Monthly Archives: January 2010

Finding the Seal

We ran through the dark, damp underbelly of the city – light drew long shadows across smooth wet brick, encrusted with moss and slime. We’ve run for an hour. Fought hordes of Kobolds trying to seal the entrance to the hobgoblins because they were enslaving them. Acid bolds scorched my armor – magic missiles dissipated against my magic night shield. Their blood slick across the sharp edges of our weapons and deaths – blood staining our armor and skin.

We hacked ourselves through a city of hobgoblins underground lair. Freeing their apathetic slaves that kept on milling around, unaware that their masters had been destroyed at our hands. We felt the hard blow of the earth elementals as we crushed their living rock. We killed the hobgoblin leader surrounded by spell casters, slayers and wolfs. They danced as the sphere cast it’s reflective irresistible light. The sundered, smoldered and burnt by the force of the casters fireball. And they died. Guttural thick cries of death as the Warforge and other fighters slew them – cut through their thick skin with deadly accuracy.

For all the traps trying to keep us away from the seal – the pain. The fires. Limbs healed from the crust of seared skin. The frozen armor breaking off at touch. We mended, healed – always moving forward. Our breaths, plumes of heavy exhales as the air grew thin and rancid. We dropped down. Pulled the final wheel. Dropped on feather fall wings onto the floor. There – at the pedestal. The grumbled heaps of rocks – but that was not the guardian. It rose as we stepped forward. Our forms blurred by magic – our resolve plated with shields of faith. Our warriors charged – we healers flung our wands to mortar any break, to repair any crack and to undo bruises, tears and gashing wounds. The guardians mighty club flung us across the room. Bodies slammed into walls. Broken bones unbroke and gritted warriors rose to challenge death again. So the guardian fell – and so did  the other elementals too.

We found the seal.

There – in a circular room, steam rising from our armor and skins. Breath shallow and rapid. The long run – seemed so far away. Despite not having a rogue to remove traps. Despite the pain. Despite the challenge of almost certain death we rose to it. We didn’t say much as we walked all the way to the surface again. We didn’t say much when we parted. We didn’t split up in all directions to go and brag to our peers. Not like I might have done in my past life.

The warforge nodded. Then we were off. I went to the nearby tavern and found myself an empty chair in the corner. Taking greedy gulps for the best whine of the house. I relish life.

We are but three left from the old Guild. So we started a new one.

True Reborn. That we are.

Life – as it seem – reflecting the old. Reliving anew. Feeling alive.

I have a feeling

It’s not the catchy Black Eyed Peas kind of feeling – more like a – this is going to end badly kind of feeling.

I’ve been around the block. Call me a fast learner. I know enough about bad signs to tell when something can be salvaged by excellent game play or when something is going to end up bleed SP dry and eventually get everyone killed.

You can’t account for the unforeseen – like the disintegration of a pivotal party member when they wasn’t suppose to die. A good party can save the day. A bad one falls apart.

I don’t like to leave quests – before they start or in the middle, but with experience I realize when that point is and I don’t feel like wasting my time in confirming the obvious.

I like support – being the healer, support, nuker – a kind of pivotal all rounded that can slap some faces too. What I don’t like is poor leadership that ignore good advice.

Before I True Reincarnated I ran with a group of experienced players. We played Wizard King. They zerged ahead – I told them I hadn’t done the quest and I tried to stay within range so I could heal. But the very same leader who dismissed me also went far ahead and continued take a lot of hits and the same people scattered before I could buff them. But he dismissed me. I don’t take offence – some people just are too arrogant to understand just how poor their basic leadership is. While you can blame someone for letting you die – but if you’re the one who lets it happen over and over – well then I’d say that you have a basic problem that can’t be blamed on a lone healer.

But then you have those who start groups, run quests they’ve never done before and take no advice from anyone when the party is being put together. Like running tempest spine, just to have the leader not know how to create a raid group – then refuse to listen to advice from experienced members and keep letting people into the raid who can’t really add much to the bottom line. Like 3-4 rogues when you need at least 2-3 healers. At the point I was the only healer and the group was basically full I said good bye. I’m not – as a level 7 caster with 700 SP going to heal an entire raid of very squishy members. I understand inexperience, but I drawn the line when the leader or whomever refuse to listen to others advice; especially when that same leader haven’t done the quest yet.

I understand experienced players lack of patience with new players and I understand the frustration of not knowing a quest – but it’s a fair thing to believe that if your healer is level 20 that he knows what he’s doing – so maybe if stuff goes wrong it’s not JUST the healer or if you don’t know what you’re doing maybe rely on others.

It’s a game of working as a team and group – raids or quests you can’t solo are not who gets to the end boss first wins type of quests. If all you want is to knock skulls and have nothing to do with others, then I suggest you PvP so maybe someone else can knock some sense into you.


