Chocoa

A fond greetings, Crushers! It has been awhile since we last spoke. I just wanted to pop in and say that we (Revile and I) miss you guys and that we hope everything is going well (Azeroth and Earth ). -Chocoa, 70 Warlord.

The dark figure was practically invisible to the untrained eye. He was hidden amongst the shadows in the alley. He stooped over a small pack which he handled gingerly. From the pack he withdrew a piece of cloth, which he used to cover his nose and mouth with. He then took out a pair of leather gloves which he placed over his hands. With a deep breath he withdrew two vials from the pack. One was the color of a sapphire, rich blue with wisps of purple. The second was a dull grey. He uncorked the first vial and carefully poured three small drops of the blue liquid. He then repeated the process with the grey liquid. The two liquids fizzed then glowed a faint orange. The mixture was complete. The dark figure replced the vials, the cloth mask and the gloves into the small pack and closed it. He stood briefly looked about him with skilled eyes, and then completely vanished from sight. * * * * * "NO! Its your turn to pay for them to fix my armor," snorted Chocoa "the whole 'we got this, just keep him off me a second' thing isn't working. Next time, you keep lizard-breath busy and ill mutter nonsense and throw twigs at it." Revile chuckled to himself, "alright, but you buy the drinks tonight." Chocoa had walked himself into a trap, the cunning orc had manipulated him into buying the "drinks" for the night. Any creature with a brain the size of a peanut knows of an orc's thirst. They could drink the paint off the planks of the cask holding ale. Chocoa grunted angrily, "Fine." He removed his dented breastplate and helmit, handing them to Revile. "Make sure that only Virika works on this. The new guy is horrible." Chocoa stated flatly. Revile took the armor and headed off for the nearest repair shop. Chocoa surveyed the area. The smells were not like his home Thunderbluff, but it was as much a home to him as anywhere else. Orgrimmar had never looked so inviting after the last adventure the duo had been on. They had ventured a little to deep into the seedy under realm in Booty Bay. Taking a quest that would pay handsomly, the two set off to find a brigand by the name of Birch McGrath. A human who swore no alliegiance to either faction and would facilitate trades between the Horde and the Alliance. The mission was a simple one. Acquire McGrath's ledger with the names of the middlemen he used to facilitate the trades and bring it back to an individual who identified himself as Sarco. It was way to easy and the two prided themselves on a job well done as they walked away with two pouches full of precious stones. Chocoa breathed in the air one more time and then turned to find The Singing Orc tavern. He was hungry, thirsty and tired. A little food and entertainment was most welcomed. * * * * * The dark figure stalked the rooftops moving with the agility of a panther. He kneeled at the edge of the roof to find his target. The city was a large one. Red rocks and cobbled roads were the earth upon which Orcs, Trolls, Tauren and the Forsaken conducted their business and pleasure. The figured snarled a thin lip and then his face became blank. His target was where he was supposed to be. The figure jumped from the rooftop without making a sound, he blended into the shadows until again he was invisible. * * * * * Chocoa walked toward the tavern when a figured moved in the corner of his eyes. Put on alert, the tall bull became vigilant of his sorroundings. Again the figured moved in the corner of his eyes. Chocoa loosed a blade from his scabbard and drew it. He relaxed when he saw a young troll run from an alley having been discovered. "Rogues..." Chocoa whispered under his breath. He walked through the front door of the tavern and replaced the blade. Tonight was about rest and relaxation. The old Troll bartender made his way over to the bull, "even'in mon... wheres your bruda?" "Hes coming, keep them coming... and we'll have whatever is cooking in the back... as long as its not beef." The Tauren smiled. "No problem!" the Troll exclaimed then walked back. Revile walked in a few minutes later and were joined by some of the Clan. Tonight would be a night to remember indeed. * * * * * "Goodnight it is then brother." a drunken Chocoa exclaimed. Revile, appearing more sober but clearly not replied with a grunt and a nod. Revile stumbled off into the darkness to find his house or a nice warm gutter to sleep in, whichever came first. Chocoa grabbed his pack and took off to the flightmaster to catch a ride back to Thunderbluff. A shadow crossed his path drawing a peering look from Chocoa. A sudden movement to the left cause Chocoa's attention and he jumped, weapon at the ready. "Meeeeeeeow!" the cat clearly caught off guard by the sudden movement of the mighty Tauren. Chocoa chuckled to himself as he turned back on his path back to the flightmaster. An explosion of pain hit Chocoa like a horse at full speed as a fiery blade entered his abdomen. His face contorted as the strength was immediately sapped from him. His knees buckles and he fell trying to free the venomous blade from his stomach. He could not feel his hand or legs now as darkness inched its way up his spine. "Tell Lady Aveena, I send my regards." the voice melodically stated. Chocoa fought the darkness as light flashed before his eyes, was this what death felt like? The dark figure stepped into Chocoa's line of sight and threw back his cowl revealing golden skin unlike Chocoa had ever seen. His eyes were bright green like Jade, and his ears arced and pointed beyond that of any creature save one, the Elves. The rumors of the return of the blood elves to Azeroth were heard by many, but their end game was not known. The elf stooped over the fallen Tauren and whispered in his ear before darkness had overcome him... "You are not prepared." The images of friends and family left behind, relationships ended, regrets remembered and images forgotten. The Old Bull smiled as he remembered the fond memories he shared with the Clan, his friends and allies. He whispered a single word into the air and prayed to the gods to carry it forward to all those who he would leave behind. Goodbye. The light was replaced with darkness and cold as the Bull succumbed to the pain. ----------------------------------------- It was great to be a part of this Clan, and to take part in the many adventures we all had together. I really felt like you guys were a family inside of WoW and it is with great sadness that I say goodbye to you all as me and my brother leave for the Sisters of Elune server. I wish you all great triumph over future and present endeavors, prosperity and success. For the time being I will be leaving Evangelina (with your permission) in the Clan so that if I get lonely I can come back and partake in some adventures with you all. Goodbye! - Chocoa

