Goodbye and Hello

I've moved all my Blackhand realm Horde toons to Earthen Ring to join the esteemed Alea Iacta Est guild, of The Instance podcast fame.  Sapphos, Zulvash, Vakash, and Rosebloom (damn you, Rosepetal of Earthen Ring!)

Rhetta didn't make the jump.  Having another Warlock already over there, with a compelling and versatile backstory already established, with nothing interesting going on in Rhetta's life, the choice was pretty clear which one would be let go...

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Rhetta lay on the path, staring upwards at the clear Arathi skies. The sun was falling low in the west, casting a dreamy, reddish glow over her surroundings. She could make out two faint stars twinkling above, harbingers of the night, coming to challenge the sun for the rule of the heavens.

A tortured scream from nearby, signaling someone's demise, brought a wisp of a smile to her face. She turned her head slowly to see her Succubus limping towards her. "You've looked better," the Demon purred as it knelt over her, trying not to allow it's own injuries to show.

Rhetta's body was ruined, even by a Forsaken's standards. One arm was nearly severed, held on mostly by the threads of her robes. Other gaping wounds riddled her body, blood flowing out of her and soaking into the cold ground beneath her. "I'm very tired," she managed to say.

The Succubus began to preen a tattered wing. "A little bit of resurrection, and we'll be back to making sweet, sweet pain together." It grew excited at the thought.

Rhetta turned to face the feeble stars again. "I... don't want... to come back...." The Demon stopped her preening and leaned over her body to meet her eyes. A tear trickled from Rhetta, clouding her already failing vision.

The Succubus, after a moment's pause, gingerly swung a hooved leg over Rhetta to straddle her legs, and slowly lifted her to a sitting position. The Demon tilted it's own head down and pressed it's lips to Rhetta's, it's fangs gently biting into hers. Rhetta closed her eyes as a soothing wave flowed through her, bringing the tranquility that comes from a final surrender.

Warlock and Succubus then slowly faded from the world, and with a sound like a small chime, left only two shards to lay twinkling on the blood-soaked earth.

Fendryys - Part 4

“Well done!” a man’s voice behind her applauded. Fendryys turned defensively, sword pointed at the newcomer. He sat perched atop the stump she had been hiding behind just moments before, his long hair partially shadowing his face. Fendryys saw him inspecting her mechanical squirrel, perched in his hands.

“Well done indeed! You possess a sort of... natural skill not often found in so young a warrior.” He looked directly at her and not his footing as he nimbly hopped down from is perch. “I have not seen such focus and grace in even the finest of performing dancers, and yet I saw you improvise it well on this impromptu stage. And can I say that this,” his attention turning back to the squirrel in his outstretched hand, “this is extraordinary work! Did yo craft this yourself?”

Fendryys’ felt her face flush from all the adulation from the stranger. Her stance relaxed substantially, though her sword remained between her and the man. “I saw several demonstrated at the Faire a while back, and I decided to craft my own.”

“Really?” The stranger was obviously impressed. “This is your own design, based solely from observation? It’s much more intricate than any I’ve seen before.”

Fendryys lowered her weapon, feeling surprisingly at ease around this appreciative stranger. “May I ask, who are you? And what business brings you into the forest at this hour?”

The man looked to her again and smiled. “I was tracking that group of kobolds myself, nasty pilfering vermin that they are, and was about to make my move when you appeared!” The man stepped forward, and held out the clockwork squirrel in his right hand for Fendryys to take. “My name is Garrick.”

As she took the squirrel from his hand Fendryys saw, even in the meager light of the moon, a clear tattoo of an intricate clockwork cog. She instantly stepped back and aimed her sword at him again. “You’re Defias!” she spat.

Garrick’s faced hardened slightly at her vehemence, and he lowered his hand. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But I can assure you, the Brotherhood is not your enemy.”

“Your ‘Brotherhood’ is the enemy, to Stormwind and to the Crown!”

“And why would you think that?”

“You’ve taken over lands that don’t belong to you! You’ve plundered storehouses, stolen crops out of the fields, waylaid caravans! Your thievery from the citizens and Nobles of Stormwind makes you our enemy!”

“It is those very citizens and Nobles that you speak of that have stolen from us!” Garrick grew more animated. “We worked to rebuild your precious Stormwind after the Wars, slaving away to remake our home. Then the ruling class that fled during the Wars returned, and upon seeing the City revived, coveted it and took it for thier own, casting us out. We demanded payment for our work, and what did they give us? They turned thier guardsmen on us! We had given all, and we were left to stare at what should have been ours!”

Fendryys stood blinking, taking in what Garrick had said. She pondered his words, and how much they matched her own feelings.

