“We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz!” one merry man sings as he gallops around me dizzyingly.
I’m in the Land of the Dead (an appropriate title for a desert filled with skeletons and token scorpions) and I’ve joined a party lead by a rough looking Warrior Priest. ‘Sigmar’ is scrawled across his forehead. I’m unsure whether its carved into his skin, or written on in blood, but either way he’s kindly agreed to lead our motley crew on a guided tour. Thankfully he’s saving us the usual spiel of “and on your left is a sarcophagus,” and instead it’s straight down to business…
“To the Carrion nest!” he shouts, atop his steed.
“Aye Captain!” we all shout in reply, like overly enthusiastic children from a Birdseye advert, making our way from the crowded camp and onto the desert plain.
I’ve never really explored what the Land of the Dead has to offer, despite having every opportunity. There’s no doubt it looks great, with its wind swept sand and statues of forgotten gods stretching high into the sky. The dunes are littered with skeletons rambling too and fro, the tick, tick, tick of their rickety bones echoing in my ears. A satisfying crunch of scattered bone echoes as you send them back from whence they came. It’s all very impressive.
After a short gallop over a nearby ridge, I’m staring at a giant Carrion. A feathered bird that’s certainly seen better days, but is big enough to peck off a limb in one fell swoop. I fire an arrow in its general direction, and it begins to hobble over to me like a pensioner. Gleeful at how much of a breeze this is, I decide to taunt the old bugger and jab at it with my sword.
The next thing I know, the bald headed beast has griped me by the shoulders and is carrying me high into the sky. I’m hurtling through the air (it’s actually quite a sluggish unexciting pace) to a nearby cliff face, where it plops me down in a birds nest the size of a car. Taking a swipe at the eggs without a seconds thought and a clear conscience (sorry little baby birds), I smash them to pieces while leaping from the edge and staggering down the side.
An enormous Carrion, ten times the size of its siblings, crashes into view and begins to swot our merry men like flies. Needless to say he heads straight towards me (perhaps it’s the colour of my attractive outfit?), and pecks at me like I’m a juicy grub that’s just popped up from beneath the soil. Thankfully a Rune Priest manages to keep me alive (which makes a change) and the bird is brought down with a crash.
“Has everyone got the Glyph for this now?” asks the Warrior Priest. Obviously proud of his brood.
“Yes” we reply in unison, covered in feathers.
“Who rolls 91!?” I moan, in total disgust at my dice rolling ineptitude. My luck is as bad today as the day I started playing. I’ve tried everything to improve my chance of winning loot. Keeping my fingers crossed, holding a lucky penny, keeping a rabbit’s foot in my inventory, and yet I still never win. It’s the cross I have to bear (much like being a Shadow Warrior).
Still seething from misfortune and two hours later, we are at the final Public Quest. I’ve still not won a single loot bag, despite having the highest contribution bonus in every quest. To make matters worse, on the last Public Quest I missed out by just 2 points.
Thankfully I have now have Golden Scarabs coming out my ears; my coin purse is overflowing with the shiny insects, but they aren’t much use when I’m on the hunt for Silver Ankhs. I am told Ankhs will be obtainable when I’ve completed these Public Quests. I hope so, I think to myself, I’m fed up of staring at the bottom of an empty loot chest.
“Destruction…” says the Warrior Priest at the front of the pack.
“Get em!” shout several people as they suddenly charge into the fray.
A Choppa, a giant green Orc monstrosity wielding two huge cleavers and wearing armour that can only be described as impractical, heads straight towards me. He’s swinging his arms like he’s possessed and despite my best efforts, he kills me as quickly as Gib did. My snare failing to stop his onslaught, the words “immune!” popping up over his head. No shit.
“I’m resurrecting Mizaki! Get up silly, you can sleep later!” shouts one of the Rune Priests.
I’m back on my feet, limping away like a wounded animal only to turn around and see the same Choppa charge at me like a freight train. A quick swing of his cleaver and I’m on the ground eating sand, instead of dirt (there is a theme developing over these diaries…). The Rune Priest resurrects me again only to find that I’m revived next to my new best friend, Mr. Choppa.
He’s scalping me for fun now.
I hit respawn and call it a night, one Player Quest short of full Glyphs. Looking in my inventory to see my spoils of war, I notice something missing, but can’t quite think what. I then suddenly realise.
My lucky rabbits foot. It’s gone!
You can contact me in game by mail or tell at any point in the evenings on Mizaki, Karak-Norn (Black Orc Down Guild). See you on the battlefield!
Email the author of this post at lewisb@tap-repeatedly.com
Lewis, you have a way of bringing these games to life in a way that actually playing them never has for me. : )
It’s PUBLIC quest, not Player Quest. 😉
Thanks Tzeentch, I’ve always called them Player Q’s 😉
I’ll fix that up 🙂
This brings flashbacks of all my worst MMO experiences. Thanks for the nightmares =P