< Pull out burning stick > Gooooood beeears... gooood beeeears... fetch?! <GROWL> no, okay... umm wanna eat my friend?

The Battlemaster rubbed his calloused hand across the leather hilt of his finely sharpened blade. Years of war, skirmishes, and minor conflicts at the Crossroad of the Barrens have left his body hardened and instinct keen. The corded muscles of his forearms tensed out of reflex when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He need not turn around to recognize the gait. Heavy step, swift gait, leather scabbard rhythimically hitting chained leggings. "Greetings Isih, nice of you to join us." stated the Battlemaster. "Im... im... sorry Gre... I mean SIR!." stammered Isih, a wisp of an Orc compared to the Battlemaster. "Unexcusable." the Battlemaster nodded at the other soldiers who pulled out wooded weapons who pounced on the young Orc. They had beaten him for over 45 seconds until the Battlemaster grunted, at which point they stopped. The Battlemaster snarled his lip at the sight of the young Orc's blood, "Stand up... STAND UP." The young Orc Isih, rose slowly. One hand covered his broken nose, the other held his ribs." The Battlemaster softened his features, in sympathy he responded, "Oh my, I think the group disciplined you too hard, do you need a healer?" The young Orc, barely 10 seasons nodded. The Battlemaster turned and delivered a painful backfist to the Orcs face, "you are weak, no food for the rest of the day" he looked at rest of the soldiers "for any of you." The other soldiers looked at Isih with contempt. Soldiers was an interesting phrase to describe the group, the oldest being 11 seasons and the youngest being 9 seasons. This was the way of the warrior. * * * * * "Hold your weapon tight, but not too tight. Your weapon is a part of you, lose it and you die... have it used against you and you die." the Battlemaster grabbed a wood board, shaped like a sword and approached each of the soldiers one by one. He approached the first soldier, studied his posture then with one strike of the blade he disarmed the soldier and followed the disarm with a strike to the soldiers throat causing him to fall to the ground gasping for air. "you are dead" the Battlemaster uttered as he approached the second soldier. Seeing the white of the second soldiers knuckles, he struck mid blade forcing the weapon back. The soldier compensated for the sudden backward force with a step forward allowing the battlemaster to loop the blade downward rendering the guard useless. The battlemaster kicked the soldiers swordhand and brought his own wooded blade down hard upon his forearm. "You have lost your arm and will probably be dead in minutes, if you arent killed outright" the Battlemaster plainly stated. He approached the third soldier, the young Orc Isih. It had been months since the Battlemaster had first seen Isih and ordered him disciplined by his peers. The young Orc had grown but a fingers length and has only marginally developed muscle growth. The Battlemaster scrutinized the Orcs stance then suddenly rushed him delivering a would be fatal blow had the orc not quickly lifted his guard. The young Orc exposed his midsection which The Battlemaster exploited. He punched the Orc in the stomach, winding him then struck with his sword hitting the warrior on the chest. When the young Orc had fallen to the ground the Battlemaster hit him in the back of the head with his blade and kicked him in the face. "Pathetic, you are all dead. No food or drink for the rest of the day. If I were allowed to use a real blade I'd have killed you all rather than allow you to join the ranks of the horde." the Battlemaster delivered another vicious kick to the fallen Isih and spat upon him. * * * * * The soldiers grunted as a lively game of cards took them away from the monotony of their day. Where there were once boys, now stood great Orcish men. Tall and muscled, some with beards other with great manes of dark hair. The Battlemaster entered the room, he gazed at the orcs with contempt. Though few seasons had passed and most of the Orcs had grown substantially, physically and mentally, they were still no more than boys. He looked at the table without being noticed. Cards, he stifled back a laugh remembering his own days in training. No longer wishing to be unseen, he grunted loud. The soldiers all fell into position at the foot of their beds. The Battlemaster walked the length of the room, kicking the table of cards. He walked to an Orc desperatly trying not to make eye contact. "Why are you still here?" asked the Battlemaster. "To serve the horde, Battlemaster!" the Orc yelled. The Battlemaster walked to the next Orc, "Do you like that orc?" the Battlemaster nodded at the previous Orc. "I like him so long as he holds a blade and stands the line, Battlemaster. If he should lose that blade or step out of the line I would more