Things That Have Changed

Since 4.0, and my four month break from WoW in general, I’ve noticed something.

Tanking isn’t something I want to do anymore.  At all.

This threw me off when I was first messing around with 4.0 on my Warrior.  Now, my Warrior was my only level-capped character in the Burning Crusade, and he was a tank throughout.  It was some of the best times I’ve had in WoW.  But right now, Arms (always a close second to Prot back then) has taken a lead in my favor.  It’s just so much more interesting to play than it always used to be for me.  What changed?  I really don’t know.

Also, on my Death Knight, I’ve decided against going back to playing Unholy.  Now, I play Frost whenever I do play on my Death Knight.  Between that, the tanking changes, and pretty much the class changes in general, WoW is a lot fresher for me.  Except for the fact that I still can’t enjoy anything except Enhancement on my Shaman.  That’s nothing new.

If all goes well (i.e. I remember about the blog), I’ll continue to update with some of the stuff I’m doing.

Veneritio, Farewell

Recently, Veneritio of www.tankingtips.com fame has quit WoW.  You may not really care about this, but it shocked me a bit when I found out, and I felt that this merited a blog post.  Tanking Tips was one of the first WoW-based blogs I read.  These blogs eventually got me into Elitist Jerks by making me care about how I played.

Veneritio has been one of the most influential people for me in my WoW career, and I’m glad he did what he did for so long.  I’m sad he’s leaving WoW, but there’s not much you can do with time constraints.  RL > WoW.

Later, Vene.

Another Decade Gone By…

Another decade of life on this water-covered planet has passed by. Millions of lives have entered the world, and millions have left. Tears have been shed, outrage has been expressed. Things nobody thought would happen have come to pass, and everyone has had three thousand, six hundred fifty days of experience in their life. Shocking events that people would wish had never happened have occurred. Global warming is now being targeted as a threat by more people than ever before. The war in Afghanistan rages on, and the world is becoming a haven of technology. Humans are forgetting basic parts of survival, like self-control. People have become targets of hatred, due to their actions.

Life goes on, an (effectively) endless circle. Millions of years have past, and so millions will come.

Life expectancy is increasing, technology is advancing, civilization covers the land, for better or for worse.

Everyone has learned much in this decade, from practice, word of mouth, or by reading it. Theories have been broken, theories have been proven.

Another decade of our lives is gone forever, and we should move on without regrets. Regret will hamper you in the decades to come, so do not regret your actions. Acknowledge your mistakes, but do not dwell on them. We have seen many new things in this decade; let it be so for many more to come.

Happy New Years, everyone. Sorry for the lack of posts and this being so sappy.

THE MOTHERFUCKING ORIGINAL STORY, SHORT VERSION WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Oh man.

A lithe young woman sat slumped over in a chair, asleep, with a book near where her head lie. She stirred as a guard checked the library for any intruders.

“Oi, girl. You have to leave now, closing hours are well passed.”

She groggily mumbled something incoherent in reply. This made the guard pulled her up by the neck of her shirt.

“You have to wake up, girl, and leave. Now.”

AND THEN A FISH CAME IN AND SLAMMED INTO A TEA WALL, LOSING ALL OF ITS HEARTS.

Inspiration for the last line comes from Sinespe. Woo.

A Quick Short

Blood dripped from the Blood Elf’s arm, due to a dagger having been lodged within the area near his elbow, on his left arm. He withdrew it with attempted haste, but it was far slower than he would have hoped, due to exhaustion and pain. He finalized the thoughts of his plan after a few seconds of final deliberation, and began to dash in the direction he came from. He took cover behind a relatively large rock as the group of Scourge hunting him passed. He muttered a small prayer to the light, and he felt feeling come to his left arm again, and his right arm was no longer in pain as intense as it was.

‘The only reason they were able to do this to me was due to me being a fool and coming with merely my leather and bow, rather than my plate and warhammer. I will surely learn from this. And they will learn not to attack a Blood Elf, soon.’

He prayed once again for might, and his prayer was granted by the Light. He now stalked silently along the path the Scourge went, so as to ambush the small group as they did him. He thought, then, the downfall of his plan.

‘How am I supposed to kill moving bones with a pointed weapon,’ thought Nirzel. He then realized that his plan was in fact, terrible, and not much of a plan, and retreated. Stalking back, off the side of the road, so as to be less obvious, he headed towards the nearby settlement of Fairbreeze Village, and requested a healer before he promptly fell asleep right in front of the innkeeper.

Beginning to awaken from a deep slumber, he lithely turned onto his side, and fell off the place he was resting on, which was a small cot. He groaned in pain, having fallen on his left arm. Due to his albeit quiet groan, the nearby priest heard him and came to his side.

“How did you end up falling off your cot?”

“Some of us instinctively sleep on our sides, or at least attempt to. I’m apparently one of those people.”

“Well, that’s rather useless information. Anyways, where the hell did you get these wounds?”

“By a scourge ambush. Due to my rather excellent luck, it happened on the one time I had to focus on speed rather than durability and battle capabilities,” responded Nirzel.

The nurse sighed, and checked under the bandage covering Nirzel’s arm. “Nothing is really badly damaged, so that’s relatively good.”

