Memoires (Part 8 - An Alliance is Born)

The next two months went by very quickly. Embroiled as I was in my GCSE exams, I did not manage to take part in every single raid, but I still went to as many as I could and we made kill after kill.

Kindred and Co swept relentlessly through the core, making consistent and steady progress and in early June, had managed to take down the following bosses:

Magmadar

Gehennas

Garr

Baron Geddon

Shazzrah

Golemagg

Sulfuron

Majordomo Executus

Each boss was challenging in it's own way, but the standout encounter amongst them for me was Baron Geddon, purely for one of his abilities where he would make a player "The Bomb". That player would then have a few seconds to run away from all of their friends before they blew up, lest they blow the raid up with them.

Naturally, this was a source of both hilarity and frustration, and I will long remember the feeling of: "SHIT, I'M THE BOMB. RUN!"

Another fun encounter was Majordomo Executus, the penultimate boss in Molten Core. It was a challenging encounter as the boss came with eight adds. Majordomo himself was also very hard to keep control of, as he would frequently dump the tank into a fire pit and then wander off towards the rest of the raid in search of squishy victims. This meant that everyone had to be alert and so the encounter was a very dynamic one, with tanks running left and right and it was just a lot of fun to finally pin down the execution of it.

Defeating Majordomo meant that we now only had Ragnaros left before we would officially complete The Molten Core, and also all the raiding content that was currently available within the game.

Ragnaros

In the month and a half that the raid had been together, the social dynamics within the mostly static group of people had evolved greatly. As you can imagine, if you bunged 40 unfamiliar people into a room and set them a task, there would be a lot of awkwardness at first. This was exactly what it was like at the start. Everyone was polite and accomodating, and I think everyone had the feeling that they were part of something momentous, so a lot of compromises were made in order to make the raid succesful.

As time passed however and everyone became more comfortable with each other, people began to relax back into their natural states, and a variety of cliques and personalities came out. There was the Kindred elite, as I liked to refer to them as. This included Gigamo, as well the main tank Pyrolobus and his priest, Ellen, along with several other characters. To my eyes, they kept themselves fairly aloof from the rest of the raid and socialised amongst themselves. Then, there was the friendly Kindred bunch, who were, well, friendly, and also completely bonkers. They were great fun to play with. Finally, there was "the rest", which comprised of most of the non-Kindred people.

As the weeks went by, more and more of the raid became Kindred, either through replacement of outsiders, or by people joining Kindred after feeling the rush of success and wanting more. The officers from The Revenants who were involved with Kindred (Chaspal, Zacker and myself) knew that the arrangement we had would soon become untenable, especially as now The Revenants itself had quite a few level 60's who were looking to make the jump to raiding. I flirted briefly with the idea of joining Kindred, but then I realised that although I wanted success, I wanted that success to be with The Revenants, a guild that had now come to feel like a bunch of friends, rather than a mass of strangers.

So, whilst we attended raids with Kindred and made attempts at Ragnaros. The other guild officers and I began to work towards securing the raiding future for us. Our first attempt at making an alliance didn't go particularly well - it was with a guild called Vikings of Midgard, and it wasn't that they were bad players, but their guild as a whole was too far behind The Revenants in the progression curve. This was made abundantly clear to us as we went on our first joint dungeon run. What should have been a routine run that took 2 hours actually ended up taking twice that long, and after that the alliance fizzled out.

We were then at a loss for a while as to what to do, but then, by a series of coincidences, things began to come together. During my time raiding with Kindred, I had often been put with a warrior from SWE (pronounced swee), and had become very good friends with him, along with other people from a guild called Blue Moon. As it turned out, Blue Moon and SWE were two guilds that were fairly tight, being as they were comprised of a lot of scandinavians, and players from continental Europe.

Chaspal and the leader of Blue Moon, a mage called Animagi, began talking and they got on like a house on fire. We then began joint runs to the lesser level 60 dungeons to test the waters. Given that most of the top players in the respective guilds were already fairly familiar with each other from raiding with Kindred, the runs went as smooth as honey. It also seemed to me that the ethos and goals and atmosphere within the three guilds seemed to gel pretty well and so the decision was made to strike an alliance, with the goal being to field a 40-man raid of our own separately from Kindred.

Then, we had to decide on a name. Nobody really had any good ideas, so we decided to just amalgamate the guild names.

"It should be ordered BM SWE REV," said the members of Blue Moon.
"No, it should be SWE BM REV," said SWE.
"REVBMSWE," said Chaspal.

I rolled my eyes and suggested we order them alphabetically.

And so, BMREVSWE was born. An alliance with a lot of promise, a lot of heart, but not a particularly good name.

Memoires (Part 7 - Into the Core)

The Molten Core

Nowadays in World of Warcraft, it is possible for Molten Core to be completed by less than five players (indeed, some have even managed to solo it), however, in Summer 2005, this place was the hardest and most hardcore dungeon that players could tackle.

It consisted of ten bosses, separated by many packs of lesser monsters (known as trash mobs). In order to make progress in the Core, raids needed to be long (typically 2+ hours), well organised and well led. It was also the first dungeon where the reset mechanic really began to matter. What's a reset mechanic? I hear you ask. Well, Blizzard realised that their dungeons would take a long time, so they made it so that once you killed a boss in the Molten Core, it would stay dead for a week, and then the dungeon would be reset meaning that the raid would have to start all over again.

It also meant that you were locked to that version of the dungeon for the week, so you couldn't jump from one instance of the dungeon to another one, killing the first boss over and over for the items, for example.

