It has been a busy week in our small house. Laundry is at the half done mark as it usually is, the kitchen sink is full of dishes, the living room is strewn with toddler toys and Rock Band accessories, and I won’t even poke my head into the doorway of the kids rooms for fear of losing what little sanity I have left. I am tired! It’s been a busy week at work, too, what with special promotions and staff meetings. All I want is a nap! But, no, it’s Saturday, 4:30 server time (1:30 my time), and we’re going to go kill a king's court of tall fat men, then attempt to do damage to a large drooling one eyed loin cloth wearing ….ogre? I log out of my bank toon/twink (who was happily looking at the shiny things for sale and snapping up bargains), and log in my shadow priestess. She buys herself a few unstable elixirs and some mana potions, then takes some enhancing food out of her bank (how fish stays fresh in a bank vault boggles the mind, but it hasn’t killed her yet. Maybe because she is undead?). Someone sends out a summons and whisks her to the Blades Edge Mountains, and Gruul's Lair. Five minutes later, someone whispers in her ear. ”You know, we could really use Shawndra instead. Would you mind?” Of course she minds, but when you can’t find a tank, and you’re an officer, it doesn’t make much difference. I reluctantly sit her outside the instance and log her out. Shawndra logs in, scrounges for food and money to buy a couple of unstable flasks and health potions and accepts a summons to the Lair.
King Maulgar and his court are fractious today, and they are not put in their place until the 3rd try. By this time I am tired of people trying to tell me how to tank a mob that won’t let Shawndra stand still long enough to cast more than a taunting yowl in his general direction. I am cranky,and the next person with "helpful" advice gets critically hit with a wall of text gibberish. With Delgada, if I nod for a second in between mind flay and mind blast, it makes no large difference. It might even help, as she seems to be climbing quickly up the aggro charts these days. But having to pay attention for the whole fight….. I yawn as I hit the taunt button again, attempt to throw out a devastating armor sundering blow with her sword, only to find Shawndra running away in fear, right into Krosh Firebrand’s blast wave. She comes back to her senses, intervenes to take a blow from the warlock, and taunts him again before he casts death coil on her, sending her off again to the other side of the room in fear. I take a swig of my diet soda (caffeinated, to keep me from napping), recover, and hit the intervene button again.
King Maulgar and his court, having been soundly spanked by our raid group, give up one measly epic pair of hunter shoulders. I keep hoping for tanking shoulders, as it is the only non-epic piece of tanking gear Shawndra still uses, but at least this time she didn’t lose a roll to a tree. We move on, kill a few of Gruul’s minions, and sit down to refresh our flagging energies (and to allow our puppeteers to make use of the facilities and get refills on their snacks). Our fearless leader (well, maybe not completely fearless, he is in stealth) checks to see that we are ready, and sends the tanks in. Shawndra is not main tank, thankfully, even though I dare say she could have managed the fight nicely. She’s off tanking, trying to be second on the aggro table. This is very hard when Gruul is not hitting her and making her angry. Rage is in short supply. She yells an encouraging and health enhancing yell, and stands under the cave in. That should make her good and mad! She pops a nightmare seed, and hacks at Gruul’s ankle.
Well, Gruul mashed us soundly into the ground the first time. The second time, I was determined it would be the last. It wasn’t. I found myself running back again, looking at Shawndra’s dangerously low armor rating. One more was all she had left in her. I imagine her armor would have been severely dented, blood spattered, the ornamentation broken off, jagged cuts in spots like those a cheap can opener makes. By this time, my yawning was causing my eyes to water. She sat down in the doorway, ate a bit of crawfish, drank a kool-aid colored flask, and danced as she waited for the priests and paladins to bless her with their enhancing spells. “Everyone ready? Good. Tanks, go.” Shawndra walked out to the center, slammed her shield into Gruul’s kneecap, and started hacking at his ankle again. She switched ankles, slammed her shield into his other knee, yelled out how ugly and weak he was, and continued hacking at his ankle. She then went berserk, hacking more quickly at his calf, yelling encouragement to her teammates. The fight was almost over. The main tank went down, and Shawndra slammed her shield into his knee again, challenging him to put her down. The roof started caving in again, and Shawndra moved out of it, now fully angered and needing every bit of health she had left in her. She blocked, she parried, she yelled, she sundered, she struck at him fiercely. Then, a silly mage zapped him with an ice bolt, and the fight was over. Gruul was dead, and the raid rejoiced. He had been holding onto two pairs of pants and a headpiece. Shawndra somehow won the roll on the pants, only to find herself sitting in front of the equipment vendor later, feeling guilty. Her tanking pants were better than the tier 4 she was looking at, and her fury pants, well, she didn’t like losing all that hit rating. So I logged her out there to think about it.
I turned in my chair, and beheld my little house, overflowing with children. During the raid my niece had arrived, and my kids were having a jam session in the living room. The toddler was in bed “napping”. My husband had grabbed his latest magazine and locked himself in the bathroom. Through the screen door I saw a couple of kids running around the front yard. The hallway was clean, the kitchen had been tidied, and I could hear a load of laundry rinsing while the dryer tumbled. All seemed well with the world, so I got up, aimed for my chair, and looked at the clock. It was 4:30. I sighed, stifled another yawn, and went into the kitchen to whip up dinner instead.
Poor Delgada, I left her sitting in front of Gruul’s lair, under the hostile glare of very large and powerful ogres. Oh well, she will have to fend for herself. I NEED A NAP!