Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Wait, Tell Me Again Why I'm Naked?

'Cause yer beatin' on this big fuppernudder Azaloth.

Yes, but-

Ya needs ta git yer kung fu skills up.

I understand, but why-

This bugger is banished, sorta permanent-like. So ya can beats on him and nobody gets hurt.

Of course. Though, I don't-

Kung Fu is important, case ya gets disarmed.

Yes, I know-

Or yer weapon breaks.

Right. But why do I-

Don't wanna be useless in a fight, do ya?

No. Absolutely, I get it. It's just-

Plus, there's an achievement in it. Knucklicious, or sumthin'. I cain't be bothered ta keep track of the details.

Of course not. Speaking of details-

Is gonna take ya a while of beatin' on this bugger ta get to 400, though.

Well, yes, so anybody could walk by and-

And during that time somebody might decide for ta mess with them 'locks keeping him banished.

Yeah! And then they'd see-

And since yer mind mighta wandered off a bit during all that repetative punching, ya might not notice what he's suddenly unbanished and eating yer face off until it be too late. And then yer armor'd get all mussed, which'd be no good. So is best ta do it starkers, just in case.

Uh huh. I'm not sure this isn't all just some elaborate scheme of yours to generate blog fodder. Come see the naked paladin, or something. Hey! Where are you going? Ratters? ... Ratters! ... RATTERS YOU BETTER NOT BE BLOGGING THIS!!!

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Fishing Woots

Hello gentle readers.

Well, I've gotten my fishing skill to the point where I can fish in Outland, sorta. So I've been talking to Old Man Barlo the past few days, helping him track down and catch some special fish, in return for a little bag of fishing treasures each day. Well, today I hit the jackpot:

And along the way, I picked up this modest achievement:

And then I went and talked to those roly-poly Kalu'aks, and as a reward for my dedicated fishing, they sold me this shiny new pole!
:: grin ::

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Vyprania's Story: The Priest

The Knights of the Ebon Hand were established. We were recognized by the leadership of the Alliance and the Horde, and endorsed by Tirion Fordring. But we were not received with open arms by our new allies. People in Stormwind no longer threw rotting fruit at me, but the vendors were all suddenly out of merchandise when I entered their shops. The auctioneers would not recognize me when I tried to bid on an item, and the children would quickly cross to the other side of the canal when they saw me.

Light's Hope Chapel was worse, despite the fact that these were supposed to be my comrades in the fight against the remaining Scourge. Unseen hands and legs would shove or trip me into the mud, and there would be nothing but innocent faces when I turned around. My belongings were rifled through when I was out, and anything of value taken. Notes denouncing me as "Lich bitch" and "Arthas' whore" and worse were left on my bunk.

And so, like many of my fellow Death Knights, I found myself passing through the Dark Portal and into Outland. With Vashj and Kael'thas and Illidan defeated, this alien world had been largely abandoned by the mercenaries who had made it their home for the past two years. All that were left were rear guard detachments of the Horde and Alliance, and the Scryers and Aldor strutting about Shattrath City, pretending that they still mattered. It was a land of Death Knights, sharpening our skills against a far greater range of opponents than we had encountered in our battles against the Scarlet Crusade - demons and ogres and fel beasts. Some talked of destroying the Portal and cutting ourselves off from our allies who despised us, but I could never support such a move. Arthas was on the other side, waiting, and some day I would go back and face him.

But there were times I wondered if I would ever make it to that day. Killing felboars for some goblin entrepeneur covered my living expenses, and kept my reflexes sharp, but there was no sense of purpose in it. No mission fulfilled. And so I began to spend more and more of my time in the bars of Shattrath's Lower City, seeking escape from the emptiness that gnawed at me, the voices that shouted in my head for vengeance and blood and justice, if only for a few hours. And it was here, surrounded by empty flasks of port and listening to some orc up on the stage scream that he was a fish-man, that I met the priest.

She didn't look like much, a short, stocky dwarf with black hair pulled back in a simple braid. But her gear marked her as a seasoned veteran of the recent campaigns against Serpentshrine Cavern and Tempest Keep and the troll city of Zul'Aman. Her left hand was crooked at an odd angle, as if it the arm had been broken and had not quite healed properly. When she pulled up the chair across from me and sat down, however, it was with the deliberate care not of a worn out campaigner, but rather one deep in her cups. Like me.

"'Allo, lass," she said, her speach slightly slurred. "Mind if I join ya?"

