Posts Tagged ‘story’


For Freedom

April 21, 2009

butterfly3Today I’m not going to talk about Warcraft, roleplaying, tanking, or even another game altogether. This last Sunday afternoon my father passed, and I’m going to take this space here to leave a memorial for him. Please feel free to comment.

When I was just a kid in kindergarten (or maybe first grade- it doesn’t really matter which), my dad took off the entire day from work to stay home. After I left for school, he snuck into my room and pulled out my Lincoln Log building set. When I got home that afternoon, the entire kitchen table was a huge “Old West” cowboy fortress being attacked by Indians and we spent hours playing through the battle.

Another time, a weekend in February, there was going to be a blue moon; a second full moon in the same month. It was special because February is a very short month, so the odds of it happening in February are extremely slim. He set up his telescope out in the backyard and taught me not only what a blue moon is, but about the craters on the moon and how he was watching when the first man walked around on the surface. How things in the sky always move across from East to West so we had to make sure to keep changing the telescope so we could see things.

Almost every summer we’d go camping, and when I got older I could even help back in and level the trailer. I always thought it was “soft” camping (and still do) but you were right that it’s nice to have pancakes in the middle of the woods in the morning. We never did have to argue about whether campfires were better built “pyramid” or “cabin” style though, because with enough beer and propane anything will light, even without kindling.

I think it was in Starved Rock campground where you took us and I remember seeing sandstone for the first time. I couldn’t even imagine how all that sand could have gotten there to make a rock out of, but it stuck with me and now I’ve gone off to college for Geology. Illinois was under the ocean! Who knew!

Things didn’t always go smoothly between us, but I’ll always love the black & white version of The Day the Earth Stood Still (the new one sucks), and I’ll always prefer and old, solid, durable tool to a new, cheap, and plastic one. I hope all the best brands of beer are in stock for ya, Dad. I love you.


On the Elemental Spirits

April 7, 2009

firelordSo once again Etsugal and I were musing about aspects of Azeroth that are probably way to deep for anyone to muse about… except that we’re roleplayers and that’s just what you do. This time, it’s about elementals and the Elemental Plane.

The rule about elementals is that you do not talk about elementals. I mean, they’re trapped in the elemental plane. It’s actually somewhat strange that we have a character class entirely devoted to communing with and working with elementals because in their own way, elementals are Bad Guys. Way back in the day, before the titans, the elementals were the servants, lap dogs, and soldiers of the Old Gods. Old Gods are bad. They’re like… Well like the Aztec gods. Like Huitzilpochtli demanding hundreds of blood sacrifices to not destroy the world.

In any case, the titans arrive, lay out a picnic and sit around discussing how very fine this whole world would be if only those party pooper Old Gods would stuff it and let them enjoy their pimento loaf sandwiches. Well, like any good picnic nuisance, the Old Gods couldn’t just up and stop being annoying, so the Titans created the Elemental Plane, locked the elementals there, and then shoved the Old Gods down below the ground and figured they were done. At this point they start building things like dwarves and gnomes and Uldaman, Uldum, Uludar,…and a bunch of other things that begun with “Ul” too, I’m sure. Not very creative, were they? What this leaves us with, then, is a bunch of elementals from four opposing factions shoved together in one little prison. And this is where we come in. Read the rest of this entry ?


Aeodh mac Aodh

March 10, 2009

siege_engineA cheerful orange glow issued from the coals as a stocky dwarf pumped the bellows three more times and wiped her forehead on a rolled-up sleeve, grinning. Between the clanging of hammer on iron and the roaring of the wind over the top of the chimney, Aeodh and her father weren’t able to speak, but they did share their excitement in identical expressions of glee as the last piece of heavy-tank armor plating got its final shaping. Tomorrow, the piece would be heaved up against the side of the great war machine being built in their shop and bolted into place. Technically, there were still some minor things to clean up, aesthetic modifications to make, and the final check of all the fittings, but effectively this project was done.

Aeodh resumed pumping as part of the coal bed started to darken, and her mind began to wander. After the first four daughters who took up tailoring with his wife, Aodh Steamsmith had decided that his next child would be a son, one way or another. One more bouncing bundle of joy later and he had Aeodh, his new “son”, wrapped in a blue scrap of wool and handed around the tavern for toasts. It was only about five years ago that she’d really started helping her father in his siege vehicle workshop though, even if she’d been in here “helping” since she was a baby. Truth be told, her first steps were made from her mother’s skirt over to her Pa’s toolbox when Ma wasn’t looking. Her father was just fit to bust with pride when he saw that, and knew he finally had the heir to the family business he’d been hoping for. Read the rest of this entry ?


What happens in the Thousand Needles…

January 20, 2009

This is a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure style story. Grab a coin to flip, and read the first paragraph, making your choice and following the instructions at the end of the paragraph to your next part of the story where you will make another choice and continue on. Enjoy!



You step, blinking, into the sunlight from the shade of the massive mesa above you, wondering what to do. In just the last hour you went from the beloved child of Bloodhoof Village to an orphan, stranded in the Thousand Needles.

Reliving the incident, you recall how happy everyone was as they were walking to Freewind Post on holiday. Singing, joking, the small band was completely unprepared for the centaur attack when it happened. One of the hunters had pushed you off the road into a bush and gone to fight, and when you got back to the road, everyone you knew had died, laid out in the harsh Needles sun and the centaur run away with your food. Well, you won’t last long out here without the supplies, so do you…
Choose to take the road East? Go to 5.
West? Go to 3.


You continue along your path to the North, each step carrying you farther uphill.
Go to 16.


The road stretches before you to the west, hot and dusty. Vultures circle overhead, a short distance off the road, and the oppressive heat makes the air before you shimmer. Suddenly, a crack splits the air! You near leap out of your skin only to realize it was a frightened rabbit crossing your path, the stick it must have broken laying in pieces behind it. You sigh and make to continue on when you notice a game trail off the road that the rabbit came from. Do you…
Stick to the road, it has to lead somewhere, right? Go to 28.
Take the game trail, maybe it’ll take you someplace cooler… Go to 13.

Read the rest of this entry ?