I took off from the game twice before and, each time I came back, I found the guild had morphed into a  new incarnation. This time around was no different. Akin to getting a new job, I came back feeling like there was a learning curve with all the new stuff and new people.  But that’s to be expected. Having me back in game hasn’t exactly been easy on everyone else, either. We had a pattern in those days, and it took a little time for us old timers to remember how it used to be.

ORDK you, too, Pal.

God, this is worse than the time he tried learning how to use the in-game mailbox.

Truth be told, I was having a hard time adjusting to the new zones and new faces. I was out of my element, wondering if this was the same guild I had left? Did we have the same spirit as before? I needed that one constant, unchanging factor to tell me things hadn’t changed.

And there it is.

( <3 you, Luna.)

So we’ve been busy, ripping through instances — or getting ourselves ripped through. We started off on the right foot, defeating the Lich King. Kingslayer titles all around!

Congrats  on a job well done! With the Lich King bested by us, we’re moving on to bigger and badder things in need of conquering.

What? No, I don’t mean bosses. I’m talking about teabagging Cat whenever we get a chance.

And it’s not just Cat we’re doing it to. We’re equal opportunity teabaggers — and some of us have the joy of receiving more than others.

Some may be put off by our closeness. Maybe our sense of togetherness comes off as a strange — but that’s the glue that keeps us together. We aren’t afraid to show our fellow guildies how we feel. It gives us that special je ne sais quoi.

Ah, togetherness. Just remember – business and pleasure don’t mix.

Except that it does.

Now if you find yourself confused, we have a LoO hotline to someone who can straighten you out. May I introduce you to Counselor Kellispel?

Listen to me, people. The sooner you come to grips with it, the sooner you can heal.

What? No, I’m not talking about your heart — I’m talking about your VD’s.

Then why does BJ have so many of them?

That explains it.*

So we’re raiding 10 man again, hanging out on Fridays in the hopes of getting purples.

The raid is posted every week, usually around Tuesday and Wednesday. Sign up on the boards if you want to go.  A lot of the 10 man content is still challenging to us, but we’re getting better every time, working new strats hard and fast.

No, it isn’t. But I’m all about encouraging our raid leaders in the midst of a failboat. Especially when they’re drunk.

And Lifegripping one another into fire.

Get the marshmallows!

If you want to attend the raids, please sign up on the forums. Do not wait until Friday, then log in and ask what’s up. The board will tell you what’s up.  If you feel like you’ve gone too much and you don’t want to come across as a raid-hogger, sign up as an “alternate”. That way someone can have your spot or, if we don’t have enough, you can be easily slotted in. The raid order is usually posted on Fridays so you can check the board to see if you’re on deck to kill some dudes, like this guy:

Officially LoO's new bitch. Kinda.

Now that I’m back, I’ll be updating the front page more often. As a reminder, I’m always looking for others to help keep the site updated, too. If you want to try your hand at it and help keep the front page updated, please let me know. I can be reached on the boards or at the guild email: zugsucks at gmail dot com.  Alternatively, if you have some great screenshots that you’d like to include in the site updates, please send them to me at the guild email.

Have a great week, LoOnies, and I’ll see you Friday.

*Cat means the French Laundry, not French kitchen. I feel obligated to point that out, in case Iraas has a major foodie fit.

In synchronized motion, the bats leveled out just long enough to allow a desperate gasp for breath, then dropped to the earth. A few feet above the red, barren ground, the mammals glided in perfect parallel with the rocky terrain. Everything that passed was a blur and the speed made their eyes tear up when they tried to look ahead, so they worked on untangling themselves from the straps that secured them to the bats. Though they had just come from the coast and it would be another hour until their destination, the movement helped return feeling to their constricted limbs. Even the bats seemed impatient to land, though they would most likely continue until they reached a bat nest farther north. The Badlands was not a favored climate for bats and, after the trauma they had experienced in Stonard, they would probably want to nest with their own kind for a while. Zug really couldn’t blame them.

When they finally landed in Kargath, the sun was setting and the air had cooled to the temperature of molten lava. For some reason, an overeager guard had started a bonfire that wouldn’t come in handy for another three hours. No one was standing around it now. In fact, there was no movement at all in the small strip. If it hadn’t been for the noise coming from the four buildings in the post and the handful of guards taking refuge in the shade, the place would have looked abandoned.

Zug was thinking about securing new transportation and moving on when the aromas of an orc kitchen wafted through the air. His stomach grumbled noisily. Suddenly he was aware of every aching muscle and every layer of dirt that had compressed on his skin. Caulbraen did not look up, but nodded beneath his hood in agreement with the assessment Zug’s stomach had given.

Slinging bags over their shoulders, they tromped up the stairs and into the tavern. The smell of meat and beer hit them in the entryway and they followed it to the crowded bar. Zug took a stool at the end of the counter where he could survey the action.

The room was dimly lit, making each table a shadowy copse. Some faces he recognized, some he did not. Others were in corners, hunched over mugs of cold, frothy beer, their eyes periodically scanning the room just as he was. In the far corner, a pair of eyes connected to a bulky orc form with a torn ear. Their eyes locked. Familiarity tingled in the back of his brain but he was unable to make a positive identification. The contact lingered for a half second too long, then both looked away, resuming their casual sweep. He was still trying to place the face when Caulbraen dropped onto a stool next to him.

The orc behind the counter didn’t bother asking them what they wanted. He took one look and set two steins before them. A pitcher of ale followed, and he shouted something indiscernible over his shoulder that was either a call for dinner or a gun to put them both out of their misery.

Two large bowls of stew with a drumstick of roasted meat slid down the counter and stopped as if on cue. Immediately, Zug plunged a torn hunk of bread into the broth, his mouth watering as he stirred up the bowl, checking the contents. He saw a small assortment of vegetables and a meat not even he could identify. After some consideration, he decided he didn’t care if Iraas’ left thigh was an ingredient, he was going to eat it anyway.

“Need a room?” The barkeep grunted.

Caulbraen did the talking, which was for the best considering Zug had his beer in one hand, the drumstick in the other, and was somehow slurping the contents of the soup bowl.

“Two,” Caulbraen said.

The barkeep nodded carefully, looking them over again. They didn’t look like they had much, but they could definitely afford separate rooms. It was dangerous to separate at night, but there were certain things males did not do. Sharing a bedroom was one of them.

“Well you’re in luck,” the barkeep said. “This morning the zeppelins started running again so I had two rooms open up.”

Zug grunted questioningly as he chomped down on the drumstick.

“Dunno,” the barkeep said, shrugging. “Something about killer wolves.” He produced two worn, metal keys and shouted back again over his shoulder for seconds on dinner.

They paid the barkeep and took extra steins of beer and bowls of stew to their rooms. Neither of them said anything to each other before they retired, but they both were of the understanding that if either of them were attacked, they would shout a warning or try to die noisily. Zug locked the door behind him, closed the curtains, and went to draw a bath.

Curiously enough, the round, wooden tub was already filled with water and, not one, but three new bars of soap were sitting on a stool beside it. Lifting up one arm, he sniffed and answered the unspoken question: Yes, he really did smell that bad.

His armor was removed and dropped on the floor where he stood, then peeled off the layer of clothing underneath. As he sank into the lukewarm water, a superficial layer of dirt loosened from his skin and collected in a ring around the tub. Using a bar of soap, he tried rubbing his arm to see how clean he could get it. He sighed at the smudge. This was definitely going to be a three-bar operation.

Despite the growing twilight, the heat was oppressive and accelerating the need to sleep. Abandoning his pursuit of cleanliness, Zug closed his eyes, tilted his head back on the edge of the tub and enjoyed the temperature.

The water was cool and the room was dark when he woke. Shuffling and scratching outside drew one eye open and he rolled it in the vicinity of the door, but the wall was blocking his line of sight. Suddenly, the scratching stopped and whoever had been outside was heard hurrying away.

He stood and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist as he trotted out and looked around. Everything looked pretty much the same as when he left it: A small utilitarian bed had been crammed into a corner with a small nightstand and lamp. On the opposite wall sat a desk that had seen better days and an accompanying chair he had piled his belongings on when he came in. His armor was still in a heap on the floor.

There was one new addition to the room. Under the lopsided front door, a white piece of paper had been stuffed through and had gotten jammed under the pinched end. He opened the door and leaned out. No one was to be seen. Picking up the paper, he flipped it over and elbowed the door shut.

The letter was a threat, badly written. He tossed it on the desk and returned to the bath. It was hard to take a death threat seriously from someone unable to spell the word decapitate.

Just before dawn broke, Zug woke feeling a little more rested and slightly less crusty, and found Caulbraen waiting outside with new transportation and breakfast. Zug and the gray wolf sized each other up for a few seconds found the other acceptable. With that business concluded, Caulbraen handed him a loaf of something smothered with butter and a liquid that smelled of tropical fruit.

Zug didn’t ask where these had come from; Caulbraen had his ways. He didn’t know if they were legitimate, it was just important that no one came asking questions about it later. Since no one ever did, Zug didn’t care. Morals were loosely defined in their line of work.

The sun was just coming up when they headed out across the desert. Their destination lay a full day’s travel to the east and they would still arrive with plenty of time to spare for some reconnaissance work. Neither of them spoke much, and even what little conversation there was fizzled into silence when the heat kicked in full swing. Not that they would have been chatty anyway; it wasn’t their style.

The silence left Zug to wonder about the strange events that had taken place. Friends had gone missing and strangers were in pursuit of them to the point of burning down half of Stonard. To up the ante, a mysterious and powerful crime boss wanted to have a word with Caulbraen.

