VRYKERION

  • Mass Effect 3 Leviathan: The Aftermath

    This post contains no spoilers for the Mass Effect 3 DLC, Leviathan.  It also makes no sense unless you’ve played it.  It’s kinda like a double edged sword.  Of puns.  And plot.  But not important plot.  You know what? #$%& it, I suck at metaphors. Here’s the bit:

    Ashley: Shepard, what are you doing with Dr. Bryson’s experiment?
    Shepard: Going a-head with the war, Ash.
    Ashley: No. We’re not doing this.
    Shepard: But they say two heads are better than one!
    Ashley: I’m dumping you.
    Shepard: Thanks for the heads up.
    Ashley: Scratch that. I’m gonna kill you.
    Shepard: No need to lose your head!
    Ashley: GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
    BANG! POW! BOOM!

    Meanwhile on the Lower Decks…
    James: Best. Idea. Ever.
    Liara: I concur.
    EDI: Indeed.

  • The Scotsman is a Dwarf Shammy

    From the Demented Mind of Vrykerion comes this WoW/Samurai Jack mash up:

    Long ago in a distant land, I, Nozdormu, the shape-shifting Dragon Master of Time, unleashed an unspeakable evil!

    But a foolish group of heroes wielding magical purples stepped forth to oppose me.

    Before the final blow was struck, I tore open a portal in time and flung them into the future, where my evil is LAW!

    Now the fools seeks to return to the past, and undo the future that is MUROZOND!

  • Questions and Answers… Of Sorts

    Okay, things have been quiet around here for a while.  The halls of the internet echo with whispers and questions about what fate may have happened to the Man in the Awesome Hat.  Well, allow me to answer some of these mutterings, as well as some other questions I’ve seen pop up from google searches…

    Where the #$%& Have You Been?

    Real life caught up to me.  I don’t know what else to say.  I’ve gotten into a wonderful relationship with a fantastic girl, I’ve got a D&D game going full steam, and somewhere in there I still try to level my characters in TOR, WoW and DDO as well as play other games.  Life is just… full at the moment.

    What the #$%& Does This Mean For the Blog?

    Honestly? I haven’t a clue.  I don’t want to abandon this blog.  The name and the spirit of which stay true in my opinion.  It’s not always funny, but I’d like to think it’s always a bit weird.  I’m not always funny, but I am ALWAYS weird.  So I’d like to keep it.  Much like Oddcraft, it might become one of those things I just update whenever.  I don’t know yet. That’s what I’m working on figuring out right now.

    What’s the #$%&-ing Plan?

    What did I just say!?!  Okay, okay, okay.  Here’s one idea I’m tossing around.  I have no idea if it’s any good, so why don’t you tell me.  A video.  Once a week, I do a video.  Dunno when, but sometime during the week.  It could be a long video, it could be a short video.  It might be talking about video games, or comic books, or a cartoon, or it just might be a ‘Vry Rants’ or even a few ‘Ask Vrykerions’ in there.  All depends on what I’m feeling.  That’s one idea. How’s that?

    Other Questions From Google Search Hits:

    Is Adventure Time Really a Post-Apocalyptic Earth?

    Yes.  It is.  This is not a “Theory”.  This is a stated flat out fact by Pendleton Ward, creator of the show, during an interview with Wizards of the Coast:

    Adventure Time is about two buds, a young paladin in training named Finn and his shapeshifting dog Jake. They live in “Ooo” which is post-apocalyptic Earth, after the bombs have dropped and magic’s come back into the world.

    There’s no if’s or maybe’s there.  The show takes place on Post-Apocalyptic Earth.  No discussion needed.  Now the real fun is trying to piece together what happened…

    Is Dr. Caitlin Fairchild a lesbian in the New 52?

    No clue.  At least not officially.  It came up as a possibility a few times in the Superboy comics, where Rose Wilson implies that they may have been something more than just friends, and again during The Culling crossover when Rose confronts Caitlin about being betrayed by someone you care deeply about.  However, since Caitlin got her own book with The Ravagers, it hasn’t really come up again.  They’re too busy drawing her in bikinis for no particular reason.  So the answer is… Possibly?  Let’s just hope if she is, we get something better than introducing us to her lover and then immediately killing said lover off. (I’m sorry, Alan Scott.  I really, really am.)

    What is the first breather mask you get in SWTOR?

    While the earliest you can technically get one is level 10 if you are a Sith Juggernaut and have a Legacy level of 10 from the Legacy armor vendors on Dromund Kaas, beyond possible random drops I know for certain there is at least one for both medium and heavy armor on the Nar Shadaa commendation vendor.  It’s moddable, which is the one I used for my bounty hunter by switching everything out for +Aim stuff.  There might be one from a quest… No clue there.

    Gnome Death Knight names?

    Find something cute or technology-y, like Puff or Sprocket, and then add the word “Death” to it.  If it’s already taken, try shortening Death to Deth.

    “Swtor Darth Zash Sex”?

    Uhh…  Female? O_O;;; (How did this lead you to my blog again????)

  • Reassemble – Chapter One Finale

    Last Time: Vrykerion, Calowen, Waeryn and Jolsin saw a suspicious column of smoke rising from the necropolis in the depths of Deatholme.  Upon investigating they found a pair of Scourge that were creating a massive abomination to host the soul and mind of the former ruler of Deatholme: Dar’khan.  Acting quickly, they assaulted the two undead.  The battle was intense, but the four paladins luckily succeeded.  In their moment of relief, Calowen threw Vrykerion aside and took a bladed fist to her torso.  The abomination had risen during the battle…  Now Vrykerion stands against the creature that just stole the life of his love…

    Vrykerion’s eye twitched and lips curled.  He dropped his shield and rose with sword in hand.  Holy energy began to swirl around him like crackles of lightning in the air.  Waeryn and Jolsin, wide eyed in fear and awe, stepped back out of the room.  Vrykerion bared his teeth, grinding them into each other so hard that his jaw would be in pain for the rest of the week.  He did not care.  He didn’t care about anything except for the monster in front of him.

    The stone floor erupted in flashes of consecrated light.  His sword ignited with ripples of holy energy. He tightened his grip on the handles as divine power flashed and erupted into yellow lightning around his body.

    “Your brain.  You’re thinking about it too much.”

