“Wow, never seen that before!”

Kuron had been hearing that a lot lately. Between his new magical items, the drawings of the weird creatures of discord he’d been showing people, that one time his pants unexpectedly dropped in the bazaar, and most recently when he’d showed the strange black ore to the smith Korbuk recommended.

The smith ran her scaly fingers over the ore and went on to describe it’s remarkable density. She tossed it gingerly between her hands like a carnival juggler and shook her head. Kuron stiffened his lips. Everything running through her head had already tired its little legs in the heads of Korbuk and Kuron only hours ago. Why was it so light? How was it so strong while being so light? How could it have come from an Ukun’s……leavings?

The smith didn’t ask these questions, however. Kuron was thankful for this, and was glad Korbuk had recommended her now. It’s hard to find smiths who don’t ask questions when you bring them strange minerals from other planes of existence. Go figure. With a grin, the smith grabbed Kuron’s canteen from his belt and headed for the forge.

Smith: “Pardon me, but I am REALLY thirsty all of a sudden. I think I have an idea of what Korbuk is looking for, but frankly I’m just really interested to work with this! I’ll be right back.”

Kuron waited only a short while for the smith to return. Kuron hadn’t dealt with many Iksar, and had dealt with even fewer females regardless of race, but the look in the eyes of the smith as she sauntered back up to him could not be mistaken. She was giddy.

Smith: “This metal was….amazing! There’s no describing how easy it was to work with. I’ve never seen or worked with anything like it! The way the hammer and flames worked this metal was…otherworldly! It’s like it was MEANT to be in the form it is now!”

She presented a blackened sword blade to Kuron. Although unadorned and in the most basic of shapes, the blade had something very special about it. It was like staring at a slumbering beast. Although at rest and in the most unimposing states a great power was still present – hidden and dormant. The craftsmanship was flawless. The blade was perfectly straight, wondrously sharp, and both cold and hot to the touch at the same time. Kuron thanked the smith, who would accept no payment other than to be allowed a moment to caress the blade one last time. Much to Kuron’s discomfort.

When Kuron returned to Korbuk he seemed annoyingly unimpressed with the wonderful craftsmanship. He rolled it around in his large hands as if inspecting a child’s broken toy.

Korbuk: “Oh it’s done? Yea pretty good work. Dat’s what I was thinkin’ of when I saw da ore, but dis definitely isn’t da sword I was lookin’ for. We gotta finish makin’ it I guess for it to be…”

Korbuk’s eyes rolled back into his head as a knowing grin slowly crept over Kuron’s face.

Kuron: “Where to next?” he chuckled.

Korbuk: “Heh. Dis vision showed me a wicked gauntlet holding da magnificently-jeweled hilt of a powerful sword. It’s grip tightened as it swung the sword at an opponent, cleaving trough its shield and helmet in one blow. I couldn’t see anyting of da weapon but da hilt and da hand holdin’ it – but when da sword struck it made dat same ring of metal we both know pretty well by now.”

Korbuk tapped his gauntlet on the newly-crafted blade and nodded, the ring sounded even more loudly this time.

Kuron: “So we need more of th’ ore t’ make a hilt now?”

Korbuk seemed unsure, and pawed at the base of the blade as if for an answer. A flicker of his eyes showed Kuron he had found one.

Korbuk: “I see a creature… bloated… loathsome. Da guy wit da sword is fightin’ it… he ain’t doing well. Every time he slashes at it da thing consumes shadows and heals instantly. I see him trip… he’s getting worried… he’s scared. Da ting is feeding off somethin’ now… eating shadows… eating his fear… I see it’s mouth getting closer… wider…”

Korbuk grimaces and comes to his senses.

Korbuk: “Da hilt… is inside dis creature… in a place called da Bloodfields…”

Kuron stared at him, confused and a bit worried.

Kuron: “I guess we’ll need some friends?”

In the past games came out and people enjoyed them, and then in addition to enjoying the game people also played the PVP version (assuming it had one). Today, this is no longer the case. New games are announced to be in development and are instantly bombarded with questions about PVP, balancing, and freedoms therein.

I have a problem with this. It used to be that in a game you used your skills playing that game by it’s own inherit rules and guidelines to show said skill in the field of battle against others. Now games are developed wholly with PVP in mind right from the get-go. No longer do we see a finely tuned game with optional PVP. Now we have a half-assed single player experience because the game was built with balancing in mind for PVP.

This is one of the major issues I had that made me quit WoW. At WoW’s introduction, PVP was a joke. It was an optional thing you did with very little to no reward. And yet, still it was fun. You’d run into a specific class and, based on your own class or gear, know IMMEDIATELY if it was even worth trying to beat them. Sometimes you decided you’d stick around anyway to discover they have no idea how to play their class, and even though their class has a huge advantage over yours, their lack of skill seals their fate in your favor. THIS IS HOW PVP SHOULD ALWAYS BE MEASURED – IN SKILL. You win some, you lose some, and it’s not always the person’s class, abilities or gear that is the determining factor.

People who felt they had the AUTOMATIC RIGHT to solo anyone and never be damaged, challenged, or have their feelings hurt started huge petitions to cure the “injustice” Blizzard had handed them. The forums exploded with unwarranted bitching (the only way to describe it). Blizzard responded with revisiting/rebalancing classes and abilities so that situations like “Oh, he’s a Paladin, I might need help” would never exist again.

Here’s where I became angry: THEY WERE UNIVERSAL CHANGES. Allow me to clarify – The changes made effected both the PVP and PVE environments. Suddenly some of the abilities I used had extra little stuns, bleeds, procs, and other effects that had absolutely no application in the PVE experience whatsoever, and in some cases made the abilities annoying or pointless. Of course the changes kept coming, and in some cases whole classes were entirely revamped turning them into something completely different – ALL for PVP reasons. That’s just inexcusable.

I have presented the point many times that WoW could be JUST AS POPULAR IF NOT MORE if they’d only separate the two aspects of the game. Make PVP only and PVE only servers so that you can be free to balance/revisit any class or ability you want and the changes to the two aspects won’t effect each other. The PVP in WoW is shoehorned in at best as it stands, it doesn’t fit with any lore in any believable way I can fathom, and it crowds PVE servers with useless kids that have no idea how to play their class in raiding.

Another way PVP has adversely effected PVE in WoW is in the armor models and weapons. Before the PVP infection took over you were able to look at someone’s armor and know EXACTLY where it came from, how hard someone worked for it, and who dropped it. Nowadays the models for armor are shared between 3 or more sources. PVP armor looks exactly the same as high-end raiding armor. There is NO excuse for this at all. The only way you could get away with this and not present the feeling of wasted efforts – IS TO SEPARATE THE REALMS! EUREKA!

I quit WoW for the second time almost 2 years ago now, and it has changed even more since I left. My friends that still play tell me that classes are basically turning into generalized clones of each other. All classes are getting some variety of the same ability. “This class gets “A” so we should also get “A” because that’s an unfair advantage!”. So ignorant. And that’s what’s happening to nearly every new game I’ve been following the development of – rabid PVP infections.

