Saturday, February 20, 2010

Understanding that there are bound to be lots of variations, what's a "typical" day like for you?

Every day I wake up and cast a cleansing spell which beats indoor plumbing any day. Then I check my email before morning meditation. I do it in this order because meditation really doesn't do much for me besides lower a constant sense of urgency that I would otherwise have and if I find that someone has emailed me asking for something urgent... well, that sense is quite useful, then, isn't it?

After meditation, assuming I have no urgent business to attend to, I will go see what Moroes has prepared for breakfast. I admit that when I do have urgent business I will sometimes go without breakfast which will upset the poor castellan, but on this hypothetical day I indulge in a scrumptious breakfast of bacon, eggs and garlic toast.

After breakfast, I set about my day. With the Lich king no longer a threat, the days have generally been filled with preparation for the cataclysm to come. I've been studying everything I can about Deathwing, Azshara and the many foes promising to raise their heads in the coming days. I train myself to invent brand new, powerful spells to use against the enemy should I be called upon. I don't think that's likely, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

For those mortals who are used to training in an instant, it may be difficult for this short description to convey what I really go through in training. The heroes of Azeroth are only learning spells from those who have gone before. I, on the other hand, knowing all of these spells already, must completely reform the threads of magic to my will, visualizing a desired result and twisting the nether to fit that purpose. It's a very time and energy consuming practice.

When I've had enough of this, I will sometimes sit out on my terrace and enjoy the day, such as it can be enjoyed in Deadwind Pass. Sometimes Khadgar will come to visit and we'll play a game of chess. Sometimes I'll have to deal with intruders or fix the Curator (when only minor fixes are required).

Every week on Tuesday I make it a practice to visit a major city in disguise to gather supplies. I would send one of my servants, but, let's be honest, out of everyone here at Karazhan, I'm the one who looks and acts the most normal. During this time I learn of world events news of which has not yet reached my tower. When I return, we're ready for another week.

When night has fallen, every day, I do some REAL meditation. I sit and call upon the powers of Azeroth to show me the whereabouts and activities of every major threat to the planet. (Yes, this now includes even Bolvar.) If anyone knew exactly what I saw during this time, it may drive them mad, but I find it allows me to sleep soundly knowing exactly what my enemies and potential enemies are up to. Call me crazy.

Ask me anything

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Ask me anything

Monday, October 12, 2009

Prophecy Made, Doom Foretold

It's difficult to bring people to action about the end of the world now-a-days.

Last month I visited BlizzCon to warn all the most important people about Deathwing and now, a month later, people are still worried about the frozen zombie locked in his citadel. Don't get me wrong, the Lich King is a grave threat. But, guys! Worldwide cataclysm! C'mon, now. You can't tell me you're not concerned about that. I tell you Deathwing is about to show up and what do you do? You rush back into his daughter's lair to make sure she's dead, and then you go right back to Icecrown. Really?? You're not gonna storm Deepholm and get Deathwing while he's down?? Sure, the way might be blocked for now, but I'm sure a few gobblin explosives or gnomish drills should do the trick.

When I warned Thrall of the impending doom of the Burning Legion, he didn't sit around in anticipation. He took action! He rallied the Horde and moved out to Kalimdor! I'm beginning to think that maybe all adventurers are humans in essence. It was the humans of Lordaeron who would not listen to me and went about their business. And were, thus, destroyed.

Some time after the convention, I made a trip to Gilneas to warn them of the impending doom. Just a few select people who didn't really know who I was. Greymane wouldn't hear me. He swore his wall would stand forever. I've never faced such opposition to a prophecy before. It's like everyone is completely ignoring the boulder that they can clearly see tumbling down the hill.

By the way, it strikes me that the Gilneans, now turned into Worgen, will be accepted by the Alliance as ones whose unfortunate fate had turned those who were once human into monsters. Which is pretty much the same story as the Forsaken, who were denounced by the Alliance. Why is that? Is it because puppies are more cuddly than zombies?


DOOM AND CATACLYSM AND PERIL! yadda yadda yadda...

Just c'mon... I mean, at least send some scouts over Hyjal to check out that area. Humor me.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

On Cheating

Ok, I've been catching a lot of flack for the way in which I run chess games. Aparently, it's not appreciated when you try to make things interesting by healing the king, speeding things up or catching peices on fire. Normally I would agree that changing the rules of the game mid-game is an unfair way to win. But I'd like to address a folly in the way people approah my particular brand of chess.