In that pause they both heard sounds of movement through the forest, the voices of multiple kobolds approaching. Garrick looked to Fendryys. “Perhaps they search for thier beloved Candle-Lord?”

“It sounds like quite the number.” Fendryys prepared herself for another fight.

Garrick clasped his free hand on her shoulder, and pressed the mechanical squirrel into hers. “No need to bother with them. I know of a place to hide. Follow me!” he said, already moving into the night, away from the approaching vermin. Fendryys stood her ground for a moment, then decided she had no choice but to follow.

Fendryys - Part 3

Running through the cool night air had helped to clear her head. Fendryys jogged to a halt and sat down against an old, craggy stump. She sighed and wiped her brow, dragging sodden stray hairs from her face. “What do I do now?” she spoke aloud to herself. She cursed herself for her childishness. Throwing a tantrum and running away wasn’t the way she normally acted. She sighed again.

Fendryys reached into her pocket and pulled out a small clockwork device. Twisting a couple knobs on it’s side, it sprang to life in the palm of her hand. Unfolding, it formed the shape of a small squirrel, and as it’s gears softly whirred it began to move and preen itself as though it were a living thing. “What do I do now, my little pet?” she asked again, this time to the mechanical squirrel. The clockwork didn’t respond, nor did she expect it to.

She heard a rustling through the forest behind her, and as reflex she turned about, crouching and peering around the old stump. Through the gloom she saw a small band of kobolds making their way through the forest. Iconic candles mounted on helmets or strapped to foreheads, they appeared to be a hunting party of some sort. Fendryys’ hand reached to her waist, and she cursed herself when her grasp came up empty. Her sword at home, forgotten in her heated rush into the night, she reached down into her boot and pulled out a small dirk.

Normally the kobolds that lived near her home were a more passive sort, but these hideous creatures, foraging at this late hour were likely of the braver and more violent variety that lived to the south. Fendryys knew, as they seemed to approach her very hiding spot, that the vermin would not take kindly to a surprise in the dark.

She pressed her body as close to the shadow of the stump as she could, not in the mood for any confrontation. She’d faced the occasional rogue kobold with proper weapons in hand, but not an organized group in the middle of the night, with little more defense than a crude knife.

They approached her hiding place, making their crude snuffling noises. Fendryys thought they might actually pass her by, but then she saw her forgotten squirrel on the exposed ground, it’s mechanisms glinting in the meager moonlight as it whirred and preened itself. She tried to grab at it quickly enough to not be seen, but she froze as she saw the kobolds discover her movement. Four sets of eyes blinked in surprise for a moment, which she instinctually turned to her advantage.

Fendryys lunged forward, setting upon the largest of the group first. One arm plunged the dirk into the creature's chest, knocking it backwards to the ground. In the same motion she snatched up the kobold’s crude sword in her other hand as she vaulted over it’s dying body, landing beyond it facing the other three, a weapon bared in each hand. “You kill Candle-lord!” one of the kobolds cried out in their broken tongue, and the three lunged forward at their assailant.

Fendryys’ sword parried a swing from the leftmost creature as the dagger plunged into the striking arm of the rightmost one, causing it to howl in agony, dropping it’s own weapon. Dodging aside the third’s attack, she whirled about and plunged the sword into the creature’s throat.

Springing past the falling body she faced again the remaining two. The first one was closer than she expected, but she parried several attacks before running the creature through. The final one began to run away, and Fendryys threw the dirk after it. The blade buried itself into the kobold’s back, and the creature fell dead into a pile of brush.

Fendryys - Part 2

Fendryys brushed her auburn fair back from her face and sighed, staring down at the bowl of bland porridge on the table before her. Her father heard her and glowered; without looking she could feel his eyes boring into her. “Eat” was her father’s simple command.

“I thought you had said we’d have something fresh for tonight,” Fendryys said.

“It is fresh, and it’s good for you, so eat.”

She sighed again. “Some meat, or some cheese, or a fruit! Not freshly prepared gruel from a sack of meal a month old!”

Jareth’s fist slammed down on the table. “Enough! We can’t afford more, and you know it!” He let his anger rest a moment. “It’s every day with you, isn’t it? Wishing for more than we have.”

“But you keep promising we’ll have more! That things will get better for us!”

“They are better! They’re scores better than they have been in a long time! Since the wars...”

Fendryys knew where this speech was going, having heard it untold times, and decided she would not listen to it again. “The wars are long over, Father! They are long gone, and I don’t need to hear of them any more!” She stood, her anger and her resolve to finally speak her mind fully was rising. “You’ve given so much to this nation - our family has given so much, and how do the nobles reward our sacrifice? With this meager home we had to build ourselves from mud and straw, in a backwater hamlet with nothing to eat but this stale gruel meal after meal! While your “promotion” was to stand guard over the very vineyards that supply those nobles’ merriment and excess! You have given all, and then we are left to stare at what should be ours!”

