Thursday, November 8, 2012

The Scribe

In the darkest hour of the night there is but one light visible, still flickering in the window of the Dalaran Dormitory. If you quietly approach the window, lightly fogged with the difference in warmth from the fireplace within, you can see a young woman. Her dark shoulder length hair is tucked neatly behind her ears and she wears a simple but sturdy grey robe. She is hunched over her desk in diligent concentration. She is writing. The soft glow of a magical lantern bobs just over her shoulder illuminating her work.

You might wonder why she writes so industriously at this odd hour. She is a student here of the arcane, but her first love is for wordcraft. She is a scribe. At this hour, if she is not found scribbling at her desk she can be found in her bed curled up with a good book.

When she was younger she thought to become a painter. Sadly, she did not have the talent to coax from her brush to the canvas the images she saw in her mind's eye. Now she paints with words creating worlds on paper. Some may say this is an easier art. Yet sometimes those just right words fly just out of pen's reach.

Still she writes...

Thursday, October 25, 2012

One Month In (or bucket lists are not fun)

It has been one month since the release of Mists of Pandaria. I'm sure my readers may have noticed a significant slow down in posts here, namely because the game is keeping me so busy in my spare time that I just haven't had as much time to be creative.

I keep an eye on other blogs, and seeing updates on others' bucket lists leaves me feeling pretty poorly. You see, I very rarely write down my bucket list, because then it becomes a "thing." You know? The kind of "thing" that MUST be completed. But this is not to say that I do not have a bucket list, I just keep it in my head.

So where am I one month into the expansion? I have one level 90. Surprisingly, the character I most enjoyed playing right out of the box was my Paladin. She has her primary tradeskills maxed (enchanting and tailoring).  Yes, I know, a plate wearer with clothie tradeskills, but in my defense she sat as my bank alt for several years doing next to nothing before I gave her those professions. I am currently working on faction rep with the Tillers, the Anglers, and of course the Golden Lotus. This is about as much daily questing as I can stomach at the moment. I have yet to do any dungeons or raids with her, however I did help kill the Sha of Anger once (does that count as a raid?).

I occasionally have logged onto my two level 85 characters, but have not gotten very far in Pandaria leveling with either of them. I do intend to work them up to level 90, however I am having a lot of fun leveling my mage (currently level 21), a Pandaren shaman (currently level 12), and a gnome monk (currently level 10).

I sometimes dabble into pet battles. My highest level team is all level 8, so I haven't gotten too far. I enjoy the pet battles enough that I'm limiting how much time I spend on them. Once upon a time fishing was my go-to wind down activity. Now it is pet battles.

So, what's the conclusion? Well, we all know I am an alt-oholic. This contributes to how far behind I am. However, I would also argue that I can't really put myself on a level playing field with your average WoW blogger. Once upon a time I was able to play several hours every day. Now my game time has been pared down to two days a week. Granted on those days I do tend to play for 5-8 hours, but still...

WTB a winning lottery ticket so I can quit work and play WoW full time

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

A Vision Quest

"Theramore destroyed... Ashenvale attacked but holding... The Alliance leadership calling out for Horde blood and vice versa... We of the Cenarion Circle must stand together more so now than ever before. This is why I have gathered you, my closest druid friends, here for this most sacred rite. Will you partake with me in this ceremony calling on the Earthmother for guidance, here in this land most troubled by recent events?"

My eyes roamed over those gathered, taking in the calm fierceness of my tauren friend, the wild strength of my worgen friend, and the spiritual vigor of my troll friend. Each of them nodded in solemn affirmation.

I knelt on the red clay earth of the mesa we had chosen for the ritual. Touching my hands to the warm ground before the fire I looked up at my friends. "We are of all different races and all different beliefs, but we all strive for a common goal. This is not a rite of my people, but one of yours." I nodded significantly to the tauren. "Will you lead us?"

He tossed his tawny mane and grunted, the sound coming from low and deep in his chest, then nodded in agreement. He silently gestured for the rest of us to kneel in a circle around the fire. "I have already prepared the Water of the Seers," he rumbled as he began to poor the liquid into small clay cups, delivering them to each of us, then taking his place to close the circle. He began to chant slowly in Taur-ahe. When his chant was complete he poured the remaining sky blue liquid from the ceremonial pitcher into the fire. The fire burst up into bright white flames licking at the moon-filled sky. Then he nodded for us to drink. "Now be silent with your thoughts. Watch the fire or the sky. Feel the Earth. It will not be long before she speaks to us, although we may each experience it in different ways."

I turned my eyes to the earth and found there a group of ants toiling away at some project. They were carrying small pieces of grass and dirt, marching off in a straight line as if to war. I sat and watched this for a long while, my thoughts slowly changing, my mind and spirit opening to new ideas. Eventually my mind wended its way to the realization that we are just like the ants, with the Dragons and Ancients watching over us, and the Titans watching over them.  And what if there are bigger things watching over them, and bigger things watching over them, and so on... Where does it stop? What is the meaning of it? Why?

