Wordless Wednesdays: Gemyndsted

The Journal of Gonff, page 3

The next morning I resolved to turn myself in for what I'd done. I marched myself across town to the city jail, and after taking a deep breath, went inside. It was crowded inside, and the guards appeared to have their hands full. After waiting my turn in line, I approached the desk and cleared my throat. The woman behind the counter looked up and asked what my business was. 

"I ... I would like to turn myself in."

She raised an eyebrow, and the guard standing nearest the counter stiffened. "What did you do?"

I hesitated, then announced, "I killed a man. Some men. Several."

By now the guard was on full alert and looked ready to stab me with his spear.  "Who did you kill?" The woman asked, dipping her pen in the inkwell and preparing to write in her logbook.

"I ... I don't know their names." 

"How many did you kill?" She asked, not looking up from her logbook as she scribbled down information.  Her handwriting was small and angular.

"Seven or eight .... it .... it all runs together a bit." I don't remember how many the farmer had asked me to kill. I just know that once I had settled into the idea that they were vermin and I was seeking revenge for my hometown of Archet, the killing had come easy and I ... I had lost myself.

The woman looked up at me, obviously surprised at the number. "Where did this happen?"

"Outside of town, in the ruins south of the Road." I answered. 

"Blackwolds?" she asked, skeptical.

I nodded. 

The guard standing by the counter relaxed visibly, and the woman laughed - a warm, throaty sound. "You mean to tell me you're trying to turn yourself in for doing the city a service?" She scratched out everything she had written in the logbook with bold strokes. 

"But I need to be arrested. I killed those people. I'm ... a murderer."

This last statement made her angry. She stood and pointed to the jail cells on either side of the room, which were full. A few were probably holding more than the intended number. "We are full up of people who actually deserve  to be in here, and you want to tell me you are trying to turn yourself in for clearing vermin? You don't need to be locked up, I need to give you some livery and put you on the Town Watch. What do you say?"

I blinked and stumbled backwards, tripping over the uneven floorboards. I scrambled to my feet, shaking my head, and ran out the door.

Outside, there was a woman kicking and spitting on a Blackwold tied to a post. I stood for a moment and watched them both, and saw the hate, the fury, in the woman's eyes as she abused this nameless man for who knew what sort of crime.

Maybe they were right. Maybe the Blackwolds weren't really people anymore.

Wordless Wednesdays: Fangorn Forest

 

The Journal of Gonff

It's been five days since the burning of Archet. My family, what little there was, is missing, with no sign of either my sister or her husband.  I left the ruins of the city after picking through the husk that was our house.

There was nothing left. 

I might have been comforted by bones - but there were no remains. I'd like to think they are still out there somewhere, alive. Maybe they got out in time.

Well, that bit about nothing might be a tiny lie. I did find one thing - an old journal of my sister's - the one she used to write her herbal remedies and recipes in. It's a bit charred on the edges, but there were lots of blank pages at the end, and as I've nothing else to do - - - 

The sky has been pouring rain for three of the five days since the fire. Rain. You'd think it could have been raining the day of the attack. Maybe then Archet would still be standing. The dead would still be dead, but there would be something still standing at the end.

I left the ruins after two days, when the rain started and the ashes turned to black sludge, running smears of char down the streets in runnels. So many deaths. The fields of Archet are sown with headstones, row upon row. 

Like every other refugee, I've fled to the other cities, looking for work, food - anything. Combe was full to bursting, and the guard of Staddle had been so increased over the past few days in fear of the Blackwolds, many folk (myself included) are avoiding the city simply out of fear. 

So far, Bree has held little for me either. Though the streets are full and the markets bustling, clogged with other refugees like myself, people keep to themselves and have little in the way of a warm smile, much less an open hand. Times are tough, and purse-strings tight. 

There are so many people about, looking for homes and work and food, the citizens of Bree have hardened. Most are turning away any questions about employment, and many won't even acknowledge you in the first place.

