If WoW Were A Musical

Fulguralis sighs in the darkness and waggles his fingers towards a trunk in the tent. Atop the trunk, a lantern springs aflame, casting mournful shadows around the small canvas enclosed space. The Warlock sits up and rubs his eyes ruefully. He is alone. Again. Standing up, Fulguralis stumbles wearily to the front of the tent.  He bends down and pushes the flaps out of the way.  Cool Icecrown air washes over his face.  The night is calm.  He steps out and surveys the sleeping ...

Articles tagged with: Warlock, Priest