The Way of the Monk

Chapter 2: The Compassionate

The ship ride to the Eastern Kingdoms was a long one. The Alliance boatmen helped us Pandaren onto the ships with blue sails soon after we gave the notice that we were joining them.

A lot has already changed. As Aysa of the Tushui joined the Alliance, all of the Pandaren who followed her became known as Tushui Pandaren, even if they used to be Houjin. The same is true for Ji's followers.

Another thing that is odd is that the Alliance soldiers keep asking everyone what kind of soldier they want to be, out of three choices: healer, fighter, and guardian. They also keep "classing" all of us. Some of the Pandaren who didn't make it as Monks on the Wandering Isle are becoming classed as Shamans, Rogues, and Warriors.

Soon, a tall, purple-ish skinned Night Elf in large, plated armour approaches me. "Excuse me, miss," he begins, "what is your name?"

I take a deep breath and hope I don't end up re-classed. I've trained too hard to become a Monk for that to be taken away from me. "Huiliang," I reply, "Monk from Shang-Xi Academy."

"You completed your Monk training?" the Night Elf asks, raising a long, bushy eyebrow, "you seem younger than the other Monks here."

"I'm 24, and considered an adult in less than a year, sir. At least to other Pandaren. I don't know if it's different for you."

The Elf chuckles a little. "Well, we Night Elves age much differently. When I was your age, I still looked like a Human teenager. I'm in my thirties already."

"You wear your age well, then," I giggle, "am I allowed to know your name?"

"Xanirios," he holds out his hand for me to shake, "I'm a Protection Warrior stationed in Northrend with my partner Maral. They called me down to help with the Horde... problem. I guess word got out about how much I hate Orcs."

"Northrend?"

"I'm sure you'll be there someday. Everyone ends up there sometime on their way to the top raiding groups. It sure is cold though, and there are Scourge still there from the Lich King's attack." After seeing my confused face, Xanirios stops and continues what he came over for. "Would you like to be a healing Monk, fighting Monk, or guardian Monk? You can pick any now and change later, but you'll have to learn from scratch and on your own later if you change. I'll let you know now, most of the Monks we have in the Alliance already are fighters, so it'll be harder for you to fit into a raiding group later."

"You keep mentioning raiding. What is that?" I ask suddenly. Raiding sounds dangerous. Is that what the Horde was doing on the Wandering Isle?

Xanirios sighs and says, "You know, I don't quite know either. I just hear whisperers of the next raids of the Firelands to gather materials and weapons. Apparently, you have to be really strong and exceptional at your class and useful to the group in order to even participate," he pauses and gives me a suspicious look. "You're stalling, aren't you? You don't know what to choose."

I frown at him. "It's not that I don't know, it's that I don't want to have to fight. I became a Monk to perform a sacred art, not to fight in some obscure war that I've never heard of."

"Then be a healer."

"Why?"

"Healers don't necessarily fight. They just keep their allies alive. And we could use some more of them," Xanirios pauses, "does that sound good, Huiliang?"

"I guess I have no choice if I don't want to have to fight, right?"

"Yeah, you really don't," Xanirios smiles slightly. "You know, I was in a similar situation as you are when I first joined the Alliance forces. I wanted to become a 'kill-all-Orcs-on-sight' Warrior, but they wouldn't allow it. They told me I had to be something more controlled, and something that they had a teacher for. So they made me be a Protection Warrior, a guardian, so I can still be in every enemy's face while I beat them down." He pops his knuckles and grins. "Shall I go and tell the Monk trainers that you're going to be a Mistweaver, then?"