     “Now try it again.  But this time, don’t THINK the target is an enemy.  FEEL it.”

     Vrykerion did feel it.  It didn’t matter if he never felt anything again in his life, but this he would feel.  Every ounce of anguish, every lost moment of happiness – He would feel them all, and this monstrosity would feel them too, “Divine…  STORM!”

    The room ignited with light, blinding both Waeryn and Jolsin momentarily.  When their eyes eventually readjusted to their surroundings, all that remained of the creature that called itself ‘Dar’Khan’ was a lump of fleshy bits and the occasional bone piercing out from the pile.

    Vrykerion was on his knees next to the remains of Calowen, sobbing and screaming.  Calowen’s body was decimated; her entire torso was nothing but a cavity that was hollowed out like a rind of a well eaten melon. He kept trying to conjure the holy light only to have it dissipate as it landed on her body, “Damn you.  DAMN YOU!  Give her back to me!”

    Jolsin stepped behind him and tried to put his hand on Vrykerion’s shoulder only to have it batted away, “Look Vry,  I’m sorry.  I really am.  The Light may be able to restore the soul to the body but…”  Jolsin voice cracked, a sob of his own joining in, “But there’s not much a body for it to return to, Vry.”

    Vrykerion ignored him.  He kept trying the spells.  He filled himself with Light and tried over and over to transfer it, any of it, into Calowen’s husk of a body.

    “Light damn you, Vrykerion!  She isn’t one of your gadgets or toys!  You don’t have the tools to fix her. None of us do!”

    Vrykerion leapt to his feet and grabbed Jolsin’s collar, lifting him into the air slightly.  Waeryn drew his sword in preparation to defend his teammate.  Vrykerion’s eyes focused on Jolsin, his quivering lips contorting between rage and sorrow, “The Light IS my tool.  I. WILL. FIX. HER.” He threw Jolsin into Waeryn and pointed at the door.  They left, leaving Vrykerion to kneel back down and try again and again to bring Calowen back.  No one saw him again for another two days.

    —

    Tears fell on the parchment, leaving some stains of wetness as Vrykerion finished the last of the sketches of the myriad of assorted parts.  He had removed his goggles some time ago, and now his quill sat on the desk with them.  He looked over his drawings and notes, trying to make sure he didn’t miss anything.  A choked sob escaped his lips as he picked up the quill again to jot down a few extras notes.

    For the first time in hours, he spoke, “Once the components are understood, you can work to develop primary steps for assembly.”  With that Vrykerion wiped his eyes away and took out another sheet of parchment and began to draw a schematic.

    —

    “What in the name of Kael’thas the traitor do you MEAN you are leaving the Blood Knights?” Kitarin screamed at his son, mere inches from his face, “Do you want me and your mother to die copper-less in these slums?  Maybe a warlock will use our souls to conjure a demon now that you’ve RIPPED THEM OUT!”  His father’s fist, easily dodged, slammed into the wall.

    “Kitarin, please, maybe we should hear his reasons,” Vrykerion’s mother, Arista, pleaded.

    “What reason could he possibly have to justify murdering his own family?!”

    Arista sobbed, “Please can we at least wait until after you’ve come down off the thistle to talk about this?”

    “And where will you go, Sir Paladin?  Will you join the war to be a big hero like your brother?  You want to die to those kaldorei bastards like him too?”

    Vrykerion stood there, without an expression on his face.  His cold and dead eyes peering out from the broken lens of his goggles dangling from the first punch that his father did actually land, “No.  I have no interest in joining the war.”

    “Then where will you go?” Arista asked, her small voice penetrating through the crying.

    “I don’t know.  Away.” Vrykerion said.  His voice was a forced monotone, “Away from here.”

    “You arrogant piece of filth!  At least Herio was a war hero.  You?  You’re just a coward to abandon your family. And after everything we did for you?  We put you in that academy, and we gave you everything your brother left behind, just to make sure you had a good and prosperous life,”  Kitarin stepped back shaking his head.

    “You did that because you blew every silver on bloodthistle and got thrown out of the Exchange and you wanted Herio and then me to drag you back into the limelight by having some level of respectability.”

    Kitarin let out a roar and dove at Vrykerion.   Vrykerion grabbed his wrist and threw Kitarin against the wall.  Vrykerion then proceeded to grab Kitarin’s shirt and flip him over his head and onto the table, breaking it in half.  Kitarin tried to pull himself to his feet, only to twist his back and collapse back onto the rubble.

    “I would suggest not trying again,” Vrykerion said as he turned, grabbed a sack by the door, and walked out.

    “Good riddance!” Kirarin shouted out from the small apartment with the cries of his mother in the background, “And don’t let me ever hear that you used our family name! You are not my son!”

    Vrykerion walked across the city to the royal tower where he used the Orb of Translocation to reach the Undercity.  He drew the gnomish pocket watch out from his pants and reached his thumb to open up the lid and see the time but he stopped.  He looked at the watch for a moment and thought, ‘Time for them to be dead to me too.’  He threw the watch as hard as he could at the walls of the Ruins of Lordaeron and watched it shattered in pieces, each one raining down onto the stone floor.

    He began to march off solemnly but stopped after twenty steps or so.  He turned at looked at the ruined device, scattered into wheels, cogs and springs across the ground.  He swallowed hard and ran back and gathered them all up in a small brown linen bag. He then slid down the walls of the ruined human capital and began to sob, clutching the bag tightly.  He let everything out.  The screams of frustration, the raging and hateful things he wanted to say to his father, and all the tears from breaking his mother’s heart.

    After a half hour, his anguish finally began to subside. He wiped his eyes and stood back up.  The time for sorrow had ended.  The time for revenge against the Scourge had begun.

    —

    Vrykerion put the finishing strokes on his blueprints.  It was a lavish design, worthy of a gnome tinkerer.  He smiled at himself, “As primary steps are established, secondary and tertiary steps will automatically become apparent.”  He pulled out a pair of tweezers from his gnomish army knife and picked up a cog, “Once ready, assembly can begin.”

    Thus concludes Chapter 1: Design, To Be Continued in Chapter 2: Assembly.

    Thus ends the first chapter of the story. While admitedly the second part is not finished yet, trust that I will have it posted here on the same Saturday schedule when it is.  I hope you enjoyed the first half of this little tale!

