Sunday, September 12. 2010
Hard boss is hard — and the Blood Princes are pretty messy to boot. After much effort and many wipes over the course of two hours, we finally downed the Council tonight — and their Queen shortly after. With another wing down, we're now officially 8/12 on heroic and can begin focusing wholeheartedly on working our way towards that dreaded Sindragosa...
Thursday, June 10. 2010
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,—
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn,--mud from a muddy spring,—
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,—
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,—
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,—
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless--a book sealed;
A Senate,--Time's worst statute unrepealed,—
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestous day.
—Percy Shelley
Wednesday, February 17. 2010
Now that both the server and world first Lich King kills are news come and gone, and even The Hungering Cold have got him on 10-man, I think this is as good a time as any to unveil our new guild motto, as displayed in the banner above. It's undergone some revisions over the course of our raiding career, and the graphic design department has edited it accordingly, but I don't think anyone will notice, do you? *Cough*. Yeah. But no, seriously. We'll get him, we swear. Maybe.
Tuesday, February 16. 2010
I've heard World of Warcraft guilds likened to restaraunts — in both cases, many startups don't last the first few months, while many more fold in the first year. Of course that doesn't mean that if you last at least that long you can sit back and coast, but a year is a long time, especially in the land of the inter-tubes and cat-pixels. More importantly, it's been a year of growing, honing, and progressing, and we're still going stronger than ever before.
This isn't the same guild that first dipped its toes in Naxxramas 10-mans all those months ago, and we should be proud of that. We're all better players, way better geared, and most of all are having way more fun. So to everyone from the most recent recruits to those of you who took a gamble and put your names down when there wasn't much to look at &mdash thanks, and happy birthday to us!
Monday, December 21. 2009
From our series of guild lore, the conclusion to the tale of Zalmoxis the warlock and Magliol the traveller... . You can read parts one and two here.
Part III: Been in the Storm
They were swept back into the Nether and subsumed by it. This time it was quite a while before they found their footing. The air was familiar, the smell … the marshes. Zangarmarsh.
‘Wha— why are we here?’ Zalmoxis felt a trepidation he could not begin to explain.
‘That I am not sure of.’ They set out into the mucky undergrowth. The sounds … it was so loud back then, so many birds and animals. After a few minutes of mucking through the undergrowth they found what they were hunting: a fish farm in a shallow pool under the cover of the huge mushrooms. It was on fire.
Continue reading "The Ruins, Part 3"
Saturday, December 19. 2009
Part of our ongoing series of guild lore. A continuation of the last installment.
Part II: Down by the Riverside
Magliol quickly became the best sailor among them. For a time, he was content. They ran trading routes all over their far corner of the world. Sometimes he thought of home, but often he did not let himself. He even let himself forget the war he had been training to fight in, and the one before that that had taken his brothers and sisters, even his parents. Those were his earliest memories. The Horde, that damnable thing. One night he vowed never to return to that life, to kill any sign of it whenever and wherever he found it. His people had succumbed to the demons, so let the demons have them. He had a better life now.
Sometimes news from faraway lands drifted into the little tavern on the beach that he had bought. He would be tending bar for the Pandarens, or whoever happened to wander in, late into the evening, and a traveller would start to tell stories. Many were unbelievable, so he paid them no heed, until one night a strange-looking fellow began talking loudly of the wars in the far East.
Continue reading "The Ruins, Part 2"
Thursday, December 17. 2009
As things slow down a bit around here for the holidays, here's more from the ongoing series of guild lore. In this episode, some time before the Crusade and it's allies stormed the Citadel at Icecrown, the priest Thoradiel calls upon Zalmoxis to take up a different kind of quest...