The air is turning cold. I can tell winter is on its way, though the leaves have just now begun to turn. Maybe the dryness of summer's last breaths are what fueled the flames - maybe if it had only been a wet spring instead, or - - -

 I stumbled my way through the streets to some inn called the Prancing Pony. It was warm enough inside, to be sure, but I spent almost the last of my coppers on a mug or two of cider to warm my belly. I had little enough left, none for a crust a bread, let alone a room.

After dozing by the fire for a while, letting my soaked clothes dry, I wandered about the inn. The proprietor, a bumbling man by the name of - - - to be honest I can't remember his name. I was cold and wet and all I wanted was something warm in my belly, with a bite to numb my mind. Anyway, the inn was busy, with people coming and going. 

No one saw me slip into the kitchen. No one saw me slip a few handfuls of food into my pockets. The ale was over-priced anyway - it's not like I was actually stealing. I was evening out the cost. 

I am sure he has gouged the prices to take advantage of the refugees anyway.

The next morning I made my way to the Mayor's office. There was rumor he had a listing of those in the town who had work or lodgings. The line of people waiting to see the mayor was out the door, and the crowd around the notice board was so tight I am amazed I even got close enough to be able to read it.  I took every name off that list I could remember in the time I had before I too was shoved out of the way with fellow desperates and went my way to check out the leads - all of them had either been filled already or - - - 

There was this one fellow, lived near the Staddle gate as best I could tell - I can barely find my way around this mess of a city - I asked him about the notice he'd left in the town hall, and he gave me one good look over, spat his chaw out near my boots, and shook his head.  "Naw," he said, "I don't reckon I've got any work for the likes of you." I wanted to punch him in the face, but instead I turned and walked back out into the rain. No use getting myself arrested. The likes of me, indeed. I'm no criminal. Honest, hard-working man. Have been all my life. Sold my sister's remedies, wrote the post for those in the town as couldn't read nor write themselves. Taught the boys their letters in the winter-time.


As I wandered the streets some more, slowly eating the last of the dry bread and hard cheese I'd 'borrowed' from the inn, I spotted a miserable looking dwarf, slouched against the wall, an empty mug in his hand. I wondered if he was from Archet too, or what troubles he was trying to drink away. 

Ah well, the rain has to stop eventually. The refugees will eventually all find work - places to sleep and eat and fields to work - and I will find - - - something. My sister, maybe? 



Not tonight, though. I've got enough coin for one more bit of ale. 

 

An RP Experiment: One Lonely Burglar, Seeking Companionship

This is Gonff. Aside from being my first male character in an mmo (heck, in any game where I had a choice), he is something of an experiment for me. I will be rp-ing this poor fellow as hardcore as I can. That means a few very distinct things:

1. He will walk everywhere, unless he has a justified reason to run.

2. If he manages to acquire a horse, he will probably walk the horse for the most part, as you can't run a horse like a race car. It'll collapse.

3. He will only do his adventuring during the day, unless his activities necessitate nocturnal behavior.

4. If, in the course of his adventures, he dies, then he is dead. Honestly, this is the one that scares me the most. I kind of want to run to my friends and see if I can wrangle up a pocket healer, but I don't know how that would fit into his character.

5. He must eat something at least once a day, and I don't mean while standing in front of an orc. He has to sit down, make a camp, and eat. While we are on the subject of making camp, let's talk about resting. He has to rest once at least every couple of in-game days - whether at night or during the day, it does not matter, but for an acceptable length of time. Enough to correlate with several hours sleep in the real world.

6. No use of global chat channels. He doesn't have a palantir, y'all.

7. No transferring of equipment or gold between existing characters on the same account.

8. No knowing things he doesn't know. He doesn't know people's names until they introduce themselves, there are no levels, etc.

9. In-game dialogue must be short and to the point, much like normal conversation. No rambling monologues or story-telling (unless he is asked to tell a story, of course).

10. ALWAYS STAY IN CHARACTER. No brackets, no OOC clarification, nothing.  If it's not in character, it does not come out of his mouth.