Feeling rather panicked and nearly overcome with the feeling of smallness and unimportance, I suddenly heard a deep, calming female voice telling me to be at peace. If you've ever spoken to the Stonemother, Therazane, this is what the voice sounded like, slow and deep and very peaceful, but also very powerful. I can't remember the exact words that She spoke to me, but I am very certain that I did indeed hear from the Earthmother that night. She told me that all would be well, that there is meaning to the world and the things we do, though She could not tell me more than this. She told me that the choices I have made are right and that as long as I follow my heart and soul my choices will continue to be right, at least to Her.

This is all I remember. I woke at dawn, the fire still blazing, but I was the only one there. I stretched and took a drink of water from one of my travel pouches, then doused the fire with the rest. I shifted into Storm Crow form and flew off in search of my friends.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

And then...

The white-skinned draenei sighs deeply and sinks back into her chair. The bright blue of the night elf's eyes gleam with concern as he watches her. In a softer, more resigned tone, she continues her story, "After the Exodar I didn't really know where to go. I felt literally lost. The draenei talk and talk about the Light, but none of it could bring the calm of the Light back into my life. I can't feel it anymore. There was that bright flash on that day at Light's Hope Chapel, the day we were freed from His control, but I have not felt it since. I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe the night elves have it right in their worship of Elune. Maybe their teachings could free me."

"I went to Darnassus in search of peace. I found a lot of peace, but none of it was in my heart. I talked to the priestesses. I talked to the druids. When that provided me with no answers, I went out into the wilderness outside of the city. I thought maybe being alone in the wild would allow me to feel whatever answers our world had to give me, or at least to more clearly hear my own thoughts, my own heart."

"There, wandering in the wild, hunting and fishing and simply being, there I ran into a pack of worgen. I didn't even know they were out there. I'm not exactly the most adept hunter and tracker." She chuckles darkly at her own folly, "I should have known they were there. But I didn't, and suddenly there they were. I was surrounded in the middle of the woods. I didn't even have the heart to fight them, I felt so lost. Besides, they told me they didn't mean me any harm. They blindfolded me and took me to their secret meeting place, and there they presented to me a ritual used by the worshippers of Goldrinn. I watched a very young worgen undergo the rite and so temper the bestial fury within him."

"Now, I am not, nor have I ever been, a worshipper of the demi-gods, the Ancients, just as I would never worship one of the dragon aspects, but this ritual seemed powerful. I spoke to one of their druids about myself undergoing the ritual, but the worgen didn't seem to think it would work on me, simply because I am not technically alive."

"I was furious and left in a rage of destruction, taking down several small trees and killing a hapless wild owl on my way. Why had they even brought me there if they couldn't help me? What did any of it matter if I am dead anyway? My thoughts turned dark, Torq, and I thought of turning sides, appealing to the Dark Lady to take me in. At least then I'd be among other dead. I kept to myself for some time, brooding over these ideas before I returned to the city."

"When I returned to Darnassus, as a last resort I tried talking to some of the night elf warrior women, the Sentinels. I think the Sentinels were more help than any of the others, but they couldn't understand why I wanted to rid myself of my rage. The difference is that they have something to focus that rage at, the protection of their people. Who are my people, Torq? Who am I supposed to defend? Who am I supposed to be fighting? The world itself has been torn apart, but will fighting bring it back together?" She shakes her head sadly and whispers, "I don't think so..."

He squeezes her hand gently, "You're right. Fighting doesn't often fix things..."

She frowns and removes her hand from his, slowly clenching it into a fist, "But I was created to fight. It is all I know to do."

"Maybe it is time for you to learn something new to do." He shrugs.

"You make it sound so simple." She scowls at him.

He casually digs in a pouch, pulling out a random gizmo. As he does so there is a small but very fiery and brief lived explosion. She stifles a laugh. He coughs, waving a hand to clear the smoke and gives her a wry smile as he takes a spanner to the gizmo. "It is simple, Ice. This is how I moved on with my life. This is how I am free of my rage. I have something I enjoy doing that is also beneficial and engages my mind. You need a hobby, Ice."

She looks down at her callused hands, "I am already a blacksmith. You know I patch together my own armor from what I can find."

He chuckles lightly, "Everyone knows you patch your armor together from various scraps! No offense, but you're only a middle of the road blacksmith, and you don't seem to care to improve. You've got to find something you care about."

She shrugs, "You're right. It's a useful skill, but I'll never be one of those to create ornate pieces. I may never be better than to simply patch pieces of metal together. What I make is utilitarian, beyond that I just don't care."

