FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
WORLD’S END TAVERN, SHATTRATH The latest WoW blogger to be outed by WoW Insider has declared: “I’m still the same old face-melter”.
Speaking from one of Shattrath’s more salubrious watering holes, the self-styled ‘Misery’ — or Merlot to his friends — recalled how he came to join the ranks of struggling WoW bloggers.
“I was just another honest, hard working shadow priest looking for a gig at 70. I knew I was ready to take on Illidan but the guild masters around these parts had other ideas. They wanted ‘experience’; they wanted ‘better gear’. I mean, wtf, everything I wear looks the same man.”
So he started a blog as a way to let off steam and set himself apart from the ranks of other adventurers drawn to Outland by the promise of gold and glory. This sometimes witty, sometimes tragic, always heartfelt account of his true-to-life experiences is what first captured the attention of blogging titans WoW Insider.
Close friends tell of the two distinct sides to his personality; the ruthless ambition that drove him to the dark side, and the frivolous, playfulness that leads him now to drop shadowform and let us see him in all his colourful glory, if only for a moment.
“It isn’t always like this,” he said, gesturing to the bar wenches hanging off each arm. “I can be serious too, you know? I have ideas. And I’m not done with Illidan yet, either.
“But at heart, I’m still the same, honest, grafting mana battery my loyal fans have come to know and love. I won’t let this one link change me. I’ll still move in flame wreath, I’ll still dot up the sheep, and I’ll still do my best to top the death meters.”
What next for this plucky purple priesty now that fame has come knocking?
“Uh, I dunno man. I’ve been a little short on the spondoolicks, you know? I need to get back to Quel’Danas and grind some gold for one of those sweet epic flyers. And I hear there are a couple of grons in Blade’s Edge Mountain that need putting in their place. I might head there when I’ve finished here.”
He ostentatiously orders another round for the entire taven, putting it on his tab. The bar manager looks confused but starts pouring.
Suddenly, he jumps to his feet, summons the shadows, and bursts into dance. As he swings his arms and gyrates his hips, the wenches giggle and clap and dance along. One or two gruff warrior types roll their eyes and look away, disgusted.
He winks at me. “You should check out my blog man, it’s imba.”
I leave the tavern wondering just how much danger those ogres are really in.
Bitten off more than I can chew
1 day ago