onsdag den 14. august 2019

A Grumpy WoW Player

I needed a break, and as love doing almost all kinds of Quests and stuff in World of Warcraft, I logged in on my poor suffering main, Bredil. But it was a short lived pleasure, as I just hate being thwarted in my attempts to have fun.
I'll show you just what I mean.

1st photo:
Here I am, once again back in the test version of WoW Classic.
I had reached level 15 (max. for this test). I had crafted, fought for, bought or quested for the best armor and weaponry you could have.
I had not done much cooking, the Savory Deviate Delight was given to me by a nice player. Thank you!
Now I wanted to see, how tough I really was.
The colour of the Quest's name in the log, tell me how hard they are to complete. This one is red. That means either group up or prepare to die - a lot.
I called my pet, Scorpy, and together we were just able to handle two of those bad ass Bristlebacks at the same time. My chance of gathering 60 Quillboar Tusks before the servers closed for good were non-existent. But in 12 days plus some more for leveling this far again, I'll do it!

2nd photo:
Back in Battle for Azeroth, my main, Bredil, has been fooling around. He was beset by this expansion's Quillboars, Briarbacks, and got himself a bunch of Quills. The info-text tells him that Hobbs might be interested. Bredil went in search of Hobbs.
But as he finally found the Quillboar enthusiast, he was in for a nasty surprise. Hobbs wanted nothing to do with him or his quills.
Arrows point from the Quills' flavour text, to Hobbs, to the empty slots (nothing to sell).
A search at the helping hand site - Wowhead - told me why.
The last, topmost arrow points to the explanation for Bredil's misery. He's not yet level 120!

The key words here are: getting honored with Storm's Wake - which of course you cannot do until you reach level 120 and can do world Quests.
I exited the game.

Now only 295 hours left.

The Words for Words for Wednesday - no Story

In August the words for Wednesday are given to us by River at Drifting through Life
It's not that the words are not inspiring. I just seem to suffer from some sort of writers' block. The words and photos to go with them are good, and I don't think that anybody should be deterred from seeing them because of my shortcomings, so here goes: 

This weeks words are a couple of lines from books she has read:

1. "then I was going to bed, where I planned to stay until Christmas"
2. "I'm always careful," I said calmly, stepping straight into a puddle.
      and this photo from her sister-in-law when she was in Europe several years ago

A week ago she gave us these enticing words:

1. derision
2. mendacious
3. plethora
4. manuscripts
5. unfamiliar
6. gently

1. vaguely
2. expression
3. ornamental
4. peppermint
5. spinning
6. narrowed

     and yet another photo.

I have to get writing again!

tirsdag den 13. august 2019

Ventetid -- Waiting

320 timer endnu!                                                                                                        320 hours more!

mandag den 12. august 2019

Poetry Monday :: A Childhood Hero

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey have been keeping the chair warm for Diane of On the Alberta/Montana Border  who has now returned in splendour. Her first theme is A Childhood Hero.
I did not have one childhood hero, but a pair.  
The verse is not good, bit it is what I was able to put together. Tuesday was library day in my childhood.

My childhood heroes lived inside a book
They were brave, they were fearless, they had what it took.
They climbed up a mountain so terribly tall
and then wrote a book on their brush with the wall.
I read of their merits, and all through the night
I dreamed of oxygen bottles, snow blindness, and fright.
My mother who came in to hear what I said
Heard me talking of 3000 feet and aid
She forbade me to read,
but I never agreed.
So I secretly read
of the dangers they met.
Every Tuesday I sought out a new book
About Hilary and Tenzing and the route that they took.

torsdag den 8. august 2019

Words for Wednesday - Easter Holiday 6

And once more I'm playing catch up. Now using only a few of  WiseWebWoman's prompts for July 31st, I'm continuing my story of the Easter Fire at Unicorn farm.




And the Irish fiddler Frankie Gavin playing "Rakish Paddy"

Though I love Irish music -- I even played a fiddle in my youth -- I can't seem to place it in the story. Maybe later.


