> Explore the cave, looking for anything useful or interesting

((Our very own Dusk-type thread!  Must participate! ))

> throw baby

____________________________________________
Let me die without fear as I have lived without it.

> Examine inventory

Dum Spiro, Spero

> Examine Quest Log

> Remove Goblin Cell Phone from pack

> Examine speed-dial list

> Dial third number and ask friend what you did last night, since you don't remember anything.

((Rofl, I love you guys. XD))

>Explore the cave, looking for anything useful or interesting

You decide to follow (or abuse?) your nose and investigate the smelly cavern. Bur first things first!

>Throw baby

When one is in uncharted lands, it's paramount to start off on the right foot. You hawkishly scope the land for any sort of baby to throw, but it seems that the good people of Hillsbrad have been tipped off about your penchant for infant-hurtling, and there's not one to be seen for miles. Come to think of it, you've only actually seen babies in Outland. Alone. With swinging meathook things outside. Creepy. You make a mental note to go back to save them at some point (possibly to throw).

>Examine inventory

Among your engineering goods several particular inventions catch your eye. One of these is one that you don't even remember having, let alone creating. It's a box full of the parts necessary to create a portable defense turret and the schematics are inside. It's odd that you have this... particularly as you remember ditching gnomish engineering for the glorious pyre of righteous judgement that is goblin engineering a considerable time ago. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers!

There is also an unhatched egg of some sort incubated in a warm blanket. You don't know why, but you suspect that in five days it might hatch into something.

Your key ring is full of dozens of keys that can unlock virtually any dungeon door in all of Azeroth. Unfortunately, none of them are even remotely useful in this part of the world.

You also have something labled a "Mohawk Grenade" where this came from and what it does is a complete mystery to you. You leave it in your satchel for now. Best not to mess with things you don't know about. Unless the voices tell you to... Wait, who said that?

You aren't entirely sure how you managed to fit it inside the sack, but you still have Archmage Vargoth's Staff after all this time. Perhaps it still works.

Other notable gadgets include an Arclight Spanner, the beacon to summon Jeeves, your Gnomish Army-Knife, a Wormhole Generator, a Robotic Mailbox, a Mote Extractor, a Netherwing Commander's Badge, an Argent Lance (seriously, how are you putting all this in there?), a box of honeymint tea, and a jar full of fowl-smelling (har har) aged yolks. And of course, a Miniature Steam Tonk controller. You also have a noise machine, but rarely find a reason to use it.

You are currently wearing your armor of divine retribution, and your armored and magic-enhancing gearsets are no where to be found. Not that you liked wearing them anyays. Incidentally, most of your weapons are missing too, outside of your 2-handed Axe and a crude sword and shield. Several pieces of gear also appear to have been modified.

There's possibly even more burried away in your satchel, but you feel like you've spent enough time recounting your inventory. You have enough to get going in any case. What remains will likely make its importance known in time, if it's relevant enough to care about.

>Examine Quest Log

Your quest log is almost entirely overflowing with various Northrend daily quests in various states of disrepair. You'd sooner gouge your own eyes out with a bendy straw then go jousting again, but that doesn't stop yourself from taunting yourself with the potential gold rewards.

A new quest is also in your log, under the paladin section. It is titled, "Escape."

There is also that one Naxxramas quest that Hron shared with you a while back that can't be completed now because it only worked for the old Naxxramas.

>Remove Goblin Cell Phone from pack

>Examine speed-dial list

>Dial third number and ask friend what you did last night, since you don't remember anything.

You deftly remove your "Goblin Cell Phone" from your backpack, but realize that without anything to blow up, sans yourself, it's rather useless. You don't feel particularly compelled to self-immolate right now, but you file that option away in the back of your head. You never know when that sort of thing might be handy.

You wish some of your friends, heck... ANYONE was around to answer what the heck is going on, but that doesn't seem to be an option at this point. This is why you can't have nice things. Perhaps you should stop falling into chasms and expecting your divine immunities to get you out every time? Hmmm? Ok, enough self-chastising for now. On to the task at hand!

Feeling relatively comfortable with the order of things, you set off towards the yeti cave. The scent of unwashed yeti assaults your nose immediately--but it's worse than that. It's the smell of unwashed, dead yeti.

You are now standing in the cave entrance and there is a pile of dead yetis blocking your path. The rank furry lumps appear to have been slain recently, and there is bloodied blade stuck into the yeti on the top of the pile. Whoever perpetrated this appears to have left already. On the floor of the cave, near the yeti-kabab is a crumpled up note. The air in the cave seems restless, and a soft cacophany assaults your ears. The noise resonates around the cave and it is difficult to tell where it's coming from. You think you can hear voices within it, but it's hard to be sure. Periodically this soft din is accented by low-rumbling and sharp-cracks of sound.

Inventory:

-Gadget Bag Stash

-Retribution Armor

-2-handed Axe, 1-handed sword, shield

-Keyring

-Mohawk Grenade

-Unhatched Egg

-Archmage Vargoth's Staff

-Argent Lance

-Inexplicable Sentry Gun Kit

- Sustenance! (If you can call tea and rotting egg yolk that).

You are still standing in the cave entrance near the dead yetis while a curious, but distant din echoes around the cave. The yeti fur could prove useful, you muse. You scout as far in as the main cavern and find nothing more than mushrooms, and yeti corpses. As you near the large, main chamber of the cavern the background din is further amplified.

You can vageuely make out the sounds of what you think is battle. Considering how close Southshore is to Tarren Mill, you don't find this particularly surprising. What you do find odd is the frequency of the sharp cracks and low rumbles, which are beginning to sound like heavy siege weaponry. You decide that now would be a good time to evaluate your next course of action. You eye the dead yeti pile thoughtfully.

