As this storyline is now concluded, I would ask that any requests made as a part of it be declared null and void, and that a lamp not be unduly targetted. It didn't start as a storyline. There was some legitimate house looting and PKing in there, but the bloke is good people, and we were both having a great deal of fun with the whole thing by the end. More fun than I've had in game for a while, come to think of it. __________________________________________ The other day, I met what appeared to be a well-spoken if dodgy teenager, bearing the name a lamp. He seemed a surprisingly genteel sort for his adolescent years, with a bit of flair, a witty sense of humour, and a desire to aid the people of the realm. Yet a lamp had a problem. A mighty Azure Dragon had spawned in the midst of the blade spirits he was hiding behind, and he was, as yet, too young and too foolish to know how to handle such dire matters. He frantically used what little magic talent he had learned and manifested himself as an avatar named EnviousAnema, that he might chat in the world of the Avatar in a desperate search for someone to heed and to aid him. Long did I ponder, but I feared that, perhaps, this poor new bloke would find himself on the sharp end of a kryss or the knuckles of a mage. Of course calling out a major spawn in IRC is almost always a good idea -- after all, what could possibly go wrong? -- but I did fear, in this case, the infinitesimally minuscule chance that, perhaps, someone might come rendering fire and the sword where there should have been aid. I recalled into the dread dungeon Destard and found him. The poor a lamp was running about in circles, begging for help -- his face covered in tears and the front of his trousers covered in what I chose to believe were more tears. I tried to calm him. I tried to reason with him. Ultimately, however, it was the Azure Dragon that eventually shocked him back to a semblance of his senses. As soon as he heard its footsteps in the distance, he ran screaming and wailing for the cave entrance. Once outside, he begged me to teach him how to slay such a beast. He was desperately scared, but even more desperately poor. He needed gold, but he had neither skills nor knowledge to speak of. I calmly explained that it was, in fact, possible for the beast to be slain, and that his rather meager magery would suffice for the method I had devised. I showed him how to summon and to deploy his blade spirits, then flee the cave to summon more, confusing the great beast and causing it to forget it had the ability to dispel. A lamp's eyes lit with the fire of imagined wealth. That should have been my first hint -- a grim foreshadowing of what was to come -- but I was overjoyed at the transformation in this child. A moment before he had reeked only of fear and voided bowels. Now, feeling in his heart the harbinger of victory, he found a spark of courage, and by the end of the fight, he was, quite literally, throwing himself into the battle... behind a wall of my blades, and with only a smidgen or two here and there of intermittent, terrified flight. After the dread beast had been slain, I, of course, thought it wise to allow him to take the gold and gems for himself. Perhaps, I thought, if he saw the riches to be gained, the next time he would cut a braver character in the fight. He timidly approached the shimmering corpse of the terrible serpent. It twitched, and again an awful stench filled the air. But eventually, after many minutes, he was upon the beast. He rifled through its body, and made a rather haphazard job of butchering it, then ran around in circles, the light of lunacy in his eyes, begging for a gate. I, of course, obliged, eager to get this poor fellow out of the dungeon that would surely be his death were he to be left in it a moment longer. I pondered as I watched the pitiable figure a lamp cut as he greedily packed the meager leavings of the Azure dragon into a box, within a box, within a box, at the bank, his eyes, all the while, shifting this way and that in the terrible fear that someone might see where he had stored his gold. Never had I seen such a man, so desperately in need of help and so willing to receive it. He clearly needed guidance, and yet his timidly twitchy disposition meant that providing this guidance would be a challenge. Yet I could not abandon him. And neither could the brothers and sisters of the House of Oor'tael. I consulted the brethren through the aether, and it was agreed: We must aid this poor youth! When we brought a lamp into the House a transformation came over him. It was almost as if he had never known friends before in his life. And once in the company of others, he seemed to gain a tiny sliver of courage and conviction, of pride and of purpose. We thought he would make a good mate, we wished him well, and we welcomed him, with open arms, into the ancient House of Oor'tael. Truly did we pity him, but even more truly were we resolved that, once we had shown him our love and support, he would no longer be an object of pity and ridicule! He got on well with the mates that evening, and spent the night enjoying our company and sharing tankards with us, as we taught him new tricks and offered him gold, reagents, weapons, and whatever else he might desire to train himself during this, his second week on the shard. Truly we considered this strange child a sort of son. He confided in us all of his hopes and his dreams, and the members of the House were teary eyed by the end of his desperate pleas for succour and aid during his sojourn in our beloved Britannia. Long did we speak of these matters, and greatly did a lamp desire the knowledge that we had gleaned over the course of our years, both in this paramount of realms, as well as in others. Alas, 'twas even more greatly that he desired the possessions of his brethren in the House... For no sooner had my eyes glazed over, as I left this realm for the aethereal plane of Eye