Wednesday, August 31, 2011

28: Gossip (fanfiction)

Nobody Important
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Gossip
In which not much happens.
By: N3k0

"What was that about?" Ariel raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking toward the tent flap.
Martin sighed, disgusted with himself. And for what? He hadn't actually done anything wrong. "Nothing."
"I see. It looked like something, to me." She folded her arms, watching him with a level expression. There was ice in her pale blue eyes. "Tell me about it."
The Nord pushed open the tent flap. He was a towering bear of a man, and he had to duck to fit inside the tent that fit its other occupants more easily. "The vampire is leaving the camp." He fell silent again after making the report, somehow making the half-hunched pose look almost dignified.
Ariel glanced back at the Nord. "Ah." Her eyes returned to Martin, and she waited for him to speak.

She knew she was being followed. It had started sometime after midnight, she thought. Worse, the person - or people - trailing her made better time than she was. They kept out of sight, but every so often the wind would shift, and she'd catch a sound or a scent to let her know they were still there, just around the bend.
There wasn't really much she could do about it though - placing one foot in front of the next took all of her strength, and she saw gray, flickering shadows at the edges of her vision almost constantly. Despite that, the roads were empty, save herself and her tail. Just before sunrise, she found herself at a little inn. Anvil stood proudly, just down the road, but she couldn't make it if she tried. She felt like she had lead in her bones, weighing her down. Every movement was sluggish, and she rested her forehead on the door briefly, before opening it.
The door creaked loudly, and her ears pinned back.
"Oh, hello!" A woman in a blue velvet dress walked up to her, smiling a predator's smile. Lyssi matched in kind, waiting for her eyes to fully adjust. "Are you a, ah ..." The woman caught sight of her bare toes. Even her feet had been more-or-less covered in bandages, though they were a bit dirtier than they'd started out, now. Her gaze skimmed up Lyssi's form, apparently trying to read her. For her part, Lyssi closed the door and leaned back against it, watching for any wrong move from the too-friendly stranger. "Hm. Are you a traveling merchant, perhaps?" The woman seemed like she didn't believe that possibility, though her eyes lingered on Lyssi's heavy-looking backpack. Lyssi glanced down at the thing, herself. Once inside, she'd dropped it to the floor.
She nodded anyway, despite herself. A traveling merchant, maybe one that fell on hard times, that would be a passable cover, anyway. "Oh, you are?" The woman's eyes lit up, and suddenly the lie seemed ill-advised. Lyssi would need to watch this woman. "Aren't you worried, what with all of the attacks?"
Attacks? Lyssi raised an eyebrow. "You haven't heard? There's a killer on the loose, one who targets helpless merchants traveling the road to Kvatch. I would be ever so afraid, were I you."
Oh yes. The woman had heard it.
Lyssi tried to think of a way to express her need for a bed - preferably in a room with a strong lock, maybe a dresser she could use as a barricade - without using language. The woman continued speaking, oblivious. Apparently she didn't really need any input from her prey. "If you really want to stay here, you can talk to the publican, he's sleeping downstairs yet. Be careful now!"
She took the woman's appearance in, so if she happened to come across her in the road, she'd be able to steer well clear. A bad liar, this woman was blonde, and much taller than Lyssi was - probably an Altmer, given the ears. If she was an Altmer, then she'd be magically inclined. The woman didn't have the muscles or calluses from weapons-work to be anything else, and the high elves did, as a rule, prefer magic, didn't they?
In order to purchase a room, Lyssi first had to wake up the publican, which involved poking him in the side a bit. Then she had to get him to understand what she wanted, which involved a small game of charades and an exchange of coin that took more time than she wanted it to. Especially since she had to point out that she was literally incapable of speech ... though she left the exact reason out, not that he'd be able to guess unless she outright showed him the injuries.
By the time she was done getting the room, she was wrung out and exhausted. She closed the door, setting her pack down beside it, and slid down to slump against the solid wood. The last dregs of her energy went to finding a potion in her packs, pulling the cork out with her teeth, and drinking it. Setting the vial aside, her eyes slid closed. Probably, she should have stayed back at the camp.
A flash of pain, white-hot and searing, through her chest.
It was a stirring, half-waking, half-sleeping. She bit into a delicious chunk of meat, stolen from a nobles' feast, but the insides were crawling with maggots. The maggots crawled into her mouth, and ate her way out of her stomach.
