So the idea of posting and redoing all of my awesome guides in a prompt and quick fashion? Totally not happening.
My workload, despite my fabulous ability to do anything, is actually far too large to leave hanging. I will NOT be updating as frequently as I would have liked, but that’s just what happens when you’re being fabulous everywhere.
So please don’t expect daily posts, or even 3 times a week. Maybe 1-2 posts, tops. And that will do, because otherwise I would die.
So stay tuned, but be prepared for some wait times.
The bar was nigh on empty, the dim light from fading lamps and candles casting flickering shadows across the walls. The bartender, a blood elf with long blond hair and clear evergreen eyes, cleaned a few mugs just to pass the time. When you’re a blood elf, you can just magically wish for the dishes to do themselves and chance are, it will happen. Whistling, the bartender turned towards the patron sitting on the stool in front of him.
“Now stranger, anything else before I close up?” He put the mug he was cleaning in front of the figure.
The man sat in silence for a few moments, his cloak hiding most of his features save for a mesh of rich, auburn coloured hair that fell out of his hood.
“Actually, I haven’t had a bottle of Pinot Noire in… two years? I’d like a bottle.” He paused for a moment. “… please.”
“That’ll be twenty silver coins please.” The clattering of coin sounded throughout the bar, and moments later the bottle was empty.
The man wiped off his chin, put the bottle on the counter, and smiled at the bartender. “You’re a super nice person, ‘tender. Mind if I call you ‘Tender?”
The bartender just shook his head and continued to clean glasses.
The man stood up. “Thank you all for the terribly soundless evening. It was soundless, like, without sounds.” He bowed, nearly fell over, and turned to the exit,
And collided with a Death Knight.
The Death knight’s cold, eerie and metallic voice chilled the evening air. “Funny, bumping into you here. Sit down and have a drink, it’s on me.”
The man shook his head. “I think I’d rather go somewhere else, if you don’t mind.” He started to make for the exit again, but a large, gauntleted hand grabbed his shoulder and held him fast.
“I didn’t ask.” Grinning, the Death Knight sat the man down at a table, then sat down opposite him.
The Death knight’s ice blue hair framed his elfen features, all perfectly maintained despite his resurrection. His cold eyes were the only real give away of his ‘profession’ other than a hefty smell of gore and decay. His armor was thick and plated, and showed gouges and scars of having fought fiercely up in Northrend against his former master.
“So to what do I owe you the pleasure of my company, Death kinniget?”
The Death knight looked pensive for a second. “Actually, it’s to ‘whom’, and a lot of people at that. First, do you remember Eldadres? He studied for a long time on where you could have been, and how to get in contact with you; and although he didn’t find a way to contact you, he found out a way to track where you were in a general sense. You went to universes I didn’t know existed, planes where I didn’t you could exist. What they all had in common were the elements. Which is where the second person comes in: Windpaw, a shaman. She focused really hard on learning how to find out which place you were in by speaking to the elements of that plane. So when you came back to this one, we knew you had come back, down to the second you came.”
The man shifted in his chair, not uneasily, but largely because the chairs were uncomfortable, more so than he remembered.
The Death knight continued. “Once you got here, we only needed to track you down. So, you owe Aifel here too. The instant you set foot back on Azeroth, he was on your trail.”
From the shadows of the bar emerged a young blood elf. His spiky brown hair did nothing to cover the completely uninterested look on his face. He sat down at the table with them. “Sup.”
The death knight continued. “Once he had your movements all mapped out, he informed me of where you would be. And here you are.”
The man smiled. “I suppose you got help from another old friend of mine. Where’s Colemand?”
The Bartender turned around. “Alright, now that he knows, can someone take this frivolous magic off of me? It tastes like mildew.”
With a wave of the death knight’s hand and some arcane mutterings, the bartender turned from a young blood elf bartender into a stooped, fearsome looking Forsaken death knight.
“Much better. I don’t know how you can all live with that crap all the time.” Colemand sat down at the table as well. “Honestly, it’s worse than being dead, and now I know both.”
