Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Just Fer Curiosities...

...I asked everybodies on the team what they's most recent achievement were, accordings ta the armory. Here's what we got:

Me (80): Brew of the Month
Kinnavieve (80): Auchenai Crypts
Vyprania (80): Superior
Ratdorf (73): I've Toured the Fjord
Kalishna (67): Working Day and Night
Gogmoth (61): Fast and Furious
Maurice (60): Master in First Aid
Ellspeth (50): Disturbing the Peace
Phoenicia (46): Sunken Temple
Orctacles (45): Artisan Cook
Alayda (38): Expert in First Aid
Danger Mouse (33): Expert in First Aid
Palintera (28): Going Down?
Noggle (27): Stormwind Stockade
Galertruby (12): The Captain's Booty

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Is Where Ellspeth Gets Achievements

Hi everyone! Ellspeth here, and wow! Do I have a lot to tell you!

About a week ago I finally said goodbye to Stranglethorn Vale, with its pirates and nagas and zombies and zombie naga pirates. To help me out as I work my way through Azeroth, Ratters got me these really kicky shoulders and robe. "Heirlooms", he called them, which I guess means he found them in a trunk in his grandmother's attic or something. What matters is, they have skulls on them. Demon skulls! How awesome is that??? My grandmother certainly never wore clothes with skulls on them.

This weekend, I tried something different. I'd already reached my forty-ninth season, smacking around pirates (yes, more pirates) and ogres and icky bug things, and I thought I'd try out this new battleground system. So I started questing in Felwood, but I kept myself in the queue for the Arathi Basin battleground, and took the new in-the-field automatic portal whenever it popped. And then the achievements and XP just started rolling in!

I used a system I learned from our friend Hydra: run, skip and jump around, put dots on anyone who looks at me funny, and sing to myself "I'm cute, I'm cute, I'm cute, you're DEAD, I'm cute..." It seemed to work pretty well, I think!

Okay, just to be clear. I did not loooove that dwarf after he was dead, I just hugged him. And that was already pretty icky, because he was limp and all dissolved on the inside and, well, a dwarf.

Hurray! I made it to my fiftieth season! I hate it when I get oppressed by the Man, but now the trainers is Thrallmar aren't so snooty and will, you know, talk to me. This was only the second quest I had to turn in that whole season!

And now I am trained. I had enough materials stockpiled in the bank to train up to about 325, but I really want to get to 350 so I can disenchant the greens Ratters is getting out in Northrend and be a part of the team again. To do that, though, I'll need to buy stuff at the Auction House. Oh Raaaattterrrrrssss? Can I have some moooonnnnnney?

Did you see the skulls on my shoulders? Aren't they adorable? Tootles!

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Vyprania's Story: Northrend, Part I

After several months in Outland, I felt I had sharpened my skills as much as I could. There was still work to do there – the scattered followers of Illidan, Kael'thas, and Vashj continued to maraud the contryside, along with ogre tribes and other assorted miscreants. However, this would continue for years, until the populations of that world recovered enough from the decades of war to police their own lands. This was not my problem. I had other fights to fight.

I caught a boat to Northrend in Stormwind harbor. The main armies had left weeks earlier, the vanguard even earlier, but the recruiter at the dock assured me there would be work for soldiers-for-hire like myself still. From his eagerness to get me to sign, I assumed either casualties had been much higher than expected, or he badly needed the agent's fee he would collect. Either way, I didn't care. I was going to where Arthas was, the creature who had shaped me into the monster I was, and I would finally get to face him again.

As my boat wound its way between the shear walls of the Howling Fjord, I could see that things had gone badly. I was not surprised to see boats which had been lost early in the invasion, their hulls ground to splinters by repeated rising and falling tides. But some of the wrecks were recent, massive harpoons embedded in their hulls and fresh corpses on their decks. One ship was still burning, having been attacked only hours earlier. As we pulled into the dock, harpoons began to fall around us, fired from forts high above us. The crew was very anxious for us to disembark quickly so they could turn around and get out of there, and most of the soldiers and quartermasters on-board were more than happy to comply. But I would not be rushed. Northrend was my destiny, and I would not enter it like a frightened rabbit.