At the time he hadn’t wanted to mention it, but he disagreed about attending the meeting. Prynex was a very dangerous individual and possessive to the point of extreme violence. It was entirely possible that someone among their group knew something of interest, which could explain the channel tapping, but his gut advised him otherwise: They had something Prynex wanted. Unfortunately there was no way to know for sure without talking to everyone and they couldn’t do that with the channels shut down. If he was right and they had something of value, things were going to get ugly. Anyone with that kind of power didn’t like to be stood up to, especially by a group of nobodies.

They arrived at dusk. The sun had just dipped down over the cliff, and the inlets and caves that wove up and down the steeply slanted stone were shadowed. Dim lights in the pockmarked landscape illuminated where other travelers had taken up refuge and were cooking dinner. Zug and Caulbraen spent the last hour of light choosing a suitable camp; a semi-concealed inlet of rock with only one entrance.

Zug unpacked the camp while Caulbraen arranged their security, which consisted of an elaborate system of contraptions and wires. By the time the camp was set up and the animals were fed, Caulbraen’s traps were invisible to the untrained eye. They ate a quick dinner and set out on foot.

They found Prynex’s fortress an hour away, secured in a deep corner of the landscape. At first glance, it was an impressive stronghold, suitable to someone of power. The facade was a towering construct of indigenous rock and iron, covered in massive, ornate tapestries. An adequate number of guards stood at the front gate, trying to ward off curiosity. The sight did nothing to ward off Zug or Caulbraen since they hadn’t planned on going through the front door anyway.

Keeping a wide berth, they slowly made their way around the back. Zug noted the thinning number of guards the farther they traveled, and Caulbraen noted the growing number of security traps, silently pointing out a few of the more experienced and expensive devices. The back of the structure was encased in darkness and completely devoid of life.

Caulbraen crept closer for a better look, his cloak blending him in perfectly with the darkness. Even though his eyes had adjusted, the rogue’s form was impossible to see. Zug kept watch while he waited. Though he watched for an hour, no one else appeared, not even a routine patrol. That was odd.

When Caulbraen returned, he looked thoughtful. He also whispered, which to Zug was always the promise of a dangerous, yet good, time.

“Impressive and expensive,” Caulbraen said. “These security devices are elaborate enough to neutralize a sizable invading force.”

Zug nodded, partially impressed and equally curious. “Can you dismantle it?”

“Absolutely.”

He nodded again. “Anything else?”

“There’s a door. It’s hard to see because it’s hidden in the shadows, but there’s a narrow staircase going down. The most dangerous devices guard it.”

Zug looked around again, still wondering about the absence of a patrol. “Could you see anyone down there?” He asked.

“Only what’s left of them.”

Both of them cracked smiles.

Caulbraen gestured behind him. “The security system is on a timer, so we’ll need to move quickly. Step only where I step.”

They approached cautiously with Zug stepping into Caulbraen’s footsteps. Many of the traps Zug could see clearly, but some of those had been decoys and there were still many he hadn’t seen and would have unknowingly tripped. Periodically, Caulbraen would point to a spot on the ground and Zug would place his feet exactly where he had been instructed. Sometimes he would have to bend awkwardly, or hold his arms in contorted positions. Once they made it to the stairs, progress slowed even further.

The usual tools Caulbraen used disappeared and were replaced with an exotic array of devices. Pressure plates, trip wires and other dangers were neutralized one by one as they carefully picked their way down. The door seemed to be a different problem, but at least it wasn’t a race against the clock.

“Don’t move,” Caulbraen warned, “at all.”

Zug stood, frozen in place, for what seemed like eons. He couldn’t feel his toes anymore, but he didn’t dare move for fear of getting them both killed. If it hadn’t been for his military training, he wouldn’t have lasted so long.

Caulbraen was standing in front of the door seemingly motionless, soundless, bent over the handle. Zug heard a soft click, and the door cracked open. Weapons were drawn and they padded into the hall.

The hallway descended and stretched toward a dim light that flickered, giving an illusion that the hallway was longer, narrower, and creepier than it actually was. At the end, the path parted either right or left. Torches were lit on the walls that went left, so that was the way they went.

The hall continued on, sometimes breaking off into other directions, but they kept to the lit path. Periodically, large steel doors would appear on either side of the hallway, but quick investigation revealed them to be empty storerooms. At one point they found a staircase leading up to a door that opened to the ground level, but the door looked unused. Cracks and fissures in the walls grew more pronounced. The deeper in they went, the age of the building became more apparent. It didn’t take long for them to realize they were standing in the basement of a building that had seen better days. Prynex had probably commandeered the building temporarily to hold the meeting, and to give the impression of wealth. His actual residence and holdings were off in a secret stronghold elsewhere, kept away from a group he was trying to lure into his confidence.

The hallway once again intersected another, and their choices were either right or left. Both directions had torches lighting the walls, but voices were heard to the left. Neither of them bothered signaling to each other, they just went left.

Even before the voices grew clearer and more distinct, Zug could easily determine three individuals. By the dialects and tone, he guessed an elf, an orc and one troll, all three complaining about being stuck on prisoner duty.

Light spilled out of an open doorway and, as they crept along the wall, the sounds of rustling cards and the chink of coins became apparent.

Caulbraen’s form shimmered slightly and disappeared, moving ahead. Zug stopped where he was and waited for Caulbraen to reappear.

“What was that?” An orc said.

“Most likely nothing.”

“Yah. Nothin’ goin’ on down in here. You in or out, mon?”

A few seconds later, Caulbraen reappeared, beckoning Zug to cross quickly. Stepping as lightly as possible, Zug hurried past the door, but not without sneaking a peek inside. Three young, new recruits had been stuck down here and were trying to pass the time with a game of cards. A disturbance, courtesy of Caulbraen, had taken their attention away from the table momentarily, and were all looking away from the door, into an adjacent room.

Zug reached the other side without drawing attraction and grinned. All he could see under Caulbraen’s hood was a similar smile that spread from ear to ear. Unhurried, they continued down the hall to find out who the young guards may be keeping an eye on, and came immediately to a locked door with a small, barred window.

Caulbraen wasted no time in picking the lock open and closed the heavy, metal slab as quietly as possible behind them. Everything in the prison area was a bit darker than the previous hallway had been; torches had been spared except directly across from occupied cells. Of those, there were only three. Two were kept close to the front door that they had just emerged from, and a very faint light down the hall and around the corner notated that another prisoner had been secluded from everyone else, and kept far from panicky, unseasoned recruits.

Curious, they followed the trail of light around the corner, and the floor dipped down. Cells were much more secured back here, though not with metal and stone. Old magic that remained and covered the walls, ceiling and floors, leaving nothing except for the middle hallway clear. Zug didn’t dare touch anything.

A layer of loose dirt and dust had settled on the floor with a tell tale sign of footprints, though just a thin track, suggesting the prisoner had been neglected. The only time the recruits would come down would be to deliver the obligatory stale bread and water and, even then, only when they had mustered enough courage. Zug couldn’t help but be curious about who they were keeping down here that commanded so much fear.

The floor suddenly angled downward, the cells became smaller, though with thicker walls keeping the rooms apart. Everything hummed with magic. It did not take long for them to realize this wing had once contained powerful sorcerers and kept them at bay. Though the fortress had been abandoned and was in serious decay, the spells remained.

They turned another corner and the hall came to an abrupt end. A single torch was on the end wall, with two cells on either side. The mortar between the bricks had deteriorated severely in this area, but the guardian magic kept the building together. From the looks of things, the magic may have been the only thing holding up the fortress, as Zug was quite certain the bricks were not.

Each of them went to a door, and took a look through the barred windows.

The brick walls inside the cells were glowing a faint purple, a sign of slightly aged magic. A bowl and a plate were on the floor in front of a single cot that appeared as old as the rest of the building. A female Forsaken form was curled up awkwardly on it, with her head down toward the door. Dark hair was caked with dirt and dark smudges covered her face. One shoe was missing and the other was on the floor and, though it was in threads, it was placed neatly under the bed. Her robe was shredded and stained and no longer held much magical enhancers that he could tell, not that Zug was any good judge, but all of her jewelry had been taken, something that a self-respecting mage would never willingly allow. Without boosters, not even a former elf could break through the magical barriers on her own. Her exposed body was bruised and scratched, and she had obviously been through quite an ordeal.

She was curled on her side with her face up. Slowly, her eyes opened into slits. Yellow orbs flickered up to him, then opened all the way. Recognition hit Zug full force and his body went rigid with shock. Caulbraen sidled up next to him to see what was so upsetting.

“Gods,” Caulbraen whispered. “Emberchill.”

They both backed away from the door quickly. Caulbraen’s hands worked furiously, trying to figure out a way to get the traps off of the doors, and Zug upended the one small bag he had brought, searching for food, water, supplies, and bandages — anything that could help.

One small brick at the bottom of the wall had been taken out to slide food and water into, and Zug pushed everything he had into the cell. When he had emptied it of anything useful, he returned to the window.

It obviously took a great deal of effort, but Emberchill reached to the top of the cot, pulled herself to the edge and reached down. The first thing she took was food, next was water, followed by potions. Emberchill was no idiot. Potions on an empty stomach were likely to make her sick.

Caulbraen stepped away angrily.

There’s nothing I can do to these,” he whispered, gesturing at the magical barriers that lined the walls.

Neither of them were magic users, so they had nothing helpful to give her. They were going to have to find some aids so she could break herself out.

Zug stuck his head back up to the barred window.

“We’ll be back,” he told her.

Emberchill nodded slightly from where she was still laying on the bed. Chewing even seemed to take her a lot of effort.

Zug and Caulbraen put everything back into the bag and hurried out of the basement as fast as they could. They had seen enough.

The jog back to camp was done in double time and when they arrived, most campfires across the desert and along the rocky mountain range had died. Caulbraen led the way into their own camp, dismantling and resetting security measures as they went. The animals were peaceful and slumbering, and barely gave them a second glance when they got in. All was silent in the little camp, and everyone under the starry sky was asleep.

