Posts Tagged ‘ shaman ’

The Filthy Animal : Part 2

Continued from Part 1

“But I just wan-”


The thunder rolled overhead, every bit as violent as the roiling black clouds would lead one to believe.

Rainseeker just sighed and stared hard at Abohba. The orc innkeeper just stood in front of the door to the bathing rooms, arms cross’d her chest, with a deceptively ignorant expression on her brown face.

“I’mma sorry shaman, but th’ bathin’ rooms be in use. Besides which,” Abohba leveled a knowing and slightly accusatory gaze at the young shaman, “Ya need ta pay to use the tubs. Be three gold pieces lass.”

“Three whole gold pieces for a measley bath?! That’s highway robbery! Why, I could go outside and get a bath for free!”

The innkeeper was quick to loose her teasing tone as she waggled a finger at the other orc, “I’ll have ye know our water be heated, and we have nice soaps and adventureres from all over Azeroth come to rest their weary bones here. And I’m thinkin,” Now the inkeeper grabbed a fistful of Rainseeker’s top-knot and pulled the orc close, “That yer not wantin’ a bath at all. Sergent Tigerfeet be a great elder, worthy of ye respect, and ye’ll not be botherin’ her when she’s takin’ her leisure. Ye want to make a fool of yeself ye can durn well wait until she’s done!”

With a rough shove Abohba released Rainseeker’s top-knot and propelled her back towards the public dining area and the laden trestle tables.

“Huh, I’d have figured another Orc would properly respect a shaman…” Rainseeker grumbled to herself as she made her way back to the abandoned plate, “S’not like I meant the old cow any harm after all. Hmph”

As Rainseeker sat at the table, absent-mindedly chewing a hunk of fat, the fury of the storm outside slowly abated. It wasn’t untill the torrential downpour, visible beyond the sheltering overhang of The Filthy Animal, had slowed to a more steady shower, that the door to the back bathing rooms opened and the Druid rejoined the inn at large.

“You had a problem, calf?” Grated a voice in Rainseeker’s ear.

She jumped and whirled to stare, wide-eyed, at the Druid.

“You never take your eyes off a feral, calf. And even then, there’s no guarantee of your safety.”

As Rainseeker watched, eyes going even wider, the ancient druid slid silently onto the bench. The three-fingered tauren hand reached, not for the salads and steamed vegetables favored by most taurens, but for the roasted meat. Yet the hand that grabbed for the haunch had five fingers, and tawny golden fur, and as Rainseeker watched with growing horror, claws the size of knives slid from the hand-turned paw to sink deep into slab of roasted boar.

“Like I said, calf, it’s best to respect your elders. Not everything is what it seems, and I’ve run these plains for a good deal longer than you.”

Rainseeker swallowed, and set her shoulders, “I’ll have you know that I myself am an accomplished warrior for the horde! Why, just earlier this week I was battling toogh and nail to halt the Alliance enchroachment into the Orcish homewo-”

“Outland?!” Tigerfeet brayed loudly, her deep laughter booming above the general din of the tavern, “Calf, I have conquered outland. I have bested the Naga in ther cavern, I have conquered the Tempest Keep. I have been to the Black Temple and paid Illidan his due. The Outlands are nothing but a training ground now for calves like you.” She turned away from the shaman, intently seeking another cut of meat.

“And so what if it is? Just because you did all those things doesn’t mean you can rest! The scourge have shown us that!” Rainseeker’s bravado had fallen away, replaced with righteous indignation at the Druid’s dismissive attitude. She leveled a hard stare at the Tauren, “I’ll even wager there are worse evils to be met than the scourge.”

Tigerfeet paused and turned one cold, feral, eye on the shaman and whispered, “Yes, calf. There are.”

…. to be continued. Part 3


The Filthy Animal : Part 1

It never rained in Dalaran.

Weather the city floated too high for the clouds to reach it, or the mages kept the rain away, nobody but their kind knew.

Today, however, was an exception.

The thick, black clouds boiled down from the peaks of storm, remarkable in and of itself because they came from the north instead of wafting over the bloody battlefield that was Lake Wintergrasp. But, natural or not, come it did, rolling down off the peaks, crackling lighting over the violet spires of the great city of mages.

As the sky hummed with energy a lone figure, shoulders bent, horned head hung low, could be seen passing by the Horde banners. Hooves on the cobblestones even threw sparks, so charged was the air. All of Dalaran seemed to wait, a heavy hand clutching hearts, for the storm to break.

