THE MIGHTY YOPAAT: A Day in the Life

This post is me taking part in Z & Cinder’s Blog Challenge 20: A Day in the Life of Your Toon because for fuck’s sake I need to blog more often

The Mighty Yopaat, Farseer of the Earthen Ring

Has quite a ring to it, doesn’t it? It makes you think of power and dignity and other assorted stuff like that, right? Well let me tell you, I sure don’t feel it right now.

I seem to spend my time dogsbodying for that lazy mage Khadgar, performing meaningless errands for the disparate groups that pepper the Broken Isles, or babysitting so-called “champions,” telling them where to go and what to do. It seems the Kirin Tor are more interested in playing games with barrels than fighting the legion.

Let’s take today. I went to Aszuna. I freed some of those morose demon hunters and killed their captors. I picked some weird fel flower. I extracted murloc eyes from their heads and stole a hydra’s egg. I killed a ghost, which is surely impossible as they’re already dead. Another ghost gave me a box with nothing of interest inside. Tomorrow I may well end up in Val’sharah doing other pointless errands.

Ah, but you’re not here to hear me complain about my lot in life, are you? Yes, I do try and relax sometimes.

I spend a lot of time in The Legerdemain Lounge. They do the nicest coffee on Azeroth, you know. A rich, dark Kun-Lai roast, none of this icy Highmountain rubbish. I enjoy the kick, it gives me the spark I need to make my own brews. Not coffee, mind, but potions. See, in my spare time I indulge in a bit of alchemy. I refuse to pay those scalpers at the auction house for herbs, mind, so I go and pick my own. I’ve got quite the knowledge of herbs now, though I still occasionally disintegrate Starlight Rose. Fat furry fingers, you know?

The alchemy shop being opposite Like Clockwork is an annoyance though. Explosions and robots fighting day in, day out. At least I’m able to make potions without Deucus’s supervision.

I still see Thrall occasionally. He likes to ask me if I’m taking good care of Doomhammer. Haven’t the heart to tell him it’s collecting dust in the care of some goblins, along with Sharas’dal. Sure, hitting things with a hammer is somewhat cathartic, but I don’t want to fall into that trap of “if all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.” I much prefer to keep my distance, less chance of being bludgeoned myself, you know?

I don’t tend to socialise much. My fellow shamans tend to be rather stuffy and constantly in a state of elemental reverence, which is fine and all but take a break sometime, yeah? Not that other groups are better. The warlocks freak me out, the mages and paladins are full of themselves, the death knights and demon hunters are too… you know? Just too. Too much. And the druids? Worse than shaman! That said I do have a few friends I see every so often. There’s a warlock that seems less weird than the others, there’s a pretty cute monk I see meditating in Dalaran occasionally, and I know a rogue that opens locked boxes for me, and in return I give her potions. She’s got a missing eye too. Maybe I’ll ask her story one day?

Maybe not. She seems like that might be a sore point for her.

My eye? Oh it’s silly, really. You don’t wanna know.