Shamus Plays

Shamus Plays
Shamus Plays WoW #7: The Cataclysm Begins!

Shamus Young | 8 Dec 2010 13:00
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We return to Bernice. Who is actually just about twenty paces away and who doesn't have anything to say about the extermination of her livestock. Norman hands over the meat and she whips up a pie. Then we trudge back to the Maclure farm and deliver it.

Billy begins scarfing the pie with his bare hands. He consumes it right in front of us while we wait.

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Once the messy, noisy business is all over Billy belches, "Mm, yum! This pie is the best! I think my memory is coming back to me. Yeah! I was playing near the Fargodeep Mine, and I think I dropped, er ... I mean I saw, the old lady's necklace. Don't ask me how it got there ... it wasn't me! Anyway, I saw this big, gold-toothed kobold pick up the necklace."

The kid points us to a kobold camp right near his home. When we arrive we find an unusually large and feisty kobold.

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We roast him and reclaim the necklace. Then we return to Bernice.

"Oh, you found it! Thank you, thank you dear!" she cheers as Norman hands over the scorched necklace, still glistening with the juices of flash-fried kobolds.

Norman gives a modest bow. He leads us away, whistling a happy tune.

"What are you so happy about?" I ask.

"We finally made a difference! Don't you feel the least bit happy about that?"

"Me? I'm ecstatic. This has been our best job so far. I just don't understand why you're happy. Are you finally willing to admit that evil is more fun?"

"Evil? What evil?" Norman says in genuine confusion.

"You really didn't notice? Man, you're hopeless."

"Come on. We helped a widow recover an heirloom necklace. How could you call this evil?"

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"You continued and perhaps even intensified a long-standing feud between two families by helping a little boy extort the Maclure family, which resulted in the death of most of their livestock, all so you could recover some gaudy jewelry to satisfy Bernice's vanity. Killing the kobold who had nothing to do with it and leaving Billy MacLure unpunished was just gravy."

Norman stops whistling. Then he stops walking. His shoulders sag. His mustache seems to droop into a frown. He's quiet for a long time.

"So!" I say enthusiastically, "Who are we gonna help next?"

Next Week: This feud isn't going to incite itself, you know.

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