[Storytime/Journal] Delplas Rockhide: On Names

Our names have meaning. What they mean to us is what matters – whether or not they have meaning to those who speak to us means nothing.

Delplas Rockhide sat upon a hill that overlooked the ocean that bordered Ratchet. She only had a passing familiarity with the customs and beliefs of her Horde allies, but she had learned several things in her few run-ins with the other races. One, that the pink elves – Blood Elves – seemed to enjoy appropriating the cultural practices of others and two, that some Orcs seemed to believe that the vows they had made meant they could re-name others as they saw fit.

For Delplas, the refusal to use the name someone had been given was disrespectful.

Our ancestors received their names for the things they did and we carry those names with honour and pride because they make up who we are. They are not a lie. We make certain the meanings of those names are remembered in story and song, we pass on those tales so that others may be reminded. When we earn new names, those names have meaning, too. Some meaning is impossible to translate to Orcish – the Orcs’ tongue is too harsh, too unfamiliar, too primitive to truly understand.

The druid adjusted the tiny pair of goblin spectacles that were propped on the end of her snout and that she squinted through in order to write in the small leather-bound book that she held in one large hand. Everything was too small for Delplas, from the armour she wore to the charcoal she was writing with. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she added,

The Orc Gorteta is, I would wager, a child and lacks the understanding of an adult: the name one has been given or has given to himself is the name that must be used when communicating with him. To do otherwise is showing a lack of respect toward that person and to his ancestors, who have blessed the name. It does not matter what that name means to the speaker – but it is vitally important to the Named.

My name is not Druid, it is Delplas Rockhide. My first name was bestowed upon me by my mother at birth, Earthmother bless her, and my second name given by my Ragetotem elders when I sought to break from tradition. I am “Bear-Sister of the Impenetrable Hide”. My name means everything to me.

Delplas snorted as she pushed her little spectacles up onto her snout again and squinted at the words she had written. Her scrawling continued soon after, interrupted by occasional pause as she glanced skyward to track the sun’s progress on its trek across the sky.

It is extremely disrespectful to refuse to use the name that I, or anyone else, was given. It offends me that my name is going to be treated as meaningless by this woman because she does not understand it and because she disagrees with it.

The woman tapped her charcoal against the page. Since setting hoof among civilization she had found some very odd, but interesting, situations – and this one she was having trouble writing about. Delplas carefully closed her book and tucked it under her arm as she pulled herself to her hooves and made her way for the inn. Perhaps some sleep would give her some mental clarity and she could better form her thoughts later on.

A Taste, Just a Taste!

Last night, my friend Roshanar the Original Tauren Pally (on his Blood Elf paladin, mind) put out the call for bodies for the raid weekly, Razorscale.

Twenty-five man Razorscale.

It would be with Bad Moon Rising’s GROWL raid group, which includes Tchann and some other Harbingers and random people from the Roleplay community. I reluctantly offered my undergeared self in Mage form, warning that I wasn’t geared for 25-mans. “That’s okay!” I was told, as everyone else was overgeared anyway. So, I hopped to Kombeya and headed out.

It was my first time gunning for a Demolisher, and it was nice to have more to do than just shoot boxes, towers and giants. I kinda liked the whole hooking fuel thing, and Flame Leviathan dropped very quickly. I love watching motorcycles zoom about, too. Then, we gathered together to face Razorscale. Some in-character dialogue was exchanged, I actually remembered to use Focus Magic on somebody (another mage), and I blizzarded dwarves and pewpewed the dragon like I was supposed to (and I didn’t die in fire!).

In the end, I got a new hat. Kombeya has two blues left before she’s clad entirely in purples!

Really, the whole thing was easier than I thought it would be. BMR’s raid leader was very clear, everybody was really nice (and there was no drama from the one crazy person in raid) and overall it was a pleasant experience, even if I was a bit shy about taking any loot. xD

If I can get into the occasional raid for shiggles, awesome. It’s still not going to be my focus, but poking at this content every so often with people that are patient and in it for the fun, not progression, has been great. Unfortunately there’s the issue of scheduling.

