…You’re probably all wondering where I’ve been huh?  Or maybe you haven’t cared at all.  That’s a valid response to a missing person.  I guess.  Anyway, those of you on twitter might know that my real life has been catching up to me.  Like a lot.  I am in a wonderful relationship, I’ve been back in school trying to get a certificate, and I’ve been playing a LOT of games both on the table top and digitally.

So believe me when I say that I’ve been wanting to update this blog a LOT, and for like a while.  But every time I sit down to write something, well…  I don’t have the time or patience to come up with something to say.  I used to wax poetic (okay, I waxed limerick) about any little thing, but some of the old old old Oddcraft posts (and hats off to you if you’ve stuck with me that long) took almost an entire day of just brainstorming a way to make a dam with three heads on it funny.

Okay, now you’re all probably giving me that ‘Oh Vry’s claiming to quit blogging again better bust out the tiny violin’ BUT NO! I ain’t quittin.  Nuh uh.  Not in the least.  I’ve simply changed tactics.  Instead of writing big elaborate fancy blog posts… I’ve downsized to small quirky Tumblr posts.  Oh yes.  I’ve switched my activities to tumblr.  But the weirdness goes on!  Just in bite sized portions.

As for this blog,  well, she ain’t goin anywhere.  Never say never as a French pigeon once told me.  Who knows how far down in the future I might want to spruce up this blog and do something “real” and “serious” for a while.  Never know, right?  But I felt I owed to those brave souls that actually chose to follow my ramblings that you can still find more weirdness from the Hat on topics including, but not limited to:  WoW, TOR, Rift, D&D, Movies, Cartoons, Anime, Doctor Who, video games, video game news, Doctor What, Funny thoughts, Silly Pictures, Silly thoughts, Funny pictures, Doctor Where, science, rants, things I like, things I don’t like, Doctor Why, aaaaand  probably not sports. Never cared for sports.  Except golf.  How weird is that?

Anyway, if you want to find my fancy little Tumblr and see more weird noises and scribblings from Vrykerion (Me.) simply click the big link below.  From there you can either follow me as a Tumblr user by clicking “Follow” (fancy that) or you can subscribe to the weird by clicking the little RSS icon on the right hand side.

Hope to continue to bring you smiles, laughs, and something to show the Judge and say ‘Look, at least I’m not THIS guy’.

That Tumblr I Spent An Entire Post Talking About

I know most people don’t like it because they feel the need to do everything, always, forever and what not.  But for me, it’s the perfect pace of content.  I do about two different ones at any time and work my way through exalted.  Do I valor cap? No.  But I really don’t NEED to.  I gear up through dungeons, scenarios, and now LFR (Finally.  And loving it by the by.)  Valor stuff I buy when I have enough and there’s something I can use.  So ultimately it just gives me something fun to do every day I log in that short enough that it doesn’t take forever (Eyes on you Belsavis TOR dailies. Ugh.), and I honestly don’t feel like I’m doomed if I skip a day because I’m not feeling it.  Because hey, dailies are always there.  Even at level 135, these dailies will still be there. So get to them whenever.

But in the wake of so many people talking about how they DON’T like dailies at all, I decided to compose a silly little ode to them that makes me smile.  Maybe it’ll make you smile too?:

~~~

Dailies here. Dailies there! Dailies can be found most anywhere!

In pagodas and on the steppes, do your dailies to grind those reps!

Help stop mogu in the Vale, roll down the spine and fly off the rail.

Train your serpent amongst the Jade, hunt for eggs before they fade.

So many dailies you can do! So many you’ll start to rue. Don’t forget farmers, fishers and gods. They need your help to get along.

Help preserve the August Celestial brand and fight in temples across the land.

Farm and fish, fish and farm – but remember you won’t make friends if you wish them harm!

And unless we forget there’s those nice bugs too, the Klaxxi are your friend until they eventually decide to turn on you.

And now we have a war going on. Sheildwall and Dominance are here to play along. (Just don’t upset the King or Garrosh, or else you might end up with your head cut right off.)

So many dailies you can do! So many you’ll start to rue. With even more in five point two!

(But remember you must cap that valor, yes you do – or else we’ll raid without you!)