  • Reassemble – Chapter One, Part Four

    Last Time:  Vrykerion, his lover Calowen, and two other paladins – Waeryn and Jolsin – were on a mission to Deatholme in the Ghostlands, but upon finding that the majority of the fortress had been abandoned, they were set to head home. But as they left, a strange smoke stack had manifested from the necropolis in the center of the dead city.  After a short argument, they four paladins headed into the foul smelling depths to investigate…

    The silence was broken as they reached the bottom by dry and crackled female voice coming from a room at the bottom of the last flight of stairs, “Imagine it, Dolcrim:  The Master Dar’khan’s mind and soul, in such an unstoppable body!”

    A second voice chimed in, this one low and grumbly but with a slight echo to it that made Vrykerion’s blood run cold, “I should hope so.  Gandling wants the Ghostlands back in the Cult’s hands. These setbacks are growing too many in number, and this project of yours cost us nearly three legions of undead to construct.”

    “Did they say Dar’kahn?” Jolsin asked.

    “And who’s Gandling?” Waeryn muttered.

    “Quiet.  I’m going for a closer look,” Calowen uttered and she slowly started to step down the stairway.  Step by step, her armor rattled gently.  Step by step, it felt like Vrykerion’s heartbeat was slowing.  As Calowen crept down the finally stair, Vrykerion remembers to inhale.  She peeked around the edge of the doorway and gestured back to the rest of the group: THREE SCOURGE. TWO ‘MANCERS. ONE BIG.

    Vrykerion tilted his head and mouthed back down to her, “How big?”

    Calowen widened her eyes a bit and nodded slightly, mouthing back, “BIG.”  She glanced back through the door for a moment and then looked back to gesture that the large one appeared to be unconscious.

    Vrykerion nodded and turned back to Waeryn and Jolsin, “Here’s the plan.  We’ll split up.  You two take one of the necromancers and Cal and I will grab the other.  Hopefully, whatever this big one is we hopefully won’t rouse it.”  His team mates nodded and Vrykerion turned back to Calowen and lifted three fingers.  Then he dropped one to two fingers, then to one.

    As soon as the last finger dropped into a single balled up fist, Calowen leapt into the room and unleashed a judging blast of holy power at one of the necromancers.  Vrykerion and the other two members of the team bolted down the stairs to quickly join her in the room.  The necromancers were dressed in the garb of the Cult of the Damned, one a male human with glowing blue eyes and the other a forsaken woman.  Behind them rested a massive figure, covered in a bloody sheet inscribed with necromantic runes.

    Calowen and Vrykerion dashed towards the man, landing their shoulders against his chest and pushing him toward the wall.  Meanwhile, Waeryn and Jolsin got on opposite sides of the forsaken woman and begun to swing their blades, one low and the other high, in a maneuver they called ‘the double duel trap’.  The technique had proven excellent against mindless ghouls, but as their blades collided was a shielding sphere of dark magic, they quickly found themselves on the defensive. Dodging blasts and calling upon the light to cleanse the foul curses burning their flesh from under their armor.

    The forsaken cackled, “You cannot stop us! The master stirs! THE MASTER COMES!”

    “Silence!  Your breath is worse than your plague,” Jolsin shouted as he drove directly toward the shielding spell, shattering its protective barrier and allowing Waeryn an opening to take his sword to the necromancer’s neck from behind, severing the spinal cord and causing her to drop to the floor, still screaming her zealous proclamations.

    “Finish it, Jols.”  Waeryn said.

    “With pleasure.  By the Holy Light, be purged!”  A brilliant light burst forth from Jolsin’s hand, engulfing the downed necromancer.  As the light faded, a burning pile of ash was all that remained.

    Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Calowen and Vrykerion slammed the human into the wall next to the sleeping monstrosity.  From beneath the sheet, a large hand fell out bearing several foot-long blade like claws.  Calowen brought down her mace toward the man’s face, which he caught with his hand.  She could hear the cracking of bones as it made impact causing her to wince for a moment, while the man only grinned at the sound.  Vrykerion slashed at the man’s side and cut him deep, but no blood spilt forth.

    “What are you?” Vrykerion asked.

    The man gave him a toothy grin, “Someone you will regret meeting.”  He then slammed his open hands into both Vrykerion and Calowen’s solar plexuses and threw them across the room.

    As Vrykerion struggled to his feet, the man rushed over and clasped his hands around Calowen’s head.  He began to squeeze, causing the helm to start to crack, “Imagine what will happen to your head once I break your shell.”

    “I don’t think you’ll have a chance,” Vrykerion said as he stood. Taking his sword in hand, he began to wail away at the man’s back.  Tearing through his robes and cutting deep into his back.  As chunks of fleshy flew off, there was no blood.  Instead there was viscous black ooze that just seemed to splatter out from the wounds.

    The man laughed maniacally as Vrykerion hacked away at him bit by bit to the point of exposing the back of his rib cage.  He continued his anguishing squeeze of Calowen’s head.  The cracks grew larger in her helm, and as the pressure built up she began to scream.

    Hearing her voice cry out in pain, Vrykerion gritted his teeth and balled up his fist. ‘No one hurts her. NO ONE.’ Vrykerion’s hand ignited with holy energy.  It took the form of a hammer as he launched his first deep through the monster of a man’s shredded back, breaking through bone and flesh until he reached the man’s heart.  Taking that organ into his hand, Vrykerion squeezed with everything he had until he felt it rupture and spilt the black tar out.  The man, hands still wrapped around Calowen’s nearly shattered helmet, collapsed.

    Vrykerion threw the body to the side and grabbed Calowen, “Are you okay?” She nodded slightly, her eyes barely able to stay open.  Vrykerion’s eyes swelled with tears as he hugged her.

    “Mission accomplished. Can we go back to the Sanctum now?” a winded Waeryn said, leaning up against the doorway with Jolsin.  Vrykerion looked up at them, tears rolling down his cheeks and a massive grin on his face, and nodded.

    Suddenly, Calowen’s grip on Vrykerion’s shoulder tightened, “Vry! MOVE!” She shoved him aside and onto the floor just in time for him to see a massive, grey, muscly arm covered in blades and spikes rip into Calown’s chest.  It broke right through her ribs, the claws ripping right out the back of her armor and leaving a puddle of blood.

