The week was off to a good start. He had his elekk and he had his ring necklace - Symur had been more than happy to oblige. Jag felt more empowered than ever, now that he didn't feel so dreadfully and constantly lonely. The necklace especially went a long way towards this. Unfortunately, however, an entirely good week was just not in the cards for Jag this time around. At approximately 12:15am on the 18th, the news spread quickly through the Legion that the great warrior Malv had been killed in action in the blazing ruins of Stratholme, in the Eastern Plaguelands. Serac, Marckus, Kotonoha, and Voudka were present with him at the time of his death and watched as he was hit by a poison arrow, tipped with a type of poison that proved to be so noxious that no amount of holy healing or number of well-made bandages was able to revive him. Malv's death was sudden and immediate. The Legion had lost one of its most loved and valued members.

Just as soon as the word went out of his death, plans began to be made for Malv's funeral. Within moments, it was decided that the funeral would be held in the Cathedral of Light in Stormwind City. Jag was back in Darkshire at the time, investigating an outbreak of worgen in the southern cemetery. As if he even had a choice, he temporarily suspended his investigation and flew by gryphon to Stormwind. Even though he was relatively close by in Duskwood, of those who would attend, he was among the last to arrive.

Serac, Marckus, Koto, and Voudka were all present, of course. They brought Malv's body back from Stratholme. Also in attendance were Symur and Shisen. Malv's body lay lifeless and cold on the wooden table atop the altar, and all of them knelt around it. Voudka began the service. One by one, each person present said a short eulogy, talking about past experiences shared with the great man that was Malv. Jag didn't know Malv for that long at all, but he did have respect for the guy and felt terribly sorry that his time to go had come so soon.

There was much crying and consoling, but amidst all the shock and sadness, something good came out of it for Jag. For the first time, Jag had the opportunity to speak with all of Serac's friends in person. In essence, he was meeting them for the first time, even though he had been speaking to many of them all along. Though this was great for social reasons – surely, a great start towards becoming good friends with them all – it was because of them that the somber occasion hit Jag surprisingly hard. Seeing Serac and his friends mourn for the loss of their dear friend and fellow comrade in arms hit Jag deeply. It made him think…how would he meet his end? Would his legacy be a significant and lasting one? Who would attend his funeral?..... As that last thought entered his mind, a tear slowly rolled down the side of his face. Would he die without ever having seen his family again? It was certainly possible that it could happen. Jag was certainly not one to believe himself invincible simply because death had not yet claimed him after so much combat. But how tragic would that be?

At this moment, Jag felt a very distant hand gently pat his right shoulder. His trance fading away, he looked over to see Serac standing at his side with a concerned look on his face. "Hey there, buddy! Everything alright?" Jag could see that everything wasn't alright for Serac. His beard was wet from tears and his face was all flushed. But his voice was certainly strong and stable enough, presumably a front to hide his complete distress. "Ohhhuhhhh….yyyeaah. Yeah. I'm fine." Jag replied hazily, as though he was coming out of a vocal fog. "Good man, he was. It's so sad to see him go." At this, Serac merely nodded, then closed his eyes and continued saying prayers for his departed friend. Jag remained knelt beside the table for a few additional moments before getting up and saying solemnly, "I'm sorry, guys. I can't be here anymore." He turned to walk back out of the cathedral, then stopped about a quarter of the way down the big room. He turned back towards the altar and decided to stand here by the adjacent pillar and continue to watch on from a short distance. Here, he resumed his thoughts of his own premature demise.

A short while later, Jag walked out of the cathedral and stopped on the steps outside. He stood there, breathing in the sweet, brisk autumn air, trying to regain some emotional balance. Moments later, Shibalba approached on her mount, a creature that to Jag looked like some sort of spectral horse. A good friend of Serac and his friends, though not a member of the Legion, she admitted that she doesn't do well at funerals. She did come however, to pay her respects from outside the cathedral, hoping to catch Serac and the others on their way out to offer her condolences. No sooner did she explain this to Jag did Serac appear at the entrance of the cathedral. He walked down the stairs to meet Jag, and then he sat down on the step. Together, the three of them talked about how shocking the whole thing was. Jag couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Serac to watch Malv fall. That image would surely stay with Serac for the rest of his life.