This character is going to need a lot of patience. Probably a good bit of planning and a quick hand on the HIPS skill if he's to survive. It'd be great to have a buddy on this adventure, one willing to RP it out with me. Any takers? He's on Landroval.  Send me a message and let's get going!

In the Halls of Our Fathers

Dwarven RP in Lotro is not something I've had much exposure to. For a while, even, I was not sure I would even want to play a dwarf at all. They are a bit clunky looking in-game, to be honest, and I can't quite get over how similar they are in movement to some stubby ape. Tolkien's dwarves, in the text, were represented as sturdy folk, to be sure, but I'm not quite sure if that meant their arms had to be longer than  their legs.

/ahem
Moving on.

My curiosity over dwarven RP, regardless of the appearance of the dwarves, has always been there, and when I saw an advertisement on the Lotro forums for the calling of an Althing - a gathering of dwarves, much like the Nordic tradition for which it's named, my interest was thoroughly piqued. So I cornered my RP buddy and convinced him to roll a baby dwarf, and together we went to the Althing.



The Althing was to be hosted by three of Lotro's largest dwarven kinships, but due to some last minute issues with attendance, the turnout was rather small, so the gathering moved from the main court to the interior of the Frosthammer Clan's stoic hall. Snorrir, their resident skald, treated us to a naming of all the statues lining the entry-way, and the Frosthammers joined together in saluting the memory of their ancestry.

Once inside and comfortable before a warm fire, the Althing began in proper, with a court of sorts held to bring for grievances and settle disputes. Braldr, Lord of the Frosthammers, was sound in his judgement and wise in his words, as befits a dwarf of his years and standing. Snorrir, the skald, also told an amusing tale behind his moniker Shiningbrow.

My only disappointment is that the announcement on the forums promised a recitation of an original epic, in the Germanic edda style, and that never happened. I'm sure they are saving it for a larger crowd, as they are for the sparring matches and competitions, I'm sure. A handful of 75s against a handful of lowbies wouldn't be much of a contest.

 My young Thyrca, who is a very young dwarf, comparatively, was quite overcome by the nobility of the Frosthammers, and vowed to find a way to bring honor to his young name and come to the next Althing with a grand tale to tell.

Side Note: I toyed with the idea of rping Thyrca as a female dwarf, as all my other characters are and always will be female, but I settled against it due to lore issues that I found unavoidable. Also, the fact that you cannot have a beardless dwarf, and Tolkien is not clear on whether or not the female dwarves were bearded gave me pause. I can be quite the lore-monkey when appropriate. So I made the decision he was male, and whaddya know, two of the dwarves in attendance were female. /lesigh.
 

In the end, the Althing was smaller than intended, but I took comfort in that because of my unfamiliarity with dwarven RP (which is vastly different, it seems, from the rohirric/general RP I've been enjoying the past few months). The Frosthammers hope to host an Althing monthly, citing ancient traditions and whatnot, and hopefully, as time goes by and exposure grows, the Althing will become a keystone event in the realm of Landroval's RP community.


We could all use more RP.

More Meta-deed Completion

For a long time, I assumed Indy was forever doomed to be casual. I was never going to see the inside of anything tougher than Sword-halls. Then I started raiding, and I saw the insides of some very cool places. Progress was beginning to be had all around on meta-deeds of all sorts.

 Then I stopped raiding, for the most part, due to dropping my sub and getting out of the game for a couple months while I tested out SW:TOR, and in the process of leaving the game I got behind and all the rest of my kinmates are far ahead of me in content and raiding experience. Trying to get in runs now, being behind the curve, it's kind of hard sometimes to imagine ever having all of the meta-deeds finished. If they keep adding content fast enough, then perhaps I will never be finished and I will always have some sort of goal. Of course, as long as I have alts, I will have goals, but that is a tangent we don't want to go down just yet.

Tonight, with the dedicated help of my favorite tank, I managed to finish one of them, the Tempest of Dol Guldur. This one, while less intensive than say, the Moria or Angmar meta-deeds, still took a long time and a lot of work.

