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27 March 2008 @ 01:48 pm
Strange things seem to be afoot here in the Temple of Set. I hesitate to use that expression, as I lack feet, but it seems apropos.

As easy as my job sounds, it has become decidedly more difficult of late. "Eat anyone that tries to steal the rock" sounds so simple. For some reason unfathomable to me, however, suddenly a lot more people are trying to steal the rock. Have you ever gorged yourself on a group of adventurers only to have another bunch come along 5 minutes later? And then more after that? I'm starting to have to stack them against the wall for later eating. It makes it very difficult to keep my trim snakey figure. Ever seen a fat snake? Not a pretty sight. And believe me, ermmm..."passing" swords and armor out the other end is...well...it makes you dream of the days when you thought curry made for a rough morning.

Last month someone came and "balanced" me. Not quite sure who he was or what exactly he meant by that. The process seemed to involve gluing some neat looking spikes on me and giving me longer fangs. The new fangs are nice-I had some chainmail links stuck on one of my old ones that were quite a bother. It's rather difficult for me to use a toothbrush, as one might imagine. He also promoted me to something called "Raid stage boss". Apparently my inability to eat all of the chaps that wander in here is being overlooked. I'm unclear as to how my new job is different, other than that the batches of food that arrive seem much larger. Sigh. I'm going to have to ask for a couple of eating assistants.

They've also given me a...pet? Companion? Well, "bait" is perhaps the best word. Seems the rock wasn't enough-they want even MORE people streaming through here. See, I now have a human chained to the wall next to the rock and I am under strict orders not to eat her, like that was even going to be a problem.. She didn't say much at first-just yelled a lot, which was a bit tiresome. Made me want to let someone rescue her, frankly. She calmed down after a bit until the "balancing guy" came and took away her chainmail bikini top. That made her yell a lot more, though I'd think she'd be happier without it. It must have chafed horribly and it's not like it's particularly cold down here. We get along alright now, though. Her job title is Captured Princess something or other but she told me to call her Margie. They don't seem to giver her much to eat. I've offered to share some of my barbarian chow with her but that seemed to make her start yelling again. Some people just have no sense of appreciation.

We got a memo today to expect an absurd increase in trespasser numbers soon. I just don't know where I'm going to stack them all.
05 March 2007 @ 11:13 pm
The Titan Quest expansion is out and, as some have discovered, contains several easter eggs inspired by beastman archer :)

I'm guessing a few people might get directed here as a result-scroll down to the bottom entry and read up if you want them to make any sense ;)

I'm quite honored to have inspired some easter eggs. So far I know of the "Letter to Mom" and the "Diary of a teenage meanad" that directly refer to these AARs as well as many others written in the same spirit. If you come across any others, please let me know!

Rumor is that beastman archer himself can be found in the game somewhere, though it might be tricky to find him...
16 October 2006 @ 09:09 pm
Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Just another giant snake with a goofy 'S' heavy snake name. It's not my fault that 'S' and 'TH' are the only real sounds we can effectively make. You just try to get a snake to say a 'B' or a 'Q'. Not going to happen. Sssysssithisssimusss? Sure. Bob? Right out. You can call me Sssysss.

Apart from having a name that sounds like a man with a lisp and a stutter trying to swear, being a giant snake isn't that bad, really. The Stygians are quite into us, for whatever bizarre reason that I've decided not to ask about, which presents plenty of job opportunities for the aspiring snake. Take my job, for example. I get paid to sleep all the time. Good gig if you can get it. Sure, the pay isn't much, relatively speaking. Free food and a warm place to sleep, but it's not like I need much in the way of pocket money seeing as I don't have any pockets. What would I spend it on? Snake clothes? A flute? I even have a big statue of Set to keep me company.

My one job requirement is to eat anybody that tries to steal the rock from the statue. I know-what kind of ridiculous job is that? It's a rock. Sure, from a human perspective I s'pose it's a pretty rock. It's all green and glowy and if I look into it I can see my reflection, see my eyes...mirrored in the facets...so many eyes...sooo green...so pret-Ack! Note to self. Don't look at the rock ever again.

So it's a pretty rock that glows and makes you dizzy if you look at it. Apparently this is a coveted item for the humans-so much so that I get paid room and board to make sure that the rock stays put. The food isn't half bad, either, although I wish there were a bit more variety. I mean, young virgin women are great now and then, but every freakin' meal? Come on. Supposedly they pick them because they're more "tender" or some rot. I am, however, a snake. It's not like I chew my food. What do I care if they're tender? If anything I'd rather have the big muscley ones. They take much longer to digest after I swallow them. After a virgin I'm hungry again like half an hour later.

That and the chanting. It's nice, once in awhile, to have a roomful of cultists chanting to you but a more upbeat song once in awhile couldn't hurt, could it? Maybe something like 'Barbara Ann'. I love that song. Just imagine a whole roomful of cultists belting that one out. I bet they'd be great at synchronized choreography. Might have to put in a suggestion to Set about that.