Caulbraen turned to Zug, pulling back his hood. A cool breeze whipped in from the desert, snapping the end of his dark cloak. After finding Emberchill captive at the bottom of a decaying fortress, they were restless and angry. Neither of them were going to get much sleep tonight, if any.

“We have to get her out of there,” Caulbraen said quietly.

Zug nodded back in the darkness. “There’s no way we can get through those spells,” he said, “and neither can she in her current state. We have to get her weapons, clothes and traveling gear, otherwise she’s never going to get out of there.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just stood there trying to think of what to do. Zug watched Caulbraen’s darkened silhouette shift uncomfortably.

“It’ll be light in a few hours,” Caulbraen said, sounding frustrated. “We have no time to break back into the fortress to get what she needs. Even if we were successful, getting back down to Emberchill before the meeting and without being discovered will be next to impossible. So if that’s what you’re saying…”

“No,” Zug said, allowing a smile to spread across his face. “I’m saying there’s got to be someone out here we hate.”

Caulbraen only needed a half second to think that one over. The rogue pulled his hood up, masking his sly smile, then turned and disappeared from the camp.

When he returned, his cloak was bulging with a variety of treasures. The most difficult item to conceal was going to be a large, twisted staff adorned with crystals and a large gem at the top. They could deal with that one in the morning, when it was light. Both of them took turns keeping watch, starting with Zug, though neither of them really slept. Tomorrow was going to be a big day for everyone.

Before the sun was peeking over the edge of their camp, both Zug and Caulbraen were up and putting together a simple breakfast: Light on the food, heavy on the coffee. Neither of them thought it wise to fight the lethargic effects of a full belly on a day like today.

A crowd was trickling slowly through the front gate of the fortress. Armed guards made taller by platform boots were checking invitation scrolls and identification before allowing anyone to enter. Behind the row of guards, a few officers overlooked the proceedings. Caulbraen and Zug kept their hoods up and approached when they were beckoned to.

Caulbraen handed the guard his summons, and both produced identification. The guard checked them both, and gave Zug a funny look.

“What’s with the stick leg?” The guard grunted, pointing at the ground.

Zug gave the young tauren an irritated look. “Lost it in battle. Is that a problem?”

The guard grunted again, though it looked an attempt at a shrug, which was a struggle under the plate mail.

“You’re pretty pudgy for a hunter,” the guard grunted, checking out Zug’s bulging armor.

Zug’s eyebrows shot up high on his forehead. “Well it’s a little hard to run with a peg leg, isn’t it?” He shifted his shoulders, bringing notice to the heavy, battle worn bow attached to his back. “I promise I don’t need to run to get you.”

The guard grunted again and handed back their papers. Caulbraen wove through the crowd that was being herded on down a hall, and ducked down a narrow corridor. At the first door, Caulbraen picked the lock and they ducked inside. The room, like most others they had seen last night, was empty.

Zug couldn’t wait to untie his leg and stretch it out. For the last half hour he had hobbled along with his ankle tied up to his thigh and his foot had lost all circulation. He rubbed it until it was tingly, which quickly turned to pain. Silently, he hopped around trying to get the blood moving.

When he felt better, he unloaded everything that had been stashed in his clothes, and rolled them up into a tight log. The clothing, jewelry and the staff was placed under Caulbraen’s cloak. There was no better way for them to keep it except loose.

No one noticed them slipping back into the wave that was heading to the meeting room, and they went with the flow. Everyone poured into a small, round auditorium with tiered seating. The benches all looked down upon an illuminated platform.

Caulbraen and Zug went through the door, up two levels and took up the bench near the door. No sooner had they sat did Zug recognize a voice.

A male Forsaken in a rough, ugly cloak stormed through the door. He was trying hard to keep the cloak wrapped around him, but the ends were whipping around his legs, exposing pale blue silk with white and purple embroidery. He had no weapons visible. Zug was no expert, but he somehow thought the only magical thing the mage was wearing were his shoes.

“Find them! Find everything!” The Forsaken huffed to an orc who was following in his wake. “This is embarrassing!”

Zug bent down, put one elbow on his knee, and covered his mouth with one hand to keep from laughing out loud. Caulbraen leaned over.

“Anyone who travels through rough territory and brings silk pajamas to sleep in deserves to get their gear stolen.”

Zug couldn’t argue with that logic and, even if he could, he wouldn’t have. He hated Nishaia Greggs and the unit of mercenaries associated with the bastard.

Greggs had made his fortune by letting others do all the work, then sweeping in at the last moment for the payoff. A couple of years ago, they had gotten close to bagging a wanted felon after eight months of work. At the last possible second, Greggs came out of nowhere, physically blocked them from finishing the job and stole the target. They had avoided him ever since.

Zug watched him maneuver down the auditorium stairs and smiled. Greggs was still limping from when Thundrax shot him in the ass.

As the last of the group was filtering in, a respectful hush fell over the auditorium. From below, a door just left of the stage opened. Prynex emerged, almost seeming to float across the floor in emerald green, silken robes with exaggerated sleeves and collar. It was a bizarre outfit for a rogue. He was flanked by two trolls who were also dressed richly, though more in an intimidating sort of way. They wore a lot of leather and swords on each hip, though they looked less like bodyguards and more like trusted lieutenants. Both of them took up spots behind Prynex, one on each side of the platform. Prynex himself waited until the room was absolutely silent, and then began to speak.

“I have a proposition to make.”

The room erupted, so much that it was impossible to hear whatever was said next. Now it was Zug’s turn to lean over.

“Well, that’s one way to start a conversation.”

Caulbraen did not respond, though he didn’t look impressed with what he was seeing. It was another ten minutes before the room was settled and the volume was low enough for Prynex to continue.

“We are the same,” he declared. “All of us. Motivated by the same things, ya? Looking to carve out our own place in the world? But we are fragmented. We bow to the same banner of the Horde, but we are not one people. The system that keeps the peace is failing more and more every day, putting strain on our own resources. Though we profit more and more from their failure, the fact remains that our leaders are failing.”

The room was silent, though more with curiosity than agreement.

“See all that I have. I have earned every coin.”

Someone on the other side of the auditorium interrupted, shouting, “By trading with Alliance mongrels!”

The discontented murmuring started again.

“Yes,” Prynex said bluntly, loud enough to be heard. The noise quickly died down again. “I have given them whatever stupid thing they wanted and taken their money in return. See, now, the power and wealth I have acquired.” Stretching out his arms, his head turned so his eyes could sweep the room. “Jealous, mon?” One arm fell to his side and the other pointed in the direction of the offending commenter. “You should be.”

He shifted and his robes swirled around him in a display of magnificence.

“But I did not do it only for money. No. Getting close to the Alliance has given me insight to how they think and what they want.”

The same obnoxious interjector interrupted again, this time with laughter in his voice.

“You want to fight them?”

Accompanying laughter rippled across half the room.

“No,” Prynex said. “I wish to subjugate them.”

All noise in the room ended, except for Prynex’s voice. He had everyone’s attention.

“I have intercepted a communication between the leaders of our races,” he said. “They are looking for components to a weapon of great power – a weapon of the Titans. If they find it and piece it together, the fools will use it and continue to fail, as they have been for many years. But if we acquire it…”

He turned again slightly to pan around to the other side of the room, letting the excitement grow in the silence.

“We will rule.”

Interested mumbling rippled across the room. Zug couldn’t help but notice the excited gestures of those sitting nearby.

Down below, the speech continued.

“I am extending this endeavor to you, because each of you has shown the skill and aptitude it takes to lead a diverse and powerful nation. I ask you now to join me in a partnership. Together, with our combined forces, we can find this weapon of the Titans, bring the Alliance under our feet and lead a new Horde to glorious victory. The riches and power that have eluded you will finally be yours.”

Zug and Caulbraen shot quick glances at each other. There was no better way to motivate a group of heartless mercenaries than speaking to their pocketbooks. By the looks of the room, it was doing the trick.

They sat there for a while longer and listened to more of the same: Add their people and resources to Prynex’s and together they will all get rich. After another half hour, Caulbraen gestured and stood, then disappeared through the door. Zug followed him out, but not before giving one last glance down at the podium. Prynex was still giving his sweeping speech, but the lieutenant closest to the door was quickly exiting.

Zug caught up to Caulbraen out in the hallway and didn’t bother asking what he thought; it was all over Caulbraen’s face. Both of them had listened to enough crap in their lifetimes to know a scheme when they saw it.

“Did you notice most of their soldiers aren’t trained?” Zug asked. “The one who checked us in could barely stand up in their armor.”

Whether or not Caulbraen noticed, it wasn’t acknowledged on his face. He just nodded thoughtfully and said, “Did you notice everyone in charge was a troll?”

Zug had to think about that one. He knew something was odd, but he didn’t quite catch it until now. Deep in thought, they both headed down the hall, back toward the entrance.

As they turned the corner and caught sight of the front door, something tingled at the back of Zug’s head, and he couldn’t help but feel like they were being watched.

“Caulbraen.”

They both stopped and turned.

The lieutenant who left the stage had come through a side door to try and intercept. He had been joined by two others, both trolls. As they approached, Zug and Caulbraen both tensed up, anticipating the confrontation.

“Didn’t like what you heard, mon?” The lieutenant asked.

Caulbraen didn’t flinch. Pale folds of flesh closed slowly over dead, yellow orbs and opened again in a slow, unemotional blink.

“I’m just not interested.”

The troll smiled and said, “You should be. This union could benefit you more than anyone else.”

One corner of Caulbraen’s mouth tilted upward in a sarcastic little twitch.

“You seem to know a lot about me, and I have no idea who you are,” he said.