likely kill him then like him, Battlemaster" the Battlemaster nodded, clearly satisfied. The Battlemaster walked to the next orc, Isih. Head high, eyes forward. Muscles well developed and the young wisp was quickly approaching a suitable height, as only 13 seasons. "Do you like my pants, Soldier?" Isih looked down to see the Battlemaster's pants. Before his eyes met soldier length, the Battlemaster punched Isih in the stomach and grabbed him by the neck and choked him to within an inch of his life. The Battlemaster finally released Isih as his eyes began to roll to the back of his head. As Isih fell to his knees, a darkness overcame him. His eyes filled red and he rose from his knees and charged the Battlemaster. The Battlemaster turned and released his weapon as Isih grabbed one of the chairs from the table where the soliders were playing cards only moments before. Isih raised the chair high and struck down upon the Battlemaster who parried the makeshift weapon with his blade. The Battlemaster attempted to grab an advantage but the Orc continued his assault by punching at the Battlemaster grazing his shoulder, and following through with an underhand swing of the chair. At this point the soldiers were able grab Isih and contain him from attacking the Battlemaster. When the rage within Isih subsided, he fell to his knees. The Battlemaster looked at the Orc, his face undecypherable. He turned and walked out of the barracks. * * * * * "You've all done very well, inclosed in the parchment are your appointed posts. I wish you great honor and battles, never forget your training." the Battlemaster saluted the soldiers and put his closed fist to his chest and yelled "FOR THE HORDE!" The Battlemaster walked back to his own tent as the soldiers were excused and excitedly ripped open their parchments, some exclaiming in excitement other clearly disappointed. As Isih ripped open the parchment there was nothing written on it. In anger he stormed toward the Battlemaster's tent, pushing aside the flap and entering without asking permission. Seated at a large, ash table was the Battlemaster, his armor hanging neatly on a shelf. Various weapons lined the walls. Marks of Honor and Valor, awarded for various reasons were plentiful. "What is the meaning of this?!" spat Isih. The Battlemaster smiled, for the first time Isih had ever seen. "Greetings to you to, Isih." Isih was taken aback but was weary, smiling and referring to him by name. "What is the meaning of this??" Isih again asked holding up the blank parchment. The Battlemaster leaned back in his chair. His muscles visibly relaxed as he spoke, "do you know where the Alterac Valley is?" Isih has of course hear of the Valley, a place where Horde and Alliance has fought for earth and water. Useless land and frozen water, it appeared as if they fougth for no better reason than to fight. "Of course" he replied. "You will take a contingent of 8 men of your choice to the Alterac Valley and defend our War General Drek'Thar" the Battlemaster stated plainly. "This is a great honor Battlemaster, why me?" Isih asked. "I have paid close attention of your progress and must say that you have matured and grown into a fine warrior..." Grekel, the Battlemaster stated "I could not think of a more suitable candidate for the job." Grekel stood from his chair and turned his back to Isih, he reached for a weapon from the shelves. He pulled a great two-handed axe from the shelf and had removed some dust from it. "This is Neretzek, a sentient axe. It takes great skill to weild this axe because its bloodthirst can corrupt the mind. Knowing this, be aware that this axe will be a great ally so long as you are able to fight and control its sentient thirst. I wish you luck Isih, great honor will follow you. Return some day and share some of your war storied with me." The Battlemaster turned and walked out of the tent leaving Isih alone with his thoughts. * * * * * The snow fell softly upon the Orc. He rubbed his calloused hand over the hilt of his axe. Years of battle in the Alterac Valley, Arathi Basin and the Warsong Gulch have left his body hardened, corded muscles tensed in reflex to footsteps behind him. "What do we do Commander, we are overrun. The alliance have captured Tower Point and are threatening our mines." stated the soldier. Isih snarled his lip at the report, "attack tower point from the North take a contingent of forces to strike at their spirit healers in Snowfall... tonight we dine on Alterac Ram!" Isih grabbed his axe and released it. Neretzek was clearly please, he would be dining tonight. Isih felt a darkness overcome him, a great rage well inside of him. He took off headed North toward Tower point. A warrior charged in his direction. The two warriors raised their blades high in the air, both smiled at each other. One would fall, the other would not... this was the way of the warrior.