Let's be clear from the very start: this is not your average game of chess. From the very begining it's clear that you're playing by completely different rules - house rules - my rules. The rules are made clear before you start and they include: "WARNING: expect the unexpected!" Which is pretty redundant now since people always expect me to "cheat."

That's another thing. "Cheat" is just a term I use for another aspect of the game. An aspect I use to raise the stakes when things are becoming a little more interesting than I had expected. The average player can't go for more than, say, 5 minutes against me. But when I meet a player with exceptional skill I like to make the game a little more advanced - a little more challenging - a little more... heroic. I may use the term "cheat" but it's no more actual cheating than an enemy on the field of battle coming at you with more strength and numbers than you expected.

If you dislike the game and the rules the way I play them, then, by all means, feel free to skip it. But I've always seen it as a fun and rewarding way to piss off my tenent, Malchazzar. He hates it when I let people up onto the roof.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

The Secret Life of Mages

You may have noticed I haven't updated in a while. This is not an accident. You see, before I was resurrected I was pretty seclusive, only coming out of Karazahn when someone needed some official guardian business. Even when I came back during the Third War, I may have addressed several people, but I never got directly involved. (That was the point, after all... if Azeroth doesn't need guardians, then my getting involved would defeat the purpose.) I had started thinking that perhaps my affinity for the shadow of secrecy was due to the influence of Sargeras, and so I started reaching out a bit more... getting a Twitter account and starting an online journal and so forth. I have recently realized, however, that there was a reason no one really thought it was entirely odd that a mage such as myself locked himself away in his tower for so long. Mages always do that. Mages have secrets. Their mysterious ways are directly related to the danger involved in their studies. A single misspoken word of power could bring down a well-built castle wall.

I have, therefore, decided to step back only slightly from my mainstream activity on the Internet. Only slightly, I reiterate. Because if I accidentally let out the incantation for a spell that destroys an entire city I would never forgive myself. It would undo all I have done to repay for my past actions. I will, however, release clues to my activities that the learned among you will be able to pick up on. They will be hidden in cryptic messages, journal entries and tweets that only the wisest and most worthy of my followers will be able to decipher. And they will often lead to some sort of pay-off.

When I have a story to tell, I will tell it. When I have a recipe to share, I will share it. But in keeping with the time-honored traditions of mages everywhere, my arcane activities will remain veiled in secrecy. Good luck to those who wish to follow in my path.

Thursday, June 11, 2009


When I tell people I can see the future, it's often misunderstood. So I rarely do. What I "see" is less an image than it is a feeling, or a strong intuition. Oftentimes, my journeys are based on these intuitions. I get a feeling about what is in the future for Azeroth, and so I investigate in order to give them a clear warning beyond the simple "HUMANITY IS IN PERIL!" spiel. But there are times when my mind is silent and the voices of the future fail to reach my spirit. In these times, I often study the current age and make predictions about what will occur based on extrapolation. In recent studies, a few things occur to me:

1) Murlocs are a formidable race.
Hear me out. Since the discovery of these creatures, every sentient being has been out to get them. They even once threatened to wipe out the Darkspear Trolls until Thrall and the rest of the Orcs came along to help them out. Part of me believes that the Murlocs are just as intelligent as any of the Horde or Alliance races, though inability to decipher their language makes it impossible to be sure. On the one hand, the ability to translate a complex string of guttural noises into understandable ideas represents an uncanny ability to structure a intriguing language. On the other hand, these noises may just be random and they're as dumb as a forest toad. In either case, they have thrived despite several attempts at their genocide. I would not be surprised if they eventually represent an integral part of Azerothian history.

2) Adventurers rely too heavily on gear.
There are copious amounts of enchanted gear to be found or crafted around Azeroth. But gear alone does not make a worthy adversary. It takes skill and cunning to break through your opponent's gear and win an honorable victory. It pains me to observe those who have honed their abilities to the highest level, only to wield such abilities like a child with a knife. They believe they are worthy to face Yogg-Saron alone in battle when they could easily be taken out by a well-geared murloc. Just because you hold Life and Death in your hand, young mage, does not mean you have the wherewithal to use it. Sit down, fool! And learn from your betters!