“Indeed it is, but I believe that I must hurry onward now; my destination is Silvermoon City, and I am not to be stopped. I must retrieve my cache of weapons, and also deliver an extremely important message regarding our acceptance into the Horde.”

The priest gasped at this, and her face contorted with disbelief. “Why would they accept us?”

“Someone is out of the loop, it seems. You were informed that the previous Ranger General was Sylvanas Windrunner, correct?”

“Indeed I was. Where are you going with this?”

“Sylvanas was killed in the battle for Quel’Thalas, and she was raised as a banshee under the Lich King,” began Nirzel. He took a deep breath and continued, “But when the Lich King was under attack by Illidan, his influence was weakened. This allowed her and several others to break free and form a new faction, dubbed the Forsaken.”

“I see. Go on.”

“These undead, the Forsaken, are members of the Horde. And they have been one of the key reasons we’re being accepted. They helped us reclaim the Ghostlands, and slay the traitor Dar’khan; Sylvanas requested our acceptance into the Horde, due to us being her people, but still… alive.”

“That is rather interesting, Paladin. But, must I beg to ask; why does she still care about her former people? She has her own folk to care for now.”

“She cares because of former racial bonds, and for the fact that the Alliance have gained another race to aid them. The Draenei, I am sure you have heard of them. Large, violet-blue men and women, with the men having tentacles sprouting from their chin, and the females growing horns from their head. They are the so called “uncorrupted Eredar.” The prophet Velen is their leader.”

“This is news to me, for some reason. Alas, I’m afraid that I am not to be stationed here for long, having traveled from the plaguelands. Seeing as you are heading to Silvermoon, and I must report in from my stay with the Argent Dawn, I will accompany you so you do not get ambushed once more.”

“Thank you, for what it’s worth. I’ll most likely need the aid, if they’re as strong as the last group I’d encountered. I was surely unprepared for such an attack,” Nirzel finished. He informed the innkeeper that he and the priest were leaving, and that she should tell the rangers’ leader nearby as much, and they set out.

“So, priest, what is your name?”

“Earinle’rusil.”

“Nirzel.”

“So, Earinle’rusil, what was your purpose in being within the plaguelands? Were you doing research on the remains of the undead, or..?”

“I was there to slay them, and heal those of the Argent Dawn who were harmed in the battles. One battle in particular, was truly frightening. The Death Knights descended from their nearby necropolis, and attacked, with many of the Scourge. They also had the undead men of some supposedly northern race, known as Vrykul, and the reanimated of their women were known as Valk’yr”

“I see. I have not done much research recently, but I have for long wondered what the name was of the giant race of the north. It seems they are truly beside the Scourge, if what I saw was true. They believe Arthas to be a God of Death, whom will save them if they are worthy, or curse them if they are not. It is truly a strange culture.”

“Indeed it is, but enough chatter; we must focus on getting there without much harm coming to us.”

Nirzel nodded to Earinle’rusil’s final reply, and quickly glanced in all directions. He could hear the sounds of battle in the distance, but not much else, excluding the natural wildlife. He kept pace with the female priest, and was able to get to Silvermoon at a decent time, before the sun fell. They bid for entrance with the spellbreaker guards, and were accepted after a spell of illusion dispelling. They walked to the Court of the Sun, where the regent lord lie. He was in a furious debate with his subordinates, including the Ranger General.

“Sir, pardon me, but we have urgent reports to make,” interrupted Nirzel. He was glared at for a few moments until they realized the severity of the situation.

“Go on, young ones. What news do you have? You first, priest.”

“The Argent Dawn is starting a crusade into Northrend, and the Death Knights from Archerus have redeemed themselves and are rejoining their racial factions. Tirion Fordring has taken the mantle of the Ashbringer, and is leading the “Argent Crusade.” Many of our fallen soldiers have rejoined our ranks, but not nearly as many as have fallen.”

Lor’themar acknowledged this, but was not entirely convinced.

“Now you, paladin.”

“I am glad to report that the Ghostlands have been reclaimed. The foul traitor Dar’khan is slain, by me and several other agents. I have been told to inform you that is within our race’s best wishes for you to write a document pleading for entry into the horde, and that the Dark Lady, Sylvanas Windrunner, will vouch for our acceptance. She is queen of a new race of undead, the Forsaken, and they were a key in the reclamation of the Ghostlands. With your permission, I will also retrieve the cache of titansteel weapons and armor, so as to better serve us.”

“This is good news, Nirzel,” Lor’themar recognized him now due to his knowledge of the titansteel cache, which less than a dozen were informed of, and only one paladin among them. “You may retrieve it, after you send out a call for the others. They must be armed, also. You are dismissed. Priest, continue, in more detail.”

Nirzel bowed and exited, eager to alert the other survivors of the expedition of Lor’themar’s permission to retrieve the equipment. To start, he went to the Farstriders’ lodge, where Oenia was. As he entered, he was glared at by the two guards but given no trouble.

He looked around the small area, and found Oenia in a relatively isolated corner. Her pet, or friend as she liked for him to be referred to, was alert, feigning resting. He jumped onto his paws at the sight of Nirzel and licked his hand as a greeting, and went over to nudge his mistress.