    All eyes followed the arm back to its owner.  It seemed that in all the commotion that the thing under the sheets had decided to get up after all.  A gigantic abomination with four arms, each lined with claws and what appeared to be embedded swords and daggers.  It’s twisted mouth cracked open, “BehOLD, thuh Neeew DAAR’KhAAAn! I  AM reBOOOOORN!”

  • Reassemble – Chapter One, Part Three

    “Welcome to the Ghostlands.”

    That was not the phrase Vrykerion had wanted to hear after having such a wonderful night, but orders were orders.  He, along with Calowen and a dozen of other new recruits were ordered to report that morning to Dame Auriferous.  Auriferous was a red headed woman wearing a red robes and a tabard marking her as member of the defense forces at Tranquillien.

    “I understand each you visited here once during your trials, but this is not a quick jaunt across the runestones to kill a couple of nerubians.  You’ve been brought here to go in the heart of the infection, Deatholme, for some mop up operations.  The Scourge have been harder to rip out of there than a dwarf from the pub,” Auriferous announced.   Vrykerion glanced over at Calowen; she had gone pale in fright.  Vrykerion reached over and took her hand in his and he watched as a smile grew and some of her color returned.

    “We will begin launching attacks in groups of four from the Sanctum of the Sun.  You can drop your gear and take your downtime there.  Just don’t bother the Magisters.  Any questions?”  The group stood silent.  Vrykerion wasn’t sure if they didn’t have any questions, or everyone was too afraid of the forceful elf standing side by side with a forsaken deathstalker.  After a moment of silence, she dismissed them and they began to hike down the trail to the Sanctum.

    The attacks really weren’t as bad as the Auriferous had made out.  They would leave in a team of four and clear out the Dead Scar up to Deatholme and then make precision strikes against specific targets inside the fortress.  The one group attacked a mausoleum, another struck a crypt, Vrykerion and Calowen’s first target was an underground laboratory.  Over a couple of weeks, they each met with success and everyone regrouped at the Sanctum to share stories, battle tactics and have a good laugh.  Vrykerion spent his evenings with Calowen or taking apart his pocket watch and examining how it works.  They were paladins, and they feared nothing.

    It wasn’t until Vrykerion’s tenth trip into the fortress that he began to notice that the dead were getting fewer in number.  He felt a swell of pride at first knowing that he had contributed to it but something in his gut sat wrong.  Why were the forces in the fortress thinning out, when the legions of undead waddling across the Dead Scar were always renewed back to their previous day’s numbers?  His team made their way across the foul grounds of Deatholme, the sickening stench of rotten meat still filled the air.  They ascended the steps of a ziggurat, finding it completely unguarded and ultimately empty.

    “This is wrong,” said Waeryn, one of Vrykerion’s other teammates; “There should be something in here. No one has been in this far.”

    Vrykerion’s other teammates, Jolsin, smiled and let out a laugh, “Maybe they retreated.  Decided they couldn’t best us and just packed it up and headed home.”

    Calowen looked at Vrykerion with a stern look on her face and he met hers with an equally concerned one.  She turned to Jolsin, “The Scourge do not retreat.”

    Waeryn shifted nervously, looking around in fear of an ambush, “Regardless, the objective is complete. We cleared out the ziggurat.  We should head back.”

    They looked back and forth amongst the group a few times, silently nodding along with the idea.  Vrykerion sheathed his blade, “Very well then.”  One by one they exited, making sure to watch every dark corner as they stepped outside.  That’s when Vrykerion saw it.  A pillar of green smoke coming from the necropolis at the center of the fortress, “Has anyone reported that before?”

    Calowen shook her head, “No.  That most certainly is new.”

    Waeryn looked back and forth at Vrykerion and Calowen, “No.  NO.  We did our job.  Mission complete. We are not going in there.”

    “Oh come on, Wae-wae.  It’s not like we’ve encountered a single thing thus far that four of us couldn’t best,” Jolsin taunted, nudging Waeryn toward the necropolis.

    “Cut it out you two,” Calowen scolded, “What do you think Vry?  It’s not our job.”

    Vrykerion shook his head, “We’re paladins, Cal. It IS our job.”

    Calowen nodded and drew her shield and mace, “As you say, sir.”

    Waeryn, however, did not draw his weapons, “No. I’m sorry, but no.  I’m not getting killed going against the battle plan just because you two are sneaking off to fondle each other in the bushes every nigh-”

    Calowen cut him off with a firm slam of her armored hand against his helmed face, “Do you want the Scourge to win?  For all we know they’re brewing up another batch of plague in there, ready to spill it out across the entire Ghostlands.  This is suspicious behavior and we don’t have time to wait until we report back and send out another team, nor do we have time to waste trying to pry your head from your arse because you have nothing to come back to base for – except your hand!”

    Waeryn and Jolsin immediately drew their swords. Vrykerion chuckled, “Impulsive as ever I see.”

    “Oh shush. You know you like it,” Calowen smiled, “Now let’s see about that smoke.”

    The journey into the necropolis was similarly easy and just as worrisome.  The fact that so few undead were in the fortress, especially high ranking ones, just fueled Vrykerion’s fears about the smoke.  They cautiously made their way into the depths of the building though, making sure to check everything and everywhere for possible traps or potential ambushes.  One that that grew more obvious as they traveled deeper was that ever present smell of rotting meat was getting stronger.

  • Comic Corner: Justice League #10 & Teen Titans #10

    Justice League #10

    Justice League issue 10 finally brings us face to…  um…  husk? With our newest villain: Graves.  He’s actually not new at all. He appeared way back in Justice League #6 as a writer who first proclaimed the Justice League as gods.  However, it seems he’s changed his mind about that.  Honestly, he seems to be established as a damn good villain and is definitely poses a huge threat to the league.  It’s not exactly clear what his abilities are except that he seems to be possessed by these demonic astral wyrms that feed off of suffering and sorrow, which allows him to use the heroes’ worst memories against them.  It’s definitely a unique angle to go with a new big bad and I’m excited to hear more about Graves as we go.

