Answers at the bottom. No, this is not multiple choice!
1. What is the Death Knight tanking spec?
2. What does Death Grip do?
3. How much spell power does a DK need to power up his diseases?
4. What kind of weapons can a Death Knight use?
5. Who was the first Death Knight?
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1. Any tree can tank, given the correct gear and talents. ~ 2pts.
Any spec can tank. ~1pt.
Frost/Blood/Unholy is the only tanking tree! ~0pts.
2. Pulls the target over to the Death Knight and taunts it to attack him. ~2pts.
Pulls the target over to the Death Knight. ~1pt.
Any other answer. ~0pts.
3. None, Death Knights get no benefit from spell power. ~2pts.
This is a trick question, spell power isn't used for the diseases. ~1pt.
Any specific or general number, or "At what level?" ~0pts.
4. Axes (1h and 2h), Maces (1h and 2h), Polearms, Swords (1h and 2h). ~2pts.
Missed one from the list above or added in one from the list below. ~1pt.
Bows, Crossbows, Daggers, Fist Weapons, Guns, Staves, Wands. ~0pts.
5. Teron Gorefiend. ~2pts.
Arthas Menethil. ~1pt.
Any other answer. ~0pts.
TOTAL:
0 = Total DeathTard. That's okay, hopefully you don't play one anyway!
1-4 = Below average, but you seem to be working on it.
5-7 = Yup, you're about as smart as a Death Knight.
8-10 = You're way smarter than a lot of Death Knights--but then, they've got more important things to worry about, like not decomposing.
Friday
Ding!
Hee hee. It's now been one year since Kate and myself got married. We're very happy together, and though it hasn't all been easy, there have been many, many more good times than bad. In celebration of a year, we've spent a day together in hedonistic luxury, I've showered Kate with gifts and she's created two wonderful things for me. I shall now show you them. First, a small cartoon that she drew of the character in WoW she's been working very hard on, her warrior named Hellen, and my druid Mikkano who we've brought over from Burning Legion to Sen'jin, our new home server. He can turn into a moonkin, and I find their dancing to be a wonderful thing. Kate ... agrees? Mostly. Anyway, now that her warrior's no longer a raving fanatic of the Scarlet Crusade, she's become much more approachable.
Second is this portrait here that she drew of my druid. More serious and detailed, she's happy with how it turned out and I love the look of it, but Kate feels it isn't quite Night Elfy enough.
Second is this portrait here that she drew of my druid. More serious and detailed, she's happy with how it turned out and I love the look of it, but Kate feels it isn't quite Night Elfy enough.
Wednesday
Down The Scarlet Path
(My warrior's experience with this quest, written for this thread.)
"Travel to the town of Southshore, in the Eastern Kingdoms. Seek out a crusader named Raleigh the Devout. Give him this letter of commendation bearing my seal and he will escort you to a place of honor in our Scarlet Monastery."
Hellen smiled, feeling herself fill with pride as she remembered the priest's words. Finally! She'd worked so hard for this, at times not even certain she'd ever be allowed into those hallowed halls. She was young, she knew, and inexperienced in the eyes of some... a frown crossed her face at that thought as she recalled the humiliation she'd suffered a year ago, when she'd volunteered for service with the Argent Dawn.
She'd fought her way through the Plaguelands on foot, eyes sharp and ears pricked for any hint of danger, nearly falling a dozen times as the cursed land seemed to spring to life--unlife--around her. Murderous ghouls, screeching bats, and grubs of tremendous, unnatural size all appeared to block her path, but she'd never faltered, never even considered giving up. Once, from a distance, she'd seen what could have been nothing other than the type of undead called an 'abomination', a massive conglomeration of rotting, oozing corpses sewn together. She had not then dared to get a closer look, but even from the hilltop where she lay waiting for it to pass out of sight, she'd been able to smell it. That scent...
And when she'd at last reached the tiny chapel, so much smaller than Stormwind's grand cathedral, bustling with all manner of warriors and adventurers, and hurried to the nearest commander, eager to prove herself, to join the cause, spilling out the contents of her satchel so the runes she'd collected lay in a glittering heap before him--
She growled angrily to herself, the sudden sound eliciting a snort from her placid bay mare. The girl stretched out a gloved hand and patted the beast's neck in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. If speed was not important here, she would much rather have stuck with her own two feet. Especially since riding gave her far too much time to think.