Flush from our success with Onyxia, Kindred began to organise raids to the Core. By this time, I was beginning to establish myself as a fairly respectable priest within the raid and so was often given the task of off-healing (where I would be healing one of the secondary tank groups).

I stood beside my frostsaber, Saer, along with the rest of the assembled warriors in front of a massive set of iron doors, which were slightly ajar. I stroked his mane, fingers twirling the soft fur absent mindedly as I listened to King Bronzebeard's edict, read out to us by Gigamo.

We stood on the precipice, steeling ourselves for what was to come. Over the past months, investigations by various factions had uncovered the true nature of the Blackrock Mountain. The Emperor of the Dark Iron Dwarves, who were sworn enemies of the bronzebeard dwarves, had freed the Firelord Ragnaros in his quest to gain greater power. Ragnaros was a malicious elemental spirit that had been trapped far underneath the ground for over a thousand years. His first act upon being released was to take control of the Dark Iron Dwarves, and put them to use creating an army of golems for his revenge. Ragnaros hollowed out the depths of Blackrock Mountain, making it his home, and opened a rift to the fire plane, allowing malcontent spirits into the world of Azeroth.

Today, we would be assaulting his lair, with the aim of stopping whatever schemes of destruction he had in place.

I patted Saer on the head, sending him away to the wild - the fiery depths of the core would be no place for a frostsaber. He nuzzled me gently and licked my face, a parting gift of affection, before loping off into the distance.

"This is not a suicide mission!" said Gigamo, raising his voice, "We can, and we will prevail. We have studied these lieutenants of Ragnaros, and we have studied him. We know how to beat him!"

I mentally checked over my list of provisions for the umpteenth time; potions, salves, bandages, food and water.

"Brothers and sisters, share your strength with each and with me, and we will not fall. Ragnaros will die. This I pledge, for Azeroth!"

Gigamo raised a fist in the air, rousing us all.

"For Azeroth!" came the unified response, our solidarity warming my heart.

Gigamo turned and marched through the doors, into the heart of the mountain. We followed, ready for anything.

As I passed through the thick iron of the doors, a wave of heat blasted my face. My eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the dim light, and once they did, I saw the scope of what lay before us. The inside of the mountain had been carefully crafted by the dwarves. We stood on a walkway which circled the whole cavern. Far below this walkway, in the centre of the mountain, lay a huge broiling pit of lava, casting dancing lights of orange and red onto the walls. Suspended above the lava was a shard of rock, carved into a spiral walkway that connected the depths of the mountain to the entrance where we stood. It was held in place by great chains, each link being bigger than a person, which lashed it to the bare rock of the mountain interior.

Blackrock Mountain Interior

As I peered over the edge of the walkway, feeling the heat from the molten rock thrashing about hundreds of feet below, Chaspal came to my side.

"And guess where the entrance to this place is?" he said, a little sardonically.
"Down there?"

He nodded. "Come on, let's go."

Gigamo led the group over one of the chains onto the spiral walkway, and we followed it down and down into the bowels of the mountain. The air was thick with the smell of sulphur and ash, and with each passing step my breathing became more laboured.

The walkway led us to a small alcove with a window frame set in it, big enough for a man to fit through and carved ornately from the rock. Beyond it, I could only see lava.

Gigamo held up a small pumiced piece of rock. "Everyone, hold out your core shards!"

I did as instructed.

"Now, go through the window," he said, pointing at the alcove.

A bunch of murmers swept through the assembled raid. Gigamo did not wait to be questioned, he walked calmly through the window and leapt off the edge. We rushed forwards and put our heads through to see if he had fallen into the lava below, but there was no sign of his body.

Zacker shrugged. "Let's go!"

She was the next to leap, and as she impacted the lava, there was a flash of light and suddenly her body was gone, transported through the dimensional portal into the core itself.

"Talk about your leaps of faith," I murmured to no one in particular, before I jumped myself. I could feel the heat of the lava ripping at my body as I fell, and then, suddenly, I landed on the coolness of a rocky floor.

I was in the core.

We made progress quite quickly at first, going through the trash mobs. There were several wipes of course, as we had to learn the tactics on how to defeat each kind of monster. Gigamo was a very experienced player, having beta tested this dungeon, and so he knew his way around and provided us with valuable tactics that guided the raid. I concentrated hard on his every word, trying to commit them all to memory.

There were Molten Giants, huge behemoths that came in pairs and dealt a big amount of damage to the tanks, stressing the healers. Then there were Firelords, flame elementals who spawned little copies of themselves that would quickly replicate and overwhelm the raid if not killed in time, this tested the reactiveness of the damage dealers. There were also Core Hounds (referred to affectionately later on as doggies), which came in several different flavours and had various different abilities ranging from a mass stun to mass area of effect fire damage. Then there were various rock elementals which were hard to tank and liked to punt people left right and centre - they became a constant source of amusement / frustration as if you were not positioned correctly they would punt you off the edge and into the lava, where you would swim around taking damage until you died, and of course, the rest of the raid would point and laugh whilst this happened.

That first raid in the Molten Core was awesome. I really felt like a pioneer. This was the cutting edge of the end game and we were the first to attempt it. We were the best. I like being the best.

Finally, after some hours we made it to the first real boss. Lucifron.

Lucifron the Harbinger

Lucifron had some fairly nasty abilities which completely stomped us at first. There was an area of effect curse which doubled the cost of any ability (if it wasn't removed promptly, the healers ran out of mana extremely quickly). There was another area of effect curse which counted down from ten seconds and then inflicted a massive amount of damage. This led to no end of wipes as he would apply the curse to everyone in the raid, the curse removers would take too long and then half the raid would die instantly. He also mind controlled random players in the raid, and came with two helpers, just to cause extra chaos.