The sound of the hundreds of voice chanting in the dark of night was unmistakeable. The trolls of Witherbark had amassed a large force of over Six Hundred trolls to the South, while the Alliance from South Shore, working with the Witherbark to crush Hammerfall, amassed from the West. Only the natural mountains to the North and East offered protection from the rain of arrows and magical flames. The Siege has lasted a full day. The repeating crash of a solid battering ram against the Hammerfall gate was deafening. The trolls chant was becoming infuriating and the holy assault of the Paladins was enough to make ones stomach churn. An arrows sailed through the air and whistles loudly as it began its decent, it struck the ground not more than an arms length from a large black tauren. The tauren knelt and studied the arrow. The arrow was made from fine wood and had intricate runes from head to feather, it ebbed with arcane energy. Even one as limited in the understanding of magic knew the owner of such an arrow, the Night Elves had joined the battle. "How many" Chocoa snorted as he showed the arrow to Revile. Revile looked at the arrow and channeled energy that sprang forth from the earth and swirled around him. He looked about with eyes as white as pearls. Chocoa had seen Revile perform such a feat before, seeing great distances without the assistance of engineering lenses. "I count 5, hunters with wolves the size of you!" Revile chuckled. Battle always brought out the best in the Horde, it was when they sat idle for long periods did the various races war with each other. Chocoa peered over the top of the fortified wall to estimate the number of troops. As he looked over the twang of a handful of bowstrings betrayed the onslaught of arrows that flew at the Tauren's head. Five arrows penetrated the stone wall, each within a fingers breadth of the another. "Is it just me or are these hunters getting better and better." Revile chuckles again, "maybe you should try wearing a more discrete color" as Revile noded his head at Chocoa's polished golden colored plate helm. Chocoa smiled for the first time in days, a dark storm that the eyes couldn't preceive had descended upon Azeroth. Many of the finest warriors in the realm had felt like a chain had descended around them and kept there battle rage at bay. Chocoa had begun to feel the effects as well, though he did not share these thoughts with those close to him. The earth rumbled beneath Chocoa's feet, but not because of some magic or machine. No, the rumble was made by a march. Chocoa removed a glass mirror from his pack and used it to look over the wall half expecting to see an army of Gnomes. The image, however, made Chocoa smile. The Horde had come. An army of the Forsaken marched from the south, forcing the Witherbark to stop the assault on Hammerfall and work themselves into a frenzy before charging the coming army of Forsaken. Chocoa tightened his armor and released his blade from its scabbard. "I saw a gnome magic user somewhere in the back, he's mine." Chocoa said as he stood up. The whistle of arrows again twanged from the woods. Chocoa raised his shield and 5 arrows struck it, barely moving the mighty Tauren. "You want to live forever, Orc?!" Chocoa bellowed. Revile laughed and put his helmit on, "No, but i'd like to make it past today" Chocoa laughed again and jumped over the walls of Hammerfall charging towards a group of paladins. As each of his hooves connected with the ground, Chocoa began to gain more and more speed. He travelled at an impossibly fast rate. He barreled through two paladins momentarily stunning them. He leaped high into the air and delivered a vicious leaping blow into the chest of third paladin. Though his armor had stopped the blow from being fatal, he would not be rising this day or probably to next. Revile hit the ground moments after Chocoa's initial assault, he marvelled at the effect the warrior had in battle. Shock and Awe filled the eyes of the unseasoned members of the Alliance who had never witnessed the charge of a warrior. The awe was short lived and Revile realized they were vastly outnumbered, 6 of 7 gnome and human magic users were at the back of the band of alliance, night elf hunters in the woods, 3 paladins were within 50 steps, and the smell of poison in the wind told Revile that rogues were lurking. The sound of wolves filled the air as Revile turned to face the snapping jaws of winter wolves. Revile threw a totem to the ground which ebbed of energy calling to the wolves. The wolves began to attack the totem as though it were a person. Revile channeled the power of the earth and sky and called forth a mighty bolt of electrical energy that sprang forth from his fingers and struck the closest of the wolves and jumped from it to the next. A common wolf would have run from such a blast, but these were no common wolves. They were the loyal companions of night elves. The wolves turned on Revile and sprang upon him. A shield of holy energy circled Revile, repelling the attacks of the wolves. Then three screams filled the air that chilled Revile's blood. The wolves ran in fear, Revile would have ran himself had he not known the source of the screams. Evangelina stepped forward in the wake of the devestating scream. The three stood against the alliance as Chocoa fell back, between the alliance and his group. The battle had only begun...