Too young. No use at all. Was that ill-fitting mail her older brother's armor? And they'd laughed, given her a bed for the night, and sent her back to Northshire on gryphonback the next morning.
She hadn't given up, though. She'd set to work, training hard, honing her skill with the sword until she had proven first to herself, and then to her masters, that she was ready for more. She'd begged the paladins for training, too, wanting to learn more of their Light, the power that made them such a potent force against the undead. By that time Stormwind itself had come under attack, and everyone who could lift a weapon was needed. Yet when she'd asked, pleaded with them, each paladin had frowned and shook his head. The Light, they said, was not merely a weapon to be used, and its blessing was not to be given carelessly. She was too reckless, too stubborn, and too bloodthirsty, and the inner fury that drove her was incompatible with their vows.
Then she'd found the Crusade. Here were people who took her seriously, who could teach her what she longed to learn. She'd set to doing their holy work with a calm happiness that she'd found nowhere else. She slew undead, they encouraged her, and not a word was said of inexperience, or rash behavior, or the dangers of letting hatred overwhelm all else. And now, at last, all her efforts were coming to fruition. Finally, she would become a full member of the Crusade, and then... well, Brother Anton had told her that the Scarlet Crusade had its own order of paladins, and that they were not so peculiar about who they allowed to join as those of Stormwind.
She smiled again, reaching to touch the letter she had tucked carefully under her armor. It was a good day. And in another day's ride she would reach the port town of Auburdine, where she could find a ship to take her to Southshore, and then, well, she'd just have to see how things turned out. It was unwise to let her hopes run off with her, after all.
. . . . .
She stood straight and mostly still as the balding paladin read through the letter, muttering to himself and occasionally going over a line twice before moving to the next. She fidgeted a little, nervously, hoping he wouldn't notice. Hellen wished she knew what the letter said. Even if she'd been able to read more than a few words herself, though, it had been sealed, and it would have been a dishonorable start prelude to her entry into the Crusade if she'd sneaked a look at it. And she did trust Brother Anton, really she did, it was just that this was so important, and even he didn't really know how much it meant to her...
Silly girl, she scolded herself, and forced her hands to stop fiddling with the buckles on her bracers. He wouldn't have sent the letter if you needed more training, after all. He's proud of what you've done, and he thinks you're ready. This is it, this is what you've been waiting for.
Raleigh coughed, and she realized he had finished. Hoping she did not show the worry she felt--there was nothing to worry about, after all!--she examined his lined face, trying to get a hint to what he was thinking. The letter could hardly be less than a glowing report of her efforts, so why was he frowning?
He sighed. "By the Light! This is not good." Setting the unfurled letter down on the table--she could see now that it was covered in narrow, curly script in a dark red ink--he began sorting through the books and papers surrounding it, looking for something. "You see, Hellen, there's something you don't understand."
Her green eyes narrowed as she rapidly tried to think of anything she might have forgotten, might have misplaced. Brother Anton had only given her the letter, but maybe there was some sign, some gesture, something... or was this another test? One to measure her composure in the face of the unexpected? She quietly took in a deep breath to calm herself. That had to be it, this was just one of the more subtle challenges her mentor had hinted at. If she showed shock now, or surprise, she'd be showing weakness.
Now the paladin had found what he sought--a small, round firestarter. It made a rasping noise as he gripped the handles, grinding the stone and steel together until sparks leapt from it, dropping onto the letter and quickly igniting the dry hide.
I must not show surprise. I must not appear concerned. He was her superior, presumably there was some reason behind this, and she shouldn't question it. He would explain everything that she needed to know, and anything else was not her concern.
But then he opened his mouth, and the words he spoke were almost too much for her practiced calm.
"I once served the Scarlet Crusade with honor, loyalty and pride. I believed their cause to be a noble one..."
But no more, it seemed. He rambled on about horrors he claimed to have seen, injustice meted out in the name of righteousness, a thousand different lies, each more blasphemous to her ears than the last. For almost an hour he spoke, pacing the small room, waving his hands in great gestures, at times almost shouting. It astounded Hellen that Brother Anton did not know of this, had not even suspected...but he must, else why would he have sent her here?