    The issue itself is done in a very cinematic fashion, cutting between flashbacks to how Graves, a man who five years ago had it all and four years ago was somehow knocking on death’s door, got his new powers and the current going on with the League.  The League does a great job of actually starting to work towards an understanding with each other instead of just complaining about how much they don’t really like each other.  Like how Batman and Superman are familiar with each other outside of Superhero work, or that Flash doesn’t like talking about his love life around Green Lantern because Hal has stolen his date more than once.

    Overall, this show is AWESOME.  I was debating on whether I wanted to continue this book after issues #7 and #8, but the Villain’s Journey arc (LOVE that name by the way) is proving to be a great read told in a fabulous manner.  As for the Shazam! back up story?  All I can say is that I still want to punch Billy Batson.  So very, very much.

    Oh! And the best part about Graves? How he got his powers was because he was a paranormal researcher and new all these ancient theories about places of supernatural power.  Which means in reality, he’s this guy:

    Vry’s Rating: 4 alien conspiracy theories out of 5.

    Teen Titans #10

    Okay. I’m curious as hell. Why is Superboy a separate book?  Seriously.  Out of ten issues, Superboy has crossed over in at least half of them.  DC, you need to just merge the Superboy book into Teen Titans or something because I’m getting annoyed having to shell out $6 a month instead of $3 to see one continuous plot.  You don’t make me read Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, The Flash and Aquaman’s separate series to keep up with the Justice League (Though I do hear some good things about the whole Court of Owls storyline.  I’ll probably grab it when it’s in trade.) why do I have to do it with Teen Titans?

    Okay, with that rant out of the way let’s talk about this comic.  It’s…  okay?  Really, it tries to continue with the nice quiet down time character moments that Superboy #10 had, but with quadruple the characters, meaning that the character moments come in short bursts.  It’s mostly Bunker that steals the show in this issue, get more panel time than anyone else.  He continues with his great humorous moments, and shows that he’s really being set up to be the heart of the team.  He gives Red Robin a verbal slap to the face and tells him to put his big boy britches on, his concern has always been on the well being of the team, and to boot he’s the only one to show any kind of religious preference (Which is interesting because he’s also gay.  Oh come on, you KNOW that’s going to come up eventually somewhere down the line.)

    This issue’s strengths is in the subtle touches.  Things like the moment after the event of Superboy #10 where Cassie and Tim give each other a palpably awkward hug or a single panel where you see Cassie’s armor growing and piercing her skin setting up the next storyline.  There’s also moments where the plot beats you with a blunt object, like Solstice and Kid Flash’s spontaneous romance.  Okay, granted, they started hinting at it back in issue #6 or something, but these two finally hook up and I must be honest I am confused as to how.  It’s almost like their entire romance happened between issues or off panel and now they’re smooching.  They’re a cute couple and all, but it just feels underdeveloped.

    Speaking of underdeveloped, the Teens are on the mysterious island of mystery still.  Wanna know what the mystery of the mysterious mystery island is?  Me too! Too bad the group just teleports out at the end of the issue with out a single answer being given as to why there’s a giant island full of dinosaurs that is apparently not only shaped like a question mark but also double sided.  Their easy escape comes in the form of the final sacrifice of Danny the Street.  If you’re unfamiliar with Danny the Street I’m not shocked.  While the ‘character’ has appeared several times in the Teen Titans series, he’s only been called by name maybe once or twice and he’s never properly explained.  I dunno if it’s in another book like Legion Lost or something, but I had to go to the internet to read an explanation about the teleporting kid who is in the form of living street complete with houses and what not.  Now he’s dead.  I’d call that a spoiler but the character had so little development it feels almost like saying that Jeff Smith died in the destruction caused by Godzilla in Godzilla 2000 is a spoiler.  Who is Jeff Smith? My point exactly.

    Overall, it’s a decent issue. There’s some fun bits, some bad bits, and no one really questions all the dinosaurs beyond “This place is weird.”

    Vry’s Rating: 3 speedster smooches out of 5.

  • Reassemble – Chapter One, Part Two

    My sincerest apologies about this post being a day late from its scheduled Saturday posting.  Time has a way of getting away from me and I had a lot of random stuff drop on my lap yesterday.  So here it is, part two of my short story…  (Sorry!)

    Vrykerion inked out a rough sketch of each piece that lay before him on the desk.  He drew lines and notes of how each one would potentially fit with others.  He didn’t need too.  He had done this many times before and would likely do it many times in the future.  He knew the design by heart but still went over it again and again.  It may have been in part to the time he spent studying and working with gnomish engineering.  Their desire to tinker and go over every detail hundreds of times to ensure that every bit was correct and in place.  But he knew that wasn’t about knowing how things went together, but understanding why.

    —

    “We’re proud of you, son.”  Kitarin Dawnshatter said, slapping Vrykerion on the back, “It might not be a Spell Breaker like your brother was, but being accepted into the Blood Knights is nothing to laugh at.”  Vrykerion just nodded a bit.

    Vrykerion was wearing his blood knights’ tabard, a depressing mix of black and red – a reminder of what his people had to endure in the wake of the Third War.  He was dressed in his best chain mail from the graduation ceremony with Lady Liadrin, though in all honesty he had worn it for someone else.

    “Just think! A few more years and you might be able to help pull this family out of Murder Row and back up into the Exchange! Or even the Court of the Suns!” Vrykerion’s father continued to prattle, causing Vrykerion to slightly roll his eyes. There was nothing like a reminder that his father’s crimes and the task of their family’s redemption was riding on his and his brother’s shoulders.

    “But I want you to have something, my boy.  Something your Uncle got back during the Second War. He originally gave it to Herio, but he didn’t really want it.  I think he thought it would tarnish his reputation with the other Spell Breakers after we joined the Horde. Not that he’ll need it now.” Kitarin dropped something into his son’s hands: a small gold pocket watch. “It’s a gnomish design, ya see.  Tried to pawn it over in the Bazaar but no one in this Nether blasted town is willing to take it with those knuckle dragging orcs’ banners flying everywhere now.”

    Vrykerion’s armored fingers traced over the designs on the back of the watch. “Gnomish,” he muttered for a moment before looking up, “You shouldn’t speak of the other races like that.”

    “Those brutes killed your brother, you cowardly green skin boot licker!” Kitarin shouted throwing a bottle of wine at Vyrkerion and missing him, turning his back dismissively at Vrykerion and walked back to his hookah, “Don’t you have some rich noble whore to go visit or something, boy?”

