I hunger. I crave the bloodsoaked combat that drives my senses to a
darker place in the realm.
I thirst. I wish to quench the madness that claws at my very soul, the
beastial insanity thats brings my own claws into existence.
Finally, I feed my hunger with deadly strikes into my enemie's gut... I
drink my thirst away on the blood that pours freely from the wound.
I become satiated with my ravenous behavior.
My claws disappear into the void of my flesh, and I'm left breathless
and saddened by what I've done.
I want. I desire for the redemption of my malice and angst, which has
taken a life.
I need. I must have companionship with my guild, who care more for me
with understanding.
I run to my grove, and my wishes are restored as many voices fill my
head with comfort.
I melt into a puddle of happiness as I realize that I'm loved, despite
my brutality.
To me,
This is what it's like to be Neutral.
This is what it's like to be a druid.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Sarapin, in the year 314 AF.