Vry’s Answer:  Time travel.  Go back to when he was an apprentice and smash his head with a rock.

If that fails, just use any interrupt you can when he begins to cast his different field spells and Force Storm can easily be moved away from since you’ve got a big room.  That said, Move out the bad when you don’t interrupt it.  Don’t bother interrupting his lightning spells. Use the Thrones in the dark council chamber to break line of sight on the lightning when you can.

As an assassin I used Talos to keep me healed and kept Thanaton far away from him so he never got stuck in any of the bad AOE stuff.

Ultimately, I think you’re better off with the Time Travel.  Might want to try a shovel instead of a rock.  And bring Khem Val.  He’ll eat him. No evidence.  It’s a good thing.

But I was thinking about the Immortal Ironman version of the rules, and the past World Firsts that made it with no deaths, and I realized that there was an aspect of that whole challenge that really bothers me.  Something I think kind of undermines at least what I personally sought to see with the original Ironman Challenge and one of the reasons I didn’t WANT a ‘No Death’ rule in the game.

It makes you play it safe.

The 85 Immortal Ironman? Dinged doing level 80 dailies.  The 90 Immortal Ironman? Questing in Hyjal.  Are you kidding me?  I mean, yes. You did something amazing, hardcore, bad ass, all that. But come on people.  You can’t even do it in the current expansion’s content?  You could just do damn dailies over and over until you ding.  That’s…  borderline cowardly!

In my mind, Ironsally did it right.  Ironsally went into Hyjal and Deepholm and did battle against things that were compared to trying to solo raid bosses.  That is awesome.  And yes, she died.  But survival wasn’t the goal.  Conquest – VICTORY – was the goal.  And victory she achieved.  She killed them.  She waded into hell wearing her skivvies and emerged bloodied, beaten and victorious.

I really don’t want to diminish the victories of those who decided to undergo the Ironman Challenge with the no death rule.  It’s still an amazing accomplishment.  But in my mind, to play it safe is the undermine the true goal of the challenge.  To face the forces of darkness with nothing but barest of essentials.  To see if you could do it.  To see if you can even HIT or KILL a level 85 monster at level 84 with nothing but your underwear and a wooden sword.  That’s where I was going in my mind when the initial conversation on twitter took place, that’s still where the REAL challenge is in my mind.

But that’s not what the community wanted.  They made the challenge they wanted.  They took our framework and modified it.  That’s fine.  They have their champions, we have ours.  But if they want a challenge.  A REAL Ironman, best of the best, Ironman challenge.  Allow me to offer one additional rule to pair with their hardcore ‘No Death’ one:

14. No Daily Quests.

I’m asking you to show me how ‘Iron’ you are. I’m saying drop your safety net.  I think we’ve shown that Ironman is doable and Immortal Ironman is doable.  Now I’m upping the ante.  Show me what you have, WoW community.  I’m eager to see how tough you are.

Ashley: Shepard, what are you doing with Dr. Bryson’s experiment?
Shepard: Going a-head with the war, Ash.
Ashley: No. We’re not doing this.
Shepard: But they say two heads are better than one!
Ashley: I’m dumping you.
Shepard: Thanks for the heads up.
Ashley: Scratch that. I’m gonna kill you.
Shepard: No need to lose your head!
Ashley: GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
BANG! POW! BOOM!

Meanwhile on the Lower Decks…
James: Best. Idea. Ever.
Liara: I concur.
EDI: Indeed.

Long ago in a distant land, I, Nozdormu, the shape-shifting Dragon Master of Time, unleashed an unspeakable evil!

But a foolish group of heroes wielding magical purples stepped forth to oppose me.

Before the final blow was struck, I tore open a portal in time and flung them into the future, where my evil is LAW!

Now the fools seeks to return to the past, and undo the future that is MUROZOND!

Where the #$%& Have You Been?

Real life caught up to me.  I don’t know what else to say.  I’ve gotten into a wonderful relationship with a fantastic girl, I’ve got a D&D game going full steam, and somewhere in there I still try to level my characters in TOR, WoW and DDO as well as play other games.  Life is just… full at the moment.

What the #$%& Does This Mean For the Blog?

