Journal of a Travelling Warrior

I have had many lives. In my years of travelling I have seen many things; the great sand dunes of Tatooine, the wonders of Outland, the blackness of Moria, and more. I have witnessed alliances form and shatter and the dead rise to wage war […]
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I have had many lives. In my years of travelling I have seen many things; the great sand dunes of Tatooine, the wonders of Outland, the blackness of Moria, and more. I have witnessed alliances form and shatter and the dead rise to wage war with the living, yet throughout all of this I keep asking myself the same question over and over again – “why the hell don’t you go and kill those ten boars yourself?!”

Nevertheless, I am a warrior and I will endure. I will kill those ten boars for you, but I tire of this repetitive lifestyle. Every realm I visit makes the same promises, only to show their true form when I have spent my gold on the move. Sure, all I have to do is kill some random bandits skulking in the forests, but gold is still hard to come by and I definitely don’t want to keep spending the same amount to stay in the world. I have changed since the early years and am no longer content to blindly pay for the same experiences. I yearn for something different, something fresh, and I think I have finally found it.

Azeroth was game changing, but Tyria takes it to an all new level.


I am amazed by the sight that greets me. Snow-capped mountains ring the lush green of Borealis Forest as I make my first foray into this new realm. Choosing the guise of a Norn, I advance through the early challenges by coming to the aid of some locals. I am not called upon to kill ten boars here, but instead to disperse a herd or marauding centaurs, protect a simple caravan and hunting down the invading Sons of Svanir. It is refreshing, and before too long I have earned my first reward.


Why every new guise insists on giving me the tools of a child I do not know, but I waste no time in discarding the pitiful worn sword I was given and grasp the hilt of the newly forged greatsword. How dare they not give this to me at the start, do they know not who I am?!

Before too long I am summoned into Hoelbrak, the capital hub for this new race I have adopted. It is vast, and cold. Hidden deep within a snowy peak, the main lodgings are nestled between white hills and icy paths. Its inhabitants welcome me kindly, and in short time I am already hailed as the Slayer.


The title means nothing to me. I have killed many creatures over the years, skinning most of the animals for their precious hides. I am more of a slayer then they shall ever know, but I sense that they call all who approach by the same name. A fresh engineer follows me through the main gates and he too is heralded as the Slayer. It must be a common title here, but I figure it is the norm for a battle-hardened race of warriors such as these.

Having performed the customary introductions, I leave Hoelbrak behind and head deeper into Borealis Forest. It is a serene setting, but as I head down to the river I can’t help but take note that more adventure awaits me in beyond this green haven. I can feel the cold breathing down my neck and the whisper of my name on the mountain breeze. It calls to me and my blood boils in anticipation at putting my new title to good use. I’ll show them what it really means to be a Slayer, and I’ll use the pointy end of steel, not a stick.


Alas, that will have to wait. I am experienced enough to know when I am not yet ready for the challenge. This new body has to grow before I can explore more of my new home. Tyria, like Azeroth and those before it, is fraught with dangers that await me. They’ll be there, waiting for me, biding their time for when I run my steel through their bodies. Until then, I need to get stronger, and at least change out of these rags that pass for armour.

There things never change. I can pick up the odd piece from the carcasses of those I have slain, but it is always refreshing to be able to make my own. Regardless of which world I am in, there is always a profession to make your own armour. It is no different here, but the experience of crafting my own pieces is made more enjoyable here with the discovery chances. It adds a little surprise if I combine the right components without making it too challenging. I still need to the right components, and for a warrior like me that means the best metals. It is copper for now; a good set of bronze armour will do nicely for these weak creatures.


With pickaxe equipped, I go in search of helpless innocents and the elusive metal ores. All the while, I keep an eye on those mountain peaks. It won’t be long before I head into the cold, and I will be ready.

I am Kallam. I am a warrior. My adventure is just beginning.


Journal of a Travelling Warrior is an alternative look into the warrior classes of various MMOs, written from the viewpoint of the character himself. These articles are not intended to be reviews of the games featured and account for only the author’s experiences within the respective games.


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