Friday, December 2, 2011

Let The Dragons Have Him

Fulguralis stomped from one end of the room to the other. Reaching the far side, he retraced his path. Once he was back where he started, he muttered a few things, and then began the pattern anew. His wife watched from the safety of the bed.

"Your pacing is wearing me out, hun," Fuubaar said.  "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Fulguralis repeated. "What's wrong?" His voice was getting progressively higher. "I'll tell you what's wrong."

But he didn't.  He degenerated to mumbling and stomping.  Fuubaar could make out the occasional "Dragon Soul."  Generally, it was surrounded by profanity.

Fuubaar sighed and watched patiently.  Give him a moment, and he'd burn himself out.  Warlocks were fiery like that.

"Does this have anything to do with traveling through time?" Fuubaar asked.

Fulguralis turned toward her, eyes ablaze.  "Yes, time travel. Exactly! That's a huge part of the problem. They just send us all over time like some sort of chrono-butler. Recording this, and stopping that. And 'oh no, not this possible apocalypse.' And pay-no-attention-to-this-stream-because-it's-simply-parallel-and-doesn't-reflect-your-reality-at-all. But it does. It does."

"Who are 'they,' sweetheart?"

"The dragons, of course. The felling dragons. They have all the answers. And they're so powerful. But not that powerful. Only powerful enough to show up when all the grunt work is done. Oh, and to go crazy and muck everything up in the first place. But ask them to actually do something and all you get is some cryptic answers about time flows and old gods and all this patronizing crap about-"

"I thought you liked Alexstrasza?"

Fulguralis threw up his hands. "To look at, sure. And she's always been nice. But what has she really done?"

"She did take on Deathwing several times, I believe. And her drakes have bailed you out of several sticky situations."

Fulguralis waved that away. "The red dragonflight isn't who I'm talking about. It's all the rest of them."

"Are you mad about Deathwing again, dear?"

"Don't even get me started. I mean, who is this guy? He just flies in, all pissed off at being held captive for a billion years or whatever, destroying stuff. Why was he there in the first place? Oh yeah, because he got corrupted by power! Why? What's his motivation to throw it all away for some power? That's all these dragons want: power. I consort with demons for power daily, and you don't see me losing my head. Why can't these all-mighty dragons handle it? What the fel good are they if all they ever do is give into their baser urges and get used as pawns and such? Weren't they created to protect this world? If so, that dude messed up big time. Talk about a bunch of flawed engineering... look at the dragons."

"Honey, dragons are people, too," Fuubaar said. "Okay, not really people. Sort of elves, but not really. But what I'm trying to say is that they have wants and desires as well. They're just as vulnerable as we are. And don't forget we created the Lich King."

Fulguralis threw a finger. "But that's exactly my point. I get Arthas. He was trying to protect his people, and lost his way. It makes sense. It was a dumb choice, but at least it makes sense. What's Deathwing's excuse? Who was he looking out for? What were his motivations? I mean they want us to go after this guy, but what do we really know about him?"

Fuubaar shrugged. "So what are you saying?"

"It's a dragon problem. That's what I'm saying. The dragons created this mess, not us. Why don't they clean it up? Why do they have to use us?"

"I don't know what to tell you, hun."

"Don't tell me. Tell that Light of yours." He pointed at the ceiling. "It's his... hers... their... its... doing." He walked over and sat on the bed, holding his head in his hands. "All this old god stuff. These aspects. This time travel. These damned dragons. I can't wrap my head around it. And no one really wants to sit down and take the time to explain it. It's all go go go, and I just want know why. That's all. Is that so much to ask?"

Fuubaar patted him on the leg. "It'll be okay. Why don't you put on your gear so we can go try to find some answers?"

Fulguralis nodded for a moment, and then stood up in an explosion of blankets and limbs. "And that's another thing. Do you know how expensive it is to maintain all this gear? It's cloth. Cloth! And I'm paying out the-"

Fuubaar nodded along with the rant. Looks like it was going to be another one of those weeks...

1 comment:

  1. I didn't want to bitch, so I bitched in character. Figure it's a whole lot more entertaining that way.

    If anyone is wondering, my major complaint is not that the new heroics are not pretty, are not decently fun from a fight perspective... but that the story is utterly incomprehensible and glossed over. Perhaps the highlight for me was trying to read the quest text while Illidan was running away from me. It was as if the game was saying "LOLWUT, WHO READS QUEST TEXT ANYMORE." Yet how else was I supposed to know where I was and what the F was going on. Even Doc Brown was left a bit befuddled by these time-travel shenanigans. "It's the Dragon Soul! Marty, the Dragon Soul! We must go Back... to the Future!"

    But maybe it was just me.

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