Raleigh was watching her now, forehead creased, measuring her reaction. Her silence and intent gaze satisfactory, he lowered his voice and continued. "Do you understand, Hellen? The Scarlet Crusade must be crushed in the name of the Light. You must destroy the deranged regime!"
She nodded, face impassive. "I do understand. And..." She paused, searching for the right words. "I thank you for telling me this."
He sighed, relieved, seeming to shrink a little as he relaxed after his impassioned sermon. "You'll do it, then?"
"I will do what must be done."
The coldness in her voice was the only warning she gave, but somehow he managed to get his hammer up in time to block her swing as she unsheathed her sword and leaped at him. Hiding her frustration she repositioned herself, quickly taking a step back and shoving the heavy table to one side, clearing the center of the room, scattering papers and ashes onto the floor. She readied her weapon again.
"You're just like the rest of them, it seems." She wasn't sure if it was disappointment in her or in himself she heard, but the disgust in his voice was clearly only for her. "I was a fool."
With the last word, he swung. She was ready, and parried with her sword, but the heavier weapon jarred her arm, and she realized that she would have to dodge aside next time. If she stood toe to toe with him, he could wear her out easily.
"Traitor!" she countered, turning a little to give herself more room. "You would have us fight among ourselves, weaken our forces while the Scourge devours all."
"And do you truly believe that there will be anything left to save if the Crusade has its way?"
This time she stepped aside as the hammer blurred past. He was older, a little weaker perhaps, but still fast. Very fast.
A good test.
(Note: This is pretty much how things would have gone if, 1. Hellen was a little bit more confident/brainwashed than she actually is, and 2. Quest NPCs were attackable. Neither of these being the case, in "reality" she was heartbroken and spent the next couple of weeks moping around in Stormwind. The story took on a life of its own while I was writing it, though, and while the first half is completely accurate, the second should be treated more as her fantasy of what should have happened. ^.^)
"Travel to the town of Southshore, in the Eastern Kingdoms. Seek out a crusader named Raleigh the Devout. Give him this letter of commendation bearing my seal and he will escort you to a place of honor in our Scarlet Monastery."
Hellen smiled, feeling herself fill with pride as she remembered the priest's words. Finally! She'd worked so hard for this, at times not even certain she'd ever be allowed into those hallowed halls. She was young, she knew, and inexperienced in the eyes of some... a frown crossed her face at that thought as she recalled the humiliation she'd suffered a year ago, when she'd volunteered for service with the Argent Dawn.
She'd fought her way through the Plaguelands on foot, eyes sharp and ears pricked for any hint of danger, nearly falling a dozen times as the cursed land seemed to spring to life--unlife--around her. Murderous ghouls, screeching bats, and grubs of tremendous, unnatural size all appeared to block her path, but she'd never faltered, never even considered giving up. Once, from a distance, she'd seen what could have been nothing other than the type of undead called an 'abomination', a massive conglomeration of rotting, oozing corpses sewn together. She had not then dared to get a closer look, but even from the hilltop where she lay waiting for it to pass out of sight, she'd been able to smell it. That scent...
And when she'd at last reached the tiny chapel, so much smaller than Stormwind's grand cathedral, bustling with all manner of warriors and adventurers, and hurried to the nearest commander, eager to prove herself, to join the cause, spilling out the contents of her satchel so the runes she'd collected lay in a glittering heap before him--
She growled angrily to herself, the sudden sound eliciting a snort from her placid bay mare. The girl stretched out a gloved hand and patted the beast's neck in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. If speed was not important here, she would much rather have stuck with her own two feet. Especially since riding gave her far too much time to think.
Too young. No use at all. Was that ill-fitting mail her older brother's armor? And they'd laughed, given her a bed for the night, and sent her back to Northshire on gryphonback the next morning.
She hadn't given up, though. She'd set to work, training hard, honing her skill with the sword until she had proven first to herself, and then to her masters, that she was ready for more. She'd begged the paladins for training, too, wanting to learn more of their Light, the power that made them such a potent force against the undead. By that time Stormwind itself had come under attack, and everyone who could lift a weapon was needed. Yet when she'd asked, pleaded with them, each paladin had frowned and shook his head. The Light, they said, was not merely a weapon to be used, and its blessing was not to be given carelessly. She was too reckless, too stubborn, and too bloodthirsty, and the inner fury that drove her was incompatible with their vows.