...What?

>

>Take the Yeti Kebab and read the note!
----
"Do you know what the definition of a hero is? Someone who gets other people killed. You can look it up later."

>Take the Yeti Kebab and read the note!

Against your better judgement you pick up the yeti-encrusted sword and all the pelt lumps that still cling to it and shove it in your satchel. Momentarily you consider pondering the physics involved in achieving this, but you are distracted by the note. You open it up to see what appears to be a shopping list for a coat written up by someone named Bartolo. Apparently the species extermination performed in this cave did not yield an adequate supply of pelts of the quality that Bartolo's fine cloaks demanded.

I mean the pelts are good, but hardly fine! Whoever this note belonged to apparently angrily scribbled out all of Bartolo's instructions. Damn shame. Those are fine cloaks.

You sniff the air and look down at your satchel. You'd best get used to Ou du Yeti.

Inventory Addition:

- Large Clump of Inadequately Fine Yeti Pelts with Sword Sticking Out of Them

- Abused Quest Text

>

> Use Vargoth's Staff

> Discuss the marketing potential of Ou du Yeti with Archmage Vargoth's Image

> leave cave

> go towards southshore

> examine quest "Escape' text while en route

> scout Southshore environs

Dum Spiro, Spero

> Use Vargoth's Staff

> Discuss the marketing potential of Ou du Yeti with Archmage Vargoth's Image

You remove Archmage Vargoth's staff from your satchel with alarming dexterity; it is motion that you are intimatley familiar with. When all others have failed you, Vargoth remains! Perhaps this is only because he is still inexplicably trapped in his tower, but in any case, he has no choice. You shake the stick in the air furiously and chant, "URRR URRR URRRR!"

The latter part wasn't necessary, but it seemed like a fun thing to do. The archmage's visage materializes before you, his hands jammed as far into his ears as humanly possible. "I can hear that you know," he moans.

You propose to him the chic concept of Ou du Yeti. While he believes that there might be a potential for the creation of a blood elf market for those Sin'Dorei that wish to smell more like the other races of the horde (and Forsaken that wish to smell like something that is only dying instead of already decomposed), he believes that it's popularity within the Alliance would be signifcantly less. However, he refuses to help publicize it among the blood elves on account that they murdered his fellow Kirin Tor en masse and trapped him in the tower that he is currently occupying. Or so he says anyways. You suspect he's just a pansy when it comes to investment. Probably in general too. After all, nothing is actually keeping him in that tower any more... You decide to let sleeping wizards lie and shut off the link (but not before waving your arms around and shouting "URRR URRR URRR!" again, much to Vargoth's chagrin).

> leave cave

> go towards southshore

> examine quest "Escape' text while en route

> scout Southshore environs

You leave the cave and set off in the direction of Southshore. The soft cacophony of the cavern is now absorbed by the abundant forest around you. The horizon to the East is glowing an unnatural redish color, perhaps a forest fire? You think that you can occasionally feel a low rumble, but you aren't sure.

While you walk towards Southshore you bring out your quest log and examine the newfound quest, "Escape."

Escape:

Help, you've fallen and you can't get up! You're brave, I'll give you that. But if you believe yourself worthy of life you are sorely mistaken. Still, we'll see if you can beat the last record. If you can, liberty is yours! I'll meet you face to face and ensure it, personally! You may rely on your faith if you wish, though I'm rather skeptical that it will make a difference.

How do you escape? Ah, that's the fun part! You'll have to figure that out on your own. Or perhaps you've already escaped and just forgot to abandon this quest? Hah, that'd be ironic! I suppose I can't make this venture too cryptic though. You'll know you've escaped once you've reached the Cathedral of Light in Stormwind.

By the way, I took the liberty of disabling your hearthstone.

Objectives:

Escape

Save Them! 0/10

Cryptic quest text is annoying. And who the blazes is them, pray tell?

You are nearing Southshore now and it doesn't take a degree in engineering (though you do have one, and love reminding people of the fact, much to their annoyance) to see that something is amiss. For one, the entire town is bunkered down and prepared for total war. The flightmaster's post is under lockdown until conditions clear and there is a fully-armed garisson watching the town's borders.

"All able bodies are to report to the town hall immediately for armament," cries the aptly-titled town cryer. "The Syndicate are attacking!" Two draenei women are scurrying about near the town hall rallying the locals for a march on the keep. They look familiar.

You are now positive that you hear thundering to the North.

To the East is Thoradin's Wall.

To the North is Durnehold Keep.

To the West is the Smelly Yeti Cave.

To the South is a big blue wet thing.

>

> Arm the town crier with something best kept away from open flames, and a mohawk grenade.

> Sail for adventure on the big blue wet thing!

> Get flask

((You can just ignore my suggestions as I'm just being a douche))

____________________________________________
Let me die without fear as I have lived without it.

> Arm the town crier with something best kept away from open flames, and a mohawk grenade.

> Sail for adventure on the big blue wet thing!

You activate a box attached to your belt and it crafts a miniature frost steel grenade on the spot. You hand both this and the Mohawk Grenade to the town crier and advise him that he should probably keep these away from open flame. Hopefully these will turn the tide in whatever conflict tSouthshore is now embroiled in. I mean, it can't hurt, can it? The Draenei eye you curiously as if you're out of place but appear to be preoccupied rallying the locals. You ignore them, as you have bigger things to worry about. Bigger blue wet things, that is!

