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Advice for the EQ Shaman:
Selected Gleanings from Snoww Silverhammer, Rabid Bashy Bear of E. Marr (now retired)
Snoww's guide to Shamanhood - September 2004:
1. You are many things, but foremost you are the link between the spirits and the real. You make all around you more powerful by linking them with the spirits. Do not fall into the trap of the bitter spirits and focus on what you cannot do, because there is little that a motivated Shaman with many friends around cannot do.
2. The people who cary big sharp things are your brothers - guard them well. Watch over them and make sure that they are protected by all the spirits you can call. No matter how small the spirit is or how weak it's effect. Others may be able to force the spirits out with more powerful majik but sometimes brute force is not around, and the small spirits fill the gap like water into a hole.
3. You are not some small puny thing that stands in the back! We are kin to the bear and wolf, and when the pack hunts we walk beside them with hammer in hand and blood on our lips! Curses flow from us to weaken and slow our foes, and the call of the wolves will not be stood against for long. Allow the spirits to take from your body so that your spirit will become stronger and use that power often. It is your right to change the material to the spirit within yourself, just as you are changing your spirit to mend the blood and bone that keeps you and your friends alive.
4. Be prepared to accept the anger of your foes at all times, and do not shirk from the beatings you will recieve. Stand tall and bellow back your anger at thier temerity to strike a Holy Guide such as yourself, and fight with the fury of the rabid bear when you have the will to summon it. You will never be a warrior with blades at your beck and call, but the spirits will sustain you and the melee will follow you like puppies follow the mother wolf.
5. All of your skills can come in time of need. When you look upon the cantrips and charms of the spirits, remember that to ride the eyes of a monster is a usefull skill to have. It gives you information that will help you be the wise and mystical person that you should be. Call a wolf from the material world for a bit and learn the antics of an animal charmed. It will let you see into the eyes of the enchanter as they control the great beasts of the world. A rain of poison can be an effective punishment for those that offend you, but only if you have the wisdom to place the rain where it does the most damage to the foe. A blast of the artic air of my homeland will numb any it strikes, but the cost of calling it from so far away is paid in time. To cripple a powerful foe seems like a leaf in the wind at times; but when backed with the tornado of many warriors, even a twig can be driven into a mighty oak.
Shamanhood is a subtle calling, never to be understood by the many. They see our great works from time to time, but most prefer the hand of the gods coming down to heal them, or the breath of nature itself blowing across thier wounds; they will never notice the small spirit of renewal easing thier aches, or see the shades of warriors past giving thier health to the wounded in a slow measured pulse. The slow distruction of a foe from the insides, from poison and disease, will never be as flashy as a thunderclap from a great wizard, but the end result is the same: a monster dead. To be a Shaman is to walk the anals of time's slow passing, and while actions may come swifty in the heat of battle, remember:
The true measure of a Shaman's worth is in the quiet times, when the brothers wolf and bear remember us and say with great reverance...
Where he walked... the ground stood still... waiting for him to pass over it...
Where he walked the armour stopped its jingle, and the men of battle all cheered...
For the spirits walk with the Shaman, and the Shaman walks with us all.
Be a shaman. Walk tall with brother wolf and sister bear beside you, and the world will tremble where you go. Do not sit in the back of the lines waiting with the learned for the monster to die; instead crest the wave with the bloodlust upon you, and call the spirits to make you strong and to weaken the foe from within!
Snoww's response to what a Shaman should be - August, 2004:
I want what I once was back.
The rock upon which the tide broke.
I want to be standing next to my brothers in arms with sister wolf beside me.
I want people who see me walk up, cheer because now they know that thier abilities will be enhanced and when my curses flow upon the enemies they will be punished for standing against us.
I want the wounds of my brethern to stitch themselves and close upon my commands. And the spirits of my fallen ancestors to rise and walk once again beside us. Sharing thier Strength and courage to make the battles manageable.
