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.

Two Things

...well...one thing and one list really, or, if you really want to break it down, one thing and a list of four things, making five things, but let's not get too picky here. Things.

So, yesterday at 10:30am, I walked out of the last Cambridge exam that I will ever have to do in my life (barring any unhappy accident whereby I end up doing a PhD). Although you'd think this would be occasion for much celebration and alcohol abuse of the highest order, this particular Cambridge degree has the sting in the tail of a behemoth of a project write up to it (my estimated report will be ~16000 words and 50 pages long), which means that the end of exams isn't really the end, unfortunately.

Putting that to one side though, it is quite a relief to be done with exams at least. I've worked very hard; the final push for the final exams for the final year of my degree, and hopefully the results will reflect that. It was amusing in a way to read back on some of my old blog posts, posted in the face of impending A-Levels, where I was lamenting the amount of work I had to do. I can scarcely imagine what my past self would have been like had he been witness to the weeks of library sessions that I did this time round.

Anyway, I worked hard, and I'm proud of it.

Obviously, a lot of this time was spent in the library, and although extended stints of the library are not something that is new to me, it's the first time that I've found some things that consistently annoyed me during my study sessions (I must be getting old).

Because of this, I've put together a list of four things that made me irate in the library:

1) People who talk directly outside the library windows. No, they aren't soundproof (design fail), yes, I can hear you. And yes, it is bloody annoying when I'm trying to do math and all I can hear is someone lamenting how drunk they were the previous night.

2) Keyboard Pianists. There are computers provided in the quiet areas so you can look stuff up on the internet. This does not mean writing an essay on them, or using them to fire off long-ass e-mails every five minutes (go to the computer room to do that, seriously...). I mean, the fact that they've even been fitted with extra quiet keyboards does not seem to have registered with these wanton scoundrels, who fill the entire room with the incessant drumming of their keyboard keys. It was like having a swarm of flies hitting me in the head with tiny hammers.

3) Rhythmic Sniffling. You know the sort, someone obviously has a bit of a runny nose, but instead of using tissue to sort it out, they instead rely on the big sniff. Unbelievably distracting as, of course, it is not a one time event. In fact, I have realised that sniffs occur with great regularity and at quite a well defined period, dependant on the amplitude of the previous sniff. This made it hard to concentrate because I was always expectantly looking forward to when the next sniff would occur, and when it inevitably did, whatever chain of thought I had was inevitably broken by a raging desire to shout at the offender to blow their effing nose.

4) Darth Vader Syndrome. These people obviously haven't had their legs chopped off by a lightsaber and then set on fire by a nearby lava flow before being put in a suit with an assisted breathing device, so why the hell do they sound like they have? During the last few days before exams, I shared a study room with one of this kind. "You will not pass Tripos," his breaths intoned, with a touch of sith-like sibilance. Well, not with you sounding like an ox with asthma I won't.

On Hiatus!

I know you're all obviously chomping at the bit (hah) for the next part of the adventures of Lyara and her player through the World of Warcraft, but unfortunately, real life has gotten in the way (much like it gets in the way when you're actually playing the game).

Due to impending exams beginning on April 29th, stretching to a project report hand-in on June 1st, I will be pretty busy over the coming month and a bit (see: understatement), and thus will not have enough time to put together any new posts.

Never fear though, once this period is over, I shall be back and continuing the story!

In the meantime, why not content yourselves with some internet cookies?


p.s. I have no idea how to solve this.

Memoires (Part 2 - Guildification)

"Who we choose to be around us defines who we are."

Guild Crest - Most Wanted Postals

Due to the inherent social nature of MMO's, all games offer a formal system to create organisations of players, these go under various names - Clans, Corporations, or in World of Warcraft's case, Guilds.

Guilds allow players to band together under one banner, to provide aid to each other in the form of shared expertise, shared resources and also familiar faces to group with in order to advance through the harder content in a game.