Over the next few days I found that the strength of the Alliances had pushed on towards the center of Northrend, to rendezvous with the troops landing in Borea and strike at the heart of Arthas' empire. I was eager to join them, but clearly something needed to be done about these Vrykul who had appeared and made such a mess of Valgarde's harbor. I found that the skills I had learned in Outland had more than prepared me for the task at hand. The local commanders quickly learned that if they assigned me to take out a harpoon station, it got taken out. Quickly, and with many flames and barbarians dying screaming, and with much less soldiers captured and tortured. I will admit that the time I returned home surfing on a ship-killing harpoon I had fired myself as the village behind me burned was a little dramatic, but I could hear the voices in my head screaming with excitement as I flew through the air.

In the wasted land of Dragonblight I caught up to the Alliance army, under the command of Bolvar Fordragon. They were preparing to assault the southern entrance to Icecrown, known as Wrathgate. A Horde army was camped nearby, and the leaders of the two armies had made plans for a joint assault. I was assigned to reinforce a company of heavy infantry from Darkshire. These humans were brave and well armed, and eager for the fight. On the morning of the assault, we were on the right flank, at the potential weak joint between the two forces. We were hit hard when Arthas unleashed an elite wave of undead Vyrkul to try to split the Alliance from the Horde, but despite losing nearly a quarter of our strength we pushed them back. By the afternoon, we thought the battle was won. Arthas' troops had been broken, and the ghouls were fleeing back into the citadel. And then, there he was. Arthas himself strode out onto the battlefield, and at first it appeared to be a desperate gambit to rally his troops. I readied myself, eager to join the final charge to wipe him from the face of Azeroth. But then suddenly the young Horde general was down, his soul ripped from his body by the dark magic of Frostmourne, and the corpses of our own troops were beginning to rise and fight us.

“Did you think we had FORGOTTEN? Did you think we had FORGIVEN?”

These words rang out over the battlefield. Looking out over the heads of the soldiers around me, I saw strange vehicles with catapults mounted on them, up on the cliffs above the Horde camp. Leading them was a bent and twisted man, one of Sylvanas' Forsaken, wearing a robe over some strange, exotic armor. There was such rage in his voice, such burning passion. When he cried out “Behold now the terrible vengeance of the Forsaken!” I could not stop myself. I raised my fist and cheered. Yes! The voices screamed with me, for vengeance! Against Arthas, against the Scourge, against even those putative allies who looked on me with scorn and contempt and distrust. I wanted to join him and his apothecaries, to hurl those cannisters of green death down upon them all, the undead and the living.

But as quickly as they had risen up in my head, the voices faded, and I became aware of the horror around me. As the plague clouds spread through our to armies, people were screaming, gasping, falling. I spun, searching for a way to safety, to get the troops I was supposed to be helping out of this trap. I caught a glimpse of Arthas stumbling back into his citadel and the gates slamming shut behind him. Justice would have to wait for another day. Next to me a soldier, still a boy even by the standards of the short-lived humans, fell to his knees, horrid gurgling sounds coming from him. I dropped my mace and hoisted him up onto my shoulders. My eyes burning, my lungs feeling like the were filling with mud, I struggled to the rear, fighting to keep my feet as I was bumped and shoved by those fleeing around me. The ground was by now covered with the bodies of the dead and dying, and I worried I would trip and never get up. The dense green gas was everywhere now, swirling around my feet, wafting up around me, obscuring my view in every direction. My mind went numb, overwhelmed by the pain in my lungs, my legs, my heart. All I could think was that I needed to get this boy I was carrying to safety.

I don't know if it was hours later or only minutes that a patrol found me, stumbling across the frozen plain, still carrying the boy. By now he was quite dead - stiff and cold. They told me later that I was not far behind him. I spent two months in an infirmary while my body healed, my lungs and other organs having to reknit themselves after being nearly devoured by the plague. I found out that the Forsaken apothecary whose words had stirred something in me was a traitor, not only against the Alliance but the Horde as well. Kinnavieve had been part of the small team Varian Wrynn himself had led into the sewers of Undercity to execute him. He was a monster, who hated everyone who was not like him, and had plotted for years for the right moment to slaughter thousands.

So why did the news of his death make me feel so sad?

Julia and Ratshag

I done earned me my "Chef" title a while ago, but I just this week picked up the hat fer ta go with. Took a while, 'cause they wanted a hundred of them cooking thingies. Great googly moogly. Well, I dones it, I got me hat, and now I's ready fer ta get down and dirty in the kitchen. On the menu tonight be a cajun-style treat: Oracle Jambalaya. Is gonna be delicious.