You are overcome with the spirit of adventure (which is probably how you got into this mess in the first place, but I'll leave that point alone for now) and immediately search for a way to set out on a grand voyage. You spot a rotted rowboat that looks most unseaworthy--best leave that one alone. Fortunately, next to it you spot a row-boat that looks incredibly safe and most seaworthy! But has it been tested on the high seas? Determined to make sure that whomever owns that row boat is the proud owner of a certifiably safe vessel, you hope in, grab the oars, and set sail! Well, you would if it had a sail anyways. Instead you put your (dubiously) beefy arms to use and start rowing out to see like a true nautical champion! You hum a jaunty sea tune to yourself as you start out...

When the course is laid and the anchor weigh'd,

A sailors blood begins racing.

With our hearts unbound and our flag unfurled,

We're underway and off to see the world!

> Get flask

Knowing it's bad luck to set off on a maiden voyage without christening a vessel, you pull out a flask that is conveniently nestled amongst the noble vessel's rigging, take a big swig of something that tastes flamable, and shatter the bottle on prow. You momentarily consider what the ship should be named. You like the ring of the "S.S. Juggernaut" but some other options dance through your head. Anyways, back to your song!

Hey ho, we'll go anywhere the wind is blowing

Hoist the sails and sing,

Sailing for adventure on the deep blue sea!

You rub your eyes and look at the deck. You notice that some rats have appeared to join in the chorus of the song. You wonder what the heck was in the flask and decide that you've had enough singing for the time being. Today has been weird enough without singing rodents. You'd best stop before you start talking to the man who lives on your finger or something equally crazy.

You are now several hundred yards off the coast of Southshore.

To your (far) west lies Kalimdor and the Maelstrom.

To your East the coast continues along Hillsbrad to the Arathi Highlands.

To the South is open ocean that should theoretically meet with the West Coast of Azeroth at some point, near Menethil Harbor.

To the North lies Southshore. A portal appears to have opened in the city square and a couple of figures seem to be emerging from it. From this disance it's hard to tell who or what they are, but they aren't fighting with the locals, so presumably they're friendly. You could turn back now if you wanted, but you'd feel awfully silly after christening your (still unnamed) ship and singing an appropriately jaunty sea tune. The people of Southshore seem to be safe from whatever strife is hitting Hillsbrad anyways. And besides that, adventure awaits!

>

- Name the boat the S.S. Chaos.

- Appoint the largest rat First mate.

- Appoint the smallest rat Cabin boy.

- Search boat for Rum.

- Figure out how to use the Argent Lance as a Mast.

- Ponder what to use as a sail.

- Continue rowing south.

-Lament the lack of women onboard.

> Check sky for impending storms

> Set up sentry gun as deck gun

> Bombard enemy forces on shore

>Name the boat the S.S. Chaos.

>Appoint the largest rat First mate.

>Appoint the smallest rat Cabin boy.

Right then, time to get down to business. The S.S. Chaos may be a vessel, but it's not truly a ship until you have the crew sorted out. The only others on board the craft are the rats, who have fortunately ceased singing. You search out the largest and decide that she would likely be a good medium between you can the lesser rats that shall make up your swabbies and deck hands.

Splintara has joined the Ghost Scions!

The rank of First Mate has been granted to Splintara!

Guild Message of the Day: >throw baby

The smallest of the rats seems unfit for even the most basic chores, so you name him cabin boy. However, his spirit is admirable and you've taken a fancy with him. The two of you grow very close and spend hours pouring over nautical charts and maps. He poops on one of them and you throw him overboard for insubordination. The second-smallest rat is now acting cabin boy, but you've learned your lesson about growing too attached to members of your crew.

>Search boat for Rum.

You search the boat for rum, but there's none to be had! "Why's the rum gone?!" you cry forlornly. Then you remember the flask you broke and curse yourself in language that makes your tiny crew of rodentia blush. It never even occured to them that you could use a flail to do THAT. You do find a jug that should theoretically hold rum, but it's empty.

>Figure out how to use the Argent Lance as a Mast.

As unbelievable as it sounds, your beefy arms do grow tired after a while. A stroke of genius then occurs to you. Your "Argent Lance" is long, and hard. This chunk of solid tournament-grade wood would be ideal for a mast! now if only you had a sail for it. You use some spair bolts from your engineering kit to attach it to the center of your dingy's deck, as best you can.

>Ponder what to use as a sail.

You look around the boat but don't see any canvas. Damn. You look through your satchel again to see if you've missed anything and come across your tabard stash. You've got a lot of these things and haven't worn most of them in ages. You may not be a tailor, but it can't be that difference from engineering, right? You're wearing a gray, cotton shirt too, so perhaps that could be used for... something (perhaps uniforms for your crew). You also have several bundles of frostweave cloth in your medical kit that could potentially be used to craft a sail. Also, there's the Yeti Kabab.

>Continue rowing south.

Undecided about how (or whether you even should) make a sail, you continue to row South for the time being. There will be plenty of time for sail crafting when you're lost at sea, after all. Southshore is slowly shrinking and it looks like the portal has now vanished. You can't tell what's going on over there without anything assisting your vision, but at least nothing looks like it's on fire. It seems the town cryer heeded your advice.

>Lament the lack of women onboard.

Well, you're first mate is a woman, so it's hardly fair to say that. Though there is a distinct lack of humanoid female companionship. Most disheartening.

>Check sky for impending storms

Once when you were bored, you twirled your axe around overhead and created your own Divine Storm, but overall the weather is moderate, if a bit gray (Like your face! Haha, take that old man!)

>Set up sentry gun as deck gun

Can't be caught off-guard. You know what sort of brigands and wastrels roam the seas. You find this the perfect opportunity to set up your sentry gun in lieu of--no, as an UPGRADE from a piddly normal deck gun!

