Planning at the Pig

This is a bit old, but figured I'd do something about the recent RP.

Lorelli surprised us all with invites to a "party" from one of her old... "acquaintances," and thought of trying to fit as many Riders and allies as possible into the place, to try and stir things up, or at least get some info on other relevant stuff. There was a good deal of discussion, then the possibility of a fight came up. Considering that Lark is about 6 months pregnant by now, I think you can guess what she and Pitch thought about that. Once the main details had been hammered out, they went outside the Pig to talk things over.

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Pitchblàck eyes Wildlark up and down.

Wildlark eyes him back.

Pitchblàck flattens his ears slightly.

Lorelli eyes Annalea thoughtfully.

Annalea says: Hmm?

Wildlark gives a quiet sigh.

Lorelli says: Just trying to figure out where you'll do the most good.

Wildlark says: Excuse us a minute

Jahira watches Pitch and Lark curiously.

Wildlark says: All right, out with it

Pitchblàck looks guilty.

Pitchblàck says: If there's going to be fighting, I don't think you should go

Pitchblàck says: I know you want to, but...

Wildlark sighs again. "And you're probably right."

Wildlark grins crookedly. "Could have picked better timing, hm?"

Pitchblàck says: We didn't know all this was going to happen

Pitchblàck says: Few more months, right? Then we can let his aunts and uncle worry about him

Wildlark says: I know

Pitchblàck takes her hand and rubs it gently.

Pitchblàck says: So....?

Wildlark says: .... all right

Wildlark leans.

Wildlark says: .... just come back to me in one piece

Pitchblàck says: Always

Pitchblàck hugs.

Wildlark says: Let me go find Rheugan, so he can hear the details

Pitchblàck says: Mkay. Heading home after?

Wildlark nods into his chest.

Pitchblàck squeezes, then lets go.

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Poor Lark. The Riders are being awesome and trying to help come up with things she can do, but we are mostly coming up dry right now. Hopefully she'll find something she can do soon, before she goes crazy with boredom.

On a side note, this is one reason why they are working so well as a couple, and why I love them so much. They talk, about nearly everything, even if their conversations are just inside my head (while I'm at work, dinking on alts, playing other games, etc.).

Art Dump!

I been busy. Enjoy!


I made a(nother) worgen druid on the Arthas server so I could play with my brother (that's become his "main" server). Roebar is already level 20 after around 7-8 hours /played. Getting him into a level 25 guild right away helped a ton.

I am RP'ing him in my head when I play him, and his personality is.... actually, a lot like I imagine Rheugan's would be if he were more.. balanced, I guess? "Roebear" is a ton of fun to play so far. He is bear specced, and I'm debating going kitty with him when he gets his dual-spec, or trying out boomkin. And obviously, he is already inspiring some art!

I may wind up drawing him as much as Rheugan, if this keeps up. I'm slightly concerned about the whole PVP server thing, but I figure this will let him get out all his aggression against the Horde (specifically the Forsaken) easier. *evil grin*

Speaking of Rheugan...


I found a picture of a wolf in a random Google image search, and decided to try drawing Rheugan using that as a ref. Had to make some modifications, of course, but I think it worked out well, don't you?

Lark gets all the blame for this one- seriously, it was her idea! And Pitch is enough of a ham that he just went along with it. Nothing important is showing (/smacks Lark), but uh, probably still NSFW.


This last one is currently my favorite, for probably obvious reasons. It's still too early for Valentine's Day, but who cares? Also, they make me happy.

I do hair with the burn/dodge tools, and this picture turned out so HUGE that it just about killed my wrist/elbow to get Lark's done. Still, it was worth it.

Been doing a lot of leveling alts in WoW and LotRO. Davoss is almost 74 now and still merrily tanking things in the face; I haven't even touched his ret spec since he left Outlands, except to use up his talent points. Prot is too much fun. Arnen is getting attention too, he is 32 and currently has ALL THE HEIRLOOMS, so leveling him won't take long. :D

Alanon-druid is 83 and closing in on the end, plus Rillian is geared enough for the raid finder. His first run he walked out with 2 tier13 tokens, plus a pretty axe I'm keeping for future transmogging. And I am tentatively making plans for getting Quae and Barraccus up as well (though Dav might still beat them to 85 >.>).

