Archive for Warlock

Desi de Voodoo Girl

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on August 9, 2010 by Razorstorm

This is an RP entry to provide the backstory to my warlock on Earthen Ring-US, Desdeamona, affectionately called “Desi de Voodoo Girl”.  Yes, I have two toons named Desdeamona.  This one, and my Blood Elf Paladin on Lightinghoof-US.  Don’t judge.  This will also be posted on Desdeamona’s profile on the Earthen Ring RP Network.

Your question hangs in the air.

Across the campfire from you, the young girl sits in a crouch.  The firelight dances along her dark skin, and highlights her stark white hair.  Her thick dreadlocks are tied into a thick topknot and splay out madly.  In the flickering shadowy light they almost look like pale serpents.  Her dark eyes glance at you shyly, slyly, through the tops of the dancing flames, and then return to the strange collection of materials her lap, which she seems to be manipulating deftly, though you can’t quite see what they are, nor what she’s making.

After a moment of silence she answers  you, “So, you be wantin’ ta know why I talk like dis, eh?”  She smiles slightly, her attention still at her work.   “Well, I ‘appen ta be in an accommodatin’ mood t’night, so I jes might be willin’ ta tell ya.”  Her eyes flick up to meet yours and you find suddenly feel pinned in place by a gaze much fiercer and more powerful than one would expect from this small waif of a girl.  “But, first… you gotta say what “dis”… sounds like.” Her gaze drops as she brushes a thick lock of hair out of her face, and you suddenly remember to breathe.  “Well?”

After a few breaths, you say it, “Why do you talk like a… like a troll?”

She let the question hang for a moment.  “You eva’ meet a troll, mon?”

You clear your throat, “Well… um… not really.  I mean, I faced them in battle.  But I recognize the accent from some pirates I heard speaking the common tongue in a tavern down in Booty Bay.  It’s um… very distinctive.”

She smiles broadly, her teeth stand out against her dark skin.  “I suppose it ‘tis, mon.  Very well den.  I spent de last 12 years o’ so livin’ wit de Amani down in Stranglet’orn.  Dats right, mon, I was raised by trolls.” Her eyes flick up to check your response, but she’s careful not to make eye contact this time, for which you are grateful.  They flick back down to her work, then after a moment, she took a deep breath in, the sighed as she looked off to the side, as if accessing the memories was difficult.

“I was a little girl.  Only 5 yea’s old, I t’ink.  I was sailing wit’ mah fada’ on a merchant vessel called “Da Forgotten Maiden.”   My fada’ was a fine saila’.”  She smiled sadly at the memory.  “’E was da first mate, on da ship.  My moda’ had just died from some illness, an’ he didn’t wan’ me left home all alone wit’ nothin’ but my tuta’s an’ se’vants.  So’e decided to take me wit’im.”

“We sailed down de coast from home.  On ah’ way, probably only a day o’ two from ah’ destination, which now I be t’inkin’ was Booty Bay, we run inta’ a terrible storm.  De ship was destroyed.  I rememba’ my fada’ holdin’ onta me, haulin’ me on top a’ some debris.  When I woke up, I was sittin’ in my fada’s lap, next to a small fire, watchin’ da sun disappea’ into de ocean.  Lookin’ back, ‘e shouldn’t ‘a made a fire… cause fires draw attention.  Dat very night, a troll came to ah’ camp an’ attacked us.  He ‘ad terrible magic dat gave us no hope a’ gettin’ away.  I remember tryin’ ta run away, like mah fada’ tol’ me to.   As I run down da beach, I felt like I was runnin’ through thick mud, an ‘e caught me easy.  ‘E was so big.  Bigga’ den any man I eva’ seen.  ‘E scooped me up, an carried me back to de campfire.  He tied me up and made me sit dere and watch as ‘e… as ‘e ate mah fada.”

She sniffled, her dark eyes wet around de edges.  She wiped her tears away with a dirty finger.  I offered her my handkerchief, which she accepted with a smile.

“De whole time ‘e kept tellin’ me ‘bout how ‘e was gonna eat me next.  But when ‘e was done, ‘e was wracked by a terrible headache. Den ‘e put his head in his hands ‘n cried.  When ‘e was done, ‘e looked up and said to me, “Dat was unexpected.” ‘E didn’t eat me, afta’ all. Instead, ‘e carried me back to ‘is home, and tied me up der.  ‘E said ‘e was mah  fada’ now, dat mah fada’s spirit was part o’im somehow from de eatin’.  An ya’ know, I t’ink ‘e was tellin’ da truth.  ‘E raised me as ‘is child.  I worked fa’ ‘im, cleanin’, cookin, doin’ whatevah’ ‘e tell me to.”