PVP can be a lot of fun…if it’s actually based on skill. Everyone needs to realize that during PVP someone is going to die, and that it’s ok if it might be themselves. It’s just a game, kids. Instead of complaining because “Class A” has an ability that can “instantly kill you” – how about you find a way to work around that using YOUR OWN abilities instead of trying to change the world so you can feel better about yourself? If you can’t handle the fact that classes are diverse and that you MIGHT have to think about what you need to do as well as actually be good at your own class in order to defeat someone in a PVP situation – shut your computer off and go read a book, you damn kids.

Darwin!

Korbuk: “Just take it with you!”

Kuron: “I dinna understand!”

Korbuk: “Am I speaking Ogre, or do you just not speak Common?”

Kuron: “I dinna understand what it’s got t’ do with anythin! It’s jist a rock!”

Korbuk: “I can’t explain it. Before I found you I found dis rock, and I just couldn’t leave it behind. I had a vision of someone carryin’ it around, but it wasn’t me, and den I saw some creature, and den I saw a forge.”

Kuron: “And then ye saw a another bottle tipped t’word yer drunken smile!”

Korbuk: “Real funny. Would ya please just take dis and get going! I’m gonna stay here and try ta figure out da rest of da vision while you look around.”

Kuron: “Bah, Fine! Gimme th’ stupid pebble…”

Just as night fell, and before he knew it, Kuron found himself following a glowing path leading him through the forest emanating from Korbuk’s rock. It really worked! He stumbled a bit as he trudged on, holding the stone at arm’s length, where was this thing leading him? As he came into a clearing the stone hummed and glowed with a new intensity, but Kuron could see nothing. Using his other senses, however, it was easy to tell he was not the only one nearby. Smells and sounds from some vicious creature were thick in the clearing. Kuron doused the rock and concentrated on his breastplate, fading from view just as the creature thrased its way through a nearby shrub.

It look like a very large man, completely white, covered in intricate tattoos, and walking on all fours. Every muscle on the beast appeared tense and strained uncomfortably at all times. Long serrated bones protruded from its spine trailing all the way down its back which shook violently every time the beast moved. It’s barrel-like chest heaved rapidly as it sniffed and snarled at the ground, obviously trying to find Kuron. Blood dribbled from its mouth almost constantly, but whether it was the creatures own or not it was impossible to tell. Kuron held his breath completely, trying not to make a sound. The creature snuffed in frustration, seemingly disappointed. It turned to leave but before doing so it half-dug a small hold in the ground with it’s wickedly angry claws and grunted as it hunched into a squat directly over it. Kuron held back a snicker and held his nose.

The deed finished, the creature lazily kicked some grass over the mess and rushed off into the forest. Kuron took out the stone and pointed it in the direction the creature went. The stone glowed softly as the mystical path snaked out of it once again – but it didn’t go in the direction of the creature, it went straight down towards the pile the creature had left behind. Kuron scowled. “Aw great…” he groaned. He walked over to it and poked it with a stick, but was surprised to feel it was rock solid!

A little while later Korbuk and Kuron could be seen huddling over the strange lump the creature had left behind. From Kuron’s description Korbuk informed him that it was known as an “Ukun”, and that they are the war-dogs and tracking hounds of the Legions of Discord. Ferocious and unrelenting, they have been known to pursue their targets even while grievously injured, stopping only for death.

Korbuk: “Amazing! And dis came from dat creature?”

Kuron: “Aye, shat it right out and th’ stone pointed to it and not th’ bugger ‘imself.”

Korubk: “Sounds like an Ukun, but dey only eat meat. Dis one looks like it ate rocks!”

Kuron: “Or metal!” Kuron tapped it with his axe producing a “tink” noise.

Korbuk copied this action with his gauntlet producing the same noise.

Korbuk: “Ya, it IS metal…dis is some kinda ore! I’ve never seen anyting like it!”

Korbuk suddenly gazes off into space.

Kuron: “You alright?”

Korbuk blinks confusedly and then focuses on Kuron again.

Korbuk: “Ya…ya I am. I just had anodder vision! I saw dis great sword being held by a true warrior. I saw it come out of it’s sheath, parry a blade, and den slash right through some lesser warrior’s armor. With each of deez actions, it made dis sound…”

Korbuk taps the ore with his gauntlet, producing the same true ring of metal from before.

Korbuk: “I bet dis was dat weapon, or could be someday…we need a really skilled smith ta work wit dis metal…an’ I know just da one!”

Kuron sighs.

Kuron: “Here we go again!”

Continued from Disappearing in Discord…

Having gained the ability to become at least somewhat reliably invisible, Kuron found himself finally brave enough to explore the malevolent lands of Discord. He stalked through the deranged forests and angry valleys with greatly reduced fear, having proven his invisibility by way of numerous pranks. He had only been hiking for about three hours, and in that time had already started a fight among two inhabitants, tripped numerous bipedal creatures, kicked a quadruped (for lack of being able to properly trip it), burped on a sleeping guard, and nudged an unsuspecting Kyv archer off a cliff. All said, being invisible was a lot of fun!

He could no longer see the beacon to return home. This was the farthest he’d ever been in the lands of Discord. He considered continuing onward, but was so shocked by the beings he had seen on the outskirts of safety that he dared not wonder what might lie in wait further out. He could see the ruins of a great castle ahead, and beyond it enormous plumes of smoke rushed angrily into the sky. Fear of the unknown in combination with a very large thumping noise nearby told him that perhaps it was time to return home before planning the next step. Yes, he was scared, but he had proven his point. He dashed through the forest following his map carefully, though he had a general idea of where he was.

As he walked back in the direction of the beacon he continued to hear the thumping noise. It sounded like something very large taking a stroll, and Kuron had no intentions of discovering what it was. Despite his intent, the thumping footsteps continued to grow louder and closer. He thought it best to duck down among some tall grass to simply let whatever it was pass by, but scoffed at himself for forgetting he was invisible. He chuckled slightly and started to rise from the tuft, but a sudden snap of sticks and brush under a large footstep scared him right back to the ground. Sometimes feeling safe is as important as being safe!

Kuron began to sweat as the steps came closer and closer. Then he felt the thing stomp within just a few paces behind him, distinctly hearing the gravel and leaves crunch as it spun on its heels and turned to face his direction! The thumping had stopped, but now Kuron could hear it breathing. Feeling some measure of confidence from invisibility, he turned his head slowly to glance behind him. A giant Ogre stood there, a single stride away, and it was looking right at him. There was no question that it could see him. He stood up in fear, and frantically looked toward the beacon, unsure of whether or not he should flee. The Ogre reached out for him with a massive hand, scowling. In a tight grasp that dispelled his camouflaging enchantment he lifted the Dwarf right off the ground and held him in front of his face – Kuron would not be fleeing.

Ogre: “YOU!”

Kuron: “PUT ME DOWN YA BUGGER!”

Ogre: “WHAT ARE YA DOING OUT HERE?”

Kuron slugged the Ogre in the face, but he only smiled and shook him.

Ogre: “HA! I get worse wounds from shaving, ya little gnat!”

Kuron: “An’ what would a Dwarf be knowin’ about shavin’ ye ugly gorilla!”

The Ogre frowned angrily.

Ogre: “Oh I dunno, maybe today’s good ta learn how ta shave! Hahaha, not a bad idea! Loan me yer blade there and we can get started!”