A flash of pain.
She held a single septim in her hands, her last coin. As she watched, it turned to ash. Her hands hurt, throbbing and sore, until her fingers began to rot away.
A flash.
Digging, clawing her way up through a grave, the coffin collapsed in under the weight of soil. She inhaled dirt, coughed and choked, her chest heaving with gargantuan effort. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe - she forgot she didn't need to, thrashing wildly at earth that may as well have been stone for all she could move it.
Lyssi woke, dotted with sweat, some time later. Her eyes fluttered open, and she felt herself struggling, once again, to try and breathe. She'd kept herself in the habit, so if she needed to, she could talk. Now, the effort made her entire chest throb with pain. She hadn't slept very long, but no one had entered her room, for once. She let herself drift, eavesdropping on the conversations downstairs.
She could distantly hear voices. A male voice, familiar, chatted softly with a female - the woman in blue velvet. The woman laughed at something or other, and it sounded polite rather than amused.
That woman would be a problem. Lyssi would eat someone's boot - since she didn't currently have any of her own - if that woman was genuinely concerned for her well-being. That meant she was probably the attacker, which meant that Lyssi would have to deal with the mage one way or the other, preferably before she headed to Anvil. Her ideas basically boiled down to 'wait for the mage to sleep, then drain her.' She'd probably leave the woman alive - did she still have any disease-curing salves? She didn't want to create a vampire mage ... it might be safer to just kill the woman.
She didn't have any particular qualms about doing so, but ... some part of her wanted to prove she wasn't really a monster anymore. That she could be a good person, now.
Of course, she had no idea what a 'good' person acted like. That was a bit of a problem, but she was fairly sure good people didn't kill others just because they were inconvenient. Maybe just a sleeping drug? She was hungry, ravenous even, that was part of the problem.
"... hear about Cheydinhal?" Lyssi's ears perked up a bit at the mention of her home. Sithis save her ...
A male's response, too soft to hear.
The woman continued. Her voice carried well, piercing the thin wood walls easily. "I heard that an entire clan of vampires stormed the city. They killed several guards and a few civilians, and then they got away. Nobody has seen them since, but everyone is on alert for suspicious, nighttime activity. They've even called on professional vampire hunters. Did you ever hear of such a thing?"
The man said something else, but Lyssi still couldn't quite make it out, nor did she care to.
She wouldn't be able to sleep now. What would happen if she was caught by vampire hunters in her sorry state? She felt drawn and tired.
Part of her wondered, dully, what it would be like to die, as she let her eyes drift closed.
The next pair of voices were much closer, tugging her awake before she'd properly fallen asleep.
"Roth, you didn't." The woman sounded genuinely worried, and there was a rustle of chain armor, a thump. Then, a sloshing, liquid noise. The woman heaved a heavy sigh. "That girl isn't one of your strays, you have to know that. She'll savage you, just like the wolf did that one time, just like the falcon did."
The man's rumble didn't seem terribly concerned. "You cannot blame an animal for its nature."
"You nearly lost your eye!" There was a pause, and vague sounds Lyssi couldn't quite make out. "All right, all right. I can accept the animals. And you did take care of the housecat, even if it turned out to be a Khajiit in disguise, whatever! The puppies all found decent homes. But this girl had a choice. She - it - chose to be a killer. It chose to be a monster."
Lyssi liked animals, too. The Nord rose even higher in her estimation. She'd never been able to keep a pet, but she wanted to. Maybe after this last job.
"Did she have a choice?" Roth's voice held a challenging tone. She didn't really understand why he was defending her, though she appreciated it. It was futile, of course. Ariel was right, and more importantly, she believed she was right. "Do you know her so well?"
There was a long silence. Lyssi found herself drifting off, before the woman's quiet, almost haunted voice brought her back.

"You know what her kind did to my family. You - you've seen my scars."
Suddenly, Lyssi didn't want to hear any more.
"That girl has scars of her own."
Another silence, though not as long.

"I don't trust her."

The man sighed. "I never said you should."

"I'll take first watch. That potion should return some of your strength, but try to get some rest, all right?" The sound of a door opening, then closing again.

The man's voice rumbled through the wall. "Good night, little one."
Had he known she could hear them?