Naturally, Guilds vary in size, attitude and purpose. Some are just social affairs - essentially there to provide a private chat channel for a group of friends and unite them under a funny name, others are a whole lot more well organised and serious in nature, with strict screening processes for new members, a clear vision and goal and well defined roles for the members to fulfill (i.e. someone who has learnt Alchemy will be obliged to provide free potions for the guild to use, in return for this they are able to use ingredients gathered by other guild members free of charge to help advance their skill in that profession).

Guilds that managed to establish themselves as the top dogs on each server stood essentially at the pinnacle of the social ladder, and were (in general) accorded respect and admiration for their accomplishments by the rest of the player base.

At the time, I had no idea about any of that - but some way through level 13, I felt that I should start looking around for a guild. It would make progressing through the game easier, and I felt that it would be fun to have a regular bunch of people to play with as well, instead of the solo game I had enjoyed up until then.

Auberdine - artist's impression.

I had spent about a week based in Auberdine at that point. It was rather depressing. There was always an air of melancholy hanging over the small town and the surrounding forests - no doubt driven by the proliferation of fel wildlife and malcontent spirits lurking in the mists. Even the sun seemed to abandon it's duties in this land; it's rays weak and wanting.

I sighed as I arose from bed, the ninth day now. The serenity of Teldrassil had become nothing but a distant memory now, pushed to the corners of my mind by days filled with exploratory quests - more often than not ending up in fierce combat against wayward spirits or the enraged and diseased animals that still called this blighted shore their home.

I pulled on my garments - a simple cloth tunic and pants, dirtied and ripped, along with a comfortable pair of well made cloth boots that had been my latest purchase. I fastened my belt - tough hide which was now fast falling apart under heavy use, and girdled my trusty mace. A parting glance as I headed for the door revealed that in the short time I'd been here I'd managed to make a thorough mess of the tiny room I stayed in; stacks of paper parchments were scattered all over the desk, empty potion flasks rolled around on the wooden floor and a pile of dirty laundry sat in the corner, growing larger by the day.

Didn't know you were such a slouch!

Not compared to you I'm not!

Touché.

Anyway...

It was on that day I met Chaspal. A meeting dictated by chance more than anything. I was walking through the town centre of Auberdine, out towards the ruins of Ameth'Aran, when suddenly a voice called out from behind me.

"You! You're a Priestess right?"

I turned to face the stranger. In my travels, I've met a lot of rogues, and in my experience they generally fall into two classes; the rogue-ish sort, who love to tell a good tale and enjoy some friendly riposte before attempting to pickpocket you, and the other, assassin, sort. Silent but deadly. You know...the stare at you then stab you whilst you weren't paying attention type (and then they would pickpocket your corpse, although strictly that's probably better classified as looting).

I looked up at his unsmiling face, and immediately put him into the latter category.

"I need some support down south, there's a Furbolg tribe which could potentially give Auberdine a lot of trouble. Come?"

I didn't really have anything better to do, so I agreed.

So, yes, I did indeed meet this Rogue called Chaspal in Auberdine. I remember he was maybe four or five levels higher at that point, but struggling with a quest (if memory serves me right).

We ended up grouping, and he must have taken a shine to me as a healer because we ended up doing several quests together (or so I remember). They were of the rather trivial sort, i.e. collect 5 bear asses, then go kill 5 monkeys etc, so having someone to chat to definitely made it more enjoyable. He also seemed like quite a friendly bloke, despite what Lyara says.

I also noticed that Chaspal was part of a Guild called The Revenants - in fact, he was the Guild Master. It was a pretty good name, or so I thought, so I decided to ask him whether I could join.

He had a think, then told me that although they needed healers, I was a bit low level. He said that I should get to level 15 and then talk to him again before logging off. At this point, I was pretty determined to join, and so I set my nose to the grindstone and began questing like mad.

Thankfully, it was the weekend, so I ended up playing all day, and the next time I bumped into him I was level 18.

I could imagine him nodding approval as he extended a guild invite. As I was about to accept it, I realised that I knew absolutely nothing about the guild apart from the name, and Chaspal. For all I knew, they could have been a guild of LBGT roleplayers (such guilds do exist!). Still, what the hey, I thought, and clicked the "Accept" button.