Any Dwarf would rather die than lose his (or her) beard! Kuron cursed and spat, trying desperately to wriggle free of the iron clutch but the Ogre shook him viciously, it was useless. As it’s giant hand pawed at Kuron’s side reaching for his sword, the Ogre suddenly gasped. He put Kuron down carefully and pointed to the gleaming crimson sheath hanging from the Dwarf’s belt in awe.

Ogre: “Da Red Scabbard! Where’d you get dis?! Speak up!”

Kuron: “A man gave it t’ me after I help’d him witha lot o’ problems. What’s it t’ you, fatty?”

Ogre: “Redblade?!”

Kuron was intrigued now.

Kuron: “Aye…Kargek Redblade. You know him?”

Ogre: “Know him! Dat man is as much as legend as da Scabbard is! You must be da one I been looking for! Sorry for da rough up!”

Kuron: “Lookin’ fer me?! Why? And how were ya findin’ me? I been cloaked all day!”

Ogre: “I guess I got good eyes. Also, ya smell pretty bad. Was easy ta track ya. But mostly I think dis was all meant to happen for a reason.”

Kuron grinned and dusted himself off.

Kuron: “We’ll talk about what yer smellin’ like later. Yer thinkin’ an’ talkin’ pretty well fer an Ogre, but ya still stink worse than any I ever met before, who are ya?”

The Ogre introduced himself as Korbuk Brimblade. He was a direct descendant of Grivnok Brimblade, the original Ogre to be granted the Red Scabbard by Rallos Zek, the God of War. The power of the Scabbard helped secure the might of the Ogres early in their existence against many terrible forces. Centuries ago a terrible curse came over the Ogres and they began to lose their minds, turning nearly all of them into the savage and stupid race they remain today. Before losing himself completely Grivnok entrusted the Scabbard to Korbuk, who still seemed largely himself at the time, but Korbuk sensed a greater power elsewhere. Not willing to risk losing the Scabbard in his journey to seek this greater power he willed it to the patriarch of the Redblade family, Thegrek, with orders to pass it on to anyone who was able to prove themselves worthy of wielding it. As a family of reputable blacksmiths and weapon-crafters, this was the perfect lineage to trust with the task – they would speak to anyone who needed a good blade.

With a large amount of help and a tremendous amount of luck Kuron had proven himself to Kargek, the grandson of Thegrek, and became master of the Red Scabbard. Having held it himself once, Korbuk knew Kuron could probably sense the greater power he sought as well. He had tracked it to the land of Discord, and was experiencing a strange vision right around the time he happened upon the hiding Kuron. The fates were colliding at an exasperating rate. Kuron was fascinated by the tale of this “greater power” and agreed to help Korbuk in seeking it. With Korbuk’s visions as the guide, and Kuron’s invisibility breastplate eager for more mischief and exploration, the journey began.

To be continued…

Kuron hadn’t seen much of the lands of Discord – it scared him. Honestly, it scared everyone. But Kuron’s bravery and confidence were far less developed than most. He was no hero here. Every time he’d attempt a journey to these seething lands of anger and unkemptness, he’d end up running away in fear. It got to the point where he’d just decided not to travel there any more. Each failed attempt to explore made him miss the old lands, the place of his birth, and the beloved peace of Thurgadin all the more.

But where Kuron lacked in mettle he made up for by being very resourceful. He had so many magical trinkets at his disposal, it was virtually all he had going for him. With his many toys he was able to sustain himself underwater without breathing, summon fireworks and ale at will, as well as run faster than most average beings via special boots. Even the ring of the Dain he wore offered him accelerated healing and protection from harm.

Only recently he received a very important item, a breastplate which could hide him in a veil of shadows. While venturing into the ancient city of Chardok to recover part of his Epic weapon it was discovered on the corpse of Overking Bathezid and entrusted to him, grudgingly, by Brita – the cleric that did pretty much all the work for him – most likely out of pity.

Sealed within the breastplate was a swirling vortex of shadow and mist. It was able to project this sight-canceling mass, on command, to surround and blot out the visage of the one wearing it. You’re probably wondering why such an amazing item was so willingly given away to Kuron by this obviously god-like cleric, and you are right to do so. It wasn’t exactly given to him at all. On seeing it, Kuron thought it would be a funny prank to put it right on and mock the now-dead King through mimicry in his own attire.

Tossing off his current armor he shimmied into it, which was easy considering he was quite moist with sweat and food spillings. Brita watched as the now-very-nude Dwarf slid into the armor, and noted with revulsion that he wore nothing underneath his armor save for a few inches of reddish hair. In Brita’s eyes the value was now completely nullified, she was utterly disgusted beyond the nature of wanting material possessions by this filthy spectacle. She grouchily awarded the breastplate-turned-bedpan to our jovial little dirtbag, gagging only a few times as she spoke.

Brita: “You…*glurp*….go ahead and keep that now…”

Kuron: *hunching over the corpse of the King* “O! Thank ya deary! That’s awful nice! Yer helpin’ me so much an’ then givin’ on top of it all! C’mere an’ gimme a hug!”

Brita: “NO! STAY OVER THERE!”

Kuron: “…but I have t’ thank ye somehow!”

Brita: “If you want to thank me, you will never remove any article of clothing where anyone can see you ever again!”

Kuron: *smiles* “Ohhh, I see, a wee embarrassed eh? I don’t mind ye lookin’ at me rump lassie, but I would ask that maybe someday ye return th’ favor! HAW HAW HAW!”

Brita: “…I wonder if I can resurrect the King.”

Kuron decided that maybe this was his chance to explore Discord and understand it better. Donning his newest treasure, he sauntered up to the sole individual who could transport him there. The Priest of Discord chortled to himself as Kuron approached. He had seen the cowardly Dwarf many times a week, and found his attempts to face his fears quite amusing at this point.

Priest of Discord: “Back again, huh big guy?”

Kuron: “Dinna ya even start, I’ve had enough o’ yer mouth fer a God’s age!”

Priest of Discord: “And yet you keep coming back to me to plan short-lived vacations to Discord! Astounding!”

Kuron: “…I don’t even care t’ waste my explanations on ya, and I’ve got a good plan this time! I’ll show ya! Now shut yer ugly face an’ take me t’ Discord, I wish t’ go!”

Priest of Discord: *sighs and rolls up the sleeves of his robe* “Very well…prepare to enter the lands of Discord!”

The incantation began with a swirling ring of yellow glyphs tracing out a Portal in the air before them. It began to spin more and more rapidly as the view through the ring rippled. The scenery through the transparent ring contorted and sucked inward revealing a void of nothingness, which then faded into a view of landscape in the twisted realm of Discord. The Priest of Discord smiled wickedly at Kuron, and nodded toward the portal invitingly. Kuron scowled at him, and started walking through the rift. The Priest watched as he carefully walked through and touched down on Discord’s soil, then turned back to give him the o-k.

Priest of Discord: *smiles incredulously from the other end of the void* “See you in a few seconds…”

Kuron: “WHY YOU…”

But his anger was to be bottled, for just as he spoke the Priest closed the portal on him.

