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Furtive Father Winter Unchained

8

This morning I awoke to find this year’s Furtive Father Winter gift sitting in my mailbox. I couldn’t wait to read about what Herculano had been up to but to surprise myself, I decided to wait until after I posted it to read all the juicy details. :P

~~~

Anyone who has spent any time with me knows that I’m a very giving sort of guy. (Editor’s Note: That is not entirely accurate. He always asks for separate checks, and will stick someone else with the extra appetizer that he ordered.)

On my blog I try to offer tips for classes and gold making. In my various guild(s) I often donate gold, mats, and crafted items. Even my Battle Pets are fed a constant diet of battles. (Editor’s Note: Okay maybe we stand corrected.)

So you see, my awesomeness is surpassed only by my modesty. (Editor’s Note: And boom goes the dynamite.)

Pictured here:  Mister Sensitive.

Pictured here: Mister Modest.

As part of the Blog Azeroth’s 2012 Furtive Father Winter event, I was anxious to see who I would be assigned to prepare a gift for. I was pretty stoked when the word came in – Cymre, of Bubbles of Mischief and The Cym Daily fame. Now here was a person who knew how to enjoy themselves in Azeroth – Raider, Transmogger, Pet Battler, and an overall Giver to the Masses. I rubbed my chin, scholar-like, and thought to myself that this was going to be a breeze.

Boy was I wrong.

Like every scholarly man does during the holiday season, I decided to wander blindly through the various stores and hoped the Right Gift would jump off the shelf and smack me square in the face.

Shopping

Not good enough. Not epic enough. This one smells funny… Oh wait, that’s just me.

After a good hour of pacing around the stores, the only thing that had smacked me in the face was disappointment. Also, saleswomen. Apparently Cymre’s awesome holiday gift wasn’t going to voluntarily surrender itself.

Fine. We’d do it the hard way then.

“Maybe she’d appreciate some transmog gear,” I thought to myself, but that idea trailed off in laughter before it even cleared my skull hole. I was the absolute last person who should be getting items for other people to wear. I mean, I have to write myself a note every day as a reminder to put on pants before I leave the cave. I can barely dress myself; there’s no way I should be offering fashion tips to other people.

It can be a real problem sometimes

It can be a real problem sometimes.

Pacing and thinking, thinking and pacing. It was after I watched a squirrel run up a nearby tree that it hit me – LUNCH!

But also pets. YES! BATTLE PETS!

The feel-good moment dissolved when I realized I needed an expert’s help in this field. As much as it pained me, due to our love/hate relationship, I decided to swallow my pride and ask my mechanical battle pet Jeeves for assistance.

It is much more humiliating when a machine rolls its eyes at you.

This went as well as you would expect

Since I couldn’t get any answers there, I went to the one place where you could find pretty much anything in Azeroth. That’s right, the Auction House! I just knew that, with a little searching and a little more luck, I’d be able to find a suitable pet in there somwh -

The moths in my wallet had a heart attack when they saw those prices.

The moths in my wallet had a heart attack when they saw those prices.

I plopped myself down on a bench, defeated. I was at a dead end. No, it couldn’t end like this. I tried to think, tried to put together a strategy, make some kind of list in my head of possible ideas for -

And that’s when the two Hoo-mans who had been chatting nearby decided to whip out their Battle Pets and started to, well, Battle.

I watched them and felt the anger build inside my chest. Every engagement mocked me. Every pet that won or lost, attacked or parried, every one was another stabbing knife to my stomach. I wanted to get Cymre a gift, a Battle Pet, something on her short list of pets that she didn’t have, and these two pale skinned sacks of soggy meat were throwing my failure back in my face with their hey what was that?

My rage stopped in mid-boil. Did… did that Hoo-man have a Landros’s Lil’ XT Battle Pet? As in the Landros’s Lil’ XT Battle Pet that Cymre didn’t have yet and would make an awesome gift?

Smashing trains and bashing brains

Smashing trains and bashing brains

Oookay, time to be smooth. Calm. Use that Death Knight charm. I waited until the battle was over before I approached. A respectable thing to do. “Excuse me good sir, I couldn’t help but notice that you have in your possession a Landros’s Lil’ XT Battle Pet.”

The Hoo-man started at me blankly. Typical rude Hoo-man behaviour. I was somehow able to let it pass. Must be the Holiday Spirit. “My good man, I would like to purchase that Battle Pet from you.”

I put on my best negotiating face

I put on my best negotiating face. Jeeves could not bear to watch.

The Hoo-man’s silly moustache twitched. He blinked twice. “I’ll give you ten gold for it,” I offered.

My bid was met with a shrug. “So, it’s to be extortion is it? Fine. One Hundred Gold!”

The Hoo-man gave me some kind of lop-sided smile and shook his head, as if he couldn’t understand what I was saying. But I knew. Oh I knew. Everyone understands the universal language of money-speak. Not only was he now insulting me, but he was keeping me from delivering Holiday Cheer.

That. Would. Not. Do.

I decided to change tactics and spoke to him in another international language – Hooman-Smashing.

Luckily I speak fluent Violence

Luckily I speak fluent Violence.

Being the responsible gift-giver, I gave the Landros’s Lil’ XT a thorough cleaning before I sent it. Fun fact: you can get most stains out of a chassis with a high grain sandpaper and a little elbow grease.

Happy Holidays to one and all!

Happy Holidays to one and all!