He looks up from his work and into her eyes with a serious expression, "What do you care about, Ice?"

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Druid Transmog #2

See my second transmogrification set for my balance/resto druid! It's very green. Kinda like the first one, but looks more.... grown up?

She's wearing:
Shoulders: Spaulders of Devastation
Chest: Ymirjar Physician's Robe
Gloves: Vicious Wyrmhide Gloves
Belt: Ley-Whelphide Belt
Weapon: Staff of the Verdant Circle

My baby druid is growing up! /sob

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Another Drink

The night elf squeezes the draenei's hand before abruptly standing, knocking his knuckles loudly on the table. He bellows, "Barkeep, something a little stronger for me and my friend!"

Looking slightly embarrassed and slightly annoyed, the draenei sinks deep in her chair, hiding her amused smile behind the now empty mug of tea. She hisses at him to sit back down.

"What, Ice? Why are you still afraid of people noticing you?" He spreads his arms wide, gesturing around the bar, "No one cares anymore. We are just another part of the world now."

A curvaceous and red-haired dwarf delivers their mugs of mead, winking at the night elf as she gathers the pot and mugs of tea. He winks back at her slyly as he settles back into his seat, and she bustles away blushing.

The draenei shakes her head, whispering, "You haven't changed a bit."

"On the contrary," he says. "I'm far more confident now than I ever was before." He clears his throat. "Not that I was lacking in confidence then." He gives her a earnest look, "You should be confident too."

She frowns, "You don't understand, Torq."

He sighs and leans back in his chair, sipping his mead, "What don't I understand, Ice? Talk to me."

She takes a deep breath, preparing herself to to tell him. "The Aldor in Shattrath... They sent me away," she begins haltingly. "I think they were afraid of me. They sent me on to the group of draenei on Azeroth, to the Exodar." She shakes her head looking glumly into the mug she hasn't touched yet, "I learned nothing more there. I didn't really expect to. The Aldor just wanted me safely out of their hair. I was so angry, so..." She pauses, searching for the right word, "...unpredictable."

"Ice, you've always been unpredictable. It's who you are."

She chuckles darkly, "Maybe, but the anger makes it worse." She takes a deep drink of the mead.

He gives her a puzzled look, "Why are you still angry?"

"She balls her fists, her entire body shaking with energy, "Exactly! I don't know!" She pounds her fists into the sturdy, dwarven-made table. "If I knew then maybe I could control it. Afterall, He is gone. There is nothing left to focus my fury at. All I am left with is this anger that won't abate. The Aldor and the draenei of the Exodar... They didn't trust me. I hardly trust myself..."

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

A Breakdown

She slowly takes a deep drink of her tea before looking back up at the night elf sitting at the table across from her. He looks at her expectantly.

She clears her throat before quietly continuing, "You know I was sent to Outland."

He nods, "We both were."

She gives him a dark look, "It was there, bathed in demon blood under a rain of hellfire, that I found out He was gone."

He shrugs, "Me too."

She stares into her now empty mug, "I didn't know what to do. My whole purpose up to that point was to work my way back to Northrend to Him, to kill Him."

He reaches his hand across and softly wraps his hand around hers holding the mug, "I know. That was my purpose too. We had been separated. I tried to look for you, but there was no trace."

She doesn't shake his touch away this time. "I didn't know what to do," she repeats.

"Where did you go, Ice? What happened?"

"First, I went to Shattrath. I spent some time there among the Aldors, among my people, trying to get my life back, trying to rediscover the Light." She does not lift her gaze to meet his, "I didn't have much luck."

"I went to Shattrath too, in search of you, but did not find you. I thought you might have gone to them but the Aldors were hesitant to give me any information."

She glances up at him, "You looked for me? Why?"

He shakes his head, "I don't know why. I was lost too, you know. I thought maybe we could help each other."

She looks back down at her mug and mutters, "You don't seem so lost now..."

He gives her a hopeful smile, "I'm not lost anymore."

She looks back up at him, "I don't know how you managed it. I've been all over Azeroth trying to find my way. I just don't know what to do anymore. My heart wasn't in the battle against Deathwing. I don't know if I even have a heart left. I just don't care about anything anymore..."

He pats her hand, "You'll find your way. And I will help if I can. It just takes time."

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

We interrupt your regularly scheduled vignette to bring you:

What is fun? The state of my game.

This week my best WoW friend asked me what I get out of the game. He doesn't understand how I can enjoy playing the way I play. I don't blame him. He's always been an end-game raider, and I used to do that with him. At some point things changed. I'm not sure why I enjoy it either, but I do. I've spent the last few weeks mining ore and maxing out my blacksmithing on Ice. I loved every minute. And now I'm working on the next grind-o-rific project - leveling archaeology.