Kuron composed himself quickly, there was no time to deal with hecklers. He fancied the idea of returning from Discord calmly, confidently, and preferably with the festering corpse of something quite slimy he could smother the smart-mouthed Priest with. The wild hills of Discord sprawled all around him, and untold horrors stalked in the perverse forests nearby. Kuron looked around carefully and, sensing no danger, decided it was time to invoke his breastplate.

Having had experience with so many trinkets before, it was not very difficult to figure out the way to activate it. A few seconds of deep concentration was all it took, which was good for Kuron because he probably could not offer much more. The breastplate pulsed and a thick shadowy aura creeped out, engulfing him in a shroud of partially-light-refracting blackness. To an unsuspecting being, he would be a slight cloud of wispy dust, and barely perceptible.

Carefully, and while still in relative proximity to the beacon that could bring him back to safety (albeit not from heckling), he crept out into the forests of Discord in search of a creature to test his invisibility. He heard a rustling of brush and soon found a frail but vicious being called a Noc. He walked right up to it, and waved a hand in front of it’s face. It behaved as if nothing at all was happening, completely oblivious to Kuron’s presence.

Another creature approached, also unaware of Kuron, and beneath the shroud of nothingness an impish grin came to his face. As the creatures passed each other, Kuron threw a rock at one of them. A brawl broke out, the victim blaming the only other creature present. Kuron held back hooting laughter, this was all the confidence he needed.

He ventured deeper into the forests now assured that his visit would be much, much longer…

To be continued…

Continued from yesterday’s “Forging My Future…”

As Kuron stared at the ring, glinting in the sun and feeling quite chilly in his bare hand, his mind wandered to events long-passed…

The Coldain, first to harvest the powers of Velium, are a distant cousin to the Dwarves. They live in a hidden city called Thurgadin nestled within an icy valley known as Great Divide and hidden behind a waterfall. The day Kuron discovered this city he knew he’d never want to leave. So much time was spent in Thurgadin, that many of the Coldain came to accept Kuron as one of their own. Kuron was a frequent visitor to the Dain, whom he still has never beaten in a drinking contest.

On one of of his attempts to do just this, Kuron learned of a great conspiracy among the Coldain people. It seems some betrayers had revealed the location of Thrugadin to the most hated enemy of the Coldain, the Frost Giants. War was imminent. As defense and (Brell forbid) escape plans were being drawn up, Kuron worked through the web of lies and deceit to find all the conspirators. Their heads delivered, the Dain realized he could truly trust Kuron. Advisors and Senechals rushed up the stairs and called for the Dain, their attackers were advancing in large numbers. No time for thanks, the Dain rubbed his chin curiously and then scribbled hurriedly on some parchment, which was then folded and sealed with his signet ring.

“Deliver this t’ Sentry Badain at th’ line o’ defense fer this city. And don’t be lookin’ at it! I know ye like surprises me boy, and this’ll be a biggun fer ya!” he said with a gruff laugh, though his voice was decidedly grim.

“Ya can count on me!” was all Kuron could find words to say.

The Dain, in his wisdom, decided Kuron should relay orders to the militia gathered outside in order to defend precious Thurgadin from invasion. He knew Kuron had done a lot of legwork around Great Divide to find all the traitors, and figured no dwarf would be more knowledgeable of the lay of the land than him. Kuron couldn’t believe what he heard when Sentry Badain read the document. He vowed to slug the Dain right in the nose if they ever survived this.

“O, great surprise yer majesty! I GOT ONE FER YE MESELF IF’N WE EVER FIGGER A WAY OUTTA THIS MESS!” he yelled back towards the gates.

There was no more time, the Kromrif giants were in sight now. Feeling his call of duty, and possibly with some influence from the Cerebrodex 9000, Kuron barked out several maneuvers to the troops. He had a lot of help, but still many lives were lost. The war raged on, the arrows flew, Velium weapons shredded flesh of Dwarf and Giant alike, the snow melted under gushes of steaming blood, Giants fell to the ground with bone-jarring thuds, the screams of all races echoed in the valley, but when the last cry was heard – it was one of the Coldain Generals in complete victory. The war was won! Thurgadin remained! The roaring of the Coldain shook the very mountains, causing minor avalanches.

Kuron was weary as he trudged back through the halls of Thurgadin to Icewell Keep. Battered and bloody, Kuron himself had seen some action in battle when a small team of giants broke into a dead run for Thurgadins gates. Kuron was more than happy to chop them down with the rest on the last line of defense. Commondwarves cheered as he passed, but he wasn’t able to react properly, he was too humble and tired. All of Thurgdain was in celebration, even those who’d lost family members. The passing of loved ones in order to achieve victory is as great a reason to party as any for the Coldain. Kuron felt too strange to celebrate, all of this had happened so fast, he hardly felt as though he deserved it.

The Dain laughed boyishly as Kuron approached his throne. Kuron had to laugh as well when he saw the war room now in complete disarray, the map-table crushed into splinters, no doubt danced upon by the Dain himself at first news of victory. The Dain grinned and handed Kuron an overflowing mug, which he gladly sucked down in two large swigs. The council all around him was doing much the same in the joyous victory party.

“Knew ye’d do it! Good fer ye lad! Good fer all o’ us! Thurgadin is saved, and them Kromrif r’ sure t’ be knowin’ what we’re about now! I knew I wouldn’t be regrettin’ countin’ on ya!” the Dain gleamed.

Kuron clenched his fist and socked the Dain in the shoulder and roared. “YE DURN DOLT! I AIN’T ABLE T’ MANAGE ME OWN CLEANLINESS! HOW’D YE GET DUMB ENOUGH TA PUT ME IN CHARGE O’ YER THURGADIN! I COULDA KILL’D US ALL YE KNOW! I HUV HALF A MIND T-” but the Dain quieted him with an outstretched hand. The rest of the room fell silent having seen the Dain struck.

“My Thurgadin?” The Dain blinked as he looked around him and smiled, lightly rubbing his shoulder though he felt no pain.

He chuckled quietly in his gruff voice as he took off his thick gauntlet, displaying the ring on his open hand to the gathering of Dwarves nearby and finally to Kuron. All watching beamed in awe at the artifact, Kuron too could not ignore the amazing craftsmanship and nobility of the piece.

“This ring was my father’s, an’ his before that, an his before that, an y’see where I’m goin’ with this.” He chuckled. “Every generation adds their own rune t’ this ring, an’ mine is this one here…” he said as he pointed to a rune resembling the letter “H” but with the line crossing between at an angle, and striking through on each side.

“Ever since th’ day we left Froststone, we Coldain huv been in constant strife. Whether from th’ harsh ice outside, or th’ wicked things down the Well underneath our very feet. With Brell’s blessing we Coldain huv surviv’d any trials what come our way, an’ this day we’ve stomp’d down another, th’ biggest of all fer that matter. But, this time, it weren’t only Brell that help’d keep Thurgadin belongin’ t’ th’ Coldain this day, friend. It were you, Kuron Steelfeather, that made it possible.”

With reverence the Dain slipped the ring off his hand, admired it a moment, and then placed in on Kuron’s finger. The he leaned in close and spoke plainly and proudly.

“Me boy, this is as much YOUR Thurgadin as anyone’s this day.” He smiled.

