The Mage They Call Jayne(z), Part 1: A Tale of Two Starting Zones
A Tale of Two Starting Zones
Having completed a rather extended download and set up, I backlog into the Genus Beta client triumphantly … only to describe that the servers are down. Whoops. That was anti-climactic. So, I go off and do something else for a while – and when I next return, the servers are up! Joyous day of days!
As excited equally I was to kick off my second Grand Important Adventure, though, this bittie incident did strike a tiny warning bell in the back of my mind regarding the host stability. Aforementioned tocsin would be proven quite right as my venture continued – spell Kalimdor, the East-central Kingdoms, Outland, and even the representativ servers are all fine and dandy, Rash seems to be running Northrend on an older host they'd been victimization A a doorstopper before realizing they requisite something to innkeeper U.S.A Beta-ers happening. Adventuring sure is fun when your spells won't cast of characters – simply really, information technology's fine; there aren't any mobs or so to cast them on anyways!
But, *cough* I digress. Where was I?
Ah, yes. Logging in. Coincidentally enough, I entered the Beta servers in just about the same spot I'd left them the last time, back in Shattrath. Of course, Outland is passé and so 2007, so we couldn't have that! I had to get to Northrend! The question, then: …how? Of course, I'd heard active the new zeppelin routes, so being the practical Mage I am, I teleported to Orgrimmar and rode to the Zeppelin hul, where I proceeded to delay. The zeppelin to Grom'Gol came, and I waited. The zeppelin to Undercity came, and I waited some many. By the time the Grom'Gol flight had arrived a second time, I was beginning to get antsy.
Then I turned close to, saw a bit zeppelin tower on the other side of Orgrimmar's entrance, and felt slightly silly. After regaining the tattered shreds of my pride, I mounted astir and rode to that other tower. Within a minute, another dirigible (this single with embattled headlights and a inflate painted like a shark's mouth) had arrived, and my travel had truly begun!
An interesting reflexion – the zeppelins and ships that one uses to travel in the Rusty Earthly concern of Classical Rio are now not only onymous but crewed with NPCs with whom you can actually interact. (Sadly, I couldn't find Captain Placeholder – but I didn't look identical hard, soh maybe he's relieve in that respect. We shan't give up hope!) For illustration, the boat from Auberdine to Stormwind (formerly Menethil) is the Bravery. Information technology's a very nice touch that makes Azeroth flavour a trifle more spirited and real … of course, the new vessels that lead-in to Northrend are, like the ships and zeppelins of immemorial, entirely empty and unmanned. It's a bit cacophonous, and sort of perplexing that Blizzard would go and flesh out this old content but leave the parvenue stuff bare-boned.
Ah, there I go again. Apologies. Ahem. Yes! I was on my way, my way … to Northrend!
After a loading covert featuring a rather evil-looking poke fu – whose name escapes me at the second … but really, I think I've seen him before and he seems rather authoritative (Witch King? Sew together King? Fish King? Something like that) – the Zeppelin arrived and entered the massive and imposing fortress of Warsong Hold in the Borean Tundra. Now, I'm not entirely steady when exactly the Warsong Clan base the time to progress something suchlike this in between so much bloodthirsty acts as capturing a flag, but I'm non intuitive feeling the need to argue with people who have such a physical process construction department.
It was here, my first flight into Warsong Hold gaping open-mouthed the entire meter, that I well-educated the first of all real thing about Wrath of the Lich King: Northrend is rattling, in truth, beautiful. But custody that thought; I'll get back thereto in a little.
Eastern Samoa I disembarked off the zeppelin, I noticed that on that point were two things wrong with the icon. The first was simply my own error: since I have Big Important Plans for this time around, I'd meant to start off Horde-pull with my Mage in the Howling Fjord. The Borean Tundra I'd planned on leaving (initially) to my Druid – yes, Alliance, I have a level 70 of your kind now, so I'll be getting the encounter to explore Northrend from the Friend point of view this time more or less. So by being in the Tundra on my Mage, my plans were already in jeopardy! But really, that was an easy problem, and one I could fix quickly with a simple left to the Undercity. A port … that wasn't casting.
That was the second thing – Warsong Appreciation was looted. As I ran around the big structure with my work force still glowing with teleport-y king (and proceeded to become rather gone), I didn't visualize a single NPC. There was aught there at all.
One server crash later o, I logged back into the Borean Tundra and found that the NPCs had all returned in my petit mal epilepsy. Hooray!
I further explored the Hold, and upon determination a fashio out watched As mobile undead … things … descended upon assembled ranks of Horde warriors. As a emotional Darkspear Troll who loves Home, State, and Momma's Unsoured Apple-And-Scorpid Pie, there are naturally hardly a things in this creation or any other that I loathe more flying undead … things.
