I am DONE with the rough draft of my Petronius paper! It’s no good to me to try revising a paper the same day I wrote the first draft; so, since I have truly done all I can on it for tonight, now for some guiltless procrastination.
This probably explains why Alduine still isn’t seeing the new skirmish available that she was supposed to see at level 40. Is the Barrow-downs one the level 40 one, then?
Alduine’s still skirmishing at Amon Sul and Gondamon, undeterred by the unavailability of the Barrow-Downs skirmish. Here’s a happy memento of Weathertop at dawn, the Cargul defeated at her feet:
Know what my favorite part of the Amon Sul skirmish is? Keeping those five campfires lit. Seriously. I don’t know why that amuses me so much, but Alduine will leave off fighting whatever wight or bat she’s in combat with to run and relight them. I think it’s the “fwoosh!” sound when they catch fire. Shiny!
Just in case you’re getting tired of hearing about skirmishes (Alduine isn’t of doing them…yet…and if you’re not tired of the screenshots, there’s another one at the end after the cut ), let’s see what’s new in the Lone-Lands, courtesy of Horazia, because Arethryth has already done most of the Lone-Lands and is not so eager to go scouring them to find out what’s new, and Vanita has done quite a bit of it too and it’s so long since I played her that I am unsure of the burglar skills anymore, and because Horazia is a minstrel and after a week playing Alduine I am quite comfy with those skills. So here goes a Horazia liveblogging! Hm…I think I’ll try a partial in-character liveblogging, as Horazia the poetess jots down some notes for the song of her adventures. Beware, she may burst into rhyme. Horazia is in purple; and I’m…not.
Ooh, bounty quests for crafting materials have been added to the Forsaken Inn! Those are handy.
9:14 Horazia’s writing home tonight…
Well big brother, I’m sure you are having a lovely time back in the Shire, tending your garden and pounding out that epic of yours, but I do believe I’m having a finer time myself actually living the epic out here in the Lone-Lands. Oh, all right, I don’t suppose it’s quite as momentous as your Bullroarer’s Ballad, but I’m sure I’m on my way to something great. And it’s so marvelous making some practical use of my songs out here; they keep me going, you know, when it looks like a goblin might just get the better of me, and I will swear till I wear your ears out that singing as I swing my mace at a goblin’s head does put him off his guard just so much as it takes to be sure I hit him before he hits me. It works, really, though I don’t know if you could do the same with your epic. Maybe by lulling the enemy to sleep before you throw your spear at him….But all right, brother dear, I’ll leave you to your songs and me to mine. I wouldn’t trade with you, that’s a sure thing! You should see the goblins run when I sing. Now don’t tease and say that so do the Hobbits–I don’t back up the songs with hard steel back home! Oh, such a funny thing to tell you: There was this one goblin I put an end to, but not before he three or four times turned and ran, then turned around and came back to me, then ran again! Couldn’t make up his mind, so I made it up for him, and that’s one less goblin to trouble the world.
I do admire the practicality of the free folk in these lands. Know what they want done, yes they do, and they’re happy enough to pay me in coin or kind to do it. There’s a Missus Dourlily, she’s a barmaid at the Forsaken Inn out just past the edge of the Bree-lands, who’s sewing up a scarecrow from the tabards those nasty goblins wear. I marched out to an old fortress called Minas Eriol and collected a few more for her; their owners got no more use for them now! Missus Dourlily was so pleased with the tabards she showed me her pattern for the dandiest new leather gloves. I’ll send you back a pair if I can save up enough for the materials to make them.
Found a few fancy scabbards the goblins were carrying, too, and a Man called Munce was so pleased to hear me sing of the goblins I’d taken them from, he traded me some odds and ends for them. Learned a pattern from him, too, for a tough-wearing linen shirt–he said, to protect me in the ongoing struggle against the goblins. His people call themselves the Eglain–means the Forsaken, just like their Inn–and I was pleased to make their acquaintance, for they seem decent folk. I helped him get back some goods the goblins had stolen from him; saved his livelihood, I’m sure, and if that ain’t something to sing and celebrate, I don’t know what is! So sing I shall:
Old Goblin wore a bruise-red tabard
Dagger sheathed in rusty scabbard
Now tabard’s red scares crows away
And polished scabbard shines like day
For Eglain in their homes to stay!
I suppose you’ll call that a silly dog-verse, but it made Mr. Munce smile.
Oh, another curious thing! One goblin I killed had in his pocket the funniest little pendant. All polished up it was, sparkling in the sun, so that I knew it was no thing their foul kind could have made. Then a while later when I was scouting a goblin-camp, looking for their Packmaster because Missus Dourlily had asked me to get rid of him, I came across a Man tied up in their camp, and he recognized the pendant! Seems he’d had a mind to trade with the goblins–can you believe it! How down on his luck he must have been; or just not very clever, because of course the foul folk double-crossed him. Well, I helped him escape, even if he was such a blockhead to insist on searching every crate in all their camps looking for a sword he’d got from his father that the goblins had taken a fancy to.
Adventuring in these lands pays better than you’d think, Horazio: I’ve saved up a whole gold piece already. Perhaps I shall buy myself a fancy pony and ride home for a visit one of these days. Till then, I’m sending you a present–berries I found growing wild out here, sweeter than anything your tame bushes can offer. You should come out here and pick a few for yourself, you know. Finest spearman in the Southfarthing, you know you are, and it all goes to waste while you fuss over that poem and those mushrooms. Well, give my love to Mother and everyone, and keep the Shire safe for me to come home to.
Your loving sister,
Horazia is fun to play and no less fun to write. Also, collecting goblin tabards’n’scabbards and escorting Pengail out of the goblin camps* brought her up to level 23! At which point a notification popped up to remind me that now level 20 is the minimum to buy a pony…so she can go do that now! As can Vanita and Arethryth when I get back to them. Oh joy!
Here’s Horazia hunting goblins:
I shall leave you with one final Skirmish picture…
Stand at Amon Sul