In LotRO I am usually logging in on someone just long enough to get 1 level, then switching toons. XD Hey, it still works, right? I do want to get Basten up to 40, then after that I will probably try to get Ilfariel up to match him. After that, it will depend on what I feel like doing.

I think that about sums everything up. I have a lot of stuff going on outside of gaming, so I may have to beat myself into posting stuff on my "non-WoW" blog, just to get it out of my head. The Riders are finally getting ready to move on in our big story arc, so the next few days will probably be crazy-busy.

Til next time, Happy Hunting!

Whaaaaaaaaat...

I will occasionally check out blogs/websites that will poke fun at the really bad RSPs you find in-game, but I've never actually seen one myself.

Until now.



Whaaaaaaat is this I don't even know.

Stuff 'n Things!

I am being bad and distracted by in-game "Oooh, shiny" so haven't gotten any writing done. >.>

The Riders have been doing some old-school raids lately, so Pitch has gotten almost all the ICC achievements he needs for a frosty skelly-drake... which he'll probably never use. Oh well.

Lark's gotten in some Ulduar stuff too, and now has her Starcaller title. Pitch likely will too, now that we've found out how simple it is to get to Algalon. I'm still hoping to someday get Lark an ironbound proto-drake, too. *crosses fingers*

Her normal raid is still going strong- in fact, we chalked up another kill to our total for Dragon Soul. Ultraxion down, finally!

He doesn't leave a body, so I had to take a screenie of his loot chest. Also, ignore all those skeletons there, kay? >.>

It was so late when we got him dead that we just hammed around with the next fight, just to get a look at it.

I got a bit of a present when we reached Hagara, the 4th boss- Rill got to come in and do a little thievery. I couldn't do anything else with the questline until the raid was over, but he did start his ring charging before I logged, so by morning he was all set.

I'm not really sure how to describe the questline. All the stealthy bits were fun, especially after I found some video guides on Youtube. My only real problem came with the boss fight itself. Rill just could not get Creed down before he enraged and smashed Rill to bits. After dying to the fight all day, and getting him agonizingly close a couple times, I finally got a break and teamed up with another rogue, and we got him down at last. Woot!

.... and then I transmogged them. >.>


My only excuse it that Rill just wouldn't want to carry around daggers that look like most of the Cata models. Combat knives, on the other hand, are totally diggable. Shush.

My altitis has slowed down, though I still want to get Rill and Pitch (and maybe Turron, but he needs work) ready for the raid-finder. And Rill needs to play with his new shinies anyway.

Other than that, I've been tinkering on LOTRO again, and Basten the burglar is now level 38! He's still my highest toon, though I want to get Ilfariel up to match, plus a couple of my other toons (Elgo and my new guardian Raedbor at least). Rift has been meh lately, but that might change as well- mostly because the server my sister and I were on is being changed to a trial server, so we'll be moving our toons to higher-population servers.

And that is all I can think of for now. Til next time, Happy Hunting!

First, Finest, and Last: Alanon

Next installment! Here is Alanon's first, finest, and last, which was surprisingly easy to write. Lark's will be done eventually, I hope- I have most of it thought out, just need to actually write the darn thing. But anyways, enjoy!
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His first was one Elliea Whispertree, not Jaryla as his family commonly thought. It was on one of their numerous pilgrimages to visit the World Tree Nordrassil, when they had camped for the night and she had lured him away into the surrounding forest. It had been quick, quiet, and fairly pleasant, and then promptly forgotten by both parties once they were back among the other Kaldorei. He'd told Jaryla what happened, of course- they told each other everything- but allowed everyone else to remain in their ignorance. He'd lost track of what happened to Elliea, but thought that she was most likely dead by now.

His first happened while he was still little more than a stripling just out of training, as unexpected as it was difficult. He and his companions had been tracking a rogue band of satyrs and come across where the demons had found a camp of lumberers. The lone survivor was found in a collapsed tent. He was unresponsive, gone out of his mind after seeing his friends tortured and murdered in front of him. The others gave him up as a lost cause, yet Alanon had stayed with the man as the rest tracked down and dispatched the satyrs. Healing the man's physical injuries was simple enough; healing the wounds to his spirit proved nearly impossible. But three days later, when his companions returned to find the man still grieving but sane, the looks on their faces was all he needed to know that he'd found his life's calling.