Sol I set some of them on flame. I felt much better about myself afterwards.
Backward hinder inwardly Warsong Hold, a minute more exploring brought me face to face with the commanders of the Hold: Garrosh Hellscream and Tenor Master Saurfang. I briefly wondered if Saurfang were still standing in Orgrimmar ready and waiting to skewer some more inkiness dragon heads onto pikes, surgery if Garrosh were placid standing in Nagrand beingness each emo (operating theatre badass, dependent on if you've cooked the quest or not) … but along second sentiment, I decided not to question their ability to follow in two places – or indeed two assorted mindsets – at erst. I rather like my head affianced to my shoulders, you come across … and I didn't eff where the nearest graveyard was yet.
The two discuss the logistics of in operation a forward base like Warsong Hold in the midst of a hostile land, surrounded by enemies like the Undead and stealthed Gnome Rogues WHO spam /spit at our pathetic questgivers. Saurfang stresses the motive for supply lines, while Garrosh believes in boot conclude to the curb and doing the impossible based on a true man's warrior spirit! Fighting look won't keep troops Federal, though.
You know, this begs the call into question – what use are append lines when Mages give the sack literally conjur food and drink from hyperfine melody? I mean really – if the two of them would deign to help me rally, I could accept a witching table to feed hundreds of soldiers (Beaver State twenty-five really greedy ones) ready within seconds! Pi, give me Little Phoeb minutes and I could make other one! Not like they log out, either.
For that matter, why is information technology that we can only conjur different types of bread? Perhaps I shouldn't think overmuch about this, because now I'm having visions of a real spiteful and possessive case Nether-Bakery that supplies all our conjury of necessity and frowns upon competition. It's best not to dwell.
Anyway, it seems that upon regaining his father's spirit, Garrosh Hellscream has possibly slightly overcompensated for his earlier malaise, and is now in the mood to crush slightly more skulls than he maybe should be. He also interestingly enough refers to the "razing of Orgrimmar," which is some other puzzling affair because as farthermost as I know, the swell's never been there ahead. And hell, I'd just come from at that place, and IT looked fine to me. I submit that Garrosh has gone slightly loopy.
Saurfang might correspond with that, as he reminds Garrosh that although the two of them certainly kick ass, they don't need to kick everybody's keister. There are people World Health Organization they in truth just don't need to kill. He then starts telling Garrosh about the things he and his separate warriors had done while low-level the blood-curse of Mannoroth such as slaughtering helpless Draenei children, and that despite what the jr. Orc might call up, "let's vote down everybody!" is not always the best root to 1's problems.
It's actually a identical riveting conversation, and I'd have blue-eyed to stay and watch it play out in full … but with other host crash I decide to get the hell out of Dodge and head back to Undercity to make my way to the Wondrous Fjord.
Like Orgrimmar, Undercity has a trade name new-sprung Graf Zeppelin tower. Unlike Orgrimmar, this one is actually right next to the tower that's already there, and thusly it's much, much harder to neglect. I briefly pause to out-of-doors a portal to Shattrath (psh, still so 2007) for a lowbie Death Knight, and while doing thus envy the fact that they in reality get really cool-looking mounts.
Later my envy has passed, I board the again-empty Zeppelin to head to the Howling Fiord!
I'd touched on this before, and I will mention it over again, likely multiple multiplication: the newborn Wrath of the Lich Magnate zones are absolutely bonny. I am incredibly thankful that I've actually got a semi-decent gaming PC that can run this at nourished settings instead of my aged, ungainly laptop computer because Blizzard has really outdone themselves. This is trusty technologically – the draw aloofness seems better, the models look on to wealthy person a high polygonal shape matter, and some of the new tur effects are far and away beyond what we saw in vanilla WoW Oregon true TBC – but especially true artistically. I've merely really gotten the chance to explore bits and pieces of the cardinal starting zones up to now, and I'm still beingness flabbergasted aside what I see.
Snowstorm has outdone themselves. Everything is gorgeous. This will almost sure ejaculate up again, so moot yourselves warned.
I poke around Vengeance Landing place and talk to the headland honcho, Soprano Executor Anselm. As anti to some of the other NPCs (particularly the Alliance ones as I'll get to in a irregular), the Undead seem to have been taking correspondence courses from the Nathanos Blightcaller School of Snarky Seeking-Bounteous and complete act like I should be grateful they just asked ME to go assist feed their Plaguehound or what not. Lousy snarky Forsaken.
After setting my hearthstone, I decide that it's metre to go see what's what on the Alliance root of things, and log onto my level 70 Ally: The Druid They Call Tieria.
…doesn't work as well as I'd hoped. Hm. I'll think of something.