Honestly? I haven’t a clue.  I don’t want to abandon this blog.  The name and the spirit of which stay true in my opinion.  It’s not always funny, but I’d like to think it’s always a bit weird.  I’m not always funny, but I am ALWAYS weird.  So I’d like to keep it.  Much like Oddcraft, it might become one of those things I just update whenever.  I don’t know yet. That’s what I’m working on figuring out right now.

What’s the #$%&-ing Plan?

What did I just say!?!  Okay, okay, okay.  Here’s one idea I’m tossing around.  I have no idea if it’s any good, so why don’t you tell me.  A video.  Once a week, I do a video.  Dunno when, but sometime during the week.  It could be a long video, it could be a short video.  It might be talking about video games, or comic books, or a cartoon, or it just might be a ‘Vry Rants’ or even a few ‘Ask Vrykerions’ in there.  All depends on what I’m feeling.  That’s one idea. How’s that?

Other Questions From Google Search Hits:

Is Adventure Time Really a Post-Apocalyptic Earth?

Yes.  It is.  This is not a “Theory”.  This is a stated flat out fact by Pendleton Ward, creator of the show, during an interview with Wizards of the Coast:

Adventure Time is about two buds, a young paladin in training named Finn and his shapeshifting dog Jake. They live in “Ooo” which is post-apocalyptic Earth, after the bombs have dropped and magic’s come back into the world.

There’s no if’s or maybe’s there.  The show takes place on Post-Apocalyptic Earth.  No discussion needed.  Now the real fun is trying to piece together what happened…

Is Dr. Caitlin Fairchild a lesbian in the New 52?

No clue.  At least not officially.  It came up as a possibility a few times in the Superboy comics, where Rose Wilson implies that they may have been something more than just friends, and again during The Culling crossover when Rose confronts Caitlin about being betrayed by someone you care deeply about.  However, since Caitlin got her own book with The Ravagers, it hasn’t really come up again.  They’re too busy drawing her in bikinis for no particular reason.  So the answer is… Possibly?  Let’s just hope if she is, we get something better than introducing us to her lover and then immediately killing said lover off. (I’m sorry, Alan Scott.  I really, really am.)

What is the first breather mask you get in SWTOR?

While the earliest you can technically get one is level 10 if you are a Sith Juggernaut and have a Legacy level of 10 from the Legacy armor vendors on Dromund Kaas, beyond possible random drops I know for certain there is at least one for both medium and heavy armor on the Nar Shadaa commendation vendor.  It’s moddable, which is the one I used for my bounty hunter by switching everything out for +Aim stuff.  There might be one from a quest… No clue there.

Gnome Death Knight names?

Find something cute or technology-y, like Puff or Sprocket, and then add the word “Death” to it.  If it’s already taken, try shortening Death to Deth.

“Swtor Darth Zash Sex”?

Uhh…  Female? O_O;;; (How did this lead you to my blog again????)

Vrykerion’s eye twitched and lips curled.  He dropped his shield and rose with sword in hand.  Holy energy began to swirl around him like crackles of lightning in the air.  Waeryn and Jolsin, wide eyed in fear and awe, stepped back out of the room.  Vrykerion bared his teeth, grinding them into each other so hard that his jaw would be in pain for the rest of the week.  He did not care.  He didn’t care about anything except for the monster in front of him.

The stone floor erupted in flashes of consecrated light.  His sword ignited with ripples of holy energy. He tightened his grip on the handles as divine power flashed and erupted into yellow lightning around his body.

“Your brain.  You’re thinking about it too much.”

 “Now try it again.  But this time, don’t THINK the target is an enemy.  FEEL it.”

 Vrykerion did feel it.  It didn’t matter if he never felt anything again in his life, but this he would feel.  Every ounce of anguish, every lost moment of happiness – He would feel them all, and this monstrosity would feel them too, “Divine…  STORM!”

The room ignited with light, blinding both Waeryn and Jolsin momentarily.  When their eyes eventually readjusted to their surroundings, all that remained of the creature that called itself ‘Dar’Khan’ was a lump of fleshy bits and the occasional bone piercing out from the pile.