Jareth burst up from his seat, grabbed and shook her violently. “You speak like those damnable Defias traitors! Are you one of them? Has my daughter fallen to that despicable lot?” He clutched her right wrist and inspected her hand. “The day I find you with a cog on your hand is the day my daughter is dead to me!”

Fendryys cuffed him across the face. Her father released her, and she spun about, running from their home and out into the dark night.

Absolute Non(Ad)Sense

I've just added Google's AdSense advertisements to this blog. Why, someone may ask? Why not? I respond. If they get clicked by anyone who reads this blog, I get money, and is they don't get clicked on, no big deal.

Though my agreement with AdSense comes with some caveats. I'm not allowed to tell anyone to "click the ads" to "support me". But it would be nice if they were clicked out of genuine interest in the products...

I also can't have pornography, adult content, violent content, excessive profanity, and more. Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts.

So, does this mean I've sold my soul to The Man? I don't think so. More like, when The Man takes my money, I know I have a shot at getting a little of it back.

Fendryys - Part 1

“Get back up and face me, girl! Or am I to think you’re dead?”

Fendryys lay on the ground for a moment, eyes closed and mildly dazed, letting the earth cool her tired muscles. After a few more jibes from her opponent she pushed herself up to sit on her knees, wiping dirt and sweat off her face while retrieving her sword with the other.

“A-ha! She lives!” The man laughed heartily.

Fendryys stood and faced him. “Perhaps I live as one of the undead.” She stared at the man defiantly.

The humor instantly dropped from his weathered face, and his eyes grew cold as he extended his sword arm and pointed the weapon’s tip at her. “You know better-” His words cut off as Fendryys whirled her own weapon around to disarm him. The attempt failed, but only just, the man barely keeping hold of his sword as he staggered backwards.

Fendryys quickly lashed out with several more strikes which the man somehow managed to parry, still off his center. Finally with a yell she swung her sword again and stopped it against the man’s throat as his own sword licked up, the point pressing against her midsection, their motion ending as both their free hands clutched at each other’s clothing, locking them together.

“You know better than to make light of the undead,” the man finished, eyes fixed to hers.

“And you had known better than to strike your own daughter to the ground so dishonorably, when we’re only sparring!” her eyes matching his in every detail.

Her father held his gaze for a moment, then relaxed his grip on her clothing. A truce settled, and they stepped back from one another. “I expect you to guard your whole person against attack. And I expect you to follow a code of honor when fighting; however, you can never assume your opponent will hold to the same.” He allowed himself to chuckle. “If your opponent were so honorable and proper, your disagreement could be settled without steel.”

Fendryys rubbed her head where he had struck her before, feeling the knot already forming. “Good thing you weren’t coming at me with steel,” she said, glancing down at their wooden practice swords.

Jareth laughed and clapped his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Perhaps I did carry it a bit far! Enough for today, then. Let’s head in to supper, shall we?” He collected her weapon and rested both over his shoulder as he led them towards home.

Alt-Aholics (Un)Anonymous

I might as well introduce any readers to my plethora of alts in World of Warcraft.  Drink a Jolt or two... this could take a while.

On the Blackhand PvE server:

Alliance toons in the guild Thunder and Lightning, headed by the esteemed fisherman and skier Pistol.  Horde toons under the banner of Interlude (though they might jump ship for AIE on Earthen Ring!).

Fendryys: level 70 Human Arms Warrior.  This was my first toon, and my first to ding 70.  I love running her around on dailies, though she's gathered some dust as of late, my newer alts have taken the bulk of my time.  Backstory in 10 words or less: Chafed at authority, joined Defias, got screwed over, now wanders.

Shavara: level 70 Night Elf Beast-Mastery Hunter.  My second toon, perhaps my favorite toon, I love pet classes!  Backstory: Tried Druidism, failed, Cat Spirit visits.  Finds Mittens, now happy.

Rosepetal: level 62 Tauren Feral Druid.  My first healing-capable toon; I rather like self buffs and HoTs!  Also, my first experience with combo points.  It took me forever to get the hang of it, nearly gave up on her, but now it's Kitty DPS all the way, baby!  Backstory: Feels ugly, cuts herself, hides herself in animal forms.  Lonely.  (These are harder than they look, kids!)