Happy... < raps hoof agains head > ... BIRTHDAY... < only now notices huge dent in helmit >

Have an LOL as Blizzard's Expense: PS: If you pay attention, you can see that the priest just came back from AFK. PSS: If you pay close attention, the warrior is killed by a hunter using the typical aimed-shot/multi-shot combo. PSSS: If you pay really close attention, you can see that the warrior is using a highly prized epic weapon and has NO F-ing ARMOR!

So things have finally settled down and ive taken a week off work... if you guys need Cho or Evangelina in MC tonight id love to come... if theres no room i understand, ive been MIA a long time.

The sound that echoed through the hallways was deafening to anyone in the citadel. The crack of an open hand against the soft flesh of Evangelina's face was painful, but the implications of such an assault carried an infinetly deeper cut then the physical impact. "You have disgraced this coven for the last time. How DARE you betray your sisters and brothers by bringing these... these... cantrips into this great house!" Evangelina search within herself to find the strength to talk about to the dark mistress of shadows, Meline. Meline looked upon the fallen priestess with contempt. "Speak!" spat Meline. "They are not cantrips, Meline. I never meant to insult you or the order of shadows. I only meant to further my knowledge of the other priestly orders." whispered Evangelina. Meline chuckle a dark laugh. She began whispering and casting a spell. The sound of words from the demonic language used by the warlocks struck Evangelina, shadow magic, a magic she was once very familiar with. Evangelina struggled to silence Meline with a shadow counterspell but found she could no longer remember the proper words requicred for the incantation. A blast of pain wracked Evangelina's mind and assaulted every nerve in her body. She fell to one knee attempting to recover but failing as she fell to the ground. Meline laughed, "how pitiful, even a shadow priestess of 15 seasons could repel such an attack. Do you understand the price you've paid?!" Evangelina stood up, as Meline began another incantation. This was no lesson, Evangelina's former mentor intended to cast a spell that would make Evangelina's undeath a permanent matter. Meline began to channel a new spell, a single word of power that carried death. Evangelina jumped to her feet and a split second later had conjured a shield of energy which caught the word and reflected a portion of the power word to the speaker, causing a blast of darkness to strike Meline. "I see it wasnt all spirit dances and wisps of light they taught you. No one leaves this coven. You have been entrusted with a great power, acquired through years of study and these secrets cannot leave this hall. You will die for your betrayal." Meline shouted. Meline summoned a great bolt of mental energy. The great blue arc raced from her fingers towards Evangelina. Evangelina countered by channeling, through great discipline, a means of mitigating the deadly blue arc. Though the bolt scathed at her mind, Evangelina was able to suppress the pain. As the blue ray faded into the air, Evangelina jumped at Meline and delivered a solid right hook into Meline's nose, breaking it followed by a vicious uppercut. Meline fell to the ground, knocked unconscious by the surprising physical assault. Evangelina grabbed at her right hand and loudly exclaimed, "Aww... I don't know how Chocoa makes it look so easy." She looked to the ground at the pile of robes and the developing pool of blood. So vulnerable, so easy to kill. Had the darkness of the shadows still held sway on her, Evangelina probably would have finished Meline off. However, the cloud of darkness had once and for all been broken. She discovered in her years of travel and study, a new way. The way of light. She felt satisfaction at her decision to spare Meline, to grant her leniency, though Evangelina had no doubt Meline would not be so kind and that she would pursue Evangelina till one of them were killed. Evangelina looked at the great hall and the countless seasons she spent studying the shadows in the Citadel's library. She looked one last time at Meline. She turned to leave, but quickly reversed her step and delivered a brutal kick to Meline's midsection... perhaps the darkness was giving way to the light, but deep down the shadows still remained.

