Polemicist
Neophyte
HEY YA'LL!
A typical dexxer suit could fetch 2,000 gold on the open market, let alone the every so often high-end magic weapon and armor set, and with so many active PvPers in such a relatively small and dangerous dungeon, the loot can tend to stack up rather quickly.
I'd just had a few loaves of stale bread and watered down lager at the derelict Blue Boar in Britain, and, feeling spry and somewhat indignant, had decided to sally out in search of glory, loot, and more loot. Destard seemed like the perfect quick-fix for a last minute re-up on odd armaments, hardly used and dropped only once.
Recalling in a few screens away from the entrance, I had crept right up past the threshold, and after sticking my head inside, I was greeted by a most peculiar site.
Ugh.
Blues. Blues, everywhere. What once was a veritable buffet of full-on halberd rape has been seemingly reduced to a dragon-bashing waiting line. Blues, with their multicolored newbie'd dreamcoats, their manual targeting, their lesser healing potions, their positive karma, and their casual disregard for pants policy; Destard was wrought with the disease of relative innocence.
Insufferable. This is some real dragon abuse. Lord British really should sign that into law already. Or Blackthorne, whoever handles laws really. Would that be something the True Britanians would advocate? I'd hope so. Someone should collect donations for all of these newly created orphan Dragons before they all starve to death- or worse, before they get tamed by a Paws member.
It didn't take long before I stumbled upon my first philanthropist.
A nice power/surprisingly accurate executioner axe and about 100 of each reg! That's always a good sign. I spend a moment to casually gank the items while cycling hide to keep the monsters from making thief-kebab out of my fleshy bits. After looting my fill, I stealth away and wait for my timer to tick down, that I may recall out and stash the goodies at The Gentleman's Retreat. Boy, I'm glad the Young Dragon's Youth Crew Dead as Fuck Dad, Turned Orphan foundation is really taking off.
Recalling back in, I'm instantly greeted by the corpse of a murderer named Breez. I waste no time in disecting the corpse and acquiring the head.
Quick 10k! Thanks Breez! That's not all he donated.
Oh boy! I decide to head back so I can dry-loot the rest of his goodies. I thought I spotted an invulnerable chest piece.
As I recall back in, one intolerable blue named Cannabis decides that he would like the loot, as well. We go back and forth attempting to reveal one another. I finally pop out just long enough to catch the aggro.
Son of a *****. First death of the evening. Deciding that I'm not going down without a fight, I throw a gate up on my alt to quickly resurrect.
Wearing my death-robe jammies, I run through the gate just long enough to pop a snoop on Cannabis, put a last target down, and hit my steal macro. I didn't even bother hiding. This whole thing happened in 30 seconds, I barely had time to take a screen shot.
You can't outloot a looter.
I pop back in to remind him.
I stumble over more dead bodies! Some fresh with loot! Destard surely is where blues go to die. They're really, really charitable here and it really warms my heart.
Some regs, some decent GM verite weapons, some gold, and a lot of junk. These guys seriously die with a bunch of useless shit on them.
Like,
Garbage.
Trash,
why would you even, wait, what?
At least they left literature. Yuncle, dedicated Destard corpser and amateur role-player? Who knows.
I got bored. As the loot stream began to ebb, I decide to go hard and start nabbing weapons.
It's garbage. I head back to push my luck.
Not bad.
I want it.
(Capped at 25 images? Crud. Ending is forthcoming in response.)
EPISODE 1: THE GANG GETS DESTARD-ED
From Atlantic, to Siege, to GL, to Chesapeake, to IPY and ABC and ********, Destard has always been a breeding ground for some of the most heinous of PK and PvP guilds and characters. Nary a bard, nor tamer, nor dexxer would be found farming dragons, drakes and wyverns without an inkling of concern for their lives or belongings. It was just unfeasible. Though, it could be profitable for an individual possessing certain talents.
A typical dexxer suit could fetch 2,000 gold on the open market, let alone the every so often high-end magic weapon and armor set, and with so many active PvPers in such a relatively small and dangerous dungeon, the loot can tend to stack up rather quickly.
I'd just had a few loaves of stale bread and watered down lager at the derelict Blue Boar in Britain, and, feeling spry and somewhat indignant, had decided to sally out in search of glory, loot, and more loot. Destard seemed like the perfect quick-fix for a last minute re-up on odd armaments, hardly used and dropped only once.
Recalling in a few screens away from the entrance, I had crept right up past the threshold, and after sticking my head inside, I was greeted by a most peculiar site.
Ugh.
Blues. Blues, everywhere. What once was a veritable buffet of full-on halberd rape has been seemingly reduced to a dragon-bashing waiting line. Blues, with their multicolored newbie'd dreamcoats, their manual targeting, their lesser healing potions, their positive karma, and their casual disregard for pants policy; Destard was wrought with the disease of relative innocence.
Insufferable. This is some real dragon abuse. Lord British really should sign that into law already. Or Blackthorne, whoever handles laws really. Would that be something the True Britanians would advocate? I'd hope so. Someone should collect donations for all of these newly created orphan Dragons before they all starve to death- or worse, before they get tamed by a Paws member.
It didn't take long before I stumbled upon my first philanthropist.
A nice power/surprisingly accurate executioner axe and about 100 of each reg! That's always a good sign. I spend a moment to casually gank the items while cycling hide to keep the monsters from making thief-kebab out of my fleshy bits. After looting my fill, I stealth away and wait for my timer to tick down, that I may recall out and stash the goodies at The Gentleman's Retreat. Boy, I'm glad the Young Dragon's Youth Crew Dead as Fuck Dad, Turned Orphan foundation is really taking off.
Recalling back in, I'm instantly greeted by the corpse of a murderer named Breez. I waste no time in disecting the corpse and acquiring the head.
Quick 10k! Thanks Breez! That's not all he donated.
Oh boy! I decide to head back so I can dry-loot the rest of his goodies. I thought I spotted an invulnerable chest piece.
As I recall back in, one intolerable blue named Cannabis decides that he would like the loot, as well. We go back and forth attempting to reveal one another. I finally pop out just long enough to catch the aggro.
Son of a *****. First death of the evening. Deciding that I'm not going down without a fight, I throw a gate up on my alt to quickly resurrect.
Wearing my death-robe jammies, I run through the gate just long enough to pop a snoop on Cannabis, put a last target down, and hit my steal macro. I didn't even bother hiding. This whole thing happened in 30 seconds, I barely had time to take a screen shot.
You can't outloot a looter.
I pop back in to remind him.
I stumble over more dead bodies! Some fresh with loot! Destard surely is where blues go to die. They're really, really charitable here and it really warms my heart.
Some regs, some decent GM verite weapons, some gold, and a lot of junk. These guys seriously die with a bunch of useless shit on them.
Like,
Garbage.
Trash,
why would you even, wait, what?
At least they left literature. Yuncle, dedicated Destard corpser and amateur role-player? Who knows.
I got bored. As the loot stream began to ebb, I decide to go hard and start nabbing weapons.
It's garbage. I head back to push my luck.
Not bad.
I want it.
(Capped at 25 images? Crud. Ending is forthcoming in response.)
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