I have become a strangely anti-social player this expansion. I have done my share of semi-hardcore raiding in the past. I got burned a few times in guilds that ended up falling apart. I have lost what I thought were friends. I just no longer have the time nor the emotional energy to put into being in a tight raiding group anymore.

I don't much care for the LFD and LFR systems. I haven't even tried Looking for Raid just because of my disillusionment with the Looking for Dungeon system. The problem isn't really the system, its the players. I once did a project in which I leveled a character purely through LFD, documenting how many bad, rude, and obnoxious people I ran into. I never published my results, but what I found was that a majority of runs were pretty normal, no problems whatsoever. What I did find was that normal dungeon runs in which no one talks to each other and you just get through it with perfect strangers that you will never see again isn't all that much fun to me. I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way either.

Despite my stories here, I don't actually role-play, but the stories my characters have to tell are vital to the enjoyment I get from the game. Azeroth is my creative escape from reality. The other key to my enjoyment is short-term goals. I never focus on a too distant goal. The amount of time I have to play just doesn't make long-term goals logical. I flit from one alt to another, working on one short project or another for brief spurts.

I admit that I haven't seen a lot of the dungeon and raid content for this expansion. I deleted max level characters and took a 6 month break from the game during the thick of the expansion. When I came back I decided it was time to start fresh. Once I had toons leveled to 85 it was now getting closer to the end of expansion, and it just doesn't make sense for me to try to look for a new guild at this point.

I do have long term goals for Mists of Pandaria, which I am extremely excited about. I do plan to try to see more dungeons and raids this next expansion, and maybe go back and do some fun runs of Cataclysm content that I missed, but I will do it on my terms the way that I enjoy. My first plan for the new expansion is to try to find a friendly casual guild that will accept my minimal and unusual play style.

What is your play style? Do you ever feel like you're playing differently than those around you? What keeps it fun for you?

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

A Reunion

She sits alone at the dingiest table in the darkest corner of the noisy tavern. She is not what you would call well-dressed, but wears a mis-matched set of what appears to be well-worn armor. The pale blue glow of her eyes casts a bluish tinge over her white-as-snow skin as she cautiously scans the room. Her mannerisms jerky, she does not appear to be completely at ease in this highly public place.

She raises an eyebrow as a tall, handsome and well-toned night elf approaches her from across the room. He walks with a slight swagger, the tools and gadgets on his belt clacking together as he moves. His eyes have the same pale blue glow as hers.

He settles himself casually into the seat across from her and without hesitation asks, "Ice, where have you been?"

Her eyes widen in shock and then narrow as she frowns, her entire body stiffening in rage. In a tense voice she whispers harshly, "Who are you and how do you know my name?!"

A deep rumbling laugh escapes him, a far cry from its former gnomish mischeviousness, "Oh! I forgot you didn't know. It's me, Torq. Who else would approach you here?" He asks as he scans the miscreants in the less than reputable tavern. "You did ask me to meet you here."

Her frown deepens, a puzzled look in her eyes, "But -"

He quickly interrupts her, "An engineering accident." He waves a hand nonchalantly as though it were nothing. "Not that I mind this new look much." He flashes her a charming grin and flexes his muscular arms.

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, unamused. "Why am I not surprised?"

His smile broadens and he pats her on the shoulder in a friendly way, "You still haven't answered my question."

She stiffens and removes her shoulder from his touch, obviously uncomfortable with the gesture. Her gaze falls to the mug of tea in front of her and she mutters, "I've been around."

Growing impatient, the night elf's smile fades. "Well, why the heck did you invite me here if you don't want to talk to me? No one has seen you in nearly four years. Not since -"

She looks sharply up from her mug, halting him as her eyes lock with his. "You're right, not since He fell..."

I am back. That hiatus was a lot longer than I initially anticipated. I hope my few readers are still with me. If you're not familiar with Icelica, her story began on my previous blog Specced for Drama. You can read her previous stories there under the heading "A Death Knight's Tale". 

Friday, May 18, 2012

I'm lost...

...somewhere between New Tristram and Caldeum.

You see, just like everyone else, I've been playing Diablo III.

I'm one of those who never played Diablo, probably because I wasn't really playing much more than Sims at the time Diablo II came out. Don't get me wrong. I don't have my head in the sand. I just never thought it would be something I would like. I had it in my head that it was a Heaven vs Hell / Good vs Evil game. Which I guess it is. But when I think of such things it reminds me of my Catholic upbringing, and I didn't want to go there.

Now, having played a bit of Diablo III, I can't believe I never tried Diablo II. This is right up my alley. I love the dark themes. The slaying of undead and demons. And Tyrael is remarkably not as holier-than-thou as I thought an angel would be. Perhaps the loss of his wings helped some.

The farthest I've gotten so far is a little ways into Act II, with a Monk named Amaranth that I am playing with my partner's Barbarian. We make a pretty awesome team.

