I do not write in pink. I write in purple, the color of kings.
I have revisited WSG and have finally triumphed over the Alliance scum! I would like to think it was because I allowed my baser nature to come out and lead me out from my heretofore defensive position and into a more aggressive, offensive role. The thrill of the chase! The excitement of sighting the enemy! The triumph as you send your pet after your mark and your deadly arrows star to rain down upon him. The sinking realization that a warlock has spotted you and has cursed you with as many curses as their fell kind have knowledge of. The desperate volleys you send after the warlock, seeking to inflict as much damage as you can. Serpent Sting, Arcane Shot, Concussive Shot, you fuzzily try to remember what else to fire. Then, as you approach your last breath you plant a freezing trap, hoping that it might ensnare someone. As your eyes close you see it catch one of the enemy! With a smile on your face you succumb to sweet Morpheus. A few seconds later you find yourself with the Spirit Healer and prepare to join the fray once again. FOR THE HORDE!
Beowulfa
p.s. I am aware that Morpheus is the dreamer of dreams etc. and more to do with sleep than death but it seemed appropriate and 'sides, I have literary license.
2 comments:
Just wait till you can suck the mana out of the casters.
Dot the Meele and Drain the mana from the casters.
Nothing annoys a caster faster than watching their mana get sucked dry by a hunter.
Yes! Especially that last, cause there's nothing sweeter than dying while knowing that you managed to take a big chunk outta their...arse. Ah...like nectar. FOR THE HORDE!
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