Archive for July, 2010

Pill settled the wool rolag on the distaff that she had planted in the ground beside her. She twirled the spindle, enjoying the feeling of the fibers between her fingers. She was humming contentedly as Gart Mistwalker sat on the sunny hillock beside her.

“Hello, Gart.” The friendly druid had insisted that she call him by his name from the start.

“Good morning, Pill. More wool?”

“I am going to make the booze thief a sweater! I heard someone saying he was cold. Or maybe the big hairy woman was. Not sure. Anyway, a sweater! Something that looks nice with his fiery hair. I have to dye it first, of course.” She smiled at the thought of it.

“It doesn’t look like any of my sheep have been shorn.” Together, they looked over the small flock of sheep that baahed in the meadow.

“Oh, no. I would touch your sheep without your permission. Besides, you said I should just study them in their natural state. So, I thought I would spin while watching.” Pill cackled as she spun the wool.

“What have you observed?” She liked the curious rumbly way that the druid teacher spoke.

“Well, they don’t seem as stupid as I always thought. I saw one figure out how to get out of his pen before I led them out here.” Pill sighed and looked down at the ground. She had not had the heart to the put the headstrong young ram back in his pen alone. “They really don’t like being alone you know!” The mage blurted out in defense.

“Which is why I had the ram separated. But it is too late now. I was trying to keep him from breeding with the ewes. He’s a little less crimpy than I wanted for my wool.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her fingers continued to wind the wool on her distaff into strong yarn. “The big old ram has been keeping him away from the ewes. Have you thought about getting a dog? I know some people with puppies…” Pill trailed off as Gart started laughing.

“We can talk about dogs later. Tell me more about sheep.”

“Well, they like to follow the leader too. And they like to eat grass.”

“And what does that tell you.” He prodded her gently.

Pill thought about this question for a long while. She continued to spin wool and watch the content little flock of sheep. “I would not make a very good sheep.” She sighed. “But I want to try!”

“Well, you are not very much like a sheep, I will admit.” The tauren agreed with her, as he patted her gently on the shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me what qualities you do share with sheep. We can work from those.”

“Well, I like to be with other people. But not just Forsaken people, like me. I like lots of people. Just, well not many pink elves.”

“Ah, the Sin’dorei do seem to rub many people the wrong way.”

“Some of them are okay. I have a priest, who is very nice but his wife is a real meanie. and bossy. And the booze thief is the worst of the lot!”

“You have mentioned this booze thief a great deal. I had the feeling that you did not like him very much. But you are making a sweater for him.”

“Well Keltyr Sunsworn is a thief! He stole all my booze one day! But, all his people are really stupid, kinda like sheep. They give me drinks whenever I demand them.” The Forsaken mage smiled broadly. “It’s really kinda convenient. I just look for the fancy tabard and go “give me booze” and they do.”

“All of them?”

The druid sounded skeptical. She was going to have to improve her storytelling. Usually, she could get away with small fibs just by blabbing things out really quickly. “Well the booze thief throws bombs! I throw bottles back, of course. But bombs are a lot more dangerous. My maggots really don’t like being singed.”

“He throws bombs at you, but you are going through all the trouble of getting wool, and making yarn and knitting him a sweater?”

Pill cackled again, still spinning. “Well it is really special wool!”

“More paladin wool?” The Tauren asked. He looked bemused by her.

“Yup. I caught his chicky walking out of a bar in Silvermoon the other night. I just happened to catch her alone. She was really drunk. Must have been some powerful stuff in that ale that night. I sheeped her quick.” She stopped spinning long enough to hold the distaff out so Mistrunner could touch it. “Isn’t that amazing? That’s almost as good as Prydion wool.”

“So you’re making this paladin a sweater made from the wool you sheered of his magicked mate?”

“Yup. Too bad she was probably too drunk to remember. Or maybe not. That one, she’s got a bad temper. She’s beaten people up for just looking at her.”

The druid teacher laughed and patted her on the shoulder again.

“So what color do you think I should dye it?” They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing the sweater, because revenge is something best done right.


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New Life

(Through a series of not quite intended events, Veec Silverdawn finally proposed to Then’liath. Now she has to pack up what little she has in her tiny room.)