I want to be swinging a large hammer bellowing at the top of my lungs as the onrushing wave of enemies crashes into the battle lines, shouting for the meele to rejoice for once again we are at the forefront and the bloodletting can begin.
I want what once was true. A shaman would turn the tide of impossible to possible. And when we walked the ground trembled beneath us. The veterans of battles long lost or won would be thankful that the spirits were with us that day.
Snoww's advice on numbers and roleplaying - August, 2003:
There are a few folks that still belive the game is to be played. Not to be parsed and crunched down to the optimum path.
Of course, I read and listen to the powergamers. And Honestly am a powergamer myself. But I powergame a roleplaying game. Not a tactical simulator.
If you meet me in game, you remember me. Not because I am the best. Or because I have the most hitpoints. Or any number of best or uber things. You remember me because I am consistantly the best I can be. Be that making friends. Pissing people off. Leading friends on raids. Getting killed in oh so painful ways. Grinding out xp in tactics. Roleplaying the 60 Int shaman who has a serious case of bloodlust and a deep seated belief that to stand back there is somehow beneath her.
Play the game to have fun is damn good advice. And the roleplayer and the powergamer can coexist. If they respect each other. The problem is many many more powergamers respect only those ahead of them in the game and they have no way of quantifying who is best when someone else is level 40 and speaks in thees and thous. so they mock them.
Hey, the Ogre Warrior or the Iksar Shaman might be the so called Best. (Or whatever) But when the total difference between an Ogre Warrior and a Gnome Warrior at the end game comes down to unstunability from the front and XP penaltiss versus never needing a shrink and getting tinkering and such... Who really gives a rat's ass? All classes and races have advantages and disadvantages. And if you are lucky enough to find a class and race that suits you, be it powergamed or roleplayed or whatever, then you have won EQ.
And Yes I have won EQ. I won it The day I retired my level 60 thief and in no uncertain terms decided that the path of Justice and the cold frost encrusted hammer was the path I would walk. And I walk that path proudly with friends.
Snoww's Wise words from the old to the young of the tribe - August, 2003:
Here is me words. I think they are wise but not only the young can be deluded in what they speak.
A shaman is a spirit caller. A ghost walker. A bridge between the real and the spirit world. We have brother wolf and sister bear to aid us on our Journey.
I myself follow Justice. So I will speak of what I know. The followers of fear or war or of the spirits that bind all things may speak of thier own path.
I come from a family of combatants. Adventurers we all are. I have a hammer in my name and it is the Spear of Fate that I weild. I stand in the thick of battles, while the warriors who are my brothers charge forward. Any that stand before those warriors I lay low with curses and insects to weaken them.
The spirits I have called walk with the warriors and Knights and thier support holds us fast, they make them stronger and sometimes faster, they heal thier wounds slowly or sometimes in a rush of power. Other spirits I can call. Filled with poison or disease, these I lay upon my enemies to kill them from within. I can also use a spear of poison to thrust into the side of a foe, or a blast of cold from the feilds of ice that I call home, while not as powerful as the great magics of a wizard, they can change the tide of a battle one slow cast at a time.
In the younger years I strived to be at the front of the battle. Laying about me with the hammer of my namesake healing when I could and yet always calling upon the insects to harry my foes. Now with my advancing age and the power of the enemies I do not stand in the face of my foes as much. Except of course when I am angry. Then damn the wounds that they may cause. Damn the whimpering of the clerics and thier cries of "What are you doing!" Damn the warriors with thier puny swords and the knights of legend striking with there greatswords and axes. When the rage of the bear is on me I will attack and while I may not have the force of trained warrior, all of the abilities that the spirits grant me come to the edge of a fearsome spears point.
People will tell you many things in the journeys ahead. They will tell you what you are not. You will hear you are not a warrior, you are not a puller, you are not a scout. You will hear time and time again you are not a cleric, nor a druid, and certainly not an enchanter. What they do not understand is you are a Shaman, the sum of all things. No one thing you do will shake the heavens, but where you walk is inexorably changed and when you exert your will wonderous things can happen.
