my slumber dream not of lore. Why do we weep for ages past? When things are done and gone so fast! Why too do we fear of that to come? When we face a risk of present undone. Can not we live a humble life, on farm with calves and loving wife. Why oh why does the little one cry and how yes how does he sing. And when oh when shall we find a den for orphan bears to bring.

Winter Veil Song Edit

Hoofsteps on fresh crackling snow, dew drops glistening on pine tree, from north comes wind in chilling flow, the land becomes fresh, new and free.

Merry faced calves come running in delight, a song is sung for all to hear "winter comes tonight!" strider, kodo, hawk and cougar are laid out to eat, and perhaps afterwards if calves are good some berry pie, a treat!

Trees are talking excitingly of that which is to come, a new age they whisper, and new beginnings have begun!

A time of unity and a time for joy, the Elders kiss the cheeks of every girl and boy!

Pray with me now for those we seldom see, in winter's song and season we gather and rejoice, a time of peace and time to oppertunity, in silence we listen to the coming seasons voice!

Life Edit

This document was not written by Verdauga, but by Threm, when he still lived. He gave it to Verdauga before he passed away.

Seven-Branched Sword

It is said that this sacred sword represents life itself.

Though the branches seems to be infinite, the choices limitless...

...Like our destinies, the sword comes to but one end. One merciless point.

And when the silver cord, the fragile thread that binds us to this world, is severed...

...the illusion is revealed and the implacability of fate is finally laid bare...

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