This also leads me to consider my gearing options. Right now, my 80s are Matojo (Warrior), Bellerona (Warlock), Kombeya (Mage), Kinuka (Hunter), Dybo (Rogue), Gahiji (Death Knight) and Grindal (Priest). I most enjoy DPSing as a Warlock and Death Knight (though watching mage crits is about as thrilling as warlock crits), and then I have the Warrior for tanking and Priest for healing (eventually I’ll have a Druid and Shaman).

For PuGs, my poor priest needs more regen and stronger bubbles. Matojo just needs to keep generating insane rage and more threat. The other two? DAMAGE DAMAGE DAMAGE.

I think I’m on the road to  going back to gearing my toons again.

Adventures in Lowbie PvP, or: How Matojo Lost Her Effing Mind

Last night, Reislyn’s transfer from Zul’jin to Thorium Brotherhood went through. While she was still on ZJ she had become a bit of a low-level PvP alt, and was running around AB and WSG healing her brains out – this worked out well. It was fun, because people in lowbie battlegrounds don’t tend to waste all of their time and energy bashing one another’s strategies, and because I… actually had a chance. I didn’t insta-splat. Shield, heal, psychic scream, no worrying about resilience and that, just being tricky.

When I moved her, I had purchased the ring and … cloak, I think, from the WSG vendor and after transfer I purchased the boots from the AB vendor. The items are cheap blues (ranging from 100 honour to 800 honour for level 28) and so, so juicy, stats-wise.

Hell, I even re-specced her to nab some PvP talents.

Back to last night. I hopped into the queue after purchasing my goodies and was sorta dreading winding up in WSG, but I did. And I… had… fun.

I had fun in WSG.

I had fun in WSG.

I decided to just stick to crowds to keep my squishy ass safe. Operation Annoy The Alliance was deployed and I ran around healing fellow Horde, dotting Alliance, shielding myself and just overall being irritating by not dying. At least, until the Alliance decided that I had to die.

I shouted IC taunts, I feared, I dotted, I healed, I shielded and all in all I had a fucking great time. Yeah, we lost both 30-minute battles, but we fought so damn hard it was just amazing.

*steeples her fingers*

In yer BGs, eatin' yer noobs.

[Event][Thorium Brotherhood] COME ONE & ALL TO GRIN’DAL’S BRAG & BRAWL! May 14, 8:00pm!

(( A slightly overweight Troll with a large, orange mohawk stands atop the highest point in each of the Horde capital cities to make the following announcement, once per week, at 5:00pm SHARP every evening. His voice is loud, his manner of dress is rather flamboyantly Trollish and he often punctuates his statements with winks and grins. ))

Ladies and Gents and Not-So-Gents, lend me your ears!

Dis be Grin’dal Darkspear talkin’ and do I, oh do I, gotta deal for you!

De jungle be a harsh, harsh place with lotsa things with sharp teeth and sharp weapons to jab ya wit’, but for one day a week you can forget all a’ dat and come on down by de water to enjoy a l’il somethin’-somethin’. What’s dat, you askin’?

Come join me on de day of de fourteenth of May at eight bells in de bay outside Grom’gol – just a short Zeppelin ride ‘way from Orgrimmar or de Undercity! – for a bit o’ boozin’, fightin’ and braggin’. Dat’s right, folks, it’s:

Grin’dal’s Beach Brag ‘n Brawl!

Bring you friends, you enemies and family! Bring you own booze or buy what I got! Prepare all you best stories an’ prepare youself for a good warm-up ’cause, guess what? I’m a no-rules, no-holds-barred kinda guy! Whether you wanna watch, heckle or participate, you welcome to drop on by!

So join me on Friday de fourteenth at eight an’ don’t be shy!

(( Grin’dal’s Beach Brag ‘n Brawl! Here’s what it’s about:

When: Friday May 14, 2010
How Often: TBA
Time: 8:00pm ST (9:00pm EST) until 10:00pm ST (11:00pm EST) (People are welcome to continue brawling and drinking and Grin will be selling drinks as long as he’s there, that’s an approximate so folks know a timeline. )

Grin’s Beach Brag ‘n Brawl is a mix of tavern, fight “ring” (or coast) and bragging contest. If dueling isn’t your thing, mingle and watch the duels – cheer on your favourite combatant! – or stick around for the braggery.