They will shout at you as you charge forward to engadge with the warriors, "stand back and meditate and let them do as they must"... I have never paid them any mind for I do what Justice requires of me. I stand in the front armed in spirit and clothed in the torpor of sister bear, I stand with my brothers the warriors and break the back of the beast.
Because I am a shaman, and all the spirits of the dead heros walk with me.
Snoww's words on being an Old Timer - July, 2003:
In bear form I am old and majestic, An elder in title and in truth.
I walked the permafrost when times were new. Before the age of the gods and before the fires of heaven scoured the land.
I battled bear cub and goblin, with nothing more than an old stick and the knowledge that my calling as a shaman would be strong.
I walked in the night when it was truly dark. Before the vengeful bards took shape and wandered the icy plains. Before crafters learned to make the tundra rings of ice into armour. Before the lands were mapped and weighed and measured.
I have killed Hill giants with only my mutt and my spirits around me when the deed was considered impossible but for those of the dark arts. I walked Into lower Guk when the place was fabled and new.
When Kunark was discovered, I carried the long arm of northern Justice to the sarnak. And to the undead in the ruins of Kaesora. I watched as frost froze the ichor of the emporer of long dead seblis in his spectral form.
I have wandered and led in the icy wastes of velious. Friend to dragon and slayer of giant. Much like the long times past in the mountains of rathe. I was charmed and cursed in the Sirens grotto in the first day of walking that blasted land. I have raised my spear in salute of The Darkpaw and slain Yedelma in honarable combat. After many had done so before me. And many would come after me.
I walked the Moon of Luclin, once again delivering the Justice of the Tribunal. And trying to rid the land of shadow. I have braved the scourge of the temple of Ssra, and walked in the airless depths of the grey itself.
I have met my lords and protecters in the halls of Justice. I have stood before them and been Judged. And not found wanting. I wander now in the Halls of Honor, and the plane of tactics, proving myself with the stregnth of my arm and spirits and with the friends of all my past arrayed behind me.
I am the tip of a spear aimed at the neck of the boar. The speed of the wolf inside me, the pack baying at my heels. I am a caller of spirits and a weilder of poison and disease. I cripple and call upon the insects to weaken my enemies. I am a healer of my people and of all the races that stand with me. I am the growl of the Kodiaks that still live on the northern plains of my home.
It has been a long Journey. One of fun and fright. Filled with laughter and pain, as old friends fall by the road and new friends pick up the pace.
But one thing will endure. The memories of the Silverhammer. Standing in the firelight, looking out over the frost. The memories of the good and evil that I have come across in my jorney are still strong. And thankfully they are not at an end. My spear is still in my hand. And the Hammer of spirits is still only a reach away.
Justice will rule in the far north for some time to come.
Halas Born - August, 2002
I serve Justice.
I am heyokah, a spirit friend. I call down the plauges and poisens of the natural and unnatural to weaken and kill those that would do me harm. I can call up the winds and frost of my homelands to strike with a great and furious anger to those that oppress me and my brethern.
In Times of crisis I can heal the wounds of many. Quickly, with a blast of some green substance that the wigglefingers call clorophyll, or more slowly by calling on the spirits to take the wounded into a slowly healing trance.
I weild the Spear of Fate, or a hammer crafted by my brothers to smite the foes of justice where I walk. I use a sheild crafted from the bones of some foul beast. I have a shirt of Fungus covering my chest, it speeds healing in some way that I do not understand.
I have the skin of a dragon covering my legs. Protecting me better than it protected him. The skin of some long dead Grey beast on my arms. Hardened like steel yet black in color.
I have silvery boots protecting my feet from the ravages of the world. Taken from some spider in the bowls of an icy maze. I have a veil made from the shroud of some undead beast. To allow me to commune with the spirit wolves that I call brother.