“I promise your box will have a quiet space. I know how much you enjoy sunning, why don’t you just fly up to his balcony?” The fiery bird trilled in agreement and flew out the window of the tiny room. Without any further distractions, Then’liath was forced to looks at the small collection of boxes that held her life.

This was not where the priestess had imagined she would be at this point in her life. She had always imagined herself among the elite of Silvermoon. Enjoying the comforts of privilege that such a position would grant her. Certainly, she imagined more comfortable surroundings than the tiny room she had rented in the Ledgerdemain. The rooms small high window let in only the smallest amount of light, but it had been the best she could afford in the high priced establishment.

The only other option would have been to remain in Destril’s rooms. That would not have been fair to her ex-husband or to herself. She had waited far to long to take her leave from Father Redwing. She had been so foolish and so blind to have married him. In many respects, Destril Redwing was a good man. He was a man of principle. A man who stood by his friends. At first, she had been swept away by those qualities. She could not recall when she had met a Sin’dorei so forthright and righteous.

In time, however, those same qualities had chaffed. What had seemed so admirable became so much dust. He stood by his friends, to the detriment of himself and by merely being his wife, to her. He was a good principled man, but his principles were foreign to her. All the things he believed made no sense to her. He saw the Sin’dorei as one among equals and yet his hatred of trolls drove him to extreme behavior. At first, his empathetic and gentle nature had been endearing but when it drove him to hide in their rooms to be safe from the outside world it have become too much to bear.

It had been a bitter pill to recognize the mistakes she had made in marrying him. She should have known better. She should have been more aware but in her desperation for acceptance and to prove that she had not erred in choosing exile, the priestess acknowledged that she had allowed herself to be moved from the proper path.

It had only taken a year for the constant attempts to “correct” her behavior to finally open her eyes. A year of scrapping and bowing to the hubris of the lowborn Keltyr Sunsworn. A full passage of seasons until she realized that the equality that her common husband espoused was foolishness itself. How could Father Redwing, with his cowardice in the face of their ancient enemies, the trolls, seek to teach her tolerance for those who should respect at least him. Yet he tolerated it. If anything, he supported both Sunsworn and her sister as they thwarted the proper order of things. And she, to her horror, had gone along with them.

He had been her husband and she would be implicated in his crimes, were they discovered. The Sun help her, but she would keep Destril’s secrets, not out of a sense of loyalty to him but because she did love her foolish, headstrong and renegade sister. Unfortunately, Destril did not understand what needed to be done. He would never be the man she needed. Hopefully, time would help him understand that.

She had never wanted to hurt him, but what kind of life would they have had if she had maintained the charade of contentment? She had imagined it so many times. Surrounded by children, her own and that of Destril’s sneaky little brother, in a house far removed from everything she enjoyed. She would have been wearing simple homespun, a fake smile plastered on her lips as she danced simple country dances. And, in the dark of night, there would have not been silence. How could there have been, with that menagerie that Destril had kept with him. In all the time she had known Destril, she had not once been alone in his presence. When they had sex, little eyes had watched them, listening to her as she cried out in passion. And he thought nothing of this. Thought nothing of the hours spent caring for them. Their children would have been simply more creatures for him to care for.

No, that was the nightmare she had built up in her own mind. Perhaps it would not have been like that. It could have been different, but Destril deserved a woman that would be content with all that he had to offer and that woman had not been her. Even if he could not accept that truth, she had understood it. Then’liath vowed she would leave this last bit of angry accusation in this soon to be empty room.

She looked at the glittering ring on her finger and felt, once more, the icy hand of doubt grip her heart. What if she was making another mistake?

No, not this time. There was no reason to suspect that Veec would be anything different than what he was. And this time, Then’liath knew that she was deluding herself into seeing Veec as being something he was not. She had learned that lesson through heartache and she would not repeat it.

She closed another box and stacked it beside the door. Soon, Veec would come to help her move them upstairs to their rooms. Last night he had been full of words that signified their upcoming union; their rooms, us, we. It was those small little things that were both touching and frightening.

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Commissioned art

I requested a piece from Loreli of aodstudios. I gave her some screen shots of Keltyr and referred her to the RP posts written about him and Dorri. The first picture she started was more martial in appearance. but she scrapped it for this one.