Even though Gigamo had told us all of this beforehand, the execution of the tactics was still difficult as it was the first time any of us had encountered this type of fight. I was assigned to heal one of the off tanks. By the end of the first raid, we had made some progress on the encounter, but had not fully managed to beat him.

Screencap of the Lucifron fight taken from a video made in 2006. By then, the encounter was routine.

On the second raid, we nailed it and he died, to rapturous celebrations. We had officially made our first steps into the Molten Core. Word spread quickly through private messages and various guild chats and soon the congratulations began to roll in. The mages set up a town portal to Ironforge, the major hub city of the game at the time, and we rode in, announcing proudly in the general chat that Lucifron was down - it felt like we were heroes returning triumphantly from battle, which I guess, in the context of the game, was exactly what we were.

Memoires (Part 6 - Onyxia)

...and beyond.

"Lady" Onyxia

The Kindred and Co group enjoyed much success after the Azuregos kill. As word of our deed became more well known around the server, and as more and more people began to reach level 60, there was a clamour building to get spots in the raid group as at that time, no other guild was able to pull together a raid group with any noticeable success. However, slots were not just up for grabs and as the group became tighter raid spaces began to become reserved for regular goers - we were beginning to gel as a team and that was a really good feeling. The Kindred guild leadership were quite good about this, and it became a regular group of Kindred guild members alongside a regular group comprised of members from mainly three or four other guilds.

We took down Lord Kazzak shortly after Azuregos, and then turned our attention to Onyxia. This encounter was on a whole new level of difficulty. The fight was split into 3 phases, with varying tactics for each one that had to be memorised and honed to a high degree of competency. We set about this with gusto - the end game was still new to us and this novelty factor combined with the collective hunger to beat the encounter provided us with quite a high level of focus. If I remember correctly, it took us about two weeks to finally master the encounter, with something like three evenings per week dedicated to attempts. I'm not going to go over in detail the nature of the fight in this post, however, interested readers can visit here. Instead, I'll post some screenshots which I still have!

There she is!

The main tank gets her attention whilst the rest of the raid runs in and gets into position (half the raid goes to her left and the other half goes to her right).

Dragon hits main tank, damage dealers hit dragon.

Phase 2 is a war betwen her breaths of fire and our ranged damage dealers (she won many times).

But that doesn't mean the melee fighters are left standing - they had to kill all of Onyxia's little whelplings.

Phase 3 is her landing. Cue lots of lava eruptions which are pretty painful. If you're curious about the interface, it shows the health and mana status of each member in the raid in the boxes on the left hand side. As you can see, the majority of the raid is dead.

She kicked our ass many a time.

We got her back just as many times in the end.

The fight where we first took her down lasted over 15 minutes. 15 minutes of intense concentration, with all the raid members playing their roles like following the steps in an intricate dance. The elation and rush when she finally went down was incredible, I think it was partly due to the fact that there is something intrinsically satisfying about co-operating as team - it was the same sort of feeling I had from playing the violin in my school's string quartet, except of course, slaying dragons was much cooler, and 40 people is more like an orchestra than a string quartet, making it feel very epic indeed.

However, the other part of the rush came from my innately competitive nature - we were the first to do it on the server. We had made our mark on the virtual world, and our names would be forever embedded in the history of this server. I think everyone wants to make an impact and leave a legacy, and when Onyxia was slain, that's what it felt like - we were shaping history in this virtual world.

When we slew Onyxia, we took her head back to Stormwind City, and it was hung up in the city as a grisly trophy.

Onyxia's Head

As her head was hoisted, a rallying cry went out through the whole city announcing her death and crowning the raid as dragonslayers. Suddenly, the chat channels exploded with people offering their congratulations, and as the raid gathered underneath the head for some screenshots (which I sadly no longer have), many other players came to see the head and to check out the raid which had killed her. There were of course some snarky comments, which I put down to envy, but on the whole the response was overwhelmingly positive and honestly at that point, things felt awesome.

Memoires (Part 5 - The Great Masquerade)

I'll never forget the first time I visited Stormwind City. It was after our defeat of Van Cleef; the local Captain had referred us onwards to the keep in the capital itself, where we were to receive commendations for our valour. We set off on foot with Zacker leading the way, although this was hardly necessary, given that the footpaths in Elwynn Forest were well trodden and well marked with directions.

The path we trod wound ever upwards through the verdant forest, threading it's way through thick oaks and wild grass of a brilliant shade of green. The canopies of the trees were not so thick as to block out sunlight, and so the trail was well lit, with everything bathed in a golden green hue. Bird song filled the air, which smelled to my keen elfin nose of life in all its vibrancy - somewhat different to the placid and timeless musk of Teldrassil.

Suddenly, as we crested a rise in the path, the trees suddenly thinned and the entrance to Stormwind was revealed. The polished white of the city walls jutted out from the grey of the surrounding rock. The gravelled path beneath our feet gave way to pristine white flagstones as we passed through the front gate, comprising of two massive wooden doors that were currently swung wide open, welcoming any and all. The on-duty guard gave us a courteous nod as we passed. Overhead, the cries of gryphons could be heard as they bore travellers to and from the busy trade districts on great thrusts of white feathered wings.

Directly beyond the front gate was the so called Valley of Heroes. The wide walkway was bordered by sheer drops on either side - fifty metres at least to the deep moat below. It was flanked by four statues - two a side - dedicated to the brave heroes who sacrificed themselves in order to keep the demon hordes of the Burning Legion beyond the Dark Portal. The gilded marble of the four monoliths glinted in the sun, and I felt a wave of reverence wash over me. We continued walking and saw a fifth statue stood at the head of the path.