You drop the kit on the deck and beat the pile of parts with your Arclight Spanner for about a minute, until the pile of parts magically tranforms into a finished product. Isn't engineering awesome? The newly-built stalwart guardian scans a 180 degree arc on the prow of your ship, though you could probably rotate it with some work. A fish jumps out of the water ahead of your boat and the turret drills it several times with a it's primary rifle mount. Fish chunks are now raining all over the place and a flock of seagulls descends on the remnants. One of them poops on you. That gull is also thrown overboard for insubordination.

>Bombard enemy forces on shore

There aren't any enemy forces to bombard, as far as you can tell, and shore is well out of yoru sentry gun's range. Just for good measure though, you fire off a volley. That'll show that water to stand between you and land! You make the mighty Xerxes proud by following his example.

Inventory Update:

-Bag o' Tabards

-Empty Rum Jug

-Authentic Pirat Crew

-Seagull-poop Stained Tabard

-Assembled Sentry Gun

You are now sitting well off the coast of Southshore. And a sail-less, makeshift wooden lance-mast is sticking out of the middle of your dingy. It is starting to get dark.

If you turn East here you will approach Stromguarde.

If you continue to the South you will hit the open ocean between Northern and Southern Azeroth.

If you head West you will NOT reach the undying lands (though you will find elves... eventually).

Southshore and Hillsbrad lie to the North.

>

> Search charts for undying lands

> Splintara: pilot ship while captain is distracted

> Sentry Gun: Shoot anything that so much as twitches in firing arc

> Use tabards for sails.

> Try to ramp off a wave to get some sweet air time

____________________________________________
Let me die without fear as I have lived without it.

> Search charts for undying lands

Kalimdor lies where the Undying Lands should be, but Kalimdor is not Valinor, unfortunately. You briefly entertain the thought that perhaps the hidden bridge to Valinor lies in sailing through the Maelstrom, but that's a particuarly silly thought since this isn't Middle Earth. And if you want to get technical, Northrend is probably an "undying land" of sorts... (If you're into zombies instead of elves... or elf zombies). Seems kinda silly to go back there though, since you apparently just fell out of Ulduar through a hole in the world that leads direcrly to Hillsbrad (what the heck is up with that anyways?)

> Splintara: pilot ship while captain is distracted

Splintara blinks at you while you stare at the charts. This ship really needs a helm of some sort, it doesn't feel much like a ship without one.

> Sentry Gun: Shoot anything that so much as twitches in firing arc

Cabin boy squiggles decides to poke his nose over the prow for a closer look at the water and is impassionately gunned down by the sentry turret. You appoint a new cabin boy (who also happens to be one of the 3 remaining rats that aren't first mate). Your ears are ringing.

Your sentry gun has 1,000 rounds of ammunition remaining on its ammo belt.

> Use tabards for sails.

You use some cobalt screws and your gnomish army knife to stitch together your tabards as best you can. You then use a froststeel tube (which refused to sell at the auction house, not that you're bitter about that) as a makeshift yard-arm and hoist the "sails."

> Try to ramp off a wave to get some sweet air time

Your sail catches the southerly winds and you begin to head south (it's a good thing you didn't try to go north, that'd have been hilarious!) A suitable swell comes up and you aim your boat directly at it. A powrful gust strikes at the just the right moment and the S.S. Chaos goes ramping through the air like a champion, before crashing down with a tremendous splash. You think you got at least a good five to ten feet of air, for a good 4 seconds too. Righteous, dude!

Unfortunately, the extra stress on the sails from the gust was more than your rather flimsy sails could bear (despite your "masterful" stitching). The stitching binding the tabards together has come undone and your tabards are now flapping around in the wind like the arms of an inflatable octopus at a used car lot. WACKY WAVING INCREDIBLE TABARD SAILS! At least your mast is still holding up pretty well.

It is now getting even darker and fog is starting to drift in, you can no longer see the shore in any direction. You'd say it's late evening, but the darkness is blacker than the twilight hours out to be. Newly appointed Cabin Boy Squeemish quivers in fear.

You are not entirely certain which direction you are now facing, but assuming the winds are consistent, you are probably drifting in a southerly direction. Something tickles the back of your mind, telling you that darkness and fog is probably a bad omen, but you're too distracted by your garish flailing excuse for a sail to reply to that voice. Another voice is alarmed that you actually have distinctive voices in your head expressing different thoughts. It then occurs to this voice how extremely alarming that is, in itself. This voice commits sepuku to silence itself. The voice fearing the bad omen holds a silent vigil for its fallen commrade and swears bloody vengeance on the tabards flailing in the wind.

You notice that a concentrated part of the darkness behind your noble craft is growing larger (or perhaps closer).

Inventory Update:

-3 Expendable "Cabin Boys/Cabin Boy Candidates"

-1,000 rounds of sentry cannon ammunition

>

> Fashion nautical hat for Splintara

> Fashion nautical hat for Splintara

You aren't much of a tailor, as we've just seen, but you also realize that a first mate's not a first mate without some sort of appropriate headgear. However, you have just the hat to match your skills in mind! You tear off a strip of frostweave and wrap it around her head like a pirate bandana. There, now he head will stay warm in this blasted fog too! Those oprhans back in Stormwind never did anything this nice for her! She smiles at you affectionately. If she were a combat pet you would have gained a level fof loyalty. Unfortunately for you (but fortunately for her) she is a non-combat pet.

Or perhaps you're just imagining this. You haven't been drinking saltwater, have you? At least finish your tea first!

