In your first playthrough, you are common, but heroic, elephant, on a most righteous journey to recover your hat. On the second, however, you have transcended any mortal conceptualizations. No, my friend, you must be likened rather to an elephantine God, with a masterful arsenal befitting the divine in tow, and the elephantine furies themselves hovering at your beck and call.
The Taunt Command is out of balance. I had annihilated the enemies front line, but somehow the enemy's command unit was able to whittle down my Morale from 88 to 40 by calling me a Fox Beard.