His first had been names out of legend- Cenarius, Ysera, Malfurion. Alanon was just one druidic student among many, trying to learn all he could as fast as he could. He'd thought at first that his path was forced upon him, because males simply did not become priests, but it didn't take him long to realize that being a druid was everything that he could ever want and more. He had devoted the rest of his life to simply do the best he could to make those teachers proud.



Jaryla Shadowleaf was his finest, no doubt. Too alike in some ways and too different in others, they weren't suited to be mates or lovers- but they managed to take being "just friends" and turn it into an art form. Their travels took them worlds apart at times, but that never bothered either of them. They knew that home was waiting whenever they next met.

There were many that he could consider his finest, but he would choose Shaurria by virtue of being his most recent. She was already on her way to healing when he arrived, but he saw no problems in helping the process along. Now, whenever he watched the once-shy youngster unshift to speak to a total stranger... when he saw her smile or heard her bright laughter... whenever she called him An'da... he knew that whatever anyone else might say, he'd done a fine job with her.

His finest was hard to define. It spoke to him through the wind in the trees; it whispered to him in the grasses. At times it would shout at him through the storm's thunder, or the rumble of the earth below. It could be called Nature, that's what most people would name it as anyway. He preferred to simply call it Balance.



His last had been Arien in a stolen moment when Kal had been late to come home. He knew full well what it meant for a Kaldorei to love a human- he'd seen it already too many times to count. But she filled the empty places in him that nothing else could touch, and he knew that no matter when she was taken from him- or he from her, which was after all just as likely- he could truthfully say that he had no regrets.

His last was technically still a work in progress, but Alanon felt sure that the worgen Rheugan would find his full healing in time. Yet another youngster thrown into a war before he was ready, he had been a challenge every moment Alanon had spent with him. The scars were there, some likely permanent, but Alanon knew he would not give up. Healing was in his blood- physical, spiritual, psychological, they were all the same to him.

His last was his first, his finest, and his only. The thrum of life that filled and surrounded every living being, the balance that kept them all moving smoothly through this universe. After ten thousand years he was still going strong, and he had every intention of serving the world's balance, to the very best of his ability, until the last breath was gone from his body.

Oh, Pitch....

One of those times that you just want to stop your character and tell them he/she is being stupid, before they put their foot in their mouth. This is a good example of why I love RPing him so much.

If it isn't obvious, they were discussing Lark. >.>
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Shad says: How is she doing?

Pitchblàck shrugs, then grins.

Pitchblàck says: Well enough. She decided that today was bath day

Pitchblàck says: I would have helped but she had Quae and Barraccus, so I was in the way

Pitchblàck says: The only one that needs held is Quiloe, anyway, and she's small

Jahira chuckles.

Rheugan snickers.

Windstar blinks, then goes 'oh'.

Pitchblàck blinks at Windstar. "What?"

Threnn grins at Star and Pitch.

Pitchblàck says: What did you think I meant?

Windstar shrugs.

Threnn says: Likely the same thing I did.

Shad says: And I.

Pitchblàck blinks at Threnn.

Pitchblàck says: ... oh. Hmm

Windstar kitty-grins at Threnn.

Jahira chuckles again, ruffling Star's ears.

Pitchblàck says: She was giving the animals their baths. My sister and her mate were helping

Windstar purrs.

Pitchblàck says: Better?

Threnn says: Suppose.

Windstar says: Yes, much

Shad says: I was going to start talking about how good temperate baths can be for a pregnant woman, so yes, the clarification is a help.

Zeve says: M'plannin' a trip to the Hot Springs now, though, so.

Zeve nods at you.

Zeve says: Thanks, mate.

Shad grins wickedly at Zeve.

Windstar blinks at Zeve.