"Hail Turalyon," murmured Zacker, almost out of reflex, as we walked past.

The keep of Stormwind was quiet, perhaps held in the grip of a mid-morning lull, as we entered and showed our papers to the guards. They escorted us through the marbled corridors, resplendant with woven tapestries and painted glass, to a side room, for an audience with the Captain of the guard. As we passed the throne room, I couldn't help but sneak a glance in. My eyes met that of a woman's, who returned the gaze coldly. Although I knew she probably meant no malice, I somehow felt a shiver run through me.

"Zacker, who's that woman in the throne room?" I whispered to our resident human, not wishing to disturb too much the austere silence within the corridors we walked in.
"The one in the red dress with the cold stare?" she replied, and upon seeing my nod, continued. "That's Lady Katrana Prestor, one of the advisors to the king."
"One of?"
"The other one is Bolvar Fordragon, you must know of him, surely?"

I nodded, but then had another question, being all too aware of my pitiful knowledge of the humans as I asked it.

"Who's the king?"
"Varian Wrynn," began Zacker, and then stopped and shook her head,  "Sorry, his son, Anduin Wrynn. Varian disappeared some weeks ago on a diplomatic mission to Theramore Island."
"King!" Snorted Chaspal quietly, "the boy is barely ten years old. At that age he should be lucky to be recognised as a man, let alone a king."

We arrived then at the Captain's quarters, and no more was said.

Stormwind City Panorama

As I stepped from gravel to flagstone once again, many months later, I remembered that day and the look in Lady Katrana Prestor's eyes. Up ahead, Chaspal was conversing with a man who held in his hands evidence of a conspiracy. It was evidence that would change Stormwind forever. I gripped the knurling of my staff, feeling not only the carefully crafted oak, but also the flow of the enchantments that coursed within. Reginald Windsor, a Marshal of Stormwind, had come a long road to deliver his information, and we, the Revenants, were determined to see it through to the end.

We first happened on Windsor as he was locked in a cell, kept as a prisoner of the Dark Iron Dwarves in the Blackrock Depths. We freed him, but he refused to leave his cell; he was a man who had succumbed to the depths of despair. He talked only of his notes; ones that were taken from him by the Dark Iron Dwarves, and how they contained evidence of vital importance; evidence of treason in the keep, evidence which had to be presented lest the downfall of Stormwind occur.

We left him in his cell, but his words did not leave our mind. Deep in the Blackrock Depths, we discovered Windsor's notes in a cache and brought them back to him. His mood changed from despondancy to determination in a heartbeat, and now, he wanted to leave. We broke him out of the prison, overwhelming the best efforts of the wardens and escaped with him back to the surface. He bade us gather as much of an army as we could and to meet him at the gates of Stormwind. Chaspal acted immediately, and scarcely had a day passed that the full force of the Revenants stood assembled at the gate. The on duty guard was very confused and passerby civilians stopped and stared.

Finally, Windsor turned to address us. "My friends, thank you for coming to Stormwind's assistance in this hour of need. In these notes, I hold evidence of the treason of Lady Katrana Prestor." I felt my heart skip a beat; accusing nobles of treason was not something one did lightly.

"We march to the palace to confront her, and to bring her to justice. You join me of your own free will, friends. Let the light be with us all."

He turned and drew his sword, sliding noiselessly out of it's well oiled sheath. "Walk with me!" 

We obeyed his command, our own weapons at the ready. The clouded sky, which had all day been threatening to rain, announced its arrival with a booming thunderclap and a flash of lightning.

We walked.

The streets were emptying quickly as people sought cover from the incipient downpour. The water ran down my neck and arms, quickly drenching my robes which clung to my body. A wind whipped through the city, moaning around the trees and houses, snatching warmth from drenched bodies. Rain drummed on roofs and cobblestones.

We walked.

Through the trade district, past the market square fountain, crossing a bridge which spanned one of the many canals in the city. I could see people peering out of windows at us, wondering why such a band of armed men and women were being allowed to roam loose in the city, and why they were being led by a man dressed in the uniform of the Stormwind guard.

We walked.

The entrance to the keep was blocked. The General of the Stormwind army sat atop his horse, impassive, flanked by twice as many men as we had. Windsor raised a hand for us to stop.

"On the orders of Lady Katrana Prestor, I am to detain you and your allies as criminals," said the general.
"Marcus," said Reginald,"Katrana Prestor is a traitor. Her words are as poison to this kingdom!"

The horse whinnied slightly. Rain pelted down, drumming off the steel of the city guard's armour.

"Reginald, you know I cannot let you past."

"You must do what you think is right, Marcus. We served together under Turalyon. He made us both the men that we are today. Did he err with me? Do you truly believe my intent is to cause harm to our Alliance? Would I shame our heroes?" He paused and took off his helmet, speaking in earnest, "Holding me here is not the right decision, Marcus."

 
The general did not reply for a while, appearing to be lost in contemplation.

 
"I am ashamed, old friend. I know not what I do anymore. It is not you that would dare bring shame to the heroes of legend - it is I. It is I and the rest of these corrupt politicians. They fill our lives with empty promises, unending lies," he paused, dealing with the weight of his realisation, "We shame our ancestors. We shame those lost to us... forgive me, Reginald."
"Dear friend, you honor them with your vigilant watch. You are steadfast in your allegiance. I do not doubt for a moment that you would not give as great a sacrifice for your people as any of the heroes you stand under. Now, it is time to bring her reign to and end, Marcus. Stand down, friend."