The dark shape behind your craft is growing and the fog isn't getting any lighter. Perhaps now would be a good time to mention that your most recent goggle creation comes complete with spyglass functionality.

>

> Attack the darkness

> The fog and encroaching darkness inspires the poet within! Stand up and recite your poem to the crew in an effort to raise morale.

What does one do when facing uncertain peril? Unleash an epic balad of course! Your crew needs to undertand why you're here and why, no matter what, you're a band of brothers that wll stand strong against the darkness!

When I was just a lad, looking for my true vocation

My father said, "Now son, this choice deserves deliberation."

"Now you could be a doctor, or perhaps a financeer..."

"But, why not consider a more challenging career?"

Hey ho, ho, you'll cruse to foreign shores!

And you'll keep your mind and body sound by working out of doors!

True friendship and adventure are what we can't live without.

And when you're a professional pirat...

"That's what the job's about!" finishes one of the rats. This concerns you immensly as you thought the talking rodent thing had stopped. Uncertain of what to do, you consider that this cabin "boy" candidate did upstage you. You have him thrown overboard for insubordination. You'll finish you're poem later when you're no longer halucinating.

> Strike a heroic Pirate-Captain pose and announce to the crew, "Booty is ripe for the taking! Set course..." point in a general direction off-center of the bow "TO ADVENTURE!"

You brandish your weapon to the ambiguous foe that may or may not lie in front of your vessel and prop one foot up on the plank-seat in front of you, standing nobly with bended knee as your boat drifts listlessly to the south! "Booty is ripe for the taking! Set course, to ADVENTURE!" The rats enthusiastically dart about, they seem terribly excited by this good news! Unfortunately they can't actually do anything about it, so you continue to drift to the south (which is fine, since that's kinda where you were pointing anyways, more or less.) You cheer your crew on for their ability to keep the ship headed in the right direction despite them not being able to actually do anything.

> Fish out your goggles from your pack, then place them back in and mutter to yourself, "Technology? Who needs it when we have the open sea and the call of adventure and BOOTY!"

Sillypants, your goggles are on your head, where they always are (seriously, have you taken them off in the last year? You should probably wash them at least once). Heeding the narrator's advice, you realize that they are probably filthy, and besides, "Technology? Who needs it when you have the open sea," you point out, "and the call of adventure, and BOOTY!"

You don't actually have any booty in sight yet, but it never hurts to say the word around the crew, as it reduces the chances of a mutiny by distracting them with the promise of a meager share of shiny treasure.

Your crew's Loyalty is currently at 100%.

> Attack the darkness

In what is, by far, your boldest move since setting out on this voyage, you take advantage of your crew's favor to encourage them for the coming attack on whatever chunk of darkness was, dumb, crazy, or blind enough to get in your way (actually, it's behind you, bu-), "SHUT UP NARRATOR!" you scream into the darkness. Your crew gives you a quizical look, perhaps the doldrums are getting to you, captain?

Your crew's loyalty is at 95%.

"All hands on deck!" you shout. "Hard to starbord, fire a volley across the port bow. Hoist the mainsheets on the poopdeck!" Your steady stream of nautical-sounding gibberish has restored your crew's confidence and you as a leader. You sure know a lot of big words!

Your crew's loyalty is at 100%.

As your boat slowly spins around to face the growing darkness, you inform your crew"

"Men (and woman), before us stands an uncertain foe with uncertain booty, but what's certain is that it looks incredibly myserious and incredbly dangerous, stay alert me hearties, and prepare to send them packing back from whence they came, across the rainbow bridge to Valhalla! Hahahar!"

Your crew's loyalty is currently at 45%.

The darkness appears to be taking some sort of form now. You now see that the mysterious blob, is, in fact, a dingy, about the size of yours (but without the manly lance of manliness and it's flailing tabards). Sitting in the dingy rowing is a dark figure in a black robe rowing towards you. A scythe is laid across his knees.

This is your last chance to turn back or seek an alternative solution before your sentry gun gets within range and turns whomever you're about to encounter into someone that is truly "holeier than though."

>

> craft ammo for sentry

> Realize it's called the "poop deck" for a reason and lament the loss of your fine cabin boys. 

> Drink to kill the pain of your guilt.

> Think about maybe dealing with the Grim Reaper

____________________________________________
Let me die without fear as I have lived without it.

> Craft ammo for sentry
You would like to craft some more sentry cannon ammo, but you need some more saronite, an anvil, and a forge to finish the casings. Or perhaps you should switch to cobalt. Rumor has it that saronite can make you go a bit crazy...

> Realize it's called the "poop deck" for a reason and lament the loss of your fine cabin boys.
You suddenly realize that the crew has made the entire ship their "poop deck." Ick.

Staring death in the face, you lament the loss of Squiggles, Ballast, and Fodder your first three "Cabin Boys." You could sure use the extra hands to repel whatever is about to come your way. You stare at the floor of the S.S. Chaos again. It was worth it.

> Drink to kill the pain of your guilt.
Since you're all out of rum, you drink honeymint tea to wipe the memory of your cabin lads' tragic demises. Unfortunately, tea is full of all kinds of stimulates, so this just makes you acutely aware of the horrible thing that you've done. Your faith is wavering slightly.

Your Faith is currently at 95% [Faith dictates the efficiency of all Paladin-spells used and the effective size of your mana pool.]

> Think about maybe dealing with the Grim Reaper
You consider that scythes are often used for reaping things and that the boatsman ahead looks rather grim. You should probably do something about him, but what? Your hesitation is causing the crew to become increasingly concerned. Perhaps you should do something before they start to flee the ship like rat-... er never mind.

Crew Loyalty is at 35%.