Then she'd found the Crusade. Here were people who took her seriously, who could teach her what she longed to learn. She'd set to doing their holy work with a calm happiness that she'd found nowhere else. She slew undead, they encouraged her, and not a word was said of inexperience, or rash behavior, or the dangers of letting hatred overwhelm all else. And now, at last, all her efforts were coming to fruition. Finally, she would become a full member of the Crusade, and then... well, Brother Anton had told her that the Scarlet Crusade had its own order of paladins, and that they were not so peculiar about who they allowed to join as those of Stormwind.
She smiled again, reaching to touch the letter she had tucked carefully under her armor. It was a good day. And in another day's ride she would reach the port town of Auburdine, where she could find a ship to take her to Southshore, and then, well, she'd just have to see how things turned out. It was unwise to let her hopes run off with her, after all.
. . . . .
She stood straight and mostly still as the balding paladin read through the letter, muttering to himself and occasionally going over a line twice before moving to the next. She fidgeted a little, nervously, hoping he wouldn't notice. Hellen wished she knew what the letter said. Even if she'd been able to read more than a few words herself, though, it had been sealed, and it would have been a dishonorable start prelude to her entry into the Crusade if she'd sneaked a look at it. And she did trust Brother Anton, really she did, it was just that this was so important, and even he didn't really know how much it meant to her...
Silly girl, she scolded herself, and forced her hands to stop fiddling with the buckles on her bracers. He wouldn't have sent the letter if you needed more training, after all. He's proud of what you've done, and he thinks you're ready. This is it, this is what you've been waiting for.
Raleigh coughed, and she realized he had finished. Hoping she did not show the worry she felt--there was nothing to worry about, after all!--she examined his lined face, trying to get a hint to what he was thinking. The letter could hardly be less than a glowing report of her efforts, so why was he frowning?
He sighed. "By the Light! This is not good." Setting the unfurled letter down on the table--she could see now that it was covered in narrow, curly script in a dark red ink--he began sorting through the books and papers surrounding it, looking for something. "You see, Hellen, there's something you don't understand."
Her green eyes narrowed as she rapidly tried to think of anything she might have forgotten, might have misplaced. Brother Anton had only given her the letter, but maybe there was some sign, some gesture, something... or was this another test? One to measure her composure in the face of the unexpected? She quietly took in a deep breath to calm herself. That had to be it, this was just one of the more subtle challenges her mentor had hinted at. If she showed shock now, or surprise, she'd be showing weakness.
Now the paladin had found what he sought--a small, round firestarter. It made a rasping noise as he gripped the handles, grinding the stone and steel together until sparks leapt from it, dropping onto the letter and quickly igniting the dry hide.
I must not show surprise. I must not appear concerned. He was her superior, presumably there was some reason behind this, and she shouldn't question it. He would explain everything that she needed to know, and anything else was not her concern.
But then he opened his mouth, and the words he spoke were almost too much for her practiced calm.
"I once served the Scarlet Crusade with honor, loyalty and pride. I believed their cause to be a noble one..."
But no more, it seemed. He rambled on about horrors he claimed to have seen, injustice meted out in the name of righteousness, a thousand different lies, each more blasphemous to her ears than the last. For almost an hour he spoke, pacing the small room, waving his hands in great gestures, at times almost shouting. It astounded Hellen that Brother Anton did not know of this, had not even suspected...but he must, else why would he have sent her here?
Raleigh was watching her now, forehead creased, measuring her reaction. Her silence and intent gaze satisfactory, he lowered his voice and continued. "Do you understand, Hellen? The Scarlet Crusade must be crushed in the name of the Light. You must destroy the deranged regime!"
She nodded, face impassive. "I do understand. And..." She paused, searching for the right words. "I thank you for telling me this."
He sighed, relieved, seeming to shrink a little as he relaxed after his impassioned sermon. "You'll do it, then?"
"I will do what must be done."
The coldness in her voice was the only warning she gave, but somehow he managed to get his hammer up in time to block her swing as she unsheathed her sword and leaped at him. Hiding her frustration she repositioned herself, quickly taking a step back and shoving the heavy table to one side, clearing the center of the room, scattering papers and ashes onto the floor. She readied her weapon again.