I shrugged non-commitally, and stared at her, baffled. After a minute, with a directness I would never have dreamed of using in my former life, I demanded "What are you doing here?"

"Ach, I'm helpin' mehself to some of yuir port. Mah flask bein' empty, ya see."

"No, I mean, why aren't you in Northrend?"

"Oh, that. Been replaced by a new gel, doncha know. She's younger, taller, prettier, an' can do fear wards and desp'rate prayers as well as Ah can. So ole Cay, she ain't needed no more. But that's all right - gives meh time ta catch up on meh drinkin'."

Not having a purpose - I could relate to that. My purpose was to kill Arthas, but these days that seemed so remote that I might as well not have one at all. I nodded, waited to see what else she would say.

"Now, lass," she said. "I've seen a lot of yuir type pass through these past weeks. And none of them be what I would call ... happy ... but you. You are more troubled than most, I ken. It is like black waves emanating from yeh. And I suspect there's things yeh carry inside yeh, dark things, things what weigh on yuir soul. Now, Ah'm just a simple priest of the Light, and Ah'm probably not the sort a Black Hand elf like yuirself would chose ta unburden on, but Ah am here. And Ah know a thing or two of the darkness we've all had ta embrace ta get through, and as for mah not being an elf, ishnu al-elusia amayne kaldorei, sellia alayn vesh Elune-na nalluria Cenarius-na falibus."

I blinked, startled to hear this dwarf speaking in nearly accentless Darnassian. Where had she learned that? And I found myself beginning to tell my story - the ill-fated mission to Lordaeron, the betrayal at the hands of the Scarlet Crusade, my bargain wih Arthas. She listened mostly in silence, non-judgemental and accepting, nodding occassionally. I told her more - things I had never told anyone. The young mother I struck down in New Avalon, how I murdered Sergeant Nalise, our defeat at Light's Hope Chapel, the bitter shame I felt on my mission to Stormwind. The more I talked, the easier it became. The screaming in my head became muted, and I felt a degree of peace I had not experienced in years. I do not understand how this short, drunken priest of  faith different than what I had grown up with, and so antithetical to what I had become, could make me feel this way, with such little gestures and so few words, yet somehow she did.

When I finshed, we were both silent for a minute. Then she spoke. "Aye, that's a heavy burden to be carrying in yuir heart, lass. And you will be carrying it - not'ing Ah can do to end that. But there are things what can help you carry that burden. First, I can give you this: Vish al'narith, mallune del nash'ant Vyprania tel annath." When she uttered those words, I could feel something enter me, something strong but gentle. It was as if Elune herself had touched my soul. Perhaps she had - spiritualism had never been something I understood well.

"And second," Cay the priest said, "there is a man I think yeh should talk to. He has an assortment of adventures he has gathered together to look out for each ot'er. People what dinnae quite fit in anywhere else. I t'ink it might be a good place for yeh. A home for when you need one. This man, he's an odd duck, and," (her voice briefly rose to a startlingly piercing squeak) "oi! is he a randy lad!"

"But," she continued in her normal voice after a fit of giggling. "He is a good man, and Ah t'ink he'd take you in. Just one thing Ah should warn yeh of, lov."

She paused.

"He's an oorc."

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Hard Like Heroic

More than I can handle?

I felt horrible fighting Keri. She'd been my friend, when I first came to the Borean Tundra. I'd saved her once from that frickin bastard Malygos, and we'd fought side-by-side to defeat Saragosa. I thought ... maybe ... somehow I could ... save her again. Without ...

Well, Malygos can't hurt her anymore. Poor Keri.

Monday, December 22, 2008

Is Where Danger Mouse Has Something For Kohl Drake

A few days ago, after seeing Ratterss in a dress, Khol Drake said "...i don't want my eyes anymore..."

Huzzah! Khol wishess to embrace the Shadow!

Come over here, pretty boy, I'll get you fixed up in a jiffy! <3!

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Guest Blogger: Maurice

Hello. I am Maurice, the Death Knight of Looove.

In days gone by, I was known as Maurice, the Paladin of Looove, and the beauteous ladies of Lordaeron would swoon as I walked past in my wondrously bright armor. 

Now, after my slight, ahem, mishap, I am living in Stormwind City and I look forward to many great conquests here. I am still every bit as dashing as when I was alive, plus now I have that special, back-from-the-grave je ne sais quoi.
But first, that foul orc Ratshag, whose employ I was forced to accept, told me I should join the guild he is associated with. Since a guild provides many opportunities for the ladies to meet me, I could see this was one of his few clever ideas (he is a rather simple orc, you see). So I approached one of the officers and introduced myself.

