Tulsi Sweetbasil, the unintentional porter

For almost as long as I've been gaming, whenever I'm given a choice of class in fantasy rpgs, I've gravitated towards high dps classes - usually ranged and usually elfish. Just to make sure I wasn't playing my myriad hunters/rangers/snipers out of ignorance, I tried a couple years ago to make a healer on LotRO, a minstrel named Sioned. She was dragged, kicking and screaming, into Moria (it only took two years) and then, she was abandoned because I simply couldn't take it anymore. I am not a good healer. I don't enjoy healing.

I assumed that because I hated healing, that I would hate tanking as well. As a joke, and more to say I had a guard than to really put any effort into it, I created my first tank - a hobbit guard in LotRO named Tulsi Sweetbasil. I leveled her to 15 and then forgot about her. I had somewhere else to store stuff, I had an extra crafter if I wanted to take the time, but really, who wants a hobbit tank?

Then, a very good friend of mine (who happens to play a guard very well) decided it would be fun if we leveled our baby guards (he had created a new one) together. Tank lessons. This should be fun.

  At first, I will admit, I was confused. I had a vague knowledge of the class (and when I say vague I mean vague in the sense that I might as well tell you the plot of a book I've never read and only heard about from a friend of a friend who's sister's boyfriend's cousin read three years ago). Also, at first, it was very boring because it seemed that all anyone ever wanted Tulsi to do was carry things. Case in point, consider the next few screenies:

Carrying a chicken

The hobbits of Oatbarton and Northcotton were particularly bad about needing things carried, and after a while I stopped taking pictures of the random things I was asked to tote from one end of their village to the other. Some of their requests started to sound like Aiel punishments.

Now for a pie!

No carrying this time!

Holly Hornblower, can, for all I care, choke on her spoiled pies. I carried so many of those things to her. If she has the nerve to cook a bunch of spoiled pies, she should at least have the gumption to go collect them all herself.










Finally, in Dwaling, things started to look up. No carrying for Tulsi! I get to blow glass! The head glassblower said I had made a 'thing' they would 'have to find a use for. Maybe an ash-tray for pipes.' Hooray! At least my future as a carrier isn't in jeopardy with any budding talent in glass-blowing.

Que the Sousa tunes

To celebrate my lack of carrying things for a while, I went down to the Shire and set off some fireworks for the fourth of July. No one else was there, except a fox, and even he ran away. They were some noisy fireworks.

She takes all this work with a smile

My celebrations were short-lived though, for as I moved up towards Tinnudir, I was quickly being forced to carry things again. What, does toting a shield around make one's arms especially suited for porter work?

Venison for dinner.

I really was learning about tanking though, in between all the courier work. Here we have me picking on a herd of deer, while my friend and teacher stands by and cheers.

I killed them all.

Not my friend, but the deer.

My first real solo challenge

 We both started to feel after a while that I was beginning to get a handle on this whole being a tank thing, so I set off on my own to see how much I had learned. By now I was in the wastes of Angmar, and not long after leaving Aughaire I saw my first challenge - a shard-dropper with three times my morale. This should be fun.

 I steadied myself, ate a quick couple bites (vitality and wound resist never hurt) and Let Fly! He came after me right away, rather indignantly, and the battle was joined.

I quickly realized that besides having three times my health, he was also four times my height. Was Tulsi mad? Had she gone suicidal in her solitude?



The fight was over sooner than I thought it would be, and yes, I used all my cooldowns, but it was worth it. I felt accomplished, watching that hill-beast fall to the ground in front of me. His adamant shard is something I will treasure forever (or at least until I get to a vault-keeper).

Tulsi, the victorious.

 

I won't be a real tank until I can __________.