Prologue: Over Sea
In the high, red desert there was only the sound of the wind. Around the old stone monolith the camp was empty, save for the hot, dry breeze that kicked up dust around the abandoned tents and artillery pieces. Perhaps, if you listened very closely, you could have heard the thudding of the paws of a battle worg smacking against the soft clay dirt, or the low, heavy breathing of the rider, wrapped in a long, dark cloak despite the heat. And, had you stood on the hills over the camp, seen him come on his mount swiftly through the cut, up the road from the swamp to the north, heading straight for the great gateway of the stone opening. If you had been paying particular attention, you might even have seen a look of hesitation — fear, even? — pass across his tough, scarred orcish visage before he disappeared into the glowing magic portal. But you did not. No one did.
Continue reading "The Ruins, Part 1"
Sunday, December 13. 2009
It was our second night of Icecrown Citadel normal tonight, facing off once again with Saurfang the Younger, and after a couple of hours of fine-tuning our technique we managed to put the li'l rascal to rest. It did take us a few tries, we'll admit; we certainly didn't make it any easier on ourselves by not bringing a shaman along — but when we finally got it, we got the achievement, too. How's that for not having bloodlust? Screenshots below.
Friday, December 11. 2009
It's the second night of the patch, and already the Luminous Path is making headway — three out of four normal mode bosses down for the count with no major wipefests is certainly something to celebrate. In our first three hours of raiding new content we managed to down Lord Marrowgar, Lady Deathwhisper, and the Alliance Gunship without too much trouble. We even took a crack or two at Little Adama—er, Saurfang the Younger. His demise, alas, will have to wait for our next raid night, but we have no doubt that this thing'll be on farm status long before the next gate opens.
As always, the Screenshots to Prove It:
Wednesday, December 9. 2009
Sunday, December 6. 2009
There's something to be said for a job well done. Despite having progressed past Ulduar many weeks ago, we recently found ourselves back there to finish what we'd started, and introduce ourselves to the likes of Vezax and his pals. Clearing all the way to Yagg-Saron himself last Tuesday, tonight we made a concerted effort to put what was previously theoretical knowledge to the test. After a lot of questionable cloud-dodging and insanity-going, we finally got the bugger, with the screenshot to prove it:
Sunday, October 18. 2009
Will be continuing throughout the week, as I have time. Hope everyone likes the sexy new look.
Tuesday, September 22. 2009
Part of our ongoing series. You can read part one here.
Kekrops trembled, rattling in his chains; whether it was from pain or exhaustion he did not know, but still he did not cry out. It was all he could do to keep from screaming in frustration, but he was silent. They had tortured him; Gorrush had berated him, and shown him the heads of those they had captured along with them. They bore terrible wounds—and Kekrops, who was no stranger to death and injury, could tell they had been made on living bodies. Still, he resisted. He would not give them the pleasure of seeing his despair. Gorrush had brought a cup of demon’s blood into the cellar; it was a sickly green color, the hue of decay. He did not try to force it down Kekrops’ throat. There was no point; the magic required he drink it willingly.
Gorrush leaned in until the stench of his breath nearly choked Kekrops.
“You are nothing. You are a stupid beast, and little runt of one at that that should have been killed at birth. You think your master-slave can lead the Orcs to redemption? You think your Horde can be redeemed? I will tell you what the Horde is. The Horde is a killing machine. The Horde is a tool of destruction. The Horde would not exist except for the gift of the Legion, and without it, the Orcs would be pig-farmers playing servant to arrogant whims of the Draenei invaders still. It was born in the slaughter of innocents, and we drank their blood and it made us strong. Gul’dan gave us a gift, Kekrops, a gift Thrall would see squandered. It is fear that holds you back from accepting your true fate. Fear of what you can become—fear of the strength that is yours by right. Accept it!”
Continue reading "Pilgrim's Progress, Part 2"
Sunday, September 13. 2009
We're working on a new frontpage for the site right now, with the goal to do a minor revamp of the whole thing (except the forums, 'cause they're pretty enough). So if things keep moving around here over the next few days, don't worry -- it's just us trying stuff out.
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