The Death knight shook his head. “Well, no one said you had to be here Colemand. You could have stayed in your kitchen, feeding the war effort.”
Colemand’s guttural laugh filled the bar. “Hellscream doesn’t know the meaning of food! Cooking for his army felt like cooking dirt. I’d rather go out and make my own food. Besides, I haven’t made a Gnome pie in ages, and I heard they make them in priests now, too. If there’s anything more delicious than irony, I want to taste it.”
The man sat still for a moment, then looked up at the blood elf across the table from him. “So why all the love? I’m not the most important elf on Azeroth, not by a long shot. I wasn’t even present to see the downfall of Arthas. I’m definitely no hero of the Horde, and I’m certainly not on Hellninny’s good side.”
“True, but Hellscream does know that you got shit done. With Deathwing on the rise, that’s what needs to happen; but that’s not the reason we sought you out. To be honest, Hellscream probably doesn’t care that you’re here at all.” The Death knight clasped his hands together. “Look, we all know you left to search the universes. For a woman, no less. A gentleman’s move on your part, to pursue love; but it didn’t work, did it?”
The man’s face turned sombre as the death knight continued. “Maybe she died, maybe she didn’t love you, maybe both. Either way, she’s not in your life anymore. And now you’re here, drinking yourself silly from the west coast of Kalimdor to the east coast of the Eastern Kingdoms. We’re here to make you do what you were born to do. You are a hunter, and a damn good one. Maybe not the most practical, nor the most flexible, but certainly one of the best.”
The room went silent. Aifel sat silently picking his teeth with a dagger. Colemand starting scratching doodles into the table using a clawed, iced finger. The death knight sat in silence his hands still clasped in front of him. The man stared down at the table. This continued for what seemed like ages, the silence falling on the room like a musty covering.
Finally, the man looked up at the death knight. “I don’t see how a lot of what you said is your business. You’re treading on ground that I honestly don’t want anyone to tread on yet; but you’re right about one thing, Elnoriah.”
The man threw back his hood to reveal long auburn hair, tied to keep it out of his face, bright evergreen eyes, long elegant ears and eyebrows, and a large smile. He whistled sharply, a piercing sound, and no sooner had he done so than a large black wolf had bounded into the room and knocked the man over and started licking his face.
Me more than you, I mean. By writing this post, I am going to be putting a lot of memories, good and bad, in the past.
Yes, this means I am quitting WoW. I am putting the World of Azeroth, the lore, the game, behind me.
Apparently, this is a big deal.
After I explained to the Peon why I was leaving, his situation seemed to get worse.
But it pains me to say it. As you may or may not know, I do love this game. Or loved. I mean, I loved every part of it! PvP, PvE, exploring, the lore, the achievements, the look, the feel… every inch of this game was something I’ve been waiting for as a kid. I’ve always wanted to be the hero, to defeat my enemies, and to stand proud and tall when people give me praise.
Today, I’m typing this to you with shoulders slumped and head bowed, for I have lost my feel. The game no longer inspires the same feeling it once did. Not from burnout, no. I never suffer burnout; but I do feel like I’ve been playing this game for so long, and it’s been affecting me adversely.
For starters, my job hunt did not go well this year. I believe that if I had spent less time working for WoW than I had, I would be happily sitting on a pile of money right now.
If I was sitting happily on a pile of money, then I wouldn’t have the arduous choice of picking another year of school and therefore being successful, or work for a year; my course is clear though, and I know what I’m picking because I have something else I don’t want to leave behind. Not again, not for a long time, not ever. Some people measure success by money, some by fame.
Mrs. Klin is the most precious thing to me in my life. I had to go to school for a year, seeing her over Skype and talking to ehr every day of every week of every month. I came home to visit once a month without fail… and yet it wasn’t enough. It never was. Once I got home, Mrs. Klin and I have spent so much time together that I never want to let her go again, ever.