Evangelina is a 49/2/0 ... Fort 0 DS 1 Imp DS 2 and for those special mages and locks in my life... Infusion 1

Im sure your mistake was slight, we have all made a mistake in the past (i.e. running in the middle of the room yelling "ROAR" in BWL). The fact that you publicily appologized speak infinetly about your character and, as a corollary, your guild. - Cho

lol sorry if it seemed like thats all druids did. What i meant by the (ill-formulated) statement was that as a support class, the best druids are the ones that you dont notice much but appreciate nonetheless. As a priest, i always notice 10% mana => 75% mana, so innervate reminds me we have a cuddly-wuddly bear in our midst. errr i mean a ferocious, evil, vile bear.

what i meant by social element was just the fact that MC can be stressful on the healers. i happen to chat a great deal in MC, while spam healing the emergency bar (god i hope they implement a new one soon).

Druid is one of those classes ill never understand. I dont know what abilities you have, or what they do. Druid is the equivalent of the Soviet Iron Curtain. No information in or out. But I respect you guys. Good Druid - "We have a druid? Oh nice innervate!" Bad Druid - "WTF IS THAT DRUID DOING?!"

Ahh the end of the overhealing message. You have healed X for 327 (1200)! However, while in a purely economical view this is very efficient and will make the raid that much more effective, there is a social cost. Namely, stress. The pressure most healers are under on a 40-man raid is immense, even when they know there 8-9 other healers who can pick up the slack if they miss a beat. With a healing rotation theres less margin of error, which introduces a higher degree of stress on the healers. I agree with Lefou on the "situational" aspect. If you want to introduce it slowly and on a limited amount of circumstances, awesome. But, if its being implemented to finished MC in record time, in my opinion, you are gonna be getting a bunch of frazzled healers which will burn out a lot faster. Just playing devil's advocate here, I am still a firm believer in the healing efficiency healing rotation can produce. My work will be leveling off in a few weeks so I'll be back in the core soon. Ill bring the healing goodness along too. - Cho/Evangelina

Warriors: Headlines will read, "Death to the ARMS Warrior." The rage normalization has destroyed the damage-rage link and replaced it with (i believe) weapon speed-rage per hit. This translates to less rage from the big slow weapons (especially if you miss) relative to the fury tree. Less rage translates to fewer mortal strikes, hamstrings, heroic strikes. Basically, rage normalization has killed the Warlord Spec. On the other hand, Fury warrior is amazing. Combining rampage, flurry and enrage is a vicious combination. I take down opponents in pvp and pve with ease. Also, Imp Slam, an often overlooked warrior ability, requires only 2 points to bring the cast time to .5 seconds. While it may have seemed stupid to use slam when it took 1.5 seconds to use, and being hit slowed the process, with half a second slams you can do a monstrous amount of damage with a 2 hander making the 2 handed fury warrior a viable spec. Did not check protection tree but one thing i did notice was stance mastery (previously in ARMS) is now in the protection tree with a maximum of 3 points saving 15 rage when you change instead of 25. Priests: Shadow Priest, omfg. I soloed 2 blue dragons in winterspring (58-59+) at the same time with dots and vamperic embrace. Nerf Shadowpriest. Post patch youll be losing a lot of healers to the call of the shadows.

