Pikeman Archive

Over twenty-five thousand years ago, a great Republic, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, bore unification to all creatures of the Galaxy. This momentous organization came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of would-be pikemen, who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their daily grind.

But recently, the Galaxy is not free. Even after the Clone Wars, the life of the Pikeman is still sadly crippled by the manacles of high HAM and the chains which hampers our block. Today, on the sands of Tatooine, pikemen live on a lonely dune of solitude in the midst of a vast ocean of developmental love. Today, the galactic survivor of the brawler profession is still languished in the corners of melee dominance and finds himself an exile in his own profession. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our forum to withdraw a credit. When the architects of our class wrote the code of these Star Wars Galaxies, they were signing a promissory note to which every profession was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all creatures, yes, pikemen as well as Fencers and Tera Kasi, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is obvious today that the developers have defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as the citizens of the pikemen profession are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, the developers have given the pikemen the Nightsister Lance, a lance which has come back marked "all brawlers come forth and prosper."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this profession. And so we have come to withdraw this credit, a credit that will give us upon demand the riches of Nightsisters and the security of PVP equality.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the pikemen devotees, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the pikeman is the victim of the unspeakable horrors in Player vs. Player. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of HAM costs, cannot gain looted weapons because of our damage limitations. We cannot be satisfied as long as a pikeman on Dathomir cannot loot and a pikeman on Endor believes he has nothing for which to loot for. No, no, we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like a mighty canyon krayt dragon.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the Pikeman’s dream.

I have a dream that one day this profession will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident that all brawlers are created equal.

I have a dream that one day on the hills of Naboo the sons of pikemen and the sons of Tera Kasi will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that my four little pikemen children will one day live in a galaxy where they will not be judged by the choice of their profession but by the how much damage they do for their guild. I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every pikeman shall be exalted, and every lance and vibro axe shall be made legendary, the rough places will be made grindable, and the pikeman loot will be made affordable, and the glory of the Force shall be revealed and all pikemen shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I will go back to Dathomir with. With this faith we will be able to harvest out of the mountain of despair a holocron of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our profession into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work with a master weapon, be able to hit a fencer, to stand up when a Tera Kasi knocks us down, knowing that we will be equal one day.

And so let the combat balance ring

In case I need to say this, this was adapted from "I have a Dream" by Marin Luther King, Jr.