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| The tale of three brave souls. |
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| Part 1, the Journey. |
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| Once upon a time there were three good-hearted veterans who served |
| as Honourary Angel Guards of the Army of Valarmar located in the |
| Sunny Mountains of Middle Earth. While otherwise good natured, well- |
| mannered and overly empathic, Pils, Jazzius and Kanel sensed some |
| unfairness in the world. Their very skins pulled tightly while only |
| giving slight thought to the Evil Clerics of Schmalia, who's darkened |
| hearts were greased and abilities empowered by the immortals' favor |
| and bias for all things evil. |
| |
| "The immortals' work in mysterious ways" they always repeated |
| religiously to themselves when dark thoughts made attempts to |
| overpower their weary bodies, minds and souls. |
| |
| "We must get stronger", said Kanel after a particularly emotional |
| night of unfairness. Pils and Jazzius agreed while simultaneously |
| realizing they would have to both bring out the repressed violence |
| of the past and mend their marching boots. Middle Earth has long |
| been rid of it's past evil occupants and the solitide, prayer and |
| reflection made boots an archaic relic, bearing nothing but bad |
| memories of a past buried deep in a place untouched for decades. |
| |
| The pure joy of barefoot walking through dewy, moist grass has |
| trumped the need for protection for as long as they could remember. |
| Boots! Such unholy devices, separating skin and the Valar-sung |
| nature for extended periods, perpetuating an uncomfortable distance |
| between the divine and the divined. "Heresy!" they all chanted as |
| laces were tied. |
| |
| With heavy hearts they left their tranquil home, aiming for some |
| weak, evil dungeon to revive past skill and aggression. After a |
| long hard march and a boatride or two they put boots to the ground |
| in the lands of Terel where they sought out the Legion of Darkness, |
| having heard rumours of not only their dark hearts, but also their |
| narrow hallways forcing mostly one-on-one combat. "Praise |
| Eru-Illuvatar!" they all shouted as they stormed their fortifications, |
| sword in hand, ready to forgo all vows of pacifism. Silence. They |
| looked at each other, demoralized from all the mental sacrifices |
| needed to spin up, they realized someone has already been here, as |
| the visage of a heap of headless, half-eaten corpses greeted them |
| farther down the hallway. |
| |
| Very well, someone must have been of equal mind and rid the world |
| of darkness. Their aggression subsided, content with the fact that |
| the world is now a safer place. "Let's see if the fabled dark elves |
| can provide us with the justice we demand" cried Jazzius to the |
| eager nods of his holy compatriots. They walked and walked, wondering |
| how cold is too cold as they marched through a never-ending forest |
| in their search for Avenir. |
| |
| As they entered the caverns of Avenir the same grotesque sight of |
| headless, half-eaten corpses greeted them. Their blood still |
| trickling from ruptured veins, indicating the obvious; "Whoever |
| shares our quest for good must be close!" they agreed as they went |
| deeper into the caves. Following the macabre piles of gore and blood, |
| they reached what they believed was the very end of the cave and just |
| as they turned around a corner they saw four deadly elemental shapes |
| which bore some humanoid resemblance. Pils whispered "What in all |
| that's holy are the Schmalian Doomsquad of Sinister Immortal Favour |
| doing here, killing their allies?", but before anyone could answer |
| one of the shapes started chanting, and before they knew it, the |
| entire squad had disapeared into thin air. |
| |
| "Freaky!" the compatriots of divine blessing thought to themselves |
| as they - perplexed and utterly demoralized from summoning their |
| inner rage without catharsis - figured they'd travel far and wide |
| this time in an effort to avoid the Favoured. |
| |
| Jazzius, known for his sea-faring skills, suggested they go to |
| Mithas, as trolls were abundant and needed dead in order to restore |
| goodness and provide prolonged, substanciated training to one day |
| be able to face the Evil Privileged head on. They agreed, put one |
| boot in front of the other and marched for days only to spend an |
| equal amount of days at sea taking comfort in the fact that they'd |
| not encounter the Recipients of Multiple Benefits this far from |
| where they were last seen killing their own. |
| |
| As Jazzius expertly guided their vessel to shore, their boots |
| finally touched terra firma and as their senses adjusted to the |
| lack of motion they gazed toward the southeast at the camps the |
| trolls had occupied for as long as they could remember. As they |
| trodded on and arrived at the fork, they gazed into the first and |
| second camp only to bear witness to ...deja vu! |
| |
| Headless corpses, half-eaten, one heap obviously fresher than the |
| other and as they gazed into the third and final camp they faced |
| the impossible - "THE CLERICS OF ILL FAVOR! AGAIN!" they whispered |
| in perfect syncronization. "How did did they manage to stay a head |
| of us all this time?" said Pils, voice breaking. "We have been in |
| our boots for weeks and for what? Time a-wasted, strength lost, not |
| gained and to top it all; resources and will to live at levels only |
| felt as the Deceitful Mangers of Ithilien seemed like they had the |
| upper hand. Thank the Good Melkar, a strike of pure ingenuity |
| turned the tides and solemn peace has reigned under the watchful, |
| benign Eye of the Mithril Mages ever since. |
| |
| Deep in despair the Holy Trio from the Sunny Mountains decided to |
| put and end to these Schmalian Malignant Benefactors and thrust |
| into battle with with renewed fervor. Pils, who swung first against |
| what looked like a semi-material gust of wind only to find his |
| weapon hit nothing but air. Jazzius right behind took a swing at |
| the fiery humanoid-ish, only to find his weapon a-fire. As Kanel |
| pulled back to prepare a lunge the trio heard whispers in the wind |
| and right before their eyes, the squad vanished and one troll |
| remained. |
| |
| The trio took pity on the troll, and upon a promise of doing good, |
| left it to repopulate the camp to ensure that the tale of the |
| Vanishing Peril from Extreme Favouritism's exploits, swift arrival |
| and departure lived on in the faraway lands of Krynn. |
| |
| After several weeks the Trio of Valarmar Goodness finally arrived |
| back home in the Sunny Mountains only to find their morals depleted, |
| will to go on exhausted and marching boots in tatters. They vowed |
| to never put on boots again, and defend their homeworld in |
| harmonious, moist barefootedness as a daily reminder that the |
| Immortals really do work in mysterious ways. |
| |
| Moral of the story: Team teleportation to player selected locations |
| is a gross insult to those in lack of it and their valuable time |
| reserved to existing in Genesis. It completely and utterly breaks |
| the game if applied as painted above, and should either be completely |
| removed or in the very least severely deplete resources and take |
| the equivalent of a boat ride plus full wait at the pier to prepare |
| and execute. The ability to just skip a whole team to a new grind |
| in a matter of seconds provides an unfair advantage to one side of |
| the alignment spectre. |
| |
| It is not balance people. It's bias, favorism, privilege and |
| completely in conflict with the two main reasons boat rides last |
| as long as they do; provide arenas for social, player vs player |
| interaction and provide a sense of distance. |
| |
| Penned by the Nils |
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