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Conditions around the death knight remain settled and unusually cold. Winds light, runeblades at full capacity, no absences recorded in the period. Newly promoted to the officer channel, where he has been handed the loot council and some very firm views about it. Outlook for the coming week: continued frost, with a persistent low pressure over any balance druid within forty yards. Boomkin in the area should expect no shelter and no loot.

2021 to present — Restoration Shaman, Killing Time. Kept a raid alive across five tiers and a hundred and forty-five nights, chiefly by placing a totem somewhere nobody was standing and then moving it. This season — three thousand two hundred and fifty-five Mythic+ rating, a figure he would like formally entered into the record following certain remarks. Skills: sarcasm, load-bearing. Motivation: spite, renewable. References: reads the log before the wipe explanation, which management finds unnerving.

Here, in the half-light of the crypt, the night elf works alone. Watch her now. She has spotted the warrior standing in the acid again — she does not rebuke him, she simply extends a slow green hand and undoes it, as she has for fifty-four nights. Note the call, the only one she makes all evening, going out into a completely silent channel: innervate. Nobody has answered it in four tiers. She has been seen in balance form, where she is roughly as durable as a candle.

There was a pull where the healers went down one by one and Ázteco carried it alone for ninety seconds, shields going out faster than anyone could break them, and the whole raid was shouting her name in Discord. She said nothing at all. Then she typed 'was that ok' and logged onto the alt. The officers keep one word in the notes beside her name, and have never needed a second one. It is 'solid'.

It is with regret that we mark the passing of Weeklynoleav, taken from us on Nek'zali while standing exactly where he had been told not to. He leaves behind an imp, a summoning stone he put up before anyone asked, and a plate of cookies laid out for the fifth time tonight, which is the fifth time nobody has taken one. He was, at the time of death, on full attendance. He got back up eleven seconds later and did it again.

They tell of a night at four percent, every healer's mana the colour of a bad idea, when the dracthyr spread his wings and eight people who should have died did not. They tell of other nights. Of a balance druid standing quite safely on a platform, gently lifted, and set down somewhere with no platform under it whatsoever. Both legends are true. The guild has agreed to stop asking which of them was on purpose.

Alysaar of Killing Time, eighty-eight nights, five tiers, top of the meter more or less permanently, dead again — this time to something she has personally explained to other people twice. The funeral was brief, as she was needed for the next pull and the damage does not do itself. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you stop standing in her poison, and that you stop asking her how she does it.

Taken from us mid-fight, the dwarf leaves behind eight tiers, a hundred and sixty-seven nights and a pet who has still not been told. Colleagues recall a man who never missed an invite, never once fed the beast, and never let an England result pass without a full and considered response in the channel. A committed baiter, dedicated to the craft, and by common consent the master of it. He was found later at the repair vendor, alive, still going.

A front of shadow moving in fast from the west. Expect an eighty on Nek'zali, exceptional for the season, followed without warning by a collapse to single figures on the Explorers. He came here to blast. He is now on the council and takes the raid whenever nobody else will, which he has forgiven nobody for. Additional warning in force: he does not care for the robot that wrote this. Void elves in the area should carry a coat.

Six tiers ago Katukas pulled a boss early by accident and the raid killed it. She has been chasing that moment ever since across a hundred and thirty-eight nights, from a range of roughly two yards, because that is where she prefers to stand. The pet waits out in front, where the hunter should be. The hunter is in the melee, where the pet should be. Nobody has raised it in some time.

Take one warrior of enormous confidence, noting that he was something else entirely last tier and will be something else again next one. Marinate in a Mythic+ score of three and a half thousand, which he will mention. Consult the class discords, discard, reroll to whatever they are excited about this fortnight. Place into the front of the raid without checking the temperature. Serve with 'that's a tuning problem'. Does not keep, by design.

The mage is dead. The mage was dead earlier as well. Seventy-four nights, four tiers, not one missed invite this expansion, and still logged every week as the guild's idea of a new mage, which he has stopped correcting. He is, by common agreement, an outstanding frost mage. He is currently arcane, because arcane is the meta and somebody has to be. He will be remembered briefly, before the next pull.

One paladin, unblemished, known to the kitchen as Frosty. Coat thoroughly in plate. Interpose between the raid and a stone golem roughly four times her height. Do not season. Hold at a steady seventy for nine consecutive nights without once asking for credit. Remove from the fire only when everyone else is out. Yields: the whole raid's evening, and the best tank west of anywhere this guild has ever been.