Vrykerion was on his knees next to the remains of Calowen, sobbing and screaming.  Calowen’s body was decimated; her entire torso was nothing but a cavity that was hollowed out like a rind of a well eaten melon. He kept trying to conjure the holy light only to have it dissipate as it landed on her body, “Damn you.  DAMN YOU!  Give her back to me!”

Jolsin stepped behind him and tried to put his hand on Vrykerion’s shoulder only to have it batted away, “Look Vry,  I’m sorry.  I really am.  The Light may be able to restore the soul to the body but…”  Jolsin voice cracked, a sob of his own joining in, “But there’s not much a body for it to return to, Vry.”

Vrykerion ignored him.  He kept trying the spells.  He filled himself with Light and tried over and over to transfer it, any of it, into Calowen’s husk of a body.

“Light damn you, Vrykerion!  She isn’t one of your gadgets or toys!  You don’t have the tools to fix her. None of us do!”

Vrykerion leapt to his feet and grabbed Jolsin’s collar, lifting him into the air slightly.  Waeryn drew his sword in preparation to defend his teammate.  Vrykerion’s eyes focused on Jolsin, his quivering lips contorting between rage and sorrow, “The Light IS my tool.  I. WILL. FIX. HER.” He threw Jolsin into Waeryn and pointed at the door.  They left, leaving Vrykerion to kneel back down and try again and again to bring Calowen back.  No one saw him again for another two days.

—

Tears fell on the parchment, leaving some stains of wetness as Vrykerion finished the last of the sketches of the myriad of assorted parts.  He had removed his goggles some time ago, and now his quill sat on the desk with them.  He looked over his drawings and notes, trying to make sure he didn’t miss anything.  A choked sob escaped his lips as he picked up the quill again to jot down a few extras notes.

For the first time in hours, he spoke, “Once the components are understood, you can work to develop primary steps for assembly.”  With that Vrykerion wiped his eyes away and took out another sheet of parchment and began to draw a schematic.

—

“What in the name of Kael’thas the traitor do you MEAN you are leaving the Blood Knights?” Kitarin screamed at his son, mere inches from his face, “Do you want me and your mother to die copper-less in these slums?  Maybe a warlock will use our souls to conjure a demon now that you’ve RIPPED THEM OUT!”  His father’s fist, easily dodged, slammed into the wall.

“Kitarin, please, maybe we should hear his reasons,” Vrykerion’s mother, Arista, pleaded.

“What reason could he possibly have to justify murdering his own family?!”

Arista sobbed, “Please can we at least wait until after you’ve come down off the thistle to talk about this?”

“And where will you go, Sir Paladin?  Will you join the war to be a big hero like your brother?  You want to die to those kaldorei bastards like him too?”

Vrykerion stood there, without an expression on his face.  His cold and dead eyes peering out from the broken lens of his goggles dangling from the first punch that his father did actually land, “No.  I have no interest in joining the war.”

“Then where will you go?” Arista asked, her small voice penetrating through the crying.

“I don’t know.  Away.” Vrykerion said.  His voice was a forced monotone, “Away from here.”

“You arrogant piece of filth!  At least Herio was a war hero.  You?  You’re just a coward to abandon your family. And after everything we did for you?  We put you in that academy, and we gave you everything your brother left behind, just to make sure you had a good and prosperous life,”  Kitarin stepped back shaking his head.

“You did that because you blew every silver on bloodthistle and got thrown out of the Exchange and you wanted Herio and then me to drag you back into the limelight by having some level of respectability.”

Kitarin let out a roar and dove at Vrykerion.   Vrykerion grabbed his wrist and threw Kitarin against the wall.  Vrykerion then proceeded to grab Kitarin’s shirt and flip him over his head and onto the table, breaking it in half.  Kitarin tried to pull himself to his feet, only to twist his back and collapse back onto the rubble.

“I would suggest not trying again,” Vrykerion said as he turned, grabbed a sack by the door, and walked out.

“Good riddance!” Kirarin shouted out from the small apartment with the cries of his mother in the background, “And don’t let me ever hear that you used our family name! You are not my son!”

