Category Archives: Ceniza

September 22: Crisp

ceniza apple



O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

Coconut Grass Hair Orangutan

coconut monkey

My writing mojo has been a bit…wilted. Not sure why. Well, I suspect things, but denial runs deep in me. Driving home today I saw this thing on the road that looked like a huge pile of coconut grass hair. It was probably just an old T-shirt and sadness, but it reminded me of those monkeys made from coconuts, but it was fairly large, so I made it into a road orangutan. Pitiful thing. I must memorialize it.

So many random thoughts. “Ceniza” earned her cloak the other day. I am a terrible mage. It made me think of all the qualities of true alt players: we truly are Jack of All Trades, and Master of No Specs. I can’t play Arcane, Frost, and though I raised her as Fire, even Young Leet Druid tells me, “Fire is too hard.” It is. The cast times are ridiculous, the procs are far too tier gear dependent, and Ceniza just looks pissed off most of the time. But I love her, you know? She’s sad, and complicated, and passionate: she wants to set the world on fire, but the counter-spells are too strong. I wish I could just hug her, and kiss her fevered brow. It’s going to be all right, sweet mage…

ceniza cloak


This is when I just want to cry. It seems that none of my beautiful girls know where they are headed. When my misperceived free will questions my faith that I can change things, be better, do better: it is not meant to be. But you are still beautiful, Ash Witch.


Awesome on ice…*

Always some new old magic...
Always some new old magic…I had NO IDEA these whelpings existed!

Today’s word of the day from Visual Thesaurus is “theurgy.”

As If By Magic Word of the Day: theurgy

If you’re wearing your Greek etymology hat you might suspect a god lurking here, and you’re right: theurgy is magic performed with the help of one (or more). Bonus points today for two other more common English words ending in -urgy that denote a kind of skill or craft (in both cases, a slightly more mundane skill than magic).

Considering Harry Potter needed Ron and Hermione as much as he needed his wand, (if not more so), they practiced theurgy on many occasions: a fancy Greek word for ‘magical teamwork.’ We can’t do everything alone, and we can’t do everything together. We bounce around like atoms, paradoxically touching/not touching. Shifting from summer to autumn is one of my most hopeful times of the year. Please remind me of this in the deepest depths of northern darkness, around the winter solstice, when I suppress the urge to set the house on fire just to remind the sun to come back. I love this time of year–I leave Azeroth a bit more, remind myself of other forms of stories and ideas, and harvest new ideas. I had planned on doing a lot of writing this summer, but instead I did none. I don’t have a reason or explanation, no rationalization or justification. I just didn’t. I don’t want to label it, analyze it, or deal with it. I just didn’t. I appreciate that others continue to harness the power of the ‘Azerothian Writers‘ and keep us moving forward. Thanks also to Erinys for this post with careful circumnavigation of spoilers. I think the thing is — (and here I said I wasn’t going to analyze) –I often don’t write simply because I feel it’s all been said before by far more interesting people. And then…and then I will listen to a This American Life episode, hear a story about a “normal” person, and be completely in awe.

I HUGELY annoyed CD Rogue last night when after raiding, and by and large ignoring him, I asked him that he should ask me about my day once in awhile. Why do I start these conversations at 10:30 at night? /swears We can’t fit it all in, I suppose. He just doesn’t want to hear my stories, presented on my metaphorical stage when I interrupt his important routine. I get it. PlaidElf and I were chatting, and talking about paladin tanking – she said “So much of our awesome has cool downs.” * Ain’t that the truth, sister? We all need cool down time.

So join me, fellow Azerothians – listen to something different, read something new, think about something other than Azeroth for a little while.

Here are some I highly recommend:

How do you solve a problem like Ceniza?

But baby, you always look hot...
But baby, you always look hot…

Ceniza, my dear, keep trying. I talked Hawtpocket into letting me take Ceniza into the first two wings of SoO normal, and with her mixed bag of gear and her human’s many struggles trying to make Fire Mage viable, she hobbled along. She managed to get some upgrades, but until it’s tier, it’s toast.