A few minutes later, having finished paying their respects, the others began to trickle out of the cathedral, until everyone was outside. Shibalba spoke with everyone for a short time and then departed. Then, everyone else, Jag included, formed a procession and slowly rode their mounts down to the Goldshire cemetery in nearby Elwynn Forest, just outside the city limits. It was here that Malv was buried.

It was a good long time before people began to depart. No one, it seemed, was willing to say their final goodbye to Malv. But when at last people began to do so, they then proceeded to leave in small groups of two or by themselves. As Jag was walking away himself, Serac approached him and silently handed him a wrapped bundle. It was fairly light and was wrapped in a single layer of tissuey paper, with a piece of twine enveloping the whole package. Jag looked down at the package, then up at Serac, who returned Jag's surprised expression with a friendly gesture that implied he should go ahead and open it. Jag looked back down at the bundle and after a couple more seconds of inactivity, he began to untie the twine and remove the tissue paper. There, underneath the packaging, beheld a passionately crimson tabard, with golden trimming. A red dragon with its wings outspread dominated the center of the garment. Mouth agape, Jag just looked at Serac, stunned, as Serac said "me and the others think you've more than deserved this. Wear it proudly, and know that you never stand alone."

This was certainly a night Jag would never forget, both for good reasons and sad.

- - - - - - 

I'd like to take this opportunity to give you advanced notice about chapter six. I wrote it yesterday. It took all day. Not because my brain was taking a day break, but because a lot had to happen in the chapter to get the story up to speed. It's all part of what I've been calling the "Barber shop arc". Some of you may already know what that means and what I'm insinuating. To everyone else, just know that chapter six is ferociously long compared to the five that came before it. Don't freak out. Just read and enjoy. It's among my best work yet, in general. You've been warned. :)

Today, Jag found his first major break in the search for his family. This success has relieved some of the frustration he'd been feeling, but has also, unfortunately, brought up many more questions that as yet, like the many others that have come up before in the last eleven days, cannot begin to be answered properly. But at least Jag has something to go on, something tangible. He has a lead, of sorts. But best of all, he has made some progress. He's not standing completely in the dark anymore. Where before there was only complete and absolute darkness, there is now a dim light, away in the far distance. To many others, this would not be much of an improvement over the darkness, but to Jag, it shows that he has a spatial position and somewhere he can go from this point.

It all started innocently enough. Well, as innocent as tracking down a traitor to the Alliance can be. The search took Jag all over the Eastern Kingdoms, from Duskwood to Stormwind City, into the Wetlands and Menethil Harbor, to Theramore Isle and the vast marsh that lay beyond. It was in this marsh, Dustwallow Marsh to be exact, that the search came to its victorious end. It turned out that the traitor was a soldier employed in the Alliance's defense force near Witch Hill, a man by the name of Hendel. Jag intercepted and caught Private Hendel, who after a brief physical confrontation, turned himself in. Handcuffed, he and a pair of accompanying guards rode on horseback to Theramore Isle. As they were riding off, Jag noticed something shiny drop from Hendel's horse onto the damp ground. "It must be something Hendel had in one of his pockets," Jag said to himself. Curious, Jag walked over to pick the object up and examine it. Immediately, he recognized the object. It was his wife Jaina's wedding ring! He knew so by its size, its shape, the clear, perfectly polished crystal socketed to it, and by the inscription that he himself had engraved into the underside of the band: "You are my Light, always and forever."

Jag's emotions ran untamed for a moment. Shock, surprise, confusion. Sadness, worry, anger, fury. Realizing he'd do no one any good as a raging emotional furbolg, he calmed himself by summoning a cool, refreshing breeze to surround and envelop him. Once he had regained his calm composure, he took off for Theramore Isle as quickly as his elekk could take him there.