In my past life I eyed each turn with suspicion. I didn’t know what hid in the shadows, lurked in the gloom and peered at me from within the dark corners of each dungeon. I do now. In my past life I didn’t know my limits – we grouped together and ran into the unknown hordes, drunk on the previous victories to limp back out broken bodied. Crimson blood pouring over the moaning lips of comrades clinging to their friends shoulders. The dead flung over backs and warforges soulless vessels beyond repair dragging trails from the gates of our demise, hiding our defeat from others.

Sometimes we drank and boasted our deeds. Other times we sulked in our drinks. Such is the luck and draw of eager adventures looking for fame, glory and coins.

Now I know. The road. While things change; the kobold chief chattering in one dungeon replaced by another in the endless succession of critters wanting to rule and destroy – just to be defeated by someone stronger or adventurers like myself.

The Kobolds have Assaulted the gates. It’s not the first time. Their numbers far exceed their mental capacity and by the share number that I’ve broken and have been broken by others, you’d think they give up.

The place stink with their rotten carcasses. Yet they drive for the gate with the fervor and hiss of fanatics. Their shamen unleashes deadly magic – acid, curses, lightning, magic missiles and dark clouds meant to hide them from pursuit. Their skirmishers throw fire bombs at you. Claws, poles and knives stab at you from warriors and chieftains.

I’m stopped in the street. The soldier asks me as he leans at the fountain holding his tender ribcage with a grin. He implore me to gather a group of adventures and brave the storm.

I eye him – and he drops his eyes from the intensity of my emerald gaze. ‘I will do it’.

I summon dogs from hell and I sweep across the hordes storming the gate with my sword gleaming of pure good.

I let the wizard I hired stay in the background and guard the gate – smashing bodies apart with fireballs, while I hack with gritted teeth through the first wave of reptilians, running in fear as the hell hound sprays them with corrosive breath and destroys them with phantasmal power.

30 minutes later with the grime and life essence of 200 critters on my armor I walk out from the gates to the guard that hired me.

My armor slightly scratched and dented. The halo of my re-birth a blue hue in the morning light. I wash my face in the fountain and move on. He hands me a sword, but I shake my head. I didn’t do it to gain coins as there’s little value in what he offers. I did it to rebuild who I am and was in the eyes of the city.

My memories of the past delve in the obscure; I remember my past deeds as a man looking through a amber thick glass. I remember knowing how to unlock doors, chests and disable traps. But no more. I am a Favored Soul. My goals and wishes purified by purpose. Yet I miss it – so it feels. I miss what I could do. But the feeling fades away as someone else in need flags my attention.


There’s a wind rippling across the waves in the harbor. Drifting clouds haste the sky. I am different now. I used to have blue skin, dark hair and red eyes. I used to be a Drow.

I’m human now – red beard and hair. Dark sunburned skin and light green eyes. I reincarnated. I once roamed the Orchards and the Vale with the share power of my knowledge and divine magic. I once wielded powerful items and weapons.

I’m weaker – stronger than the first time, but weaker. My power a fraction of how it used to be. My favor with the houses but a drop in the bucket of the fame and fortune I once enjoyed.

That is how it is – watching the sinking sun dipping it’s glowing cornea into the bloody sea. Blazing firey Orange turning into purple then star lit sky. Soft wind.

Reborns. Stronger. I see them.

They like me reincarnated but did so a long time ago. Amongst the first to embrace the kiss of change. The run past me. On the go. Magic crackling from their drawn swords, staffs and runes glowing with power on their armor or robes. I was once them. And one day will be again.

It just takes longer. The road up the hill much steeper. Each struggle more painful. But easier in a sense.

I’m on my way again. One step at the time. One day I will be standing overlooking the ruins of the Vale and run with a smile down the broken roads and charge the deadly critters who roam it’s lands. One day they will fear my name again. Shriek as I break their bodies and saves the day. They will attack me with the fury of beasts then run in terror as I tear their souls from the twitching bodies.

But not today. Today I watch the sun die with the sweat and blood drying into my skin from my recent hunt in the harbor. I’m so far away from the outskirts of the dangerous world that threaten to crush the city. Here and now I mop up the lowly vermin who have seaped into the cracks of the city armor but doesn’t really have the strength to destroy it. That’s me.

You’re out there collecting dragon scales, sulphur stones and power shards. You’re readying youself to venture into the battlefield of Shavarath or unlocking the epic power of your spectral gloves. I once did. Made myself a cloak. Brimming with the power of divine force. Enhancing the aspect of my wisdom. But I cannot yet use it. I have not learned to understand its true nature again.

Woe the day creatures of dark and evil when I do. Fear the return. You laugh now. But one day you will mourn your numbers at my hand.

One day.