Ceniza’s spells…with jelly

Oh , and that Black Prince buff? Lies. All lies. She needs six seven more Titan Runestones, the heart of Lei, exact change for bus fare, soliloquies with dragons, four Celestial beat-downs, lint from a bumblebee’s bellybutton, and a stern talking-to before she gets that cloak. Why do I even want it? It doesn’t really matter. She’s always been the afterthought-mage, but still tugs at my heart. She lights match after match to get that pyroblast to proc, and then slips on ice and misses the target. She has a lot of pride, though, and is meaner than a warlock, so watch out. She’ll get that cloak, and in due time. Just you wait.


RTMT: Slight of hand…

Chibi Maker is so addicting…

This morning’s Random Tuesday Morning Thought is brought to you by “Wait a minute. What just a red-hot minute.” 

Someone’s, something’s, wait. What?


A whole lot of mage information just blew my mind this morning, and here is what I’m trying to synthesize: Blizzard, WoWInsider, and Ceniza, this is what you’re telling me:

1. I should have been focusing on Ceniza this whole time? New talents? New powers? Mages were just being neglected for the time being…but still needed? Still wanted?
2. WoW Insider lets go of my favorite mage writer, and then writing this column…wait, what? (Favorite mage writer link) Why? Why can’t Vid still be writing this? Doesn’t seem right. 
3. This is a deep reminder to play characters and classes we love, and who cares if they are weakened, marginalized, and neglected? Their time will time!  Flame on, Ceniza! 

Why, why is it, every time a mage is involved I am enchanted and cheated all at the same time? Damn, mages, priests, and warlocks – oh my. The three of you made a trifecta of awesomesauce. Okay, Ceniza. I hear you. You’re biding your time with the walrus men, but I won’t neglect you before WoD, promise. You might turn me into a newt!

Damn, no more time to write about mages and Ceniza this morning. Must blink away…

Music to listen to while crying about mages:
Dahahka sent me this message for some Lent songs: 

Hopefully most of these will be new to you, and you can share your favourites with the world!
First up we have my favourite songs from the Bastion soundtrack:
Now, today’s Band Of The Day is an outfit called The Whitlams (Gough Whitlam was a famous Prime Minister in Aus history). All these songs are from their debut album, Eternal Nightcap.
I think this first one will appeal to you, just personality-wise. You Sound Like Louis Burdett:
This is a really powerful story told over three songs..Charlie No. 1: Now, Pay Later (Charlie No. 2): No. 3:
To round off this band are, fittingly, the first and last songs on the album.
A song that I have identified with many times over the long, lonely years…No Aphrodisiac: another kind of whimsical one to finish up…Band On Every Corner:
And just because I can, I will share a great Japanese song [sic] Aruku Around (Walking Around):

Story Time: The Ash Witch of Theramore

The letter came by goblin messenger:
I hope this does not find you well. In fact, if I could have had one wish, it is that you would have died along with the rest of the Theramore scum, but alas, I know you did not. My sources inform me you lived, and have been seen wearing black, as if in mourning. Laughable, wench. But with the scrapings of respect I can muster for the likes of you, I must humble myself and share a request. If I am not transparent in my motives, and forthright in my honor, then I shall be no better than you. Understand I do not hold John’s memory to the fire in the same manner I would put you to the crucible’s pestle. He was a hero. You are a hero’s doom. 

Your affair with my brother-in-law is common gossip for the sniggering fools who serve my family. It is the fodder that the servants chew on when our backs are turned. Thank the stars there were no children from that union. The shame you have brought to the Aden family is devastating. 