I explained how I fulfill a critical duty, standing by the mailbox and disenchanting incoming items. She was, of course, thrilled beyond belief at the opportunity to have a dashing hero such as myself in her guild.

Once I had been officially initiated into the organization, I quickly made myself known. After all, ha ha, there will be much demand for my time once the ladies get to know me. We should get this process started then as soon as possible, I thinks.

Of course, some of the men in the guild felt threatened by my presence. This is understandable, of course, for I am the Death Knight of Love. They will not be able to compete. I would, of course, feel sorry for them, except it is not worthy of my time. 

And so, that is my tale. I shall be keeping regular hours at the mailbox outside of the Stormwind Bank, to make it easy for the ladies to find me, and swoon.

If Kitty Says Word One About This Helmet....

... I swear ima gonna break his frickin' jaw.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Friday Night Drunken Singings

In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway Azerothian dream
At night we ride through the mansions of Kara in suicide machines
Shprung from cages out on Warmaul Hill,
Thorium wheeled, health pot injected, and steppin' out over the glubberniggin' line
Baby this town rips the bones from your back
It's a death trap, it's a shuicide rap
We gotta get out while we're fuhgin' young ...hic!
`Cause buggers like ush, baby we was born to run!

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
I'm begging of you pleasse don't take my man.
Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jooooleeeeeeeene!
Please don't take him jusst because you can

Your beauty is beyond compare
With flaming locksssh of auburn hair
With ivory sskin and eyes of emerald green
Your ssmile is like a breath of spring
Your voice is shoft like ssummer rain
And I cannot compete with you, Jolene
You warm-blooded bitch

No, you shee, I'm not really drink sho I'm not gonna shing you shee ...hic!
'Caushe, you shee, we paladinsh can jusht casht frickin' Cleanshe on ourshlevesh
Like thish! Poof!
Hee hee hee that ticklesh.
And jusht like that the alcoboozhe is aaaallllll goooonnnnne. Bye bye! ...hic!
Shober as a frickin' rock. That'sh me.

Maurice, the Death Knight of Love:
I'm so vain, I probably think this song is about me
I'm so vain, I'll bet I think this song is about me
Dont I? Dont I?

Ring around the rosies
A pocket full of posies
Ashes, ashes
We all fall DOWN!!!

Tee hee I love songs about plagues.
... um, Ratters? I've fallen and I can't reach my beer.

Glarghala gagghl gah
Arhlagha aggl gharhalagh.
Glahllha ghar allhagha gha
Gahragla gahagga arhlga glahg.

// drum solo //

Galagh gahhll garhh ahhghr glahh
Gallagh aghala aggrh lahllaglharl gha.
Aghlahhl glarrh ghalrlhh alhhrga
Gallhr glah garrahhalglar!

Is thanks ta Bruce Springsteen, Dolly Parton, Carly Simon, Anonymousified schoolkids, and ... um ... Tupac Shakur? Gene Autry? buggered if I know...

Is Santa Shag

Mystic Nibbles were wanting ta know if an orc in the red Santa suit would look as shmexy as a tasty piece of spacegoat flesh like Tatia. So I borrowed Ellspeth's and kinda stretched it a bit. Well, I let Nib make the call. Come sit on me lap, little girl, and I brings ya a pony.

But fer the all-out sexifizings, nuthin beats the Little Black Dress, which Ellspeth were also kind enough fer ta lends me. I'll be under the mistletoe, ladies.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Guess What?

** Huge grin **

She Weren't Me First...

...but she were the first for ta leave me a comment what still be blogging. And she's also been one helluva damn fine friend. Who is?

Is Almost Evil Hydrargyrum - she's cute, in a show-no-mercy drain-your-soul liquid-at-room-temperature kinda way. Go checks her out. Left me a comment waaaay back here, on me old blog.

And since ~One Among A Huge Freakin' Bunch~ started this memememe, I supposes I needs ta tag some other buggers. So here goes:
Bananarama Shoulders
Kalloplaiee the Crafter
Mysticalish Chicanery
Way Too Many Annas

Post on yer own blog, leave a comment here, or pretends ya never saw this. Whichever creams yer twinky.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

The Purge Goes To Utgarde Keep

Felt good ta lead me old guild inta a dungeon again, after a hiato- haitus- haiaiai- bugger it. a long break. We only had four of us available - me, Throttle the Tinker, Mr Hoof on Healz, and shiny new Death Kinght Ix - so this ended up being more of a recon mission than a full-out killing spree. I just gots one question on our tactilizations, though: How comes when we ran into the instance, everybody but me nakedified?
Seriously. How comes?

