So after a long break, I finally convince Dr.Sexy to come back to AC. He plays this god-awful spear user, Cindar. Why on earth he wanted to use a spear is beyond me, but I’m sure it has something to do with phallic envy.
When last he left off, we had just gone through all the grief of getting him Tibri’s Fire Spear. I was pretty pleased with myself, as this was yet another quest I managed to accomplish all by myself. Well, okay, myself, CoD, Maggie, random passer-byers that took pity on us, and a blinding stroke of luck (someone running by actually cast Armor 6 on both of us).
So after a brief tumble down the subway pit, which brought me to the lifestone and allowed me to repeat the process (I always forget to stop and heal after fighting those damn miners, and just leap, and then I’m amazed that I die – sigh). But finally, I make my way to Cindar, who’s trying to look up the Sentinal’s statue’s skirt. Some people’s kids.
You say, “C’mon, let’s go explore.”
Cindar says, “Explore what?”
You say, “I dunno, let’s just run around and look for stuff to kill.”
Cindar says, “Every time you say that, WE end up being the stuff that gets killed!”
You say, “Stop being such a fragile girly kitten and c’mon!”
So off we go. The first thing foolish enough to cross our paths is a bunch of good for nothing Bandies, hiding out in someone’s house! Well, we’ll just make short work of them…
Cindar says, “Ack! I forgot my shield! This hurts!”
Cindar runs off.
You say, “Come back here, you bastich! Don’t make me fight these guys myself!”
Cindar says, “No way, you get ’em!”
You say, “There’s too many of them, goombah! They’ll kill me!”
Cindar says, “That’s a chance I’m willing to take!”
Bastich.
But by some miracle, I don’t die.
Death says, “Zzzzzzzz….znork. Hey! What’d I just miss?”
Yeah, that’s right – me, alone against SEVERAL bad-ass bandies, and who’s left standing? How I loves it when they call me Big Poppa…
Cindar says, “Hey Lardass! You done yet?”
You say, “Hate joo!”
Well, nothing left to do now but pick through the bits of the bandies for anything salvageable. Cindar’s looting the guys inside, and I’m jumping up and down on the guys outside, when I notice about 500 blips on the radar. All heading right at us. Well, right at ME.
You say, “SWEET MOTHER OF GOD! GET INSIDE THE HOUSE AND LOCK THOSE DOORS!”
Cindar says, “huh?”
You say, “INCOMING!”
At this point, Cindar wises up and closes the door. In my face. Now, rather than take the fifteen minutes I know it will take me to figure out how to open that stupid door, I spend the next few minutes running in circles and screaming like a schoolgirl, the whole time cursing Cindar, who’s inside. Giggling.
Cindar says, “Hee. I like it when they hit you and I can hear it through the door!”
You say, “You bastich, you’re going to pay for this!”
Cindar says, “Okay, I’ll open the door now. Come here.”
You say, “hurry!”
Cindar says, “Psych! No entrance for joo!”
You say, “Bastich!”
Cindar giggles.
Now, somehow, I’ve managed to jump on the roof. The mobs of Banderlings have grown weary of playing slap-ass with me, and have left me with five hitpoints. They run off, back to whatever nefarious schemings they were up to before they saw the Banderling Signal flash in the sky. Cindar decides that now that all the critters have left, he will come out and rescue me. He steps out of the door.
Cindar says, “Ta-da!”
In the meantime, I have climbed on top of the chimney, from which perch I am about to introduce Cindar to the joy that is impact damage.
Except I forget this isn’t DarkTide. And that I tend to suck at jumping. And that jumping, sometimes known as ‘falling’, damages me.
You have died!
Cindar tells you, “Woah! That was cool! What were you trying to accomplish there?”
You tell Cindar, “I hate joo.”
So now I make the run back, get all my gear, and try and get my revenge on Cindar by leading a group of Tumeroks at him. Instead, the Tumeroks decide it would be more fun to jump on my back and make my butt cheeks their new banner carrier by embedding it solidly in my nether regions. So I die. Again.
Cindar tells you, “Hey! I like how it tells you when people nearby have died! Look, now I don’t even have to be near you to hear about you dying! Hee!”
You tell Cindar, “H8.”
Finally, we meet up once again, and I take a few minutes to lecture Cindar on his lack of intelligence, sexual prowess, hygiene, and a long discourse on his genetic make-up and where is father’s DNA just might have come from. Our friendship rekindled, we’re off once again. This time, we’re going to hunt down the Banderling Leader that spent some time chasing me, because I’ve never seen one of them before. Therefore, we must kill it. Perfectly logical.
So we track this critter down to his little mob scene with his groupies, and I give very careful instructions to Cindar about what to do: I will draw the group to me with my mighty bow, and then he is to wait by my side and attack them as they come close to me.
Cindar says, “No problem; fire away!”
Now, a sane person would assume that by “No problem,” what he meant was, in fact, “yes, I understand your directions and will follow them with no problems.” But what was apparently actually meant was, “I DO NOTHING YOU TELL ME TO AND HOPE YOU DIE,” because here is what happened:
I fired my first arrow.
It hits the Banderling Leader.
His band of half-wits turn towards us and begin rushing.
I continue firing.
CINDAR TURNS 180 DEGREES AROUND AND CHARGES AT THE GROUP OF WOOD GOLEMS BEHIND US.
I begin screaming at him. Then I begin screaming at the Banderlings that have now grouped me in and commenced to play slap-ass with me.
Cindar realizes he’s not quite up to tackling the Wood Golems, and runs off.
The Wood Golems, now fully aroused, come over to see what the Banderlings are doing, and if they might get a turn.
I die, screaming obsceneties as I go.
Cindar tells you, “Wow, that was fun. What happened to you?”
Death giggles.
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