It is this: my sister has not recovered from the loss of John, as you seem to have. You have left a wake of destruction larger and wider than Garrosh’s mess in the Barrens. It is my request that you never show your vile, freakish Draenei face in Kalimdor, or so help me I shall have you assassinated on sight.
You are a whore Ash-Witch.
An angry scrawl of a signature blemished the edge, but Ceniza knew whose hand it was, that of John’s sister-in-law, Victoria. She wondered if John’s wife knew of its contents.  Knew? Velen’s britches, she probably dictated it to Victoria! Susannah Aden was not a fool. She would not get her hands sullied in unveiled murder plots; however her sister would have no qualms.
Death by dishonor. There were moments after the destruction of Theramore that Ceniza thought of Victoria’s threat, and it rang like a promise, clear and sweet, like church bells on a spring morning. All she had to do was take the ship to Ratchet, and walk the gangplank to the docks. If the threats were genuine, Victoria would keep goblin mercenaries on the payroll who’d slit Ceniza’s throat. She could be dead by nightfall, and away from the pain. An added benefit, as opposed to taking her own life, would be that Victoria and Susannah would be captured and tried for this scheme, and swing from the gallows’ poles.
Ridiculous fantasy. A lieutenant’s wife hanged for killing his slut mistress?
No one ever means to fall in love with someone they can’t have. There was never a justification, a rationale that would soothe all parties. A promise is a promise. And a broken promise is a broken heart.
On a mage research jaunt, seeking out Jaina Proudmoore’s tutelage, Ceniza, a wall-blinker, got lost in the little circular naval port. There was one strong figure that stood watch on the western point, never flagging in his duty. He saw the mage wandering around the second time, smirked when he saw her blink into a wall, chuckling about the sort of company Lady Proudmoore kept in that tower of hers. He was sworn to protect the Lady, and his men and women who served the wobbly King Varian. These were dangerous times, and unease in static routines and the smell of treacherous whispers.
Ceniza never cared for human males. They were small, bristly, and ludicrously serious. At least with a Dwarf or Gnome you could have a friendly drink, and some laughter.
Aimless, and lost. Ceniza surrendered to help. Lt. Aden was the north star of Theramore, the pivotal point, a landmark made of man. She stood almost facing him though he on his horse, and her on her own two hooves. Ceniza spoke fluent common language, without a trace of an accent. This caught him off-guard, her voice. A voice like a kiss, a hug around his soul. 
He loved and respected his wife, but did neither of them well. The love was dry and overcooked, and the respect a reheated obligation. If the navy rewarded lieutenants for tolerating crumbling responsibilities, he would have received the highest distinction. This was no excuse for his broken vows. His wife knew, of course. She had no proof but the falsely reluctant tattling of envious confidants. She was in Darnassus, however, and busy with the Worgen refugees and other charitable causes. She met the gossip of friends with mild disinterest, denial, and dismay over their callous beliefs. As long as her social standing in court was safe, he could do as he pleased, she supposed. But he had better do it more discreetly. She never nagged him, scolded or belittled him. Susannah Aden displayed perfection as a military officer’s wife. She was sweet, charitable, and giving. People forget love does not play favorites. It makes no matter that John was loyal or Susannah kind and dull, with deafening good intentions. Love is no advocate for the good-natured. If it were, John Aden never would have given that Draenei mage a second look.
Does anyone need to hear the whole story? How they kissed? When they would meet, and how? The burden of guilt and shame, or the understanding it would never end happily? Stolen, all of it. Fenced goods at a high price. They were beginning to pull away from one another so at least it would end amicably. Every meeting began to feel more sordid and cliché. Privately, anyway, that’s what they tried to convince themselves of, that fate had no other course.
Before the end, they met in Ratchet, and in the course of their afternoon, at very inopportune moments, the sound of buzz saws ripped the warm air. Neither found fulfillment in each other’s arms that day, and that was the last time she saw him. They just laughed at the intrusive noises, making plans to meet again soon. She almost told him about a coin she tossed in the Dalaran fountain, but reconsidered. It felt ill advised.
Not long after that last meeting, the terrible day. The bombs fell from the grossly cheerful zeppelins, and death rained in blue. After Theramore’s Fall, she went to view the destruction. This was not wise. Her portal worked, but thrust her so far from where the tower had once stood; she would fall through unkind air to a bloody injury. The sharp rocks cut her knees, and the purple-blue residual ooze from the mana bomb smelled of burnt arcane power and death. She did not return again for a long, long time.
Her weeks were spent in hiding. She had wishes stored up, and wanted to know what others longed for too. Her own wishes had been so wrong and ugly. Months prior, she had tossed a gold coin in the Dalaran fountain and wished for John Aden to leave his wife. She had not wished that he would leave her, too. But the fountain granted all wishes, the intended and otherwise.
She fished in the pond for other coins, other wishes.
King Varian’s silver coin wished: “I wish the uprising back home would settle itself soon. I wouldn’t want anyone to be hurt.’
How could she have been so foolish? Magic, even white magic, will birth its counterpart. She learned this on this first day of the academy. Magic has rules; magic has lusts.
Sick irony left her without emotions, all but numb.
The gnome who lit her way was a ghost. The phantoms spawned around the world more frequently now. Once, she whispered to one, “John, is that you?” The phantom lingered longer than she expected, and vanished in morning smoke. 
Even now, she’s not sure what made her join the fight. One bruised afternoon in Dalaran, a Troll started gesturing crazily  at her, but it wasn’t mimicking or mocking. He genuinely seemed like he was trying to tell her something, motioning to run, move, or get out. She did. It saved her life. Jaina’s armies invaded that day, laying waste to every potential enemy. Ceniza’s association with the Scryers may have cost her her life. Fleeing to Booty Bay, it was only a ship ride’s breath to Ratchet. She took her chances, tired of hiding from the phantoms, and decided John would want her to control her own future. She would not allow Garrosh to kill him twice: one mortal life, and one life of love. As for Victoria’s letter, Ceniza balled it up, tossed it in the air, and scorched it to cinders.
One more port to Theramore before returning to Kalimdore. Ceniza remembered her shaman cousin kept healing rain tears in a amphora around her neck, healing rain that did not reach its target, but fell to the wash, and almost down the drain and gutters. Rain that did not perform its magic. Ceniza was the Ash Witch, and from the powdered remains of Theramore, she kept safe in her own vial, next to her heart. Ashes to ashes, rain falls on rain, and fire to cleanse it all away.

