Archive for February, 2009»
The Levels Are Building Up
Still tearing through Evendim with my lil’ hobbitey warden. He hit level 39 tonight, which is not that far away from where Galadhalion was when he started really running into trouble — and that’s got me nervous. It may just be “once bitten, twice shy,” but I keep having this paranoia that any time now, probably when he gets to Angmar, Maedhroc’s going to suddenly stop being effective against much of anything.
But assuming that doesn’t happen, I’m going to have to start thinking about what my plan for the higher levels will be. I’d really like that Rift armor set for Maedhroc, but I haven’t even succeeded at getting Galadhalion to the Rift, much less successfully grinding it for an armor set. Am I looking at a long slog of begging, pleading, or bribing people to go to the Rift with me starting at level 50?
And what about Moria? It’d be nice to catch up with the rest of the Valar Guild who’ve been tromping around Moria and presumably having fun (since they keep doing it) — which I’m not going to have much luck doing if I’m busy killing Thaurlach over and over again.
Still, that’s stuff I’ll deal with when I get to it. The game is still beautiful, and I’m still really enjoying Maedhroc, so there’s no good reason to be having Gamer Anxiety, is there?
Besides, I’m a warden. I can solo balrogs. ;)
-The Gneech
Life of a Bounder, Part VI
Almost caught up!
December 28, 2008
Maedhroc sent some pretty good ones this time!At the summit of Weathertop with a kinmate. That’s a heck of a climb!
Those squirrels just get everywhere, don’t they?
Maedhroc’s moving up in the world — he’s got his own pony! Too bad his own “forced march” skill is faster. Must be one of Bill Ferny’s nags.
Fear the hobbit with bagpipes!
-The Gneech
The Hole In Your Soul
There’s a hole in your soul
where the good thoughts never go
and the hole is made of bones
that are gnawed by a mole
who lives in the hole
at the bottom of your soul
And the mole has a phone
and he calls when you’re alone
But the tone of his phone
is a lonely hollow groan
And when you answer the phone
when you’re called by the mole
who lives in the hole
at the bottom of your soul
where the good thoughts never go
you just moan ’cause you know
that he’s down there all alone
in a hole made of bones
-The Gneech
(Originally posted to my LiveJournal.)
Life of a Bounder, Part V
Only three more and we’ll be caught up!
December 26, 2008
Nobody who grew up in the Shire hasn’t heard of this guy. When Maedhroc was a bounder, he was actually tasked with keeping an eye on “that dangerous old fool,” although they only spoke once and Gandalf didn’t seem to remember him.
Speaking of dangerous old fools, it appears to be Wizard Week for Maedhroc. Let’s just hope he doesn’t meet Saruman next.
-The Gneech
Life of a Bounder, Part IV
Only a month behind now. Soon it’ll be current!
December 20, 2008
Maedhroc finds himself, much against his will, being taken further and further from the Shire. He’s seeing lots of places he’s only heard about from his old gaffer, but for the most part, they were places he was content to have only heard about — like the Old Forest, where he met this bizarre fellow.Hey dol, derry dol, what-the-hooey-are-you-saying???
Then he’s sent eastward as a messenger boy for the rangers. Did he really work his way to Honourary Shirriff just to end up delivering mail again? But at least he got to see some sights along the way.
We’re on the wrong side of the Misty Mountains for Erebor — that must be the famous Weathertop.
Yup, that’s Weathertop all right.
What’s next, delivering pies to Rivendell?
Meanwhile, half a continent away, Galadhalion comes to the unhappy realization that Moria has sewers, and he’s in them.
Don’t step in balrog scat, whatever you do. 0.o
-The Gneech
Fictionlet
Greg blinked, bleary-eyed, as Brigid came wandering in. “Oy,” said Brigid. “You look like I feel.”
“Had a rough night,” Greg said. “Ozymandias kept walking all over me; then at the very first glimmer of dawn, he started stomping on my head. I’m surprised I don’t have pawprints all over my face.”
“Heh,” said Brigid. “Reminds me of the old joke about corduroy pillows.”
“Corduroy pillows? What old joke about corduroy pillows?”
“Oh, come on,” said Brigid. “Surely you’ve heard the joke about corduroy pillows, Mr. Bon Mot.”
“This is the first I’ve ever heard of such a thing,” Greg said, blinking in surprise. “How does it go?”
Brigid shrugged and said, “Have you heard about the new corduroy pillows? They’re making headlines!”
Greg, apparently attempting to play along, replied, “No, I haven’t. Please tell me about the new corduroy pillows.”
Brigid blinked. “Uh, no. That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“That’s the joke.”
“But you haven’t said anything.”
“No, no, that’s the joke. ‘Have you heard about the new corduroy pillows. They’re. Making. Headlines.'”
Greg shook his head, brow furrowed. “I don’t think you get how a joke is supposed to work,” he said. “You deliver a setup, then a punchline. All you’ve got there is a setup. So there’s new corduroy pillows that are getting a lot of press. Okay. So now you’ve got to follow that up with a punchline.”
“That is the punchline, doofus. They’re making headlines.”
“Why is being in the newspaper funny?”
Brigid smacked her palm to her face. “Look,” she said. “You go to sleep on a corduroy pillow, you wake up with lines on your face, right?”
“If you say so,” said Greg.
“Well, there you go. You’ve got headlines. From the corduroy pillow. It’s not in the newspaper, it’s on your face!”
“Then shouldn’t it be, ‘they’re making facelines?'”
“But then there wouldn’t be a joke!” said Brigid.
“There isn’t a joke now!” said Greg.
“Forget it,” said Brigid, heading back for the hallway. “I’m chucking today in and calling for a do-over.”
-The Gneech
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