"You're just like the rest of them, it seems." She wasn't sure if it was disappointment in her or in himself she heard, but the disgust in his voice was clearly only for her. "I was a fool."
With the last word, he swung. She was ready, and parried with her sword, but the heavier weapon jarred her arm, and she realized that she would have to dodge aside next time. If she stood toe to toe with him, he could wear her out easily.
"Traitor!" she countered, turning a little to give herself more room. "You would have us fight among ourselves, weaken our forces while the Scourge devours all."
"And do you truly believe that there will be anything left to save if the Crusade has its way?"
This time she stepped aside as the hammer blurred past. He was older, a little weaker perhaps, but still fast. Very fast.
A good test.
(Note: This is pretty much how things would have gone if, 1. Hellen was a little bit more confident/brainwashed than she actually is, and 2. Quest NPCs were attackable. Neither of these being the case, in "reality" she was heartbroken and spent the next couple of weeks moping around in Stormwind. The story took on a life of its own while I was writing it, though, and while the first half is completely accurate, the second should be treated more as her fantasy of what should have happened. ^.^)
Tuesday
Review of a book: Arthas, Rise of the Lich King.
On the one hand, I can definitely see why they chose to make a book about Arthas; main villain of the current storyline in WoW, he was a large focus of Warcraft III as well. The whole "former prince betraying his kingdom" is actually something I haven't seen done as well as Arthas has.
The book was fun to read because the characters are well-fleshed out and done in a way that reveals new parts of them; Kate and I were both surprised by how much Kel'Thuzad steals the show; for an undead skeletal magus, he shows a lot of emotion. Throughout the book you see Arthas growing up, trying and learning new things, and I think the author does an excellent job tracing what made him turn into the man that he is. Throughout the book I had fun trying to differentiate between what was Arthas' own personality and desires, and what was the influence of the Lich King. Now the thing about the book is, unless you are already into WoW or interested in it, this book will not have a lot to keep your focus.
Arthas himself is well done as a character, but truthfully they don't do a lot with him. I suspect that Blizzard dictated rather tightly what line the story would follow, and the author suffers a bit for it; the book is short and I found myself wanting to read more. Someone who hadn't played Warcraft III would not be able to predict most of what happens in the book, but I think someone who hasn't would not be very interested in what happens to the characters.
I enjoyed reading the book but would not be able to recommend it to someone who wasn't interested in the Blizzard games that it follows. The author stuck very well to the story line she was writing about, but one of the things that made her other story, Lord of the Clans, such a delightful read was the little bits of flair and things outside of what's already known about Thrall that she added in there. In conclusion, if you're interested enough in the book to want to read it, I definitely suggest you do, you'll enjoy yourself. But if you aren't and don't play World of Warcraft, then you'd be all right skipping it.
The book was fun to read because the characters are well-fleshed out and done in a way that reveals new parts of them; Kate and I were both surprised by how much Kel'Thuzad steals the show; for an undead skeletal magus, he shows a lot of emotion. Throughout the book you see Arthas growing up, trying and learning new things, and I think the author does an excellent job tracing what made him turn into the man that he is. Throughout the book I had fun trying to differentiate between what was Arthas' own personality and desires, and what was the influence of the Lich King. Now the thing about the book is, unless you are already into WoW or interested in it, this book will not have a lot to keep your focus.
Arthas himself is well done as a character, but truthfully they don't do a lot with him. I suspect that Blizzard dictated rather tightly what line the story would follow, and the author suffers a bit for it; the book is short and I found myself wanting to read more. Someone who hadn't played Warcraft III would not be able to predict most of what happens in the book, but I think someone who hasn't would not be very interested in what happens to the characters.
I enjoyed reading the book but would not be able to recommend it to someone who wasn't interested in the Blizzard games that it follows. The author stuck very well to the story line she was writing about, but one of the things that made her other story, Lord of the Clans, such a delightful read was the little bits of flair and things outside of what's already known about Thrall that she added in there. In conclusion, if you're interested enough in the book to want to read it, I definitely suggest you do, you'll enjoy yourself. But if you aren't and don't play World of Warcraft, then you'd be all right skipping it.
Saturday
Friday
And I won't even mention what happened to the cookies... (Guest post!)