Are you there, RNG? It’s me, Ceniza…

Ceniza researches. Heavens, does that girl research. That is the nature of mages. Can’t help themselves: style manuals, index cards, cross-references and footnotes, poor things. It’s all about the source materials. As she’s looking for Arcane tomes around Dalaran, she came across this: So You Think You Can Cast: Frequently Asked Questions from First-Time Mages (author unknown, but by the pedantic tone, probably Jaina….)

 Ceniza, sorry to disappoint you, but this book lies. It is all about the damage. Maybe that career in hunting is not such a bad idea…

You know nothing, John Crow….

Ceniza felt oddly lucky. Some spirit dropped an egg in her bags, mysterious and pregnant with potential. She would have to be patient, though, because the spell of three is intractable. It wasn’t like she didn’t have plenty to do, though. The Darkmoon Faire was back in town, and though the spring skies were weeping and wounded, she knew the full moon hid behind the scenes. Jeremy Feasel was always a disappointment, but Rona Greenteeth: ah, yes. She trusted her like a mother. Rona always welcomed Ceniza in the rich woods, hidden from the other carnies and fire jugglers.

The egg was ready: one day, two days, and three: a green raptor! It matched her gown, and Rona’s teeth: it was exquisite! Rona cheered her on, stirring her stew pot, while Ceniza raced around the wagon’s grounds. Rona told Ceniza a secret: if she wanted a Darkmoon Crow, she would  have to double her patience, and triple her resolve. Ceniza read her spell book, and it said something about it spawning when other beasts were killed. She slew wolves, and flocks of crows would gather to pick the remains and discuss the day’s news; however, the crows were smarter and faster than she was. She thought there might be another way, so she resolved to try it. Wait and see, Ceniza. Wait and see.

World of Warcraft Pet Battles: Darkmoon Faire Crow

Tiny Story Time: Ceniza

The repetition of hope sinks it, drowns its buoyancy, and who was she to resuscitate it? No one. Powerless. Torn silks, and dirty, tear-stained face. The Ash-Witch scrambled for purchase on the rocks. Did she see a sign in the bird flights? Was he sending her a prayer in a rainbow? (Oh, the sickening, cloying stench of spectrums churned her stomach: if she could set fire to that thought she would.) Her intelligence told her to stop desperately looking for clues that he was watching her, protecting her. Obsessively, though: Could that be an omen in the bones? Bones were better to burn, and look to the smoke for an image, a direction. There was none that she could see. The bones and birds offered no solace. Only the living can protect or harm. The dead have other business.

But the sword was granted: this she knew. The grip, tang, and pommel were like three old friends in her hand, a living thing, perched like a wish. Once this sword had lived a mortal, animal life, and now existed in a fable: the guard was a wingspan, and the blade a predator’s beak. Did he send it to her? Most likely not. All the magic in any world would not have that power, she believed this.

Yet, the sword was hers: this she knew. And she knew what to do with it, too. That much, he had left behind: how to cut.

Project: Mage Rage

“All I ever wanted to do was study.”– Jaina Proudmoore, the Mage’s Mage

First: Apologies again to Cymre for my blistering blue language yesterday. Tome understands: once in awhile a girl’s just gotta say, “F#&!@*$.”

