I am the Mage.
When you see me I will not be clad in the heavy steel of the warrior or the paladin, nor the chain mail of the hunter or shaman, nay I will not even take the protection offered by the hardened leather armor of the rogue and druid, no, I will wear only cloth for my power comes from within my body not that which I might put on it.
My speech is eloquent and learned, my tongue quick and sharp. My mind is my strongest weapon, and so I must hone it and keep it as sharp as any warrior has ever kept his blade. I must train my mind to think as a rogue trains his body to move silently, or a hunter trains his arms to pull taut his bowstring.
My calling is known by many names to many people. Wizard. Sorcerer. Conjurer. Caster. Clothie. Magi.
I am the Mage.
I have not the strength of muscle of the warrior or the lightning reflexes of the rogue. I cannot stand toe to toe with a foe in melee combat and bring about its death from the force of my blows. I cannot strike with speed and precision and fade back into the darkness. I cannot send a storm of arrows at my foes from afar. I cannot accept the blows of many foes upon me and walk from the field. I must kill quickly or perish. I cannot call forth the powers of hell to serve and defend me. I cannot heal my wounds when injured, or have the gods smile upon me in battle. The fight is mine and mine alone to win or lose.
I command the elements, I do not serve nature as a druid does, I command nature and nature obeys. I incinerate my foes with fires, rend their bodies with bolt of piercing ice, and hurl pure arcane energies at them. I am feared and respected for the power I wield, and the destruction that follows in my wake. Yet I am not evil like the warlock. I seek to use my awesome powers for good. To help and defend my countrymen, to do great deeds, and turn back the tide of death and carnage wherever it may be found.
I come in many shapes and sizes, yet my numbers are few. Few hear the call within themselves. Few can wield the might we have. Not all can bring a meteor down on their enemies, or turn the air into a sudden blizzard, full of frozen daggers of ice. Though our numbers are not great we may be found all over Azeroth, from the depths of Blackrock mountain to the plains of the plaguelands, wherever the call goes out for heroes, we answer.
Those who don’t understand our powers fear us. We are called black magicians by the priests, and weaklings by the warriors. We are mocked for not practicing the martial pursuits of our peers. Peasants close their doors as we pass, that we might not turn them into anything “unnatural”. Until some great need emerges. Then the call will go out, to the magic towers across the land, summoning us once again to slay whatever evil has awoken now.
In a group I am to be killed first for it is known that the longer I live the more that will die. I may lay waste to an entire field of foes if given the chance or I may fall prey to a single well placed strike from the dagger of the rogue.
I kill with my mind and my intellect. My business is not an easily understood one. It is not something everyone may comprehend, some will not be able to grasp our mysteries, these will become the one who denounce us, who says magic had no place in our world. Let them talk. I know magic’s place, and I know mine. My place is to kill the evil, dark things of this world. Just as the warrior, and the paladin hold the foes’ attention, and the priests and druids mend the wounds of the fallen, it is my job to kill the enemy, to deal the damage that ends the threat. In the end it is I who kills the threat, stops the death, it is my powers that kills dragons, men, even gods.
So will sit in my tower and constantly strive to learn new spells, that next time I am called to battle I might command forces so great and terrible as to cause my foes to flee the battle at the very sight of me. I am powerful. I am awesome and terrible in battle.
I am the Mage.
- credit Robilliard (US WoW forums)