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Oh Jeez it's Tuesday Already?

Sorry for the delay (honestly it's becoming more the standard route than Mondays, innit?). Monday was ... well, I went to bed at 5:30 AM after working on a problem with my Minecraft server all night. Turns out you have to set up build permissions for the Nether specifically even if you have global permissions set all over the place. ._.

If I'd thought about that before 5:30 AM I wouldn't have stayed up that late.

Also blast mining with /fireball is amusing.

So ... hm.

The Nether, why not.

Let's review: Minecraft is a world where there are less than a thousand people or so left alive on the entire planet (which has about eight times the surface area of earth, and gets really weird toward the very edges). That's on the massive servers. In single player, or on smaller servers (like mine, my internet connection can't handle more than like five people), you're looking at less than an average nuclear family remaining ... or even just one dude.

The other humans? Appear to have died and become zombies or skeletons, which coincidentally happen to combust on contact with sunlight.

The only animals to speak of that have remained are pigs, chickens, cows, wolves, and sheep.

There is a creature here that hunts humans, wandering the world endlessly with one goal in mind: to explode, thereby to destroy the last survivor.

This is a world of perpetual fear and suffering, and the main character seems to have survived specifically because he cannot permanently die.

So now picture that world's hell.

Here the stone itself is twisted and brittle, cracking easily under minimal pressure. It burns fantastically, and never quits burning. The sand drags at anyone who sets foot upon it, trying to hold them in place, and lava replaces water. The only lighting comes from an eerily-glowing rock that clings to the ceiling in stalactites ... and the aforementioned lava, spread in massive oceans as far as the eye can see.

There is no day, and there is no night. It is a place outside of time.

There are only two types living things that have survived this place ... for some definition of survival.

The most common creatures one will encounter are the zombie pigmen - tribes of them wander the broken landscape, and though they will watch a human warily, they will not attack you if you do not attack them. If you do foolishly attack a pigman, the rest of his tribe will rip your body to worthless shreds - they hunt in packs and will rarely, if ever, stop attacking.

These are the friendliest creatures the player ever encounters, apart from wolves.

They are also the only source of sustenance naturally found in the Nether - if one of them should die, it is possible to scavenge cooked porkchops from the corpse. Given the most probable cause of death (the player kills them), it will be necessary to eat the meat.

The other kind of creature is an unavoidable monstrosity. It is a massive thing, a floating, white spirit that wanders the Nether aimlessly. Its face is twisted into a pained expression at all times. It never chases the player, exactly ... it just floats, roaming without end. In this place there are waterfalls created from flowing magma, and it bathes in those without being harmed.

Should the player get too close to the Ghast, it will briefly open its eyes to stare at the intruding human. Then, it will loose a blast of flame that explodes on contact, destroying the fragile stone where it hits and sometimes igniting it.

The Ghast cries like a damned child, and there are more than one. Anywhere there is room for a ghast, a new one will eventually spawn.

All in all, the Nether successfully conveys the idea of a hell world, even by Minecraft standards.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

10 Things I've Learned From Playing Minecraft

1. The magma is not a toy.

2. That fear of the dark is actually very well-founded.

3. If you start drowning, it's very likely you will die.

4. That arachnophobia is also actually very well-founded.

5. When building a house, one should always use blast-proof materials and never, ever build on sand.

6. If you begin to suffocate, it is very likely you will die.

7. Fireballs hurt.

8. Explosions hurt.

     8b. Blast mining is surprisingly effective, but does destroy more than it reveals.

9. Lava-falls, while fascinating to watch, are not a very safe decorative piece.

10. Mining near someone else is a good way to accidentally pick-axe them in the face.

     10b. Or get pick-axed yourself.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Nobody Important, Ch. 26

Nobody Important 

In which a one-sided conversation is held.

By: N3k0

Tug, yank, snip.

There a pulling, dragging sensation slowly piecing her back together. Her chest was already a line of fine stitches that made her itch. That was what drug her back to consciousness when she was actually enjoying a dreamless sleep.

She still couldn't breathe.

Tug, yank, snip.

"You're lucky, you know that, right? Incredibly lucky." It was the woman's voice, the one who wanted her dead. Ariel.

Tug, yank, snip.