Vrykerion walked across the city to the royal tower where he used the Orb of Translocation to reach the Undercity.  He drew the gnomish pocket watch out from his pants and reached his thumb to open up the lid and see the time but he stopped.  He looked at the watch for a moment and thought, ‘Time for them to be dead to me too.’  He threw the watch as hard as he could at the walls of the Ruins of Lordaeron and watched it shattered in pieces, each one raining down onto the stone floor.

He began to march off solemnly but stopped after twenty steps or so.  He turned at looked at the ruined device, scattered into wheels, cogs and springs across the ground.  He swallowed hard and ran back and gathered them all up in a small brown linen bag. He then slid down the walls of the ruined human capital and began to sob, clutching the bag tightly.  He let everything out.  The screams of frustration, the raging and hateful things he wanted to say to his father, and all the tears from breaking his mother’s heart.

After a half hour, his anguish finally began to subside. He wiped his eyes and stood back up.  The time for sorrow had ended.  The time for revenge against the Scourge had begun.

—

Vrykerion put the finishing strokes on his blueprints.  It was a lavish design, worthy of a gnome tinkerer.  He smiled at himself, “As primary steps are established, secondary and tertiary steps will automatically become apparent.”  He pulled out a pair of tweezers from his gnomish army knife and picked up a cog, “Once ready, assembly can begin.”

Thus concludes Chapter 1: Design, To Be Continued in Chapter 2: Assembly.

Thus ends the first chapter of the story. While admitedly the second part is not finished yet, trust that I will have it posted here on the same Saturday schedule when it is.  I hope you enjoyed the first half of this little tale!

The silence was broken as they reached the bottom by dry and crackled female voice coming from a room at the bottom of the last flight of stairs, “Imagine it, Dolcrim:  The Master Dar’khan’s mind and soul, in such an unstoppable body!”

A second voice chimed in, this one low and grumbly but with a slight echo to it that made Vrykerion’s blood run cold, “I should hope so.  Gandling wants the Ghostlands back in the Cult’s hands. These setbacks are growing too many in number, and this project of yours cost us nearly three legions of undead to construct.”

“Did they say Dar’kahn?” Jolsin asked.

“And who’s Gandling?” Waeryn muttered.

“Quiet.  I’m going for a closer look,” Calowen uttered and she slowly started to step down the stairway.  Step by step, her armor rattled gently.  Step by step, it felt like Vrykerion’s heartbeat was slowing.  As Calowen crept down the finally stair, Vrykerion remembers to inhale.  She peeked around the edge of the doorway and gestured back to the rest of the group: THREE SCOURGE. TWO ‘MANCERS. ONE BIG.

Vrykerion tilted his head and mouthed back down to her, “How big?”

Calowen widened her eyes a bit and nodded slightly, mouthing back, “BIG.”  She glanced back through the door for a moment and then looked back to gesture that the large one appeared to be unconscious.

Vrykerion nodded and turned back to Waeryn and Jolsin, “Here’s the plan.  We’ll split up.  You two take one of the necromancers and Cal and I will grab the other.  Hopefully, whatever this big one is we hopefully won’t rouse it.”  His team mates nodded and Vrykerion turned back to Calowen and lifted three fingers.  Then he dropped one to two fingers, then to one.

As soon as the last finger dropped into a single balled up fist, Calowen leapt into the room and unleashed a judging blast of holy power at one of the necromancers.  Vrykerion and the other two members of the team bolted down the stairs to quickly join her in the room.  The necromancers were dressed in the garb of the Cult of the Damned, one a male human with glowing blue eyes and the other a forsaken woman.  Behind them rested a massive figure, covered in a bloody sheet inscribed with necromantic runes.

Calowen and Vrykerion dashed towards the man, landing their shoulders against his chest and pushing him toward the wall.  Meanwhile, Waeryn and Jolsin got on opposite sides of the forsaken woman and begun to swing their blades, one low and the other high, in a maneuver they called ‘the double duel trap’.  The technique had proven excellent against mindless ghouls, but as their blades collided was a shielding sphere of dark magic, they quickly found themselves on the defensive. Dodging blasts and calling upon the light to cleanse the foul curses burning their flesh from under their armor.

The forsaken cackled, “You cannot stop us! The master stirs! THE MASTER COMES!”