Mrs. Klin, I love you, and I want to stay close to you forever. To do that, I’m going to have to work hard for you, but I’m prepared to do anything it takes to stay by you for as long as I live.
Some people measure success by money, some by fame. I want to measure my success by you.
It’s weird, to know that your time with something you love is limited, to wonder if you’ll ever go back and see the things you’ve accomplished.
Klinderas is my finest achievement in a game. Smart, efficient, and able to beat the odds when it really counts. Klinderas is likely a name I will never forget, and a character I will continue to use throughout my life as an example of a good person, even if he was a little full of himself.
When I made Klinderas, I was modeling him after me. Tall, not too bad looking, and a little frail but good with a bow. After I made him, I began to realize he was becoming a different character than when he started: noble, active, just. A man who wouldn’t put up with bullshit if he saw it, who would help out those in need, who would hold the right people accountable for their actions and persecute them for what they did wrong.
I’d like to think I grew up with my character, and my avatar on the fields of Azeroth. I’d like to think I’m a little more Klin than I used to be.
Before I go, there’s a few people I want to thank for my time here in Azeroth.
To Eldadres: my man, you and I have been playing together for long enough that I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to play without a friend. Where my friends were busy raiding BT or quitting, you were playing right alongside me. We’ve earned our glory in arenas, mopped the field with our enemies in BG’s, and made the Bosses in raids and heroics piss their pants when they see us coming. We were a %$#&ing awesome team, dude.
To Dan “BRK” Howell: for inspiring me to become the hunter I became, and then reminding us what’s really important… hopefully before it’s too late. I think I’ve managed to do that okay, for once.
To all the friends I made in game: It was a pleasure playing with all of you, raid leading you, or otherwise just dickin’ around with you. I hope my old guild leaders have successful new guilds, that Gradii enjoys his new writing career and tanks his way to Arthas, that Hannah gets some shoulders to match her new chest piece, that Connected gets his Protodrake, and that the many, many people I’ve met lead happy lives.
Lastly, I’d like to thank the people I’ve met through this blog. Everyone I’ve read, who’s read what I had to write, and everything else that involves this blog… none of it would have happened without you guys.
Klinderas: You know, Colemand? We had a good run. We got pretty damn far, and did a whole damn lot here in Azeroth. Colemand: Indeed. Klinderas: I’m going to miss this place. Colemand: Agreed. So where are we going next? Klinderas: … No idea. I have an option though: let’s walk that way until we find someplace nice to stay. An ocean, some sand, maybe some game for me to hunt once in awhile. Colemand: Can there be gnomes? I’m going to miss them… they make funny popping noises when they die. Klinderas: We’ll see, Cole. We’ll see. Colemand: Will we ever come back? Klinderas: Maybe; but it’s going to be a long time from now if we do, so don’t pack lightly. We’re going to be gone awhile.
QUICK NOTE: I’m not done blogging, just done blogging about WoW and playing WoW. If you want to keep reading what i have to say about stuff in general, you can find me at Phil, Meet World.
This is pretty big news, but our resident death knight has decided to write!
Colemand has been graciously allowed to write for Nance, the author of Alterac Volley. Many of you know Nance’s work on the WoW Headlines and PuG Checker sites, so it’s a huge surprise to be allowed to write on his main blogging site part time.
Colemand’s shenanigans will be kept at this site. What Colemand will be writing about includes death knights, death knights, and more death knights. PvP, PvE, Tips and tricks… they will be all over there. As this continues, I’ll be writing Hunter equivalent posts here if I’m allowed.
In the mean time, congratulate our chef extraordinaire on his first bold step into informative blogging!
Although I think Gevlon has a very good point and is right, I really wish he wasn’t. See, trust is really one of those hefty words that is thrown around nowadays. It has great rewards, and staggering losses; but because of all the losses, people are afraid of the rewards. People don’t trust.
Allow me to explain.
People don’t trust on the internet. This makes sense, as the information is available to everything and everyone with a connection. From the best people to the very worst, the fact that I am a dude who plays WoW and has fun doing it is no secret to anyone with enough brains to use a search engine. I don’t put up anything else of note really to avoid being hunted down and used for target practice.
