Resourceful Ulysses

The Grizzly Hills were becoming familiar. Rolance was beginning to recognize the faces she passed on her trek to the gateway; there was the lumberjack brothers (or at least she assumed they were brothers), four guards posted at a remote Alliance outpost from the war, and of course her new friend Redright.

She didn’t come for him though. She never had — even their first meeting in the frozen north had been a coincidence. She had been traveling and happened to meet him during an interlude. When she passed him now, if she ever did, she assumed they had a silent understanding as to where she was going. She didn’t need to say it to him. She didn’t need to explain it. And she liked Redright for that.

“Hey Uselesses!” She called into the cave. It was easier than saying his name, insulting him. It always had been. He and she never developed the same silent language as she and Redright had. If she had said something like that to Redright, he’d either tolerate it as a joke or swing at her to make a point. Ulysses had been more prone to taking it as an insult in life. “I got some goodies.”

As she made her way deeper into the stone walls that housed the gateway, she began to pull at her clothes. Now that she was out of view of the lumberjacks and the guards there was no reason for her to remain confined to her tunic and pelts. As they dropped to the floor, so too did she. Nude and shining with silvery titan-forged skin. 

“You’re lucky you left,” she said to the pond of angry red energy that laid just a few feet in front of her. “As it turns out, once you go metal you can’t do shit the same as before, right? Can’t drink, can’t get high. S’a sorry existence.” 

She tossed a pipe and a paper bag of mageroyal into the pond and watched as it bubbled and sparked and faded into nothing. A part of her liked to imagine that it would go to Ulysses in his realm — his favorite herb and something to spoke it with would be a welcome surprise. Another part of her hoped that he could never hear it when she spoke to him like this. After all, that would mean that he’s seen her vulnerable. And that never ended well. 

She leaned back against the cave wall and sighed. For hours she sat there, simply existing next to him. Her way of mourning. She sat in silence for most of it, thinking of the changes to her life and the changes she imagined Ulysses was going through himself. She slumped further down and crossed her arms. “I miss you hair,” she said miserably to the eldritch pool. “No matter what anyone else said about it.”

She wanted to say more; she always did. But for now, that would be enough.

Envy:

Gluttony:

Greed:

Lust:

Pride:

Sloth:

I remember you telling me once Uly got his ring fetish from you

This wasn’t the first time Rolance came home to an empty house. The most recent time had been a year ago, when she walked into her apartment in Stormwind and expected to see Ulysses waiting there for her. But he wasn’t. The first of many signs that he had left her without saying goodbye, and forever torn their relationship in two. But she didn’t want that. As Rolance stumbled into the dusty chambers of their her Dalaran apartment, she caught herself hoping that he would be there. She hoped that he’d be sitting at his desk chipping away at his work, or sleeping only to wake with a fond smile saved only for her… But it was empty. He was gone. Only this time it had been her who left him.

Rolance collapsed down onto the living room couch and began removing her plate armor and setting down her weapons. She could feel pieces of her charred flesh peeling from her when she removed her chest plate and the padding below it, though now without an anti-magic collar, that would heal soon enough.

For now, as she sit naked, she looked at her body. Her skin had twisted into angry red knots from the pyromancer’s flames. Skin that had once been without injury now was about to be covered in scars again, scars of the very same nature as before. She could also see the indentation on her skin, the scar of where the bullet had pieced her. She felt the lingering pain of it too, and knew that her nightmares would be plagued with the rooftop battle scene for years to come. Those were night terrors she knew she’d have to fight alone now. Nothing new. But there wasn’t much she could do about that right now.

Right now it was just a matter of numbing the pain. She laid down on the couch.

“I just came home from being in prison,” she said to a spouse who wasn’t there. Who never had been, and never would be again. “Just like when I died to the Crows, nobody came to save me… Well. Me in particular. The group was saved.” She smiled a bit ruefully. “But for me, I think the person who was the most visibly concerned was Kelly, and you know how she is… If she cares the most for you, that’s pretty sad.”