Who has my soul? The Beancounters.

Second: There may be brief moments of unfiltered rant. However, there might be some good information in here. I sacrificed harmony in my own hearth and home yesterday to get to its conclusion, (yes, things got a little ugly at the Matty-shack last night), so bear with me.

Ceniza is a mage I began for a guild: they needed a draenei mage for the Classy thing. It was while I was playing her that I g/quit that guild in defense of a player who was actually, unbeknown to me, may have been enjoying the trio of trolls of which she was the third party. No matter. They were all just joking, mmkay? The point is Ceniza was born of Ambitious Goals and Anger. Where my shaman evokes personality traits of fire, she also is the side of me that can cool things down, or dump a bucket of cold water on the situation. Zep the Priest is all light and shadow, and Ceniza: she is my fire girl.

This past week two things happened, one at work, and one in game. At work, I am trying something new and that ‘something’ took a big, fat misstep on Monday. No one got hurt, thank goodness, but I wouldn’t allow that to happen ever anyway. A colleague reported, (false isn’t the word because she didn’t think she was lying), but misinformation to my boss, and I got an earful (well, an e-mail-full anyway).  I spent pretty much all day Tuesday at meetings intermittently crying in frustration. Don’t you just LOVE ‘colleagues’ who support you, help, or just help by getting out of your way if they can’t do anything else? Yes, this colleague was not that. Awesome. 

Note to self: No good deed goes unpunished, so before you do a good deed, get ass protection. (Oh my sweet baby murloc I can just imagine the spam now.)

This has nothing to do with this next part, except to say perhaps I was already set up for grumpiness.

On Wednesday or Thursday, a dear friend mentioned there might be a spot on the raid team he was on, however–only for a mage. He is very aware, and we did talk, that Ceniza is a far down-the-list priority alt, and this character is no where near ‘raid ready.’ “Are you sure you guys don’t need a priest?” I repeated. “No, the RL is a priest.” 


They raid on Saturdays, my ‘sacred night of saving all that is dear to me,’ night, so I can’t go regardless. BUT — it did pique my interest: With the supposed changes with 5.2, and the other two characters I have who are qualified, what would it actually take to get a character like Ceniza ‘raid ready?”

This is a question each and every one of you should be asking yourselves. This is where we players make a choice: continue to appreciate and love a beautiful world and have fun, or rail at that Beancounters of Blizzard who continue to put unnecessary obstacles in our path? These “beancounters” are not unlike my colleague who snitched on me instead of bringing me her concerns directly. They do not have your back, in a manner of speaking.

The “rage” is not in the game, or the quests, or the gear: I finally, totally understood the pain of the gear gate-keeping that the faction reputations has caused. It absolutely, undeniably, SUCKS. That a player cannot pick up an alt, gear it up reasonably quickly with valor and drops, and just go effing play, is cause for outrage. I could only access two of the current LFRs because my gear score wasn’t high enough, and couldn’t get a higher gear score because I couldn’t purchase valor gear with my (unspent) valor because it required faction reps, and I couldn’t get more faction rep because I am only one human with limited play time. (Where is that shaman with that bucket of water when I need her?)

Consider this the ultimate make-over. I still wanted to see “what would happen if,”what if I had two evenings to get a IL464 character to IL470 in two days? (Consider: mages love studying – they love academic challenges. If you want to win a spelling bee, take a mage.)

I wanted to do this with a few stipulations. First, I didn’t want to go into gold debt and borrow gold from wealthier friends to buy gear. Second, there wasn’t much to be had. Third, I wanted to know empirically what would it truly take. 

The List

1. What gear does she have now?
Unfortunately, I didn’t get a screenshot before I got the cloak yesterday, but I’ll get to that.

Ceniza was at an IL of 464. I bought a belt that had eight higher points. Blizzard math that brought me to IL 466. I can’t even get into all of the current LFRs.

2. What rep does she have?

Ceniza’s fanfic story is a tragic one. That’s why she was hanging out on the farm. Reputation-wise, she didn’t have Jack-squat.