However, real life shouldn’t be this fear laden. You only make yourself available to those you choose to meet. You can choose not to see another person, to not tell them things. You can choose not to trust people, and to show them who you are.
But what’s so wrong with who you are? When I meet people face to face, I tend to trust them. Mrs. Klin has pointed out to me time and again that it’s not a good idea, and time and again she’s been right; and me, like an Alzheimer’s patient, have a hard time learning this lesson of distrust and fear.
We fear that people are being dishonest, so we’re dishonest with them. We put on a poker face the instant someone tells us they are selling anything. We frequently tell small, white lies to hide imperfections in our identity so that no one can hurt us for them.
I have a strict rule with people: I’m honest with you, you better be honest with me. I better be able to trust that what you’re saying is true. I want reliable, gods-be-my-witness accurate information of exactly what you saw, did, and thought. I don’t want lies to make things “sound” better. I don’t want lies as an act of vengeance. I don’t want distrust, ’cause if I find any I will excommunicate you so fast that you won’t know how angry I am at you.
I’ve seen distrust and lies do ugly things to good people. People get sent to jail without a good reason because of distrust of the defendant. This society prides itself on “guilty until proven innocent” but hardly ever operates that way. The instant someone is arrested, they are “the bad guy”. They didn’t even say anything, but no one could trust a thing they say. There’s a natural distrust of the accused when there should be trust in the fact that he/she isn’t guilty, not until proven so.
Because of this, no one trusts the system either. The system loses power in the people(who are the real power, after all).
This natural distrust is a response to all the rest of the natural distrust. I want to trust you, I really do; but how can I if you don’t trust me?
Real life shouldn’t be like this, but it is. It’s a constant game of hide and go seek where the stakes are as high as your lively-hood. You can’t truly trust anything anyone says because they can’t truly trust a thing you say. Preen-ups are a form of distrust, but you need it because you can’t trust the other half of the relationship. Politicians, the people who run countries, can’t be trusted because they “lie” all the time(which they do, more often than not I’m sorry to say).
Where did all this distrust come from? Why can’t we trust one another? This Ferraro incindent, the start of this little rant, is a perfect example of why we can’t trust everyone; but it’s so important to trust people. Without trust, society degenerates into a frothing mass of cavemen at the bottom of a pit the size of Texas.
Let me leave you with a story of how things once were.
The ancient Greeks were once so trusting that they would bring strangers into their house, bathe them, clothe them, and feed them, let them sleep the night, and then they’d ask who they were. This was hospitality, and it was so important to them that Zeus himself was the patron god of Hospitality.
There’s a story from ancient myth that tells of a time when Zeus and Hermes disguised themselves as mortals, and then went down to a city. They were tired, and went to a house and asked them for hospitality. They did as we would do; they refused the grungy looking hobos they saw from entering their house. Zeus and Hermes continued to ask for house and home for a night, and continued to be refused entry.
Zeus and Hermes stopped at the last house within the city limits, which was perched on a lonely hill. The people inside the house were very poor, old, and could barely farm at all due to the ungrateful land around them.
When Zeus and Hermes asked these two for a place to rest, they said yes. Why wouldn’t they? Normal people were supposed to trust other people on this level. Only an abnormal person would refuse them.
When they entered, Zeus and Hermes both took on their real forms. They spoke and ate the offerings the old couple, and told them that they were the only ones to grant them hospitality. As a reward, Zeus flooded the valley. The flood killed all the people in the city, all the people who didn’t grant them a house to live in. At the same time, this gave the old couple the most fertile land in the area, and they were prosperous until the end of their days.
This type of trust was the norm, once a long time ago. Think about that for a second, and you can see just how far we’ve gone from that.
Now Ferraro’s actions make sense. The “immorality” which Matticus is only the social norm. Gevlon has described the motto of this world: trust no one. Does it have to be this way? Only if you make it so, dear reader.