Kuron looked down at the ring on his hand as everyone around began to clap and cheer. The Dain had removed his other gauntlet and started clapping as well. Praise was everywhere! Kuron grinned sheepishly, unsure of how to react, but the Dain slapped him on the back.

“Well what are ya just sittin’ there for? Get up ya fool and take a bow! Ya look like we’ve been married or somethin’!”

Kuron stood up and went to the center of the room on the raised section of floor which served as a window into the Well of the Deep below. He bowed low and honorably, to which the crowd cheered and clapped even harder. The Dain yelled above the applause “SPEECH! COME ON LAD MOVE YER BEARD!”

Kuron chuckled and positioned himself carefully at the center of the dais as he marveled at his new ring and began to think of what he could possibly say to thank the Coldain for this honor. He was no diplomat, and not at all a public speaker, but he managed to come up with something he thought would do just the trick. He began by shouting “HONORABLE COLDAIN, I THANK YE ALL!” but nobody could hear his words over the ear-splitting crack of ice that rang out the moment he opened his mouth. The entire room gasped.

Kuron stood completely still, very worried about where he thought the sound was coming from. He slowly looked down to his feet, and saw his fears were confirmed. The floor of the dais, made of Velium ice, had a tremendous crack spidering out all around him. As Kuron looked down at the shattered window to the Deep he whimpered, it was a long, long drop, but as far down as the ground was he could still make out things moving around below that he could safely assume were not friendly. Kuron looked up, helpless.

“Oh no, lad! DON’T…” was all the Dain had time to say before the ice shattered completely inward, spilling Kuron down the Well and into the gnarling, icy depths below.

Kuron snapped out of his daydreams then, realizing he was in Plane of Knowledge. Rubbing his head and wincing from the memories, he put the ring back on his finger. He knew exactly where he wanted to get his Velium now. A cruel stroke of bad luck kept him from honoring the Coldain’s praise that day, but it would not stop him this day. He thought back to the history of the Coldain and their ancient homeland of Froststone which they were forced from. He would honor them this day, and get his Velium.

Froststone: centuries ago it was the home of the Coldain, but today it is a crumbling ruin full of Orcs and monsters. Deep below the surface in the Crystal Caverns, only a small group of Coldain remain there today, too stubborn to leave though the bulk of Coldain society abandoned it long ago. The precious Velium that was mined there was too valuable for the Ry’gorr Orcs not to want. The monsters unearthed in the depths below were always hungry. The poor Coldain were sandwiched by danger at all times, thus their exodus to Thurgadin was necessary.

Kuron sloshed through the snowy Eastern Wastes towards the entrance, nearly chin-high in snow. He found it and numerous Orcs ready to be killed as he tromped down the mine shafts going ever-downward. He yelled “FOR THE DAIN!” with each skull he cleaved. His ring, now surrounded by Velium on all sides, glowed blue with pleasure as he continued deeper. He grabbed up all the Velium he’d need to forge up the Shurikens on his descent, and even managed to find the remains of Froststone!

The defenders of Froststone, still there after all these centuries, immediately recognized the glowing blue ring on Kuron’s hand, and welcomed him with honors. He found the forge of Froststone and thought it a novel idea to craft the shurikens right there, deep below the earth, like a true Coldain of old would have. He thanked the noble Coldain for keeping their ancestral home in Coldain hands, and with a heavy heart, began the long ascent back to the surface.

The Shurikens assembled, and every other task on the Smithing test complete, Kuron shed many tears as he left Froststone and returned to Freeport. How dull and criminal this dirty city seemed in comparison to shining Thurgadin, and slumbering Froststone. Kuron’s work was immaculate, mostly. Some of the items, a few cook pots to be exact, were horribly dented from a fall he suffered in the Grimling Mines. Kuron somehow talked his way out of this, and received a passing grade. He held the trophy out on high, truly proud of his accomplishment, though it did look a bit silly. Instead, Kuron thought it best to think of what the trophy meant, and of all the adventures he went on to receive it. That, to him, seemed a much better reward.

“Keep yer frilly soup bucket, I got better prizes in me noggin’ with more meanin’ than a hunnerd o’ these ugly things…”

Grats Kuron on his Smithing trophy!

Aside from being one of the greatest weekends in a very long time, this weekend was also quite eventful. Upon my return to Everquest, the first thing I did was clear out all the horribles from my bank. There was a lot of stuff I just couldn’t bear the throw away though, and this was trade-skill supplies. In EQ tradeskills are both fun and unforgiving. The basic principle goes something like this:

Click. Click-click. Click, click, click, click-click. Click. Click-click. Click-click. Click.

That’s how you make a pie. Yes, EQ’s trading is just a lot of clicks, combinations, and sub-combinations. The materials needed range from expensive to “PUT THAT DOWN!”. The stockpiled things in my bank ran the gamut of all available price-ranges, and so who was I to just throw it out with the bags full of mangled flesh and obsolete weapons? No, instead I decided to get to work. It was time to show the world that Kuron was a talented and accomplished smith. It was time to work on getting my Smithing Trophy.

When you reach a certain level in skill in any trade-skill, you are eligible to prove your worth to a Trade Committee member. What follows is a long and sometimes exhausting test where you need to create several items (about 25-30) completely on your own, and then later turn them in the be judged. Upon successful completion, you are given a ridiculous looking trophy that not only tells the world your exact level of awesomeness, but also grants a higher percentage of success to you in whatever tradeskill it was awarded for.

Kuron ran over to the grimy city of Freeport to visit the tradeskill committee representative for that district. She was more than happy to assign him the test, and I could see why as I skimmed over the list of things she wanted him to create. I had to make several pieces of meager armor, a few pots, some rotisserie smokers, several mining picks, a bunch of throwing daggers, shurikens, and some arrow shafts, among other things. None of the minor items were very interesting, I completed them quite swiftly, but the arrow shafts and shurikens required special metals to create. Metals that came from far, far away places.

Some of these materials were so old that people no longer regularly farm them. Baffled, I left the bazaar wondering how money couldn’t possibly solve a problem in Everquest. But then, it hit me, a gentle breeze blew through my beard and seemed to whisper “Kuurrrooonn….”. This was the spirit of adventure gracing me with her gentle caress! I decided I would get the metals myself, I would visit the old places on my own, and I would be victorious! *exciting fanfare performed by seals on bike horns*

I looked at the work order and scoffed. “Acrylia Arrow Shafts” it said. This would be an interesting adventure! Acrylia, an curious mineral, was first discovered when the intelligent races of Norrath traveled to the moon, Luclin. I too would go to this very moon in search of the wondrous yellowish metal. It is said to have the strength of dense iron, but the flexibility of a young sapling. Due to these properties artisans sought it for nearly every craft, it was a delight to carve into delicate objects, and made some of the finest blades available at the time. The entire city of Shar’Vahl, home to the cat-like Vahshir, is said to be constructed near-entirely out of this substance.

