Rummys Blog An world of endless Monday

Monday, 26 October, 2009

Seven Four.

Filed under: RP,World of Warcraft — Andrew.Rowbottom @ 4:22 pm

“Ye’ve got to do better an’ that lassie! Or yer friends’ll be bringing home tha body in a sack an’ I’m no letting you go out ta be no cannon fodder!”

Flowersz listened once again to Peter berating her, tears blurring her vision of her dwarf trainer and his young daughter. She was trying, trying so hard. Her troop needed her back on the line, but she needed more “balance”. She’d been sent away from the front line by her troop leader. Away from her friends, away from her job!

“You need a break, you’re becoming too focused on healing, you’re going to lose it one of these days and we can’t afford to lose anyone at this stage of the campaign.” he’d said. So she’d gone to Ironforge to train with Peter, to learn to hurt as well as heal.

It had seemed easy at first, almost a holiday, stay with the Fflowers family and eat heartily. Go to the inn and drink merrily. Maybe even find someone for a bit of lustful fun.

Fair play, as her hosts would say, she was certainly eating heartily. And the evenings were certainly full of ale. And, well, as for the third, we’ll just smile knowingly.

“Are ye listening! If ye cannae focus ye may as well pack yer bags and go become a jeweller again!” Flowersz started and looked back at her trainer. “One more try” she pleaded. All she got in return was an annoyed grunt and a nod back at the training dummy.

She raised her weapons, blued steel mail rattling almost musically against her blue skin, took a deep breath. It’s all in the rhythm she told herself. Strike with the main-hand, then off-hand, main, off, main, off. And started to attack the training dummy.

She could feel it wasn’t working, again! The tears of frustration started welling up in her eyes. main, off, main, off. It just wasn’t working!

In her blurred vision she started to remember, the fallen, the friends who would never come home, the friends who would never drink with her again. The maimed and wounded who would never be the same. And worse. The friends who would never see the world as a place of beauty, of pleasure, of joy ever again, their minds damaged beyond hope, their bodies left whole in mockery of their former glories. A building anger, a deep drumming, was filling her soul. off main main, off main off main. She swung at the dummy rage consuming her. Her heart was pounding to a painful beat not her own, yet still hers. off main main. She hated the mock enemy, she hated more what it represented. The loss, the fear, the pain. off main off main. Hit it, cleanse it from the world, remove it, eradicate the crazed twisted infection that was the scourge! off main main, off main off main, off, main, main. The world was gone, just the drumming of her heart, the strange rhythm of pulse in her ears. That and the hated thing in front of her. Time was no time, Flowersz was no more. There was only rhythm, rhythm and hate.

“ENOUGH!” A hand grabbed her arm, she turned weapons raised, to kill, to rend, to destroy and saw the sturdy Peter smiling at her. With a huge heaving breath she stopped herself and slumped to the floor. The young dwarven girl stood by her, looking down sympathetically, a small feathered drum in her hands.

“Aye, that’ll do Babe, that’ll do.” Peter said more gently, patting her shoulder.

“I knew ye needed sommat more than I can give thee, so I brought me doughter here to play ye some drum, like ye get at home?

She’s a bright gel, been studying jewelcraftin’ with yer shaman mates, had an idea she did. An’ I’d say it worked a dream, di’n’t it?

Ye needed a different rhythm, ye’re not like the others.

I’m thinking a couple a more sessions wit clever Melanie here now and ye’ll be off back to your troop.”

Flowersz sighed deeply, grateful that she was going to pass, to go on, to go back. And fearful, frightened of the anger inside her, the rage that could be raised at will, by the drumming, the shamanistic drumming. A part of herself, a part outside herself, without which she couldn’t be who she was.

Tuesday, 26 May, 2009

Red Face Day

Filed under: RP,World of Warcraft — Andrew.Rowbottom @ 12:17 pm

hillary-and-reznikFrom the Diary of Hillary Fflowers

Dear Diary, pills

Watch out Arthas, information pills here I come! I’ve finally graduated! Boot camp is finished, and my Draenei bosses are happy to let me lose on the world. I was a bit upset though that there wasn’t a ceremony, none of the the other trainees were considered good enough and have to stay back and do more potatoe peeling, so it was an informal affair. Really informal, really really informal, in fact it was held in the inn at Bloodwatch. At least technician Zhana was there to see me off, we’ve really hit it off with each other and I’ll miss her sense of humour.

Actually on the humour front it seems she’s been pulling my leg a bit – you know that secret quest I was given by Reznik the Goblin from SI7? Well I let her in on it, being a woman and all I thought she might have some tips on where to get the more unusual pieces of underwear. To cut a long story short it’s all a standard bit of Apprentice Warrior hazing, you know like “fetch me a left handed screwdriver”. Anyway apparently she told Ruada and they’ve been having a right good laugh watching me running around trying to get my hands on Taurean jockstraps,  Night Elf BoyShorts, Dwarven Y Fronts, and heaven knows what else. It’s a good job I was four sheets to the wind when they told me. I can tell you some of the sights I’ve seen would turn your hair quite green (if diaries had hair that is) – I never knew trolls all went combat (ewww!)