3. Now that Patch 5.2 is live, what should she do first?

*Go do both LFRs 
*Go do a dungeon or two and click the rep stats. 
*Prioritize on Shado-Pan since Honored status would get her a cloak. (See #1)

4. Go to Icy Veins and reeducate myself on her priorities. As my friend Krasher would say, for a fire mage like Ceniza it would have been: Intelligence>Dirty Vodka Martini>Passport>Matches, but no, it’s:

5. Prioritize those reps:
A. Get to honored with the Shado Pan. 
B. Go fight Trolls with the Kirin Tor for better gear.

Getting Honored with the Shado Pan wasn’t as easy as typing it: I died a thousand deaths killing those bugs all over again. I wasn’t even to the daily point with the Shado Pan yet. It brought back all those horrible, painful memories of when I was trying to bring Zeptepi through there. And boom goes the dynamite. That’s where the rage exploded. That’s where Cymre got her earful. I effffffffffing hate doing those quests all over again. But there was no other way. No other options. Though I had been through them twice before, it wouldn’t matter. 

The Kirin Tor have all the cool new shit:

And while I wish that all reputation was across the board for all alts, I also say to myself ‘be careful what I wish for,’ because after all—that is the fun of the game. Shh. You didn’t hear me say that.

In 5.2, the reputation changes are actually pretty cool, well — better than nothing I guess. The nothing being “I am going to cancel my subscription and take up knitting again,” so at least the Beancounters compromised there. 

On the LF  (looking for) tab, and on your rep, you can click the little star next to the faction you want to earn rep on. What I learned is that you can’t grind in one night, and this didnt’ seem to work in LFR, but only in dungeons, with the Tillers, and with the scenario. And it only works one run a day. (EFFFFINGBEANCOUNTERS!) However, the scenario topped me off last night (I played for three and a half hours, had dinner, and came back for two more hours yesterday) to put me over the Honored line. And thus: I got my cloak. So between Thursday and Friday, over ten hours spent on this project.

Why can’t I hit the Alter Time spell then, jerks?

I will play Cher’s Turn Back Time in your earhole

6. Understand rotation, macros, and spells:
Icy Veins has a comprehensive guide to all of this; however, it will take time. There are spells that came around the last patch I do not understand. They are as mystifying to me as a magician’s trick. 

Which brings up another point: maybe mage isn’t the class for me after all? Not sure. 

I “get” my shaman, and priest. I have had loads of fun playing Ceniza, but with every patch and loss of spells I understand, there is a reason why she was played less frequently. 

The most confusing spell for me is Alter Time.

Here is a video with a PvP focus on Alter Time:

Another clarifying video on Alter Time:

He does a great job of explaining Alter Time in the second video, and it’s clear he loves his mage. I don’t even understand Daylight Savings Time here in the States. I understand that I hate it.

And for the record, I think Rune of Power is stupid.

Because I’m stupid.

7. By which we go back to gear. So, Thursday and Friday afternoons into the nights are both spent doing quests, LFR, dungeons, etc. After all that effort, I got to IL 468, two points away from IL 470 so I could get into LFR to get a still slim chance of more loot. (I cannot tell you how discouraging it was to go into LFR for my 25th time after the patch to try to get that damn fist weapon again, and nothing. I think this is more about shaman rage, actually…but….yes, I need therapy.) Fortunately, my good guildmate suggested I go get some sleep, and today run Alterac Valley for some Honor Points for some decent come-ups in gear score. Okay, Senor, I shall. And I know for those serious PvPers out there, I shall endeavor to do my best.

8. Relax, chica.
So what if my head caught fire, my repair bills were nuts, and trolls had me for a midnight snack? Meh. No matter. My trusty pal Iocane more than cheered me up with a happy little pet I promptly named “Sweetpea” because that’s who Iocane is – a very sweet young lady.

Also, I got an electrified gator from a swamp. Cool, cool.

And: I am not this:

Was this helpful to any of you? Helpful in hammering in the fact you never want to play a mage? Helpful in confirming your opinion that I am batshit crazy sometimes? Well, in my defense I do love to learn new things. I learned that, wait, what did I learn? I learned I still need to get my taxes together, it’s a beautiful nearly-spring day, and that Azeroth will be there for me. Mages are a challenging class, and it’s those challenges that keep us engaged and interested. Without curiosity, all the cool cats would be dead and have nothing to show for it. It was time to get Cenzia off the farm, and see what she can do. Let’s see where this takes us.