She didn't seem to want a response, which was good, since Lyssi couldn't exactly form one. "That boy says that your ribs are mending. He put a slow healing on you, he says, one that should fix the broken bones in time. Your heart is whole. He doesn't have a spell to fill your lungs with air, but he seems to be planning something."

Tug, yank, snip.

"He thinks you're some kind of research project. He doesn't see what I see."

Tug, yank, snip.

The line of stitches seemed near the top of the injury. Maybe the woman would leave her alone then. She had to try to get up today. She'd wasted enough time in this town.

Tug, yank, snip.

The woman fell silent for a long minute. Lyssi thought maybe she'd run out of things to say. She hadn't. "You're a monster. For all we know, you were working with the Daedra. It isn't like we can ask you, now is it? How convenient. I could kill you, you know."

Tug, yank, snip.

"It's not like anyone really expects you to survive this, after all." If she was going to do it, she should just do it already. Her right hand flexed, clenching and unclenching. The woman noticed it. "Awake, are you? Good. Can you speak?"

Tug. Yank. Snip. The woman took her silence as a no. "What a pity. Well, I'm done here. Can you sit up on your own?"

She tried. Her left arm still wasn't quite responding, but she pushed up with her right arm. She found herself back on the ground before she managed to get properly off of it. The woman helped her to sit upright. She felt all of her skin tugging at the stitches, but the thread - and her skin - held. "Good enough. Now, I need to ask you some questions." The woman began wrapping a thin roll of soft cloth around her chest. "Just nod or shake your head."

She was dizzy, and she didn't really want to answer the woman's questions. But she didn't think she really had a choice, so she bobbed her head once, dully.

"Were you working with the Daedra?" Lyssi scowled. Oh yes, because any answer she gave to that question could be believed. Still, she shook her head. "I see. You are aware we've gone through your things?" She nodded, dully. Mraaj'Dar's ghost was probably laughing at her. "I need to know that you will not harm Martin." She turned her head enough that she could try and glance back at the woman. "You understand. If we are to believe the contents of those notes, you are a rather accomplished murderer. Some kind of assurance ... are you able to write?"

Another sullen bob of her head.

"Then we will need to set you up with the tools to do so. I cannot allow a potential threat to go unaddressed." Ariel tied off the bandage expertly. "You understand, I'm sure." Her voice had iron in it.

Lyssi nodded.

Of course she understood.

"I don't like this, Ariel." Martin's voice sounded from outside the tent. Someone had changed Lyssi's bedroll out for one that wasn't covered entirely in blood. She supposed she probably should care about people getting infected, but it wasn't her job to worry about that, was it?

Not really. Martin would take care of that. If he didn't, Ariel would. Right? She was laying in the comfortable blankets, drifting. She hadn't managed to fall asleep again, but she'd had time to think. She hadn't really used that time, but that was mostly because she couldn't force herself to focus on anything. It was peaceful. If she tried to think, she'd think about how she was letting Lucien down. How she'd failed the ghosts of her Family. No, it was much better to let her mind drift. Some of the red had started to clear out of her vision.

She heard the woman - Ariel - heave a rather annoyed sigh. "We need to know the girl won't be a threat."

"You know as well as anyone that she can't be disturbed like this if we want her to recover." There was the rustle of the tent flap.

She noticed that the woman's voice seemed to go a bit shrill whens he was angry. That was funny. She'd laugh, if she could. But she couldn't. "Do we want it to recover?"

The tent rustled and closed itself again. A man's strong hands gently brought her to sitting. She let her eyes open, and she saw the Nord's face. The arguing pair were still outside. She sat like a marionette with its strings cut, slumped half-over. It tugged and pulled at the stitches in her back, but she couldn't afford any strength. "Here, drink." The man placed something warm in front of her mouth, and she bit before she knew what she was doing. His hand. He made a quiet noise of pain, but otherwise didn't comment. She suckled on his skin, feeling a bit confused.

"You'll need your strength. Easy now." He pulled on his hand, and she let go after a moment. "Good girl."

The tent flap opened again, and her eyes fixed on the man and the woman entering. The woman placed a small board across her lap, and she shifted slightly. Ariel placed some paper, an inkwell, and a quill on the board. Lyssi looked down at it.

The woman offered a thin smile. But it was a smile, wasn't that a good thing?

No, not this smile.