Oh, hey! I just heard the spike trap go off so I think someone might be coming. I hope it's one of the muscley ones.
26 July 2006 @ 07:46 pm
Ahh, Egypt. Sun, sand, palm trees, giant crocodile people...

Actually the crocodile guys aren't too bad-they can open beer bottles on their teeth which, believe me, comes in handy. It's the scorpion men. Finding one of them lurking in your boots in the morning wakes you right up.

It was easy enough to afford to move here. Kat and I just followed heroboy around a little scavenging all of the stuff that he left behind. 75 splintered clubs and rusty swords are more than enough to rent a trireme. I might almost consider it as a new career if I didn't have to wade through waist deep drifts of corpses to do it. Talk about a downer. Worse is when they respawn while you're looting them. Very embarrassing. On the plus side, you have their weapons when this happens.

Steve is here! Apparently he died too many times and has been demoted from Beastman Archer to Skeleton Archer which sounds like a bit of a painful demotion. He's quite depressed about it, especially when I told him about what happens to skeleton archers when heroboy is around. He's taken to drink which does him no good as it just ends up in a puddle under his chair.

Calvin came with us also. He left his pig, Lucy, in Greece. Now he has a lizard costume and rides a big dog around. He's named the dog Betty and giggles a lot when he's around her. Frankly, Kat and I are starting to have some misgivings about Calvin. Something is seriously not right in that boy's head.

Haven't found a new job here yet, though I've interviewed a few times. Steve tried to get me on in the tomb that he's guarding but I toured the place and his coworkers are GIANT FREAKIN' MAGGOTS. Just that squishy sound they make gives me the heebies, let alone seeing or smelling the things. I have yet to see the giant flies they must turn into but I'm keeping an eye peeled. Steve says they never make new coffee when they empty the pot in the breakroom so they don't seem to be ideal coworkers.

I also interviewed with some wraiths but they were only looking for more wraiths which, if you ask me, isn't exactly equal opportunity employment. Their job was guarding a giant pillar of rock with a glowy top. Bob, the head wraith, said that if you touched these rocks that they gave you magic powers. They weren't allowed to touch them though. I can read between the lines-this just means that should heroboy come through, instead of just sticking swords in the wraiths he will touch the rock and have magic powers while sticking swords into the wraiths. No thanks. I'm wise to that one.

I'm growing a bit suspicious though-these jobs I'm interviewing for in Egypt? Same company that I worked for in Greece. No fooling. Stand around and guard stuff from heroboy. I begin to sense some sort of conspiracy. I will have to dig deeper.
26 July 2006 @ 07:45 pm
I, Alamanahamburgeronassis, Sorcerer of the Eight Wonder, Eater of Pork, Master of the Chasity Keys, Consumer of Products, Ruination of Kingdoms and King of the Liches do scribe the following testament as my own true words.

I have begun testing the bonds of my enslavement. I have discovered that, though my mandate is to protect the wench's life, even at expense of my own, there is, shall we say, a bit of what they call 'wiggle room', if you will pardon a Liche King's use of the word 'wiggle' as well as excessive usage of commas.

I find that I take great delight in waiting until she has begun an assault on a group of foes and then launching my own assault upon a separate group in order to increase the numbers of those arrayed against her. I have also discovered that I am able to get away with 'not noticing' a massive attack against her by the simple ruse of studying a notable shrubbery in the distance or an admirable piece of wall art in such a way that my back is turned to the conflagration. Occasionally while she is occupied incinerating one group of hapless creatures I am able to draw another group upon my self in such a way that their combined strength overwhelms my constrained might, destroying me and leaving her to fend for herself for a time with her feeble powers.

I believe she may suspect my subterfuge at times. Often after one of my ploys, she will destroy me and then re enslave me. Perhaps she feels that the chains that hold me are weakening? Perhaps she simply wishes to punish me with the pain of dying and bondage. I, who have undergone death so often before scoff at this, though it does produce a bit of a tummy ache.

Fie! I, Liche King, Ravager of Souls and Blight of Holiness have now used the words 'wiggle' and 'tummy' in a single testament! I have been in the wench's presence too long! Her obnoxiously saccharine vocabulary has begun to corrupt me.

She continues to be a source of both admiration and disdain to me. Admiration, as she is willing to backtrack great distances in order to seek out some small area of countryside where there may be beings for her to slaughter. Her bloodlust is truly impressive and utterly unquenchable. I believe that her penchant for genocide is actually what causes her minuscule powers to grow. I understand this lust for power and her greed for treasure. However, I have learned that when she allows my powers to grow, she does so at the expense of her own. Fool! Had I lungs I would burst them with laughter.

We have just finished a systematic rape of the treasures of Egypt. I am sure that years from now, scholars will open these tombs and bemoan the fact that their treasures are lost. She has despoiled and defiled every tomb she was able to find, even breaking open the sarcophagi of the great pharaohs of old, defiling their final resting places in order to strip them of their treasures and beggar them in their afterlife. Can you wonder at my tinge of admiration for her?

Now we travel through a distant land, slaughtering Neanderthals by the score. They give little monkey like squeals of confused pain as she rips them apart and this delights me. Years from now, scholars shall wonder at the demise of the Neanderthals, never realizing that their extinction was at the hands of a single maniac.