“We lived by ah’selves, jes ‘im & me.  ‘E was what you people would call a “witch docta,” an’ ‘e was very powerful, an’ very wise.  Occasionally we’d go visit one ‘a da nearby tribes to trade for supplies, or fa’ ‘im ta meet wit’ da elda’s to discuss t’ings.  Sometime’s we’d get visita’s comin’ ta ask fa ‘is wisdom.  De always marveled at me, called me ‘is “pretty pet.”  Dere was lotsa jokin’ about me bein’ a snack ‘e was savin’ fa lata’.  More den one asked if dey could have a nibble.  ‘E neva’ tol’ dem about de t’ing wit mah fada, o’ how ‘e felt about me, but ‘e made it very clear to all a’ dem dat I was ‘is and ‘is alone, and dat ‘e would rip out da heart o’ any dat touch me.  But dey always made it very clear dat ‘is protection was de only reason I wasn’t da next meal.  Dat’s how I spent the last 12 years.  Livin’ wit ma new fada’, tryin’ not ta get eatin’ by da trolls, by da tigers, by jes about everyt’ing.”

“I always was askin’ ‘im ta teach me ‘is magic, but ‘e neva’ would.  Instead ‘e teach me de magic o’ de plants in de jungle, an’ what ye can do wit’ dem.  I watch everyt’ing I could, and I learn little bits, but nothin’ real.  Den one day, I heard a voice.  A little voice dat offered ta teach me what ‘e wouldn’t.  An’ so I follow da voice to a small cave in da hills.  De voice tol’ me how to draw a strange circle in monkey blood, and tol’ me de words to say to summon ‘im to me.  ‘E gave me what I wanted.  ‘E taught me de magic my new fada’ wouldn’t.  I kept it a secret fa months, learnin’ from ‘im in stolen hours & minutes.” 

“Den one day ‘e found me wit mah new friend. ‘E was furious. ‘E said I what I was doin’ was evil an’ dat ‘e would soona’ eat me ‘imself den see me traffickin’ wit mah new friend.  I said to ‘im dat ‘e got no one to blame but ‘imself.  Dat I had learned more in dose few short months wit’ mah new friend den in my 12 years watchin’ ‘im.  I thought ‘e was gonna kill me right dere.  But ‘e didn’t.  ‘E jes hung ‘is head and said to go.  Get out and neva’ come back.  So I did.  I ran, and I ran until I found da road North.  I knew I needed ta get outa dere quick.  ‘E wasn’t protectin’ me any longa’, so if any a dem other trolls dat be lickin’ der lips at me fa’ 12 years past found me, I was a dead girl.  So I made mah way North, carefully, tryin’ not ta get eatin’ by da trolls, by da tigers, by jes about everyt’ing.”

She took deep, cathartic breath.  You suddenly shake your head, realizing just how focused you’d been.  “An’ das why I talk like dis.  So now you know.  T’anks for listenin.  I know it was a long story.  An t’anks for de handkerchief.  It looks so nice on mah new poppet.”  You’ve been so enraptured by the story that you never noticed that her hands had kept working on the project in her lap the whole time.  She held up a small doll made of plant husks and cloth.  Your handkerchief is tied around it’s throat.  She smiled fiercely. 

“You’ve been so helpful.  Now I need jes one more t’ing from you, but I don’t t’ink you be givin’ it willingly.”

Suddenly very uncomfortable under her piercing gaze, you stammer “Um.. What do you need.  I’m sure we could work something out?”

Suddenly a small… thing… with wings stepped out of the shadows behind her, it’s yes shining with a green fel-glow.  It smiles at you with a wicked grin.  She turned her gaze to the doll, and pulled out a sharp piece of bone from her hair.  “Dat’s de t’ing.  What I be needin’… is your soul.” With that she plunged the shard of bone into the hand of the doll.  Your hand bursts into pain, as if a knife had just been plunged into it.  She waved her hand over the head of the doll, and suddenly you realize you are running, running as far away as fast as you can in stark terror.  A stabbing pain erupts behind your knee and you fall to the ground writhing.  You look up and see her looking down at you, her hair draping down, looking even more snake like than before.

“T’anks for de meal, and de handkerchief, and everyt’ing else.”  And suddenly everything goes black.

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We Hit Level 50 & Lahruna’s leveling guide!