The troll nodded. “I am Jin’Bathla.”

Though the face hadn’t originally registered with Zug, the name certainly did. Bathla was a radical who had tried multiple times to reclaim the troll empire – whatever that meant. Self-styling himself as “Jin,” the rank of a troll tribal leader, Bathla was responsible for a couple of assassinations among Horde leaders and sporadic attacks on outposts situated close to ruined troll cities. The movement was never widely publicized, though it was safe to say every troll knew about it and each held their own private opinion on the matter.

“Well, Jin’Bathla,” Caulbraen replied crisply, “thanks for your hospitality. We’ll be seeing ourselves to the door now.”

They turned away, ready to be done and out the door.

“Are you sure I cannot change your mind?” Jin’Bathla called. “Perhaps I have something to interest you… Or someone you may care to see.”

Zug and Caulbraen stopped dead in their tracks and turned slowly to face him.

Grinning from ear to ear, Jin’Bathla took a few steps forward, coming close. His voice dropped low.

“Come. I think you will be very interested.”

Jin’Bathla and his two cohorts escorted them back down the hall, past the auditorium. Guards thinned out along the way as they went deeper into the fortress. Natural light was nonexistent and no one had bothered to conceal the building’s age other than spacing out the torches. Warm pools of light splashed out against the walls and floor in certain spots, leaving darkened, dead space between. Zug and Caulbraen followed through shadow and light until they reached a heavy, wooden door.

Removing a key from his pocket, Jin’Bathla opened the door and indicated to a staircase. At his motioning, the guards went down first, followed by Zug, then Caulbraen. Jin’Bathla joined them after locking the door behind.

A couple of turns and a long, dismal hallway later, they were right where they had been the previous night. New guards had replaced the ones who had held the evening shift, and Jin’Bathla ordered them to continue to wait in the room until they had returned.

The keys rattled noisily in the lock, probably more for show. Zug didn’t remember Caulbraen having any problems last night, so he figured this was meant to play up the dungeon factor. He and Caulbraen were going to have to put on a good show to make this look convincing.

The door was not locked behind them, just closed. A torch was removed from the wall and taken to illuminate the corridors. Zug noticed the two captives from the night before were now gone, and every cell was empty.

At the end of the dungeon, the torch that had been on the far wall was now gone. Jin’Bathla stuck his torch into the empty metal coil and gestured to where they knew Emberchill was being held. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

Caulbraen’s eyes coolly flickered to the barred window. Without turning his back, he took two cautious sidesteps over and looked in. Zug felt his heart take a half-dozen hard beats before Caulbraen tensed visibly and turned on Jin’Bathla angrily.

“Release her,” he demanded. “Now.”

Jin’Bathla laughed softly, but his eyes weren’t smiling. They were cold and hard.

“She will be released,” he said, “if you cooperate.”

Zug, feigning confusion, went to the door and looked. Emberchill was laying on the cot, face up, head down in his direction so she seemed upside down from his vantage. Her eyes opened and she looked much more alert than she had the night before. She winked at him, and then both eyes closed as if she were unconscious.

Whirling around, Zug grabbed the nearest guard, knocking him into the first.

“You can’t do this!” He shouted.

Caulbraen and Jin’Bathla jumped into the scuffle. Cloaks were ripped off or wrapped over heads, and belongings were knocked to the floor. Zug gave one of the guards a punch to the gut, and received an elbow to the face. His head snapped back in exaggerated motion, trying to make it look good. As he pretended to fall back, he grabbed Jin’Bathla’s tunic in one hand and a guard with the other and used his weight to pull them around, so their backs were facing Emberchill’s cell. When he pretended to go for one of his axes, the tension escalated.  All of them were grabbing for Zug or for their weapon, except Caulbraen, who stepped back and unloaded a staff and a bundle of cloth, and kicked them through the small opening to Emberchill’s cell.

Zug felt a dagger at his throat. Relaxing his body deliberately, he let go of everything and lifted his hands. The guards directed him back by Caulbraen, who was pretending to nurse a bruised lip.

Smugly, Jin’Bathla tugged the bottom of his tunic, straightening out his armor, even stopping to brush off his sleeves.

“She will be released,” he said through gritted teeth, “when you cooperate.”

“Fine,” Caulbraen said. “What do you want?”

“A few of your people went to see Raeln Rivaellyn, the seer in Undercity. We believe they have something we want. Let us speak with them, and hand over any items they may have acquired from the seer.”

Zug snickered. “You think we have the Titan weapon? We don’t.”

“Perhaps,” Jin’Bathla said. “I want them to come here within the next two days. If they don’t have what we want, nothing will come of this and she,” he gestured to the door, “will go free. If you do, then cooperate and give us what we want, and your people will be allowed to leave.”

“People?” Caulbraen spat.

The troll smiled. “I also wish to speak with the one who refers to himself as Barathron.”

Caulbraen froze. His face read a blank page. To everyone else, it seemed as if he did not care. To Zug, this meant something was wrong. Mentally, he checked to make sure his weapons were ready.

“I doubt Barathron has anything to say to you,” Caulbraen said cautiously.

“He will,” Jin’Bathla said, “when he is informed of my very special guest.” He smiled, revealing a full set of teeth that only enhanced his yellowing tusks.

They should have figured Emberchill wasn’t the only one taken captive. It was a vain hope, and nothing more.

“If anything happens to them,” Zug warned.

The trolls all laughed.

“Nothing will happen as long as you deliver everything,” Jin’Bathla said.

“Then where should Barathron meet you?” Caulbraen asked. “Here?”

“No. Give him this.”

Jin’Bathla reached into a pocket and produced a flat, circular stone with a golden coin in the center. Engravings on the stone matched the one on the coin. It didn’t look like a language, just old, artistic carvings.

Caulbraen took it and looked it over. “Barathron will know what this is?” He asked.

“His Highness will know what to do with it, yes.”

Zug tried hard to hide his surprise. That was the last thing he expected to be said.

“How long does he have?” Caulbraen asked.

“Three days.”

Zug gave them all an impatient look. “That’s going to be a little hard for him to do, considering he’s on a boat to Durotar.”

Jin’Bathla seemed to take that into consideration for a second, but said, “When he hears of the situation, I am confident he will find a way.”

It was a somber return back to the front door, but when they were out in the sweltering heat, both Caulbraen and Zug seemed more determined than before. Fueled by anger and a little bit of worry, they made it back to the camp and grabbed their gear and mounts. They rode out, stopping at someone else’s camp to steal something that looked fast.

They were back at the fortress in less than twenty minutes and held back in the shade, under an outcropping of rock. Zug had his hands full trying to steady the young war wolf they had acquired. The beast sensed the excitement and couldn’t sit still. The longer they waited, the more restless everyone became.

Nervous with anticipation, Zug and Caulbraen were both beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong when a low grumble filled the air and a tremor rippled across the dry, desert floor.

Backing their mounts up, they retreated even farther from the building, unsure of what was about to happen.

Clouds moved in suddenly, blocking out the sun from above and darkening the area. The fortress shuddered and they could barely make out the beginnings of an evacuation. A high pitched screech filled the air and Caulbraen’s horse reared in fright. Zug moved over to calm the beast and was nearly knocked from his mount by another, more violent, tremor.

It ended swiftly and everything was silent, but unearthly so, as if all the sound in the world had been sucked up and the silence that remained was more than they could bear.

What came next happened fast.  A blast of heat shot out from the building like a shock wave, followed by the sound of an explosion. From the corner they were at, it was hard to see the area that had gone up, but they saw chunks of the fortress launched above and catapulted away. A smaller spray of rock and debris went up with it in a deranged fountain. Before the stone landed, the fortress groaned. A sickening slam echoed and repeated; the sound of the structure giving way. The back corner started to collapse and was spreading to the front. In a few minutes, Prynex’s fortress would be reduced to rubble.

“Just be glad she’s on our side,” Caulbraen shouted, and nudged his horse into motion.

Zug couldn’t help but agree and willed the wolves toward the blast.

She was riding hard through the swamp, heading away from the military outpost. The usual sounds of travel were muffled by the soft mud and she bent over her horse’s neck to avoid low hanging branches. Though she urged her demonic mount onward, it was not with a sense of urgency or panic, but one of steadfastness – her tasks would always be accomplished as long as she was diligent.

Earlier that evening, Caulbraen had sent her to find their missing companions and retrieve them. Locating them had been the easy part. Most of the missing party had indeed reached Stonard as they had intended, but never made it inside. Emberchill had been taken captive by a group who had set fire to the Stonard Inn and Sabe and Arcadi, in no condition to attempt a rescue, were, in fact, attempting a rescue. The only one missing was Thundrax, but she simply could not be bothered with him now; a new group had appeared and were pursuing Sabe and Arcadi. She did not know who this new group was, but found it curious that all of them were trolls. Though one of them was a hunter, they left a trail even a warlock could follow. Each group was unknowingly being pursued by another, and Arachne was playing the predator sneaking up on the rear.

As soon as they were away from Stonard, they had avoided the main road and cut west through the swamp. Despite the wild terrain, they were making good time. When the deep and clear imprints of domesticated mounts crossed the road that led south, she knew they would be heading to Deadwind Pass. Eventually the procession turned northwest, back toward the road, as if they intended to circle around by the old wooden bridge. She continued to follow, making sure to keep her unflagging demonic mount from gaining ground.

When she finally reached the road, she was treated to a surprise: The old bridge was no longer there. Debris had been scattered everywhere as if the Old Gods had struck the land in their wrath, trees were unearthed and scorched and large craters were embedded in the terrain. Native lifeforms of the swamp had been sacrificed in the assault and their innocent corpses littered the scape.

