Thursday, August 14, 2008

Wimzig's Whimsy: Warsong and Westfall

((So last night, I spent most of my time levelling up Wimzig, while at the time, trying to prepare myself more adequately for the whole RP experience. Beforehand, I spent most of my day at work looking up numerous sites and blogs that have tips on how to roleplay, how to develop your character, and numerous other things. I commuted home with a few goals in my head regarding Wimzig:

1. I should turn off player names and titles and all that jazz. While in-character (IC), Wimzig doesn't actually know anybody's name. Maybe NPCs, since they're always in the same place, and he gets to see them often.

2. Use appropriate RP addons. This was my first time using IRP-Continued, which is a fantastic UI that shows extra RP-related information about a player character that you target. If the character is also using the UI, you can see a small tidbit of background information regarding the character.

3. IC (in character) vs. OOC (out of character). I got a somewhat general idea of when it is appropriate to use either. IC mainly in /say, /yell and /whisper, while OOC is allowed in global channels. If I want to use OOC in /s, /y, or /w, I would have to use double-parentheses to indicate as such, much like the ones I'm using right now, since this is supposed to be a Wimzig-perspective post.

So without further adieu, I'll leave the rest of the post to good ol' Wimmy.))


Gosh, Night Elves can be so peculiar. One minute they're begging you to help them fight the horde, and another, they're raining down arrows of death on three enemies at once.

I woke up yesterday at the Westfall Inn, only realizing that the inn's roof was yet to be completed. Oh, it was raining, too. I was drenched from my balding head all the way down to my muddled boots. Not that it mattered anyways. My clothes are a random assortment of gifts given to me by people that I have met in my journeys from Coldridge.

My pants? Looted a few bandanas from meany defias no-gooders. My Cloak? Retrieved some oats to feed an old woman's horse. My Gloves? They're actually oven mitts. My wardrobe is as jumbled as a goblin's invention. Just a smatter of random parts, assembled with very little thought. At least I haven't experienced any malfunctions...

I checked the mailbox as I exited the Westfall Inn. Received a letter from an anonymous battlegrounds enthusiast. "Thanks for participating in competition" or something like that. The note was attached to a really interesting tabard. I have a theory that maybe it was due to my recent skirmish in Warsong Gulch. During my brief stay in Stormwind, a pair of Silverwing Sentinels approached me and asked if I could offer my services to help them reclaim the gulch (Piece of advice for Night Elves everywhere: trying to talk to a gnome without squatting down to his level to speak is like talking to a deaf person. You folk are just way too tall). They asked some sort of question to me. Naturally, I couldn't hear them, and out of politeness, I simply said 'yes'.

One thing led to another, and I was teleported to Warsong Gulch! I had no idea that I had volunteered to fight in battle! All I knew was that I was the least experienced combatant of the members of my brigade. There were approximately nine other fighters, each of varying races and classes. Doing some quick calculations, the others seemed to have averaged 18.67 seasons of experience. Here I was, only in my thirteenth, and essentially a throwaway member, an easy kill by the opposing horde.

Surely, I didn't want to be an absolute waste of a soldier, so I did the only thing I could do (and do well, of course). Give out water.

This is my destiny! Water is life! I yelled to my comrades, "Have some water! Freshly filtered from the shores of Loch Modan! Guaranteed refreshment!" A Night Elf looked down at me (naturally), and stared quizzically. A hunter. He had a crab with him.

"I would like to take you up on your offer. Some bread would be nice for my friend as well."

He was quite serious, almost daunting. Perhaps almost twice my height, I couldn't say no. My bread skill is not as seasoned or experienced as my water-dispensing abilities, but anything to turn the tide of battle would make me less useless than I thought I would be.

We failed to secure a victory in battle, but that very Hunter turned out to be the most effective killer on our side. I didn't do too poorly, I suppose. I spent most of my time with a Sprit Healer named Althea. We had some interesting conversations, short but many. She promised to promote my hydration business to future participants in the field of battle. That's a victory in my books!

I do believe that the experience was an uplifting one for me. Despite being of little use as a youngling when Gnomeregan fell to those blasted troggs, I now feel stronger and more experienced as a cryomancer. In my journeys thus far, I have become more precise with the elements, and am becoming quicker in casting frostbolts at bad guys. Who knows? Maybe in a few more seasons, I will be strong enough to take on the entire Defias brotherhood by myself!

...Ok, well maybe not myself; I'll probably enlist the services of 4 others to help take them down.

7 comments:

Larísa said...

Dear Wimzig Whimsy:

I just wanted to inform you that the rumor about your adventures in Westfall on strange ways have reached The Pink Pigtail Inn at the Stormrage realm. Larísa, the innkeeper is eagerly waiting to hear more about your doings in the battlegrounds and other upcoming events.

If you ever need a rest and a decent meal (and I promise, the roof here is intact and will stand against the most dreadful storms), you'll stay here for free, as long as you want. Just drop by.

May the gnomish force be with you!

krizzlybear said...

Little known fact about gnomes: Their "last" name is often made up on the spot. Early in life, they take on their parent's last name, but as they age and mature, they invent a last name for themselves, based on their achievements in life. So if you see a gnome with the last name "Fizzleswitch," it's likely that he probably got electrocuted by some on/off mechanism of one of his more famous inventions.

Sonny said...

Hooray Wimzig! Moar moar!!!

Larísa said...

Is that really so? I had no idea. So I reckon Whimsy is the name of Wimzig's parents since he's still so young?

I've got to find out the last name of Larísa. She's kept a secret to me so far.

krizzlybear said...

@Lar: Whimsy is just a regular word, with a similar definition as the word "idea" or "thought." Wimzig's last name is actually Wintersprug, as mentioned in the introductory post.

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