The light in her eyes dimmed. 

“Suppose I am pretty sad right now.” She reached out blindly for the bottle of rum she had left near the couch — she had been too stricken by mourning to sleep in their her bed, and it’s not like there was anyone to put it away. Just as she expected, the dusty bottle was still there. She raised it to her lips and took a sip from it. 

“I keep thinking of you,” she said to the empty house. “Do you know the shit I did for you? I stormed a Legion ship for you. I became a soldier for you. I learned how to manipulate time and space to bring you back from certain death…” She took another sip from the bottle. “Can’t think of any times you saved me. You said letting me die was something like payment for how I’d wronged you, if I remember right…” Another sip from her bottle. “This was just another time that you weren’t there, I guess. That I would have been if it were you in trouble.”

She could feel the eldritch working around her skin, mending her flesh and stitching it back together in strangely colored patterns. Once they had resembled and octopus, but the fireball had done well to distort the image beyond recognition.

“I should hope one day I meet someone who cares for me like I cared for you.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. She breathed in deeply through her nose, held it, then exhaled it through her mouth. She forced herself to relax. She reminded herself that it was alright, that there was nobody around. It was always a process, getting her walls down. She had them built up so high and so thick that letting herself be vulnerable, even in the comfort of her own home, it required intention. The logical part of her knew that it was best to get it all out lest someone see and perceive her as weak. The emotional part longed for a companion to keep her safe during this vulnerability. 

But time had told her that wasn’t a realistic wish.

And so, alone and in the dark and with only a bottle of rum to keep her company, Rolance forced herself to cry. Crying turned to sobbing as she curled her body up on the couch. She cried out of fear. She cried out of guilt. She cried out of self-pity. She cried out of anger for her fear, guilt, and self-pity. And she cried because nobody was there to cry with her, and nobody ever would be.

Now and forever, all she had to bother returning home to was an empty house. And they wondered why she didn’t bother saving herself. 

My father passed away in 1989. This was right before I was born, so I don’t know much about him aside from what my mother would tell me. In 1993 my mom met a good fellow by the name of Rob who would later become my stepfather. Rob would introduce us to gaming culture, something that would ultimately change my life forever. Rob not only taught me that gaming was fun and acceptable in an era where it was most ridiculed, but he also taught me you could be healthy physically and mentally while enjoying what you love. 

Rob was a professional weight lifter believe it or not, and ran a martial arts dojo. He had this larger than life personality that really inspired me, and I regarded him as a role model. It was the year 1994 now, November 23rd. I was four years old at the time, a 90s kid who grew up with a dad who had an overwhelming passion for the RTS genre (Real-time strategy.) This was the date that Warcraft: Orcs & Humans would release, and Rob was very excited to say the least. I remember him picking me up from daycare that day and telling me about what the game involved. I remember being so intrigued, and his excitement became my excitement as well. I was with him the night we went to purchase our own copy of Warcraft: Orcs & Humans. It was late on a Wednesday as we rushed home with anticipation after waiting so long to get our hands on a copy of that bright red box displaying the iconic stare down of Alliance verses Horde. We ended up pulling into the driveway of our family business. I remember being confused at first, I wondered why we hadn’t gone home to show mom the game. Rob told me mom would be upset if we were playing this at such a late hour. Though I didn’t quite understand, I nodded, I just wanted to play the game.

I remember becoming very impatient while Rob installed the game on his work office MS-DOS ( Microsoft Disk Operating System. ) Eventually I ended up falling asleep. I recall him trying to wake me up excitably as the game had finished installing. I woke up immediately as he pulled up a chair so I could watch him play. At the time I remember being spooked by the music, it was eerie and war inspired, fitting of the game’s title. Rob went to start a new game, and I recall being puzzled at the thought of choosing a team or side to fight for. The game was asking us who to choose, the orcs, or the humans.