Brawl: No rules, one-on-one duels. Participants decide whether they’re going to go all-out with full armour & weapons or if it’s going to be fist fights. Note that Grin’dal does not fight, he is a lazy motherfucker and is more of a lover than a fighter. Feel free to bet amongst yourselves, Grin will pretend he doesn’t see what’s going on. Grin’dal will be available to heal fighters’ wounds after combat, and if there is demand he will be taking orders for elixirs and flasks.

Brag: At some point in the evening, Grin’dal will announce that the Bragging Contest will begin – at this point, the only prize being an inflated ego. He will select two participants out of the volunteers and he will choose which braggart will begin. The selected braggart will announce why he is so great (“I have the keenest eyes in all of Orgrimmar!” for example) and his competitor will counter (“Funny then, how you didn’t see me on the roof of the bank with your mother! I once shot the fly off a Night Elf’s nose when he was in Ratchet and I was atop the tower of the Crossroads!”) – the back-and-forth continues until one of the braggarts concedes defeat. Creative use of insults, puns, “your mother” jokes, etc. are encouraged. In cases where the only retorts consist of insults with no counter-brag, Grin’dal will declare the winner himself. Braggarts MUST counter with more bragging! That’s the point! The more ridiculous, the better.

Booze! Grin’dal will bring a supply of strong booze, because strong booze is the best there is. If he can get his hands on Darkmoon Ale, he’ll be selling at one silver each. Otherwise, depending on what he brings, booze will range from 1s-4s each. Feel free to bring your own drinks if you have a preference because there won’t be much variety.

Do you have goods or services you’d like to hawk? Inform Grin’dal – via the PM system on thoriumbrotherhood.net (Matojo!), an in-game letter, via e-mail at erebusterror@hotmail.com or in-person at the event – and he’ll yell all about you! This is not mandatory. You are welcome to show up and do your own advertising as well!

I hope to see you there! ))

[Journal][Tuhina] Changing Tides

[ Most of Tuhina's journal is located here. Tuhina is - or was - a Warlock on Thorium Brotherhood. This is to explain why she's going to disappear off the server 'til Cataclysm. ]

As I use – and perhaps abuse – Fel Magic more and more, I find that it becomes harder to see. The physicians in Silvermoon tell me that channeling Demonic energies much longer will rob me of my sight and my health. If Grub is still alive out there, somewhere, and I keep this up, I will probably die long before he returns home.

Perhaps that is what gave me pause, that understanding, as I sat and thought about it upon returning to the flat that I recently re-rented. I moved back to Silvermoon, sans much of the belongings I had accumulated over the past two years, at the end of January. Its familiarity and garishness is comforting, in a way, despite the lack of friendly Trolls. With everyone in Northrend it has grown quiet.

That… is fine by me.

[ The entry continues in slightly darker ink. ]

I have asked my previous trainers for a favour – I want nothing more to do with the Demonic, nor with Fel. The process of eliminating the results of my training from my body will take a long time, and I will never fully recover from it all.

I will also require the aid of a shaman or druid to cleanse my body. I refuse to have a Light-stooshing wielding zealot such as that half-elven mongrel woman lay a hand on me.

The months have seen me grow weak of body but stronger of will. Once all that binds me to the Demons at my command is eliminated, I will be returning to the Colonel to see about physical training and, perhaps, discuss with the magisters the possibility of returning to my original vocation.

Rest, and more tea.

With the Lich King now dead, all I can do is wait. If he ever comes back, I’ll still be waiting. If he doesn’t

[ The entry tr

Matojo: On Leading the Charge

[ If anybody makes it through this and understands what he's said? You get a cookie. ]

De name’s Matojo Furiey. Ah’m a soldiah, Ah’m gonna be a daddeh fo’ de Loas-know-how-maneh-time again wit’ de love a’ mah life, an’ Ah’m a grumpeh ol’ bastahd.

Ah’m an impo’tant paht a’ mah unit.

Ah lead de chahge inta dangah.