3) Gnomish technology is destroying the world more efficiently than Sargeras.
I will admit that it's fun to sit at my Netherbox all day and Tweet the friends I have made online, but how much is too much? Eventually you must communicate face-to-face. There is much to be gained by in-person communication that will never be transmitted electronically. And if you sit all day in front of a glowing screen, the Lich King is sure to win. Your mind will be even more easily pliable once he raises you into his scourge army. Go out and accomplish some real quests! Damn hoolagins!

4) I still don't know if I'm a father.
Can anyone update me on this? I'm positive that damn Brighteyes was never concieved by my seed, but Med'an... well, let's just say it's within my best interests to know for sure...

5) Why hasn't anyone been back to Hyjal since the battle?
I thought about checking it out once or twice, but something else always came up. Sure, you can visit it through the Caverns of Time, but it's just not the same. Rather, it is exactly the same... as it was during the battle... because it is the battle... which is to say, it's not the same as it is today... I do hope I'm not confusing anyone. Time travel is inharently a confusing subject. Regardless, someone should really be checking things out up there. Elune knows what kind of evils may be stirring up in the ruins of Archimonde's carcass.

These are just a few of the observations I've made while on hiatus from adventuring. Talk back to me. Tell me what kinds of things interest you in Azeroth.

Friday, May 29, 2009

The Maelstrom (part 8)

Many very powerful beings make use of avatars for various reasons. Sargeras made one to trick my mother into thinking she could defeat him. Yogg'Saron made one named Sara to lure adventurers into his lair. There are plenty of reasons to make an avatar, but to do it right one needs access to tremendous amounts of magical power and energy. You can make an avatar look like whatever you want and perform whatever task you need done, but the one thing that really makes an avatar and avatar is the fact that it is connected to its creator. Connected is not strong enough a word, though. The fabric of the avatar's being is intrinsically woven into its creator's mind.

As we stood outside the door of Queen Azshara's chamber I briefly wished I'd had an avatar to go in my place. The queen is an ancient and powerful being, as beautiful as she is deadly. As leader of the Kaldorei, no man could resist her charms. It was said that she made use of some powerful spells to enhance her perceived charm. If I had an avatar, he would be immune to such spells. I could enter into her presence without fear of being swayed by her charms.

But that was thouands of years ago. Did she retain such charms as leader of the Naga? Did she even retain her beauty? Or was she a hideous, twisted shadow of her former self?

The chamber doors opened and the maid beckoned us inside. What she said sent a chill down my spine.

"She'd been expecting you."

I almost refused to enter. But that would render my entire journey pointless. I looked at Sharaniss. He nodded and entered without reservation. That put me at some sort of ease. For about three seconds.

Sharaniss entered before me. As I passed over the threshhold, the first words I heard out of the mouth of Azshara were "It's good to see you again, Ith'Quorel."

My brow furrowed. To my knowledge, the only one who had just entered the room besides me was named Sharaniss. Indeed, as I entered the room I saw only Sharaniss and Azshara...

Azshara! Indeed, her beauty had not been defiled by the ages of arcane change! Her face lit the room, and snakes fell gracefully down her petite neck coming to a halt upon her ample bosom. Her arms, just as graceful, protruded from four parts of her stunning torso which blended into a winding tale that formed a sort of nest. A couch for her to lay upon comfortably. The Light of Lights, she truly was. But part of me wondered if my admiration for her was merely the effect of one of her spells.

"Enter, Prophet," she said, "Tell me your message."

I had been thinking of what to tell her. Something that would convince her to see me through to the Rift. I was unsure if it would work, but I tried. "Light of Lights," I said, "I am old and dying. History tells us of the Well of Eternity, a powerful source of magic discovered by your people millennia ago. I seek this Well."

When she smiled, my heart lept. I felt I might die by sheer excitement! But her condescending tone quickly quelled my longing heart. "A fair story. But you needed lie. Ith'Quorel has told me the truth."

"Forgive me," I said, "But I know this Naga as Sharaniss."

Sharaniss spoke up: "I may have lied about my name before," he said. "You understand, I did not know if you were friend or foe." His tone was shifty and suggestive. I felt like I never knew him at all. Like he was lying at this very moment.

"I was a fool to trust you," I said.

"Most humans are fools," Ith'Quorel responded.

"Wait!" Azshara cut in. Her eyes were crazed. Her gaze shifted as though trying to catch a thought. "I sense... I sense... Him..."

"I was right, then," Ith'Quorel said, a smile on his face.