In centuries passed, it was mined it from the great Acrylia Caverns – but no longer. The mines became overrun by the Grimlings, a sinister race of tribal man-beasts. It’s hard to say what exactly their purpose is, but it cannot be seen as “goodly”. Resembling something between a small and slender man with ape-like features, it’s hard to tell if they are a missing link or something else entirely. Not that any of this matters, as the only thing that must be known is that I must to split a good number of their heads open in order to retrieve the metal I need. This was done without much trouble. I merely wandered into an outskirt of their civilization in the Tenebrous Mountains, and rabidly charged the nearest mine. Their thumbed feet couldn’t run faster than Kuron’s stout little pumping legs and before long my bag was full of bloodied Acrylia bricks.

A quick trip back to Plane of Knowledge and a visit to the forge later, and I had a few Acrylia Arrow Shafts made. Super! What’s next? *reads the list* “Forged Velium Shurikens” I scratched my chin, completely lost in thought. “Velium…” I whispered to myself over and over with pangs of nostalgia. I hadn’t held raw Velium in a long, long time. One of my favorite concepts ever, Velium is a semi-translucent blue ore from the frozen continent of Velious. The ore holds within it an amazing ability, it retains the wintry energies of it’s continent of origin. It remains cold to the touch regardless of its surroundings and, when crafted carefully, certain Velium weapons can fling shards of ice at their targets. A vertible energy sponge, this metal is also widely used in jewelry, or in any object that is to be heavily enchanted.

Found nearly everywhere on Velious, I needed to make up my mind exactly where I should go to get a load of this icy ore. Kuron steepled his fingers and thought about it, at first opting to go to the closest and most convenient location. Something slid on his finger and he happened to take notice and look down. A smile came to his face as he remembered the icy ring he always wore. How many years had it been since he’d received it? He slipped it off and held it up to admire the craftsmanship. Stunning! The runes and carvings were so intricate. The finest ring he’d ever seen, and with good reason, it belonged to Dain Frostreaver IV the honorable leader of the Coldain. Having remembered this treasure Kuron knew exactly where he’d go for all the Velium he needed.

To be continued…

Kuron has been a character of mine for a long time. Long before Everquest I played text-based MUDs where the concept of Kuron Steelfeather, the Dwarven Ranger was born. He wasn’t actually a ranger, he was a warrior that loved taking walks outside and didn’t get along with the other warriors. He joined the rangers out of convenience. The Kuron of Everquest is different from any other of his incarnations. Same attitude as the comics and MUDs, but different timeline, if you get my meaning.

Since this blog is about Everquest, I thought I would share a little story I wrote that is a core part of how Kuron’s character in EQ was developed. Please enjoy:

Kuron didn’t fully understand robots, does anyone? He assumed they were just moving decorations, and completely without any thought or purpose. From this simple mistake, he was quick to learn that they were very capable of thought, and anger.

Model XIIGHI, an enormous clattering metallic spider worked tirelessly to chip away the massive stones that littered the fields of Steamfont. Kuron toddled up and stared at it as it worked. The tools worked quite sloppily, he thought, but with such force that it still got the job done. The whirling gears and occasional puff of steam were quite mesmerizing, though, so it came as a complete shock to Kuron when a tiny wrinkled hand suddenly tugged on his beard.

“Ain’t she a beaut? Finally got the servos calibrated and the correct viscosity in the grease for her to really hum!”

Kuron stared blankly at the gnome. “The what?” he blinked.

The tiny engineer scrunched his nose up at Kuron, clearly not one of “the enlightened”.

“This thing works good, doesn’t it?” He said, this time as if he were speaking to a dog.

Kuron nodded. “Oh yea, yea, a little shoddy on the hammerin’. Not quite accurate. But I follow th’ church that’s saying if’n ye wallop somethin’ hard enough it don’t really matter how ya did it.” Kuron smiled and laughed a bit as he spoke.

The gnome groused and bristled, shook his head, and started to walk away. But was stopped suddenly by a thunderous crack of stone followed by a deafening thud, as well as a metallic “ting!”.

Model XIIGHI had sheared off a little too much stone, and a little too high up. Large chunks of stone, larger than it could handle, had tumbled from above and landed on top of the unthinking machine. The gnome winced, but only because Kuron started laughing heartily. Like the braying of a drunken ass.

“The tin-can got bonked! Hawhawhawhaw! That’s what ye git fer sloppy work, ya heap o’ scrap!”

The legs of the arachnid buckled, and it fell to the ground with a great crash. The gnome’s jaw dropped.

“It’s supposed to be fine! The plating on top was nearly thick enough to repel even…Oh! This is just unacceptable! After all my calculations and all my hard work! I have a good mind to get that Sniggleworf for selling me inferior ore….AGAIN! This is the last time I get my supplies from-”

The gnome’s tirade ended as the machine sputtered and started to rise. It’s great bulk shifted as it rose, knocking the stones off in the process. The gnome watched excitedly as the great clockwork righted itself, went through it’s re-balancing procedures, performed a stability check, and re-calibrated it’s ocular lens.

The gnome was most elated at this last step in the rebooting procedure, as it was quite difficult to get exactly right. All previous attempts involved the mechanized contraption tearing its own head off with great enthusiasm. The spider lifted it’s primary tool-leg over it’s head, folded it inward, and manually spun the small dome that contained its seeing-device to the correct forward-facing position.

Kuron guffawed and chuckled all the more. “Look! He’s rubbin’ his head! Hawhawhawhaw! Don’t feel good t’ get clobbered, do it?! Hawahwahaw!”

The gnome sneered. “Look Dwarf, what you have just witnessed with your unworthy, baggy eyes is a miracle of innovation! The ramifications of an autonomous arachnodrone that is also self-repairing without provocation is…is baffling! It’s the discovery of…of EVER!”

Kuron stared blankly and the gnome hissed a hateful sigh.

“I finally fixed it! It’s perfect now! Whenever it gets ‘bonked’ on the head, it fixes itself and goes right back to work! No one has ever done this!”

Kuron smiled, but it was apparent to the gnome that is was not for the right reason. He couldn’t possibly understand it the way it was meant to be understood!

“Look, you’ve been shown a blessed miracle this day, I hope dearly that someday you’ll come to realize what you’ve seen is as amazing as it fully deserves. I also pray that you one day understand what an oaf you are, but I fear no God would answer such nonsense. I have never met you before and I hope not to meet you ever again, now if you’re quite done staring at MY device I’ll ask you to move along and find some snails to squash!”

The gnome stopped and stared off into the heavens, lost in grandeur.

“My device….MY…DEVICE….I’m going to be famous! I will be recognized as the most brilliant tinkerer in the history of Gnomedom! Oh dear I need to rouse the Council ex Machina about this at once!”

The gnome scurried off shouting in self-praise.

“SOME DAY THE WORLD WILL KNOW THE NAME WILFER PINCOGGLE!”

Kuron watched the gnome leave, suddenly realizing only now that he had been insulted. The clockwork had finished recalibrating and was tinking away at the stone once again. Dusk was beginning to fall, and Kuron scoffed as a soft yellow light flicked on inside the contraption. Kuron watched for a while longer, and then began to mutter.

“Oh, ye got a head-lamp too! Like the world really needs another trash bin, movin’ er otherwise!” Kuron snorted to himself. “I ain’t no dolt. I can see this thing has great….whatsits. Stinkin’ trash-o-lantern!”

Kuron chuckled and lightly bonked himself on the head, mimicking the incident.