    “Yea.  Calowen is waiting for me at the celebration.  Tell Mother that I left her a gift when she gets home from work, will you?  Please don’t sell it this time.” His father puffed on the tube, inhaling the thick fumes of bloodthistle, and waved his hand, dismissing Vrykerion without a word.  Vrykerion sighed and left into the streets of Murder Row and up towards the Court of the Sun.

    As he turned the corner into the fountain square, he was met with a pair of arms wrapping themselves around his neck.  Vrykerion panicked for a second, his instincts from his years living in the shadiest neighborhood in the city kicking in.  But his nerves eased when a familiar and curvaceous body followed the arms and pressed up against him in a hug, “Congratulations!”

    He wrapped his arm around Calowen, “You too.  Excited for our deployment tomorrow?”

    Calowen nodded, nuzzling her head in the crux of Vrykerion’s neck, “A bit nervous too.”

    “You’ll do fine.  If you can drag me to graduation, I’m sure you could take on the entirety of the Scourge all by your lonesome.”

    Calowen chuckled softly, never lifting her head, “I can see my extra lessons in ‘sense of humor’ have served you well.”

    Vrykerion smiled.  It was one of many ‘extra lessons’ he had enjoyed with Calowen during their time training to be paladins, “Are you ready for the celebration?”

    This time she shook her head and her soft voice got quiet, “I actually thought we could go somewhere else.”

    Vrykerion raised an eyebrow.  Did she really mean? His answer came quick in the form of her lips pressing deeply into his, her soft warm skin contrasting the cool metal of his armor.  And as the night went on the cold feeling of armor vanished piece by piece, and the warmth spread more and more.

    —

    Vrykerion’s hand trembled slightly as he drew a small 14 toothed cog.  He stopped and set the parchment down.  He allowed himself a moment of reprieve to glance out the window and to let the blood drain from his flushed face.  Blue Child hung low in the night sky.  For a brief moment he wondered where the sun had gotten off to.  The process of rebuilding was long and sometimes very hard on him.  Still, he knew that he had to continue.  He had to press on or else finishing and thus understanding, would never come.  He would simply run away again.  So Vrykerion sat back down and took his quill in hand once more.

  • Reassemble – Chapter One, Part One

    So a while back I wrote a story about my World of Warcraft character, Vrykerion the Paladin.  It was mostly based around my guild’s storyline and my own absence for it while I have been playing Star Wars The Old Republic.  However, I really really liked how it turned out so I decided to share it on here too.  Sadly, the actual story is about 18 pages and that’s just for the first of two planned chapters. Since that is a lot to put into a single post, I decided to serialize it and break it up into little chunks.  One coming out each Saturday until it’s complete.  This here is part one.

    You’ll probably need a little bit of background on this story to give it context, although most of it should make sense in the long run since after all it’s more about the character’s past than the actual guild story.  But to shine a little light, my guild recently began a story where our guild leader, Shahrak, declared his intent for the guild to move to usurp Warchief Garrosh Hellscream. (This storyline was proposed the day before the news broke that Garrosh would be a raid boss in Mists of Pandaria – yea, imagine our surprise.) Vrykerion, being a devout member of the Argent Crusade, declared that while he took no qualms about battling evil, politics were a different matter, and this course of action violated what he viewed to be his strictly neutral stance on the Horde and Alliance.  With that said, Vrykerion declared that he would not partake in this campaign and retired to Hearthglen.  So we begin…

    Reassemble – Chapter 1: Design

    Part One

    Vrykerion spread a clean piece of cloth across the desk of his room at Hearthglen.  It wasn’t an impressive room by any measure, and it wasn’t meant to be.  It was a practical room, just as much in his life was.  It had a bed to sleep in, a desk to work at, and a small armoire to store whatever bits of clothing he had at the time.  He didn’t need it to be much more than that, as his travels rarely permitted him time to stay at the Argent Crusade’s reclaimed home in the Plaguelands.  He only came here to do two things: Report when summoned, and to think.

    Shahrak was absolutely clear in his intent.  Open war against the Warchief.  Open war against the Horde itself was more like it.  The scowl on Vrykerion’s face intensified as he opened up a small brown linen drawstring bag and poured the contents out on the cloth covered desk.  Small gears and parts rained down creating a resounding cacophony of noise in the otherwise silent room.  The idea seemed ludicrous.  Kill the Warchief?  Then what? They had no one to replace him.  Worry about the details later?  The very concept was so full of holes and overflowed with emotional impulse.

    Vrykerion spread the pieces out across the cloth, making sure that each stood alone and untouched by its siblings surrounding it.  He parsed them out by shape, size, color – anything he could easily differentiate the multitude of small parts with.  Emotion.  Maybe that was what caused him such anguish.  Shahrak’s speech had been so full of it.  That timeless, unyielding enemy of logic and neutrality.  Vrykerion had spent years tinkering and wiring himself to respond to every encounter, and every battle with a cool calm sense of impartiality. He knew what Garrosh had done.  He had lent his blade when called upon.  He knew of the ruthless ways of the new warchief.  But he also knew that this was not a matter for him to pass judgment on.  The actions of man or orc are subject to perspective.  Viewpoints can inform and lie.  These mortal sins cannot be not true evil.  Right?

    Vrykerion sighed to himself, lowered his goggles over his eyes and put ink to parchment as he overlooked the presentation of small mechanical pieces laid out before him. “To understand the design, one must recognize each component as a necessary part of the whole,” he muttered to himself, reciting old lessons.  He began to sketch each piece on the table, remembering each one once again.

    —

    It was only a few short years ago, but it felt like another lifetime.  Vrykerion stood on the green grasses of Sunstrider Isle along with a dozen other potentials.  His hair was longer then, worn back in a tail.  His eyes still bright and glowing, hidden behind a shabby pair of flying tiger goggles, and a smile graced his lips as he took his place in the line to practice the day’s lesson.  “Judgment.  A paladin is capable of piercing the very soul of a foe and detecting their intent. Violence, injustice, hate – these are raw powerful urges that you can focus his righteous wrath on and pierce your foes with judgment.”  The instructor called out.  He was a broad-shouldered elf who stood tall, a large scar on his cheek that he supposedly earned battling the forces of the traitor Kael’thas for control of the Sunwell.  Vrykerion didn’t really care about the old war stories.  He just wanted to show his stuff.  He had spent weeks studying tomes and scrolls about the art of judging one’s opponent and he was ready to prove that he had what it takes.