Well now ladies and gents, today we have a guest visiting our little slice of the internet. Everybody's favorite Ravager of Galaxies, the Extinctionator, Sargeras, the Dark Titan! As his awesome visage cannot be safely viewed by a camera, we have this artist's rendition, courtesy of my lovely wife. And yes, Kate, the planet-sized "World's Greatest Titan" coffee mug was brilliant, I just think we should have paid extra and gone with a slightly more heat-resistant one.
Hey, hello, hi, how are you, this is Sargeras of the Burning Legion and I'm very excited to be here today on Kate's blog, Tastes Like Lint! Based on her blog's subtitle, I see already that she and I have one thing in common: we both Never Shut Up. And what's more, I have proof.
Looking through my old files, I came across this gem from 406 B.C. - one of Plato's heretofore unpublished dialogues between myself and the esteemed philosopher, Socrates. I still remember that little guy - kind of scrawny, a scraggly beard, but a pretty decent sort of fellow. Sort of awkward, the way that Plato dude always followed us around taking notes. Shame about that hemlock business...I could've given him a much more interesting death.
Well, anyway, I'm pretty sure the copyright on this expired, like, two thousand years ago, so without further ado, allow me to present...
THE SARGERIC DIALOGUE
SOCRATES: How does this day find you, friend Sargeras?
SARGERAS: Well, sir, and you?
SOCRATES: I am well. Tell me, how goes the kingdom-smashing business?
SARGERAS: Very well indeed. Though as I have told you before, I smash things much larger than kingdoms.
SOCRATES: You know, Sargeras, that I believe little of your fanciful stories about traveling among the stars. Such travel as you describe must surely belong to the gods alone.
SARGERAS: Well, think what you wish. But tell me, how is your philosophizing going?
SOCRATES: It goes as well, and pays as little, as ever. But I have a question for you also.
SARGERAS: I do not doubt it.
SOCRATES: Why do you inquire about my welfare, when you wish to destroy all life?
SARGERAS: You are always asking questions of ethics, Socrates. For months now we have practiced your art, discussing duty, society, right and wrong, love, knowledge, and scores of philosophical questions. Is it not fair that we should now practice my art for a while?
SOCRATES: Your proposal does seem just.
SARGERAS: In that case, would you like to see something wicked sweet?
SOCRATES: Indeed, as wicked sweetness is the very paragon of sweetness, there can be nothing sweeter. Please proceed.
SARGERAS: In my hand I have a fireball.
SOCRATES: I could hardly fail to notice. It is the size of the Parthenon.
SARGERAS: And is that your friend Euripides over on yonder hill?
SOCRATES: It is indeed.
SARGERAS: Check this.
SOCRATES: You have obliterated Euripides!
SARGERAS: And good aim from this distance, I must say.
SOCRATES: This is a highly immoral act.
SARGERAS: Back to ethics again! We agreed we would not talk of ethics today.
SOCRATES: Very well. I must honor my word. It is wrong to lie.
SARGERAS: Again with the ethics!
SOCRATES: I am sorry. It is sort of "what I do." Please, continue.
SARGERAS: And is that not Sophocles, on yonder other hill?
SOCRATES: Oh dear.
SARGERAS: BAM!
SOCRATES: Yes, that is rather, er, interesting...
SARGERAS: Look, a farmer!
SOCRATES: No longer.
SARGERAS: And over there is a cow!
SOCRATES: Its life is assuredly ended.
SARGERAS: Do you want to try?
SOCRATES: Um.
SARGERAS: You promised, remember? Here, just take this fireball...
SOCRATES: Oh! It is exceedingly hot.
SARGERAS: Then you'd best get rid of it. Look, there's an orphanage!
SOCRATES: Oh my.
SARGERAS: Great job! Look at 'em run!
SOCRATES: I fear I must be leaving.
SARGERAS: You can hear 'em scream even from this distance! That was amazing, little dude!
SOCRATES: Yes, well, I have to go home. To, er, tend my garden. Yes, that's it. Goodbye, Sargeras!
SARGERAS: What, so soon? Socrates, it is not right to lie, as you have told me many times.
SOCRATES: We agreed we would not discuss ethics! And besides, I think perhaps it is time I, er, thought of a new philosophy.