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on March 24, 2010 by Razorstorm

It finally happened!  Lahruna and Rayzorstorm finally hit level 50 together in a Blackrock Depths PUG the other night.  And there was much rejoicing!  (Dour Monty Python voice: “Yay.”) 

Here is the quick leveling guide, according to my wife, Lahruna. 

  1. Get sick.  Preferably sick enough that you are stuck sitting on the couch and can’t do chores around the house. 
  2. Put on a good movie that you’ve already seen several times so you don’t really need to pay close attention to it.  (She recommends Finding Nemo and the Lord of the Rings trilogy.)
  3. Get your hot hubby (or wifey) on the couch beside you doing something that keeps them busy, like applying for new jobs.
  4. Wrap yourself up in warm blanket or Snuggie.
  5. THE MOST IMPORTANT STEP: Have cake beside you as you:
  6. Run dungeon, after dungeon, after dungeon, after dungeon….

Until you finally reach half-way through lvl 49 so you and that hot hubby/wifey of yours can finally go run one more final dungeon for the day, which will be Sunken Temple.  Which will then take an agonizing hour, which by the way is NOT refundable,  as the paladin in your group insists on doing things in the most agonizingly careful and risk-free (i.e. boring) way possible.  You will acquiesce because Sunken Temple is a friggin maze and you have no idea where you’re going. 

But at the end you will have a pretty awesome fight against several green dragons.  Somewhere along the way, you will both ding 50.  When all is done, you can retire to Stormwind, eat cake, and be merry.  I recommend having a dance party.

Lahruna, Rayzorstorm, and Graklos have a lvl 50 dance party!

-Razorstorm

Darrien -> Razorstorm -> Rayzorstorm

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on March 6, 2010 by Razorstorm

From the minute I saw Miss Medicina mention the creation of Single Abstract Noun on Argent Dawn-US, I started seriously thinking about rolling a new toon on that realm. I’d been thinking that I really needed a toon somewhere that actually used my longtime handle and now blogging pseudonym, Razorstorm, and this idea of a social guild full of chatty bloggers just made me giddy thinking about it. So I popped open the Droid Armory on my phone and checked to see if there were any “Razorstorm’s” on Argent Dawn. To my delight, none popped up! “Woohoo!” I thought, followed by, “Ah, man, another alt that I’m really going to want to play. At this rate I’m never going to get a toon to 80!” Then I had a wonderful idea, paid character transfer.

I’ve always thought of Darrien on Dawnbringer as my main, since he was my first toon, my highest level toon (not that it’s very impressive…) and he’s also the one I most identify as me, since it’s the one I play with my wife. The problem is that we have had a devil of a time finding a decent guild. I have come to realize that an active guild chat channel is one of my major factors of guild enjoyment. We don’t ask much from a guild. We quest together, we dungeon together, and we don’t take much from a bank. We don’t like to get power-leveled through dungeons that are too high for us. Mostly we just want community. We had found a small lovely group of players that were all friends in real life, and we just fit right in. And then at some point they all took a WOW hiatus, or switched their efforts to alts on other realms, or something. Whatever the cause, we were left with a silent guild chat, and usually only us online. We were low rank, so we couldn’t invite others, and we had very limited bank access. Finally we just left and joined some other guild that was recruiting in trade chat. This one was also quiet and boring. And then we tried a third with similar results. Lately we just haven’t played them because my wife has been too busy, and I get in trouble if I play Darrien without her. So I’ve been working on alts, mainly Desdaemona lately. The founding of SAN gave me a great idea: Transfer Darrien and Laruna (my wife’s warlock) to Argent Dawn and join.
I realized when doing the setting up the transfer that I would have to change Darrien’s name (Laruna didn’t have to change her’s which made it an easy sell to my wife). This wasn’t such a bad thing since I really liked the idea of having a toon named for my longtime handle: Razorstorm. I looked it up on the armory, and it said the name was free. Unfortunately, the armory lied. When it came time to change Darrien’s name, Razorstorm was not available, so I settle instead for Rayzorstorm, which is still pretty cool. However, I am totally irked by the fact that someone has my name, but is clearly less than level 10, or else the Armory would have picked them up. So some bank alt or other has my name! /grumble. So, whoever Razorstorm on Argent Dawn, I hope you value that name. And if you happen to be Horde, oh boy, you better watch out if I run into you in a battleground!
So, to wrap it all up, last night I did the transfer, today I joined the guild, and tonight I am sitting at my computer just staring at the busiest guild chat channel I have ever seen, and loving every minute of it! Now I have to peal my eyes from the chat channel and go farm some leather!
-Razorstorm (or Rayzorstorm, I guess I can get used to that…)