Day 19: Lost

#wowscreenshotaday: lost

Zul'Aman was one of those places that terrified me if I ever died during the run (which was often) because threading my way back earned me the moniker "lost-a-lot bear." The patrols were fierce and surreptitious, and the maze of hidden pathways, and jumping over walls, through ruins and columns, tested even the best of navigational player skills.

And yet...nostalgia sets in again.

The Pug Breaker

We have a new guildmate who's really fit right in. I'm going to take credit for picking him off of the streets and inviting him. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Anyway, ran Zul'Aman with him yesterday, his first time there. It's obvious he's been playing for awhile and understands the nuances and mechanics much better than I: although getting there, it's taken awhile. (Queen of the Understatement today - rocking the crown.)

Ah, tanks.

The heroes' hubris is sometimes their strongest defense mechanism.

He marks things diamonds, expecting me to know when to hex something: I tell him I was looking for the triangle: if you insist, lady.

Most is fine, not great, but fine. We wiped on my least favorite fight, the Jan'alai fight.

Run back (hey, I didn't get lost!) and the tank says, "Hurry up, f*ckers, I gotta get on my bowflex."

Our tank.

New guildmate informs me this is a joke. (Because chip-flicking-off-of-tummy-tanks don't own bowflexes).

Next fight, I do this:

And tank asks where did that come from?

"It was in me all along."

More Zul: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGn73D13vgE

Jin'Do: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WDqRBB6ESzE

Drabble: Valor.

Axe and mace, off. Spilling dirt, dusted. Swept. Out the door. Was that blood on the clods? Trolls’ blood? Yes. Exhausted. And lonely. Not alone. Lonely. The hours in the day were still twenty-four, weren’t they? Did she miss the spell where the hours were extended, elongated, expanded, and exploded? She put the cool cloth next to her puffy eyes. Praised and picked apart all in the same light. She could do no wrong, and she could do no right. But she took care of herself, all by herself today. Made her own friends, and enemies. Half a day, vanished.

Writer's Note: Nine-hundred and eighty valor points in one day is not easy when you're not raiding, going door-to-door for Baradin Holds, or have only so many trolls to kill in so many hours. For some reason, some hair-brained reason, I thought it would be an idea, good or otherwise, to try to get all of the valor points I needed to get my leggings. It was like going on one of those speed-dating nights, I suppose. Leggings: acquired. Capped Valor Points? Almost. Only one more Zul to do, but that will happen before the clock strikes midnight on Tuesday. Damn. I already turned into a pumpkin though.

This is not a fun place to be without my friends, though. 

Ding!

Move to the next table.

Wednesday: 0 WoW: 980

Sex kitten.

Randomness.

I write in my sleep, and from the quality of this, it will probably show that I am sleep-walking, er, writing.

Part I: Sometimes you get the bear:

If you want your own kitty-cat, and some great information, go to: 

http://www.wowheadnews.com/blog=188009/a-guide-to-patch-4-1s-vanity-items-and-a-wowhead-comic

So, what bedbug bit me? Perhaps it was the excitement of a little dungeon redemption: went into Zul'Aman with Isabeaux the Beautiful yesterday evening in a PUG and received my helm.  It was extremely gracious of Isa, since she, er, he needed/wanted to go into Gurub and pick up a few things. We rolled Aman out of chance and luck (for me). We had a wonderful healer, and in my enthusiasm at one point proposed marriage, but more's the pity, for he said he was already spoken for, to quote: "I have asked another for her hand in marriage, alas." (Um, dude - I wasn't really planning on making an honest man out of you...just got caught up in the moment!) But seriously: this priest kept me ALIVE. And for the most part, was second in DPS finishing up a narrow third. Was overall pretty pleased with my bad self. 

Part II: Sometimes the bear gets you:

To fulfill my promise to Isa, as well as continue the fun, I was very excited to go into Zul'Gurub. We got a guild group together, who are all amazing players. However, once again, I was the weakest link. About a week ago, I mentioned to the guild officer that she and the guildmaster should start a podcast. Their banter, voices, and wit are highly engaging. Their intelligence is lightening fast, and they are funny. But man-oh-man, I just couldn't get in step. They were doing the Argentinian tango, and I was doing the Texas two-step. They dosey'd, and I d'ohd. I had to call it a night again because I had those pesky real-world commitments.  And yet, here I am, five hours later, writing at something that isn't my job. 

Obviously, I want to do as well with my guildmates as I do with PUGs. Better learn to tango. 