It was beautiful work. Unfortunately, Arachne had no time to admire the artistry. Snorting silently, her steed sauntered up the hill with the ease of a being not constrained to the mortal plane. Pulling the reigns to the right, they turned the corner and left the soggy swamp behind.

Something was wrong in Deadwind Pass. Normally the grim scape and continual reek of death did not bother her, but tonight it did. Everything was still – too still. Carrion birds that should be perched atop limbs in a nocturnal state and the stale wind that commonly whipped along the road were absent. Warped, dead trees were twisted in such a way that if one stared long enough, it was possible to see tortured faces that stared back and watched travelers as they passed. Something had wounded the strength of this place, and the evil that lived here was recuperating from it. At the very least, it meant travel through the Pass would be uneventful.

The living mounts she followed would be getting tired around this time, so she slowed her demon to a brisk trot in order to keep from bumping into the mysterious group ahead. From what she could see before leaving Stonard, the group was made up of five trolls, and one of them had an animal companion. This meant a hunter, and she would need to stay just beyond their periphery to keep from being detected. Other than a profound interest in Sabe and Arcadi, she did not know who they were or what they wanted. The only way for her to find out would be to get close enough to eavesdrop and, to do so, the hunters would need to be eliminated.

She continued to dwell on his through the remainder of her trip through the Pass. As she neared Duskwood, she kicked her horse into a gallop.

The transition into Duskwood was abrupt; a line in the earth where the grass began was also the line of enchanted shadow that covered the forest. The road ended just as abruptly with a crossroad turning either right or left, and a wooden fence attempting to discourage travel forward. On the other side lay a steep incline of jagged rocks that divided the forest in half. Those she followed would not dare climb it with their temperamental, living mounts, nor would they follow the road on the left as it led to a human settlement. That left the road to the right. As they had all been traveling for half the night and into the early afternoon, each group would set up temporary camps to rest. Though she could not track like a hunter or telepathically sense a variety of lifeforms, she was not worried about finding them. Thick bushes and continual shadow made things difficult to see on the horizontal plane, but the clusters of bracken were spaced apart, giving an advantage to anyone above. Leaning down low over her mount’s neck, she urged her demon over the fence and up the hill.

She was quite a ways above the forest floor when the ledge leveled off and widened slightly, although the brush grew even more dense so their travel was not made any easier. Along the way, another path broke off and inclined up to another level, creating a wall on her left side and narrowing the road. Wild plants growing in the crevices grew thick and dense, pinning her against the stone. Progress was slow. Thorns grabbed at her clothing and a stray branch had given her a bloody lip, but it was a small price to pay for the high ground. When the growth was too thick to continue, she dismounted and traversed the ledge on foot.

A dip in the ground caused her to stumble. Hissing a curse under her breath, she grabbed a nearby branch for support and looked down at her feet. It appeared as though a small landslide had damaged this portion of the rock and a boulder had slammed down the side of the cliff, clearing a path that led almost to the forest floor. Something had ended the boulder’s descent, and the large rock was firmly lodged into the side of the cliff. Staying as hidden as she could with surrounding brush, she climbed into the groove, made her way down a few feet and looked out.

Immediately she spotted the two groups. Emberchill’s captors were burning a small fire, and had set up camp up ahead on her left. To the right was the group pursuing Arcadi and Sabe – the number of their group including mounts and pets made it impossible to miss. Arachne found herself conveniently stationed in the middle. For a brief moment she thought she had lost Sabe and Arcadi completely, until familiar voices floated out from under the fallen boulder and up into her ears. They had set up camp smartly against the wall, under the boulder.

“She is never going to be interested in you.”

The hostility was unmistakable in Arcadi’s tone. “Why?”

“Because she’s a druid,” Sabe answered, “a lover of life and nature.”

“So?” The priest retorted indignantly.

“You’re dead.”

“And you’re the expert,” Arcadi said. “A troll and an orc – now that’s an uneasy visual.”

“I never said that,” Sabe said defensively. “There’s nothing going on between Barathron and me.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

“Trolls are a very spiritual people. Barathron respects my dedication and servitude to the spirits of nature. That’s all.”

“If that’s what you want to call it, fine, but don’t point fingers at this whole thing I have with Autumnwolf.”

“You have a thing? She ripped your arm out of its socket!”

“That was an accident.”

“What!?”

“It’s not as if she goes around doing that to everyone who annoys her.”

They weren’t shouting, but it was more noise than Arachne would have liked. Hopefully the sound was only echoing upward and the bushes below muffled the noise, preventing it from being heard across the forest. This untamed land had more dangers than a handful of strangers. She decided if those two idiots were going to attract the attention of everything in the forest, they were on their own. Before she could decide how upset everyone would be if she only returned with Arcadi and Sabe’s mutilated corpses, movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention.

Two trolls and a raptor had left the camp to the right, and were headed toward Sabe and Arcadi. Noise from below had dwindled to practically nothing and, considering how badly they looked earlier, they were in no condition to defend themselves from anyone. From what she could hear, they would be passed out from exhaustion by the time the trolls arrived. It was time to go to work.

Working her way back up the groove, she climbed back onto the path where the brush was thickest. She held out her hands. A dark incantation was uttered as her hands were lifted, and the air around her thickened. Her cloak and hood fluttered slightly, trembling at the pulsing orb of raw magical essence she held, its existence both terrible and beautiful. Runes skittered around her feet and she focused her thoughts on the magic. Her companion appeared at first as a shadowy silhouette, but as she continued the form became solid. The demon moved to stand next to her, then was still; an obedient servant.

The demon followed her back down the path and into the crevice. Both trolls were getting closer now. The hunter and raptor were making good time and were headed for the right side of the boulder. The second troll left the hunter and started to circle wide around, headed for the opposite side of the camp. A flash of light caught her eyes – two daggers appeared in the troll’s hands, and then the troll winked out of sight.

As she had foreseen, the hunter was going to give her problems because she did not want anyone detecting her. To stay invisible, she would need to direct her pet from above and, at all costs, keep her presence a secret from Sabe and Arcadi. The last thing she needed was those two bungling up her work. Once she had eliminated the hunter, she would need to move her pet to the other side of the camp to take out the rogue. This was another challenge in itself as the rogue was invisible and, even if she could see them, her pet would charge straight through Arcadi and Sabe’s camp. Somehow she would need to move her pet around the outside and she was not yet sure how to do that yet.

Her lips pursed together tightly and a smile appeared in the corner of her mouth. Arachne enjoyed challenges.

Working her way down the groove, she noticed a tree trunk leaning away from the cliff at a good angle. She climbed behind it and slowly brought her weight down until she was laying against it, allowing it to support her frail form. Both hands were now free and she had a good view to the forest floor below. Her wand came to one hand and a long, curved dagger came to the other. By her estimates, as long as the hunter stayed down on the forest floor, she would be safe.

Below, a raptor’s head bobbed stupidly above a clump of bushes, looked around, then ducked down. The hunter emerged alone and walked into the center of a small clearing. Placing a small trap in the center, they covered it with leaves and stood. An arrow was nocked in a bow, and then they backed up into the bushes.

Arachne smiled and focused her thoughts on the hunter. Her felguard obeyed, becoming a blur as it raced down the hill. Sword raised, it sliced silently through branches and bramble that lay before it. Arachne had expected a little more noise and disruption, and was elated at how well the demon was doing.

The hunter could hardly help but notice the hulking form speeding their way. An arrow flew from the bushes but was parried by the demon’s blade. The hunter ran. Stepping from the bushes, they tried to back up and notch another arrow in a bowstring, but the demon was faster, slamming quick, powerful sword strokes into the hunter’s side. From behind, the raptor pounced upon the demon, raking with its talons, but it seemed to have little effect. The hunter had no distance to use their bow and the beating from the demon’s sword kept nearly knocking them off their feet. Turning, the hunter ran in the direction of the trap. Arachne let the demon follow a short way, then, before they reached the trap, she commanded the demon to turn onto the raptor.

Furious, the raptor dug into the demon, but was not doing well against the demon’s sword. The raptor was driven back a few feet from the force of the blows. This had given the hunter enough time to gain the distance required for their bow; something her demon would not fare well against.

Arachne called her demon to return. It obeyed her immediately, pivoting and moving back toward the steep cliff where she was hiding. Confused, the raptor followed, still attacking the demon. As soon as the demon was angled away from the trap, she sent it back on the hunter.

Frustrated, the hunter dashed out and away from the demon again, trying to lure it into the trap. Arachne commanded the demon back onto the raptor, slamming into the animal with enough force to drive it back and away.

More than a few arrows had broken the demon’s leathery hide and its strength was fading, but Arachne was ready for this. She closed her eyes and focused, allowing her own lifeforce to flow out in a steady stream toward her demon. Her own body was weakening, but the tree she was laying upon supported her.

The demon’s attacks renewed and she sent it away and back into the hunter. The hunter was unprepared for a fresh assault and fell to their knees, drawing out a small axe that blocked the attack. With one hand, the demon reached down and grabbed the hunter by the throat and squeezed.

Desperate, the hunter slammed their axe into the demon, but every stroke became weaker until the axe fell to the ground and the hunter stopped moving. Arachne stifled a triumphant laugh and turned her attention back to the raptor. This part was going to be a little luck and a great deal of chance.

Commanding the demon to attack the raptor, she gave more of her own lifeforce to her faithful servant. The drain made her tired and very weak. Pointing the dagger at the raptor, she focused her energy on a new spell. The dagger flickered with a malicious light that winked out as quickly as it had appeared.

The badly injured raptor turned and fled directly away from her, then bounced erratically from tree to tree. The demon chased it, still beating it with their sword. The enchant ended and the raptor turned on the demon. It hadn’t gone as far as she had hoped.

