A Tale of Two Druids

On returning from our holiday, we used our free boosts on a Druid each. It’s class we’ve both played a lot, possibly I even have more play time on Druids than I do Priests as I tended to raid on the Priest, PvP on the Druid in vanilla so I was a bit taken aback by the “class familiarization” tutorial.

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I know that level 100s running around without a clue as to how to play the class isn’t a good thing but this little training school scenario doesn’t change that, especially since it forces you into playing dps. It does however explain some of the quite frankly weird behaviour I’ve seen from undergeared level 100s in the Broken Isles scenario, they must be brand new characters.

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However like a well trained Kitty, Heartsease ripped and shredded on command, stopping only to mourn the loss of “pounce” as a spell in it’s own right, oh and to quibble about being told what to do by a Human. Having survived the Broken Isles scenario (and possibly got more Alliance killed than the Burning Legion so far…people without stealth really shouldn’t follow stealthed cats into hordes of Demons) and sorted out a transmogrification, I was at a bit of loose end.

Then I remembered our Troll Druids, abandoned on the same server at level 30.

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It didn’t take long to sort out their bars, respec where needed and head off in search of the nearest Demon Invasion. A few short hours later, they’ve gone from level 30 to 59, made quite a lot of gold from selling the contents of their lock boxes since a level 10 item sells for the same as a level 100 one and are now hoarding boxes with a view to opening at what level they reach before Legion comes out.

Just as I intend playing my new level 100 Druid as feral, my baby Troll is a kitty too and playing almost from scratch is helping me get my Druid groove back.

We haven’t paused for many quests but one of the few chains we managed to complete between invasions was the Camp Taurajo one. Let’s just say it made defending Westfall from the Demons a tad tricky.

Merrily the Mage

Spurred on by the thought of the Mage Class Hall and the realization that everyone else seems to have multiple 100s, I made a final push to get another character to level 100 yesterday. With a bit of prior preparation, she went from level 93 to mid way through 99 in less than 15 minutes. Those Elixirs of the Rapid Mind are without doubt my new favourite thing about WoD.

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Merrymaker Merrily, cat “owner”, Fire Mage and Pyromancer (mostly the flames indicate death by fire) is now albeit temporarily at the level cap.

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She’s wearing the following:

Manaweave Robe: The reward from an old Mage quest, now removed from the Game. No idea which of my various Mages I completed the quest on.

Cilice of Suffering: Quest reward from Terokkar Forest

Pilfered Ethereal Blade: Quest reward from Netherstorm

Whilst I won’t be leveling her first, I do plan on getting her into her class hall and completing her artifact weapon as soon as possible.

 

Every Cloud has a Silver Lining

I’m a creature of habit. My first Onyxia kills took place in vanilla, before flying mounts entered the game. As my then Guild tag acted as a sort of red rag to a Tauren (Orc, Troll and Undead too), we used to meet in Theramore and then either ride through the Marsh or make our way across the water slowly.

Now whenever the urge to kill her crosses my mind, I still go to Theramore before flying off to her lair.

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Things have changed somewhat since we used to gather, chatting by the main gate. An army of 40 players all in our glistening armour, looking more unified than we ever were (actually it was more like 38 because every raid had at least two players who needed summoning from somewhere…normally Gnomes). There is however still a beauty to be found amongst the ruined stone and gaping crater. I know it’s only a video game and yet, I can’t shake that feeling I have of loss whenever my character stands by what used to be the Theramore Tower.

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This story however has a happier ending. Much to my surprise, wrapped up in the usual Onyxia loot (Hunter/Druid…somethings never change), I discovered a mount. For once those fickle Gods of RNG smiled on me.

Running Away – A Short Story

Running away is easy, it’s the coming back which is hard.

“Here”, the once Priestess took the bottle offered by the Undead. The liquid was cold with an acid tang, burning like shame as it slid down her throat. She shook her head slightly, unused to the alcohol, feeling colour rush to her cheeks as the miscreants of the Dark Moon Faire surveyed her with amusement.

“So”, this time the voice belonged to a fellow Night Elf, although this one clearly hadn’t been anywhere near Darnassus for a long time. “What are you running from? Oh don’t be shy dear, we’re all running from something. Me, it’s not my fault that he died from a dagger in the back. No one joins the Faire unless they’ve got a guilty secret, something dark and delicious hidden inside just waiting to be unwrapped like a square of shiny chocolate or a Winter Veil gift”.

“I’m not running from the Law”, her tone was more judgmental than intended or wise. Once a Priestess of Elune, perhaps always a Priestess.

“Poor you”, this time it was a Gnome that spoke. “Running from yourself is the worst kind of running. You think you’ve found space, a moment’s peace from the demons in your head so you collapse on the grass, take a deep breath and then you see them, tramping across the meadow all tendrils and tentacles. You can’t outrun you…not even with Gnomish engineering. We’re afraid of the hand on our shoulders, the handcuffs of iron, the noose, the brand. You…you’re afraid of you”.

Drawing herself to her full height, the Priestess wrapped the shadows around herself like a shroud, breathing in the darkness to steady her thudding heart. “Hit a nerve, huh?” The Undead and the alcohol were back, “I’m not great on advice but if you can’t escape the monsters in your head, maybe it’s time to confront them. Although if they’re real demons as opposed to metaphorical ones, you might want to go somewhere else before letting them out. Wouldn’t want collateral damage now would we”.