American Samoa Druids suffer no handy-dandy teleport and for whatever reason I'd set my hearthstone in Area 52, I drive advantage of the reworked boat paths and port to Moonglade, taking a short flight to Auberdine and embarkment the Bravery bound for Stormwind.
Even though it's technically Old-Globe subject matter, Stormwind Harbor, like everything else in this damn expansion pack, is rattling pretty. Easy the most exciting affair in the city, and I'm torn 'tween look envy towards the Alliance (uh, non including myself) for having something so infernal aplomb in one of their place cities, or compassion for them because they've played out foursome years here and apparently never known that all you had to do to access a functional hold was make a petite little tunnel. As a Night Elf Druid who certainly experienced the ol' Wetlands Corpse-Hop, I sympathize.
Having raided on my Druid for a patc, I make up one's mind to adjudicate retired the new Feral tree, and toss my healing gear in the bank for other time. I (completely unintentionally) earn a new Achievement by falling 65 yards and surviving due to Cat form, which was decent. And then, it was off to Northrend! …again!
Incidentally, the (nonexistent) crew of the sauceboat to the Borean Tundra isn't very good at docking. At that place's about a five-foot interruption between the side of the boat and the dock which makes for both comedy (when you make the jump) and frustration (when you payoff a nice swim).
Upon arriving in Valiance Keep, I disembark and explore the town. Yes, IT's very beautiful, and feels much more "cognizant" than nigh other towns in the domain. There's a good deal sledding along, including a line of civilians waiting to draft and fight the Flagellate because Uncle Bolvar Wants You! Intimately, not YOU, You. I meant… THEM, You.
You know what? Let's … just move happening.
As opposed to the unholier-than-yard Undead questgivers, the Alliance NPCs appear to recognize that I am, in fact, a head honch. I'm apparently rather renowned collectable to my awesomeness and badassery in Outland, and so I get to decreased the line and pass over the bureaucratic procedure entirely – they send me vertical to talk to the commander in charge of things. One of the civilians in the line asks me if I think I'm too honorable to stand with the rest of them? Yes. Yes I do.
It's punch-drunk when you think most it, because literally every player who comes through Hera is going to exist given the same accolades and kudos that everyone else gets … merely it's still a little affectionate fuzzy feeling; they do a good job at qualification you palpate alike an actual hero.
Upon talking to the commanding officer of Valorousness Keep (and watching him perplexingly flex down an offer from a Draenei ambassador to send reinforcements because his civilians-turned-soldiers are apparently too dumb and irrational to accept help from Space Paladins), I'm transmitted to another officer, who tells me to go slaughter Nerubians. Sure, I can do that.
However, arsenic I poop out of the keep to witness that the server is again having a bad case of the gremlins and everything seems to exist standing still, I decide that fighting mightiness be a terrible idea under those conditions. Luckily, in that location's another quest nearby: a medic who is trying to treat poisoned soldiers, but lacks the antidote to do thusly. Aforementioned antidote is handily in the cargo hold of a lately-arrived ship, so he asks me to go catch on. I do, but upon descending into the guard I am set upon by members of the Furor of the Unredeemed. Now, they're called "Clandestine Cultists," simply there's nothing very clandestine about having a wicked altar with skulls thereon right out in plain scene and attacking anyone who comes down into the hold, now is in that location?
I have in mind, rattling. This is seemingly a cargo ship that has come delivering badly-needed supplies to war-weary forces in Northrend. Cargo ships generally use their cargo hold to carry cargo (how bizarre, I know) … so one would guess that there would be at the least some traffic in and prohibited of the place, right? You'd think soul would have reported that there were Evil Death Cultists down there with an openly visible Evil Death Cult Evil Skull Altar of Evil Doom. Bad sure that wouldn't be happening the cargo manifesto.
Having slaughtered these Evil Death Cultists, I take the news to the transport's maitre d' who acts genuinely surprised. Helium maintains that the cultists must be sneakier than foreseen, and worries that they've infiltrated some of the other ships. I wield that he should probably gain that "If the Lich King commands it!" is probably not proper naval speak.
As the server teetered towards some other crash, I decided that it was probably a sign in that I should get both shut-oculus, because that particular Fatigue debuff is a doozy. I'd also unrecoverable how long these things can get … so I think hither's a nice place to pause awhile.
But get into't lose hope, my friends. My tales don't end here! Coming up next, well … there are dungeons to be run, and we'll irritate introducing the rest of the team – this time, I'm not alone in adventuring! As I same last time, anyone in the Beta is perfectly welcome to join us …
… but we'll start out to that later. The journeying is just getting started, after all.
See you next time!
-TMTCJ(z)
https://www.escapistmagazine.com/the-mage-they-call-jaynez-part-1-a-tale-of-two-starting-zones/
Source: https://www.escapistmagazine.com/the-mage-they-call-jaynez-part-1-a-tale-of-two-starting-zones/