In this installment I'd like to share with you a dream I had:
I dreamed I was a freep -an elf hunter no less. My beautiful horns were gone, there were no udders in sight and I had horrid pointy ears! You can imagine my distress, I'm sure.
Trying to get past this awful realisation I looked about me and concluded I was standing in Glan Vraig. There were smelly dwarfs, men, hobbitses and, worst of all elves, running all around me. I quickly began to realise this dream was more of a nightmare. I began to fear that they'd see through the thin elven veneer that this dream had pasted over me and see me for the slime loving, stick wielding Goatz that I am. I decided I should try to converse with these strange beings in a hope to fit in.
[OOC] Nilouthir: Hola Freepios
What kind of bizarre people don't greet a fellow after being offered a greeting? I thought to myself.
I persevered and finally managed to get some folk to talk to me. It was hard as they only like to communicate small amounts of information at any one time and there was no mirth or frivolity in these dealings at all - far too serious if you ask me! But I did manage to learn some things. I heard tale of a certain V named guardian who is, apparently, prone to connection problems and crashes and not particularly predilected to combat logging. This may well be useful information, I thought. I heard tale of the stealing of an old Defiler's name (whoever made a new defiler called Naughtybutnice after Deni transfered - rename or delete it now! ) and I met a captain called Aracolh who it was revealed to me is a "miserable barsteward" and completely without happiness in life. A condition that these folk assured me was caused by his being Scottish.
The revelation of this last piece of information heralded an end to all conversation. The OOC channel went dead and there was no further communication between peoples. This I felt was very sad. It made me homesick for my own land - where Woblah's sexual orientation is emoted regularly. Where Afro is ridiculed for being a "Noob" and where we all have tea parties atop cookie rock with a nice pint of Goatz Milk and chat sh*t.
I woke up behind Dar Gazag - cold, covered in slime and with a banging headache. "Must stay away from Ohmatron's homebrew in the future" I thought, but I was left with a distinct sadness in my heart. I knew now that there was no joy in the hearts of my enemies and that with no joy they would continue to see their ranks as a grind to be completed on GV steps or in zergballs hunting solos. They could not revel in the thrill of combat and enjoy it even if they lost as I have done and continue to do. They could not know the fun of watching Odo try to kite while his 12 man hits the lone defiler charging him and trying to hit him as much as possible before succumbing to immeasurable guardian dots.
I find myself wandering the moors aimlessly wondering what to do. In a probably vein attempt to right the world, and in serious danger of angering the Lord Sauron, I offer up a prayer to the enemies god Illuvatar:
"Please make the freeps happy again. Bring joy back to their OOC channel for the good of all"
The words fade into the sky as I head towards Hoarhollow to find breakfast. Maybe they were heard? Who knows?
The many and varied adventures of Goatz will continue......