Now it's all paid off, and I finally have it finished. The default name was Moonlight, but I changed it to Ananlend, Sindarin for a very long journey. Indy decided to show off on the banks of the Great River Anduin in the new area of Thinglad just after sunrise. I know this sounds silly to all the non-gamers out there, but it was rewarding to finally see it, to ride it around. Felt like I'd accomplished something. Even if it was all pixely and not really worthwhile in the long run, I guess.

My only problem now is to decide what deeds to tackle next. I have pretty much run out of things to do duo or solo, and I'm getting into deeds that will take a goodly number of people to run. The more people something takes to run, though, the longer it will take me to complete the deed, especially when the deeds are ten levels old. No one wants to run that old stuff. For example, I have the Ost Dunhoth meta-deeds to do now. But no one runs Ost Dunhoth anymore, because it isn't cap anymore, and no one wants to waste time on getting raid gear when they're going to blow through those levels on their way to 75 anyways.

/sigh. Back to being casually anonymous, I guess.

Forced Labor

So Squid and I finally managed to push a little bit farther in the epic line, and wouldn't you know it, those stupid Dunlendings, who we'd helped and helped and helped, they sold us out to Saruman. Now we're prisoners, forced to work in his dungeons. Squid had the worst of it, as I think I was too busy being a photographer to actually help her with her tasks. She manages to carry a barrel full of weapons magnificently though. Sashays like a boss. Her taskmaster is staring like a creeper over the top of the barrel. Try as we might, we couldn't get rid of him. Kept stalking her. Course, she is gorgeous. I only wish it wasn't so dark underneath Orthanc, because it makes for dim, hard to see pictures.

And she has some awesome moves. Like this one, to the left, where she douses a rat in holy light. We actually had a quest called "Kill Ten Rats." I don't know if that was just lazy story-writing on the part of the devs, or pure genius. Also, my eagle, can't remember his name, looks fantastic in this picture. All swoopy. Ahem. Even though we were prisoners, our wardens were kind enough to let us keep our weaponry. And our nanimals. What kind of prison is slavery in Orthanc, anyways? Other than the hard labor and disgusting living conditions, it wasn't that bad.

So a short post, because I am out of sudafed.

Does This Mean I Have No Life?

So I finally did it.

I cancelled my lotro sub.

And yes, I shed a couple tears before I hit that green button. Does that mean I take the game too seriously? Does that mean I have no life? Probably.

Do I care? Yes.

We can't justify paying for three mmo subs right now, and with SW:TOR still pretty fresh on our plates, lotro, being the old, worn out, flataslastweek'snewspaper game, it had to go.

So why was it so hard for me to cancel? I've waited weeks to do this. I've wanted to find a way around it. I considered using Christmas money to pay for another year's sub. I considered all sorts of things to scrounge up the money to pay for another year's sub. In the exit survey, one of the questions asked was "what can we (Turbine) do to bring you back to Lotro?" I put in that they could give me a free lifetime sub if they wanted, because honestly, there is nothing wrong with their game (or wrong enough to drive me away).

I just don't have the time (or, more importantly, the money) to keep paying for it.

I guess it is all the time I have put into the game over the years that is killing me. All the fun memories I have of running things with Squid. The friends I've made - who thankfully, have moved around with me to other games (I'm looking at you, Minecraft and SW:TOR, and yes, even you, stupid Tanks).

I think my biggest fear in hitting that green button was that this felt like a betrayal to Indrabar. She's been with me for so long, and hey, it is an rpg, after a while it does begin to feel like that pixelated thing on the screen is a part of you, and that you really did defeat Mordirith or clear out Sammath Gul or down a dragon or two.

It feels like a betrayal because there was no Indrabar in SW:TOR yet, and there probably won't be, because, as my husband once said when I was creating my character for that short stint in SWG,  - "It's not a very Star Warsy name. It just sounds, well, elvish." So, for SWG, I went with Tsuka, and Tsuka is now in SW:TOR.


