There was a time, not so very long ago, that a young Draeni named Drupadi crawled from the wreckage of the Exodar. She was a cheerful young thing for the most part. She was excited and eager to go leave her mark upon the world.
Through the twisted wreckage of Bloodmyst isle, through the steaming jungles of Stranglethorn, through the burning sands of Tenaris and the frozen wastelands of the north she has fought long and hard to make a name for herself.
She was hoping for something more along the lines of “hero”, but I guess Brewmaster will serve while she works on it.
Besides, it sounds like a good way to have some fun with friends after a hard days adventuring.
After all, why else would one go to the tavern but to hoist a few and laugh with friends?
Then there was another. Diashan, twisted by Arthas, was made into something both more and less than human. Every day she fights her own battles with the voices in her head. The same voices she has heard since her reawakening.
Some say the Ebon Blade wants to hunt down Arthas to avenge what has happened to them. For some that may even be true.
Diashan just wants him the shut the hell up.
She has only found one way to do that so far. It may not make the voices go away, but they become muffled and indistinct. So do the memories of what she has done.
You can find her at one of the back tables of the Booty Bay inn, drinking alone. On a good night no one will get hurt.
She considers her title more a mark of her weakness than a thing to be celebrated.
It would do you well not to remind her that she has earned it, or why.