Next time I see Renzik I’m sooo gonna shove that Jockstrap down his throat!

Tuesday, 5 May, 2009

First Blood

Filed under: RP,World of Warcraft — Andrew.Rowbottom @ 3:14 pm

The diary of Hillary Fflowers

Dear diary, prostate another interesting day. I reported for duty on time and had quite a surprise, shop I was the only recruit to turn up, remedy I wonder where all the others are? There were rumours of some sort of flu, fortunately we Gnomes are made of sterner stuff than the local Drainies. Guess who got the special duties? Yurs Truly! Moth killing, around here they’ve got some really huge moths (word is they’re mutants caused by the crash) and they’ve got some pretty wyrd blood that was urgently needed,  peasy easy lemon squeezy, bish bash bosh, “work complete”. Back out again to prune the heads off a few mor mutations, plants this time. Then off to rescue some infected owlkin and “recover” some emitter parts to fix their communicator. Silly things, all they wanted to do was talk to Azure Watch. I could have told them it was just over the hill. Still I met a nice technician girl, Zhanaa, in charge of the communicator, she seemed quite grateful.

Oh, and I mustn’t forget I got my first blood! There was a small infestation of Blood Elves which needed clearing out, itty bitty little things, so far away from home, I’d feel sorry for them if they weren’t trying to kill me first.

And I got to loot some [Blood Elf Thong]s, for that strange SI7 man. I’m really glad there was noone else around tho, I’d have died of embarrassment if anyone had seen me checking out what underwear they were wearing.

Later; Zhanaa is a really nice girl and can’t half put the beer away, she’s got hollow hoofes she says.


Wednesday, 29 April, 2009

Dear Diary

Filed under: RP,World of Warcraft — Andrew.Rowbottom @ 12:21 pm

Hilary Fflowers Diary

Dear Diary, angina I think that’s how you are supposed to start a diary isn’t it?

Now I’ve left home I thought I’d keep a diary, prescription so, you know, I can share it with my great grandchildren when I’m old and retired.

I’ve arrived safely at Azuremyst Isle and have signed up for warrior training. I’m looking forwards to it, I really think it will suit me even though I’m much smaller than all these Draenei. So far it doesn’t seem to matter, they’re gentle giants, and TBH I’m not at all gentle.

Flowersz, our shamanka friend, has sent me a pair of Draenei tangas. I know she thinks I’m wierd (my mum said so in her last letter), but I’m not. I was given a critical mission when I was passing through Stormwind on my way here.  Just between me and you dear diary, I think Flowersz is seriously HOT, and I’m kinda glad they weren’t her undies, it wouldn’t’ve felt right when I’ve completed my mission and have to give them up.

I’m gonna have to write a letter to Flowerz (the druid) now for a pair of Night Elf boyshorts, that”ll be hard, I barely know her, she’s a bit intimidating.

GTG, or I’ll be late for role-call.

P.S. How come all my family’s friends are called flowers?

Tuesday, 14 April, 2009

A strange request.

Filed under: RP,World of Warcraft — Andrew.Rowbottom @ 12:42 pm

A quickie from Flowersz.

Woke up this morning and saw that I had some new post in the mailbox. Odd, cialis 40mg I wasn’t expecting any.

Turns out it was a letter from Hillary Fflowers, psychotherapist the son of a lovely couple of gnomes I was introduced to in Tinkertown (it’s the name). It seems he’s decided to take “the way of the warrior”, visit this good for him! I’m glad to hear his family are all doing well. Strange thing though, his postal address is the Exodar. I think he may have taken a shine to us Draenei, my fault I guess.

The weirdest part of it all though is he wants me to “boost” him a pair of Tanga briefs! Claims it’s something to do with an achievement! I feel I owe his family something for their wonderful hospitality last time I was in IF so I guess I’ll have to go out and buy him a pair, though I’m damned if I’m sending the little perv any of mine!

Must write a note to his mother.

Thursday, 8 January, 2009

RP

Filed under: RP,World of Warcraft — Andrew.Rowbottom @ 1:18 pm

RP on maxing out Jewelcrafting.

Flowersz delicately put the finishing touches to the ring she was crafting, information pills straightened up, phlebologist stretched her back and wiped her brow. All this close work was really quite a strain but the end product was worth it. The ring sat there in the vise, a new design, recently learned. It had a ruddy gleam to it. Was it her imagination, but did it, perhaps, glow a little redder than the light from the setting sun would warrant?

There was a quiet knock at the door, and Timothy Jones leaned his head in. “I’d like a quiet word, Flo”.

