Fahren al-Heit - Eeriest Elk Story
Among my characters resides my little played four school
arcane, Mana C spec Mage, Eeriest Elk. Drunk and delusional at best. Fun to
play. Here to fore an untold tale of the Elk!
-----------------------------------------------------Such demands are placed
upon one who is the MOST powerful mage on DerethÒ. It seems as though everyone
wants something from you. “Buff my skillz”, “Can you get me another
Virindi amulet?”, “Who’s underwear is this?”, “You going to pay your
tab or what?”, “Hey! Come back with my chickens!” etc. I feel so like
I’m getting pulled back and forth, not unlike clothing at a 50% below our cost
sale. Feeling under appreciated for my glorious august presence and not wanting
the usual admiration of my adoring fans (I love you allÔ) I decided instead to
pick someone at random to aid incognito.
It seems as though the new resort that opened is called Greenspire. This of
course interested me in the fact that at least three taverns that don’t know
me exist there. Donning my best purple Versace Virindi Cloak with matching
Lacrouix helm and gloves. I headed to Holtburg, home of annoyingly dressed
people who think because you are a few levels above them you have pyreals just
coming out your arse and want them to pluck it free with ungloved hands. After
dallying a bit to recall if I was paid up at the tavern I decided not to risk it
and headed to the portal there.
The Greenspire portal drop off is a haven for people unsure of where to go or
what to do. Mostly they stand around looking at each other and shrugging a lot.
Typical mouth breathing melee dudes and dudettes, wearing horribly mismatched
racial colored armor topped with the ugly quest helm of the moment. Brandishing
elemental weapons that serve no real purpose other then to look good for the
women who know no better. After seeing how long a freeking run it is to the
Platue (where all the GOOD hunting is) I find a nice portal to Redspire. Still I
have to run THROUGH a river (Turbine, where is my fly spell I sent in to you for
development. I will wave the fees attached to it if you can just hurry up). So I
buff for 20 minutes, just to be sure, then run, run, run, like a level 1 mule
trying to get to GW cuz I’m too lazy to untie the Bore with my uber-swordsman.
Well, if the indignity of sloshing my designer cloak thru the river of
questionable hygiene wasn’t enough. Some of the islanders decided that the
platue needed a mouth for people to run into. Oh good, I get to be swallowed by
the landscape; of course this makes the river quite a different metaphor.
So I get eaten up to the top of the platue and set off on my good deed. I find a
swordsman of decent demeanor and dressed quite nicely named Marko. I fire up my
spells and increase his various skills and he heads off to fight some shaman guy
who I guess ticked him off earlier. Seeing as how I just ran all that way and
used up a goodly portion of my mana I decided that a little break might be in
order. I have a good selection of peanuts that the bars leave out in little
dishes. I was mid way enjoying my nosh when the swordsman I just buffed into
ultra Uberness came running by me. I did a check and sure enough he went and got
himself hit a few dozen times. I carefully put the peanuts away and whip out my
orb of healing. A few spells later and he is back in fighting shape. About this
time some of these Aun deamon looking things, decided to use my back as target
practice. I recently restructured my spell bar and kept going past the heal
self-section. With a sigh I spun back to the Tou tou lifestone. Time to run
back… again… Oh my poor feet.
So again I go to Holts, Green, Red, mouth. This time I see Buffminster bragging
about how he did this or that and how he was the best thing since sliced bread,
yadda, yadda, yadda. I comment that I was done in recently and preceded to buff
myself up for the run to my corpse that Marko was doing such a nice job keeping
the puppies in the area off of. I take off and run smack dab into more of these
Aun creepies. There is a whole lot of them! More then you can shake a stick (or
wand) at. I really wished I had bane’d my robe at this point. They cut me down
mid stride, not to far from where I last died. Then depression set in. I
realized that things couldn’t get much worse. I had to do something normally
out of my thoughts. I ask Buffminster for help. Luckily Laryita is there and by
the time I get back through the mouth they have finished laughing. Buff and Lary
make short work of anything living on the platue, leaving grieving widows and
orphans no doubt. Charred earth is all that’s left as I pick up my meager
belongings. I shed a single tear for those inhabitants that dared raise a hand
against me only to be cut down like so many attendees of a Dennis Leary concert.
As I left the post holocaust terrain I decided that 10% vitae is too much a cost
for doing a good deed randomly. I really need to come up with a better pay or
play plan…
Oh, Thanks Lary, Buff and Marko for helping me get my stuff back. I woulda hated
to have to re-collect all those peanuts.
-EE
(The above is purely meant for entertainment and written with humorous intent.
No actual living creatures where harmed during the events this tale is based
upon, unless you count the chinchilla that was skinned alive, cooked and eaten
on my George Forman Grill)
----------------------------------------------------------
Thanks for reading
-F Gahru'n BM and loyal follower of The Silver Citadel (LC)
Original Thread : 09 - The Road of Promise