“….I gotta see that again. And since that old fool says it fixes itself “EVERY TIME!” I oughtta go ahead and test it for him.” He said as he picked up a large stone.

“HEY SPIDEY! GET READY FER A NAP!”

The stone left his stout hand and whizzed over to the clockwork, smashing into pieces soundly on its ocular dome with a dull clunk. It reeled from the hit, buzzed, clicked, shuddered a bit, but remained on it’s feet. Kuron laughed impishly, and scooped up a handful of gravel.

“OVER HERE! I GOT SOMETHIN FER YA!”

The scoop of tiny rocks scattered over the burnished surface of the worker, clattering and scuffing the metal. Kuron’s laugh came right from his gut, he laughed so hard that his vision went red from the blood rushing to his face, or at least that’s why he thought everything looked red. The faint glow of the clockwork’s work-lamp had become a blinding, focused beam of intense red light. It bathed Kuron in a spotlight of utter contempt.

Kuron suddenly realized his antics had gotten him into serious trouble. The kind of trouble that’s nearly 20 feet tall, made of raw iron, and has eight legs. Model XIIGHI had entered “Defense Mode”, perceiving Kuron’s prank as a threat of maximum caliber. Kuron stood motionless, completely at the mercy of this now-very-angry killbot.

Wilfer came out of Ak’Anon’s gate with a cavalcade of gnomes wearing silly goggles trailing close behind him. He boasted and cried in his most self-promoting tones at his greatest achievement in life. But his speech was cut short at the sight of the dwarf kneeling before his machine. His machine which now had nearly half of its legs pointing maliciously at Kuron, seconds from a killing blow. Wilfer called out to Kuron.

“YOU IDIOT! DO NOT MOVE A MUSCLE, OR YOU WON’T HAVE ANY TO CALL YOUR OWN ANYMORE! I JUST NEED TO MANUALLY RESET THE BEAST AND YOU’LL BE ALRIGHT, JUST DON’T MOVE!”

Wilfer hitched up his toolbelt and, holding it in place, ran as fast as his wobbly legs would allow. The gnome council stayed behind and watched in awe. Kuron couldn’t move even if he had wanted to. That red light beaming down on him, as plain as any death sentence, but in a spectral wavelength. He was stricken with terror. Wilfer neared the machine and crouched down low, wriggling his way to the nearest access panel.

“Just stay very still, and I should have you safe in a moment….though I have no idea why I am even bothering!” he whispered angrilly.

He reached the panel on the abdomen of the device and quietly pried it open. Working feverishly with his tools for a bit, he snipped a wire and nodded. “There!”

The machine groaned as all of it’s lights were suddenly doused, the red beam of death shone no longer. The legs sagged a bit, but the machine remained standing. Wilfer stood with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot furiously.

“It would please me very greatly to not know anything about why this happened, and for you to collect your sweaty self and leave immediately!” he fumed.

Kuron remained very still.

“Did you hear me!? You can MOVE now! The machine is shut down! Off! Alseep! DEAD!”

Wilfer pounded his fist angrily on the hull of his finest achievement. Kuron started to rise now, quite shaken by this whole ordeal, but he didn’t rise fast enough. The legs of the machine were still in kill-position even after being shut down. The pounding of Wilfer’s fist on the hull, however tiny, was enough to let the servo of the main tool-leg slip out of holding pressure.

Kuron went cross-eyed and limp as the huge leg of the contraption swung down to the ground in a great arc, taking the scenic route across his skull. His body flew back from the crippling blow, smashed into a boulder and crumpled into a bloody heap.

“I’m confused Wilfer, so you’ve built a Dwarf-slaying device?” One of the council members asked from behind.

Wilfer scowled and slowly turned to face them.

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE YOU FOOLS! Help me get this poor idiot inside so we can save his watsed life!”

The council quickly ushered poor Kuron’s body into the depths of Ak’anon where the medical bay awaited.

Kuron awoke – hours? weeks? Months? There is no way to know exactly how long he lay unconscious on the tiny cot. His pain was unbearable from the moment he first opened his eyes. His whole body tingled, ached, and itched simultaneously and there was….something…on his head. He groaned as he felt around the heavy thing, which encapsulated his whole skull. It felt a bit like a full-plate helmet, visor and all, except that it whirred and buzzed and was incredibly hot.

“Oh? You’re awake huh? I bet you’re in a lot of pain.” Wilfer said sweetly. But his tone rapidly changed to anger.

“WELL GOOD! Now you can hep recompense for all the damage you’ve done to my reputation and my work! I’ve saved your life after you ruined mine, and what better way to spend your second chance at life than to learn some manners and repay me in the process!”

He pressed a button on a small console that caused Kuron’s whole head to shudder uncontrollably. The agony was horrific.

“GUUAAAHHHH WHAT IS THIS THING!? WHAT HUV YA DONE T’ ME!” Kuron screamed.

Wilfer smiled wickedly. “This is my second greatest invention ever! After you RUINED the first one with your display of how utterly ignorant you are, I decided to volunteer you for my next big idea! I present to you, completely against your will, “The Cerebrodex 9000!”

Kuron sat silently, still clutching the helmet, staring confusedly at Wilfer.

“Still stupid eh? Not a surprise, but also not for long! This WONDERFUL DEVICE that you DO NOT DESERVE will send a constant stream of electrical impulses into your brain that will, I am certain, improve your cognizant faculties! Your intelligence will exponentially increase the longer you wear it and since you can’t take it off, which I have made damn sure of, you should be about as smart as a donkey in only a few short years!”

Kuron clenched his fists.

“Ye monster! YA FIEND! I’LL WRING YER SCRAWNY NECK!”

Kuron started towards the maniacal little gnome, but a quick button press stopped him dead in his tracks and he fell to the floor.

“Did I mention I can also control your every action with it? Wilfer clapped girlishly.

Kuron sighed and knew he was beaten, but it wouldn’t stop him from trying to escape, and he eventually did. When he got far enough away from Ak’anon Wilfer’s controls could no longer hold Kuron. Although he could not remove the helmet, he felt happy enough to be free. Wilfer didn’t even care, he was simply happy to be rid of the annoying Dwarf. The Cerebrodex 9000 would help Kuron in a few situations where thought was necessary, but it didn’t do as much as Wilfer had intially intended.

He had designed it without thinking of the thickness of a Dwarven skull, and so only a fraction of the energies in the contraption got through to Kuron. It did allow him to spit out random facts and bits of lore that he’d not know previously, and on one occasion it helped him talk his way out of a fight where he was hopelessly outnumbered by pixies.

In later years Kuron took many blows to the head, with the device taking the full brunt of the abuse, it worked less and less each time. After years of punishment it finally gave way when Kuron fell into the Well of the Deep in Icewell Keep, the seat of the Dain. He landed squarely on his head, the helmet split open and shattered. Gears and sparks showered over the timlessly thick ice. For the first time in nearly 20 years, Kuron felt fresh air on his face.

Kuron found that his head was now completely bald, and his hair never grew back. He didn’t especially mind, because he could finally see his own beard, now 20 years thicker. Kuron couldn’t ever bring himself to wear a helmet of any kind ever again. Even hats were completely out of the question, no matter how stylish. It brought too many terrible memories of sweeping Wilfer’s house, forced exercising, and healthy eating against his will.