“Silence!  Your breath is worse than your plague,” Jolsin shouted as he drove directly toward the shielding spell, shattering its protective barrier and allowing Waeryn an opening to take his sword to the necromancer’s neck from behind, severing the spinal cord and causing her to drop to the floor, still screaming her zealous proclamations.

“Finish it, Jols.”  Waeryn said.

“With pleasure.  By the Holy Light, be purged!”  A brilliant light burst forth from Jolsin’s hand, engulfing the downed necromancer.  As the light faded, a burning pile of ash was all that remained.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Calowen and Vrykerion slammed the human into the wall next to the sleeping monstrosity.  From beneath the sheet, a large hand fell out bearing several foot-long blade like claws.  Calowen brought down her mace toward the man’s face, which he caught with his hand.  She could hear the cracking of bones as it made impact causing her to wince for a moment, while the man only grinned at the sound.  Vrykerion slashed at the man’s side and cut him deep, but no blood spilt forth.

“What are you?” Vrykerion asked.

The man gave him a toothy grin, “Someone you will regret meeting.”  He then slammed his open hands into both Vrykerion and Calowen’s solar plexuses and threw them across the room.

As Vrykerion struggled to his feet, the man rushed over and clasped his hands around Calowen’s head.  He began to squeeze, causing the helm to start to crack, “Imagine what will happen to your head once I break your shell.”

“I don’t think you’ll have a chance,” Vrykerion said as he stood. Taking his sword in hand, he began to wail away at the man’s back.  Tearing through his robes and cutting deep into his back.  As chunks of fleshy flew off, there was no blood.  Instead there was viscous black ooze that just seemed to splatter out from the wounds.

The man laughed maniacally as Vrykerion hacked away at him bit by bit to the point of exposing the back of his rib cage.  He continued his anguishing squeeze of Calowen’s head.  The cracks grew larger in her helm, and as the pressure built up she began to scream.

Hearing her voice cry out in pain, Vrykerion gritted his teeth and balled up his fist. ‘No one hurts her. NO ONE.’ Vrykerion’s hand ignited with holy energy.  It took the form of a hammer as he launched his first deep through the monster of a man’s shredded back, breaking through bone and flesh until he reached the man’s heart.  Taking that organ into his hand, Vrykerion squeezed with everything he had until he felt it rupture and spilt the black tar out.  The man, hands still wrapped around Calowen’s nearly shattered helmet, collapsed.

Vrykerion threw the body to the side and grabbed Calowen, “Are you okay?” She nodded slightly, her eyes barely able to stay open.  Vrykerion’s eyes swelled with tears as he hugged her.

“Mission accomplished. Can we go back to the Sanctum now?” a winded Waeryn said, leaning up against the doorway with Jolsin.  Vrykerion looked up at them, tears rolling down his cheeks and a massive grin on his face, and nodded.

Suddenly, Calowen’s grip on Vrykerion’s shoulder tightened, “Vry! MOVE!” She shoved him aside and onto the floor just in time for him to see a massive, grey, muscly arm covered in blades and spikes rip into Calown’s chest.  It broke right through her ribs, the claws ripping right out the back of her armor and leaving a puddle of blood.

All eyes followed the arm back to its owner.  It seemed that in all the commotion that the thing under the sheets had decided to get up after all.  A gigantic abomination with four arms, each lined with claws and what appeared to be embedded swords and daggers.  It’s twisted mouth cracked open, “BehOLD, thuh Neeew DAAR’KhAAAn! I  AM reBOOOOORN!”

That was not the phrase Vrykerion had wanted to hear after having such a wonderful night, but orders were orders.  He, along with Calowen and a dozen of other new recruits were ordered to report that morning to Dame Auriferous.  Auriferous was a red headed woman wearing a red robes and a tabard marking her as member of the defense forces at Tranquillien.

“I understand each you visited here once during your trials, but this is not a quick jaunt across the runestones to kill a couple of nerubians.  You’ve been brought here to go in the heart of the infection, Deatholme, for some mop up operations.  The Scourge have been harder to rip out of there than a dwarf from the pub,” Auriferous announced.   Vrykerion glanced over at Calowen; she had gone pale in fright.  Vrykerion reached over and took her hand in his and he watched as a smile grew and some of her color returned.