He seems to be an ominous figure, but you've turned plenty of ominous figures into quivering piles of goo, so it's not like that actually means much. Come to think of it, you could probably pull up along side him and seize his ship. It's not like a scythe is a good close quarters weapon, and he's (or she's) wearing cloth! You like hitting things that wear cloth.

Your sentry gun might be able to tear them apart too, but if they died it would be harder to salvage anything from them due to the "enthusiasm" of the gun's tracking system. You briefly toy with the idea of modding it to respond to voice commands (and respond with it's own), but then refocus on the task at hand. Must ignore ADD impulses!

You are technically considered an ambassador within the Alliance too... perhaps diplomacy is the best course of action. Who knows, maybe he's lost in the fog too. Or perhaps he mas a message for you. Or a present! You like presents. Mmm, maybe he has salsa. Then again, if he's Horde, that's a fat 27 honor points sitting right there. Plus the boat's booty. Can't forget the booty.

You continue to approach, but steer the rudder so that you are approaching at a slight angle and can easily switch between boarding (for war... or peace) or total annihilation by technomurderingmachine, depending on what you decide to go with. As you near the figure you think you can make out skeletal features gripping the oars, but you can't make out a face (namely because he has to face away from you to row towards you).

What would Vargoth do?

>

((And probably the next update for the next couple of hours... might be able to do one mid-day ish GMT+1 tommorrow while I wait for my train to Munich, but we'll see! Now for bed and to get all my things in order. Tune in tommorrow for the next iteration of To Battle the Ambiguously Potentially Evil Dude or Not to Battle the Ambiguously Potentially Good Dude!))

> Consult vargoth and follow his wise advice

> Well, Vargoth only advised a course of action... and a silly one at that. /scoff. Align your bow to the bow of the other ship and....  FIRE! (( After all, when in doubt, empty a clip ))

> Consult vargoth and follow his wise advice

Vargoth advises you that the state of the Netherstorm is still dematerializing at an alarming rate. While this isn't particularly shocking, it's also not particularly helpful for the situation at hand. This prompts you to end the transmission with yet another, "URR URRR URRR!"

Your reputation with Achmage Vargoth has decreased by 15.

> Well, Vargoth only advised a course of action... and a silly one at that. /scoff. Align your bow to the bow of the other ship and....  FIRE!

Better safe than sorry is the motto of the day, it seems, you move your boat so that the grim figure is now in the sentry turret's firing arc. With a whir and a beep the sentry hums to life and proceeds to unload 200 rounds at the dingy in a span of about 4 seconds.

Your boat is now sitting in the fog amidst a pile of driftwood. Your senty gun ripped the grim figure's boat to shreds, and it is now a pile of damaged wood, bones, and perhaps... Booty!

Your crew's loyalty is now at 40%.

The rats gather, squeeking, and peer over the side at the wreckage. Eager to help perhaps? Or perhaps eager to mutiny and take the treasure all for themselves. You'll need to keep an eye on them.

Sans the new wreckage, circumstances are more or less the same. You are still sitting in a dark fog bank with little sense of direction. At least the creepy guy is gone though.

>

> Deactivate Sentry Gun

> Deactivate Sentry Gun

That'll do pig, that'll do. More importantly, you don't want it blasting either yourself or your crewmembers into tiny meat chunks when you go to retrieve the fat loot that must be floating there. MUST be there! (If you want to stand any chance of evading a mutiny anyways).

Amidst the wreckage you can make out a hole-filled, shredded robe (might be good for holy spec), a floating skull (whose jawbone is curiously still attached) with diamonds for eyes, several miscelanrous bones and bone fragments that have become increasingly irrelevant and scattered, a scythe, and a water-logged tome. There's also lots of wood chips, in case you were planning on planting any trees.

>

> Take Skull

> Lament Yorick

> Promise crew wealth beyond avarice once you can auction the diamonds

> Take robe and do your best to sew up the holes. Don the robe and pretend you are the Dread Pirate Roberts!

> Gather up the splinters of wood and see if any can be used as torches. Hunker down the crew and yourself, carefully avoiding the 'poop' deck as much as possible and drift off to sleep.

> Take Skull

You manuever the boat close to the wreckage and reach down to pick up the skull, which you now see is sitting on a larger chunk of driftwood (which explains why it didn't sink). It tries to bite you. "Yipe!" you yell out in surprise.

"Tremble in fear, MORTAL, for your doom has come at last, ha ha ha ha! In but a moment I shall take your feeble MORTAL life, tear you limb from limb, and stroll through the gates of Hell with your head on a pike!"

> Lament Yorick

"Alas, poor Yorick," you begin, "I knew him well!" (Actually, this is a lie,  you only met him a couple times in class, and tended to avoid him because he had some rather wierd habits that drove all your other friends away).

The skull looks like it's glaring at you. "My name isn't Yorick you moron, it's Wallce," it corrects, in a rather annoyed tone. "So, you're the douchebag that, completely unprovoked, blasted me and my boat completely out of the water?"

"My boat and I," you correct. Wallace glares at you.

The two of you stare at one another from your respective boats (or from boat to boat-remnant, as it is). Perhaps further conversation would be fruitful. Or at least amusing. You fish a skeltal arm and foot out of the water and bind them together with some frostweave cloth. You then use this make-shift staff to shove a skeletal hand inside Wallace's mouth so you can fish him out of the water and onto your boat. You handle him with care, because, like a baraccuda, he'll probably bite you if given the chance. You aren't entirely sure you want talking skull rabies, or whatever he might have. You don't know where he's been after all...