Part III: Meanwhile, back at the ranch:

Luperci is on her rotation with the Howling Fjord quests. Matty and Haanta had their turns assisting Scout Knowles, the handsome officer and his horse who are ever-thus looking out over the horizon for danger. This particular image really shows off a draenei girl's height advantage. 

Mountain of Mounts information: http://www.wowheadnews.com/blog=190915/mountain-o-mounts-a-guide-to-collecting-mounts

It's just funny.

Theme song: Do Ya/Peaches 

Suicide blonde.

Part I

Nothing like that new dragon smell.
A few nights ago, had a less-than-satisfying run in Zul'Aman. And normally, my stubbornness or "stoic patience" would have won out, but I hit the wall, BIG TIME. (This will be an important detail later.) I'll take full responsibility for my play skills and actions. (I know I can do it - the first time I went through Zul'Aman was with a PUG and we did it in about 30-45 minutes, and I didn't die, or at least maybe once, but not...) Not sure what I was doing wrong a few nights ago, but it was kind of like being at a cocktail party for a fundraiser I didn't believe in: free booze, but damn, couldn't find common ground.

But literally, the moment I needed, nay -- HAD to go to sleep, I left, and wouldn't you know? The last boss dropped my helm I need: Headdress of Sharpened Vision. No Valor Points. No Helm. Nothing. Zilch. And I am pretty sure the group had a good laugh about it. Don't blame them. Irony is funny. But I made the call: four hours of Zul and many deaths are enough for any player, and I was about 300 gold poorer, and I am not sure the wiser: we all have had our Bataan Death marches, overstated, over-extended game play experiences.

Next night, got called off the bench for Throne of the Four Winds. I don't know what the hell I am doing, and what I did do was made a lot of mistakes. This earned me a permanent spot in the Stupidest Shaman Moves of All Time, a heart-to-heart with guildmaster, and a critique and review of my player skills from a new guildmate tonight. During a PUG. There's no "I" in team, but there is also no "I" in STFU either.

And, before some the ill-fated dungeon runs, good friend started off a conversation with, "Do you mind if I tell you something and you won't get mad" talk. Three different players, three different communication styles, three different ways to look Matty up and down, and think, "What the hell is wrong with that player--she's geared, but she sucks?"

Gentlemen: I totally get it. That must be so frustrating. It's got to be like watching an ugly woman drive a Ferrari, wrong on so many levels.

The award for best, most straight-forward talk: Guildmaster.

For gentlest, kindest talk: Priest.

For "this is not the time" talk: Guildmate.

And, thinking about it this morning, I was a suicide blonde yesterday. Took my guildmaster's observations of times when I'm a badass and decided to be that badass, or at least try, and I died so many times in Deadmines last night that I was the dead being mined, my armor went to the red, and I couldn't find the number for the suicide hotline. Literally at one point, I jumped over the railing right into the ogre boss trying to take a shortcut. Instant splat. (I used to jump off of stuff when I was a kid: earned me one broken foot at age 7.)

Now, I'm not sure what it is about me that I love to run to the fire. Sprint, even.

The advice I receive is meant with good intentions. And I promise: I am not complaining or apologizing. In fact, I listen to the play style of a guildmate I admire, and she is so funny and sarcastic, that I really do appreciate her moxie. The word 'moxie' was invented for her. And that voice! (Oh, you should be in broadcasting. A million men would tune in to listen to you.)

But I'm about to pack up that little shaman and send her to Horde camp. Not because I'm insecure, apologetic, or otherwise. But point of fact: she doesn't belong to you. These next few weeks, about three of them in fact, I have some real life stuff sitting on me like a virus. If I don't have time to go to Mr. Robot, or hit the target dummies, or grind Deadmines for my bracers, or make a chart about what gear goes where, it's not because I'm ignoring your well-intended advice. But I have to put it on ice for a bit. I will chip away at her, her resto spec, and her "get out of the fire" skills when I can. I'll get to it. Or I won't, for now.

Part II

But--

sometimes I get lucky.

I know how to type /roll

Not sure why Lady Luck threw me this dragon bone, but here she is: The Black Drake from Sartharion's death. And a new title.

Happy Dragon

And she is beautiful. And I will be glad to go help anyone else who wants to roll for one. I'm good for it.

Postscript: A landslide enchant and a feathered-hug from a druid will help any girl sleep.

Theme songs:
Part I: Suicide Blonde/INXS (godspeed Michael Hutchence)

Part II: Pretenders/Brass In Pocket