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In my previous Pill story there is a mention of paladin wool. My gtalk message has been about paladin wool. In that atmosphere comes a gtalk message from Failyle

Failyle: Paladins do make the best wool. I’m sure Dorri’s hair could shorn into a fantastic sweater.

Itanya: That might already have been suggested.

Failyle: The O’conner look might be a good change of pace for her as long as she doesn’t rip up a picture of Lady Liadrin on live TV.

Keltyr Addendum: Dorri’s hair could clothe millions! but it would be the angriest clothing ever

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“Hey, Cow! Are you Gart Mistrunner?” Pill peered up at the tauren.

The morning air on Red Cloud Mesa was chilly, but the bull in question was standing outside a well built tent in nothing more than a kilt. “Did you need something, Forsaken?”


“I’m afraid I am not a dispensary. There are some of your kind at Thunder Bluff. Perhaps you could inquire there for what you need.”

Pill scowled. “BAH!” With effort, the little mage reigned herself in. She held out her hand in greeting. “No, that’s my name. Pill. Pill the Witch!” She cackled and adjusted the tall pointed purple hat that perched on top of her head.

The tauren encased her small hand in his and gave it a brief shake. She noted that he did not wipe his hand on his kilt or his pelt, which was odd for most druids. “Very well then, Pill the Witch. What can I do for you?”

“I wanna learn to turn into a sheep.”

“A sheep?” The Druid chuckled deeply and smiled. He reminded her a little of Bullhoof with that. He was not going to just dismiss her out of hand. Pill decided that she liked him immediately. “Changing forms is a gift from the Earthmother, Forsaken.”

Pill gave a long-suffering sigh. The mage had heard this before. “I can change other people into sheep! Not for very long, well I can but I have to keep casting and it’s really not that effective. But… Verdus says to stay a sheep, I need training to be more sheep like.”


“Yup, he’s a cow druid too. He’s pretty okay. And there is this gnomey mage in Dalaran that gives out wands to turn people into sheep. Sheep are really useful, you know. You can make the best socks out of wool. Paladin wool is the best of all!” She pulled a clump of newly sheered wool out of her satchel and help it up to the tauren’s snout. “It’s very soft! And once you get it carded and spun, it’s really good.”

The tauren chuckled again. He touched the ball of raw wool with one hand, making those noise that told her he was actually judging its value. “Yes, very nice.” She stuffed the wool back in her satchel. “That was a paladin’s wool?”

“Yup. A very grumpy paladin. She’s with those meanies led by the booze thief.” She immediately realized that was not going to make any sense to the bull, but he politely listened to her. “I mean, it was Hammaryn from the Prophecy of Light.” She corrected herself with a smile.

“I’m not sure I understand why you want to turn into a sheep.”

“Well, I like sheep! Lots of people think I am trying to be one. So, I thought I would try and turn into one.”

“I see.”

“It seemed like a great idea when Verdus first mentioned it.”

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So, in an undocumented vaguely referenced incident that we never really worked on, Bricu, Dorri and Keltyr faced off in the aftermath of Wrathgate. Bricu trying to keep the Alliance, including King Chin, from attacking Thrall, while Dorri and Keltyr were out for blood. As I mentioned, we never really did much with it, except bandy the idea around. Dorri and Kel call Bricu the “Peacemaker” because of it. I imagine they probably exchanged words. Well, I am not sure if Keltyr speaks common, but I know Dorri does.

Well, Bricu’s player and I have been having IC interactions over at WTT:[RP]. It’s been a bit of a way to blow off steam since the pressure of losing RL friends from WoW due to Blizzard’s stupidity has finally blown over.

Now, I don’t get to interact with Bricu’s player as much as I would like. (He is incredibly close to Threnn/Davien’s player who is married to Ghaar, who not only helps me lead the Anvil Raid but is among my closest friends.) There are a multitude of reasons behind it and I’m not going to go into sundry details cause they aren’t important. Bricu’s player is an awesome SoB who I wish I had more time to interact with and generally be cool around.

So, there we are. I am having fun, being a little silly and hoping that neither Davien nor Rashona strike me dead while I am having it.

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I won’t give all the reasons why I think it is a bad idea. You are all more than welcome to check out the blog posts from Too Many Annas or Panzer Cow. They’re all really good reasons.

No, my heart is breaking because people I know and love are leaving the game because of it. And I hate it.

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