Sapphos: level 52 Blood Elf Arcane Mage.  My first real caster, I'm finally getting the hang of blowing things up from afar.  I keep wanting to sneak around and attack up close, but Mages are all about a wide swath of scorched earth.  Backstory: Scourge came, survived, hid four years.  Haunting memories follow.  Lesbian.  (Wikipedia "Sappho", kids!)

Rhetta: level 33 Undead Demonology Warlock.  After playing Shavara for a while, I had the epiphany: there's another pet Class in this game!  So I rolled this Warlock, and I love the Voidwalker as a tank.  And the more DoTs the merrier - more DoTs than a little girls Easter dress!  Backstory: Turned by Scourge, hates it.  Uses Demons against Demon users!

Vakash: level 34 Orc Enhancement Shaman.  Caster pulls, melee DPS with shocks, and heals!  And a travel form!  I love this class.  Backstory: Loves Thrall from afar.  Obsessed with Thrall.  Worships Thrall!  Thrall!  (BTW, she likes Thrall.)

Avuur: level 35 Draenei Retribution Paladin.  It took me until about 30 to warm up to this class, now I'm hauling ass grinding quests and loving it.  Backstory... was complete, until I saw I had some lore wrong, now I've got to readjust.  (Damn you Ret-Cons!)

Zulvash: level 34 Troll Shadow Priest.  Though can you really call them Shadow Priests before they get Shadowform?  I mean really, that's the coolest thing about that tree.  Working on the backstory yet, tossing around the idea of dual-personalities, and the conflict between the holy light and the shadow.

Saxxle: level 30 Gnome Rogue.  Haven't settled on a spec yet, nothing's really clicking with me.  Though being a sneaky bastard is fun.  Maybe I secretly don't like Gnomes.  Backstory... I've just decided is crap, and I'm gonna rework it.

Fendryyx: soon-to-be level 55 Human Death Knight.  Being held currently by a level 6 placeholder Warrior.  Can't wait until Lich King!  Backstory: Fendryys becomes Scourge.  Death, blight: natural way.  Trains, leaves King.  (No kidding!  10 words is real tough!)

On the Zul'Jin PvE server:

Bludlime: level 23 Tauren Beast Mastery Hunter.  Love Hunters!  I made this toon just to send Bludlemon, one of the WoW Comics submitters, a message saying how much I loved the cartoons, but now I've been invited into Bludlemon's guild Doomed Kitties, and I'm stuck loving leveling another Hunter!  Backstory: You're kidding, right?  This is a flippant fan toon only.  (Hehehe, 10 words!)

On the Earthen Ring RP server:

Ravísh: level 27 Blood Elf Demonology Warlock.  Get the idea that I love pet classes?  My first foray into an RP server, and a proud member of the esteemed Alea Iacta Est guild!  Backstory: Scourged, didn't die: coma.  Awakens, hears Whispers from Void.  Spunky.

Listless: level 1ish Undead Rogue.  Under level 10 you don't get to claim a spec.  This toon is an RP experiment: to travel the worlds, discover every sub-zone (WotLK Achievements... Hoooo!), searching....  Backstory: Awoke, no memory.  Wanders, searching for past.  Enigmatic cat follows.

Bookworm: level 6ish Undead Priest.  Bank alt of sorts for the AIE guild.  Send any recipes you can spare to her for distribution to other guildies.  Backstory: Arose in library, reads everything.  Lovingly teaching knowledge to others.

Hello, my name is (all the above), and I'm an Alt-aholic.  Admitting it is the first step towards recovery, right?  Though if I'm enjoying it so much, why would I want to quit?

You'll notice I've at least one of every Class, and one of every Race (except Dwarves - ugly bastards all!).  One common thread to all of these is the desire to experience everything available to the solo player (though I'll help a fellow guildie with most anything!).  There's so much in the game to check out and explore!

More Backstory fun, and more ponderation on the scourge of Alt-Aholism, to follow...

Inaugural Dropping

So, here it is.

I've entered the world of Internet Blogging.  Being the last person to enter, I'll close the door behind me so as not to let out the cat.

I'm birthing this unholy monstrosity as an online diary.  Whether or not this chimeric abomination of a blog is set ablaze by the local villagers or not remains to be seen.

I often have random thoughts and musings, and sometimes I'd like to share them.  As of this writing, no one knows about this blog, because I haven't told anyone yet.  So in a way I'm talking to myself right now.  I like talking to myself.  I listen well to me, and I care about what I have to say.

This'll also be a repository of any Fan Fiction I decide to write.  I've some fun ideas about what should happen in The Buffyverse (all hail my Overlord Joss).  I'm also steeped in World of WarCraft lore, and will post my characters' RP backstories (there will be many, alt-aholic that I am).

So read 'em and weep.  But weep not for me - weep for the Internet, for I cometh to clog the tubes.