Evangelina would approve of this message. Chocoa says, "Heal NooB!"

The relentless rain poured from the skies like a stream flowing over a rocky outcrop, the weather had not been this dismal in many moons. Even the hyenas and vultures took solace in their lairs. A tauren, perched on a cliff looked over the endless plains of Mulgore. He relished in the fact that during his watch, things had been very quiet. Not a soul in sight. The tauren was suddenly ripped from his thoughts as he heard the tell-tale sign of an adventurer. The sound of metal against chain, the person was armed. The frequency of the sound, light footfalls and travelling swiftly. This adventurer had likely not seen the tauren, who had cleverly hidden himself (as cleverly as a 7 1/2 foot tall bull could, relatively speaking) against the rocks. His rich brown color and dark hair adding to the camoflage of earth tones. The adventurer approached, the unmistakable smell of Elven-made wine filled the air. He walked right past the Tauren's position and failed to take note, a most greivous error. The tauren surveyed the adventurer. Lithe in form and covered head to toe in a light plate armor. The steps were surely that of a woman, and the armor was obviously handcrafted by Faerie folk. A nightelf, the tauren assumed. "HALT!" called Chocoa to the masked adventurer, "make one movement and ill cut you down where you stand, Elf" "Will you?" the figure called. The voice was unmistakably a woman's voice, but something about it made the hair on Chocoa's arm stand. It was not the melodic playful voice of an elf. The voice was resonant and carried with it the unmistakable confidence that only years of travel and battle could give a voice. Being young in years, Chocoa could not place the voice. "It would be a small matter," responded Chocoa "What business do you have in Mulgore? Why would you enter this land so heavily armed!?" "My business is my own, and my arms are hardly heavy. Here, see for yourself" the voice stated flatly as a blade streaked by Chocoa's face, fast as lightning and pierced the rock as easily as it would bread. Chocoa recovered from the attack, released his blade from his scabbard and turned back to face his opponent. The adventurer was gone in a heartbeat, he had heard tails of the agility and grace of the Elves, but never could believe the speed at which this one disappeared. The tauren's heart beat at an incredible pace, the adrenaline pumping, his rage building. This was a lesson he had learned from his mentor. His father, a warrior who won countless victories and suffered a dishonorable death at the hands of an Elf assasin. As the rage began to build, Chocoa felt the grip on his weapon tighten. How light his weapon became when he was in this state. He pushed the though aside and concentrated on finding the adventurer, an elf and likely an assasin. Chocoa bellowed, "When I find you I will cut your pretty ears off and wear them around my neck!" "If you could find them, I would gladly gift them to you." The voice came from behind. Chocoa felt a pull at his face and then nothing. He turned to where the voice had come from. But there was nothing. He felt his face where he felt the pull, but felt nothing. His rage built to incredible levels, as he realized the Elf had cut off his braided bear. Unable to control the rage he stomped the ground around him with such force that the earth itself shook. THERE! The figure appeared, as if from thin air. Chocoa charged the adventurer, full intending to deliver on his promise. Sword high in the air, what he found was searing pain that shot up the entire length of his arm as the butt of a blade met his exposed rib. "tsk tsk, you moved too soon." The female voice was playful, but stern. Chocoa rolled to the side, and spun faster than a tauren should move, and delivered a vicious cleave to where the female stood moments ago. How does she move so fast? The female moved swiftly, as if she was not of this earth. She slipped her blade inside Chocoa's guard and disarmed him in one swift movement. She then pivoted on her right leg and delivered a nasty uppercut to his jaw. The hit would have felled an ogre, but only emboldened Chocoa. The rage inside was relentless. He grabbed the lithe blade arm of the female fully intended to break it at the elbow. What he found was a deceptivly strong arm, far stiffer than it had appeared. Even worse, was the cold. Numbing cold, like the snow of winter. Before he could comprehend what was going on around him, his legs were taken out from underneath him. As he fell the female put one foot on his chest to hold him to the ground, blade perched under his chin. "Beg." The female voice said. "You had best kill me, because if you dont, I will find you... and I will kill you" Chocoa responded without an edge of fear. "Beg dog!" The female voice said again, flatly. Chocoa rolled to his right with such force and speed that he nearly knocked the blade free from the woman's hand, she back peddeled clearly surprised. He pivoted on his side and was up in the flash of an eye. A maneuver not many had seen, nor would ever live to tell the tale. As Chocoa rushed the nightelf, she deftly side stepped and delivered a devestating hit to his mid-section. Knocking the wind out of him and releasing any rage left in him. As he knelt over the ground, defeated, he inhaled several time quickly trying to recover from the blow. "I've seen your father perform a movement once." The voice stated, filled with an unusual emotion, sadness. "What?!" The impact of the words not fully setting in. The female sheathed her blade and lifted her chain helmit. Shock overtook Chocoa as he realized that beneath the helmit wasn't the face of a Nightelf. The too pale skin and the glowing yellow eyes that looked back at him did not belong to the Faerie folk, the woman was one of the Forsaken. The face was flawless. He had heard stories of the Forsaken, about the extent of the decay their bodies have undergone. This one, however, didn't appear dead. She had prominent cheek bones, long dark hair that appeared soft, and glowing eyes. One wouldnt be thought crazy if he described this woman as beautiful. "Your stance is weak, your rage overtakes you. You dont think." The beautiful undead woman stated. "It will take a lot of work for you to become as great as your father was" Shock overtook Chocoa, he was wordless. He had not met anyone who knew his father beyond his legendary tales. Chocoa always wanted to follow in his footsteps, but not tauren warrior would have anything to do with the young bull. He learned to fight from his father, but having died when Chocoa was very young, the lessons were few. "You knew my father?" Chocoa stated after many moments. The look upon the undead woman's face was unmistakable, she did. "Thats a story for another time, grab whatever you can carry. We are leaving." the woman stated "Where are we to go?! answer my question." Chocoa bellowed. "I defeated you, others will come. If you do not learn the way of the warrior, the blade of an assassin or magic of a wizard will claim your life. Do not waste time, you have much to learn and we must begin soon." The woman reasoned "I dont even know your name! who are you, how do you know me, who will train me?" Chocoa was able to spit out before the woman grabbed him by his thick black hair. "My name is Selene, I know you because you look exactly like your father. He trained me, and now I will train you. That is all you need to know, we leave in one hour." She stated The insanity of the entire situation was dumbfounding. Chocoa found himself completely confused, intensely interested in this woman and the mystery of finding out more about this Forsaken who had so easily defeated him. "Where will I stay?" Chocoa asked. "With me, in Brill." she answered, then she stated in an amused voice "I think you and my daughter will get along famously, her name is Evangelina." Chocoa was not amused. "Lesson number 1, don't underestimate your opponent. You were one fingers width from having having your neck opened and your blood drained." Chocoa felt his closely shaven beard, the interest in the woman was quickly replaced by defeat. As he walked behind the beautiful undead woman, grumbling along the way. "

