Friday, June 12, 2009

You're My Boy, Blue!

With a roar, the gigantic blue dragon descends from the sky to land on the platform where I stand. I look around at the nine other adventurers who draw their weapons in unison, and the sound of sliding steel fills the air. The Paladin runs forward, her face all business as she starts blasting holy energy in the beast's eyes, slapping him with her sword to keep his attention. The rest of us cluster around our healers and open up with spells, incantations, and, in some cases, pure brute force.

My mind begins to wander as I settle into my familiar rotation of spells, cursing and corrupting with hardly a strain on my energy. I gaze at the hard plates on the Paladin's backside. Images rise, unbidden into my head of what might lie beneath those plates. I find myself thinking, what sort of undergarment is she wearing? Odds are, its your standard white linen cloth, but what if maybe it's rune cloth. Or shadowweave. Or maybe something crazy that I've never even heard of before. Wait. Why am I swirling around in the air? Crap, cyclone.

Once I'm deposited unceremoniously back on the ground, I start back in on the dragon. After a bit of beating, he launches himself into the air and summons some minions on flying saucers. What sort of place is this? I mean, flying carpets are one thing, but saucers? This is worse than that time I got sucked into the Emerald Dream.

Ouch! That spell really hurts. I glare at the dragon, hovering out of range of my own spells as he takes pot shots with bolts of arcane energy at us. Luckily, someone saw fit to raise a pink shield in the middle of the platform. I'm not too crazy about the color, but at least it'll keep those spells off of me. As I enter the shield, I notice that it's steadily shrinking. This can't be good. I run to another shield, only to have it shrink away as well. Who the hell is running these shields?! And will you idiots on the saucers please stop following me already.

A couple of rogues commandeer a few vacated saucers and race up to harry the minions that remain above us, raining spells on our shield. After a short battle, they're subdued and the blue dragon begins to pontificate more about how he's so big and bad and blah blah blah. All of a sudden, the ground beneath me falls away. For a moment, panic overtakes me as I plummet to what must most certainly be my death. Or, I suppose I could just keep plummeting for all eternity. That'd suck too. Who knows in a place like this? Where are those damned saucers when you need them?

Something big and red comes up beneath me and I'm momentarily winded as I fall, quite uncomfortably for a male mind you, into the saddle. I struggle for a moment to right myself and then smooth down my robes. It takes me a second to register that I'm now astride a vicious looking dragon of the red brood. This should even things out a bit.

I struggle to pilot the dragon around as the big blue menace hurls yet more spells at us. This time, I have my own dragon to fire back. As we struggle, I start to notice other members of my group plunge to the unseen depths below as their dragons are exhausted. My own dragon seems to be drooping lower and lower. Finally, with one last screech the bottom drops out from below me and I resume the plummeting that I had only recently avoided. As I continue to fall, I see the remaining members of my group fall above me, chasing me down in to the lightless abyss. Darkness overtakes me, and naught is left but the sense of endless falling.

I wake up in a world of black and white, and realize I've departed to the spirit plane. That can't be good. Warily, I make my way back to the portal leading to the hellish nightmare I'd just escaped, intending to reclaim my physical form. I see other members of my group alongside me. We stop at the portal and take a deep breath. Surely there's a furious dragon waiting for us on the other side.

After a moment, we step in. Imagine our amazement to find not the blue dragon, Malygos, but rather Alexstrasza the life-giver. For a moment, we're completely dumbfounded. She quickly explains to us that the smoldering remains of the spells of her dragon brood can be quite powerful, not all that dissimilar to my methods of immolation. Apparently, they both cause fire damage over time, which, when applied liberally, can bring down even a mighty dragon. We cheer at our freakish success and are rewarded with the spoils of battle.

All I can say is: this is yet one more reason that Warlocks rule; we fight like dragons. That, and thank the eredar for damage over time spells.

(Author's note: If you have ever played the Sims, I've come across a rather hilarious blog chronicling the adventures of a homeless father and daughter in the world of the Sims 3. It's rather well written and reads like a sitcom meets a drunken soap opera. Check it out here.)

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