I AM PANDA, HEAR ME ROAR
Actually no, please leave.
Yopaat is the storm personified. Yopaat is power and strength, Yopaat is the fire that burns in the centre of the world and the winds that rage around it. When Yopaat calls on the elements, they OBEY. Except for the times they don’t, but let’s not focus too much on that okay? That was a really tough time for me and I would appreciate you not bringing it up.
I AM THE ROAR OF THUNDER
I AM THE CRACKLE OF FLAME
I AM THE TREMBLING OF THE EARTH BENEATH YOUR FEET no not because I’m fat, how very dare you
THE MIGHTY YOPAAT needs not such petty things as “humility” or “depth perception” or “an indoor voice” for I am the master of the elements!
(except I totally took the Storm Elemental talent)
EAT MY TOTEM, YOU ABSOLUTE END-PIECE.
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.
Sure, when I joined the Alliance I was excited to join the Stormwind Guard, but for some reason here I am now as some sort of commander. I led an army in another dimension or something, and now my fellow Shaman are calling me the Farseer, and I’m helping some weirdo stop an invasion of demons while stationed in a floating city.
Aforementioned weirdo has a habit of popping up in the most irritating of places. I think he was trying to look in my storage boxes, see if there’s any magic paraphernalia he can purloin or something, but he made up some junk story about “oh I need to see you about some chandelier with an odd fixation on Malfurion’s brother” and I don’t believe him for a SECOND.
Life was simpler on the turtle.
I suppose there’s a bright side. I’ve learned some practical skills, like how to mix potions then subsequently sell them at a high mark up, how to fish and cook, how to summon small volcanoes beneath the feet of my opponents, you know, the usual stuff you need to get by. Every time I go near Things of the Past, some elf lady in there keeps trying to get me to learn Archaeology, but who has time for that? I apparently have a world to save for some reason.