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Hero, a word bandied about too often, but here, on this far flung battlefield, the soldiers held against forced beyond comprehension. Their one eyed leader looks battered, his robes torn, blood seeping through bandages. His fur is going gray, his lone eye milky. They had followed him in countless wars, through hell and suffering, and each knew…they knew…today….

”I don’t ask more then you can give…today I have to. If we fall here, if we fall now, everything falls with us.” The soldiers stir “We’re all thinking it, this is where we die, this is where we fall, this is the end of us. And maybe…to hells with that, we’re too outnumbered, too outgunned, the joke ends here. This is the punchline…”He trails off, the soldiers look grim, but he snarls and laughs “That being the case, we’re going to make them remember us. I want them to twinge in pain years from now, wake up screaming. I want our tattered banner in their nightmares, I want our faces haunting their quiet moments. I am the Laughing Warlock, you are the Warlock’s Own, we have marched on thousands of battlfields, and done the impossible, we safeguarded our kingdoms…our planet, and we will do no less today! Today we stand, today we fall, but we fall for the greater good, for our families.”

The soldiers let out a ragged cheer and take the battlements, the tattered banner he spoke of snapping in the wind, bringing the charnel house smell over the soldiers. But they are smiling. Each man, he knows he will die this day, and he is smiling, and the warlock, he’s laughing, a low long chuckle. One last joke then.

Fire. It always came down to fire. His fire, their fire, the world on fire, everything burned. The Molten Front now, a terrible offensive against a more terrible foe in an entire plane of fire. Another fireball slammed into the rock he was ducking behind, he snarls, his fur singed. It’d heal next time returned to his more human form, but right now, it HURT. It was time to end this, he was detached to this part of the front, holding the line while others moved forward, but he was sick and tired of deranged druids and mad elementals trying to fry the fur off him. He plants his paw and gives a kick, flipping over the rock with a grace not born of any human, something he’d gained once he became a Worgen, he snarls and his Felhunter skitters from behind the wock and bodily hurls itself at a druid, their scream dies as it rips at their throat. With a gesture a boulder smashes from the sky, and the Infernal unfurls and attacks elementals.
The tattered soldiers under his command since Northrend rally behind him, and he marches. His robes burn in spots, cinders setting tufts of his fur smoldering. But the fire in his eyes, that burned hotter then the pits of hell. He roars and charges, a Pyrelord before him, he stops just short and slams his staff into the ground, fire rains from the sky, HIS fire. Dark curses enshroud his enemy, and in mere moments it’s dead husk thunks hard against the ashen dirt. The Warlock turns, the tide turned for his men, he holds his staff high “Show these flaming bastards the the Warlock’s Own are no laughing matter” One of the soldiers hold aloft a tattered banner, a grinning demon enshrouded in warlock runes. These were his men, this was his spot to hold. He was once just a man. Now something else. He was terrible and funny and tortured. And he was on fire.And Those men had watched his desperate stand when Bolvar fell. They remember him slouching out of Icecrown, in the company of heroes, victorious, yet somehow broken. He was once just a man, but to them, he was a legend, they were terrified of him, and would follow him to hell for the love of him. To them, the Laughing Warlock…was no laughing matter.

The alley is dark, Stormwind in general at night was not the inky blackness of his childhood in Goldshire, but the thick smoke and haze of the Dwarven District near his home blotted out the stars and muted the street lamps. Like a blanket on the world, a sooty blanket that left his mouth tasting of metal. The two behind him had been following since his business in the magic district. He heard their mutters, even in his human form, his senses...he was still getting used to it, he'd gone down this blind alley on purpose. The beast was angry, and the man was in no mood either. He stumbles into the wall, feigning suprise and goes to turn, two figures in shadow, backlit by the dim lamps
"Why Charlie, looks like some poor gentleman has gotten lost, we should help him" The tall figure twirls a sickle in his left hand, it smells of copper. The shorter one chuckles "Of course Douglas, but mayhaps he'll see it in his heart to reward two such samaritans, after all, robes like those don't come cheap." Bloodwynde smiles, crinkling the scar that runs through his goatee, he chuckles, it wavers and trails off into nothing "Turn about, run home, and pray you forget this night, only chance, I'm being nice" The two advance "Charlie, I don't think this gentleman understands his situation" The shorter man brandishes a pair of pistols "Then lets teach him, Douglas" 
The Warlock laughs,uproariously, like he'd just heard the most amusing joke of his life.In a way he had. He doesn't summon the darkness, instead he lets the darkness inside him come free.His body tears and rips, his laugh growing more crazed, his would be attackers take a step back, he's hulking now, fur and claws, glinting fangs, and his laugh, now warped and twisted. "Oh boys, don't go, don't go, you've been such a laugh...and I do love a good laugh" terror breaks a horrible dawn in their eyes "Bloodw..." he's choked off by the claw round his neck, his friend never manages the word, the nearby lamp is splattered in red, casting a gruesome hue on the scene.Minutes later, the well apointed gentelman walks out of the alley.Two bodies left in his wake, no heads. Above them, on the stone wall, in their own blood..."To Douglas and Charlie, they were good for a few laughs, but the joke was far too short" Beneath it a crude smiley face ringed by Warlock runes.
The guards would know it was him, and they wouldn't touch him. He never hunted the innocent, and he kept the Dwarven District clean. But they would exchange nervous glances, each wondering what would befall the guard who DID cross the Laughing Warlock.After all, most common men considered the Laughing Warlock a bawdy joke, perhaps heard the dirty limirick. But the guards...the guards and those who they hunted knew. Cross the Laughing Warlock, and the joke was on you.As for the warlock, he slept like a baby, his stomach full, and his concience clear.

Lets face it, being a warlock is no picnic. Then again, I suppose it’s true for any class. As a warlock for…well, I don’t even know how long, I’ve seen us rise to the pinnacle of dps, and be ground under the wheel as little more than healthstone vending machines. I’ve seen countless warlocks quit the class, quit the game, and generally lapse into the doldrums when we get nerfed. Some of the nerfs have been minor, some near catastrophic, we were hit pretty hard at the beginning of Wrath, and crawled back up. I can’t actually say why I stuck with the class through some of the worst nerfs. There were times I hated my class, but I kept playing. Crazy right? But you know what? It paid off, we’ve actually been pretty rock solid since Icecrown, in face I haven’t seen on things I’d directly call a nerf. We have three specs that are viable for raiding, affliction is my flavor of choice, expanded utility with our new ability to battle rez, and we can absolutely rule aoe. So the big question, how big is the inevitable nerf going to be?

A nerf IS inevitable. unfortunately. As gear scales, different talents take on new characteristics, and the devs will scramble to keep things more or less balanced. It might be a big nerf, it might be minor, but it’ll come. It always does. For every high, there is going to be another low, the question is, can you stick it out? I can, I have, and I will again. It’s the great wheel, sometimes you soar skyward, sometimes you get your ass ground into the dirt. I’m sure we’ll be handy little soulstone and healthstone monkeys again at some point. And I’m just as sure we’ll be frying the top of the charts again after that. The wheel keeps turnin, and the fel fire…it just keeps burnin.

So, a warlock blog, that’s new right? Well, sorta. I’m going to explore things in my own little freestyle way. I’m by no means a number cruncher, though I may on occassion dabble in such things here, mostly I’m just going to muse on lore, why I want FRIGGING GREEN FIRE, and why so many long term warlocks seem unstable. So sit down, have a healthstone, and end enjoy the ride.