Rob asked me who we should pick, and though I was usually indecisive about things like this, I ultimately told him I wanted to fight for the humans. And there it began, I was introduced to the crazy war torn world of Azeroth. I remember us playing throughout the night, the only light in the building coming from his work office. ( My mom was very angry when she found out. ) I was a little too young at the time to understand the clunky controls and mechanics of the game, but I was happy enough watching Rob play. 

Warcraft: Orcs & Humans had become a gaming phenomenon in the RTS genre, eventually selling 300,000 copies. It set the stage for Blizzard Entertainment, solidifying them as a reliable company in the gaming world. 

One year went by and my love for Warcraft and Blizzard had become an obsession. The teachers at my school often disciplined me for rounding up the other kids at recess time to play Warcraft where we waged wars against the other with make believe swords and castle sieges. I don’t think the other kids knew a damn thing about the game or what Warcraft really was, but I’d like to remember they all had fun trying to kill each other regardless. The big toy was my castle, and I imagined myself to be a knight of the Alliance, a hero of humanity and protector of Azeroth.

It was now December 9th, 1995, the date at which Warcraft II: Tides of Darkness would release. I was at the end of my kindergarten career, about to start first grade. Warcraft II exceeded mine and Rob’s expectations, outstripping its predecessor by a landslide. Warcraft II went on to sell over 2 million copies, showing the world that Blizzard Entertainment was here to stay. I was now old enough to understand the games mechanics, and of course I chose to fight for the Alliance again. You were able to wage war on air and sea now, which was cool to me.

Rob and I would spend hours at a time defending Azeroth from the Horde. I believe it was Warcraft II that truly instilled my faction loyalty. I saw the Alliance as the saviors of Azeroth, a beacon of hope and light in a world that the orcs sought to destroy. April 30, 1996 came around and Blizzard released an expansion pack for the game. Warcraft II: Beyond the Dark Portal. This is where I fell in love with the character Turalyon. The idea of paladins captivated me. They were heroes of justice, protectors of the weak and innocent. In my childlike mind, they were my heroes, they would protect me against the horrifying orcs that wanted to destroy everything that was good in the world. I played Warcraft ll and other Blizzard games including Starcraft, and Diablo for many years.

Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos came out on July 3, 2002. This is where Blizzard’s storytelling really improved. Suddenly the orcs I was so terrified of had become heroic outcasts, and the humans were given a protagonist who turned villain.  The orcs had one of the most engaging campaigns I’d ever experienced in an RTS, and I found myself rooting for them this time around. Thrall was one of my favorite characters, and I wanted the Horde to succeed and find a new home on Azeroth. My perspective on what was good and evil had changed, and I spent countless hours playing Warcraft III and its expansion back The Frozen Throne, especially on the Battle.net feature. Warcraft III was an influential example of the RTS genre, selling over one million units in a month!

OH BOY, AND THEN THE UNTHINKABLE HAPPENED FOLKS. November 23, 2004! The release date of World of Warcraft. My life was over at this point. I anticipated the release of this game like my life depended on it. All I could think about were the possible adventures that awaited me. I remember the line being long, but I eventually got my copy of the game and rushed home to install what would become a much bigger part of my life in the future. Millions of people shared in my experience, making World of Warcraft a cultural phenomenon. Warcraft has been a wild ride, but I’ve been playing the games since the very beginning. If you’ve read this long, it won’t surprise you that my first character was a human paladin, and I still play one today. I was 14 years old then, I turned 28 this year. One day I hope to go to Blizzcon, believe it or not I haven’t attended one of their events yet!

I’ve met some of the greatest people I know on World of Warcraft, and I owe that to not only Blizzard, but my stepfather Rob. You both introduced me to a world that has become my second home, a place I truly believe influenced me in some ways. Rob, thank you for being an irresponsible parent by letting me stay up late to wage bloody conflicts in a World of Warcraft.

You’re the best. <3