SARGERAS: One that doesn't involve massacring orphans?
SOCRATES: Yes indeed! Come along, Plato.
PLATO: Yes, Teacher.
SOCRATES: Plato...you're not writing this down, are you?
PLATO: That was wicked sweet, Teacher.
SOCRATES: You'd better not let one of your students tutor a warrior who goes on to kill thousands of people.
PLATO: Wouldn't dream of it, Teacher.
SOCRATES: I am freaking serious.
PLATO: ...want to go watch 300?
SOCRATES: ...
PLATO: ...
SOCRATES: ...
PLATO: ...
SOCRATES: ...yes.
Hey, hello, hi, how are you, this is Sargeras of the Burning Legion and I'm very excited to be here today on Kate's blog, Tastes Like Lint! Based on her blog's subtitle, I see already that she and I have one thing in common: we both Never Shut Up. And what's more, I have proof.Looking through my old files, I came across this gem from 406 B.C. - one of Plato's heretofore unpublished dialogues between myself and the esteemed philosopher, Socrates. I still remember that little guy - kind of scrawny, a scraggly beard, but a pretty decent sort of fellow. Sort of awkward, the way that Plato dude always followed us around taking notes. Shame about that hemlock business...I could've given him a much more interesting death.
Well, anyway, I'm pretty sure the copyright on this expired, like, two thousand years ago, so without further ado, allow me to present...
THE SARGERIC DIALOGUE
SOCRATES: How does this day find you, friend Sargeras?
SARGERAS: Well, sir, and you?
SOCRATES: I am well. Tell me, how goes the kingdom-smashing business?
SARGERAS: Very well indeed. Though as I have told you before, I smash things much larger than kingdoms.
SOCRATES: You know, Sargeras, that I believe little of your fanciful stories about traveling among the stars. Such travel as you describe must surely belong to the gods alone.
SARGERAS: Well, think what you wish. But tell me, how is your philosophizing going?
SOCRATES: It goes as well, and pays as little, as ever. But I have a question for you also.
SARGERAS: I do not doubt it.
SOCRATES: Why do you inquire about my welfare, when you wish to destroy all life?
SARGERAS: You are always asking questions of ethics, Socrates. For months now we have practiced your art, discussing duty, society, right and wrong, love, knowledge, and scores of philosophical questions. Is it not fair that we should now practice my art for a while?
SOCRATES: Your proposal does seem just.
SARGERAS: In that case, would you like to see something wicked sweet?
SOCRATES: Indeed, as wicked sweetness is the very paragon of sweetness, there can be nothing sweeter. Please proceed.
SARGERAS: In my hand I have a fireball.
SOCRATES: I could hardly fail to notice. It is the size of the Parthenon.
SARGERAS: And is that your friend Euripides over on yonder hill?
SOCRATES: It is indeed.
SARGERAS: Check this.
SOCRATES: You have obliterated Euripides!
SARGERAS: And good aim from this distance, I must say.
SOCRATES: This is a highly immoral act.
SARGERAS: Back to ethics again! We agreed we would not talk of ethics today.
SOCRATES: Very well. I must honor my word. It is wrong to lie.
SARGERAS: Again with the ethics!
SOCRATES: I am sorry. It is sort of "what I do." Please, continue.
SARGERAS: And is that not Sophocles, on yonder other hill?
SOCRATES: Oh dear.
SARGERAS: BAM!
SOCRATES: Yes, that is rather, er, interesting...
SARGERAS: Look, a farmer!
SOCRATES: No longer.
SARGERAS: And over there is a cow!
SOCRATES: Its life is assuredly ended.
SARGERAS: Do you want to try?
SOCRATES: Um.
SARGERAS: You promised, remember? Here, just take this fireball...
SOCRATES: Oh! It is exceedingly hot.
SARGERAS: Then you'd best get rid of it. Look, there's an orphanage!
SOCRATES: Oh my.
SARGERAS: Great job! Look at 'em run!
SOCRATES: I fear I must be leaving.
SARGERAS: You can hear 'em scream even from this distance! That was amazing, little dude!
SOCRATES: Yes, well, I have to go home. To, er, tend my garden. Yes, that's it. Goodbye, Sargeras!
SARGERAS: What, so soon? Socrates, it is not right to lie, as you have told me many times.
