Gentle folk of the Nexus,

I invite, nay, I ask, I plead a moment of your time. Whilst you sit secure in your warm and comfortable stronghold, basking in the glow of your forge, take a moment, if you will, and consider the plight of those less fortunate than yourselves.

Those lacking the support of loving factionmates to welcome them home after a hard day of hunting. Those that hide, alone, afraid, in the dark of a gloomy, desolate warehouse, terrified, hoping against hope that the scratching at the door is simply the wind and not a revenant looking for an easy kill. Those who have been overtaken by the excesses of our modern society and have fallen by the wayside.

I am talking, of course, about the Warseers.