As soon as I log in, poor Kornum gets up and puts on an expression of determination, mixed with anger. He turns to face me, his God, Creator, his very soul, and his look is one of accusation. And what stings the most, his accusations are not baseless. It wasn't his fault the rule was broken, nevertheless, it was him that paid the price of oblivion for so long. No, I didn't make him play Oblivion all this time - I'm not that sadistic. But I let him alone in that tavern, crying, for something that wasn't really his fault all this time. Time in which a Night Elf Druid, a Worgen Hunter, a Draenei Shaman and a Human Rogue all went from 1 to 85. But when the Human Paladin and Dwarf Warlock hit 40 and 30 respectively, Kornum have had enough. "Now look here, lad!", he said, waving his sausage finger under my nose. "The tree-hugger, the pup, the space goat and the cutthroat I be willing to let slide, but I'll be thrice damned if yer paying more attention