The lone figure didn’t quite make it to shelter before the sky opened up to let down her rain. Because of this, when weary hooves led Tigerfeet to the warm embrace of The Filthy Animal there was a shaman in a corner, wreathed in the smoke from cooking and pipes, who stiffened her back and sniffed. A slow sneer wandered across her face as the orc turned an icy blue eye to the entrance to see…

Shilouetted against the darkening sky stood a truly ancient druid. One horn snapped, her fur, once black, gone grey with age. Her armor, finely crafted of living wood, blooming from the rain with vines twining around, gave the lie to her defeated and weary posture.

The young shaman would have done well to respect what was obviously an elder who deserved reverence. Instead she rolled her head languidly to one side and called out, “Barkeep! I know ye call this The Filthy Animal, but I didn’t know ye actually let them sup here!”

The druid’s head snapped up, a dangerously feral glint in her eye. “Insolent, knock-kneed calf!” she growled.

The barkeep, eyes going round in alarm, scrambled around the bar counter and rushed to the Druid’s side. “She mean no disrespect mon. Here, I’ll be drawin’ ye up a bath! We get all dat bad mojo offa ya dah?”

Tigerfeet spared a look for her matted fur, caked with oil, singed in places, and now wet from the rain. She sighed, “That sounds wonderful Misensi, please.”

As the troll led the druid away they were followed by two hard blue eyes. The young shaman reached for another slice of pork carved from the great feast on the table and wondered, who was this druid to command special treatment from the Dalaran inkeepers. She looked old enough, but age was never indicative of greatness.

The slice of roasted pork fell back to the plate, uneaten, as the young orc stood and followed, now determined to measure this elder’s worth.

…… to be continued. Part 2

Enhanced Claws

I’ve discovered something interesting that, in retrospect, really should have been obvious from the beginning.

Druids love Shamans, and vis a versa.

It’s really quite obvious why. Both classes can choose to spec either healer, ranged, or melee DPS. The most glaring difference is that Druids can tank. Properly specced and geared I think a Shaman would likely be able to tank a regular instance as well, and maybe even a heroic.

So first of all, my favorite reason for playing a Druid, the versatility and ability to do whatever I want within one class, is echoed in our totem-tossing brethren.

But what about Paladins? Paladins can heal, melee DPS, or tank. But Paladins have a very different flavor from both Druids and Shamans. The former is very much a warrior for the ‘light’, a crusader, and a defender of organized religion. The Shaman and Druid, however, take their role and step back

A Shaman’s role is as a spiritual leader, yes, but instead of buying into righteous fervor they espouse communing with the spirits and ancestors, encourage their charges to ask their own questions, and find their own way, only offering guidance when it is sought.

Druids are similar. While not usually cultural leaders, the druids are none-the-less in control of their surroundings. They council one-ness with nature and balance in all things, preferring only to act when a situation has gone so far ut of hand that it won’t be resolved naturally.

While flexibility in a single class is the same, I think it’s this flavor that sets Druids and Shamans apart from Paladins, and is part of the root of why I see so many Druids with Shaman alts, and so many Shamans dabbling with their toes in fur (or bark, or feathers).

My main alt is a Shaman. She’s level 53 now and all I can think of is: Rainseeker? Where have you been all my life?

PS ~

/cast Shamanistic Rage
/cast Blood Fury

broken I.W.I.N. button?


OMG! Fix It! Fix It!


/womanly vapors

/moar flailing

There’s this awesome new website that’s got snazzy WoW headlines right? I even put them on my side bar over ——-> thatta way.

One problem, they think I’m BBB!



Not that BBB isn’t all kinds of awesome mind you, I’d just prefer to differentiate between the svelte Night Elf bear butts and the MUCH more impressive Tauren bear butts.

Oh yeah sir, I went there. Tauren bears are bigger than Elfishey bears.*

Anyhoo, check out tha site, definitely, even if they didn’t quite link me correctly, I’m sure it’ll get fixed in time… PLUS! I sent them a snazzy avatar, because we all know I’ve got some weird obsession about fiddling with my graphics.

Case in point my new RSS icon. I need to fix the tail, the puff-ball isn’t doing it for me.

I’ll definitely be checking out those headlines for some Shaman info. My little baby is growing up fast, she hit 48 over the weekend and I don’t think I’ll be able to muddle along for too much longer without a clue about what I’m doing.

Here’s a quick question, I’m questing right? And EVERYTHING IS DYING! I totally feel OP. Nerf me! Or something, I shouldn’t be able to take on 3-4 lvl 52s at lvl 48, something’s not right there. Back on my druid if I’d tried even ONE mob 4 levels above me it would have been an epic battle indeed.

Needless to say, my love of totems now borders on the inappropriate.

*Yes, Tauren bears totally ARE bigger. I compared 🙂

UPDATE: Woo-hoo! They fix’t it! 😀

Lots of love coming to the shadowy owner/operator of WoW Headlines 😀