Dat’s mah job, joo know? Ah’m de fella wit’ de goggles an’ de big fuck-off shield. Joo don’ get ‘tween me an’ dem, joo good. Ah stay standin’ an’ dat’s how joo know t’ings is gonna be okeh. Joo gimme time ta piss dem off, evereht’in’ be fine.

It’s scareh as shit, knowin’ dat if Ah screw up, t’ings gonna go crazeh, so Ah do mah best ta stay good an’ pissed off. De moment joo let joo feah take ovah, joo’s fucked an’ den joo fucked joor team. ‘s alsah scareh relyin’ on folks dat’joo don’ know – de fella keepin’ joo standin’. Joo dunno if he gonna fuck up, neit’ah – he could get joo killed.

Dat’s de knowledge joo go inta battle wit’ evereh day when joo leadin’ de chahge. It’s dis big-ass gahdamn suhge a’ ‘drenalin dat get joo goin’ an’ keep joo goin’ t’rough de whole t’ing.

Dat’s why Ah keep doin’ it. De rush. De rush, an’ knowin’ dat, dis time, Ah can do shit. Ah ain’ some sisseh huntah dat stand back no moah. Ah’m in de t’ick a’ t’ings now.

An’ if anehbodeh mess wit’me, Ah fuck dem up.

What Ah do? It ain’ nice – but Ah’m damn good at it.

[ Matojo is a level 78 Warrior on Thorium Brotherhood and has been tanking since he started at level 62. I run randoms on him on occasion, and I've never received so many compliments on a single character - apparently, he really is good. ICly, he's a heavily-scarred, heavy-drinking, womanizing bastard that is currently deeply involved with a Darkspear girl and is expecting a baby. He's toned down a bit over the years, but his mischievous nature continues to ring true no matter what he's doing or where he is.

I love this character. ]

RP Fail.

I wish people weren’t so private with their RP and actually RPed randomly instead of only in their guild setting. Lots of good RPers who ignore random RP.

~ Member of RP Community

Oh, really?

I would have more stock in this if it was from somebody that didn’t demonstrate trollish behaviour on the official forums, who didn’t frequently create guilds for the sake of “saving” RP on my server and who didn’t play a Tauren banshee with mechanical legs at one time or another.

I guess I’m an elitist!

When I actually stick my face out into the crowd, I do my best to include strangers, random RPers, even people I don’t like (assuming they aren’t the people that have caused me a ton of grief, those people can go fuck themselves with a rusty fork).

“But Matojo!” You cry, “People privatising RP is a big problem! Something has to be done! RP is dying!”

Really now?

I think the bigger problem is the Chicken Little Syndrome.

Allow me to explain.

Chicken Little Syndrome is when members of a server’s Roleplay community – usually individuals with a reputation as attention-seekers (much nicer description than what I was originally going to type) or people that have never done anything but complain, anyway – begin to cry out that RP on the server is dead, it needs saving, oh woe is the RP. They blame the cliques, they blame the PvPers, they blame the raiders, they blame everyone and everything under the sun.

Yet, when I’ve seen these individuals at events (namely, The Drunken Kodo, I have yet to see them at The Refuge’s Campfire), their interaction with other people consists of talking to themselves in their own language, or simply making a rude remark or two and not really trying to engage others, among other behaviours that don’t encourage characters to try to interact with them.

When the local RP Hermit (Me) can happily poke and prod at people when she shows up to things, there is a problem. That problem isn’t the server, in that case, nor is it the community.

Guess what?

RP requires effort on the part of the individual. There is nothing wrong with RPers sticking to their guilds if that’s what makes them happy, and the more that people complain, the less likely we are to poke our heads out.

Also consider this: People like me, who have been playing for a long time, have also had a large share of drama of our own. We’ve learned what type of people are more likely to create problems and, as such, we strive to avoid that. If one finds people actively avoiding RP with them (and I mean, completely ignoring their actions and refusing to speak to them if the setting isn’t insanely busy like many public events are), the problem may not be them. The problem may be you.