"I need your name." Lyssi glanced over at Martin, who stood by the tent flap, arms folded.
She scratched it in, using lettering as precise as she could make it, given her shaking hands.  


The woman made a noise. "No last name, then?"

She shook her head. She didn't really need one, did she?

"All right. The letters that you carry, those belong to you?" She nodded. "And you understand the implications?"

Why not just ask.

The woman glanced down at the paper, when Lyssi turned it for her to read it easier. "Ask ... ah. Well then. Are you an assassin?"

She nodded once. There wasn't really any point in lying. The woman took a sharp inhale.
"You understand that involvement in such matters is a crime, of course." Another nod. "How many ... no."

Lyssi took a mental tally, then wrote the number on the paper. 64. The woman looked queasy. It had increased some from her last count. She frowned slightly, tracing a nonsensical design on the side of the board with a fingertip.

"... thanks, I think. Do you ... I ... do you have any plans to harm Martin Septim?" Ariel glanced back at the heir. Lyssi's eyes followed. She locked her gaze on the man, rather than the woman, shaking her head slowly. The man seemed relieved. The woman didn't catch the movement.

Lyssi sighed inwardly - of course she couldn't form the sound - and scratched down her reply on the paper. I have no orders to.

The woman read it, a small frown on her lips. "What are your orders, then? Your current orders, mind." She gnawed her lip, debating on how much to tell. "Don't lie to me. I can see you thinking about it, you know." Lyssi scowled again.

Go to Anvil. Investigate. Not kill anyone.

She didn't add the 'yet' on the end. That much was already obvious, she figured.

"... Ah, I see. And retrieve the ..." She fished out one of the letters. "Reward, and next contract, there?"

Lyssi considered slightly. Something like that.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "But not exactly like that, then?"

A slight smile crossed her lips. No, it isn't.

"... I see."

The woman fell silent for a moment, seeming to understand that was all the more Lyssi was going to tell her about it. It wasn't a comfortable silence. They were both waiting for something, that was what it felt like. Lyssi shifted a bit in place, dipping her quill into the inkwell. There was too much ink, so she tried scraping the tip off on the edge. She was fidgeting, wasting time. I have to go.

"We're supposed to allow you to just leave, then? So you can kill again? It's illegal, what you do." The woman acted like she didn't know that, wasn't aware of it.

I'm not really giving you a choice.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011


Minecraft, Minecraft, Minecraft, Minecraft, Minecraft.

It's honestly less like a lifetime supply of crack, and more like a lifetime supply of all the resources you need to make your own.

So, I imagine most people have already been at least a little bit exposed to it, but for those people who haven't, it's a little block-based video game. You collect blocks, so you can use blocks to build blocky houses, so you can survive the night. Also monsters come out when it gets dark. You can use the basic blocks you collect to make better blocks, and tools, and weapons.

That's honestly pretty much it.

Like most things that shouldn't be quite so amazingly addictive, it is. Incredibly, incredibly addictive.

You wouldn't expect a game like this to be scary, either, but it is. The first night, especially, and I think I've figured out why. Most 'horror' games anymore, you get a bazooka, a flamethrower, and a shotgun by the final act, and that's enough if you're careful with your bullets.

In Minecraft, even the very best weapon in the game is a melee weapon, so you spend the whole game hugging your torches and dropping more torches everywhere, because it becomes less a war on monsters, and more a war on darkness.

And the darkness is everywhere. The darkness hates you. The darkness wants your blood. You cannot save yourself from the darkness, you can only push it back, postpone your inevitable death.

Oh, and most of the building materials you can use to protect yourself? Will also hurt you.

Have fun!

Go here first if you want to try it.

Then go here to buy/play it. Best $20 I've ever spent.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Ten Things I Learned From Running A Minecraft Server

1. That graphical problem is a software issue, not a hardware issue, and there is nothing I can do about it.

2. Apparently I couldn't use Java from Command Prompt until I fixed that setting.

3. Oh, that's what I set for my router's admin password!

4. So that's how you do port forwarding? Cooooool.

5. Admin commands make the game boring.
     5a. Except when you give yourself a lava moat and your friend can't navigate over it.
     5b. Naked people on fire are inherently funny.