Once at the Isle, Jag requested to speak with Hendel, but he was told he didn't have the proper clearance to do so. Irritated, though not outwardly showing so, Jag nodded, then asked if it would be possible for him to propose a few questions to be asked on his behalf. Seeing that the guard was a bit perplexed by his request, Jag filled him in on his story. The guard nodded sympathetically - sincerely, as though he actually understood and was not merely trying to get Jag to go away – and told Jag he would be willing to carry out the request. The interrogator would ask Hendel Jag's questions, and Jag would be mailed a letter express if anything significant were to come from Hendel's replies to Jag's indirect inquiries.

Hitting what seemed now to have become another dead end, Jag had no choice but to continue onward, to the Hillsbrad Foothills. But first, he sent a letter to Serac, to update him on recent events and to ask a favor of Serac's priestly comrade, Symur. See, since Jag did not know Symur all that well yet, he figured Serac could act as his "in" at this particular time. Relationships would surely grow and prosper, but for now, Serac was his man. While out hunting down the traitor that would eventually be identified as Private Hendel, Jag had learned from Serac's other friend Voudka that Symur was a skilled jewelcrafter. This knowledge now came in handy, as Jag wanted to see if Symur would make him a bronze necklace with which he could slide on Jaina's ring, so he could have his one and only current physical reminder of Jaina close to his heart at all times.

It was such a simple favor that Jag figured it would be no problem at all, and so while he waited for the necklace to arrive in the mail, he decided he would go on wearing the ring on his own ring finger. He wouldn't care what others might say to that, a grown male Draenei wearing a female Draenei's wedding ring. "To Illidan's Hell with them all," Jag muttered with deep, meaningful strength behind the words. Few could understand what he was going through. To explain it to each person he encountered would not only be tiring, but entirely futile. All that mattered to Jag was finding his family and the truth of what happened to him. His shamanistic training and exploration of the lands of Azeroth were just a means to an end at the moment. He could appreciate the power and beauty some other time, perhaps when he was reunited with his family. But at present, he was on a mission.

As he lay in a bed at the Theramore Isle Inn, he pondered what may have happened to Jaina. Maybe nothing at all, but then, it may have been something bad, or worse yet, she's in the midst of something dangerous. What kind of trouble could Jaina have managed to get herself into? Was it related to what happened to him? Was it something he did that caused all of this to happen? Just what was the relationship between Jaina and the traitor Hendel? Jag still didn't know much and that really frustrated him. What he did know, he didn't like.

What he knew didn't calm his nerves. What he knew only made him more worried, more distraught. Though, what he knew now also made him more determined than he had ever been earlier in his journey. Subconsciously, he looked down at his right hand and noticed he had forgotten to take off Jaina's ring. As he did so, the crystal reflected the light from the lamp. He placed the ring down on the night table and gazed intently at it. Here it was, a physical reminder of Jaina to keep him focused, a symbol of their love to constantly show Jag why he's doing what he's doing. He won't give up. Until he finds her, he will keep training and wandering through the lands. He will not believe her dead unless he gazes upon her lifeless body with his own eyes. He will hope, and continue to hope, truly and deeply, that Jaina is okay, wherever she is, whether in danger or safe. He has faith that wherever she is, she will be able to persevere on her own. He knows she's a fighter and a survivor. It's one of the qualities that he loves and admires about her. Of this, he has faith...but perhaps the amount of time remaining for her is of a lesser quantity than the longevity of Jag's faith in his wife.

Again, the stress and heavy hearted concern began to take over in Jag's mind, starting to overwhelm him again as it had at times in the week before he bought his elekk. Luckily for Jag, this time, exhaustion won out and he was in a deep and comfortable slumber before the panic could claim a sturdy hold on him.

The candle in the bedside lamp burned down into nothingness and went out itself, a couple of hours later.

It has now been a little over one week since Jag set out from the Ammen Vale in search of his family and the truth. The journey has taken Jag from Bloodymyst Isle into the alluring forests of Ashenvale, and then from there into the dark, haunted land called Duskwood.

His time in Duskwood had a depressing effect on him. He began to think about what a dreadful place it was, but also that it was admirable that in the midst of all the darkness and spooks, Darkshire's human inhabitants were banded together, living in and defending their one small safe haven of a town. There was a clear interdependent bond between each person and every other person. When complete understanding of Darkshire's circumstances hit Jag, he stopped, looked down at the cobblestone path on which he stood, and muttered, so quietly that he was sure no one else could hear him, "at least they're not enduring this alone."