You find him a nice cozy spot on the "poop" deck and lower him down. Wallace glares at you while muttering curses (as in obscenities, not literal curses) under his breath. "Why if I had my body, I'd [unintelligble mumbling]..."

> Promise crew wealth beyond avarice once you can auction the diamonds

The crew doesn't know what avarice means, but once again they are impressed by your big words. The mention of diamonds and auctions rallies their spirits though.

Crew Loyalty is at 65%.

> Take robe and do your best to sew up the holes. Don the robe and pretend you are the Dread Pirate Roberts!

You don't know anything about tailoring (still... and probably never will) but you do your best to patch up the soggy cloak using some spare engineering parts and your mechanical prowess. The end result is a damp, crusty, hole-filled, plate-patched abomination of a robe that looks like a bad Dr. Doom costume. You try to impersonate the Dread Pirate Roberts, but it's not particularly convincing in this outfit. What kinda pirate wears a robe, anyways? You wear it over your armor anyways. You now bear a distant resemblance to a Sithlord that fell off his hoverbike too many times. Still, it doesn't look altogther un-badass.

You have obtained: Sinister Blackened Metal-Patched Robe (that can be worn over plate!)

"Oh, so first you shoot me and my boat to pieces, and THEN you have the gall to steal and ruin my clothes? I hate adventurers."

Wallace looks annoyed (though it's not like he didn't before). He glares at you from the "poop" deck. Perhaps setting him there wasn't the best of choice if you want to improve relations with him. Then again, he does have diamonds for eyes, and probably would lose a one-on-one fight. You idly wonder what turn evil would do to something without legs, but this is only a passing thought, as your pupils slowly turn into money signs, while you stare at Wallace's eyes (and this is creepy for a few different reasons).

> Gather up the splinters of wood and see if any can be used as torches. Hunker down the crew and yourself, carefully avoiding the 'poop' deck as much as possible and drift off to sleep.

You collect a pile of wood splinters, but really, they're almost entirely splinters (albeit large ones). The only one large enough to make a torch is the panel that Wallace was floating on. You retrieve it, but it's too water-logged to be used for any kind of torch at this time. It's been a long day, and rest never hurts (as long as you aren't surrounded by ambiguous evil on all sides and a talking skull that hates your guts) and decide to try and settle in for the night. The entire dingy is a poop deck at this point, so you do your best to sleep sitting up in an awkward bundled sort of position. The gengle rocking of the sea is rather calming, but it's counter-balanced by Wallace's grumbling. You uncomfortably begin to drift off to sleep.

One last thought lingers in your mind as you slowly drift off, perhaps it would be prudent to reactivate the sentry turret in case you're attacked? Then again, you don't really like the idea of benig murdered in your sleep by your own device either.

And yes, it's still foggy.

>

> NIGHTMARE

> Wake Up

> NIGHTMARE

> Ponder why you were dreaming of dancing half naked in The Grim Guzzler while the Tauren Chieftains were rocking out to their hit single.

You slide into a light sleep. You are standing in the Grim Guzzler and its getting hot, so you rip your shirt off. Blackrock Depths is so hot, in fact, that ETC is playing there. Groovy. You start to dance to the beat and a circle forms around you, awed by your mastey of the groove. Then a a mysterious figure in a dark robe parts the crowd and begins to taunt you with death threats, graphically describing the hordes of innocents he has slaughtered, tribes he's made extinct, villages, he's burnt to the ground, and puppies he's kicked (he seemed very specific about that one). He then proceeds to deliver the gnarliest set of break dancing moves you've ever seen. You got served.

> Wake Up

You wake up in a cold sweat. As if you could ever lose a dance-off, hah! Wallace is stull grumbling and you realize that all the threats being uttered by the shadowy figure were actualyl just various comments that he was spewing out. He continues to threaten you with severe bodily harm, but he would be much more intimidating if he wasn't just a skull clacking his mandibles away in angst-ridden verbal retribution for blowing up his ship, and body.

He decides upon a different tack, seeing as this one isn't working out so well.

"Say, buddy, could you be a pal and give me back my arm over there?" he says cheerily, rocking back and forth slightly in an attempt to gesture at his arm (which it is admitedly hard to point at, since it's the thing that does the pointing most of the time).

You hold up the skeletal arm and consider it thoughtfully.

>

> Ponder the options.

1. Give the skeletal arm to the Skull of Wallace.

2. Eye the Pirat crew while holding up the skeletal arm and wonder if they are hungry for something to gnaw on.

3. Heave the skeletal arm as far overboard as possible. Its bad enough you have a skull cursing you, but to give it a means to also flip you off?

4. Use the Skeletal arm as a back scratcher. Aaaaaahhh feels so good!

5. Remember that you are an Engineer, and all good Engineers have a portable Worm-hole with them at all times. Consider using it to escape this bizzare silliness with cursing skulls and singing Pirat's.

6. Oh who are we kidding? Throw caution to the wind, or lack thereof, and wait for the next puppet master to pull your strings.

(( Apologies in advance if this one is a bit overboard (HA!) or doesn't fit in with the ebb and flow (HAHA!) of things. I'll skulk (HAHAHA!) back to work now. ))

> Fish Wallace's scythe out of the water.

> Ponder the options.

You consider your options carefully, particularly the wormhole one. You do have a Wormhole Generator, in fact.

> Fish Wallace's scythe out of the water.

You reach your hands into the ocean and pull out the soggy scythe. Wallace becomes oddly cordial. Maybe he's not such a bad guy after all and you should give it back to him, "I need it to continue in my slaughter of thousands of- I mean uh... hoe my daffodil garden. Yes. That's it!" he remarks.

