oh you poor thing. tsk, tsk, tsk.. . how really pitiful of you. rofl!
.. .you are rooted to the ground with frost nova. with you helplessly going nowhere, the mage then proceeds to make a practice dummy out of you. you instantly grab your shield for protection; a desperate act in a desperate situation; a move that forces you in a defensive stance. yes, hide behind that puny excuse of resistance and prepare to reflect the mage’s next spell on you. but oh, unless you’ve forgotten, mages are very intelligent creatures. the clever mage fakes a cast, you curl up immediately behind that piece of scrap metal for that next damaging blow, and you’ve successfully taken the bait. one wasted move. now bolts after bolts of ice are speeding your way. uuuggh! fodder indeed. but you survive. of course! you are a warrior after all, stamina is only second to your strength.
after you’ve broken free from the ice that held you frozen to the earth, you immediately rush the mage while eating all the ice and fire she could throw at you. arrggghh! you are one tough warrior.. . you don’t easily go down. you reach the mage and bam! the hilt of your weapon immediately connects to her head. she is knocked senseless for just a wee amount of time. a weird, numbing sensation immediately courses all over your body. your eyes widen in surprise as your bones are chilled by the mage’s frost armor. your actions are slowed. you could barely move. one not-so-mortal strike with your really huge sword is all you could muster, before the mage came to her senses and blinks away, yet again! NOoo! you shout in anger.
your shout fields you with rage. your blood boils. strength flows wildly through your veins. with both of your hands firmly clutched on your sword’s handle, your knuckles turn death white not from the ice, but from gripping it too tight. everything around you turns red. everything disappears but that one target centered in your sight. the fabled warrior berserker stance. all your power, all your anger, all your hate, all your senses you pour on that one thing in between your hands right now. and it gleams wickedly. a terrifying sight to behold.. .
annoyingly, the ever smart mage just chuckles at you. because she knows, and you very well know, that she still has several tricks up her sleeve in store for you. you dash up to her once more, and let loose a mighty roar that could even have wild beasts cower in fear. the mage, in her over-confidence, was unprepared for that. the echoes of that howl pierces through her mind. she runs around defenselessly, while you try to rend her apart in her moment of weakness, only to draw her back to consciousness. the tip of your blade bounces uselessly on a block of solid ice that has now magically encased the spellweaver. you stare at her disgustingly inside her protective cocoon, and she stares back at you with a grin.
Warrior, you knew this was hopeless! a feeling of dejection washes your spirit.. . your rage recedes. the death grip on your blade starts to loosen. you back up slowly from the mage. when you could have executed her right there, she cheats death by surrounding herself cowardly with an impenetrable shield. it was not in desperation. that unmistakable grin on her pretty face told you that. you knew for certain that this was coming, Warrior.. .
but you fought bravely as every warrior would. and you lost not your honor, but only your life (chuckles). for no armor wrought in any metal can withstand the force of magic. no known plate could deflect the tip of a speeding arrow. yet you fought well against all diversities my Warrior. your form of combat is too open. it is too basic. you lack the guile of a rogue, and the versatility of a druid. and even if you fight valiantly, everytime.. . you will lose. that is what makes you a True Warrior.