She tried again. Again, the raptor turned and fled, this time arcing wide around Sabe and Arcadi’s camp until it reached the general area of where the rogue had disappeared earlier. The demon followed, racing to keep up with the panicked animal. When the spell ended, the raptor stopped, blinked, and turned on the demon.

To Arachne’s satisfaction, the rogue had seen the commotion. Realizing there was trouble, they came to the animal’s aid.

The demon staggered under the blow of two daggers digging into its back, but it finished off the raptor easily and whirled on its new opponent. Sword raised and eyes flashing angrily, it bore into the rogue, walking them back away from the camp.

The rogue had made a poor choice. Arachne wondered if they had realized it before they breathed their last. Silently and swiftly, the demon left the corpse in the bushes and began its climb back up the cliff to where she lay against the tree.

As she rested, she scanned the area again and noticed with some amusement that her demon had not dispatched the hunter after all. Badly wounded and moving slowly, the hunter rolled over and pushed themselves until they were sitting upright. Given the distance, she had a hard time seeing what was produced from a bag and quickly consumed, but she guessed it was something to heal their wounds. At her command, her demonic minion rushed down the hill towards the hunter to finish the task.

More movement drew her attention away and she forced her demon to an abrupt halt. From the camp on the left side where Emberchill was being held captive, figures were emerging and heading her way. They were doing well at keeping to the shadows and bushes, so she could not yet make out how many there were. Arachne was not in any rush, and was content to wait patiently. As they got closer, she could see one was a tauren trying to hide their bulk under a massive, dark cloak, and the other was an orc warlock with a demonic companion in tow – a felguard that looked very similar to hers. The trio was heading in the direction of the camp below the boulder. Arachne suspected they were sent to investigate who had been following them.

While she was waiting, the hunter pushed to their feet and went in search of the missing raptor and their rogue friend. Both groups would intersect where the corpses fell. A laugh like a hiss escaped her lips and she called her demon to return. Together, they waited.

Still a few yards away from the camp, the hulking mass stopped in their tracks. The warlock was right behind and knelt down. As Arachne suspected, they had walked right onto the rogue’s corpse. That they lingered over the body meant they knew him. While they were inspecting the scene, the hunter arrived.

Even from such a great distance it was easy to see the hunter was startled and they ducked into the bushes to watch.

After a few minutes, the tauren and orc stood, quickly looked around, and left to report what they had found. The hunter waited until they were gone, then emerged. There was nothing the hunter could do for the rogue, but was able to call back the spirit and soul of the raptor. The hunter then gave the animal something to eat, and returned to his camp.

Arachne smiled her amusement. The hunter’s camp now thought Emberchill’s captors had attacked them. She was definitely going to use this to her advantage.

Prying herself off from the tree, she climbed back up onto the path and sat down to eat. At the end of her meal as she was packing everything away, she found a small package of sweets in the bottom of her bag. Opening the package, she pulled out one of the striped candies and popped it into her mouth. It was quite pleasant.

Swirling the little confection with her tongue, she got up and made her way back down to the leaning tree. By the time she had gotten into position, the hunter was on his way back to where the rogue’s body had been left, and he had brought a friend. Arachne waited until they had reached the far left side of the boulder, then focused on the priest.

Her demon rushed past her once again, down the same path cut earlier. Surprised, the priest leapt back from the demon and ducked away from the blade, but was not so lucky against a massive fist. The priest was knocked to the ground and immediately rolled, trying to get away from the felguard.

Behind the demon, the raptor was trying to rip into the felguard’s back with their massive claws; both followed the rolling priest. This gave the hunter more than ample time to gain distance they needed for an attack with their bow, something that would cause her minion severe damage quickly. Every arrow lodged itself deep into the felguard’s muscular back; the force of the blows driving the demon’s muscular body to bend with every hit.

Undaunted, the demon was driving their sword down with powerful strokes, but the blade was not getting anywhere near the priest’s body. Snarling silently, the demon followed the priest who was intentionally rolling toward the base of the cliff. Arachne knew the priest’s protective spell would only hold for so long. Grabbing out her dagger, she focused on the raptor. The dagger flashed. Immediately, the raptor opened its mouth in a silent scream and fled into the forest. She didn’t give herself even a second to pause, but extended long, gnarled fingers toward the priest. Dark magic was such a part of her being that she did not even need to utter the words, only barely think them. A swarm of shadow surrounded the priest, then another, and another.

The demon’s sword finally cut through the shield and, after a couple of swift strokes, ended the priest once and for all.

By now the raptor had awoken from her spell and was on its way back, but she ignored it when it emerged from the bushes and sent her demon to the hunter. This time the hunter was prepared, and the demon stepped into a trap. A block of ice shot up, encasing the demon and rendering it immobile.

This was fine with Arachne, as it gave her time to impart her lifeforce to the injured demon. The hunter had done more damage than she would have liked, but she was able to stabilize the felguard in the few seconds that the trap held. The drain left her a little weaker than she would have liked, but she was safe in the tree. When the demon was free, it charged the hunter, knocking them off of their feet and slicing away with its weapon.

Again, the hunter ran back in the direction of the cliff, dropping another trap. This time it was badly placed and did not catch her demon. Frantic, the hunter grabbed some of the lowest hanging limbs and pulled themselves up the cliff, trying to get out of the felguard’s range.

That was when the hunter finally detected Arachne, but it was too late. A dark bolt of energy left her hand and slammed into the back of the hunter’s head, knocking him out of the branches. The hunter fell from the cliff and hit the ground hard. Another bolt followed a few seconds after. A dark cloud then appeared, smothering the hunter’s armored form. Head lolling, they scrambled on all fours to get away, but the demon did not stop until the hunter was dead. The body convulsed in the final throes of death and blood sprayed out of the mangled corpse, splattering the demon and coating the forest floor.

Confused, the raptor stopped, casting a blank, wide-eyed stare at its fallen master. With its consciousness still tied to the hunter, it was no longer receiving signals on whether or not it should even still function, much less fight back, and collapsed into the grass, dead.

Arachne gazed indifferently at the damp mess below and popped another striped candy into her mouth.

Her demon returned to her on the side of the cliff. She rested for a few more minutes, and then decided it was time to eavesdrop.

Picking her way down the side of the cliff was difficult and dangerous. Even though she used the path her demon had cut earlier, it took a long time to get to the bottom. On her way down, she caught a glimpse of the camp Sabe and Arcadi had made under the boulder, behind a thick wall of bushes. Arcadi had just woken and was sitting upright, looking around as if noises had woken him but was too disoriented to decide what it had been.

As quietly as possible, Arachne and her minion dropped down to the forest floor, away from the boulder, and crept off toward the troll camp on the left.

She could hear voices as she approached the remaining members of the mysterious party who had been following Sabe and Arcadi. They spoke in Zandali, the native language of trolls. Taking up a hiding spot behind a cluster of bushes, she sat down on a rock, produced another striped candy, and placed it into her mouth.

“Where are they? They should have been back with Kiljir by now.”

“Some resurrections take longer than others, depending on how long the spirit has been away from the body.”

“There’s no time, mon. Our orders are to take the shaman and her friend to Zin’Rokh.”

Arachne sucked thoughtfully on the confection. She had never heard of a troll city by the name of Zin’Rokh. To her knowledge there was not even an ancient city by that name.

“Then why are those fools attacking us? They know who we are – we were together when our instructions were given out.”

“Perhaps they wish to impress Prynex?”

“Other races do not impress him.”

“I do not know the reason, but we should not sit idle and wait for them to attack again. As soon as everyone returns back at the camp, we will eliminate them and take the mage by force.”

“What is the mage for?”

“Leverage, mon. Her boss is on his way to the big meeting and Prynex will use her to his advantage. They will cooperate as long as we have her in custody.”

“Not such an insignificant group, I think. You know who is in league with them.”

“Yes, and that’s why we need the shaman, though her friend is not important. He can be killed and left to rot.”

A slight pause and a mumble of agreement gave Arachne time to bite into the candy. A burst of sweetness filled her mouth. Pleased, she grabbed another one out of her bag.

“They should have been back by now – I think something has happened.”

“Okay, let’s go check it out.”

Arachne grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder and led her demon behind a tree. From there, she watched the two remaining trolls head back to where she had left their companions’ corpses. She decided Sabe and Arcadi should be able to protect themselves from these two, and went off to rescue Emberchill.

She did not usually fare well at traveling long distances on foot but seemed to be making good time, though she was willing to concede the enjoyment of the candies were most likely what was distracting her from what would have been an annoying jog. She did not even notice how much time had passed, and was almost startled when she led her demon around a thick tree and nearly walked into the warlock she had seen earlier. This time, he was alone; his back was to her and he was relieving himself.

Silently, she watched the warlock for a few seconds while she sucked on the candy, then decided what she would do. Since she had not been afforded a dignified death, he should not be allowed one, either. It was over in a matter of minutes, in a pool of blood and feces.

Arachne popped another candy into her mouth and went to find the remaining three who had captured Emberchill.

It wasn’t hard to find them; an argument had erupted over the corpses she had left below the cliff. She leaned up against a tree and listened to the conversation from a safe distance.

“If the shaman and priest killed them, why leave the corpses outside of their camp? It would attract wild beasts. I’m not convinced it was them.”

“Because they were defending themselves. Obviously Valjir and his gang were unsuccessful in their task.”

“If Valjir and his crew were all killed, where are the rest of the bodies? I only saw one.”

“We’re just going to have to assume they are dead based on what you found. It was a failed mission that we will have to finish.”

Murmurs of agreement were faint rumbles across the grass.

“Someone will have to stay here with her while we do this.”

The conversation paused uncomfortably while they identified their weakest member.

“Very well. I will stay.”

Arachne wanted to get back to Sabe and Arcadi before these two arrived, so she jogged away from the little camp and summoned her demonic steed. It appeared out of nothing and stamped impatiently at the ground.