"Lyara has joined the Guild." popped up a little message on my chat box.

Several "His" and "Welcomes" came in from various other guild members who were online. It turned out that I had joined an exceedingly small guild, with only 7 members (me included). Of these, six were officers. It turns out I was the first fully fledged member to join.

I learnt quickly that the officers in the guild had met in the beta test, and were so enamoured with each other that they'd decided to stick it out in the release of the game. That sounded pretty cool to me.

What was also cool to me was I was now a member of a guild. It was like I now belonged somewhere - I had a flag to fight for.

Auberdine pier

We stood on the pier in the late afternoon - the sun, having given it's token effort for the day, was well on it's way back down to the horizon. Waves lapped softly at the supports, slapping them gently and rhythmically. Rows of elven lanterns hung from graceful supports, shimmering pale blue.

"So, is there some sort of ceremony?" I asked.

"No," he replied, communicating amusement with the slight upturn of one corner of his mouth; Chaspal was an elf who's speech was as pointed as his weapons.

"Here." He tossed me a small wooden badge, emblazoned with the guild crest - a droplet of water surrounded by ripples. "Congratulations, you're now a member of The Revenants."

And so, sometime during the late afternoon, on the tenth day after I'd left Teldrassil, between the second and third lanterns on that pier, I became a Revenant.

I've often looked back on that point and wondered how things would have been had I said no to his request for my aid; it seemed like it was by pure chance that I accepted his proposition. But as I reminisce now, it has come to my realisation that fate often plays it's hand under the guise of coincidence, and in the grip of destiny, we have less choice in matters than we think.

Memoires (Part 1 - Humble Beginnings)

February 12th, 2005, one day after the official release of the game, it began...



As someone who had played other Warcraft games before, I was familiar with the fantasy world which Blizzard had created, and the thought of being able to participate actively in it was an exciting one indeed. If you've ever read a good book or saw a movie and thought to yourself: "Damn, wish I could spend some time in that world." then you know the sort of feeling I had, and so you can imagine the gleeful anticipation that came with the granting of said wish.

Are you ever going to introduce me?!

Shh...hey...I was getting around to it.

No you weren't, you were just rambling as always, and what is it with you and all the dramatic tendancies; I mean, "Gaping maws of blackness..." really? If you could see me, I'd be rolling my eyes and flicking my hair in a disdainful fashion.

Er...

Oh, for Elune's sake, I'll introduce myself then. I'm Lyara, the Night Elf Priestess that this here person/douchefag created on the Dragonblight server.

Name calling already? You've only been on this blog for 6 lines!

Well, you're the guy who gave me a name which translates into Gnomish as "Weird", so suck it. Also, why is my text in this stupid red colour? I don't like it.

...pick a colour then, and we'll carry on with the story.

Yay! 

Really?

Kidding! I'll go with this one, it's the colour of my hair. ^^

I had to put up with this for two years...

Go on then, take it away.

Teldrassil, the home of the few remaining Night Elves. 

Up until that point, a sheltered life amidst the eternal dusk of the forest floor was all I had known, but when I enrolled as a Priestess of Elune, my life changed. The tasks I was given were simple at first - culling the local wildlife to preserve the balance of the ecosystem, investigating taints, collecting herbs and so forth. However, I progressed quickly in strength and magical aptitude through devoting my spare time to the study of spells from all the disciplines of priesthood and the training of my body and mind.

It wasn't long before the serving Priestess at Aldrassil recognised my talents, and sent me onwards towards the town of Dolanaar, where it seemed my services were more required than ever. It seemed that the fel taint had suddenly sprung up in all sorts of places, and the Furbolgs were driven mad by it. 

I remember being sent to the village of Starbreeze to investigate - what seemed to be a simple task turned into carnage as the Furbolgs attacked. The guardian Sentinels were too far away to lend aid in time, and I...arrived to see innocents being cut down and the village pillaged and torched for all it was worth. Compared to the trials I have been through since, perhaps this is small, but this was the first time I had witnessed such devastation, and forever this will be etched into my memory.