Oh, and anyone tells ya ya cain't look damn virile in a poofy white hat? Tell'em they's just a jealous gunkerdupper.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Innuendo? What Innuendo?

I mean, all I did was have a couple of drinks and go for a walk around Shattrath. There's nothing wrong with that. And then I ... well .... I'm pretty sure .... I think ... Okay, I have no idea what happened after that.

My mother's going to kill me, I just know it....

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Personal Grooming Is Important To Paladins

Dunno what Lady Jess' pally were planning fer ta wear to Brewfest, but apparently hair removal were required...

Saturday, September 19, 2009


Most days are like all of the others
Go to work, come back home, watch TV!
But brother if I had me druthers
I'd chuck it and head out to sea.
For I dream of the skull and the crossbones,
I dream of the great day to come,
When I dump the mundane for the old Spanish Main
And trade me computer for rum! ARR!
Yo ho, yo ho,
It's "Talk Like A Pirate Day"
When laptops are benches
God gave us for wenches
And a sail ain't a low price ta pay!
When timbers are shivered
And lillies are livered
And every last buckle is swashed,
We'll abandon our cars
For a shipful of ARRRRRs
And pund back the grog 'til we're sloshed! Yo ho....
Don't pick up yer phone and say "Hello,
Our ten-o-clock meeting's delayed",
Ye scrunch up yer face and ye bellow,
"AVAST! Ye've been bleedin' BELAYED!"
Ye can't keep this fun to yerself, I bet,
So sing "Aye!" "ARRR!" "Ayy!" every man!
We ain't got much grasp of the alphabet,
But a damn good retirement plan!
T' me,
Yo, Ho, Yo, Ho,
It's "Talk Like A Pirate" Day!
Whatever's in fashion is in for a thrashin'
And bein' polite is passe!
When it's ev'ry man's duty to grab his proud beauty
And let out a hearty YO HO!
And if this offends you, hold y'r breath as we sends you
Ta Davy Jones' Locker ya go! Yo ho....
We'll tell every banker "Heave to and weigh anchor!"
Buy latte with pieces of eight
We'll fight to be chosen as cap'n or bosun
The loser, o' course, is worst mate!

When we hoist Jolly Roger, the landlubbers dodge 'er,
We fill 'em with loathing and fear,
We'll plunder and pillage each city and village,
Or at least clean out Wal-Mart of beer!

Is big thanks ta Tom Smith fer the lyrics. Is from this most excellent song. Go git a copy, ya scurvy dog!

Monday, September 14, 2009

Kinna Haz Pantz!

Hello gentle readers and Bellbell, who used to not be gentle but apparently is now that she mainly just heals.

As Ratters would say, this happened a while ago, but I didn't talk about it then because I'm talking about it now. After more than six months of trying to get some new tanking pants to replace my faded old Daunting Legplates, I finally found a pair of Legguards of Abandoned Fealty in the champion's cache up at the Argent Tournament.

Over the months a number of people have helped me try to get this upgrade, in Naxx and Violet Hold and now the Tournament - far too many to name them all. I would, however, like to thank Shooter McGovern, who gave me some Frosthide Leg Armor last December, saying I'd have some epic pants to put it on soon enough. I kept it all this time, Shooter! And, of course, I want to thank my good friend Shianti, who has threatened, browbeaten and cajoled people into running instances with me, as well as threatening, browbeating, and cajoling me into going when I was ready to give up!

Haz pantz, Shianti!

Friday, September 11, 2009

Friday Night Drunken Singings

I saw a worgen with a Chinese menu in his hand
Walkin' through the shtreets of Shattrath in the rain
He was lookin' for a place called Lee Ho Fooks
Gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein....hic!

He's the hairy-headed gent who fuhggin ran amok in Kent
Lately he'sh been overheard in Mayfair ...hic!
You better shtay away from him -
He'll rip yer bluggernuggin' lungs out Jim!
I'd like ta meet his tailor.
Worgensh of Gilneas.

My love ish like a tidal wave, shpinning over your head
Drowning you in my promishesh, better left unsaid.
I'm the right kind of shinner to releashe your inner fantashiesh.
The invinchible winner, and you know what I wash born to be.

I'm a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Won't you meshsh around with me?
I'm a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Won't you meshsh around - yesh yesh yesh!