When she arrived back at Sabe and Arcadi’s camp, it was quiet; the two trolls were dragging the bodies of their friends away into the bushes. Hands were gesturing frantically as they talked, trying to emphasize angry whispers. Inside the camp, Sabe and Arcadi were slowly picking their way through a meager meal – both looked too exhausted and disoriented to eat.

While the trolls talked, the two from Emberchill’s camp arrived – a heavily armored tauren and the troll they had seen outside the inn. The troll’s boar pet followed faithfully behind as they dismounted and inspected the scene. The bodies were gone, but the mess remained and a bloody trail led into the forest.

The hunter gestured at the bushes where the two trolls had been arguing, but the conversation between the trolls had ended abruptly with the new arrival. Still believing the hunter and tauren had killed their friends, the trolls were now preparing for a confrontation.

In Arachne’s opinion, the situation kept improving. As she had hoped, Emberchill’s captors had thought the same of the two trolls and wore their expressions on their faces – finding the trolls at the scene of the crime led them to believe they had turned on their comrades and killed them.

Battle exploded in a clash of metal and magic. Completely entertained, Arachne popped another candy into her mouth. She tried to stay as close to the fighting as possible and hidden in the bushes. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure how hunters could so acutely detect other lifeforms, but she hoped she was close enough to another body that it appeared to the hunter as one and not two.

Movement from under the boulder was completely ignored in the skirmish. Arcadi and Sabe could hardly help hear the noise, and recognized the pair who had taken Emberchill captive. A minute later, they were leading their mounts away from the fighting. They did not know what was happening but hoped to free the mage during the confusion. Only Arachne noticed them leaving, sneaking away through the shadows. Even the hunter, completely engrossed in the battle, did not see.

Arachne thought now was a good time to do the same and dashed from the scene, hoping the hunter would not notice her, either. As she was leaving the battle, angry accusations started being hurtled back and forth between the parties. She didn’t stop to find out how the conversation was going to end up; Arachne knew they were about to figure everything out and she would need to rescue Emberchill before they did.

Her demon and horse were waiting for her just as she had left them, and she commanded the mount forward before she could even climb all the way into the saddle. The sound of battle welcomed her again, as she arrived to find Sabe locked in combat with a heavily armored elf. Metal clanged loudly as a great broadsword was parried by one of Sabe’s axes. Her second arm swung wide but caught the elf prepared; he took a hard blow in the side but held his ground.

Behind the fighting, Arcadi had entered the camp and cut Emberchill’s bonds with a long knife. The mage was barely coherent and very weak, and none of Arcadi’s spells were helping her. He put Emberchill’s arm over his shoulders and was struggling to get her on her feet. When he saw Arachne, he shouted for her to help.

She slid off of her horse, sent her demon to the elf, then ran toward the camp.

Faced with a new opponent, the elf shouted frantically for help. One of his hands came away from his weapon and gestured in Arachne’s direction. An unseen force slammed into her, knocking her bag free from her shoulder. It fell to the ground and its contents spilled out into the grass. The world swirled and the landscape rose and fell. Her eyes flickered and she squinted, trying to focus. Arcadi’s mouth was moving, shouting for her help, but she couldn’t move and her brain was buzzing. It was another few seconds before she could concentrate again, and she whirled around to see her demon in a frenzied assault. A magical barrier, similar to the one the priest had earlier, protected the elf’s body from harm and each sword stroke ricocheted back at the demon. He fled into the forest with the unrelenting demon in pursuit.

Now that the elf had his hands full, Sabe was rushing to help get Emberchill on her feet and out of the camp. Their mounts were restless. Despite the noise, Sabe’s wolf swung its armored head around toward the forest and its ears pricked up. The confrontation in front of the cliff had ended; during the shouting they had solved the mystery and were coming.

Ducking back into the bushes, Arachne ran around to the back of the camp where a deep trench had been carved in the earth. In her rush she nearly fell in but managed to stop herself right at the ledge. Anyone falling into that would not easily get out again. On the opposite side, Sabe and Arcadi were helping Emberchill to the edge of it, and were slowly walking her around to the other side. This was going to take a while.

The elf came back. Rushing into the camp, he saw them trying to escape with Emberchill. One hand came free and pointed in their direction. This time Arcadi was the target and stumbled forward as if hit with an invisible fist and tumbled into the ravine. Sabe cried out, frantic to keep herself and Emberchill from following.

The elf made a dash toward them with the demon still in tow. Arachne brought her demon to an abrupt halt and reached for her dagger. The elf saw her reaction on the other side of the trench and laughed maniacally, as if he thought she might throw the weapon at him. He pulled up short as the dagger flashed. Both eyes widened, then the elf turned and ran, panicked, into the forest. That spell would keep him busy for a while.

Sabe set Emberchill gently on the ground and tried to help pull Arcadi out, but the slope of the earth and a twisted ankle from the fall made things awkward. There was nothing Arachne could do to help, so she thought she would go collect her fallen belongings. As she started back around the outside of a cluster of bushes, the sound of running filled her ears.

The only way to see above the thick hedge was to hop up and down and, even then, she only caught glimpses. Four figures emerged from the trees at the other end of the camp, and the elf was one of them. Arachne noted they were missing an additional fighter, and sent her demon to the troll hunter. The four were temporarily distracted by the arrival of the demon, and clustered around the felguard with weapons drawn. The hunter was trying to back away, but was unable.

A large boar charged into the camp, rushing toward Sabe. Lowering its head, it collided into her side, nearly knocking her into the ravine. Grunting in surprise, she released Arcadi, who fell to the bottom. She tried to regain her balance, but one foot slipped over the edge and started to slide down on loose dirt. Throwing her body weight back toward the grass, she grabbed the boar with one hand and dug the other into the ground. Below, Arcadi shouted and backed away from the orc, who was close to pulling the enraged boar into the ravine. The boar squealed in pain and tried escaping Sabe’s grasp. Not far from the commotion, Emberchill, wounded and weaponless, tried to crawl away from the fray.

Grabbing her wand in one hand, Arachne ran back to where Arcadi and Sabe were struggling in the pit, but kept in the safety of the bushes where she would not be seen. As she ran, she sent a series of abusive spells to the hunter. Splashes of light radiating from the elf broke the shadows, strong enough that narrow rays were squeezing through the hedge. The elf was trying to help combat the deadly spells, but wasn’t effective enough against the onslaught. Finally, the hunter collapsed on the ground, and his boar fell with him.

Her felguard was struggling; even with the hunter dead, it was badly wounded. Her dagger came to her hand again, and she sent the elf away into the forest. Sidling out from the bushes, just enough to clear her aim, she summoned a massive ball of dark energy and sent it slamming into the tauren’s head. Arachne jumped back into the bushes and shared her lifeforce with her pet.

The transfer left her a little tired, but she did not let physical limitations affect her. She sent a series of dark clouds to the tauren, then also the troll who was hacking away at the felguard. The elf came back, but she ducked out from behind the bush again and sent them away, running into the forest. Back behind the bush, she sat down, shared more of her essence with her demon, and sent more abusive magics to the tauren and troll, systematically stripping their lives away. She thought if she had those candies with her, she could do this all day, every day.

A panicked shout from the ravine had Arachne on her feet and hopping again to see above the bushes. The missing fifth fighter had shown himself: A troll rogue had snuck around the camp and was holding Emberchill at knife point.

“Warlock!” The rogue shouted. “Come out, Warlock! I have your friend.”

Arachne commanded her pet to stop. The demon’s movement ended abruptly and its sword was lowered. Creeping to the edge of the bushes, she peeked out.

The tauren and troll were still standing near her comatose demon, weapons out and ready. Both cast nervous glances in all directions, looking for her. Their wide-eyed stares gave away too much: they knew to fear her, she who had single-handledly dwindled their numbers within a matter of hours. Closer to her, Sabe and Arcadi were still struggling in the ravine, trying to get out. Sabe had slipped down a little farther and could almost no longer reach the top.

“I know you are there, Warlock!” The rogue continued, and held up his free hand – he had found a few of her belongings that had fallen and snatched them up. A half-empty bag of striped candies was among them.

Arachne’s eyes narrowed at the sight.

She stepped out from behind the bushes. No one said a word.

“Listen, mon,” the rogue said. “Leave now or your mage friend dies.”

Arachne’s eyebrow shot up, challenging his statement. The rogue actually looked embarrassed.

“Again,” the rogue said.

The elf came running back into the camp, seeming confused at the deflated scene.

Arachne did not look away from the rogue. She expressed nothing in her features, nor did she say a word. Mechanically, her arm extended from under her cloak and pointed her dagger at the elf. Again, the elf turned and fled into the forest. Her arm returned at her side and her dark cloak closed over her and was still.

The rogue swallowed hard and tried to look unimpressed, but she could tell he was weighing the situation carefully. Arachne alone had proven herself to be a formidable foe. If she decided to help Sabe and Arcadi out of the pit, they could easily overcome their foes and rescue Emberchill.

She made no hint that she intended to go anywhere, and her eyes stayed locked on the rogue.

“Okay,” the rogue said, his voice leveling. “What do you want? We can negotiate. Do you want money? Name your price. We can give it to you.” He gestured to his friends on the other side of the camp. Arachne’s eyes followed the bag of candy as it extended away from the rogue’s body, and back again.

The rogue paused, looking confused, and repeated the gesture. Again, Arachne’s eyes followed the bag of candy wherever it moved to. He cleared his throat nervously.

“You want… these?”  He asked, holding up his hand.

Arachne’s eyes followed the movement upward, paused, then returned to the rogue’s face.  She said nothing.

“If you agree to leave and do not follow us,” the rogue said slowly, “I will give your things back.”