The general wheeled his horse to face his men, gesturing with his arms as he pulled his steed to one side. "Stand down! Move aside! Let them pass! Reginald Windsor is not to be harmed! He shall pass through untouched!"

Reginald Windsor bowed his head slightly, and donned his helmet. We followed him as he walked into the keep unchallenged.

 
"May the light guide your hands," said Marcus to us, as we passed him.

The path to the throne room was straight, albeit ascending three ramped levels.

"Onward!" shouted Windsor, who broke into a jog. We followed suit. Adrenaline coursed through my body; fear and excitement, and a dreadful sense of foreboding. Surprised servants and nobles scattered out of our way as we advanced up the keep.

We burst into the throne room, swords at the ready. The drapes and tapestries billowed as the outside wind howled up the main hall through the open keep door. I looked around the room, it was a large hexagonal chamber with guards lining the walls. Lady Prestor stood at the centre, along with a man I presumed was Bolvar Fordragon. The child king sat on a wooden throne which was far too big for him.

"Majesty, run while you still can. She is not what you think her to be...!" shouted Reginald, 
"To the safe hall, your majesty!" commanded Bolvar, directing the child king away from the imminent confrontation.

Reginald waited until the king had disappeared and the door had been barred, before he advanced on Lady Prestor, who stood with a slightly amused expression on her face. However, no trace of this reached her eyes, narrowed as they were into thin malevolent slits.

 
"The masquerade is over, Lady Prestor. Or should I call you by your true name... Onyxia...!"

The Lady laughed, a sound devoid of mirth, but very much full of malice. She pointed with her staff at the Marshal.

"You will be incarcerated and tried for treason, Windsor. I shall watch with glee as they hand down a guilty verdict and sentence you to death by hanging...and as your limp body dangles from the rafters, I shall take pleasure in knowing that a mad man has been put to death. After all, what proof do you have? Did you expect to come in here and point your fingers at royalty and leave unscathed?"

"You will not escape your fate, Onyxia. It has been prophesied - a resonating vision brought to me. It ends now..." said Reginald, bringing out his crumpled and wetted notes, "The Dark Iron Dwarves thought these notes to be encoded. This is not any form of coding, it is the tongue of ancient dragon!"

Lady Prestor looked slightly taken aback. Reginald continued.

"Listen, dragon. Let the truth resonate throughout these halls!"

He looked down at his notes and began to read. Suddenly, sounds began to flow through my consciousness, a subtle sibilance which suddenly shattered the illusion of the black haired woman in the red dress standing before me. I saw Bolvar Fordragon gasp in surprise.

 

Lady Prestor smiled, "I'm curious... Windsor, in this vision, did you survive? I only ask because one thing that I can and will assure is your death. Here and now."

Things happened very quickly. I felt an eruption of magic, as Lady Prestor revealed her true form. It knocked me over onto the floor. I heard the splintering of wood as she shattered the throne with her claws and then I sat up to see the dragon that was Onyxia. Her purple scaled wings nearly stretched from wall to wall, and her head was adorned with two sharp horns, she blinked her great reptilian eyes and lunged at Reginald, impaling him with one of her claws.

I scrambled to get out of the way as claws and tail swung around the room, cleaving chunks of rock from the wall. The great tapestries which decorated the throne room were instantly turned into shreds of cloth. Windsor lay in a bloody mess in one corner of the room, thrown by the force of the blow. I heard Bolvar shouting for the guards to seize Onyxia, and I heard Chaspal shouting for us to attack. 

There was hardly any space to move, and hemmed in such tight confines, Onyxia was more deadly than ever and her frenzy had put us into total disarray. She turned and slapped with her wings, clawed and bit and whipped. But she was surrounded, and could not help but surrender an opening; as her tail caught me square in the chest, knocking me to the floor, I saw Bolvar rush at her, raising his giant two handed claymore to pierce her exposed throat. I saw her blink, and then, she was gone, teleported away. He pierced air.

The sudden silence was somehow deafening. The force of the blow had left me struggling to breathe, spots clouded my vision as I tried to clear my head. I saw through the haze as Bolvar threw down his sword and ran over to Reginald, cradling his broken body.

"Reginald... I... I am sorry."
"Bolvar... the medallion... use..."

I saw Marshal Windsor's body go limp as his life left him, forever leaving the sentence incomplete. Chaspal came over and helped me climb, teetering, to my feet. I noticed a large rip in his leather jerkin, caked with blood that seemed to radiate a soft golden glow - the sign of heavy healing spell usage.

Bolvar stood, laying Reginald carefully onto the floor. He turned to address us, holding up in his hands an oddly shaped amulet. It was sharp edged, and was purple coloured and lined with gold.

"I believe this is the medallion Reginald spoke of. It was given to me as a gift by Onyxia, perhaps as a means of subduing me. Nevertheless, it has also allowed me to see where her lair lies - the Wyrmbog in Dustwallow marsh. She must be slain."

He looked at us expectantly.

"We'll do it," I said, the words leaping their way out of my mouth. I got a few stares from the other members.

Bolvar smiled. He then handed me the amulet, "This will allow you entry to her lair. I realise the true nature of this amulet now - it is one of her scales, and will nullify the magical wards that she has placed," he paused, and bowed to us. "Go with the blessings of the light. You are all truly heroes."

This quest line was one of the best ones in the game. Absolutely epic.