Well, Thanks Kitty

So I's gettin ready last night fer me date with the Tuskarr Wimmens Cliff-Diving Champion when Kinnavieve comes running into the Team Ratshag HQ with her face in her hands. Right past me, into the bedroom, and slams the door. The bedroom. The only bedroom. And I got a big date coming up. This is not good.

I look at Danger Mouse, who's sitting in the corner not-reading a book with her no eyes. She gives me a non-look that says "you're the boss. You deal with it." Hunnh.

"Uh, Kinn?" I says to the door. "You all right?"

"No! I hate him!" comes a muffled reply.

"Hate who?"

"Stupid stinky dwarf."

"Um, yeah, they is. Which one in particular?"

"Stupid stinky spirit beast."

"Oh, that one. What he do?"

"He said I should be on And he told everybody! He said I went out of my way to get the ugliest armor and the ugliest helmets and the ugliest everything. It's not my fault I never got a chance to get Lightbringer Armor!"

"That's right! And I think you should get up off of that bed and go tell him so. Like in the next (/check watch) 10 minutes."

"Stupid stinky 30-year-old-virgin horndog armor designers."

"Yes! And you should get up right now and go give them fluggernubbers a piece of your mind! Or a piece of your mace! Piece of anything."

"Stupid stinky Murkblood Avengers."

And so it went. I hadda cancel my date with the Tuskarr Wimmens Cliff-Diving Champion; well, postpone it, technically, but now that bugger Maerrakech gonna get a chance ta make his movifications on her first. Ah, well, plenty of other large marine mammals in the sea. Anywho, I eventually coaxed her out with the combined temptation of undead trolls to smash up in ZD and some cookies Danger Mouse had just baked. Heard her mutter something about "gonna bubble-hearth on his ass" as she went tromping off in her very becoming armor.

And Kitty, since me evening plans got shot down by all that, next time we's bar-hopping and ya needs a wingman fer ta help make yer move on some tasty piece of nelf-flesh? Just summon up yer rhino.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Galertruby's Guide To Preparing For 10-Man Naxx

Garhhl. Gahhl galha Garrrahhalagh.

Gllah gahr allahhgrl ghallagl gah. Agh glahhgl glahhgl garrh gahhlahr glahhr, ga gallhahl! Aglhha gahllragl gllah aghhrla gahhllrah gah glaghhlh glahh. Aghahll garhhr glahhlglhaarhga ghallah allha, garrharlh agghal ga arhhh galahhargh. Glallh garrh, gahhlahglahhr agglh ahghlagl glagglha ga arhhh.

Gaghaha aglah agghr laghalagh grahagl, gaghaha glhahg agrgha laghahrag. Glhaggla agg larhg galhagga ghaha alahg, glah, gahaghga gahlgal allahg glha:
Glaglha gha, aggrahgl lahg gahhaglarh. Garrh glahaggl glha agghalarg agglahar ghaggl aglha. Agglh ahghlagla agh grrhal, gallha gra gahhllha gallraghl ahl lagglarh. Gahhaga:

Glahhgrl glah arrlh aggrhala gahhl glha. Glahg grahhglh glhhlhalha gahhr garrha, aglh glhha gharhl. Glhagl gllha ahhr glahhlglhaarhga ghallah allhag. Gllha garrharlh aglhha gahllragl. Gllah aghhrla gahhllrah gah glaghhlh glahh, gahhl aghhr garahhghlahhrgh aghraahl glhahhl gahhlah. Glah aghr Ghrallhahl gha gahrrlagahr agh gahlagh. Agghlagh garrh arhhlagh gahl grah glahhghl. Glahgl arhlg glah:
Glhargal glah agglha arglhaglh, gahalg aggla gahrlagghl. Laggharlag agglha gah. Aglh aglha gallh gahll gahrrallah. Agrhh glagglha gha ghrallhalha ghagglha gaharrgh glha agglahg, agh argalagh gahhll garhh ahhghr glahh.

Alhhagh gha,

Sunday, December 7, 2008

A Dark Day

I shouldn't be alive.
If it hadn't been for that sortee on our left flank ...
If I hadn't ...
::sharp inhale::
You have probably already heard of what happened, there at Wrathgate. If not, well, you will. Oh, you will. I- I don't want to talk about it. It's too much. Too soon. Too...
But now I'm holding-
She says I must-
But I'm only-
But I'm-
::covers eyes::
::ragged breaths::
::ragged breaths::
::deep breath::
I'm sorry. It's just so overwhelming. And I'm still trying to understand. To make some sense of it...