Jag could not help but think about his own personal circumstances, how he was not alone, exactly, though it certainly felt that way most of the time. Sure, he had Serac and his friends, but they were off in distant lands, conquering far greater evils and battling personal demons and/or a series of unpleasant circumstances of their own. Jag rarely contacted any of them, for he didn't want to trouble them for something that surely he could handle or figure out himself. Moreso, he didn't want to become a nuisance. Then they probably would grow tired of and annoyed with him and drop him out of their alliance. Then he really would be alone. Totally and officially alone. Jag knew he had it in him to conquer most of the obstacles before him by the might of his own physical strength, the power of his shamanistic magic, and the wisdom that comes innately with age. Serac and his friends were a last resort, were things to get really bad or particularly tough. The last thing Jag wanted was to be a nuisance. But he also didn't want to be, or feel, alone.

And yet, Jag was still alone. Mangoni, his newfound younger brother, had not been seen or heard from by Jag since that infamous Monday. Jag tried through the week to get in touch with him through the mailing system, but alas, either Mangoni was not around or he was accepting the mail without responding back to the sender. Or maybe someone else was grabbing Mangoni's mail on his behalf. Maybe something bad happened to Mangoni. At the thought of this possibility, Jag snapped out of his quiet contemplation and wondered, "is there some kind of conspiracy going on?" Perhaps whatever happened to Jag is related to the disappearance of his family, and whatever may have happened to Mangoni could have been done by the same individuals responsible for what happened to him! "Perhaps these individuals don't want me to find out the truth and are determined to keep me in solitude, without new allies and friends and without a chance for any progress to be made in my search!" he thought aloud, "Perhaps these same individuals came after Serac and his friends, but they were able to overpower them or cause them to flee…while Mangoni was the one who was overtaken!" It was all groundless conjecture at this point, probably completely off the mark, but still a possibility. Jag wouldn't wave away its likelihood of actuality until Mangoni stepped back into the picture. Then, after an explanation of his absence, these newly generated worries could go away and Jag could go back to contending with his older worries, the ones he's had since the start.

But, in the meantime, Jag was still, for the most part, alone.

That is, until he got a letter from Serac. In it, Serac asked Jag how he was doing and if there had been any change in Duskwood. He also had sent along a coin pouch. When Jag opened it up, he was nearly blinded by the vibrant, golden-colored light reflecting off the coins within from the moon overhead. Inside, there was twenty gold and a small piece of parchment. On it, the message "We thought you could use a regular companion. I hear the elekks sold by the Exodar are reliable mounts. ;) " was written. So Serac and his friends were worried about him after all. They knew of his plight and once again had shown themselves to be extraordinary allies, particularly generous ones, at that. "Perhaps," Jag thought, "I should start making a sincere effort to become friends with these people, as opposed to seeing them as just allies." And then, with a smile on his face, he made the long trip from Darkshire to the Exodar, where he purchased a strong gray elekk from the breeder and paid for riding lessons. During the lessons, Jag fell off a few times at first, but mere moments after the last fall, Jag was looking like a natural.

Even though the day started out low enough, it was certainly now the best day Jag had had since the day he found out Mangoni was his brother. Because now, he was no longer alone.

----------------------------

Big news! I got promoted in the guild yesterday! TWICE! It seems my RPing has earned me a small fanbase in my brother and his roommates/friends, and it also helps my cause that I'm a blue leveling rocket. I hit level 40 last night. I think I've only been playing for three weeks. I've shattered my previous record with my tauren shaman. I'm playing a shaman better, and smarter, and I just know that I'll be 70 within the next month and a half. How sick would that be, to hit 70 in about 1/3 the time it took me the last time around!

I spent a whole hour two nights ago coming up with what would happen to Jag from level 48-60. Of all things, I found myself having to explain a desire to go to the barber shop to remove Jag's sideburns (tentacles, apparently, are a type of Draenic facial hair...Why would a Draenei remove his own tentacles!? -_- ). It progresses Jag's story, concludes an arc, and sets up well for the next one, explaining why Jag runs through the Dark Portal. It really only gets better from here.