Memoires (Part 4 - 40 Brave Souls Required)

It was around mid-May 2005 when the first proper raiding efforts began to take off in the World of Warcraft. On servers all across the world, more players were hitting the maximum level, and guilds and alliances were preparing themselves to face the next level of challenge that the game offered. On my server, these efforts were spearheaded by a guild called Kindred, a guild who had aggressively recruited most of the hardcore players available, tempting them with fame and fortune. However, despite this, they were still lacking numbers to attempt the end game challenges.

Back in those days, four raids existed (a raid in WoW parlance was an encounter designed for 40 players, although that number has since been revised downwards to 25). There was the mighty blue dragon Azuregos, who resided in the sorrowful landscapes of Azshara, the demon lord Kazzak, who took refuge in the Blasted Lands, and two more (Onyxia and the Molten Core), which I shall cover in more detail next time!

The Revenants as a guild did not particularly have close links with Kindred - in fact, I was hardly aware of their existence and activities, being myself not that involved with the wider community beyond my own guild. However, I did remember passing by Kindred players every now and then in the population hubs of the game, and remembered noticing their generally excellent quality equipment and the fact the majority of them appeared to be level 60.

So then, it was perhaps rather by luck that I ended up being part of the first ever raiding attempt on our server, directed at taking down Azuregos the blue dragon. How did this happen? About two weeks previous, whilst I was still level 55, a group to a level 60 dungeon was being formed and they lacked a healer - this was not an uncommon occurence as healing classes are perhaps the least widely played in all MMO's, and good healers are especially hard to come by. The group was comprised of a few Revenants members, and a mage by the name of Krogh. I offered my services in our guild chat channel, despite my being 5 levels too low.

The group was rather desperate, and after a little convincing, decided to give it a shot with me as the healer. The dungeon in question was called Blackrock Depths - home to the clan of the Dark Iron Dwarves, a clan that would play some significance in events yet to come. Anyway, I realised that this was a chance for me to prove my skill, and I was completely stoked by the challenge on offer. It was an adrenaline packed run from start to finish. We managed to pull it off, although due to my low level it was hairy at times. After the success of this run, Krogh and I kept in touch - it was to his benefit, as good healers were hard to come by after all, and me...well, I was just happy to have another level 60 pal.

So, fast forwarding two weeks - I was busy minding my own business, running some solo quest or such, when I suddenly received a message from Krogh asking whether I was free to come on a raid. I jumped out of my skin at the opportunity. A few moments later, a request arrived from the raid leader of Kindred, inviting me to join his group.

The raid gathers

I hurriedly made my way halfway across the world, and joined the growing band of players who were gathering on a small hillock opposite the dragon. I could hardly believe what we were going to attempt, and the excitement was dizzying - I felt like a little child at the candy store.

It took awhile to gather everyone - Kindred had only about 25 people from their own guild, and so the remaining numbers were made up of friends, friends of friends and any other suitable level 60's that were online at the time.

So, how does a band of adventurers take down Azuregos?

First, a warrior was assigned as the main tank. He or she had the job of keeping the attention of Azuregos at all times, to avoid "squishy" classes (i.e. anyone who wasn't a warrior or a paladin) from being sliced and diced. The main tank role is a prestigious one, and is always occupied by the best and sharpest warrior the raid has to offer. Then, several healers were assigned to only heal the main tank - a dragon can deal a huge amount of damage, and it only takes six or seven hits to down a warrior which meant that a steady stream of healing was required.

Then, the rest of the healers and damage dealers were equally distributed in groups, with the premise being each group stuck with their healer so they could be kept alive.

Next, our raid leader, who was a night elf rogue going by the name of Gigamo, launched into the actual tactics for the fight. First up was Dragonslaying 101:

1. Don't stand in front of the dragon. Dragon breath is not conducive to staying alive.
2. Don't stand behind the dragon. Dragon tail is not conducive to staying alive either.

Next, came Azuregos' special abilities. There was a periodically used teleport which placed all players within 30 yards underneath him, and which also reset everyone's threat levels. This essentially meant that after the teleport, everyone had to stop all spell casting or attacking until the main tank had established himself as the primary threat to Azuregos and brought the dragon under control. Also, there was a spell shield that Azuregos would periodically cast, which reflected all spells aimed at Azuregos back at the caster.

Armed with this knowledge, we readied ourselves, and finally, after an hour or so of preparation, launched our first attack on the mighty beast, and...very quickly we died. The damage output from the dragon was overwhelming, and when he teleported, some people stood out of range of the 30 yards, which meant that their threat was not wiped. This resulted in Azuregos chasing after them, leading the whole raid on a wild trip through the Azsharan hillsides. Also, some mages were apparently blind to when the spell shield was up, and killed themselves with their own fireballs, much to their embarassment.

Anyhow, we recovered our corpses, healed ourselves up, and tried again, and again, and again. Each time, we got his health a little lower. Each time, everything felt a little bit smoother and less frenetic; the teleports, which at first were completely disorientating and often lead people running right out in front of Azuregos' jaws (leading to their quick deaths), began to seem like second nature, the mages figured out that being hit by their own fireballs was no fun, and there was a sense of cohesiveness building despite the completely disparate group that had been drawn together from five or six guilds.

Before I knew it, three hours had passed, and although we had not managed to slay him, the group vowed to try again at the same time on the morrow (luckily it was a weekend). We returned on the Sunday refreshed and raring to go, and it was only a matter of time before he fell - the first raid boss to be killed on our server.

I was immensely happy that day; it was truly an awesome feeling. It was the scale of things that got me: 40 players is a large team - the size of a small company even, and to organise and direct such a disparate range of characters and personalities to fulfill highly specialised roles and to co-operate in unison for a fight that lasted well over 20 minutes seemed to me to be a huge accomplishment.