Blood pressure high, visibility poor, everything within ten yards being dragged towards a single point. Signal arriving from the far end of the planet roughly half a second after it left, which means he is tanking a fight the rest of us have already finished watching. Conditions expected to remain hostile for the duration. The orc reports that he is 'fine' and 'has it', which historically has been true, and which nobody has ever managed to verify in time.

Arcane Mage, The Venomous Abyss. Also known as Alfie. Also, on the nights the actual raid leader is settling children, the one holding the raid together. Responsible for damage, for the assignment nobody else wanted, and for the running commentary — 'Alfie. Alfie, you' — which he delivers about himself, in the third person, in full, every time he stands in something orange. Nine nights, nine invites accepted. References available from anyone on Discord, which is everyone.

And here, at the very back of the crypt, a holy paladin nobody has met. She arrived this tier, said almost nothing, and started healing. Note the posture: entirely still, eyes on eight health bars at once. She has not moved in four minutes and will not until the last of them is safe. The officers are still writing up her trial. On this evidence it will not be a long document.

Interviewer: You held both golems for that entire pull, in your second week here. How? — Lymana: I don't really remember it. There was a lot of green. — Interviewer: The raid says you saved the night. — Lymana: The raid should stop standing behind the one that bleeds red. I've asked twice. I'm on trial, so I asked nicely both times.

They say nobody actually recruited her. They say the trial invite went out and she was somehow already inside, imp out, standing on the mark, waiting. Two weeks in and nobody can find a record of her signing up late, or early, or at all. The officers have her down as new. Nobody has the heart to tell her, and nobody is entirely certain she does not already know.

Combine one monk with a polearm considerably taller than he is. Add chi. Whisk violently through the middle of the pack until nothing is standing. Note: for Dimensius, do not add. Leave on the bench for the whole fight, where he will find something genuinely kind to say to every single person who did get the invite, because that is simply what he is like. Rest eleven nights. Serve again, hot.

FOR HIRE: one troll druid. Will provide moonfire, cooldowns used correctly the first time, and the soak nobody else remembered. Fifty-two nights of references across four tiers. Highest recorded parse in the guild by some distance, though she will not tell you that and will change the subject if you do. Rates negotiable. Availability: whenever you have wiped enough to ask.

Observe the raid leader in his natural habitat: the middle of a marked circle he drew himself. Eight tiers, a hundred and sixty-four nights. Note the pause mid-sentence — a child has appeared somewhere off-camera and must be walked back to bed. Note also the connection, the worst in Europe, dropping a word in three. When the herd talks over him he says 'right, that's it, you're muted', and the crypt goes quiet. Then he dies to the mechanic he was explaining.

The story goes that they wandered in five tiers ago with a bow and nobody has formally invited them since; they simply appear, at range, on time, marksmanship. Officers long ago stopped asking which team they are on. What the guild has noticed is the channel: five tiers, not one unkind word about anybody, and an unbroken record of telling Phonchick she is doing a lovely job, whether or not anyone asked.

INCIDENT: Wednesday, second pull, subject's first month with us. 1. Subject was assigned to the left side. 2. Subject went right. 3. Boss died anyway. 4. Subject offered no explanation and has not been asked for one. FINDING: no action required. RECOMMENDATION: continue assigning him to the left side, as it appears to work. Note for the file: nobody can say who invited him.

There is a pull on Nek'zali the guild has not stopped bringing up since, and it belongs to this monk. Put him on the windwalker and he is exactly what you want: a reliable man in a green spinning circle, fists genuinely furious, doing the assignment while doing the damage. Put him on the demon hunter and everyone is reminded, at length, why he is a monk. He has tried it twice. Nobody wants a third.

She came for two nights only, at the end of a tier, when the roster was thin and the officers were making phone calls. She brought a sword taller than she was, put the boss down, and left. The guild speaks of her in the past tense out of respect, though she is right there, and though everybody knows perfectly well she is also Popqa. The bit is maintained regardless.

Here lies the blood death knight, main tank of last season, who vanished into a game with worse graphics and better fishing and was presumed gone for good. He is survived by Popmama, Popka and Poppka, who are all also him, and who have been holding his spot. Reports now place him back at the front of the raid, tanking entirely on instinct, having never in his life watched a recording of anything he has done.