A few seconds of tense silence followed the offer.

The felguard moved, startling everyone in the camp. It disappeared into the trees and reappeared seconds later behind Arachne, looming like a menacing shadow. Arachne held out her hand.

Everyone looked surprised, though there wasn’t anyone who looked it more than Sabe and Arcadi.

The contents in the rogue’s hand sailed through the air, and she caught the object of her desire: the small bag of candies. Everything else fell into the grass with a soft thud and was forgotten.

As Arachne climbed up on to her demonic steed and rode away, the sound of Sabe’s furious screams followed her.

“Arachne, you bitch! I’ll get you for this!”

Arachne laughed and placed another candy on her dark tongue. Today had been a good day.

The latest raid schedule is up and posted in the Member Forum. It is my regret that, out of a seven-day week, there are four nights of scheduled raids – but since nothing is mandatory, there is plenty of time for everyone to pick and choose what they would like to do. If you don’t want to go anywhere for whatever reason, then it’s no big deal. Remember, it’s your playtime and we respect that. Mostly.

A lot of us are working on honor grinding and some are leveling twinks. For those individuals who have been helping out with twink instance runs, thank you so much.

Of course, some of us are better at it than others.

And not just once, but twice.

If you have a twink that needs an invitation, don’t be shy in asking. We usually allow those in with little trouble.

Usually. If I suspect you’re Biggerbeef, you’re going to have a small task in order to get in.

Come on! It’s not like I ask for a lot.

FAIL! I invited him anyway though, because he threatened to autofollow me. Like he doesn’t do that anyway.

Anyway, if any of those non-raiding type options don’t strike your fancy, you can always work on your tradeskills. That’s what Biggerbeef does when he’s not getting smacked on the head by bosses. It’s soothing.

I experienced his skill ups first hand. He’s kind of like that favorite pet who kills rodents and birds and leaves them on your doorstep. But hey, at least I can say this about our newest tank: He knows how to use the mailbox a lot better than Zug.

And that was just the first four pages.

Retribution followed shortly after. I have connections.

Of course I paid! Only the best for you, BB, because I’m such a good friend. But what do you know? Arcadi gave me a freebie!

Sweet!

Every LoO raid has received a slight overhaul in some regard. Wednesday Night Fites have been set to “kill”, with more challenging targets. Kara raids have continued with great success, many badges, and upgrades for all. As you’ve already read, we’re taking away the “imposed stop time” and we’re going to play every night by ear. Most of us have done enough online gaming to know that raiding is a commitment – not just to an instance, but to each other. It’s a social thing. Shadow said it best on the forums: We don’t really like to have rules, but when we have so many people involved in an event, we have to at least have a loose set of guidelines so we don’t step on each other’s toes. To be honest, we really only have the rule for one reason only. Since I’m such a nice person, I’d never point this reason out.

I don’t have to. They do it for me.

At any rate, we’re doing amazingly well on every raiding front. We’re having a fun time getting badges and upgrades – just remember it’s a game and we shouldn’t try delving into deeper meanings.

We’re continuing to face new challenges and learning to die in new and unspeakable ways. My therapy bill is in the mail.

No need to thank me for that visual. Hot pokers for eye gouging will be going on sale at the end of this post. Act now and get a set of matching egg cups for only $19.99!

We’ve also brought back the guild PvP Night. Because we’ve cleared the weekend for Kara, we’re moving this to Thursday. There’s not a whole lot to say about the PvP nights that you don’t already know. We get into groups and head into a bg together. Your behavior in the guild PvP group should be the same respectful behavior you exercise alone in the battleground.

Please be advised that someone is going to need a cave or bush for Lunachik. Or maybe he can hide behind a fat tauren who he can autofollow. Something tells me BB isn’t going to volunteer for the job.

At first I thought this was a joke.

Every time I read the above screenshot, my reaction is always the same: “WTF? You what?”

At this point, I was still in disbelief that we actually have a battleground afker in our guild. I wasn’t really sure how to react, to be quite honest! I was stunned, and not in a good way.

But alas, it’s true. We have a battleground afker, people.

The only way I know how to deal with it is screenshot the hell out of it and allow everyone else to have a good laugh about it too. I guarantee this will not be the last time you see this on the front page.

Apparently pretty well, because he was in AV and he never responded, even though I kept talking to him for the next few minutes.

But he’s not the only one at fault in the battlegrounds. You know what I’m talking about:

The Last Days of Urassmyfoot

I guarantee it had little to do with his offensive name. Let me say this: If you’ve known for a while now that someone is going to eventually petition your name, calling the battlegroup nasty names isn’t going to keep you under the radar.

Yeah. This is what NOT to do in the battleground while you wear the LoO tag next to your name.

I’m not a huge fan of that word (go figure) so I probably would have lodged a complaint as well, if I hadn’t been so busy trying to defend something.

That’s all? I figured it would have been for the other thing he said. But whatever.

I screenshotted this dude’s server, but I can’t find it now. Anyway, a couple of days later, Zug logged in and was immediately taken to a screen that politely informed him of his offensive character name, and a text window allowed him to select a new name.

So hey, why not go with a name that had previously been petitioned on another character? It’s the smart thing to do! The only reason I don’t mind it is because of the great acronym.

Fitting. Nice. I like it.

And now for your moment of Zug.

And that pretty much ended our stint on Alliance.

Back on the Horde, we welcomed aboard a lot of Soul’s friends and coworkers who seemed to be worn out from their pvp server. We need an org chart. I can’t keep everyone straight.

New recruits were pouring in with mentions that there were even more who were interested. We were excited for some fresh blood and were willing to welcome everyone in with open arms. LoO does not discriminate against race, gender, or sexual orientation.

Then we were outnumbered. For a few LoOnies, the novelty of being on voice chat with our new members has not yet worn off.

Before we started to gel, social gatherings were awkward, so we’ve been putting a lot of our focus on forming a sense of community. I don’t think it’s so much the new members as it is the old timers.

But it’s going well overall. Raid format has not changed much – 10man raids will continue on the weekends with 5-man groups on weeknights. Please be advised that use of the forums will be enforced.

If anyone wants to participate in groups and raids, they must sign up. Groups are scheduled in advance for convenience. If you don’t sign up on the boards, you won’t get to go. Period. I don’t care if it’s a freaking panty raid – you won’t get to go. (Okay, if it’s a Tom Cruise panty raid, we’ll let Matelda go without signing up. But that’s the only exception.)

For everyone else, if you want groups on the weeknights, sign up.

There are groups scheduled nearly every night of the week and, even though people sign up as “alt”, the same 6 – 7 people are attending the heroics, faction grinds and quest completions. To make things more frustrating, different individuals log in at the last minute and ask if they need anyone else for a scheduled group. If you want to go anywhere, check the boards and sign up. Last time: If you don’t sign up for a group, you won’t get to go. Period.

As was already shared on the forums, we’re still taking heroics very seriously. Those will continue to be a part of our weeknight repertoire and are sponsored by Thundrax. He’s hardcore.

There are still a small handful of heroics out there that we haven’t finished yet and I would like to wipe them off of the list. We have only attempted Heroic Shattered Balls once and, although we didn’t finish, we got pretty damn far considering we only had rogue cc — that was damn fine work and we should go back soon. That heroic is a bitch and a half, and I think most of us would like to have it on the borken list. It was a scarring experience and I think the best way to get over it is to discuss what happened.

No, not the tactics — the conversation.

I don’t even know how it started. Things were happening so fast and there was so much going on – I looked at the chat bar and Matelda had set his phaser to crazy. I couldn’t even screenshot the whole thing because it was happening so fast.

The sad part is, all I can think at this point is: With a surfboard? I don’t think that’s physically possible. I guess that’s the point.

Anyway, I missed something in the middle, because this was the next thing I was able to capture:

What is the prime directive, anyway?

You’d think it would stop here. But it didn’t – things were just getting warmed up.

Why do we know how a star destroyer was built? Anyway, leave it to Zug to make it worse. The funny part about it is that he hates both Star Trek and Star Wars, and is only participating in the conversation to agitate the nerds further.

And he won’t stop until people are frothing at the mouth.

And just when we thought everyone had gotten over it…

Then Soul logs in.

He doesn’t help the situation any, but knows enough to keep his tires from being slashed by a rabid Trekkie.

I guess it was only a matter of time before we devolved into the sci fi sex0r — but it bounced right back into the nerdery.

I’m still wondering how we made it through the zone as far as we did with all this going on. In fact, the instance probably didn’t suck as much as we thought – it was probably the conversation that was killing us.

I can’t read any more of this. Moving on.

Thanks to the skills and numbers of the new LoOnies and the efforts of the old LoOnies, we have been able to go back to Kara — and we’re rocking it. Shadow has been gracious enough to lead our raids and, after the first event, the motion to make him a Raid Leader was sent to the floor. I didn’t see the point.

As far as I was concerned, we had a team of top notch gamers, specialized and ready to take on anything! We’ve been around, man. We know shit, too!

Or maybe that’s just Thundrax who knows stuff. At any rate, I agreed. With the unanimous vote secured, Koryn went ahead and promoted him.

We’re taking a break from pvp. I know we said it’s because we’re using Sunday nights to finish Kara, but the real reason is we’re all feeling a bit inadequate next to Kalenedral’s mace.

I’ve been trying to at least fit the PvP Faily in, so if anyone wants to join me, let me know. (I’m not an expert at pvp, but I’m quite hopeful that I won’t embarrass anyone.) Eventually I’d like to put pvp back on the schedule for a one night per week event, but there’s so much going on right now that it would clutter up things. For now let’s just play it by ear.

And now, for your moment of Zug.

Because my last post had a duplicate screenshot, here’s a bonus moment of Zug, courtesy of BB: