Shamus Plays: LOTRO, Part 4 :

continued from page 3

In town I meet a woman who is trying to get enough food together. She wants me to kill five wild boars and bring her a shank of meat from each. Very nice. I guess I'll leave the rest of the carcass out in the field to rot. I mean, why drag a single boar back into town and use it to feed everyone for days when you can just... be incredibly wasteful?

Hey... while we're making the rounds, we should stop in the town jail.

Remember Calder Cob? I managed to get him arrested earlier for conspiring with the brigands. Let's see how he's doing.

THIS is Calder Cob?

You guys couldn't tell he was a bad guy? I mean, look at him! You should have put him in jail just for having that obnoxiously smug look on his face.

The jailer wants to have a word with me.

Now, normally I don't ask you to read quest text, but it's important to realize that all the stuff I'm doing here is actually the stuff you do in the game. I'm posting this screenshot because I know you're cynical and will call me a liar if I don't.

Calder Cob has been aiding the brigands in their attack, acting as their spy. They could very well come in here and kill every single person in the village. You need Cob to talk. And your plan is to bake him a cake because he asked you? Put me in that cell with him for five minutes and I'll make him sing like an elven bard in springtime.

Tossers.

Calder Cob proved to be quite a snake,
serving brigands from over the lake.
All of his spying
could lead to us dying.
SO WHY ARE WE FEEDING HIM CAKE!?!?

I must say I think I've really grown as a hobbit through this adventure. I began with a very mild distrust for humans, but over the course of the day that antipathy has blossomed and grown into a deeply rooted racial prejudice.

I spend the next four or five ages of the world running around town swatting flies, killing boars, and gathering up stuff to bake a cake for a treasonous murderer.

I'm rewarded with a bounty of clothing.

I'll most likely die in the raid tonight, but damn if I'm not going to go out looking fabulous.

I don't know where all these humans are getting these hobbit clothes, or why the entire economy of this town seems to be some sort of garment-based barter system, but if I had known that traveling to foreign parts and stabbing people was the key to high fashion I would have begun doing both ages ago.

Things are now well and truly settled around town. Nobody else is asking for help. They're either ready for tonight's raid, or they're out of spare clothes. I head back and talk to Jon Brackenbrook.