The day began in the town of Wintergarde, in the the Dragon Blight, where for the past few days I have been helping to beat back Scourge attacks. This morning we had a breakthrough when I was able to obtain the phylactery of the Lich Thel'zan, commanding the attacks. With it, I drew him out of his lair in the catacombs beneath the city to where Commander Yorik of the 7th Legion and best troops were waiting. The foul monster put up a tremendous fight, and summoned a swarm of ghouls to aid him, but in the end we were victorious.
After, High Commander Wyrmbane himself credited me with having turned the tide of the battle. Which was rather an exageration - after all, many had contributed and sacrificed.
::secretly bursting with pride::
And then, he dispatched me to the base at Angrathar, to report to Lord Bolvar Fordragon, commanding the Alliance half of the seige of Arthas' citidel. Wow. Me. Holy frickin' cow.
There she was. Alexstraza the Life-Binder, queen of the dragons. Lord Fordragon had asked me to ask for her help in clearing the skies over Wrathgate. She was so strong and powerful and frickin' important, I just couldn't believe she would have any time for me.
Yet when they brought me before her, and she smiled at me, and said, "It is good to meet you in person, Kinnavieve. I have known you since before you were born."
I, well, gosh, what do you say to that? When she looked at me, with her glowing eyes, I felt like she was looking into me, into my soul, searching for something. With anyone else I would have felt threatened and naked, but with her it felt safe, loving, maternal. I realize that doesn't make much sense - I just don't know how else to explain it.
Not only did she agree to help us, she sent me to lead her dragons to kill Grand Necrolord Antiok and end the Scourge's control of the frost wyrms.
And the attack on Wrathgate began.

The betrayal-
The screams-
And he was falling-
:: wipes tears ::
I still can't talk about it. I'm sorry.
You've probably heard what happened already, anyway. I- I really can't add anything to that story. I shouldn't even be alive.
:: sharp breath ::
But afterward, Alexstrasza was there, on the battlefield. And she called to me. And she asked me to take his- to take it to the king. And to tell the king that he musn't lose faith.

And then she said-
She said that the Alliance needed a hero. That they needed me.

That can't be right. I'm no hero. I'm just Kinnavieve, woodcutter's daughter from Nowhereshire. Heroes are larger than life, like Tirion Fordring, or Ratshag, or Bol-
Darn it, a hero wouldn't be standing here clutching his shield and bawling some scared little girl! There must be someone else!
But she just looked at me with those huge, deep, glowing eyes. She didn't say anymore. But I could sense that she believed what she was saying. And I just- I just couldn't bear the thought of letting her down. Even though I knew she was so wrong about me.
:: sniff ::
I'm not a hero. I'm just frickin' not. But I'l be damned if I'm going to let the Queen of the Dragons down.
:: grits teeth ::
My people do need a hero now. And, if I'm the best they've got, then I owe it to them to give them the best I've got. I owe it to him, and everyone else who died today. And I will do the absolute best I can.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Jessika Was Right

It's a frickin' ugly-ass log!

mutter mutter old one looked mean mutter goofy mutter mutter squishies better not frickin laugh mutter mutter mutter

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Aggro. Kinn Has It.

Hello gentle readers.

I reached my 75th season yesterday and, after talking it over with Ratters and my trainer, decided to re-train as a protection paladin. A tank. So I put down my one gold coin to reset my talents, and then got it wrong picking my new ones.
So I put down my five gold coins to reset my talents, and a few minutes later I was a tank. Blessing of Kings. Avenger's Shield. Hammer of the Righteous. I has them. Skillz?
::nervous grin::
I get back to you on that.
Well, less than half an hour later, my GMs Fio and Ban were looking for a tank for a den of Nerubians called Azjol-Neruboob (at least, that's whan Ban called it...) and hey! Guess who was available! Couple other people and in we went. In the tunnels. With the bugs. Have I mentioned that I hate bugs?
Okay, well, at first I was pretty newbish. I had some trouble remembering what I was supposed to do to manage the mobs (and it didn't help that I'd forgotten to lock my spells down and I sorta "lost" consecrate for a bit there) and, well, there were a few deaths. But a couple resurrection spells and we were back in business. And we got that place cleared out, yes we did.
So. What's up next? (Hopefully with not so much bugs.)