“Has anyone got any Golden Scarabs spare?” I ask mid battle, as we bound across Dragonwake from Eataine. Our band of merry men plough through the lush green fields as one hulking mass of armour and death. In ancient times Dragons would heed the call of Princes to defend the lakes, but I get the impression it is their day off today and it’s down to us, instead…
“How many you need?”
“As many as possible really” I reply, my shameful grovelling having gone well over the morning. One guild mate kindly giving me 11, for which I was most grateful.
“I have some I can give you.” said Baruk. He was at the front somewhere, bobbing along on his flying Gyrocopter. His feet dangling away limply, like the bones had been removed.
“What would you like in return?”
“Well….;o).”
“I’m pretty sure Miz is a guy Baruk…”
“I can be anything he wants me to be for Golden Scarabs! ;o)” I reply, flicking my dazzling Elven hair as I storm past him on my steed (well I would have, if an animation permitted me to do so).
~laughter~
My screen is a blur of people. I would guess around 300-400, split pretty evenly between Destruction and Order. As the good guys, we’re camped in the centre of the map, surrounded on all sides by Destruction flooding in like the tide. It’s the busiest I’ve seen WAR for a long time. It’s the day after a new patch and my computer despite the madness is holding out…just.
Reminiscent of Hillsbrad in World of Warcraft during the early days of release, Order and Destruction push back and forth in a perpetual motion. There’s no need for an objective or real purpose other than to smash your opponent in the face, but we are intending to storm the Keeps, hold the Battle Objectives and jump on the next flight to Praag.
One Witchelf by the name of ‘Gib’, a near naked femme fatale, covered in spikes, duel wielding wicked blades and laced in poison, keeps singling me out. I’m unsure whether it’s my dazzling good looks, or because I go down quicker than Mel Gibson’s reputation, but either way I’m face down in the dirt in under three seconds. The Rune Priest strapped to me is hopelessly trying to keep me alive and is no doubt fed up. Just letting me die is probably the easier option.
I smash the keyboard in frustration and my phone suddenly vibrates.
Jemma: “Are you coming to bed? Xxx”
It crosses my mind to send an extravagant text back to reflect the raging battle I’m currently facing;
“In a bit, I’m just in the middle of a fight for Dragonwake. The forces of Destruction are intent on holding the keeps, so that we cannot obtain an expedition to the Land of the Dead, while a Witchelf is singling me out, so until I string the hag up I might be sometime xxx.”
Instead, I simply settle for “Not be long xxx”. She wouldn’t understand anyway.
We’re finally gaining the upper hand, and manage to steam roll the remaining stragglers. Heading over the bridge, I look down and guess who. It’s Gib! She’s managed to fall off the cliff face and land trapped in the water below. Skirting round the edge, Baruk pops up behind me laughing loudly over voice-com at how often she killed me. I’m embarrassed at how easily I died.
I draw my bow and drop a single Festering Arrow onto her head. The pop of the arrow leaving the bow whirls in my ear as it takes flight, a mouth watering “4485” damage appearing on screen in big bold yellow text. A quick flight of an Eagle Eye arrow follows swiftly after, and Gib slumps into the water without any chance of being resurrected. Looks like a long walk back I think to myself.
“Where to now?”.
“Last keep, then we’ll hit Praag.” Said Baruk, his legs flopping away as he zooms off towards the East.
Fifteen minutes later and the Keep has fallen, its door’s smashed to smithereens and the Keep lord laying dead. A Golden Chest the size of a wardrobe has landed next to him to split the spoils of war between 100 people.
“Right, I’m off guys. The day I win a gold loot bag is the day I re-subscribe to World of Warcraft”
~laughter~
“Night all.”
Working my way towards the Flight Master (who will kindly transport me back to the Capital City for a pretty penny), a Witch Elf pops into view and jumps me, cutting me open. It’s Gib, and I’m dead in seconds.
“Bitch.” I muttered, as I exit the game with a rapid tap on the escape key.
My cat sat next to the keyboard looks at me with big green eyes as if to say “Who, me?”.
Email the author of this post at lewisb@tap-repeatedly.com
That was hilarious. I think you’ve found an arch-nemesis, Lewis.
Karma, Lewis. Karma.
Revenge is sweet. Bad Company 2 has had me tunnel vision on certain individuals because they’ve continually peppered me with bullets. I’m not surprised she ambushed you, I can only imagine the grin on her (or his) face afterwards.
Haha, thanks Lewis – good for a Tuesday lunchtime read – brings back bittersweet memories of WoW.
Nothing was better than seeing some poor sod getting corpse-camped and mauled – then jumping into your overpowered alt to give the campers the surprise of their life. (well, the surprise of their hour.)
First read….what a winner.
Makes me want to blog again.
Cheers
Enjoyed the read, thanks.