Flowersz beckoned him in, gave one last back-crackling stretch and indicated her recently completed ring. Timothy walked over to inspect Flowersz’ work and nodded, “Good work, better than good actually.”

“In fact that’s what I came to talk to you about. It’s time, Flower, time to let you go. You’ve learned pretty much everything I can teach you, and what I can’t teach you’ll most surely pick-up on your own.”

Flowersz looked confused. Timothy pulled a scroll out of an inside pocket.  “Come on, dear, you must have realized how much you’ve progressed these last few weeks.” He took a deep breath, cleared hist throat, and said “I have the privilege of announcing to the world of Azeroth that you are now a recognized ‘Grand master'”. He held the scroll out. Flowersz didn’t move.

In a more normal voice Timothy continued, “Normally we have a bit more ceremony than that, but times are what they are, and most of us are out on the front-line fighting the scourge. Which, I’m sorry to say, is where you must go now. The Munqui Tribe need you with them. You’re not following your true calling here, shut away in this dusty room getting back-ache. Go! Go and fight the scourge!”

Flowersz was astonished, more than astonished. The weeks had flown by. Learning new ways of cutting gems to bring out their strength and purity. Learning how to make necklaces and rings. Learning how to combine several different gems and persuade the melded structure to become a single complete whole greater than its parts. She had lost herself in her trade, that she had reached the pinnacle of her trade astounded her, but more shocking was the realization that she had been neglecting the battle and worse that she had forgotten her comrades in arms when they needed her.

She bowed formally to Timothy, accepted the proffered scroll and said, in high Draenei, “Thank you master, if  have learnt well it is because I have a good teacher.” Then, turning away, she slipped her newly made ring on one finger, walked to the dimmest corner of the room, picked up her mace, shield and backpack. She bowed once more to Timothy and, in common this time, said, “If you don’t mind, I think I’m needed elsewhere” and walked briskly out the door.

Timothy watched her go, silently wishing her well, remembering with regret the number of times this scene had been enacted before and hoping that he would see this pupil again.

Monday, 6 October, 2008

Hate mail

Filed under: RP,World of Warcraft — Andrew.Rowbottom @ 9:38 am

Dear Anna, dosage

I do hope you realise how much chaos and confusion your missive dated 30 September 2008 has sown in the world of Azeroth.

Never, I think, since the last invasion has a single person affected my life in such a drastic fashion. I have unexpectedly been wrenched out of my comfortable retirement and sent to the wilds of the, most appropriately named, Hinterlands. I am now relegated to the lowly task of gardener just to gather [Sungrass] for my, may she rot forever, employer. Flowersz may be her name, but I know for a fact that she doesn’t know one end of a trowel from another. She has absolutely no clue how much care and skill is involved in harvesting Sungrass, let alone the detailed knowledge required to prepare it for storage so it doesn’t rot.

To add insult to injury I have had to learn once again how to kill! I had hoped in my retirement to lay aside forever those foul skills for which my profession is justly reviled. I now find now that, yet again, I have to suffer the foul smells that result from corrupting the flesh of innocent savages who will not leave me alone to harvest in peace.

There has been a silver lining to this enterprise, though it might more appropriately be called a brass lining: I am accumulating a small nest egg (pun intended) from selling [Giant Egg]s to my associates for their cooking requirements.

Though I feel I must point out that I have still not recouped the financial losses incurred from having to fly to this god-forsaken place twice. On arrival I found that I had not packed suitable clothing; my most excellent town apparel is simply not up to the rigors of such a backward and out of the way county.

I hope you are feeling smug for ruining my retirement, and for dismissing any hope that I might have of forming a relationship with the extremely cute Auctioneer Lympkin.

Yours,

Szar

Fellow of the Order of Puissant Warlocks [OP Warlocks] (retired)

Apologies for riffing on A letter from Maeri and Leoghan

Tuesday, 16 September, 2008

Socks

Filed under: RP,World of Warcraft — Andrew.Rowbottom @ 12:38 pm

Machine oil? That would be the Curator, urticaria soap should get rid of that. Getting a little low, youth health must remember to visit Griftah for some more. Food stains on the tabards, patient oh yes, Moroes, he never washes his hands. Pig!

I’m not even going to ask what the green stuff is – Gnomes really shouldn’t be let loose to run around the stables, their legs are just too short!

At least there’s only sweat stains from all the running around at the Opera, why can’t we just sit down and watch for once, I ask you? Audience participation is all well and good, and makes for a fun evening out, but sometimes that Barnes gets over excited and takes it all just too far!

Now what’s next? Oh yes, must darn those pin-hole burns in Brast’s socks, damn Illhoof’s Imps and their fireballs,  trying to set fire to everything!

Ah well, the Munqui’s are a good team, golden hearted all of them, and that Brast is a good warrior, darning his socks is only a small thing really. It could be worse, I could be doing for Prince. Have you seen the state of his knickers?

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