It has been three days since Jagauric began his journey. He is now much stronger and knowledgeable in the ways of a shaman. It feels comfortable, as though he's been doing it his entire life. Serac and his friends have not been around much in person to help Jag out, but he has received many letters from them wishing luck and continued success.

Yesterday afternoon, he found himself in his first group, doing a bunch of quests on Bloodmyst Isle. It was a very comical, pleasant experience, and Jag was very happy to realize in retrospect that he'd probably made some friends out of it. Then, yesterday night, he bumped into the Draenei warrior, Mangoni, from the group at Blood Watch. The two of them grouped up again and started working on more quests together. During this time, Jag and Mang really got to know each other. Mang had a real sense of humor and was quite skilled in combat. In fact, his combat prowess was made even more impressive by the fact that he too, was just starting out on a journey of his own and had never even gone out adventuring before! Almost immediately, Jag had a lot of respect and admiration for his new good friend.

Today, the most amazing thing happened. Jag found a younger brother he never knew he had. It turned out that Mangoni and Jag both had the same mother! Ironically, they each greatly resemble their fathers and this is why they didn't make the connection sooner! It was their similarities in used facial expressions, diction, and other traits that made them begin to think. Jag and Mang were both very elated at this revelation. The good friends were now close brothers. There was never any awkwardness. Bonding began yesterday, before they even knew of their blood bond! Beating out crossing paths with Serac, this was the happiest event to happen thus far in the journey! As happy an occasion as it was though, because Jag didn't know Mang was his brother until this day, Mang wouldn't possibly be able to shed any light on what happened to Jag. "At least," Jag thought, "I have a new brother that can join me in my quest for the truth. We'll venture together and have each other's backs." They may not have grown up together, but now they would live out the rest of their lives with the other firmly in it.

At the time the revelation struck, Jag had been in Ashenvale, en route back into Darkshore to head by boat from Auberdine back to Azuremyst Isle, to trek back to the Hidden Reef just offshore of Bloodmyst Isle to complete his shamanistic Call of Water quest. Mang had been questing in Darkshore. Now though, they were both in Darkshore. Jag had decided to visit his "new" brother in the forest. Once he found him, together, they thought they ought to drink in celebration. So off to Auberdine they went to buy some mead from a vendor. Sadly, when they got there, they could not find a single vendor that sold alcoholic beverages. Furthermore, other members of the Alliance present claimed that they weren't strong enough to handle alcohol anyway, though they were mighty close to being so. In the absence of booze, they figured chugging ice cold glasses of milk would suffice, for the time being at least. Then, Mangoni took out some Red Speckled Mushrooms from his backpack and they each ate one of them. It was brotherly bonding at its finest.

Sitting there in the Auberdine inn, Jag then asked after finishing his glass of milk if Mang would be interested in joining him down to the Hidden Reef. Mang was honored and accepted the request. Thoroughly loopy from whatever was in the milk (no worries about the shrooms… -_-), they ventured off to catch the boat and make the trip all the way to the Hidden Reef.  At some point along the way, Jag grew concerned that perhaps Aqueous would not take kindly to him bringing a non-shaman into his domain. Jag soon pacified the thought, though, by considering that kindred relations outweighed cl@ss or so he hoped. Thankfully, Jag seemed to be right, as Mangoni was embraced, not chastised, by the water elemental.

It was a special moment for Jag and Mang. It was an important occasion for Jag in his studying of the ways of the shaman, and it was a unique opportunity for Mang to bond further with his older brother and to witness and celebrate Jag's accomplishment, at a level that seemed deeper than most could ever reach (no association with the depths underwater intended). Mang was witnessing one of Jag's four Rites of Passage, if you will. This was a rare opportunity indeed. Jag was beaming to have his brother by his side.

And so things have changed now, drastically. Three days in and Jagauric has already found himself an alliance with a band of trustworthy strangers and a brother he didn't know existed until now. If this is a sign of what is to come, then we can only hope that Jag is prepared enough to meet head-on what lies beyond the fog of the future.