My solo character for when he is not around is a lovely Demon Hunter named Melanthe. She's only level 9, and not yet done with Act I. I'm taking her slow because she is perhaps my prep for trying Hardcore mode. Which would have already been a failure for her, as I think she has died a few times already.

So we may be light on vignettes around here until my Diablo craze has run its course. But I will keep you posted.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Finding Sparky

The metallic smell and crackle of electricity surges through the air on the beach. Tiresya drops the imp's tiny hand and moves her head as though looking around, as if this will help her to see and understand what is happening. In an urgent whisper she says, "What's that, Zig?"

The imp responds in his casual manner, "Umm... I think I know why they call him Sparky."


"Errmm... Duck, miss."

"What? Why?"

As the sound of the electric energy grows louder the imp's voice becomes more urgent, "Just do it. Duck now!" 

She just barely ducks in time for the bolt of lightning to surge over her head. She yells, "What was that?!"

"Miss, do you still have the fish and the leash?" the imp asks calmly.

"What does that have to do with anything?! What is attacking us?" 

"Errrr, Sparky is."

"What? How is a cat casting electrical energy?"

"Umm..." He pauses in thought, "Static electricity?"

She sighs, exasperated with the situation. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Just set the fish in front of you on the ground and back away, just enough distance to lasso him with the leash. I'll give you the signal when he's at the fish."

She does as he asks, and as she waits for the signal she hears a strange noise.


"What... was... that?"

"Errrr, I think that was a meow, Tir. I don't think this is a very healthy cat. Maybe hasn't eaten in a while?"

"Is he going for the fish?"

"Yes! Now! Get him!"

She winds up and manages, either through luck or magic, to snare the creature perfectly. As the leash encircles the creature's neck it instantly calms and walks closer to the undead woman. She kneels and reaches a hand out to pet it.

"Umm... Miss, I wouldn't do that. He doesn't sound well. I don't want you to get sick."

She nods and backs away.

The murloc slurps up the fish and lets out a contented sound, "Mrrrrhhhllll."

The imp smiles and grabs the woman's hand, "Let's get him back to the man at the inn."

She frowns, considering the noises she has heard. "It doesn't really sound like a cat, but I can't quite place what that noise is, although I feel as though I have heard it before..." she thinks aloud.

The imp squeezes her hand. "It's just a sick cat, Tir. Let's get him home so he can get better."

Saturday, May 5, 2012

April 2012 Search Terms

Azerothian Vignettes -
*Bells and whistles* *Balloons and confetti* Why, yes, this is. You found it. You've come to the right place.
 Does Jaina die in Mists of Pandaria? -
I don't have the answer to this one, but I did speculate early after that first huge information dump. I'd like to think that Blizzard wouldn't kill off one of the few truly strong female characters in the game, but... only time will tell.
 Falling in the water with waders -
I can only assume that this search brought you to my post about fishing. I'm guessing this wasn't what you were looking for, as last I checked Ama was not prone to falling into the water she is fishing in. She's an agile Night Elf, for goodness sake!
 her movements and -
I'm not sure what you were expecting to get with this one, and I have no idea how it landed you here. Perhaps it is related to my little spoof on the song, "Moves like Jagger?" 
Stupid rat -
Again, no idea on this one. I don't think I've written a thing about rats. I did, however, write a little blurb about another type of rodent. Although I doubt it will help.

All in all not a bad turnout for such a new blog. Although I doubt very few of these searchers found any help here. Mine is a playful blog for silly stories and fun, not really meant for those seeking information.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

My First Transmogrification

We interrupt your regularly scheduled vignette to bring breaking transmogrification news!

I have created my very first transmog set for my primary character, Amaranthine. It is missing matching shoulders and belt, and it isn't the set I really wanted, but it is a step in the right direction.

She's wearing: Gypsy Tunic, Gypsy Trousers, Vindicator's Leather Moccasins, Ravager Hide Gloves, and Ogre Mage Staff.

Any suggestions on how to fill in the missing belt and shoulders would be greatly appreciated, as I am just running with them un-transmogged at this point. I've been scanning through gear lists, and so far have my eyes on the Spaulders of Reclamation for the shoulders, but that means running through Sunwell Plateau, and well, I'm just not sure I'm that lucky. Not to mention they are rather a bit showy for this simple outfit. My few readers, please tell me, what do you think?

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Motivation returned

"Come on, Miss!" the high pitched voice of the imp calls.

"But I don't feel like going anywhere. I'm too sad," the undead woman sulks, causing her already unpleasant face to sag even further.

"Tiresya, there's a war going on out there. We can't just sit here or the enemy will win. You are a powerful caster, much like myself. You are needed."

"I'd rather just die. Everyone I love is already dead."