Tsuka was also in Skyrim, instead of Indrabar. A psychologist might say that two personalities are fighting for control.

Yes, I know it is just a game.

Yes, I am a sane, mature adult. If I wasn't, I wouldn't have cancelled.

Just because I am an adult though doesn't mean I have to be happy about the choices we are sometimes forced to make.

 Well, here's to the 20th, and whatever changes that will bring to Indrabar and the rest of my lotro characters. Hopefully they won't all just poof into thin air. Hopefully I won't cry like an idiot again.

Maybe now I can have a real life, you know, in the real world.


If I was able, I would give Indrabar permission to punch me in the face for just metaphorically indefinitely locking her in a dark cell with no chance of sunlight or ever seeing her forty-nine horses and three goats again..

Dunedain Outfittery and the Prince of Rohan

Let me start out by saying I am really enjoying what Turbine is doing with their new book content. Either they've got some new tech or they're showing off some new trick, but either way, some of the things I've seen in the Rise of Isengard expac and the new update 5, which just launched today, are making me bouncy happy.

Preparing for battle

Mounted npc's? Yes please. Now, when do we get mounted combat? Would that even be possible, Turbine? Also, looks like they are getting more comfortable with putting lots of npcs in one spot - some of the epic solo chapters are, well, epic. Between Wulf's Cleft and this new chapter, the Prince of Rohan, I am finding the story to be much more immersive, and superbly written. I suppose with the launch of SW:TOR looming on the horizon, it makes sense for any mmo other than WoW, and maybe even that one too, to throw everything they have at their player base in an attempt to retain subscribers. I have come to the sad decision to cut off my lotro subscription in the coming months, but that is the beauty of the game being free to play, I suppose. I can keep playing, and only pay for what I want. How a la carte of Turbine.





I haven't finished the new book in Volume III yet, but I'm loving what I have seen so far. Especially the fact that Indy finally has Dunedain clothing. I have wanted that since she first stumbled into Esteldin, over three years ago.Back then, the rangers were cool. And now, Indy is about 20% cooler. I'm just wondering how it will hold dye. My wardrobe is drooling, waiting for both sets to be put in it. That is, assuming I can afford the extra wardrobe space. I might just pick certain pieces for everyone else, and reserve the complete set for Indy. She gets all the shiny things. Boot knife!!! It's only fair, you know. Okay, now I'm just rambling. I'll stop.

I can't wait to get into some of the new Isengard instances. It will probably be a while, and Indy is kind of behind on her gear, but I'll catch up eventually. It just might take me a while.

Since Squid hasn't made much of an appearance lately, here she is in her sultry new duds, beating an old goat about the brainpan with a stick.

I miss my free time.

Happy Autumn!

Squid and I have been slowly enjoying bits of the new Lotro expansion, Rise of Isengard. To celebrate Autumn and it's none-too-early arrival, Squid came up with a rather festive outfit and attempted to share her happiness with a new-found, errr, friend at the Dunlending city of Galtrev. It didn't go so well.

Squid and her new half-orc friend-thing.

More posts on the loremaster's adventures through Isengard to come!

 .... not that any of you out there in the great big Interwebs actually reads this.

The End of Winter, the Birth of Something Unexpected

I have had my second age bow for almost a year. Well, I had it. I finally crunched it last night because of a very unexpected gift from a dear friend. I was able to craft my first 1st age weapon last night using something I never thought I'd hold - The Symbol of the Elder King. It still needs a great deal of work, and it makes me sad that with the expansion coming out just right around the corner (literally, it's Monday) that the bow probably won't last long before I crunch it it as well for a level 75 piece. It would be nice if the weapons actually leveled with you so you could hold on to them, but that would take too much grind out of the game I suppose and then people would have less of a reason to continue playing lotro.

Any way, not that any of you care, my imaginary readers, but here is the last look I ever took at Winter's Breath, and the first happy look I took at my new 1st age (who is yet without a name. Suggestions? Still not to the last reforge).

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 __________.