“We will begin launching attacks in groups of four from the Sanctum of the Sun.  You can drop your gear and take your downtime there.  Just don’t bother the Magisters.  Any questions?”  The group stood silent.  Vrykerion wasn’t sure if they didn’t have any questions, or everyone was too afraid of the forceful elf standing side by side with a forsaken deathstalker.  After a moment of silence, she dismissed them and they began to hike down the trail to the Sanctum.

The attacks really weren’t as bad as the Auriferous had made out.  They would leave in a team of four and clear out the Dead Scar up to Deatholme and then make precision strikes against specific targets inside the fortress.  The one group attacked a mausoleum, another struck a crypt, Vrykerion and Calowen’s first target was an underground laboratory.  Over a couple of weeks, they each met with success and everyone regrouped at the Sanctum to share stories, battle tactics and have a good laugh.  Vrykerion spent his evenings with Calowen or taking apart his pocket watch and examining how it works.  They were paladins, and they feared nothing.

It wasn’t until Vrykerion’s tenth trip into the fortress that he began to notice that the dead were getting fewer in number.  He felt a swell of pride at first knowing that he had contributed to it but something in his gut sat wrong.  Why were the forces in the fortress thinning out, when the legions of undead waddling across the Dead Scar were always renewed back to their previous day’s numbers?  His team made their way across the foul grounds of Deatholme, the sickening stench of rotten meat still filled the air.  They ascended the steps of a ziggurat, finding it completely unguarded and ultimately empty.

“This is wrong,” said Waeryn, one of Vrykerion’s other teammates; “There should be something in here. No one has been in this far.”

Vrykerion’s other teammates, Jolsin, smiled and let out a laugh, “Maybe they retreated.  Decided they couldn’t best us and just packed it up and headed home.”

Calowen looked at Vrykerion with a stern look on her face and he met hers with an equally concerned one.  She turned to Jolsin, “The Scourge do not retreat.”

Waeryn shifted nervously, looking around in fear of an ambush, “Regardless, the objective is complete. We cleared out the ziggurat.  We should head back.”

They looked back and forth amongst the group a few times, silently nodding along with the idea.  Vrykerion sheathed his blade, “Very well then.”  One by one they exited, making sure to watch every dark corner as they stepped outside.  That’s when Vrykerion saw it.  A pillar of green smoke coming from the necropolis at the center of the fortress, “Has anyone reported that before?”

Calowen shook her head, “No.  That most certainly is new.”

Waeryn looked back and forth at Vrykerion and Calowen, “No.  NO.  We did our job.  Mission complete. We are not going in there.”

“Oh come on, Wae-wae.  It’s not like we’ve encountered a single thing thus far that four of us couldn’t best,” Jolsin taunted, nudging Waeryn toward the necropolis.

“Cut it out you two,” Calowen scolded, “What do you think Vry?  It’s not our job.”

Vrykerion shook his head, “We’re paladins, Cal. It IS our job.”

Calowen nodded and drew her shield and mace, “As you say, sir.”

Waeryn, however, did not draw his weapons, “No. I’m sorry, but no.  I’m not getting killed going against the battle plan just because you two are sneaking off to fondle each other in the bushes every nigh-”

Calowen cut him off with a firm slam of her armored hand against his helmed face, “Do you want the Scourge to win?  For all we know they’re brewing up another batch of plague in there, ready to spill it out across the entire Ghostlands.  This is suspicious behavior and we don’t have time to wait until we report back and send out another team, nor do we have time to waste trying to pry your head from your arse because you have nothing to come back to base for – except your hand!”

Waeryn and Jolsin immediately drew their swords. Vrykerion chuckled, “Impulsive as ever I see.”

“Oh shush. You know you like it,” Calowen smiled, “Now let’s see about that smoke.”

The journey into the necropolis was similarly easy and just as worrisome.  The fact that so few undead were in the fortress, especially high ranking ones, just fueled Vrykerion’s fears about the smoke.  They cautiously made their way into the depths of the building though, making sure to check everything and everywhere for possible traps or potential ambushes.  One that that grew more obvious as they traveled deeper was that ever present smell of rotting meat was getting stronger.