So, it turned out that after some investigation, the Chieftan of their tribe had been corrupted by some Fel Moss. He was beyond saving, unfortunately, so I was sent to dispatch him. He came at me, a flailing, insane mass of limbs and fur, and I, no longer a stranger to combat at the point, sidestepped his attacks with ease and put him down in as humane a fashion as I could.

After that, I was sent to Darnassus, the capital, where I was received in the Temple of Elune and commended on my achievements. I was even allowed to pray beneath the statue of Elune, albeit briefly. The senior Priestesses told me that I had potential, and to further my training, I would be sent away from Teldrassil, onto the continent of Kalimdor.

I had come of age in the Night Elf hierarchy, and thus, travel was to be expected. However, the thought of leaving all I had known behind weighed heavy on my mind. I stood for an age at the docks of Rut'Theran village - the port town of Teldrassil, and stared across the grey seas. The waves crashed without purpose against the roots of our great tree, the deep rhythmic booms interrupted by the chittering of the hippogryphs in their stables. A sudden determination gripped me; I wouldn't be like those waves, breaking fruitlessly against an unyielding shore. I felt a calling, a drive, something...urging me forward to a destiny as yet unknown to me, but it was a good feeling, to have a sense of purpose in one's life.

Hey, that was surprisingly good. I was expecting snarky comments and an exceedingly blunt account of things.

Not bad for being a bunch of pixels, a few kilobytes of data and a figment of your imagination, right?

To be honest though, after all that, you can hardly criticise me for my dramatic tendancies.

I can be a hypocrite, I don't care...you whiny girl.

...

So anyway, this was pretty much the first ten or so levels of my time in WoW, which were spent questing around the Teldrassil area. It was a really exciting time of the game, when everything was new and fresh - there was a feeling of limitless possibility.

Because I'd started a day later than everyone else who had bought the game on launch day, the starter areas wasn't too cramped, but there were still enough people around so that the area-wide chat was lively and populated. The general atmosphere was one of marvel, as people communicated their delight at discovering new things as they progressed through the first few levels of their characters.

The art direction was great - even though the graphics weren't cutting edge at the time, there was a cohesiveness and a certain stylism to the look they had gone for, and everything fitted together well - Darnassus especially was a memorable place, with it's graceful marbled architecture, intertwined, as most elvish dwellings are, with nature. Slender bridges connected the various sections of the city together, spanning over a central lake. The ambient sound of water was everpresent, as were the quiet jinglings of the wisps (elvish spirits) which populated the place.

God those wisps were annoying. They'd never move out of the way and if you tried to walk through one you'd never hear the end of it...they'd just follow you around and jingle at you. Blasted things.

Darnassus

The core gameplay mechanics were simple to learn, and everything was well explained. The quests were also well constructed and had an overall narrative, which made the various tasks such as collecting x number of plants seem meaningful. To be honest though, this was all within expectations.

The point at which this game really grabbed my attention though, was the first hippogryph ride away from Teldrassil. Normally, when you take a form of transportation within a game, it goes to a loading screen and then you arrive at your destination (unless you're playing a game like Gran Turismo, where it would then probably defeat the purpose of it...but I digress).

Not so here.

I clicked on the hippogryph, and what happened next literally took my breath away, as Lyara mounted the beast and it proceeded to take off, flying over the sea towards the continent of Kalimdor. Perhaps it just because it was in absolute defiance of my expectations, but that moment really opened my eyes to the fact that there was a world there. I mean, it was virtual, but at the same time, it felt real...if you know what I mean.

That was cool.

I looked around one last time before taking the last of my silvers and giving it to the hippogryph master. He directed me to one of his steeds. It croaked and bore me upwards with great thrusts of green feathered wings. Soon I was high aloft and over nothing but sea. The cold wind bit into my face, and I grasped the hippogryph tightly, not wanting to be thrown off. 

Behind me, all that I had ever known receded slowly into the greyness of a clouded day, and in front, lay my future, whatever that was to be.