Not many people realise that I used to be a unicorn. How could I once be a unicorn and then no longer? Pour me another glass and I'll tell the tale...

Ah, thanks. Story telling is thirsty work.

On the last day of the battle of Greenthorpe Valley, I and my two brothers were defending Queen Evenhope against a score of berserk trolls. The battle had not gone well that day, but I won't recount the treachery that pushed us to the limits of our strength; suffice to say that we were outnumbered and almost overrun. Evenhope had exhausted her fire and had barely the stamina to cloud the vision of the trolls with her light.

I felt the bilious churn of fell magic and turned to see an ogre appear behind my Queen's back. The ogre raised her axe but I was fast and desperate. The blow never touched the Queen. I blocked the blade on the tip of my horn then dispatched the ogre. Within minutes a horn blast echoed from the southern end of the valley and the trolls fled.

We were victorious.

That same night, the cost of my valour was revealed. The ogre's attack had been meant for me. The ebony blade had notched the tip of my horn, the focus of my might. By morning my horn had split down the centre and the two sides were starting to curl. My hooves began to divide and I knew my purity was lost.

I took my leave of the kingdom while I still had the honour and willpower to do so. The descent from a beast of purity to a creature of taint takes several weeks, but it is complete and irreversible. The noble animal becomes filled with trickery and deceit. On no account should you believe a story told by such a vile creature. Thanks for the drink, sucker.