And, it just felt right - the army of brave heroes vanquishing the dragon? Absolutely epic. I wanted more.

I got in touch with the Kindred raid leaders, and let them know that I was eager to come on any other raids that they were planning to hold in the future, and thus I became part of the Kindred and co raiding group, along with several other members of the Revenants. The future as I saw it looked bright (but not orange).

It's a shame we killed Azuregos, he had quite the sense of humour. If I ever had to take a dragon to the pub, he would've been my choice.

Well...that's good to know...anyhow, 'til next time!

Memoires (Part 3 - Halcyon Days)

The Deadmines

The five of us crouched behind a large boulder and peered across the enormous cavern. Giant stalactites hung from the ceiling, over a large pool of water which shimmered from the reflected light of the torches.

A pier jutted out from the crinkled grey rock that made up the shore, the wooden planks and supports jutting at odd angles showing the signs of hasty construction. It lead to a ship the likes of which I had never seen before: an ugly and grotesque war machine. Cannons jutted from every available orifice, which bulged out of the ship like tumours. It rocked slowly on the water, appearing rather unstable.

I turned and sat down, with my back against the cool rock, sucking in the damp musty air deeply. I looked at the trail of destruction we had left through the heart of Edwin Van Cleef's base. Hidden under the human village of Moonbrook, it had served as the headquarters for the Defias Brotherhood. The officials at Stormwind City, the capital of the human empire, had finally had enough, and we were to be the tools of their wrath.

I adjusted the bandage on my right arm, which covered a small wound where I had been nicked by a sword, and looked at my companions. Four there were; immediately to my left was Chaspal, a calculating look crossed his usually stony features, to his left was Aldassia, another Night Elf rogue, who was busy applying fresh poison to her daggers. On my right was crouched Zacker, the human warrior who had dragged us all into this. She was crouched rather uncomfortably - understandable, given the thick metal armour that she wore. Beside her was the final member of our party - Lochraine, he was a paladin, a knight of the Order of the Silver Hand, and was dedicated to following the creed of the Holy Light. He sat with head bowed, evidently murmuring a blessing.

Needless to say, the last week since I had joined the Revenants had been an eventful one. Barely had I become settled in Auberdine had I been whisked halfway across the world by the needs of the Guild, and now, I was sat with dirtied robes, facing the prospect of storming Edwin Van Cleef's ship, which seemed to me to be all but impregnable, given the array of cannons on show.

The story of Van Cleef was a sad one. He was a genius architect, and was one of the chief Stonemasons responsible for the reconstruction of Stormwind City after it was razed in the Second War. However, after ten years of arduous labour, culminating in a grand new capital for the human empire, the House of Nobles refused to pay the Stonemasons for their work. Van Cleef was enraged and felt betrayed, and thus he took those workers who felt the same and left the city and formed the Defias Brotherhood. 

He rallied looters, rebels and malcontents to his cause; the ultimate goal of being to get the money that he felt he rightly deserved. His men began to waylay merchants bringing goods to Stormwind, and pillaged the local villages which supplied the capital with food. They began to terrorise the local countryside, and the limited resources of the still recovering city guard meant that they could not be dealt with. He quickly crossed the line where no reconciliation with the authorities would have been possible, and thus, the order was sent out to bring about his assasination.

"What's the plan boss?" asked Zacker.
"From what info we've been told, Van Cleef keeps a company of around twenty men," replied Chaspal.
"So add the six that are on the pier, twenty six," said Aldassia, who carefully tucked her poison powder away in a sealed pouch.
"Twenty six, we can take 'em, come on!" said Zacker, rather to my alarm.

The two rogues exchanged a glance. Zacker rolled her eyes.

"Enough with the sneaking about already! I can't swim in this armour, and the two of you can't take down that ship. There's only one way in."

Chaspal shrugged. He drew his weapons. "Ready?"

We all nodded affirmative. Zacker stepped out from behind the boulder, armoured boots clinking against the stone floor. She let out a cry of war, and charged at the nearest Defias member on the pier, a mere ten metres away. It was here that I learned that Zacker had no sense of self-preservation, perhaps aided by the fact that she was cocooned in metal. I however, in my cloth robe, felt decidedly more vulnerable.

"Shield!" I muttered, invoking the Power Word as I ran several steps behind Zacker, forming a shield around her charging form. She barrelled into the first Defias member, who had barely had time to shout an alarm and was bowled over and then quickly run through with a sword. The rogues loosed throwing knives, which found their mark in the throats of two more Defias.

We ran up the pier. The wooden planking creaked under our crashing steps, my heart hammered in my chest as alerted Defias Brotherhood members began pouring off the ship and onto the pier. I saw an archer draw.

"Pain!" I shouted, invoking another Power Word. I could feel the summoned energy leave me and enter the target of the spell, could almost see his nerves being ripped apart by shadowy hands. He collapsed on the deck of the ship, screaming in agony.

We met Van Cleef's men at the end of the pier, Zacker, letting out a blood curdling screech, threw herself into the line of enemies. My shield deflected the first of their sword thrusts as she began to hack at the throng of Defias members. Lochraine was next to barrel into combat, his mighty war hammer swinging, crushing through armour and flesh alike, crunching through armour with the sound of tortured steel and flesh with the mush of crushed bone. The two rogues opted for a more graceful style of combat, slipping through the fighting throng like liquid steel, stabbing and slicing with precise abandon.

I skirted around the edges of the bloodbath, my mind becoming finely attuned to the state of my companion's wellbeing. It was an intimate connection, as I could feel the ebb and flow of the energy within them - could feel the burn of their exertion, and an odd disconnected pain as they were injured. I drew upon my inner pool of mana, healing energy shimmering a kaleidoscope of blues and purples around my hands as I kept my fellow fighters on their feet.