~~~

HOLY CRAP! A TCG pet. Thank You So Much Herc. I absolutely love it!

No guesses for what I’m naming him… :D

Herculano XT

Herculano XT

If you’d like to see my post for Effraeti, head on over to Awaiting the Muse.

merrylockmas

Here We Come a Warlocking

6

Hot off the… email program. Look what I received in my inbox tonight, just in time for Christmas Eve – it’s my special Secret Santa guest post. You know, if I didn’t enjoy my Priest this much I might be tempted to play my Warlock again. Thanks so much to Poneria for such an awesome post.

By the way, if you’re interested in reading what I wrote for Mia over at Chronicles of Mia, be warned, it’s not a very Christmasy post since she said she doesn’t celebrate this time of year.

Anyway, back over to Pon.

Enjoy!
_________________________________________________________________________

Hello, this is Poneria from Fel Concentration, providing a bit of Winter Cheer to Cymre.  Have a demonic scene of pure fiction (and silly MS Paint Adventures) to reenact for yourself, if you ever have demons over for caroling.

You hear streams of music coming from nearby.  Horribly not in tune, garbles of words, but it’s got some kind of rhythm and tune to it.  It’s almost familiar.

“…as they shouted out with glee–”

“*whipcrack* Oooh!”

“…Rudolph the red-nosed dreadsteed…”

“DREADSTEED!”

“You’ll go down in hisssssssstorrrrrrry!”

“Hopefully not like Mannoroth.  That would suck.”

You peek outside the window.  You gasp!  It’s a horde of demons!  Eeep!  And they’re heading this way!  You rush to your door to bolt the locks when you hear a knocking.  It’s a soft knock, like hitting it with a burnt log.  Your door smolders fel-green for a moment, and then un-glows back to wood.

Your hear a muffled “hello?”

You open the door.

“Sorry about the smouldering,” the Infernal says.  He shrugs and looks down at the ground, almost ashamed of almost burning a hole in your door.  Clearly he just meant to knock.  You should forgive him.

“It’s okay, Infernal,” you say.  “I like the warmth anyway.”  You smile at the Infernal and he brightens a bit.  You notice he’s dressed in a top hat and scarf and three coal-black buttons.  You then notice the other…outfits…each demon is wearing.

“We’ve come to celebrate Winter Veil with you,” the Infernal says.  “It’s an age-old Burning Legion practice called Carol of the Fels.”

You nod like demons singing Christmas carols is normal.  Happens every year.  Of course.

“I sing a spectacularly grand cover of ‘Frosty the Infernal‘ in baritone.”  The Infernal tips his top hat to you.

The succubus is flaunting her Scanty Santa outfit.  She shows some hip, and cracks her whip as she says, “C’mere and I’ll sing to you how I Saw Our Master Kissing Santa Claus.”  She blows you a kiss and “Oooh!”s again.

The imp looks like he’s weighed down by a huge sprig of holly and ivy hung over his neck.  He adjusted one of the points of the holly energetically and says, “OrOrOrOr The HollEEE and the EYE-VEEE, yepyepyepyep.”

“I think she’d like ‘I’m Dreaming of Void Christmas‘ much better.”  The voidwalker looks like he’s been journeying all over the world to get quest rewards for little warlocks — is that a newly dropped Winter Hat? — and he’s carrying a list of Fel or Arcane.  You gulp a little and hope you belong on the Fel side.  You don’t want to know what they do to mages.

The felhunter is happily bouncing along as he runs, and running to and fro, all the while jingling the bells hanging from his horns and antennae.  He can almost do it in a rhythm, until he gets two feet from you, then he refrains unless told to specifically do so.

