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Description
Winnie was a weasly fellow under the mass of frayed rags he wore, and the grassy crust that clung to them. With the stringy mats that hung over his eyes combed, and the soil washed from his ear-length mop, his hair might have been a fair blonde. So, too, might his rat, Chicken, be white, if ever she bathed in something other than ale. There was nothing noble about the weedy wanderer from the rainy cliffs by Gilneas City- not his sunken cheeks, nor bony nose, nor ill-complected eyes of muddy umber, but his gap-toothed smile was honest. On his many travels, the fine woolen cape his uncle gave him devolved into a patchwork rag of many knits and colors; blues from flyaway banners, yellows fished from boatwrecks, whites snatched from unguarded clotheslines, reds cut from tavern curtains... But between the rain, the wear, and the mud, they all resemble the same shade of brown these days.

You may find him in a quiet place, somewhere far from the noise of the city. If you follow the trail of flaked dirt and muddy petals, he'll be seated by the fire with a boot boorishly up on the table. Chicken's head will be dunked in a tankard of the worst ale in Azeroth, and the wildflowers Winnie had crammed into his pockets will have tumbled onto the floor. If he sees you, he'll smile, but say nothing. But if you sit, you'll come to learn that - despite being as charismatic as a wagon wheel - he is as curious as his rat is drunk.

my new world of warcraft character !

Description
Winnie was a weasly fellow under the mass of frayed rags he wore, and the grassy crust that clung to them. With the stringy mats that hung over his eyes combed, and the soil washed from his ear-length mop, his hair might have been a fair blonde. So, too, might his rat, Chicken, be white, if ever she bathed in something other than ale. There was nothing noble about the weedy wanderer from the rainy cliffs by Gilneas City- not his sunken cheeks, nor bony nose, nor ill-complected eyes of muddy umber, but his gap-toothed smile was honest. On his many travels, the fine woolen cape his uncle gave him devolved into a patchwork rag of many knits and colors; blues from flyaway banners, yellows fished from boatwrecks, whites snatched from unguarded clotheslines, reds cut from tavern curtains... But between the rain, the wear, and the mud, they all resemble the same shade of brown these days.

You may find him in a quiet place, somewhere far from the noise of the city. If you follow the trail of flaked dirt and muddy petals, he'll be seated by the fire with a boot boorishly up on the table. Chicken's head will be dunked in a tankard of the worst ale in Azeroth, and the wildflowers Winnie had crammed into his pockets will have tumbled onto the floor. If he sees you, he'll smile, but say nothing. But if you sit, you'll come to learn that - despite being as charismatic as a wagon wheel - he is as curious as his rat is drunk.

my new world of warcraft character !