Waking up and gently getting into a standing position, she drowsily yawned and bowed and asked, “Whom do I have the pleasure of being awoken by?”

“It’s Nirzel, Oenia. The titansteel cache is being opened, as soon as the rest of us are assembled.”

This brought her to full awareness, having been waiting for years since their expedition to Northrend to use these weapons once more. She grinned and walked to the entrance of the lodge, and beckoned for Nirzel to follow.

“So, Lor’themar has finally given us permission to use them. This is good news, we will surely be able to finish the Scourge in our home, especially with the Sunwell retaken and Illidan the Betrayer slain.”

“Indeed we will, but we have other things to worry about at the moment. The Dark Lady, Sylvanas is going to plead for our admission into the Horde, and we will be able to stand against the Alliance and their crude human allies.”

Oenia nodded, remembering the story she’d heard about Sylvanas being raised as an undead and her will being freed from Arthas. “So, Nirzel, where are the others?”

“Inel is defending the Dead Scar, Oruan is defending the Isle of Quel’Danas, Noein is recuperating in the inn connecting to Murder Row, and Leir is most likely with Noein.”

“I see. You can fetch Inel, I’ll get Oruan. We can take Noein and Leir on the way back.”

Nirzel muttered a word of agreement in Thalassian and went to the bank.

“Hello, I am here to retrieve something. Nirzel Dawnstriker, Paladin.”

The man behind the counter looked through a catalog and found the name to be there and accurate. He pointed over to the vault where Nirzel stored his items, and went back to what he was doing.

Nirzel walked over to the plated vault, and placed a key in the hole. He turned it, and it clicked, releasing the complex mechanism. He walked in, and his eyes were drawn to the wall. He saw a set of well worn plate on a rack, and walked over to it. He moved his hand lithely along the shoulder plate, but withdrew it and turned to another set of armor. A golden hue, rather than the cool blue of the previous armor, it glimmered with the light coming in from the lighting of the vault.

He took it upon himself piece by piece, it feeling heavy and bloated the entire time.

‘I am truly spoiled due to the titansteel… I look forward to being able to use it once again.’

He grasped a silver warhammer, inscribed with runes and glowing with the Light. He walked out of the vault now, needing to get Inel. The citizens saluted him, as did most people, when they saw him in his regalia. He went to the entrance, and left without a hitch. He went east, to retrieve a hawkstrider.

—

I figured I might as well put this up for you folks to see, before I’d forgotten it. I’ll most likely post random parts of Remnants occasionally, so as to keep my writing capabilities together as I work on the compilation (rather than releasing it page by page)

So, a Blog…

I have no experience in such things, and am therefore a blogging virgin for lack of a better term. I am predicting much pain and suffering.

Huh.

Anyways, this is going to be a blog with information. Shiny information.

Informative information may be more to your liking, I assume. This is going to be a blog about the World of Warcraft, what I do in it, what my opinions are on the game, its developers, its backing companies, its leading players/guilds, the PTR, the lifestyle of a WoW player, and how much better PC gaming is than console gaming.

Especially that last one. Particularly the parts about WoW. Let me preface my blog with saying that Bobby Kotick (Activision Blizzard CEO) is an unloyal piece of money-grubbing garbage, with his focus pinpointed onto profit. This can be good, or it can be bad.

He may let the company to cater to the people who put time, effort, money, and dedication into the game.

Or, he may force AB to cater to the people who put time, and money in, but no effort, no dedication, no actual thought. The people who believe that “hey dued, its just a game, clam down, 500 dps is gud.” The people who constantly ask for easier and easier content, when they put no effort to get into the hard content. The people who forced them to create things such as the low quality (in comparison to Ulduar) Trial of the Crusader.

God help him if he forces them to cater to the latter for much longer. Cataclysm can be the saving expansion, or the final straw that broke the camel’s (or, in this case, the dedicated players’) back.

And so, I hope I’ve left a good impression on the people who are worth it, and a bad one on those who aren’t.

EDIT: So, I’ve been told that I wasn’t clear enough when I said Trial of the Crusader was low quality. It is low quality, at least to a portion of the playerbase, due to one of several reasons. One reason is that it took place in a single room, and there is no exploring. A different reason is the relative ease, in comparison to Ulduar. Yet another reason is the fairly large jump in difficulty between the normal modes and Trial of the Grand Crusader. Unlike what was implied, I am not against ‘casuals’ who play for short amounts of time to get loot. I am against people who can pug it and still get fairly far. Sure, there are good pugs, but if a majority of them are suddenly clearing a raid instance that is a step above Ulduar, what is the difference? Organization? Difficulty?

To be honest, I don’t know. Anyways, using a rather less perverted thought than originally came to mind, different people like different standards. Some people may not care whether someone worse than them gets gear, as long as it’s not theirs. I’m one of the elitist bastards who do care about these things, at times. Other times, I don’t really care. All in all, props to the dude who designed Freya and the Twin Valk’yr, along with the Professor Putricide in ICC; you’re one of the best on the team, in my opinion