    One by one the paladin trainees walked up and tried their hand at it.  Some actually managed to forge the connection with the Light to call upon the attack to some extent and successfully managed to brush the target dummy with a flash of holy energy.  Soon it came to be Vrykerion’s turn.  He stepped up and began to mutter the steps he had learned under his breath. “Create a connection with the divine light and let it fill your mind with extra-sensory sight.” He felt his body become almost lighter as a powerful warmth spread through his body.  It was almost like slipping into a warm bath.  He stared at the dummy long and hard, forcing his mind to focus on it until it almost seems to emit a faint yellow aura.

    ‘Non-threatening,’ Vrykerion thought, ‘Of course it is. It’s made of straw.’  Now he began to realize the true point of this lesson – to force the connection with the Light when wanted, not simply when it was needed.  He muttered again, “Focus your wrath on the negative. Cast out the divine on the target you know is guilty.”

    He felt the light begin to swirl in his palm and grow in strength.  Vrykerion gritted his teeth as he focused on the dummy harder, “Cast out the divine…”  He raised his hand toward the dummy, “On the target.”  Then suddenly he heard something.  It was a small stifled giggle from behind him. He turned his head slightly to see a girl, a little younger than himself, with short platinum hair and shining emerald eyes looking at him.  It was Calowen Brightbourne, one of the daughters of some noble in the Court of the Sun. Her hands covered her mouth to hide her smile and the faint pink growing on her cheeks.

    “VRYKERION!” the instructor’s voice broke through the moment and tore into his concentration.  The light fizzled from his hand as Vrykerion as his head snapped back towards the dummy and a very irritated veteran, “I suggest you try to get the Light in you up as apart to other parts of you while  you are in my class.” A frustrated blush overwhelmed Vrykerion’s face as he stumbled back and releasing an audible growl.  He stormed off as his classmates’ silent impatience for their turns broke in roaring laughter.  Vrykerion clenched his fist to the point where his fingernails began to break skin.  He glanced back, wishing only to release his rage as a divine blast against his classmates.  But he only saw Calowen in the lineup of chortling adolescents with only a frown on her face.  His hand relaxed just a bit.

    He spent the rest of that afternoon sitting under a tree in the shadow of the academy.  He had failed.  That much was certain.  His actions and subsequent departure ensured that it would take double the effort and no less than three times the studying to find his way back into the good graces of his teachers, let alone the respect of his peers.

    He stood up and looked around.  Spying a small squirrel nearby he began to repeat the steps again.  He felt the warmth of the Light fill him.  He focused on the small animal.  Then nothing.  Try as he might he could now let the Light flow from him into his hands.  He repeated the steps several more times with less and less success each time. He released a frustrated grunt as he slammed his fist into the tree.

    “You know, just maybe the Light doesn’t WANT to be used against small defenseless critters.”

    Vrykerion perked up at the voice and spun around.  It was Calowen, the girl that giggled.  She had changed out her training mail and into a red short sleeved shirt with a gold-trimmed leather vest.  Her smile, now unhidden, seems almost to glow as he felt a different warmth fill him.  First in his chest, then his face.  His brain, now tasked with figuring out two things, was able to quickly decipher that he was blushing.  A lot.  The second thing – what to say – was out to committee.

    “I’m sorry about earlier.  The laughing I mean.  I just have never seen someone repeat their lessons out loud to themselves like that,” she said, stepping closer.

    “You… you heard that?” Vrykerion shuffled his feet, attempting to figure if he should approach her as well, or perhaps lean back on the tree to impress her.

    Her smile grew, almost as she was about to laugh again.  Not that he would be opposed.  Her laugh was like the graceful melody of a harp when contrasted with the bombastic hyena like noises of their classmates, “Mm hmm.  And I think I know what your problem is.”

    She stepped right up to him, their toes almost touching.  She gently leaned up, inching her face closer to his.  Vrykerion had long passed the moment where he was trying to decide what to say or what to do with his feet.  His mind frantically raced trying to figure out what he should do NOW, let alone next.  This kind of thing was supposed to happen to his older brother – not him.

    As her face drew close enough to feel his quickening breath, her hand made an attack of opportunity and poked him in the forehead, “You’re using this too much.” She immediately withdrew back on to her heels, trying her best to not to burst out in laughter right in front of him. Her stifled squeals went quickly from being beautiful notes to razor sharp pin pricks as Vrykerion realized that it was an attempt at jest, not a romantic proposition.  Though he would have been lying if he said it didn’t take a huge weight of pressure off his chest as his brain was able to slow and start taking inventory.

    “I’m using what too much?” He finally spat out.

    “Your brain.  You’re thinking about it too much.” She said.

    “What do you propose I use to think?” The idea seemed silly to him.  Not use his brain?  That was its purpose.

    “Well…” She looked around for a quick moment, “I can think of a few other things you can use.  But for now let’s start with your heart.  Come with me.” She grabbed his hand and began dragging him back across the isle.

    He stumbled behind, trying to keep his feet coordinated in an effort to keep up with both her and his hand. She stopped as soon they reached the target range, “Now. Try it again.  But this time, don’t THINK the target is an enemy.  FEEL it.”

    “Why?  What does emotion have anything to do with this?  The Light is my tool.  I should wield it like I do my micro-adjuster or my arclight spanner in my workshop,” Vrykerion said, trying to wrap his brain around the concept like a cat trying to make sense of arcane leylines.

    “I bet your spanner gets lonely with you treating it like that,” Calowen said, “Think about it this way.  You know how sometimes you want to tighten a screw but not all the way?  Do you measure the torque of your turn or do you just FEEL how tight it is and SENSE when it’s good?”

    Vrykerion opened his mouth to counter her argument, but then he saw those bright emerald eyes and closed it and nibbled on his lower lip for a moment.  He let out a deep breath and turned to face the dummy again.  This time he stopped thinking about what the target is.  He just let his mind flow.  His eyes trained on the stuffed man as a stray thought hit him.  It wanted to hurt Calowen.  He didn’t know where it came from, and it clearly made no sense, but there it was.  Suddenly his palm swelled with holy energy.