"Come on. You don't really mean that!" The imp settles a tiny hand on her shoulder in an attempt at comforting her. "This is an opportunity, Tiresya. Think of all the, ermm, good you can do in helping to push back the, uhh, Forsaken. You could avenge the deaths of your loved ones!" At this last lie, the imp can't resist releasing a tiny chuckle.

Lost in her own thoughts, the laugh goes unnoticed. She slowly nods her head in agreement.

The imp continues, "Besides, the fellow upstairs has given us a special task, to retrieve his lost pet, Sparky."

A slight smile passes over the woman's waxen lips, "Ohhh, what kind of pet is Sparky? A dog or cat?"

"Umm, I'm not sure, but the gentleman did say he is fond of fish."

"Ohh, then it much be a cat. I do like cats."

"Well then, come on, girl! Let's go!" The imp grabs her hand and tugs gently.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

A lovely day for a waltz through the minefield

The night elf is obviously not in good shape. Her hair is blackened on the ends and smoking, and she is covered in soot. She limps up to the goblin and throws a dented and soot smudged toolbox at his feet. "Here's your damn toolbox, Jeer! And if you happen to leave it in a minefield again, don't look at me to go get it!"

The goblin shrugs and mutters his thanks. 

"By the way," she frowns at him, "You really should have warned me not to fly in. It's going to be a while before I'm able to transform into my storm crow form again, thanks to you!" She rubs her sore arms, which are scraped and bruised, but no where near as bad as if they were her wings.

"Hey, doll, I didn't tell you to fly in. I said you should try to follow the path I took to get out!"

"Who sets up turrets to protect a minefield? What the heck is that minefield protecting anyway? There doesn't seem to be anything over there."

The goblin shrugs again, rummaging through his recovered tools to ensure they are all there, "You know, important stuff."

She sighs and half stomps, half limps away, disgusted.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012


I was just going to the Bough of Eternals bank in Darnassus to deposit some of my new and more valuable archaelogical finds, when I saw something rather unusual. There was this adorable squirrel trying in vain to get the attention of one of the bankers. He was chattering and scampering from foot to foot, trying to leap high enough to attract attention.

Now I have no idea what the fellow wanted, or how he expected to communicate with said banker, but I flagged the banker down nonetheless and went about my business. I suppose it's entirely possible that he had left his cache of nuts at the bank, after all it is in a tree. Or maybe he had come for help, having been polymorphed into a squirrel by a mad magician.

I may never know, as I couldn't bear to stick around, for I was struggling to control a fit of laughter. I quickly shapeshifted into my storm crow form and flew away, cackling to my hearts content.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

A first meeting

A loud groan emanates from the freshly dug grave. Slowly a young woman's pale and dirty face appears as she sits up. She is obviously no longer alive, her skin sags unnaturally away from her bones, her hair is dirty and disheveled, and her eyes are missing. A high pitched nasally voice greets her. "Hey, miss. You ok?" says the imp.

"Ughh," she says as she stretches her arms and then attempts to rub her eyes in order to restore her sight. She lets out a shriek as she discovers her eyes are missing. "My eyes! I'm blind!"

"It's ok, miss. I'm here. I'll help you," the imp replies patiently.

She stretches her arms out waving them in front of her. "Where are you? Who are you?" Her hands swish through the air passing over the imp's head as he bows elegantly before her, apparently forgetting that she can't see him.

"Zigyal, at your service, miss. You can call me Ziggy." He stretches a tiny hand out to meet hers and shakes it in greeting.

"Oh!" She gasps, "Your hands are so small!"

"Errrm, right. Uhh, I'm, ahhh - a gnome afterall." The imp nods and smiles, proud of his lie.

"Pleased to meet you, Ziggy. Umm... Do you have any idea what has happened? Last I remember I was sending fireballs towards a Forsaken ship, then there was a huge explosion...." She reaches out to grab for him, but he ducks away from her, and she waves her hands frantically in search of her new friend. "Oh! Please tell me my mother and father are ok?! Please!"

"Calm down, miss. We'll get this sorted out. I promise."

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

It's Scandalous!

She wipes a bead of sweat from her brow, inadvertently smudging her face with dirt, and continues digging, muttering to herself, "There's just got to be something here!" She stands up and backs off, dusting the dirt from her britches and surveys the area once more. "Yep! Definitely something here," she says over her shoulder to her partner and goes back to the dig.

Her partner saunters up and looks over her shoulder, "Looks like it might be one of those famous 'Scandalous Silk Nightgowns' so often found here. Eldre'thar is well known for them."

She peers up at her partner, eyes wide, "You really think it might be one? Oh! I hope I can get it out without damaging it."

Her partner chuckles and wanders off to his own dig site.

Hours later, as the sun is setting over the mountains her partner makes his way back to her, startled to find her crying over a strewn mess of dirty and tattered cloth. "What happened?" he asks.