The saying is “once bitten, twice shy”. I’ve been bitten before, so have members of my guild. We are tired of bullshit so we’re very careful of who we let in – at least, to the Big Stuff – but we still ask that you aren’t afraid to approach us when you see us sitting around a campfire and boozing. Yes, the Harbingers of War are tight-knit and a clique of a fashion, but all guilds are, and we’re also fairly easy to get along with.

Generally, this is the case with most RP guilds if other people are willing to put in the effort.

My point is this: RP never, ever, ever just comes to you. It requires effort, it requires care and hard work. It’s something that, if you try, if you work at it, it will yield great rewards – but if you spend a lot of time b’awwwing about the lack of it, all you’ll do is continue to push it away.

Want to make guilds? Great, develop a story, advertise, pimp, openly recruit, be loud and be proud.

Don’t make it your personal mission to “save” RP anywhere – that just turns people off. RP for the sake of RPing and leave it at that. If you play a character that isn’t very social, don’t complain about lack of RP – develop some characters that are or concoct a reason for that character to speak up. Does he have strong opinions? Maybe s/he pulls something stupid or inherits a pet or magical object that just doesn’t agree with him.

Most of all?

BE CREATIVE.

Bitching? Gets you nowhere.

Bad Matojo, no bikkit. Stop cannibalizing your own Godsdamned community.

Adventures in Healing: Level 58-64 With Masamba the Restoration Shaman

A week away from home has been bad for my nerves and postings, let’s see if we can get back into the swing of things in start for a brand new year!

As soon as Masamba hit level 58 I dropped back into Orgrimmar, gave him dual spec and immediately nabbed him some starter Restoration/Elemental gear. I dashed to Thrallmar to pick up some quests, then immediately hit the queue for Hellfire Ramparts – which popped right after I confirmed that yes, I wanted to wait in line to be some random group’s healer. My very first instance run in Outland, as a healy shammy, went smoothly and I won some gear.

The Legacy items that I have for Masamba (mail chest and shoulders, plus the PvP one-hand spellpower mace) make gearing absolute cake and provide nice bonuses in the stat and experience boost departments; an extra 20% increase to experience gains on top of rested XP is nothin’ to shake a stick at.

So far, the majority of my forays have ended up in Hellfire Ramparts, with two runs each of Blood Furnace, Slave Pens and Underbog. There have been some groups that I would love to run with over and over again (one in particular that was lead by a female Tauren DK where everybody in the group was sad that LFG wouldn’t let us queue for another instance ’cause some of us were 62 while the others were 65). So far, I’m happy enough with LFG that I’m quite willing to level right to 80 using it – and I just might.

Also, I am loving my Resto Shaman. 2010 may be the Year of the Shaman for me – I want to hit 80 and gear up like, right now.

The Good:

• Most groups have been competent, with only a handful of incidents where I was required to be a jerk in order to get a point across.
• Gear has been easy to come by, though I am still in need of some upgrades.
• Questing hasn’t been a necessity – I’ve only hit up a small number of quests in Hellfire Peninsula.
• Crit-happy shaman with relatively high mana regen = not much downtime, quick recovery from crazy pulls.

The Bad:

• Ramparts, Ramparts, Ramparts. Seriously, LFG, you can put me into other instances.
• Sometimes, people don’t pay attention to party chat. Protip: If your healer isn’t following you, check party chat for an AFK message.
• Despite decent regen – IF YOU ARE DPS SPECCED BUT TANKING ANYWAY, YOU WILL BE HIT HARDER AND THEREFORE HARDER TO HEAL, SO STOP AND LET YOUR DAMN HEALER DRINK EVERY SO OFTEN.

What I’ve Learned:

• Nobody notices the fact that I’ve been dropping Stoneskin instead of Strength of Earth to compensate for tanks that don’t have the Toughness talent.
• Chain Heal is Godly.
• Earth Shield is Godly.
• I’m just as likely to forget my weapon buff as I am to forget Inner Fire.
• Riptide + Nature’s Swiftness + Chain Heal = new favourite “OH SHIT” combination (thanks to Sankareth for that one)
• I enjoy healing as a shaman, possibly moreso than as a Disc Priest (the world is ending, onoes)

Overall, the Shaman LFG Experiment has been proving successful and I’m hoping he’ll hit 70 by the weekend.