On the seventh day of the month of November in the year 2008, a Draenei male by the name of Jagauric was found standing alone and slightly confused near Ammen Vale on Azuremyst Isle. He had no memory of his life before that day. He knows that he must have had a family and friends, but none of them are with him and he can't begin to search for them because he doesn't remember their names or what they looked like. He is a living tabula rasa, a blank slate of a being.

He approaches the inhabitants of the nearby crash site – at least that's what it looks like – and they ask politely if he'd run a few errands for them in the nearby blue-green fields. Jag obliges. Once out in the fields, he realizes that he can conjure forth lightning bolts from his hands, and can heal his own injuries as well. "These are shamanistic powers," Jag thinks to himself. "Perhaps this is who I was before…or who I am now meant to become." It is equally possible that either scenario is the truth. On one hand, a part of whatever happened to Jag must have caused the complete erasure of his memory and thus erased his knowledge of the shamanistic way and powers along with it, leaving him no choice but to start over, relearning all that he once knew and had mastered. On the other hand, he could have had entirely different strengths and an entirely different role in his past but now, as a result of whatever happened to him, he now possessed the potential – and certainly the power - for becoming a wise and powerful shaman. He would need to find out exactly what it was that happened to him, if not simply because that might be the one key towards finding those that were important to him and loved by him in his past.

After about an hour in the fields, Jag encountered a dwarf paladin by the name of Serac. From looks alone, Jag could tell that he was in the presence of a very powerful paladin indeed. Experienced and vetted way beyond his years. After pleasant introductory protocol, Serac offered to help Jag out with his errands.

Under all his shiny armor and the tough façade, Serac sincerely felt for Jag. He could not imagine what he was going through, not knowing where he was, why he was there, or even really what he should do next. It was not long before Serac decided that he would do everything in his power to aid Jag in reclaiming his past and taking charge of his future.

Jag had no words. Here, a complete stranger was seemingly spontaneously offering to become a loyal ally. Not wanting to come off as arrogant or ungrateful (or a fool), he graciously accepted the offer, and together, they completed the errands.

It seemed to be the beginning of a grand journey. During the walk back to Ammen Vale, Serac assured Jag that not just he, but all his fellow comrades as well - some of which were Draenei themselves – would be quite willing to assist Jag in any way they could. It was all Jag could have hoped for, really. Serac and his friends would be able to give Jag guidance and support in battle and out. He would not have to do this alone.

And there it is. Armed only with the poor quality leather armor he found himself wearing, a primitive mace, his loyal nature, and his jovial personality, Jagauric has set off in the hopes that he will come to discover what happened to him and learn the whereabouts of his family and dear friends. He does not know what obstacles he will face, where this journey will take him, or what – if he finds it – the truth of his story could be, but what he does know is that he has the backing of a handful of new friends, who less than a day ago were just a bunch of absolute strangers.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

To clarify, Serac is my brother's main character, while his friends (whose names will pop up in later chapters) are his roommates and close friends at AIW.

I knew coming into an RP server that I'd have to come up with some background story for my character. This came to me easily enough, but since then I've found that as with all stories, Jag's story must progress. As stuff happens in the game, Jag's story evolves and advances. As such, I've been writing chapters to his story, each time something new and significant has happened. My brother and other guildmates love them. It's given me a real chance at unleashing my creative streak. For a math teacher, my writing skills are surprising even myself.

So I was wondering...how many of you would be interested in reading the chapters of Jag's story, if I were to post them here?

As Death Knights take over Stormwind in droves and Northrend quickly goes from untamed continent to yet another playground for colorfully geared avatars, my own journey continues. Jag is now level 31 and has his lvl30 mount. He's doing really well with Skinning, Leatherworking, and First Aid. He has Windfury Weapon and Flurry. Life is good. Slowly but surely, Jag is beginning to feel and play more and more like DK (my lvl70 shaman on a different server, from my last tour) used to. And that's a really good thing. DK was something of a shaman god, and Jag's doing even better than he was.

I'm going to be completely honest and say that I have practically been ignoring this site since last week. I just have no need to, now that there aren't any games on the near horizon to look out for. So don't be offended if you don't see me dropping comments on your blogs. It isn't because I suddenly don't like you anymore, it's because I'm not here.

