Whisper'd from Khaos

I was reminded/relearned something valuable last night. . . nothing more than a whisper in the chaos and din of battle. To focus on the message would have meant death for our party, but it lingers still. . . in bits and pieces - an extension of the three classes, I guess.

I was tanking in Maraudon many times completely surrounded by mobs, stunned, silenced, but still by some mystery holding their wrathful attention, walking out of the rubble, surviving to the next battle from what should have killed me in the previous. If it wasn't for the excellent healing this experience would have been very scary and even more masochistic. (anyone can piss stuff off - living through it is a different story :P)

This is the first character I've had that could tank this zone, that was prepared for this purpose. I've been the healer here many time, even DPS'd my way through both alone in areas and in groups, but tanking is different.

DPS does it's best to be self-sufficient - their trick is to do as much damage as possible without pulling the attention of the target. Purpose: to end the conflict through superior firepower. The Weapon

Healers watch the big picture doing what they can to keep everyone alive, they see the patterns and in many cases will pick up on things that might be overlooked. Purpose: to heal through the chaos around them, restoring life through mana and in some messed up situations through sheer will alone. The Heart

Tanks are a focal point they want to be hit, every hit they take is one that someone else doesn't have to - but they are completely dependent on healer to keep them alive. Purpose: to hold focus and endure, to take the hits so others don't have to. The Shield



I'd dare to say that the healer/tank relationship is the most symbiotic for without one the other will fail. It's probably one of the reasons I enjoy pet classes so much - they are their own microcosm of this dynamic.

I guess I can boil it all down to one word in the end though - Trust.

Still thinking on this one. . .