The bloody brawl was over in less than a minute. Van Cleef's men lay now as corpses. Their blood coated the five of us and was soaking into the wooden supports of the pier, dripping through to form clouds of red in the otherwise pristine water below.

"Van Cleef!" shouted Zacker, walking up the gangplank, "Show yourself!" Her voice echoed around the cavern.

We followed her cautiously onto the deck of the ship, walking slowly, as our footwear were slippery with blood.

A door swung open, slamming on it's hinges. Van Cleef appeared, clad in the brown leathers, with the signature red bandana of the Defias Brotherhood tied over his mouth.

"He's mine!" growled Zacker, motioning for us to stand back, her voice laden with emotion and intensity.

Van Cleef took a look at the pile of corpses that were once his men, he snorted.

"Worthless. Come then, young warrior. Show your strength to me!"

Zacker leapt at him recklessly. Van Cleef side stepped and swung his cutlass, it glanced off Zacker's armour, a fraction above the vulnerable hip joint, where a small gap existed.

I stepped forward, but Chaspal held out his hand to stop me.

The clash of their swords settled into a sequence of rhythmic rings, as each tried to out-manouevre the other. We watched on, intently. I could feel the tenseness in my companions. Suddenly, Zacker slipped and fell to one side, undone by the blood on her boots and the wet deck. Van Cleef rushed towards her, sensing his opportunity, his cutlass stabbing for her throat. She dropped to one knee, letting her sword fall onto the deck and grabbed a small dagger sheathed in her belt. She twisted to avoid the point of Van Cleef's sword, and in one brutal jerk shoved her own weapon deep into his chest. He fell sideways onto the wooden deck, breaths coming in gasps and gurgles.

Zacker leapt to her feet, grabbed her sword and without a moment's hesitation beheaded him. Blood gushed out of his body as his faltering heart pumped in vain, and then, the gushing slowed to a trickle, and stopped. She held up his head by the hair, his face was a mask of pain. Her expression was indistinguishable behind the visor of her helmet, but I thought I saw tears.

"Time to leave," said Chaspal, after a moment's silence.

We picked up what loot we thought would be useful for the Guild and departed.

Later, I would learn that the Defias Brotherhood were responsible for the death of Zacker's family, sparing no one as they raided an isolated farm in the Westfall. It made me happy that she was able to exact her revenge.

"Not now Mum, I'm busy!"

This was a phrase that was beginning to be heard more and more in the Zhao household as I began to sink my teeth deeper into the World of Warcraft, and as my career as a priest moved on from simple solo questing to dungeon running.

"Can't you pause?" would come the inevitable question.
"No!" would come the reply, flung distractedly as I battled to keep my party alive in whatever dungeon we were in.

I think this fundamental co-operative aspect of MMORPG's is something that is misunderstood by a lot of people, in lieu of their views that "it's just another game". Most dungeons require multiple players, five in World of Warcraft's case, and not just any five would do.

The game system was designed around the concept of having a "tank", which was a party member that had a lot of health and defences that could survive damage from the enemies, a healer, who would be able to keep the tank alive, and the damage dealers, who would in turn kill the enemies.

It sounds simple in concept but in reality, executing a flawless dungeon run wasn't easy - if the tank wasn't good enough, then he/she would be unable to keep the enemies focused on themselves and they would start attacking other party members, then suddenly the healer's job becomes impossible - people would start dying and eventually, the whole party fails (known in MMO parlance as a wipe). Alternatively, if the healer was inadequate, then the tank would die, and thus the party would wipe, or, if the damage dealing wasn't sufficient, then the healer would run out of mana and could no longer cast healing spells, which then meant the tank would die and would again lead to a wipe.

Why is this important to know? Because this was the system that the players were trying to beat. Blizzard were crafty game designers, and they made each pack of enemies in each dungeon challenging (and the bosses especially so) so that the party would have to play in a very co-operative fashion in order to succeed, and this leads me back to the original point - "Not now Mum, I'm busy!", because if I stopped and didn't concentrate, then the party I was responsible for healing would wipe. Not a huge deal, some would say, and I would agree if it was a single player game, but, when you've four other players with you who are working well together, there is a team atmosphere, and good team members don't let each other down.

The Revenants were a guild who definitely made a good team and it felt awesome to be a part of that, and probably because of that reason, I made it my mission to be the best priest I could possibly be.

The levels flashed by as our guild slowly grew in size, from the initial seven member strong force to more than twenty members in the space of a few weeks, however the core group stayed more or less the same, and a really stable and strong family-like atmosphere developed amongst the members. My habits in real life began to slowly change too, as I became more and more immersed in the game - apart from playing Badminton, going to school and the occasional party, this was pretty much the only other thing I did.

Somewhere along the way, I was promoted to being a Guild officer, and I was eager to contribute, helping to set up our first website and forums, evaluating new recruits and generally planning the future steps of the guild.

That period of the game holds quite a few good memories: some funny incidents from dungeon runs, where we wiped in spectacular fashion, the feeling of being part of a close-knit, like-minded group of people and the feeling of being part of a game which was revolutionising the industry as a whole with it's spectacular success, and the looking forward to the next challenge, the next level, the next cool spell, the next awesome quest, the next dungeon, the next evening spent just chilling out and chatting about anything and everything with fellow guildies, who hailed from all around the world.

Before I knew it, I had hit the maximum level, and had my eyes firmly set on the next step of progression within the game: Raids.