Happy gaming, everyone!

Over the course of the last three days, I've gotten him to level 21. Questhelper is definitely a big help.

I hate to admit it, but my brother has managed to corrupt me...again. I knew my chances of resisting were going to decrease a bit once the new expansion was announced, but I was doing so good and I really thought I still stood a chance. I was wrong. Today, my brother managed to convince me to reactivate my WoW account. My third tour of WoW has begun.

I'm doing things completely different this time, for the most part. Since I'm pretty sure there's nothing waiting for me on my old server except for my old characters (no guild anymore, all my other friends quit or faded away), I'm moving over to my brother's server to be with his friends in their guild. That makes sense since he's dragged me back into the fray. Instead of Horde (which I love to death), I'll roll Alliance this time. We'll see how that goes. There are very few Alliance locales that I actually enjoyed back during the first tour. At least I'll be playing as a shaman again. There are truly only a couple of cl@sses that I actually feel skilled and comfortable in playing. Druids, hunters (kind of), and shaman. My previous main was a shaman, and he was awesome. I love shamans to death. So I'll be a Draenei shaman, and I'll try my very best to make him super bad*** looking. His name, will be Jagauric. Pretty cool, I say. Jag (as in Jagged Fel from Star Wars EU lore) + Auric (made up name, I think...might be from Power Rangers, of all things). So people can call me Jag, or Auric, and I am referred to by a really cool name either way, hehe. It actually beats my other shaman's name in that respect. That one's name was Dyamikaga, a name only I seemed to be able to pronounce correctly. So I adopted the nickname DK and that reigned for the duration.

This is such a bad idea for so many reasons. And yet I'm doing it anyway. I have work. I have Star Wars books I want to read really badly so I can catch up. I have DS game backlog, with more games on my list and a slew I'm looking forward to next year. And here I am, starting up WoW again. What is wrong with me? There must be something wrong with me. This is the power of WoW. Never start. Just...don't. You may think you've moved on, but it's always there waiting for you to grow weak for a mere moment. It's all so sad. ;)

...because at this moment I am not weeping, I am not throwing things against the wall, and I am not shouting out profanities at the loudest volume my voice can muster. The temporary wave of upset and anger and fear has dissipated, and in its place, is hope. Not the kind of hope that goes along with the Change that Obama's been prescribing. It's not that kind of hope because I have never believed in that kind of hope and won't start now. No, my kind of hope is different. My hope is that everything I've heard and learned about the man over the last few months, or at least a great deal of it, was completely false, partially exaggerated or fabricated, or a part of his past that no longer holds any sort of claim to the man he is today. I want to believe that the kind of change he has been promising throughout his entire campaign is a good kind of change, a kind of change that all Americans will be able to embrace and get behind, not just those who voted for him. I would absolutely love to grow to like him. I would absolutely love to learn to trust him. I hope he can do a good job. I hope he doesn't ruin the country. I hope this isn't the start of Obamageddon, as some clever journalists have foreseen. I'm all for giving people a chance, an opportunity to prove themselves. I suppose politicians can fall under this particular category of "people" as well. So, I'm all for giving President Obama a chance.

Besides, how could I actually get away with being upset and angry when I was witnessing history on my TV screen? Sure, he's the 44th President of the United States of America, but he is the first freakin' African American President EVER. And to think that thirty, forty, fifty years ago, the country was still deep in all that stupid Civil Rights stuff, all that idiotic bigotry. As someone who was raised and believes he is colorblind, I have never really understood why all that happened in the first place. Every human being is a freakin' human being. End of story. But that's not how everyone was brought up to think in years past. It seems that we as a nation have now turned a new leaf on the matter. For this, I am celebrating Obama's election. I may not like the guy at present, but I can admire him for his determination and perseverance and for the courage he showed he possesses when he first decided to run for the esteemed position of President of the United States. The fact that he won tells a lot about today's Americans and about him. It is because he overcame so many obstacles and now stands on top, grandly making his way into American history, already leaving behind a great legacy, that I celebrate his election. Best of luck, I say.

This [hopefully] concludes my politically-themed blog posts for at least a long time. Thanks for bearing with me. Good night and God bless. :)