Of fishes and fog

I’ve always loved reading Anna’s friday 5 and the responses people give. So after weeks of procrastinating, here is my first attempt that I’ve got around to posting somewhere. Ok, I rather failed at the first hurdle (500 words was way to short once I started to write), but I really enjoyed doing it.

The fog was encroaching faster now, half the dock was already shrouded in its damp embrace. The young priestess sighed and pulled her cloak tighter, whoever named Mist’s edge had certainly been accurate. How naive she had been when her instructor’s at the temple had told her, “its time to move on”, dreaming of Stormwind’s golden spires or Ironforge’s dark caverns. Instead of an exciting metropolis, they sent her to Darkshore…. “to learn” they said. What could she possibly learn here, there wasn’t even books, just picking mushrooms in the woods and fishing. That was obviously no job for a Priestess of Elune, she wasn’t a peasant, a cook or a fisherman. Everything was so sleepy, the worse injury seen in the days since she arrived was a tiny scratch a sentinel had received whilst out bear hunting, there wasn’t even any blood. Dinner, every night was exactly the same, bread and fresh fish… hence the reason she was out in the freezing cold about to be swallowed whole by the fog.
She fished for another 5 minutes but the weather worsened, Auberdine was completely veiled from her and all noise even the sea was muffled, but faintly, carried by the salty air a sound caught her attention. It sounded like screaming. Grabbing her bucket, she picked up the hem of her gown and ran for the town. Storm lanterns were burning bright and the sentinels were running around, orders being yelled and obeyed. Watching from the misty shadows, she watched one of the younger sentinels lead three horses from the docks, sweat was pouring from their flanks as they rolled their red eyes in panic.
Her sharp intake of breath revealed her position to one of the sentinel commander’s, “Priestess come”, the urgency left no room for argument. She was lead to the Inn where a sailor was lying on the bed, his shirt soaked with dark blood. He was human, young but his skin was clammy like the fog. There were two other humans in the room, an older woman, veiled and another man, a warrior who raised a thick black eyebrow when he saw the priestess. “No disrespect but is the best you can do?”, he turned to the Sentinel “she’s a slip of girl, I doubt she could cope with a nosebleed”. “Perhaps”, the Sentinel replied “but she’s the only healer within a days travel and you don’t need to be a priestess to know he needs help now”. “What happened”, the words slipped from the Priestess’s lips without thinking, as she stared down at the injured boy. “Shipwreck”, the warrior grunted, “can you help him?”, “I don’t know”, her honesty surprised her, earlier on the beach had someone provided this scenario to her whilst she dreamed her way through the fishing, the answer would be have been a fast, aggressive yes, but now, with the smell of blood hanging thick in the cramped room, the two humans and the sentinel all watching her and the boy, the dying boy staring up at her silently begging for help, her mind was empty of spells. She wanted to run back into the fog, perhaps she was destined to be a fisherwoman after all.
Then the woman, silent for so long spoke, her Darnassian was poor but the emotion in words as she pleaded for someone to save her son, brought tears to priestess’s eyes. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to block everything out, focusing just on the light, imagining it rising inside her, filling her with its power. Nothing, she tried again, still nothing. Just when she was about tell them all what a fraud she was, that there was nothing she could do, she heard a faint intake of breath and opening her eyes, to her own amazement her hands were encased in golden light. Power was streaming between her and the boy, the ragged edges of his wound were closing up in front of her eyes. Tired, she sank to the floor, only to be enveloped in the elder woman’s gown, kisses reigning down on her cheeks.

A whole new World

The first thing I did this morning was skim MMO-Champion for more PTR updates. I then spent the next 20 minutes laughing.

I’m so glad my paladin is nothing more than a gemcutting bot only escaping Dalaran for the jc daily. I can’t help wondering if like me the tier designer went to see Aladdin during this winter’s pantomine season, its the only explanation I can think of for Ulduar bringing us bellydancing paladins.
Ok, the ladies of the harem, err priests set isnt that much better. Black might be a great colour for our shadowy brethren but its a bit harsh for my tastes. Have to say I love the druid one though, especially the shoulders and helm. Seems a bit unfair though, those ugly druids get a pretty crescent moon balanced on their foreheads and we get a facemask… or a muzzle.
I have given junk food (i.e. chocolate) up for lent so reading patch notes and giggling everytime I see a paladin will be my main source of pleasure for the next 40 days.

Romantic gestures + Warriors = ???

Breakfast at sea

Sometimes the best place for a romantic picnic is somewhere off the beaten track.

Elder Mariposa

Mariposa finally got around to collecting all the coins of ancestry this morning and whilst I don’t feel that Elder Mariposa has much of a ring to it, it got me thinking. Where would Elder Mariposa want to spend the Lunar Festival, afterall everyone knows location is key.

Definately somewhere quiet with water and flowers nearby. My first thought was one of the oasises in the Barrens. Beautiful, peaceful and relaxing, either that or at the top of the Twin Pillars in Feralas. Visiting the ancestors should require a bit of effort on the part of the visitee, mountain climbing or wading into lakes at the very least. A physical journey as well as a spiritual one if you will.
Elder Lylia on the other hand wants the opposite of peace and quiet. His perfect location would be in the original incarnation of Alterac Valley, riding Korrak’s shoulders into battle. In order to collect his coin you would have sacrifice yourself on the field to prove yourself worthy. If you afked before the battle was done his vengeful spirit would follow you for the remainder of your time playing WoW jinxing your RNG and destroying your epics.
The addition of some angry ancestors would certainly liven up the festival, perhaps Omen should be untethered from the Moonglade as well. A few ghosts running around smiting everyone from their beams of moonlight plus a giant demon dog running around eating people would add a whole new side to the proceedings. It would also make leveling alts at this time of year as much fun as doing it during the zombiefest… but all in all, a small price to pay in my opinion.
So where in the world would your Elder park themselves and their portable mailbox?