The bottle, still seeming full despite having made many circles of the fire lit crowd found it’s way back into her hand. Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander back to the days before. The taverns after battles, drinking to forget and at memorials, drinking to remember. Those she had saved and those she couldn’t. The losses like knives in her skin, branding her with failure. The lovers, gone but not forgotten. Pained, dust in Theramore, broken bodies everywhere, blood pouring through her fingers as she tried to channel the light. Then rage taking her unaware, catching in her throat, squatting on her tongue so the only notes spilling forth were birthed in tendrils of shadow, searing all before her.

She recalled asking those around her, how they dealt with so much death. Her sisters in blood and her sisters in arms had shrugged, smiled and carried on. Her sister, once a Sentinel, now a Death Knight had sighed not meeting her eyes, her never still fingers sliding up and down, down and up her rune blade. Her lover, a Sentinel still had laughed, kissed, pulled her down into the bed ignoring the blood smears on her armour, immune it seemed to the stench of death surrounding them. Returning to Darnassus in search of answers, the Priestesses there, safe in the Temple miles away from skin puckered with stab wounds, slashed by axes, burnt by fel flames told her the old lies. Discipline, focus, Elune’s work…watch words to live by, if you’re miles from the front line.

The final straw, it wasn’t so much a straw as a moment’s clarity. The enemy changed, Horde, Old Gods, Monsters of every stripe and colour but the injured and the dead did not. From soldiers who mostly knew what they signing up for to children caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, her magic had soothed, healed and given life. She had fought until she could barely stand, until her voice was hoarse with whispered prayers, she had given everything in service to her Goddess and in return had asked for nothing.

Until that day, having collapsed in bed exhausted and drained of magic, she awoke filled with rage and a shadowy emptiness. Had, dragging one foot in front of the other walked away from her responsibilities, from her lover and her friends, from her sister.

Running away is easy, it’s the coming back which is hard.

 

Yes, beneath the illusion there might be some grains of personal truth in this. Madness can and does sneak up upon all of us, it hides in the most innocent of places, twists things beyond recognition and makes monsters out of memories. Post-natal depression is to put it politely a Bitch. 

Merrily We roll along into the last days of Pandaria

The expansion is so close, we can almost reach out and touch it. Am I organised? Well I’ve been tasked with planning Garrisons for all mine and Mr Harpy’s alts which had led to lots of happy little lists and diagrams but I suspect I’ll still be changing things right up until Warlords is live. We won’t be starting leveling in any proper fashion until Friday night due to Mr Harpy’s work schedule so from the expansion going live til then, I’ll just be setting up Garrisons for all the alts and doing any final preparations like making sure we have enough easy to eat food.

I have gold, more I think than I have had at the start of any other expansion but probably still less than most people.

I also managed to get myself a bone white primal raptor because given that we can’t fly in Draenor clearly I needed a new ground mount:

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So that’s another thing off the list.

Finally and perhaps more importantly, I’ve actually got around to buying the expansion and using my free 90. Therefore I’d like to introduce Merrymaker Merrily, fire Mage and all around pest.

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She’s at her merriest when setting other sentient beings on fire, is looking forward to Ashran and hopes her Garrison comes with some sort of ceremonial fireplace for the immolating of invaders and cremating of critters. Some how I suspect she’s going to be disappointed. In fact the only thing I need to get done by the 13th is come up with a suitably fiery transmog for her, perhaps incorporating the blazing wings.

Dorrie and the Quest for Green Fire

As the next patch draws closer I’m ever so slightly in panic mode. There is one thing I’d love to do before every changes once again and that’s level my little Warlock to 90 and give the Green Fire quest a shot. So in the next month can I get a level 39 Gnome to 90 plus acquire enough gear and then learn to play her well enough to get shiny green flames? I suspect not but there is no harm in trying.

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Also if you didn’t read the Dorrie books whilst growing up, keep an eye out for them because they are wonderful. Thanks to them I spent my childhood wishing I could ride a broomstick and have my very own cauldron.

Green grow the rushes oh: May’s ROYGBiV entry

The colour for May is green, the colour of envy. We associate it with spring and new shoots sprouting but also with decay as it’s the colour of mould and drowned flesh.

I knew right from the start that I had to use the Jinxed Hoodoo skin because it’s a piece dear to my heart. Two of my Druids are currently sporting it as part of their transmogrifications and I’ve always intended farming it on my Monk. At first I thought about just creating something for my other Druid, the one I plan on getting to 90 and transferring from her old forgotten server before Warlords goes live but then I got side tracked by that sword and realised that my Monk was in danger of ending up envious of the Druids.

Despite my lack of love for yellow, I’ve always preferred these shoulders to the original and so it made sense to  use them to tie together those pale vanilla shades in the kilt and the detailing on the bodice.

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  • Crown of the Forest Lord
  • Mantle of Autumn
  • Jinxed Hoodoo Skin
  • Bracers of Rolling Fields
  • Duskwing Handwraps
  • Moss Cinch
  • Jinxed Hoodoo Kilt
  • Swampwalker Boots
  • Ethereum Phase Blade
  • Councilor’s Sceptor
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