Rheugan covers his face with his hand, making suspicious snickering noises.
__________

At least he didn't mention that if she was the one taking the bath, he'd more than likely be in it with her... I mean, uh *cough*

First, Finest, and Last: Rheugan

And here is Rheugan's first, finest and last, which was by necessity a bit different from the others... you'll get it once you read it (I hope!). I was actually really glad I wrote this, as it gave me a lot of insight into his character, which helped in his later posts. :D

Again, this is from several months ago, hence the possible confusion with the timeline.
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His first? That one was still to come, if it ever did. But aside from that... he supposed that like most small boys, his first had been his mother. She had been a worse disciplinarian than his father at times, but she had balanced that with a selfless devotion to her family. When his father was killed, she had set aside her own grief to see that her son's transition from heir to lord had gone smoothly, and when he had decided to take his father's place on the battlefield against the worgen, she had supported him despite her fears. It was no wonder that he had worshiped her. Learning of her death hadn't started him on his downward spiral- that had already begun- but it had certainly sped him on his way.

His first had been a wild worgen in the streets of Gilneas City, pursuing a civilian across the square where Rheugan had been posted. He had called up the first of the attack spells Celestine had taught him, a blast of nature energy that had knocked it off its feet, then run in and set to work with his club until it had stopped moving. Once he was sure it wouldn't be getting back up, he had promptly and thoroughly lost the contents of his stomach. When that was over, he'd wiped his mouth, then gone to look for the next invader.

His first had been his father, latest in the surprisingly short line of Jamestons that had clawed their way up the social ladder from sheep-farmers to titled nobility. He had taught Rheugan the things that all good fathers teach their sons: treating others with respect, the value of hard work, and never giving up on the things you wanted. When the worgen first attacked, he'd shown Rheugan too that there were some things that were worth any sacrifice.



Shaurria was his finest, though he feared that others would get the wrong ideas about their friendship. When Pitch had first introduced them, he had expected yet another person that would shy away because he was cursed, or drill him with questions of "What is it like?" Instead, she had shown him an acceptance so complete that it boggled him. Her friendship was something he had needed desperately, and he hadn't even known it until it was there in front of him. He knew she would never be "his", not in that way, but it didn't matter. What did matter was that when his inner darkness threatened to overwhelm him, she helped him to remember he was still human.

His finest had been the Banthar in Nagrand. Pitting himself against that beast had seemed like suicide, but Pitch thought he could do it, so he'd tried. He probably wouldn't have survived it, either, if it hadn't been for the cat. When he'd finally gotten to its throat and it had collapsed, nearly crushing him in the process, the adrenaline rush had made him giddy. It was only later, when Stormwind was quiet and everyone else had been asleep, that he had realized just how strong he'd gotten... and how much a danger he now was.

If anyone asked him, he would say that Prince Liam had been his finest. He had been proud to serve his Prince, first against the worgen and later against the Forsaken. But in reality his finest was the creature that stalked the shadows in his mind. Yes, the wolf had been his finest, and he knew full well what people would think if he admitted it. It had driven him mercilessly, through heat, rain or snow, to commit unspeakable violence to innocent people, to slake it's unnatural thirst for blood and pain. But it had also forced a will stronger than iron on him, and when the time came that he could look into the wolf's eye and tell it "No," the thought that it had helped shape its own downfall was only fitting.



Kyraine had been his last, and he would die before he ever let her find out. They had nothing in common except their homeland and the curse, and besides, she had her own problems to deal with, without being saddled with his as well. But she had gone out of her way to be kind to him, and for a lonely young man that felt at times to be very much still a boy, that had been enough to start entertaining thoughts of "What if." He had never said anything, never let it show, because what was the point? Nothing would come of it, and before long those thoughts had been swallowed by his larger issues, just as he had expected.

A ghoul outside Wintergarde Keep had been his last, little more than a few ribbons of flesh draped over bone. It had clawed him as he tore off its head, but he knew he had little to fear from the Plague, even up here. The curse protected him from undeath, and he found it ironic that he had finally found one thing it was good for.

The cat is his last, and would be until his last breath; he was beginning to understand that now. If he'd thought sharing his mind with the wolf was difficult, well, that still hadn't prepared him for what had turned out to be a cold, impassive predator. He still wasn't sure if they could work things out between them, if they could learn to be allies instead of enemies. The best Rheugan could hope for at this point was to hang onto the last remaining shreds of his dignity, and when the final hunt ended in the unseen future, he could at least die as a man, and not a beast.
_________________

(I only wrote these 2, but plan on doing one for Lark and Alanon too, once my muse lets me. Those will be posted once I'm done with them.)

