Pix’s note: I’m in the middle of a few projects. A new, upcoming blog (no, it won’t take away from what I’m doing here), a 20-questions interview (I’m the one being interviewed… weird, huh?), Arms Warrior Elementary School (a primer on starting and playing an Arms Warrior), and I’m testing the bejeezus out of Arms right now to try to find the optimal priority given that a Warrior has little to no Armor Penetration (aside from built-in battle stance). I wanted to have something a little meatier up today, but I didn’t get enough testing time yesterday with the patch and whatnot. Hopefully I’ll get some good time in on it tonight.
In the meantime, you’ll just have to suffer through my writing.
Father was always such a pious man. He would wake at dawn’s breaking to say his prayers alone in the soft light of the early morning. My sister and I would watch sometimes from afar, our curiosity in our father’s faith and his daily ritual overruling his insistence to be left undisturbed so that he could commune with the Light. After prayer, he would then walk to the temple, sometimes stopping to speak with those he passed, or to give blessings, or to pray with the people. At the temple, he served as a Priest of the Light. He was not very high in the order, though he was very well-respected.
Vedrik was his name, and though he never stood as tall as other Draenei men, he stood as proudly as they, for his calling was no less noble than those of the Hand of Argus, the order of Paladins. He would always tell my sister and me, “My daughters, grow to have faith in the Light. The Light will guide your path and determine your destiny; you need only have the courage to follow it.”
Mother was a Seer; a Shaman. She was a kind, gentle woman who dedicated herself to the healing arts and alchemy, and tried without success to teach my older sister the arts of the Shaman, and the ways of nature. She often confessed her fears to my father, that Lelissa, my older twin, did not have the makings of an alchemist within her, nor the patience that an herbalist requires. He would laugh, then, and say, “Our daughters will find their path, my love. We cannot make them into what we are.”
I was the quiet, dutiful daughter. Always studied, always did what was asked of me, never complained… when my parents discovered that I would be joining the Hand of Argus – becoming a Paladin – they were both overjoyed, praising me for doing so well, for showing true faith in the Light. My mother was delighted to discover that I had a fondness for plants, like her, and a gift for inscription, a skill that our family’s artisans had not yet touched.
Lelissa was the feisty one. Always wandering off, getting into trouble, fighting; she would come home with more cuts and scrapes than anyone. Father never worried about her, because she was always strong and resilient. When her time of testing came, we discovered that Lelissa did not have the gift of the Light, nor the affinity for elements or the nature skills that the rest of the family had. Her next step was clear: if she could not be a Priest nor Paladin, neither Shaman, Mage, nor Hunter, she would be a Warrior, because she so loved to explore and adventure. Mother was horrified… and disappointed. Father simply smiled at her and said, “Lelissa, no matter your path, you and your little sister are always protected by the Light. You need never fear.”
My father was a liar.
