Some stories are best left untold, and some stories must be told to the world (this tale being the former) because they are so profound, leave such an impact, and reveal such truths that if they are not told the world is lesser for it.
I introduce to all of you, this tale of courage, triumph, tragedy, and mild to severe learning disability.
The hour was late, and the moon fell upon the Hinterlands, softly, as a mother would hold and cradle her newborn young. I had unplugged myself from this magical world for the night, when I look over on Colleena/Galactika's screen and beheld a sight which intrigued me: A lone rogue was harassing civilian and soldier alike. "A respectable endeavor", truth be told, is what I briefly thought to myself as I watched with some envy. "Oh, that's right", I exclaimed! "This is a great opportunity to test that stealth breaker macro I made!"
I reentered Azeroth through my interactive picture machine and began the hunt. Alas, the macro did not work for shit amongst other targetable enemies! I was distraught. I decided to sit on the road and wait out my foe. After all, a warrior like myself seldom has issue with baiting attack. It's as though we were an easy kill... I digress. My foe leapt upon me like a mischievous wild dog come to bite and suckle eggs from the hen house. I was ready. I chose to save my racial for the bursting finale, and instead I eagerly awaited the initial stun to subside, but alas! Two of my comrades came to my aid, unaware I sought a fair fight with the fellow. They began slapping the rouge as a pimp would an unruly whore, calling him names, kicking and beating him until he lay upon the ground, downtrodden and defeated. I could not blame my comrades, for he had pained their asses for nearly an hour before that. Understandably, there was thirst for his blood. Still, I was left feeling unaccomplished. Not only did I not get to test my stealth breaker macro, but nor did I get to test the other macros I had made. I was beside myself.
I continued to sit there on the road, until intrusive voices filled my head and spake unto me.
, the voice said in a well... mad sort of tone. I was insulted. "He, too, must have desired an honorable battle between men", I thought to myself. I spoke aloud in reply to the voice.
, I said, to convey that I shared his anguish. He heard me, and retorted.
, he said, presumably referring to Galactika, in one final remark. Reports immediately came in that he was back in the area. I was filled with confidence, and renewed hope. I journeyed even further from the Keep, determined that our battle this time would not be interrupted. I stretched my arms and legs, oiled the edge of my sword, readied my macros and began my patient wait. *SAP*... *SAP*... *SAP*... *SAP*... *SAP*... *SAP*... Each time I was excited, ready to counter attack with all my might... but the attack would not come. *SAP*... *SAP*... Still, the attack would not come. Long did I wait, when finally, my interactive picture machine screen flashed red to alert me that a foe had appeared. "Finally", I said aloud!
As quick as I could scroll out on my interactive picture box rolling hand remote, I was set upon by seven men. I felt betrayed. I should not have expected such a cunning strategist and tactician to engage me fairly, but I quickly snapped into my composure. It was time to activate LOLRETSTORM. No one disarmed my weapon, and they all clumped around me, futilely attempting to hit me with stuns and slows. Before I knew it, each of the seven men had less than half their life remaining. Alas, that I could not resist their sheer numbers. I fell upon the ground, defeated, watching my enemies celebrate with all their might around me, full with pride over their triumphant victory. High fives and vigorous back pats were passed all around. "If we can take down this lone warrior with only seven", they proclaimed, "then we should have no problem laying siege to the Keep"!
Away they went, charging the Keep. They took a few standing out front by surprise, and cut them down. The rally was called, and I picked myself up off the ground and joined them in the Keep. We clashed forces, numbers joining both sides, and we eventually won the first skirmish. It was a skirmish I made sure to help conclude with an unexpected LOLRETSTORM at their flank. I felt satisfied. The quiet did not last.
Everyone prepared themselves for the final confrontation. Just as they were making their push into the Keep, we did one final count to the numbers of both sides. It was twenty and six of them, ten and six of us. Disheartening, as these were not the seven to one odds they were initially hoping to maintain. "Go in one at a time!" I heard their commander shout. "That's how the Romans did it and it worked pretty well for them!" One by one they funneled in, staggering their assault carefully so that only one of their men was fighting at a time, and when he fell another man would immediately take up his rank. The battle raged on for what seemed like a minute, but was in truth closer to two. The end result was worthy of the tears that no doubt slid down the cheeks of many spouses, children, and friends that night when the news made it back home.
I searched and searched, trying to find the broken corpse of the man who started it all, that brave rogue and his quest for the one true 1v1, Voldemort. He switched his guild tabard twice during the battle, I assume in an attempt to throw us off. Very clever. As a result of his many disguises, I was unable to identify his body among the bones of his comrades, and thus was unable to offer him a proper burial. For a man of his unequaled honor, there is no more tragic an end, to die a nameless soldier in some nameless battle far from home. All that I am able to offer as tribute is to make sure his tale is heard by as many as will consent to hearing it. Let us all share a moment of silence, and dedicate our thoughts to his memory.