Plans for the Future

I've suddenly gotten an itch to write about these 2, probably thanks to a comment I got awhile back asking if there would be any more stories of them. Plus, I've been all but ignoring them for so long, it's about time they got caught up to current time. Enjoy!
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The private room at the Wayfarer's Rest was quiet except for the rustle and tear of wrapping paper. Kaled and Khaotic reclined on the bed and couch, respectively, and watched Kalenora unwrap her Winter Veil presents with nearly identical expressions of contentment.

Khaotic was just starting to doze when Kaled's quiet voice startled her awake again. "What would you think about hitting the road again, like we used to?" She lifted her head to blink at her husband in surprise, then her expression turned thoughtful.

"I've thought about it," she admitted. "But it didn't quite feel right, not while Kale was still so small." Kaled nodded. "But she's bigger now," he pointed out. "I think she's old enough now that she could get some good out of it. But what do you think?"

Khaotic eyed him curiously, then gave a small smile. "Are you really that anxious to be doing something?" she asked him. He shrugged, blushing just a bit. "It's.. it's not really that... or rather not just that," he answered, then gestured to his daughter. "I want her to, well, see things. I don't want her to grow up here all her life, in all this..." He waved his hand around vaguely. "I want her to get out and see different places and people, so she doesn't become like all the rest of our people."

Khaotic couldn't quite hold back her mischievous grin. "You mean snobbish?" His blush returned more fiercely, and she chuckled. "I know what you mean, dear heart, and I do agree with you. She does need to broaden her horizons a bit, but I don't think traveling during winter would be the best thing- for any of us." Kaled shrugged again, then nodded. "Probably not," he agreed, then paused.

As her parents spoke, Kalenora had unwrapped her last present. Now, the 2-year-old picked up her new favorite toy, a small rag doll, and carried it over to Ashke, where she offered the doll for inspection. The red lynx lifted his head to sniff at it with distant interest, then plopped his head back down to resume his nap. Satisfied, the little elfling went over to her father and reached up with her free hand. "Da?" Kaled smiled as he lifted her up, and she settled in his lap, sticking a finger in her mouth as she hugged her doll.

Kaled grinned as he gave her a gentle squeeze. "Winter wouldn't be the best, but we could head out once spring sets in," he continued, looking up at his wife. Khaotic was watching them both with a touch of affection. "Where would you want to go?" she asked him. His expression turned wistful. "Anywhere, really. We could head back to Outland if we wanted, or maybe Northrend- it should be safe enough with the Lich King dead. Or there's Hyjal, or Uldum..."

Laughing, Khaotic cut him off before he could go on. "All right, Kaled, I get the point. Look, we have at least three months before the weather turns warm again; why don't we take our time deciding where we want to go first?"

Kaled agreed, and for most of the rest of the morning they sat and talked over their options. Kale - slowly falling asleep in her father's lap - had no idea what they were talking about, of course, but it was enough that they sounded happy.

_____________

So yea, Kaled and Khaotic have been enjoying family life. I have no idea why they would have moved... maybe the Reliquary made them an offer they couldn't refuse? (And drat Blizzard for moving NPCs into the homes of nearly all my characters. /grump) They are living in the Wayfarer's Rest now, where hopefully the RP-griefers will still leave them in peace.

I have 2 toons leveling in Northrend already- Rajast is coasting along at 74 already, and I got Davoss from 67 to 71 just in one day. O.o Pally tanking is still ridiculously fun, btw. I'd like to get them both out of Northrend before I start leveling Kaled and Khaotic, but that shouldn't take too long. I figure once it's actually spring, then wherever they set out will depend on what level I have them at by that point. (Hopefully that made sense....) And I will definitely be keeping a sharp eye out for Loque while they're in Northrend!

RP on Alliance has been a bit scattered because of crazy RL schedules, but there is still Stuff Happening. Lark's raid is still going- we've gotten the first 4 bosses down, but Ultraxion is still eating us for lunch; I will be so flipping happy when we finally kill him. And I've been tinkering a bunch on my other-server alts, with tentative plans on getting Andrano and Carienne to 30, and the rest of my lowbies to at least 20. No time frame for that planned, but it'll get done eventually.