6. My computer is still a beast. My internet connection, however, is not.
     6a. Should not allow more than 5 people on the server. :(

7. I can turn monsters off. (I still won't, but I could. If I wanted to.)

8. It's still creepy to know that by using my IP address people can find where I live. :(

9. It's easier to build when you just set it to dawn every time dusk rolls around. See #5.

10. Coming back to the game to find the place I "live" has been improved while I was asleep is pretty cool. Especially if the improvements include a redstone-powered minecart roller coaster.

This Seed is Awesome.

Friday, August 12, 2011

LoL Don't Do This 41-50

41. Don't feed the Tryndamere.

42. Don't go anywhere alone.

43. Don't duel the Tryndamere alone in the jungle.

44. Not allowed to secretly push bottom with a global ulti in an All Random, All Mid.

45. Don't go into that bush. (WHY did you go into that bush?)

46. Just stay away from the damn Tryndamere.

47. Not allowed to deliberately suicide in ARAM.

48. Not allowed to jungle in ARAM.

49. Probably shouldn't jungle without masteries.

50. Probably shouldn't try to carry without masteries.

1-10 11-20 21-30 31-40

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Happy Birthday

Happy birthday to me.

Legally bought my first lottery ticket.

Don't really expect to win, but it has a lot of 1's on it. Good feelings on that. Dunno why.

Had some cake, and some cupcakes, and bought a 2TB hard drive for myself. It was good. Mom got me a LoL card so that was nice too.

Not much to say. It's my damn birthday, I'm taking this time to realign myself.

I will be happy if it kills me, goddammit.

Monday, August 8, 2011

In the Jungle

Or: Why are people stupid?

So the other day I'm pretty much ecstatic because I've finally pieced together how to run Jungle Nocturne (and not die horribly), which is fantastic, because our team didn't really have a jungler before, and now it does, because I can accomplish that.

So yay. Got a runesheet running (ARP Marks & Quints, Armor Yellows, CDR Blues) for it, a mastery sheet, the whole nine.

And then we don't have a fifth, so we pick up this Nasus.

Now, I'm playing a jungler and the other team does not have one. So I innocently ask who's gonna take the 2v1 lane, since one of the characters who could feasably do it is a newbie I know who'd never even gone solo mid before.

She handled it beautifully.

The Nasus, on the other hand, raged a bit at me, because apparently learning to jungle makes me 'not a team player.'

I kind of take offense at that.

The entire reason I spent so much effort, and so many monster deaths, learning this shit is to make my goddamn team stronger. It pisses me off greatly that someone would say I'm 'not a team player' because I'm not in a lane.

But I'm just now getting into the ELO range where people even consider jungling, and it's not the most intuitive idea out there, so it occurred to me that not everyone understands why you want a jungler at all, much less why I'm angry the Nasus was angry.

Why does it help the team to have a jungler?

So, anyone who's played LoL before understands the idea of solo mid. The squishy carry goes there and farms minions to get a massive XP and gold lead on the rest of the team, so by endgame they're obliterating face right, left, and center.

Now, imagine if you could field two solo lanes, while a third member of the team accumulates almost that much XP basically unbothered for the first six or so levels.

Guess what: you can.

Now imagine that someone on your team can roam around to all lanes - because it is their job to do so - and violate anyone they get close to, then melt back into the forest before retaliation can happen. Terrifying, isn't it?

Guess what? You can have that, too!

Jungling provides a massive XP boost to 2-3 members of your team, while placing a certain pressure on the enemy team. It can force them to play defensively and hug their towers even when you're nowhere near them, and it can easily, easily boost your team to victory. On the other hand, the jungler can easily, easily fall behind on experience and has to be the single most attentive player on the map, since they're effectively invested in saving every lane that goes badly at all times. The jungler will cover lanes when one or both occupants need to go to base for whatever reason, and the jungler should also help out the support with warding, which means potentially lost gold.

In short, learning to jungle is one of the single best things you can do for your team apart from learning to tank or support (and kudos to a tank or support who can do the job well), and doing it well is probably the single most team-oriented thing you can do.

I'm a team player, goddammit.

( This guide here helped me immensely and will help just about any other jungler, though you'll have to adapt the specific skills to your needs.