Baaaah!!! You make it seem like this brave warrior is dead. Don't mourn him leaving, celebrate the adventures you've had or will have with him. Grim, I'll share a field of battle with you any day. - Cho

I just read the introduction to skullcrusher posted today by Maubey, and i believe authored by Odenn. Because both of my Crushers are peons, I cant wear my tabbard? Isn't that the first rule of showing your loyalty to a clan, wearing their colors? -Cho

Evangelina is a 300 tailor and has a buttload of Runecloth... If you need whisper or mail me in game.

I resent the implication that my voice is girly!!!! I was the lead singer for that song "Loving You" Loooooooooooving Yoooooooooooooooooooou, is easy cause youre beautiful... doo doo doodoodoo AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Just chiming in, CSC-ZG foooo LIFE... i wish i could make this more often but work takes priority. Its so good to see us going from "Will we get to hakkar" to "Who will get hakkar's loot." Im very glad I got to be there the first night we took down hakkar and several times afterward. These new rules really clarify things, so if i get a chance to make it down sometimes in the near future, ill know whats the deal. "Roar!!!" - Evangelina, BWL

I've created a monster... I said " << NJ >> " and you guys took it to the next level...!!!

I'll try to come for a little Maube, but like i said earlier... ill only be on sporadically throughout the day for quick breaks...