Ar-EL, than a lamp ran frantically, this way and that about the compound, dipping his hands into any and every container he could find. His eyes darting this way and that, fearful lest anyone should see him, he ran about the guildhouse in a desperate hunt for whatever was not nailed down. All told, he had betrayed the only people willing to take a chance on befriending and aiding him for a measly 100k worth of deco and rusty weapons. Those of you who have spoken with me will know that I have a great respect for the great number of skilled thieves on this shard. Their house looting techniques involve a great deal of skill and flair, and even when one is the victim of one, there is usually a fun story to be had. I do, however, take a dim view of this sort of thing. The items themselves are unimportant and easily replaceable; indeed, they have been replaced already. The principle, however, that one doesn't double cross guildmates after swearing the oath is important. And so, Cullinarn the PK was born! I found, unsurprisingly, that a lamp was fairly predictable. He seemed to farm exclusively in the dread dungeon of Destard, in which I had first run across him. A few hours after his crimes, I tracked him down. At first he froze in fear. Then I saw his eyes alight with that same lunatic terror which I had beheld in him when first we met. This time, however, I was there to render justice rather than aid! Once the reality of the situation into which he had placed himself dawned on him, he fled in a state of such fear that I worried, lest he dash himself against the walls of the caverns like a limp doll, preventing me from delivering the aethereal hammer-stroke of reprisal which he so richly deserved. Alas, a lamp was as inept a runner as he was a dragon-hunter. In moments, he was stretched lifeless in the dirt of the dank dungeon. I took his head, and placed it on the milestone in front of the House as a warning to other potential traitors. I have taken the liberty of providing a screenshot. Though in this case I did not provide a gate or resurrect him, I did inform him that I had left all of his things on his dismembered corpse. I would never dry-loot even my worst enemy. Nor would I rez-kill the devil. And yet, I might as well have done the latter, and it would have been better for the poor sod had I never mentioned his goods at all. For I came back around a half hour later on another matter, and I found, much to my chagrin -- but, alas, not to my surprise -- a pile of a lamps where I had first slain him, and his loot still uncollected. The poor child had been coming back again and again, desperately trying to get his things, and had fallen into the gnashing maw of the mob of dread serpents that are the denizens of Destard, and were feasting like carrion birds on the fresh meat of his corpses. This was not it, though. This sort of justice needs to be delivered on a sustained level. Consequently, we have been visiting a lamp to ensure that he is not overcome with grief and isolation now that he is no longer a member of our brotherhood. And in such cases, occasionally one's friends lend a hand. And since our former brother a lamp stole our deco, it seemed only fitting that he should become our deco. I, thus, give you two variations of Traitors in Firelight (A Cullinarn original): To our erstwhile brother a lamp: We shall see you around, mate. Don't be a stranger, for we certainly shan't be. Much enjoyment may you take from our encounters, for we certainly wouldn't want you to be lonely! For the shocking conclusion, see below...
This explains my travel gnome's shady report. He swore to me the total reported gate count to Destard for that day was legitimate but I didn't believe him at first. 17 in under an hour... This all makes sense now.
And the conclusion of the tale is that my transformation is complete! I am now a brutal PK, with the red colour and the counts to prove it! Run from my massive skills in terror! As I sit upon my throne, I gaze out and rest content in the knowledge that, as a ruthless red, I rule all that I survey. Truly I am the best PvPer on this roof! I am willing to mete out OMG1337PWNage 1v1 to anyone I see... in the following screenshot. Incidentally, the reprisals are finished. I wish a lamp well, and am glad that he enjoyed it as much as I did toward the end. Thanks for counting, mate. Never been red before, and it is hard to do under the rather restrictive terms of our Codex, so it was on my bucket list. May you find willing and generous buyers for all of the loot you got from our guildhouse!
I retch at the mention of his pathetic acts of disloyalty. Yet, ruthless revenge trumps bitter betrayal! I salute you, good sir, and the House of Oor'tael.
I think he's a player killer now I saw him recently in Destard. A couple of pics for your viewing pleasure:
I got a taste of blood, Franz. It was delicious and nutritious. I started making puddings with it, and found I liked it better in cakes. Finally, however, I settled on pies. But I needed a supply of bodies. Consequently, I consulted a wench named Tamora about her two rather rapacious sons Chiron and Demetrius... And there they were! In that pie, upon which she so daintily did feed. Eating the flesh which she herself did breed! In all seriousness, though: As this storyline is now concluded, I would ask that any requests made as a part of it be declared null and void, and that a lamp not be unduly targetted. It didn't start as a storyline. There was some legitimate house looting and PKing in there, but the bloke is good people, and we were both having a great deal of fun with the whole thing by the end. More fun than I've had in game for a while, come to think of it.
I was referring to a lamp's newly discovered PKin actions! You've brought him into PKing, a poor little child!
Folks who look for the best in others appear a rarity in this sandbox. I'll play a song or two in the taverns mentioning your deeds. Cheers.