Jungling to excess for the lulz:

Friday, August 5, 2011

Other Things Not To Do While LoLing

31. It is a dick move to load your team up with lowbies and play Nocturne in a PvP match. It just is.

32. Probably shouldn't jungle without taking smite. Even if the ability has absolutely no use whatsoever in pvp and telegraphs where you are and what you're going to be doing to the entire enemy team.

33. It is /d to dance, not 'd.' Anyone who tells you otherwise is a lying liar who lies.

34. Vayne is not a cheap whore. She is a very, very expensive whore. Who uses brutally effective tactics.

35. Don't buy an Oracle's first thing. Just ... don't.

36. Should not teleport in to a 1v5 match if you're the "1." The turret probably won't save you.

37. It's probably better to just avoid /all chat altogether.

38. Should not tab out to play Sims on long death timers.

39. Tower diving against Vlad: also a bad idea.

40. Probably shouldn't use caster runesheet for Vayne.

1-10 11-20 21-30 31-40

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Whee! Fraps!

So I took a couple of videos.

Here's one of them.

It was awesome.

Basically the entire match ended up being one very long game of hide and seek.

Maybe also tag?

The first thirty minutes or so is pretty boring because Sion jungled like a pro.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Why Not Bilgewater

Zum came home! I spent basically all of yesterday (except for the parts where I went shopping) playing with my friends and poking around with Fraps, which I bought and downloaded. It was a good day.

Have some writings.


Why Not Bilgewater

She looked around, feeling rather self-conscious in her rather plain black skirt. The short-sleeved top seemed a bit too tight - though, glancing at the other inhabitants of the bar, she knew it was actually quite conservative and loose. Even in such light clothing, it was hot and sticky inside the bar, though that might just be the various unidentifiable stains on the walls, ceiling, and floor. There were patches she'd swear had been replaced because the alcohol had eaten through the floorboards.

Here, surrounded by raucous pirates devoted to having a good time, she wasn't the summoner Nekhs, removed from the conflict yet reveling in it. Instead, she was just Neiomi, a pale, fragile little redhead who got shoved around if she tried to navigate the crowd. She didn't drink because it made her dizzy, and a dizzy mage was generally a bad thing. Despite all that, there was a lot - almost too much - to distract her from her nervousness, but her mind kept coming back to one simple fact: the other, older summoner hadn't arrived and probably wasn't coming. He'd stood her up. She sighed, wishing she'd had the courage to ask Zum out. The Ionian was nice, and even if he said no, he'd probably be nice about it and explain why not, rather than this.

She sighed slightly, leaning on a patch of wall that didn't seem too sticky, and reached up to rub one of her sensitive ears. The music was just barely louder than the pirates, and she could barely hear herself think.

"What's this, then?" The man somehow managed to be even louder than everything else in here, his words slightly slurred. He was tall, wearing a slightly lopsided hat, and very, very drunk. His open jacket also revealed what looked to be a very angry patch of untamed fur that someone had then proceeded to pour alcohol all over. "I don' think th'li'l lass is havin' a good time, d'you?" He looked back at the other pirates, probably members of his crew.

The sword and pistol hanging from his belt did not escape her attention. How had she gained his?

"C'mere, my pretty. Give ol' Gangplank a kiss." He leered down at her, one eye glowing an evil red, and she felt herself shrink back against the wall.

"I- I'drathernotthanks." Her voice was tiny, and she tried to project confidence into it that she didn't feel.

His expression shifted for the worse, and she realized belatedly that a captain was probably not used to being refused, even - maybe especially - by pretty little redheads. She tried to think, but he was far, far too close for comfort. Instead, as he made a humorless grin down at her, showing far too many teeth, she aimed a kick for his shin.

It wasn't really very effective, so she took a second option: she called a tiny, insignificant pinch of magic to her.

The scene shifted. She was suddenly outside, though the air was still heavy and humid. She took a deep breath, resting her forehead against the outer wall of the building. "There's no place like home," she muttered to herself, summoning a slightly larger pinch of magic. Blue light rolled and churned at her feet as she pictured her small apartment, exactly as she'd left it. She just wanted to go home.

The pirate appeared to her left. Flash was such a short-range spell. "Found you, lass!" He laughed, loudly, pointing the gun at her. "Nobody makes a fool of ol' Gangplank, love. Nobody." She stared at him, eyes wide, mouth moving without sound.

There's no place like home.

The bullet whizzed through the place where she'd been only seconds before.