"Oh! It fell to shreds when I finally managed to release it. Now I'll never know what made the garment so scandalous!"

"Maybe that's why it is in shreds." He winks slyly at her.

Edit: I really wish this was a wearable item, even if still gray. Then again, I imagine our lovely ESRB rating might have to be changed if it was wearable. Lord only knows what the Night Elves would find scandalous!

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Blog Azeroth Shared Topic: Rats and Turtles and Pinchy, Oh My!

StringTheory of Perish Twice has submitted this week's Blog Azeroth Shared Topic as follows:
(See other bloggers take on this topic here)
Fishing is an odd sort of minigame in WoW and people I've talked to either love it or hate it. So what's your take on the most grindy of sports?
If you love it: Why? Where's your favorite spot to go drop a line and veg while waiting for a strike?
If not: Why not? What would make it more fun? Or is there a way to make fishing fun?
And lastly, for those of you with hard-won turtles and rats and lobsters 'o doom—show 'em off!  (Because I'm proud of my stupid rat and darned if I'm not going to sneak my own screenshot in.)
This has prompted the following vignette:

There's nothing like fishing. Pulling on my waders and relaxing in the great outdoors, listening to the water lap against the shore, waiting for the excitement of that first nibble.

I think part of the reason I enjoy fishing so much is because it gives me a chance to unwind from the battles of the day. This is the same reason I like picking herbs and archaeological digs.

The one thing I dislike most about fishing is the bait. I hate spearing poor wriggling worms onto the hook. That's why I was so excited to find a Bone Fishing Pole in a Bag of Shiny Things. It may be a little creepy using a rod made of bones, but it comes with an unlimited supply of phantom worms pre-hooked. The fish seem to like it just as well as real bait, maybe even better.

Another one of the other reasons I enjoy fishing so much is because I love to eat fish, all kinds of fish. I'd go so far as to say it is my favorite kind of food, from Bristlewhisker Catfish to Golden Fishsticks. I like it all.

Mmmm... On that note, I'm off fishing. I'm hungry!

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Big Bear Butt's Writing Challenge

Big Bear Butt has given us a challenge as follows:

I have a little creative writing challenge for you… purely for fun.

My challenge is simple.

Write a short story. I don’t care how short, or what kind of story, or even what form your story takes. BUT… your story, poem, dirty limerick or whatever you choose to do must incorporate within it in some way the following words;

  1. juicy
  2. slender
  3. vain
  4. shaft
  5. torch
  6. star
  7. hidden

Here is my offering:

It had been many years since she had visited this hidden grotto, her personal place to worship the goddess. She needed no torch to guide her in this dark place. Many years of visits had ingrained the details into her mind. Though now a druid in training, this former priestess had never forgotten her first calling. Now wearing her old but well preserved mooncloth robes, as though it was only yesterday that she had been expelled from the Temple.

It was after the Sundering, after the previous cataclysm, that she had been removed from the priesthood. Prior, priests of Elune had been able to cast arcane spells with the goddess' blessing. With the corruption of Lady Azshara and all that came with her lust for arcane power, use of these spells became taboo, and eventually were forbidden to the priests.

This priestess' favorite spell had been the one known as Star Shards, dropping bits of starlight down from the heavens to harm her enemies. She refused to stop using her arcane spells, and so she was stripped from the priesthood, but she never stopped worshipping Elune. Thankfully the druids were more tolerant and took her in.

She moves slowly and sensually, slender pale purple arms swaying rhythmically as she casts her spell, summoning a shaft of moonlight, the gift of Elune, purifying the area. The beauty of her movements and her dress, the pale blue of her robes accentuating the glow of her eyes, she knew would please the goddess, though she is not vain. She kneels and places her sacrifice on the altar, a bowl of juicy moonberries, and begins her prayer. She comes seeking guidance in her missionary work in the land once known as Draenor. Though the battle against the Legion in that world has been won, still it's corruption washes over the land.

The goddess is pleased by her offering and grants her strength in her mission to quell such corruption, her skin briefly glowing with blue-white light as Elune's blessing washes over her. She bows her head in silent thanks.

Monday, March 19, 2012

The sky is falling! Jaina's gonna die!

We interrupt your regularly scheduled vignette to bring you: OMG! Mists of Pandaria! Garrosh! WTFBBQ!11111

So full lore theory speculation incoming! If you don't want "spoilers" then "Run away, little girl, run away!"

Per the press release posted on MMO-Champions: "The war between the Alliance and Horde heats up as they roll into Pandaria, and it will serve as a major battleground, but things get so gnarly and out of control, and war crimes are committed by one side, it begins to spiral into crazyville. The final patch of Mists of Pandaria will be the Siege of Orgrimmar! Both factions, for various reasons, lay siege to the city to bring Garrosh down and end his reign of Warchief."