The only real problem arose, as Knud and David found out that they were born on the same day and none of them wanted to jump first. In the end David solved the problem by unceremoniously giving Knud a push in the back, forcing him in the direction of the fire. Knud was, like Susan of non magical origin, but he had his wand ready and with a swish and the appropriate words -- diligently studied by them all in the preceding hours -- no mishap came to pass.

Tage and Lis kept to the strict chronological order of jumping; this meant that Tage as the firstborn of the twins were first, they had done it for several years at home, and Susan envied them their steady grasp on the wand and their even voice as they pronounced the Icelandic syllables with ease.
Hilde, the squat, Norwegian know-all with mouse coloured lank hair and slightly bulging eyes of course had to show off. She went towards the fire with a swagger, displaying her ample front and backside to the spectators. Martine had to prompt her in the use of the words, making the heat of the fire a soft, tickling sensation instead of the terrible heat.
Then gentle Monica, only a few days her junior, and as different as could be, stepped daintily through the flames. She turned her head and smiled reassuringly at Susan, just before she was hidden behind the curtain of flames.
Susan was apprehensive. Even after so many wizards had walked through the fire without ill effects, she wondered if the spell would work, if she would forget to concentrate on it, if she would get far enough on the other side of the fire before her powers ran out, in short anything that could go wrong crossed Susan's brain. But she had placed herself in the line, ready to jump through the Easter Fire; now she had to go through with it. She drew her wand, walked as close as she was able to, she felt the heat on her skin, especially the nose and cheeks, the sound of the fire was loud in her ears. She stood still, concentrating. Then she passed her wand in front of her in the patterns they had practiced all day and softly spoke the words to go with the gestures. Suddenly the almost singeing heat from the roaring fire sunk to a pleasant level, and she walked steadily into the flames. The roaring and crackling sounds of the fire battered against her ears, the updraft from the flames almost lifted her skirt, but she walked on, through a seemingly endless tunnel made of fire. Then the curtain of flames became thinner, she got a glimpse of the line of trees black against the horizon, and she was through. Susan remembered to count ten steps before cancelling the spell. Breathing a sigh of relief she sunk down on one of the benches. She felt empty, happy, glad it was done, ready to do it again.
Veronika came through as well, looking as pale as Susan had felt and flopped down on the bench next to her. Sarah too looked strained as she sat down. She too walked the Fire for the first time.
Then came a slew of Icelandic and Swedish wizards' children, among those Kirstin and Kalle, then Olav and Björn, two Swedes also walking for the first time. They looked incredibly happy upon getting out. "I did it! I did it!" Björn shouted, before collapsing on the bench next to Veronika. Olav gave him a hug, "Me too!" he said in an awed voice.

After another bevel of Swedes and Norwegians, Nata, a Finnish girl from the yellow team, was the last of the 12 years old to walk through. After her the stream slowed down as the professors had to control the permissions. The first one through came as a big surprise for the girls siting on the bench. It was Fiona, Veronika's sister with the broken leg and arm. She obviously had been granted permission from her parents, and now she was carried through the Fire by gentle Taavi, the male twin-professor from the yellow team. Fiona was shaking as Taavi gently put her down on the bench between Susan and Fiona. "I could do it, she said triumphantly. "My spell held strong and true all the way through the Fire! I did it myself, and Taavi did not hurry or help me." Susan smiled at her. Fiona said: "You are absolutely hopeless!" and gave her a big hug.
Heidi came through the fire and sat on the end of the bench. "Fiona, that was great!" she said. "Yes it was!" Susan and Fiona said simultaneously. They all began laughing.
Rosa came through the fire, looking solemn. They moved closer together on the bench to make room for her as well. Anna and Marja, the youngest of the Finnish birch-sisters, came through and sat down on the ground in front of them. Then one last Finnish girl in yellow, whose name Susan had forgotten, came through. And then they all looked at the fire, now beginning to die down just a little. And yes, My came walking out of the fire; with a determined look on her small, pale face she counted ten steps before she crumbled in a quivering heap. Susan, Rosa and Veronika jumped up, and picked her off the ground. She was crying. "It's OK. I'm just so, so happy. I made it, I really did!" And the she stood, hugging her want-to-be helpers, and all of the green group came over hugging and laughing and shouting.