"No..." she said with a snarl, "You weren't."

For the first time she rose from her position and swam to me. She put her nose in my face. Her eyes glowed like bright blue torches. They peirced my being and searched my soul. Searched for something they could not find.

"He is not here," she said at last, rage building in her beautiful face, "HE IS NOT HERE!!!"

My mind raced. In an instant I knew what she was talking about. There was only one person who, looking into my eyes, you could possibly be looking for and not find. Quietly, I whispered: "You mean Sargeras..."

She ignored me and addressed Ith'Quorel. "You told me He resided within the body of this mortal! You've lied to me!"

"I did not lie to you!" Ith'Quorel demanded in a surprisingly insolent tone. "Magus Medivh is the body that houses the fallen Titan, Sargeras!"

"You are mistaken!" I spoke loud as I could, "The demon that once inhabited my spirit no longer troubles me! Sargeras has been defeated! I stand before you as living proof!"

Behind Ith'Quorel was a window with a heavy drape over it. The Naga that I believed I knew snarled and let out a roar as he violently opened the large window. It led out into the Rift. Light streamed into the chamber. The torrent of the storm raged outside and blew loudly into my ears. It is into this bright, violent, arcane storm that Ith'Quorel jumped and was out of my sight.

I turned to face the queen whose face was uncharacteristically shaken. She was staring out the window. Then she turned to glare at me.

I tried painfully to speak above the noise of the storm. "What could you possibly want with Sargeras!?"

"My new master promised retribution!" she said, "And you have robbed me of it!" Menacingly, she drew nearer. I stood my ground.

"If you saught the death of Sargeras, then we have a common enemy! We could band together and stop death and destruction around Azeroth together!"

"You fool! Sargeras' death would only have been the first!"

Azshara swung her tail at me! I was able to duck, but the tidal force it brought with it carried me to smack against a far wall. I recovered quickly and readied a spell. Buffering it in my mind, I taunted my opponent: "I won't be the next, octopus."

A barrage of arcane force flowed from my hands and struck Azshara square in the belly. Wave after wave of missiles pushed her farther and farther back, screaming with each blow. I swam as quickly as I could toward the window, but she caught me in her tail and brought me closer to her.

I concentrated, and a wave of force emanated from my person, weakening her grip and allowing me to slip away. She tried to close her window with the magical force of her own mind, but I was ready with a fireblast that pushed through the window and allowed me access to the outside.

I was inside the Rift! I could feel its magical energies flow through me like an untamed cascade! Brightly it shown even up onto the surface! Above me, in the distance, I could see the swirling tip of an underwater tornado! The glass from the broken window, shattered, flew around me like butterflies around a flower. They eventually fell down into the Rift. The walls of earth that were formed by the explosion of the Well of Eternity all those years go seemed to lift their hands in praise of an unseen god. But as my gaze fell into the core of the Rift... I did see it.

A tentacle rose from out of the canyon, and I heard Azshara laugh! It struck me, but unwilling to to be thrown against the edges of the Rift, I grabbed it and held on for dear life. When it came to stop, I let go and realized I was being pulled farther and farther down. The walls of the Rift rose higher and higher above me, and as I looked down I stared straight into a single, gigantic eye!

I tried swimming, but I was not strong enough. Farther I fell until I realized, the only thing that would get me out of this was magic. I drew from the Rift more magic than I had ever used. I pulled at the fabric of the arcane and let it flow through my very being like music through a grand master. The water, no, reality itself bent around me and just as a tentacle was wrapping itself around my center, I released the spell, blowing the tentacle to a thousand pieces and propelling me up, up, up to the surface of the ocean!

As upward I traveled, I felt the force of the changing water pressure threatening to tear me apart. I drew even more magic from the Rift and created a shield of water around me so tight it would maintain the pressure of the depth from which I came until I was able to slowly release the shield.

I was free. As I broke the surface, I flew up into the center of the Maelstrom, the eye of the storm. The only place in the Great Sea that is completely calm, save for the twirling waters beneath. For a moment, I allowed myself to float in mid air. I looked around at the eye wall. The storm raged around me, but I was at piece within my shield of water. I knew what the Naga felt. For deep with my core I felt a singular dread, despite my safe position.

Azeroth must be warned. Eventually. Their troubles need not be compounded at the moment. But through this journal, let it be known: if we seek peace on our planet, our task will not be completed in Northrend. If at all.