SOCRATES: We agreed we would not discuss ethics! And besides, I think perhaps it is time I, er, thought of a new philosophy.
SARGERAS: One that doesn't involve massacring orphans?
SOCRATES: Yes indeed! Come along, Plato.
PLATO: Yes, Teacher.
SOCRATES: Plato...you're not writing this down, are you?
PLATO: That was wicked sweet, Teacher.
SOCRATES: You'd better not let one of your students tutor a warrior who goes on to kill thousands of people.
PLATO: Wouldn't dream of it, Teacher.
SOCRATES: I am freaking serious.
PLATO: ...want to go watch 300?
SOCRATES: ...
PLATO: ...
SOCRATES: ...
PLATO: ...
SOCRATES: ...yes.
Monday
Vicious Glee
Today, Izsera and I had a rather bad experience. One of our friends on Sen'jin was helping out a new guild and wanted her help in Naxx as the guild is very short on experienced level 80s. As she's been missing her Hunter a lot, she was happy to join up and help out.
Things had been going so well, too; one or two bad Heroics with a healer that has confidence issues, but the Naxx 10-man full clear put her in a much better mood. So today, even though she wanted me to run her new little Death Knight through Zul'Gurub, she agreed to DPS for Halls of Stone at Heroic difficulty.
I watched the run; it seemed to start off pretty well, the first boss is never a problem, and even though they employed a flawed strategy on the Maiden of Grief to get the achievement, at least they got her down on the first try (no achievement though). Then a little hiccup as the tank pulled 3 groups at once and got everyone but her killed, then another as the tank pulled 4 mobs at once, 2 Unrelenting Constructs and 2 Raging Constructs. Given the gear level of the group, that was more than they could handle.
This is where I come in: After they die trying that, they need a new DPS as one of the others has run out of time. I offer, they invite and summon me in. The tank says "just so you know I'm going to do it exactly like that again."
"If you do, Izsera and I are going to stand back, Shadowmelded, and watch you all die," was my response. "Possibly laughing," I added on as an afterthought, excessively mean but they made Kate sad. So in we go, and the tank does exactly the same thing again, and dies in exactly the same manner.
On the one hand, I feel slightly guilty for letting the group die like that without lifting a finger, on the other hand I did tell them what we would do. I just don't feel anything more than empathy for the other Death Knight in the group who went in there with them.
I've died too many times to people doing stupid things and forcing me to come along and take the indignity of dying for no other reason than I'm there in the group anyway. It felt nice to call out exactly what was going to happen, watch it happen, and be able to say 'I told you so,' all without having to get smashed flatter than a pancake by insane, raging golems.
Things had been going so well, too; one or two bad Heroics with a healer that has confidence issues, but the Naxx 10-man full clear put her in a much better mood. So today, even though she wanted me to run her new little Death Knight through Zul'Gurub, she agreed to DPS for Halls of Stone at Heroic difficulty.
I watched the run; it seemed to start off pretty well, the first boss is never a problem, and even though they employed a flawed strategy on the Maiden of Grief to get the achievement, at least they got her down on the first try (no achievement though). Then a little hiccup as the tank pulled 3 groups at once and got everyone but her killed, then another as the tank pulled 4 mobs at once, 2 Unrelenting Constructs and 2 Raging Constructs. Given the gear level of the group, that was more than they could handle.
This is where I come in: After they die trying that, they need a new DPS as one of the others has run out of time. I offer, they invite and summon me in. The tank says "just so you know I'm going to do it exactly like that again."
"If you do, Izsera and I are going to stand back, Shadowmelded, and watch you all die," was my response. "Possibly laughing," I added on as an afterthought, excessively mean but they made Kate sad. So in we go, and the tank does exactly the same thing again, and dies in exactly the same manner.
On the one hand, I feel slightly guilty for letting the group die like that without lifting a finger, on the other hand I did tell them what we would do. I just don't feel anything more than empathy for the other Death Knight in the group who went in there with them.
I've died too many times to people doing stupid things and forcing me to come along and take the indignity of dying for no other reason than I'm there in the group anyway. It felt nice to call out exactly what was going to happen, watch it happen, and be able to say 'I told you so,' all without having to get smashed flatter than a pancake by insane, raging golems.
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