May 5, 2010 – 5:03 pm
That’s right – another Anna to join the fold.
I’m now able to run two WoW accounts (due to some fortuitous and star-aligned happenings), and so it’s possible for me to add in new characters again. I’ve previously been running with 10 characters on Feathermoon – and now I have my eleventh!
Solidly built and capable looking, Annata appears to be in her mid thirties. Her hair is thick and wavy, and while still mostly black, is starting to grey at the temples. Her eyes are deep set and dark brown.
Annata is a rogue (and currently level 16 – woo!) Being a low level rogue is difficult, especially since my most recent leveling endeavors were a prot warrior, a ret paladin, and a feral druid. (I’m used to being a LOT less squishy). Still, stealth is hax, and I’m having a lot of fun sneaking around and stealing stuff completing quests.
From a character perspective, Annata is a master poisoner (and she’s an herbalist accordingly) – so I’ll probably be taking her into the Assassination tree for all of the fun poison talents. Probably. For now, I’m still working on getting my “please don’t see me while sneaking” and “please let my offhand actually hit once in awhile” talents. She’s a Stromgarde citizen (or was) and a low ranking associate of Ravenholdt.
I’ve not yet gotten to do a lot of actual RPing with her, since the Riders have been pretty busy lately, so I’ve been around with Aely a lot more than anyone else. Hopefully I’ll get some time to explore the character – I’d really like for her to meet some of the rest of the crew, as she’s a little more … shall we say … morally fluid. (Which makes her more unusual in my character set, and I’m REALLY looking forward to exploring that aspect of WoW.)
PS: LFG DM
PPS: Calderaro is a medieval Italian surname for Cauldron maker. Annata’s former husband was a blacksmith, and she is a master poisoner. (No, she didn’t kill her husband. She’s from Stromgarde, and he was killed in one of the many invasions there.)
May 4, 2010 – 5:14 am
The part you may have trouble seeing, unless you open the link, is that Annylais is level 70. I did not train Swift Flight Form from the Druid Trainer at level 71. I did the quests (solo, at level 70), and then I killed Anzu this afternoon, with the help of some friends. It rocked.
April 30, 2010 – 1:30 pm
Over at WTT:RP the Friday Fiction post this week is (kind of) about Aely. You should go read it.
From the intro:
((Some time back we had an RP funeral for one of our guildmates who felt that his story had run its course. Jolstraer was an awesome, ass kicking old sod, and every Rider misses him. Fortunately his PLAYER has returned for us to goof around with, but the character is forever gone.
Aely of That Place Over There opted NOT to have a ghost story, as she had a lot going on. What was really interesting and fun was how she was drawn into the story as a comforting presence for those suffering. It got me thinking: WHY was Aely spared when the rest of the guild was not. The answer, I decided, was the lingering spirit of Jolstraer, with whom Aely was very close. This story is what happened to Maggie Maunt’s ghost when he went toe to toe with our dearly departed.))
Yva is right – my Real Life Crap was just too much to want to add a big participating (and possibly mentally unsettling) RP story on top of everything else. But I was still able to be around for RP, especially towards the end of the story, and Aely played a pretty substantial role with a couple of the Riders as they dealt with their various hauntings. I’d asked myself a few times how Aely managed not to have a ghost, and when Yva presented the solution, I have to admit that I actually went “EEEE!” in real life. (I do that. It’s a weakness.)
There’s another side to this, however, that makes this story particularly cool to me. Having to say “I can’t play with this right now, I have too much going on”… sucks. It sucks A LOT. Especially when you WANT to play along, but mentally you know you can’t devote the time to it. That Yva (and the other story movers and shakers) would throw me a cookie at the end and take THEIR time to bring my character into the story peripherally, once things cleared up and I /could/ play again, means approximately TONS. (In a way, it’s like “awwwww, they really DO like me!” only without the simpering stupidity, I hope.)
I love the story that Yva’s written and highly recommend you go give it a read. And though (for now) Aely doesn’t know, I think at some point in the future, she’ll learn about it – either in a dream or some other way that I’ve not yet thought up.
Many <3’s and happy Friday to you all!
Comments Off on Failing Florists
April 29, 2010 – 10:46 am
It was late. Very late. The Stormwind tower bells had stopped ringing so they didn’t wake people up, sort of late. Still, in the second floor rooms on the courtyard of Stormwind University, two lamps were lit. A student, out after curfew and expecting only the light of the full moon to navigate, ducked past the window unnoticed, initial illicit thoughts brushed aside to see the professor sitting, alone, at his desk.
Elsewhere in the apartment, Aely sat on the floor, surrounded by various pamphlets, brochures, colorful handwritten notices, and advertisements, all of them covered with flowers. She sighed.
Arrens voice floated out from the other room. “Is it really so vexing, love?”
“No. I ken wha’ we want. Jus’… they all look th’ bloody SAME. How th’ Light do folk actually PICK anythin’?”
His chair scraped lightly against the floor.
“Dinna ye innerupt whate’er yir readin’ jus’ t’… ”
“I finished that one, and if I don’t stand up for a few minutes, I will fall asleep and wake up having drooled on one of my student’s papers. Show me this confusing pile?”
Aely gestured at the sprawl of colorful paper on the floor around her, each promising fresher flowers than the last – some even promising out of season flowers, shipped in from the other side of the globe or procured through some form of herbalist’s magic. Arrens knelt down, rifling through them for a moment. An impish grin slowly crept across his face.
“You know, there’s an old student’s theory that when their professors get behind on grading, they use a very efficient gravitational method to determine who gets A’s.”
Aely looked at him quizzically. “Yeh?”
“Mhm. You see, some students – particularly those who fail – have conjured up the idea that when faced with insurmountable piles of papers, a professor simply takes them to the stairway and tosses them down. Any paper that reaches the bottom gets an A, and the papers closest to the top are graded as failing.”
“Tha’s bollocks. Ye work long hours, ‘specially ay th’ end term.”
“Its utterly false, yes. But perhaps we might use that particular brand of logic in our favor in this case?” He gestured at the haphazard mess of flower advertisements.
“I’ll na tell th’ cleaning staff if ye dinna.”
“Not a word.”
Aely hastily bundled everything up into a loose pile. “Stairs outside?”
And so, at nearly two in the morning, the headmaster and his fiancee stood on the courtyard stairs of the University barely containing their giggles. With a flourish, Aely launched the entire pile of papers, letting them fall in a colorful snowstorm of pink and lavender and pale yellow. After several seconds, they settled randomly on various stairs, a few papers escaping the confines of the steps and landing in nearby bushes. Aely shuffled down the stairs, gathering up the fallen papers, to see what could be found at the bottom.
Only one advertisement had actually made it all the way to the bottom – a very simple brochure for a florist and supplier from Southshore, whose advertisement featured purple and white Stratholme lilies.