Dear Mythoid,
You may or may not have heard of me before. If you have, then do not be alarmed, you have nothing to fear from me. If you have not ever heard of me, I am dully surprised. It seems that you are truly not connected. If you have an inkling of the knowledge that your race is regarded for, then you know of the White Pawn. If not, then I have no reason to mail this to you. It seems that I am almost always surrounded by idiots. Apologies, my focus is getting out of hand.
I have failed in my duty. Others may intercept this letter, so our communications must be kept to a limit. I will arrange a meeting between us so that we can discuss this plainly. Mythoid, your race evolves slowly and you are young. Much of what I tell you will not be understood. However much I doubt you, however, you are a Night Elf. You must hear me and not let impatience cloud your reasoning. My advanced years give me a maturity that you can only hope to achieve.
I am a draenei shaman, balancing nature and the elements for the benefit of all the Light's creatures. Two weeks ago, I interrupted my regular forays into the dungeons of Northrend. I went to the Borean Tundra and sought out refuge in an inn. After a restless night full of nightmares, I went downstairs to find the bartender being questioned by a courier. Once the courier had seen me, he rushed over and handed me a letter. The letter had the royal symbol of the Alliance on it. At once, I knew I was being called by one of the royals of Stormwind. I reasoned that I was being called to Stormwind because of my work avenging the Alliance losses to the Lich King. I set off immediately on my hippogriff. Within a couple of days I arrived at the palace. I was requested to stay in my rooms until I could be attended to. As ever, I followed my orders and waited.
I believe I have written too much in this letter, for night falls upon my window. Look past my cryptic message that I might tell you of what has befallen me. Farewell, and may the wind be at your back.
-Shaeris