On one Wrist a bracer made of Jaundeced bone. Cold to the touch even in the brightest flame. It strikes frost and fear into the hearts of many. The other rist is a blood red chain, taken from the accursed temple of the god of fear. I walked the place with my friends and carried the tribunal into the temple of fear itself.
I have a medallion crafted of shadow itself. Bound by some majik that I do not posess. But it protects me the same.
I have walked with dragons and gods, and slain them both. I have talked with giants and rulers long since dead. I have taken justice to all the corners of the world, showing that might does not always make right, and that the long arm of the tribunal carries a very large hammer.
I am a shaman. Spirit walker, ghost talker. The rock upon which armies break.
Halas is my home, and one day when I retire from my adventuring ways I will carve a dwelling upon the permafrost. And in the nights when the cold winds blow, when the howls of my brother wolves, the growls of the sister bears, split the night sky. People will feel safe.
Because the silver hammer of Snoww will protect them. And Justice rules in the far north.
/ooc Why they hell would a few point of regen match that. The game is about fun not a number crunching mathmatical problem. Walk hand in hand with the spirits of wolves and you will understand. View the wolf as a level 39 Mobile and you never will.
Snoww falls into a state of Tanking - June, 2002
One of the many reasons why I do so love being a shaman.
Last night. Dropped 2 more guardian wyrms. (Numbers 81 and 82) Still no shaman spells. Bastards. After that the tank had to leave. 2 hours till it is time to go to bed, Decent crew, but no tanks on.
So I speak up. Lets go to Chardok. We can go into the pit, and Ill tank.
Now we have a new fella in the guild that doesnt know me very well. A thief. Level 52. He laughs and says that I can't keep the mobs off him and that would be a bad idea.
(Tumbleweeds float by, and stars are birthed and die in the silence that followed that statement..)
I point out to him that I have a 1007 AC and regen 42 hitpoints a tick. That I also have 3498 hp when Buffed. (I know it is sad compared to many here, but heck I do okay)
He replies with a so, you can't do enough damage, and if you do you will have no mana anyways.
(More stars die, and people start backing away from him)
I simply laughed and said lets go. Everyone else trusts me, and you will see something that you have obviously never seen.
At this time It was me (Level 60 Bashy shaman) a level 60 Dorf cleric, my hot boxed Enchanter (Level 55) and the thief. While we were running there a buddy of mine hops on and joins us. A level 58 thief with ragebringer.
He sends me a tell in a sec saying the lower thief said we were gonna die. A shaman can't tank for two rogues. Especially that deep into chardok.
(Grins)
He ask who is pulling. I say I am. He says you will not have any time to med. I laugh and say I don't med. (Wince) (Wince) (Wince)
Then I start pulling. Single pulls at first to see how he handles it. Root taunting so they Always have a back.
Then Once we settle into a pattern I switch it up a bit. I break out the two handed Barb Spiritist hammer and start in on the bracer.
Root is breaking alot more due to the DD, but the hammer is proccing nicely due to the 255 dex I have when Voiced. (thanks 14 dex at creation) But Most of the time a quick evade brings it back on me, or I toss a envenomed breath to taunt it on me (Nice low mana) Or just root again.
By the end of the night I made a believer out of him. (Not that it is an amazing thing, just was a fun little story). We killed a bunch of Bridge keepers, Watch captains, and loads of normal mobs. Non stop for the 2.5 hours Till we fought out and left. (I was having fun so stayed up late)
Also at one point I tossed a Torrent of poison and got two crits in a row with only Spell casting fury 1. I like. Alot. And freaked out the Thief. Was 2 720 DD blasts. Mmmm then a 540.
Plus I got 2.5 yellows of alt xp. Not bad.
Shaman can tank.
Snoww Silverhammer
Rabid Bashy Bear
E. MarrReprinted with permission. ;-)