I think that's about it for my rambling, and I need sleep now. Til next time, Happy Hunting!

First, Finest, and Last: Pitch

This started out as a thread in the WFR forums here. I joined in the parade of posts and wound up writing one for both Pitch and Rheugan, but then promptly forgot about them. In the interest of non-blog-silence, and to motivate me to finish writing these for the rest of the toons I was planning to, I figured I'd finally stick them up here as well. Enjoy!

Keep in mind these are from several months ago, so yes, they are a little out of date now. Sorry. >.>
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His first had been Learah, and it still hurt to think of her. For three seasons he had put up with her whims, the teases and torments she thought up for him. He had figured out pretty quick that she didn't love him, but he had still done his best by her, damnit, and it still hadn't been enough. When the inevitable moment came and she had cast him aside, he had wanted to kill her. Now, he satisfied himself with the simple belief that whatever had happened to her, it must have been exactly what she deserved.

Technically, his first had been a stag, taken in the Ashenvale forest near his brother's house. Discounting all non-sentients, however.... his first known kill had been a naga off the Zoram strand. She had been focusing on Alanon as he fought off her myrmidon guards, preparing to blast the elder druid with some spell that had been coating her webbed fingers in ice, and it had been no trouble at all for Pitch to sneak in behind her and jump on her neck. He had felt so.. detached, even as his fangs met through her throat. It wasn't for another year that he had learned it was the cat, coming to the surface at the moment of the kill, that prevented him from ever feeling anything when he killed. He had had to go wash the blood off afterward, and to this day he still considered naga blood one of the most vile things in existence.

His first had been Alanon, whom he loved with a hero-worship that still hadn't faded after six centuries. There was nothing, in Pitch's mind, that his brother couldn't do. It didn't matter that his own abilities, or lack thereof, kept him from learning all the druidic magic that Alanon had to teach. His brother had taught him everything else he needed to know.



He still considered his finest to be Skyborne. Sure, she had kept him confused and off-balance more times than not, but she had been the first person he'd felt comfortable with since his arrival in Stormwind. She had been the reason he hadn't immediately turned tail and gone back to his home in Ashenvale. And that night in Fells' barn, as she writhed on top of him and his back bled from her nails into the straw, he had finally felt the last of the chains Learah had put on his heart fall away.

His finest had also been his hardest. Ursoc was his god, but he had been corrupted by Yogg-Saron. His salvation lay in his death, and Pitch had faced it like every other challenge in his life- full throttle, no holds barred. The fight had been brutal, chaotic and excessively long, but in the end, as he watched the cleansed spirit of his deity fade into the air, the only thing Pitch could feel was satisfaction.

His finest had been the ancient, weather-beaten druid that had found him when his cat went out of control. The old codger had never given his name in all the months Pitch had stayed with him, but Pitch owed him his life all the same. He'd promised Pitch he'd teach him to "control" the cat. At first he'd been convinced the old man didn't know what he was doing; later on he'd been convinced the old man would kill him. But despite all his doubts, in the end it was he that was in control and not the cat, and for that Pitch would be forever grateful.



His last had been Lark, of course. They'd been at it pretty regularly, hoping beyond hope that somehow Shad's crazy plan had worked, that they would find out the baby she wanted so badly was on its way. Pitch himself wasn't sure what he wanted. He didn't know if he was ready for fatherhood, kept telling himself that he was still too young. But Lark wanted it, and after all they had been through already, he knew he'd give her anything she asked for... because he loved her.

His last had been a flame druid in the Molten Front. Weakened by two of Lark's arrows embedded in its torso, it had been an easy kill. He sometimes wondered if he should feel bad about killing them; it was possible they had simply been misguided by Staghelm, after all, and they were still of his people. But all it took was to see another of the fire druids in its cat form take a flying leap at his mate, and all thoughts of sympathy fled in favor of his protective rage. There was only the next kill.

His last was the Riders, and he still didn't know how that had happened. He had nothing in common with any of them, really, and he had always been on his own before. But however it had happened, he was one of them now, and he would bleed and kill for any of them, no questions asked. That was just what you did for your pack.