The End!

I’ve joined up with team Nostalgia the Guild and have been adventuring with them for about a month now. Our goal is to experience the game again from an “old-skool” point of view. It didn’t work out exactly that way, but we’re still doing something quite incredible.

From the start, we were all so excited in planning this that some of the rules didn’t quite get translated well enough. We weren’t specific enough to say “Don’t do any of the Serpent’s Spine content at all!”. This new content provides uber XP and amazing gear that makes any of the old-world stuff look like a waste of time in comparison. With all of the new content being used to it’s fullest potential, the old content doesn’t really stand a chance. Barring terrible pulls *bows* we are basically invincible, if I do say so myself! It’s all good, as we are still having fun, and a lot of it! I’d rather be going back to see all of these things to slaughter them, rather than wipe to them.

One of the places we still had a hard time in, good gear or not, was Castle Mistmoore. This place was a hellhole back then, and after all these years a hellhole it remains! My biggest complaint was pulling. I’d walk down a hallway, see a gargoyle maybe 3 feet in front of me. I put an arrow in it’s crotch, and it comes a-runnin’ for me. Down the hall nearly 20 feet from it, 3 doors open and a flood of vampires come rushing to it’s aid. I wasn’t aware Vampires had closed-circuit crotch monitoring for their constructs, but apparently they knew their rocky friend’s pebbles had been breached and sounded the alarm.

Some of the Vampires in there are dressed…strangely. I think this particular coterie of night children thought it best to only harvest initiates from groups of seasoned female pro-wrestlers. Can’t say I blame them! What are YOU going to do with that stake and garlic when some bitch leaps from a coffin, flips you into a half-nelson, and starts shoving them up your ass? You’re going to enjoy it, because that’s your last experience in life ever, also you’re gay-curious.

We took out a few groups, but I unfortunately had to leave early…and with very little warning. I apologize again for that guys and gals but someone kicked my gargoyle in the groin and I had to go see what was the matter, post-haste. It was just a false-alarm, and I told my Vampire minute-men they could return to their sepulchers. I didn’t leave Castle Mistmoore without giving those blood-sucking bastards something to remember me by. She gave me her number, but I’m not going to call her. She knew what this was.

THE POWER OF SPANK-STICK COMPELS YOU!

I had played EQ for 5 years prior to quitting. I took a break for about 2 years, tried some new things, tried some old things, and eventually came back. All-in-all, you can account 7 years of my life as devoted to MMORPGs. Oh and yes, I have had sex* too! Pretty impressive huh? You do believe me, don’t you?

A few months ago I returned to my old stomping grounds, Everquest, hence the birth of this website! As I logged in for the first time in years I thought back to all the fun times I’d had. One thing stuck out as a slight disappointment – I had never finished my epic 1.0! Eegads, the horror! What a noob I was! *hearty strained laughter* Seeing as how I had just returned after such a long absence, what better time to tie up that epic loose end than right-friggin-now! Good idea! I knew I had already done a few parts of it, but in order to figure out exactly where I was in the chain o’ events, I had to take inventory of the quest items in my possession.

I went to my bank and muttered through the crap I had left behind so many years ago. It felt like the beginning of the movie “Blues Brothers” looped over and over again for about 6 hours as I got back all these forgotten items that were of little to no use to me. I had so much bullshit kicking around in my bank! And believe me, you do NOT want to stick Shissar Guts next to Hill Giant Toes in a backpack and leave it in a safe for three or four years. It was sort of like returning from the military after a long service, finally getting back home and seeing your family waiting for you on the front lawn, eating each other violently, with a banner that reads “YOU DID THIS, YOU HORRIBLE BASTARD!” dangling from the roof of your already-on-fire house.

Now I know what you’re thinking: “That’s not the homecoming I would expect or want!”. Believe me, I’m right there with you pal, but get your hand off my shoulder. After a bit of rummaging and reorganizing, as well as tossing out the numerous bags of festering flesh-horrors I had time-capsuled to myself (fuck you, past-me), I figured out where I was with my epic. I needed the Ancient Blade from the Queen of Chardok, and the Ball of Everliving Golem from one of the golems in Plane of Fear. That’s actually not too bad! This seemed feasible, especially since the level cap was now 80, and the new AAs allowed people to become tiny raging Jesuses (or would that be Jesii?).

I asked around a lot, trying to find a guild that would be able to assist me without laughing. Apparently the Epic 1.0s are seen as antique and useless now, most likely because they are. Matters of principle are lost on minds of the weak. Nevertheless, I was determined to find a way to get this done. One guy was happy to help me for the *snort* nominal fee of only 100K. This guy was one of those REALLY pompous asshole monks that could basically do anything they wanted. I always envied really geared-out classes that are able to solo…wait doesn’t everyone? It seemed like if I wanted to get this done, I was going to have to take a hit in the coin-purse (pronounced ‘balls’), but I was in for a stroke of luck!

Tipa and Stargrace, the two most influential ladies in my returning to Everquest, had high-leveled characters that would be perfect for just such an insane mission. I asked them if they would be willing assist me, and bless their butts they agreed to help! Hot damn! Now we’re getting someplace! Tipa’s cleric is a beast +1. She tore into Chardok with Stargrace and myself decimating anything that DARED lay a clawed finger on her. The mission went something like this:

Tipa: Are you dorks ready?

Kuron/Stargrease: Durrr, yes, we’re dumb!

Tipa: Stay behind me, and don’t touch anything!

Kuron/Stargrease: Huh?

Tipa: Ok, we’re done, grab your dumb blade and let’s get out of here. I’m too awesome! I need to go AFK to ride my motorcycle, get blitzed and kill a man with some kind of eye-laser!

The mission was a complete success. We got the blade off the stinky Queen of Chardok, and I was one step closer. Now all I needed was a Golem Testicle. Oo la la! I thought this would be even easier than the Blade, and boy was I mistaken. It seems that a certain Amulet of Necropotence drops off these golems I needed. Said amulet can turn it’s owner into a Skeleton….and very little else. In fact, this amulet has virtually no other use aside from having the power to seriously piss me off with how stupid people get over it. This item is depressingly over-farmed and frequently sells for 75K+ for SOME fucking reason.

I camped out in Plane of Fear with friends for 16+ hours trying to get a stupid golem to spawn. We went in early and stayed late simply because we had to in order to beat the ravenous, desperately stupid-over-amulets farmers who were just trying to make yet another buck. I guess having 100 billion platinum still just isn’t enough for some. Many thanks to Tipa and Puppett for their help and patience in there, sorry it didn’t exactly pay off. Or did it?

My buddy Puppett did some research as we sat motionless in Plane of Fear all those hours. Turns out he knew a guy that knew a guy that killed a golem a few days prior, and possibly had the item I needed. Ooo the plot thickens! I tried to contact this guy for three days with absolutely no response. Finally, I got a hold of him, told him my nostalgic story, as well as my plight against golem crotch-farmers and he took pity on me. He met up with me for an MQ of the item I needed, and after 6+ years I finally had my Epic 1.0! And the crowd goes wild!

GO DARTH KURON! Also shown: Tipa’s baby Paladin!