Like everyone else, I'm reeling from this news. What could Garrosh possibly do to turn his own faction against him? There has been some speculation. Rades has put forth some fascinating ideas that include the return of Anub-arak at Orcish Army Knife.

After much thought and conversation between myself and my partner in WoW-crime, we've come to a conclusion. What we believe can be the only conclusion.

Jaina's gonna die. What could possibly motivate the Horde (orcs included) to remove the mantle of Warchief from him? Garrosh kills Jaina after the sack of Theramore. Only Thrall could rally the orcs to move against their leader, and Thrall would not sit idle as one of his good friends is killed.

I'm less than pleased by this theory, and I'm praying to the Old Gods that it might not be so. But all signs point to this end. It just makes sense.

My only hope now is that she goes out in a blaze of fabulous magic glory, as she truly deserves.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

I'm going to Outlands!

I just ran away from home
I'm going to Out-lands
I just picked some herbs again
I'm going to Out-lands

I just robbed a goblin vendor
I'm going to Out-lands
And I just flipped off Varian Wrynn
I'm going to Out-lands!

It was terrifying, but awesome!

Edit: Apparently there is a large group of people who are not familiar with the dada song parodied in this post. Please let me know if you remember the song, or if for some reason it was only popular in the Midwest in the early 90s.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

The Sneezy Dwarf and the Burnwine

"Yer-choo!" comes from what you had first mistaken as a pile of furs piled high on a chair near the fireplace. As you gaze at it you are slowly able to discern a black beard and mustache now covered with snot. A muscular but stubby hand emerges from the furs and wipes at the facial hair.

"What ye dever see a dwarf with a cold before? Ye see dorbally I keeps beh beard ad boustaches ibbaculate, but sidce I got this here cold it had't beed so easy."

The hand returns to the folds of the furs and the entire pile shudders. "Dod't ye laugh! I got a chill!"

The apparently ill dwarf continues to mutter, "I'd be well by dow if it wasd't for the bloody goblid what called hisself a doctor! Shady goblids! Listed to yer elder, dod't ever trust a goblid what calls hisself a doctor. Fer that batter dod't ever trust a goblid period!"

At this point his angry mumblings become rather incoherent but you can make out a few words here and there which include "goblid jubper cables" and "ad I had't eved stopped breathigg!" 

The hand shoots out of the furs again and waves frantically and the dwarf yells, "Bahh! Dow I cure behself with a real dwarved cure! Bartedder! Bartedder! Brigg beh yer stroggest ale, ad bake it a double!"

The bartender rushes two small cups to the dwarf. As the dwarf grabs the first cup he says, "Bahh! That's all? I was expectigg subthigg a little bigger. Ah well, bottobs up!"

The bartender shrugs and walks away as the dwarf downs the first cup in one gulp, then sighs deeply before drinking the other down just as quick. Then he leans back and emits a massive belch and a puff of smoke.

The dwarf gasps and asks, "What was that?"

The bartender nonchalantly replies, "Caraway Burnwine, shipped special from Dalaran."

"Well if that did't burd up all the buggers id beh belly bakin be sick, well thed I dod't have ady idea what will!"

As you turn to leave you hear the dwarf whisper to the bartender, "Cad I get the dabe of yer codtact id Dalarad?"

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

With them spells like Jaina

As you come around the corner to the hall in the apprentice's quarters, you hear a high pitched, and slightly out of tune voice singing: 

Make it with a wand
and I'm castin'
Power from beyond
and I'm blastin'

All the spells like Jaina!
I've got the moves like Jaina!
Oooo, I've got spells like Jaina!

Peaking in the door you see a pale gawky human, in the bright purple robes of a beginner, dancing awkwardly on her bed and singing.

Don't even try 
to counterspell me.
I am the princess 
of wizardry.

With them moves like Jaina!
I've got the spells like Jaina!
Oooo, I've got moves like Jaina!

She gasps and hides behind the curtains of her four-poster bed, as she sees you watching her.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

In which the moonkin hatchling "helps"

"Oh no!" the druid shouts as two wolves circle round to attack her while she busily tries to contend with her current enemy, one very large and angry kodo. Feathered arms wave quickly casting thorns and barkskin on herself, she glares down at the tiny moonkin hatchling at her feet, her mini-me if you will.

"You know, you could be helping!" she grumbles, as she goes on to pin one of the wolves with an entangling roots spell.

The kodo goes down with a mammoth groan, and the druid finishes off the wolves with a couple more casts of nature's wrath.

She shifts back into her normal elven form and after checking herself over for serious wounds and wiping the sweat from her brow, she glances again to the moonkin, only to find it has cast the one spell it knows in an effort to help, a tiny yellow flower coming up from the ground at it's feet. She can't help but chuckle and pat the little creature on the head, as it looks up at her for approval with huge moonkin eyes.