An Eye of Kilrogg circles your head.  He bounces up and down three times, then again three times, then again three times, but holding it out on the last time to swirl around your head again.

“He sings ‘Let it Glow! Let it Glow! Let it Glow!” the Infernal translated.

The dreadsteed shakes his head, with its glowing red nose, and his applied antlers, and whinnies.

The Doomguard is covered in tree lights and has a mistletoe sprig hanging from the top of his wings.  “I sing ‘O Doomy-guard,” he grunts.

“Why don’t you have a star atop your wings,” you foolishly ask.

“DO I LOOK LIKE A FLUFFBEAST WHO NEEDS A MOON GOD TO DESTROY THE WORLD!” the Doomguard roars.  “WE ARE THE BURNING LEGION!”

“I-I-I’m sorry,” you apologize.  “Do you know the Twelve Days o–

–of LOCKMAS.  OfCourseOfCourseOfCourse We! Know! That! One!” the imp interjects rapidly.

And the demons start up the song.  You’re quite impressed.  They aren’t the best singers Azeroth has to offer (not quite as prolific as Sylvanas’s Banshee Choir), but they do manage some harmony.  You can’t help but join in on the last verse.

Which they all act out.

And you can’t help but join in.

“TWELVE FELGUARDS STORMING!”  Everyone spins in a whirlwind with their arms out as if holding an axe.

“ELEVEN HOWLERS HOWLING!”  Voidwalker does a /roar and everyone else runs away with their hands up in Fear.

“TEN DEMONS LEAPING!”  Doomguard has a solo moment of taking a running jump over the group. He makes a nice dent in your lawn.

“NINE LADIES LASHING!”  Everyone makes an invisible whipcrack, except the succubus actually cracks her whip and sends the other demons nearby flying a few yards.

They grumble a bit but pick themselves up and resume the song.

“EIGHT MAIDS A BURNING!”  All the demons make a long casting animation at you, as if casting Soul Fire at a mob, and let the Invisible Incinerate fly for a second.  They look at you like you’re supposed to do something, so you improv and flinch backwards as if you caught the Incinerate in the chest.

“SEVEN MANY SELF BUFFS TO CAST!”  The demons all make self-buff motions for a while.  Then for some more.  You throw up a ready check, but they’re still buffing.

You almost think they forgot the rest of the song, but then you notice that one of them gave you Unending Breath.  How thoughtful.  You’ll need it on the last note.

“SIX SOULS A SAVING!”  You hear a chime and purple fel lines shimmer around you.  They all gave you a soulstone.  AWWWWWWWWWW :3

“Don’t misuse that,” the voidwalker adds.

Everyone takes a big breath.  You don’t pass out, thanks to your buff.

“FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE HEALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLTHSTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNES…”  They all take a munch of a lock rock.  The Infernal offers you one, and you take it with a “ty :)”.

“FOUR CALLING CLICKS!”  They pause for a moment to start a summoning portal.  You oblige in the group clicking.  A lock box appears and the succubus starts admiring herself in it as if it’s a mirror.

“THREE SOUL SHARDS!”  The voidwalker throws his arms and head back as if roaring, but starts to consume all the shadows nearby.  The other demons do a similar animation.

“Just imagine purple candy cane lines,” the voidwalker intones.  They continue in this zen pose for another few seconds.

He finished with a smile, looking invigorated.

“TWO DARK INTENTS!”  The imp throws his DI on the doomguard, smirking.

“Fluffkins proc it like it’s HoT!  Get it!  HoT!”  The doomguard stomps and grabs at the imp.

The succubus cracks her whip to restore order.  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she says to the doomguard.

Everyone takes a giant breath.  It’s okay, you have nine minutes left on Unending Breath.  You can do it.

“AND A DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMONNNNNNNNNNNNNNN SOOOOOUUUUUUULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!”

You sincerely smile and maybe even giggle.  You /clap for the demons.  They all give a bow and wish you Merry Lockmas.  You wave as they head off to the next house.  You almost close the door when you have an idea.

“Hey, Mr. Infernal?” you yell.

The Infernal turns to face you.

“Just have the felhunter jingle his doorbells next time.”  You give the Infernal a wink and he tips his top hat to you in thanks.

The demons saunter off to the next house.

You grimace a bit.

The next house is mage’s, who’s entertaining some night elf priests and druids.  They even have a big Well of Eggnog.

Oof.

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