It's time to taste what you most fear
Righteous Fury will not help you here ...hic!
Brace yourshelf, my dear:

It's a holiday in Zul'drak!
It's tough, kid, but it's life.
It's a holiday in Zul'drak!
Don't forget to pack a knife....hic!

You with sad eyes
Don't be discouraged
Oh I realize
Its hard to take courage ...hic!
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inshide of you
Can make you feel so small

But I shee your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show ...hic!
Your true colorsh
True colors are beautiful
Like a rainbow.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Hurray Beer!

Is big hairy congo rats ta our own little Palintera, and her steadfast dedication, month-after-month. No matter how hard it got, she never quit. We's all very proud of her.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Ratshag Grades the Sunreaver Dailies

Is been a while now, and I's had some time fer to evaluates them new daily quests what ya gets fer being exalted with the Sunreavers. If yer if the Alliance persuasion, ya gets the same ones from the Silver Covenant, which ta me says the Blood Elves and the High Elves just ain't as different from each other as they'd wants ya ta believe. They's both a buncha prissy snobs with creepy magic brooms what think they's shiite smells purdier than everyone elses. But anywho, back to them dailies.

Breakfast of Champions
Important thing fer ta remember here is, iron dwarves don't like drum music. They's more happy with the sweet dulcets of a harp, or mebbe soom classic-sounding cello. Ya know, like that Yo-Ho-Ho Ma bugger. But drums? They's totally not cool. Oh, and ya gotta kill not-really-but-still-kinda-big worms.

Grade: C+

Gormok Wants His Snobolds
Apparentlies, Gormok the Impaler don't have a problem with being trussed up outside the Tournament building, waiting fer ta be rituallisticly slaughtered by 25 glunkerthubbers with axes and firebolts and bacons of light, all for the amusement of Tirion Fordring. No, he's just pissed 'cause he didn't get ta bring his favorite snobold with him. At first, I were all like, I's catching eight snobolds, but what if none of them's the right one? But if ya stands near Gormok for a bit, ya realizes there ain't nuthin' ta worries about. Is basically:

"Oh! My favorite snobold! I will hug him and pet him and squeeze him and name him George and.... uh oh."

Then there be a pause while he tosses a very smooshed snobold away, and reaches inta the cage fer a new one.

"Oh! My favorite snobold! I will hug him and pet him and name him George..."

Just, ya know, watch yer step when yer walkin' by.

Grade: A-

Rescue at Sea
Buncha seaweed dude pirates is attacking a totally innocent, peace-loving Sunreaver flower children, and they needs you fer ta go rescue. Pretty straightforward. I always brings me water-walking elixirs, so's I can walk away when I's done rescuing and get a bight ta eat and hop on me drake without being disturbified.

One thing ya gots ta watch out for - make sure ya rescues the right ship full of totally innocent, peace-loving elf flower children, or the crew will turn on you soon as the seaweed dudes is under control.

Grade: B

Stop the Aggressors
Kill seaweed dudes. I likes it.

Grade: A

The Light's Mercy

Wait. I's supposed to go do last rites on a buncha dead tuskarrs? The fuhg I look like, a glubbernuggin paladin? If they's dead, it sucks ta be them, but why should I care fer ta read outta some book over they's unlootable bodies? Oh, yeah, 'cause I's gettin' paid to.

Grade: D+

What Do You Feed A Yeti, Anyway?
Now I's just a simple orc what cain't be bothered fer ta keep track of the details, but I's pretty sure what when Roy Scheider were trying ta chum hisself up a shark in Jaws, he did it from inside the boat. That ain't how the elf fishermens want ya to do it, though - they wants you in the water, where there's sharks and some really lost seaweed dudes swimmin' around. Pretty sure they's laughings at us splashin' around out there. I wouldn't mind, except sometimes it be a damn fuhggin' pain in the arse fer ta gets back in the boat ta get more chum.

Grade: B

You've Really Done It This Time, Kul
Kul the Reckless. A paladin from the Corki school of adventuring. Every day, he takes a buncha rookies out against the Cult of the Damned, Only ta get hisself captured and locked in a cage while they prepares fer ta turn him inta zombiechow or somesuch. I expects we'll see him again in Icecrown Citadel, locked in a cage while the abominations argue over who gets ta play "Hide the Dwarf" first.

Grade: C-