    Calowen slid her hands down his arm and lifted it so the palm pointed towards the dummy and whispered to him, “Now let it go.”

    The holy energy of the Light was unleashed.  A blast more powerful than he could have ever imagined formed into the shape of a hammer and slammed in the straw figure, ripping its post from the earth and falling back to the ground. Calowen smiled again and looked at him, her hands never leaving his arm, “See what I mean?”

    Vrykerion looked at her and felt his lips curl into a smile of their own, “I see.”  His eyes glanced down at her hands on his arm, “I see.”

    To Be Continued…

  • Comic Corner: Ravagers #2 & Superboy #10

    Since I am a self-proclaimed UberGeek (No, it’s not prestige thing. It’s just a term I came up with to explain that if it’s something geeky, chances are I have an interest in it. Compare to folks who are just Star Wars Geeks, Anime Geeks, Gamer Geeks, etc), I figured it would be worthwhile to talk about my love of comics now and then on the Land of Odd.  So I’ve started a new ‘Comics’ category to talk about the latest issues, what I like and what I don’t like and whatever weird theories or rants I may want to talk about.

    Recently, I’ve mostly been diving into the DC Comics’ New 52. Not that I won’t EVER talk about Marvel comics on here, but I don’t follow them nearly as close as I do DC.  Maybe I’ll talk about why on here someday.  (FYI, if you would like to contribute some Marvel comics write ups as a guest writer or something, feel free to contact me!)

    Well this week brought new issues for two titles on my reading list.  Let’s share, shall we?

    Ravagers #2

    Ravagers #2. Cover by Ian Churchill & Norm Rapmund

    So we finally got the second issue of Ravagers yesterday.  I wish I could say that with more glee in my voice, but that would be unfair to you and downright lying for me.  Based on a rumor that I heard that an old Teen Titans character, Raven, would possibly be appearing in the DC Comics’ New 52 around issue #5 of Ravagers, I decided I’d stick with it for a few months and see how it pans out. Two issues in and I’m already starting to doubt that decision.

    The situation is admittedly interesting in that you have a bunch of teenagers that have been emotionally and physically abused in a giant death match to turn them into killers and are now on the run to save their lives.  There is potential there.  There’s some flashes of the Bourne series mixed with Battle Royale.   Sadly, so far most of the comic plays out like this:

    “We were trained to be killers so we do not trust anyone!”
    “But we need to work together!”
    “But we do not trust you. So we are going to seperate and go different directions and slowly get picked off by the bad guys before we can even establish our names.”
    “Rawr!”
    “Rawr!”

    I mean the biggest potential in this comic is the characters and after two issues I only know half their names and that two of them are related.  That’s it.  Personality? Thrown aside for action sequences and shouting about not trusting each other.  One character – Ridge – who is a former member of the actual Ravagers (who are bad guys hunting the main characters. Kind of a confusing title at the moment.) HAD a cockney accent but then seems to have lost it somewhere.  Oh and Caitlin Fairchild is in it and she may or may not be a lesbian.  The subtext with Rose is quite unclear on whether they were friends or lovers in the past.

    Compare this with the New 52’s Teen Titans which I am LOVING.  The characters were introduced pretty quickly over the first 5 or so issues, but they are written in a way that you pretty much get a grasp on their personalities in just a few pages.  Here? Nothing. Zilch. Other than they don’t trust each other and they’re angry.  That’s about it.

    The villains are not much better.  While Rose Wilson is relatively established along with Caitlin from their time in the Superboy series, the rest of the villains are names and flashy costumes.  Their motivation? Their boss told them to.  Their bosses motivation?  No clue. Still a mystery after the Culling crossover.

    The road to Ravagers #5 is going to a long and bumpy one.  Pray for me.

    Vry’s Rating: 2 exploding collars out of 5.

    Superboy #10

    Superboy #10. Cover by Scott Clark.

    If Ravagers is a bunch of sound and noise signifying no character whatsoever, this month’s Superboy is pretty much its polar opposite.

    Following the events of the Culling, the Teen Titans and Superboy ended up on Mystery Island.  Yes, that is its actual name.  It’s a giant island shaped like a question mark.  It’s extremely ridiculous and I LOVE it.  This issue however starts with Superboy and Cassie Sandsmark (Don’t call her Wondergirl)  seperated from the rest of the team.

    While there is a comedic little fight with a T-Rex (Yes, there are dinosaurs on Mystery Island), the majority of this issue is just Cassie and Kon-El talking and getting to know each other.  It’s a nice quiet issue with a lot of character development that I’ve wanted since Superboy and Teen Titans started.

    I want to say it’s mainly due to the big Culling crossover last month, but Teen Titans 1-8 felt really rushed, jumping from event to event to get the groundwork for the crossover laid out (And yes, STILL had better character development than Ravagers).  Superboy on the other hand felt extremely padded and stretched out, possibly because it DIDN’T need 8 issues to set up for the crossover so it just had to kill time until issue 9.

    This issue however was great. It had comedy, character, a bit of action, some nice art from Iban Coello which I prefer to RB Silva’s sometimes downright cartoonish faces or worse the blank faces with little lines or dots to indicate where the eyes and mouth are.

    There’s even some romantic tension between the two since we have previously established that they do in fact find each other attractive, but well… I won’t spoil it for you but it gave me a chuckle.  I’ll say this much: Wondergirl? Total tsundere.

    Finally, there is a really nice touch in this issue.  In the midst of the controversy about the over sexualized and downright spine breaking poses that characters like Catwoman have been put into in the New 52, it was REALLY nice to see a scene where Cassie is starting to undress to take a bath in a lake and it ISN’T ridiculously sexualized.  She’s just standing there with her shirt slipped off and covering her torso.  No chiropractor needed.  No butt shots or perfectly positioned foliage to block naughty bits.  I’d say it’s probably because she’s only seventeen, but I think DC and Marvel have both shown in the past that they have no problem ‘going there’ with not quite legal teens in the past.  It was just a small note that I was expecting something ridiculous and got something quite tasteful.  Kudos to DC for once.

    Vry’s Rating: 4 unconscious dinos out of 5.