Perhaps it's magical! You examine the scythe and it does have a +15 Herbalism enchantment on it.

>

> Shove Wallace and his +15 Scythe of Herbalism into a wormhole.

> Discharge crew from their duties into the same wormhole, explaining that Wallace's eyes are their share of the treasure.

> Shove Wallace and his +15 Scythe of Herbalism into a wormhole.

> Discharge crew from their duties into the same wormhole, explaining that Wallace's eyes are their share of the treasure.

You turn on the portable wormhole generator and don't care where it ends up. You want to send that insipid talking skull and his stupid scythe (which apparently was used in harvesting wheat, and not souls) anywhere but here. You activate the wormhole and quickly throw in the scythe.

You've also had it with this notoriously unreliable crew and you inform them that treasure awaits them at the other end of the wormhole, and that they must follow Wallace and his bejeweled eyes to booty!

Mention of booty has restored your crew's loyalty to 80%.

You glare at Wallace before picking him up. Good riddance. "Hey, what... what are you doing with that?" He furrows his skeletal brow. "Remember when I said I'd kill you last?" you ask him.

"No, as a matter of fact, I don't. I'm already dead anyways, and what does that have to do with-" you cut him off, "I lied." No one's gonna mess up your Commando quote. You wind up your arm and pitch him into the wormhole with all your might and- "Ow!"

The bastard bit you and is clinging to your fingers like a rabid ferret. You flick your hand around near the wormhole in a desperate attempt to get him off. It's sort of worked, as he is now being sucked through it... but so are you. You have only moments to spare before you're going along for the ride to wherever that Herbalism Scythe went. Your pirat crew jumps on you in a show of solidarity (or possibly to make sure you don't go anywhere without their loot).

You are being sucked into a wormhole on top of your dingy (Hmm, that sounds ambiguously dirty out of context).

>

> Wave to Bill and Ted and the SG-1 team

> Narrowly avoid collision with the TARDIS.

> Arrive.

> Cushion landing with Yeti Kebab

> Search memory for a suitable Arnold quote to arrive with

>Fashion crude parachutes for rats out of tattered tabard sails, in the event of an air arrival

> Wave to Bill and Ted and the SG-1 team

You flail your hand around and grab at the boat as you enter the portal in an attempt to find some stability. You end up taking it with you through the wormhole. As you fly through the wormhole in an ambiguously nondescript way intended not to infringe upon any pre-established engineering canon, you wave to Bill and Ted in their time-traveling phone both. "Be excellent to eachother!" they advice you sagely. Wise words from wise men. You also spot and wave at the SG-1 team worm-hole traveling in the opposite direction. You wonder if they're going to pop out in Tanaris and declare the Old Gods of Azeroth to be Go'uld. They give you an odd look. Or at least you pretend that they do; you're moving faster than light so it's really hard to tell at this juncture. O'Neil isn't with them, so they must be in a later season. Lame.

> Narrowly avoid collision with the TARDIS.

Dr. Who rams your ship in yet another time traveling phone booth (sedriously, since when did they become so popular a model for wormhole transportation? What ever happened to Deloreans?) However, due to an obscure chance of quantum mechanics, the two of you pass right through one another. Eeries. You probably shouldn't do that again, because odds are not in your favor of repeating that feat of improbability.

>Fashion crude parachutes for rats out of tattered tabard sails, in the event of an air arrival

You do your best while en route to clip some of the falailing tabards into parachutes for your pirats. Again, you don't know how to tailor very well, but you do know how to tinker! You cut little rectangles of cloth out to make mini rat capes and modify these with flexweave underlays. Your crew appreciates this noble gesture.

Crew loyalty is at 100%.

> Arrive.

> Cushion landing with Yeti Kebab

You grab the yeti kabob and are ready to throw it down at a moments notice to use as a makeshift cussion for when you arrive. WIth a completely disorienting lurch you are flung uncerimonously towards the ground from about 10 feet up in the air. Quickly you throw the kabob down below you to absorb some of the impact.

Success!

You are now partially-impaled on a "yeti kabob." Your health is now at 70%. You are infected with Stark Raving Mad Yeti Disease (50% chance when conversing with someone to punch them in the face for the heck of it. 10% chance to kick them in the groin).

You look arond you. You are standing in a grassy clearing. To the North is a yeti cave. To the South lies the village of Southshore. To the East lies Tarren Mill and Durnehold Keep. To the West lies.. Aw, hell no.

"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-" you cry, as you channel the spirit of your guild leader [truncated for the kinder!]

You are in Hillsbrad Foothills. It is dark. You are likely to be eaten by a ticklebang. Or a grue. If they exist.

You are in the company of a 100% loyal pirat crew with parachute capes and First Mate Splintara <Ghost Scions> is wearing a makeshift pirate bandana. There is a boat sitting next to you on the grass with a lance for a mast and a yardarm full of shredded tabards flailing about in the wind.

> Search memory for a suitable Arnold quote to arrive with

It's time for another motivational speech to your crew. You strike a pose, turn to your crew and manfully state, "This is what is best in life: Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of the women!"

Your crew's loyalty is now at 110%. They are now ready to play football.

You have gained 25 reputation with Wallace.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" the talking skull says from the grassy lump beneath your feet.

Wait a minute, did you remember to turn the Sentry Gun off? Which direction is the bow facing? You haven't moved much since landing and giving your speech. Did you remember to install that IFF detector? You are suddenly very, very afraid to walk too much further before checking the gun's position. You slowly turn around to see that you are about 5 degrees behind its firing arc (it is currently pointing directly to the West. Phew. Better not step back to far.

>

> Send pi-rats to scout the yeti cave

> Cast Cleanse on self