Then go play another class and stop complaining on a forum that developers don't read.
Valafor, home after a year of fighting the Undead Scourge, takes a seat before his computer. He tries to adjust his position a few times, exhaling a loud sigh. "Why does Blizzard curse humans to have such a straightened sitting position?
" He thinks to himself, blue-black brows furrowed, the crinkle of his brow only serving to slowly create wrinkles over time. "It's no matter." He states aloud, shaking his head as his cold, dead fingers rest on his mouse, edging it toward his browser of choice. Automatically, he is set before the Death Knight forums. It pleases him, he finds even in his advanced age, that he was able to set it as his "Home Page." The man gives a chuckle; "No place like ho--" The words die in his throat as he stares wide-eyed at the screen. "U-Unholy nerfed, time to r-reroll?" With haste, he clicks and he waits-- waits for the page to load.
With an anguished cry, he slams a fist into the oddly placed crate beside him. It's less than jello to the might of his arm. The veins in his bicep pop as his plate-covered hand crashes through the boards. Splinters and nails fly off every which way, clattering to the floor or sticking into the weak walls of his home. He heaves another sigh, a snarl mixed in as he scrolls down the page-- before his gaze sweeps over Kontempt's post. With nothing better to do with this minute of time, he smashes his fist through another crate. For a fleeting moment, he wonders why he even has them-- before his attention's brought back to the more important matter at hand. "WHAT FOOL DARES TO COMPLAIN IN A THREAD WHERE OTHERS HAVE SIMILAR COMPLAINTS!?"
He roars, his fingers smashing into his keyboard. Only after he had sent the post did Valafor calm, allowing the waves of rage to slowly subside and die. He had put the other man in his place. He was sure of it.