Apparently we are carving our path of death towards the land of China. I hear they have good noodles.
26 July 2006 @ 07:44 pm
I, Alamanahamburgeronassis, Warden of the Cackling Fungi, Keeper of the Breath of Dawn, Lord of the Posterior Wastes, King of the Liches and Despoiler of Rabbits do scribe these words as my own.

I have begun to study the wench that enslaves me, seeking signs of weakness that I might exploit. She is very curious in her habits. And I must admit a grudging respect for her sheer bloodyminded psychopathic genocidal tendencies. She slays anything and everything she comes across. Everything. Our explorations are marked by a swath of slaughter that impresses even me! She also has the rather disgusting habit of looting the corpses of anything that may be of value. I am not sure why she does this. She collects bag after bag of weapons and armor and sells them all to the groveling humans in whatever ridiculous little pastiche of civilization we stumble upon.

After seemingly draining the town of every coin it must possess she leaves to refill her bags. I have yet to see her spend a single one of these coins. Why does she collect them? Does she owe ransom to someone? Student loans? She certainly has acquired a large enough fortune to retire by now.

She will also, mysteriously, take occasional trophies from the beasts she slays-a mangy feather, perhaps, or a bit of turtle shell. She seems to value these even more highly than the weaponry as she hoards them and never sells them in the towns. Once, after we had had amassed a 3 foot wall of dozens of corpses about us, she sorted through all of the many things they had possessed. What did she take from the battle? A single tooth from a bat. I am in the service of a madwoman. I even once saw her squeeze some of the ooze from a gigantic maggot and save it. Gods only know where she keeps it or to what purpose she plans to put it.

I have gained a grudging respect for her in some regards. Slaying anything that moves, depopulating entire countries and looting all of the corpses? If this is the hero that 'good' sends against us then I seem to have misjudged the forces of good.

I still chafe at the bonds of my enslavement. There are times when she seeks out tombs to rob and pits me against my own former subjects. The treachery! I am forced to destroy all whom I once commanded, am forced to see the looks of puzzlement, sadness and confusion in their glowing liche eyes as I blast them to fragments. While I confess that, being the master of pure evil that I am, this is in many ways quite satisfying it irks me that I am doing it by force rather than by choice.

I believe her to also be a drug addict. She is constantly drinking vials of liquids and I believe they may have hallucinogenic properties. We spent one afternoon slaughtering hundreds of rabbits in a field. From things that she said I deduced that she believed them to be 'giant crocodile people'. Madness!

I have detected a further weakness, however, in addition to her continually letting my power grow. Occasionally she comes across some sort of shrine that seems to greatly increase her pitiful powers for a short time. When she does so, she re enslaves me so that my power is even greater than before! Soon the combination of the two will make my might greater than her own and then, oh yes, then we shall see! I shall wear her entrails for all time and use her skull as my chamberpot!
26 July 2006 @ 07:40 pm
I, Alamanahamburgeronassis, Keeper of the Three Seals, Guardian of the Northwest Gate, Lord of the Obstinate Weevils, 9th Initiate of the Secret Knowledge of the Incontinent Monkey, Evil Sorcerer Supreme and King of the Liches, do hereby scribe these, my own words.

Lord, it's a bother having to start every testament like that. In any case, I understand that Alamanahamburgeronassis is a bit of a mouthful. Call me Al.

I scribe these words to lament my prsent situation. I, mightiest of the Liche Kings, most powerful of the evil sorcerers, have been enslaved. First, allow me to divulge some history.

It all seemed like a good idea at the time-the mortal body inevitable fades. What a loss to such might! Such power! How could I allow myself to simply fade into eternity? Not lightly, I tell you. And then I espied that magazine ad; you know the one: “NOT READY FOR DEATH? Become a Liche King! Mungo the Evil's easy 5 step program is guaranteed or your money back. Order now and receive a free evil purple robe and a jar of skull polish, a 199 gold piece value!”

All went well for the first millenia or so-being a Liche King is pretty easy. You tell this liche to stand there and guard that chest, those liches to stand over there and guard that other chest. In between giving orders all I had to do was float around and look sinister. Very empowering. And then one night it all went wrong.

As I floated, lording over my minions, practicing my evil glow, I was suddenly pulled away. Darkness swept up around me, pulling me, engulfing me, sucking me through time and space to emerge in some flea infested little town. Enslaved! I was now the pawn of some trumped up little hussy with a second hand staff and a motheaten tunic. How could this be? She had a mere fraction of my power! Yet somehow, her spell of enslavement constrained my own might, diminishing it into a feeble and pale reflection of my full glory. Where had she learned such sorceries? And then the mystery was solved! Sticking out of her pocket was a pamphlet, the title of which read-”NEED A MINION? Receive your very own Liche King! Mungo the Good's easy 5 step program teaches you all you need to know to command your very own undead dark sorceror...

Betrayed! If I ever come across that Mungo guy I will torture him for a thousand eternities! And then request my money back.

Through careful observation I have come to the secret knowledge that the hussy is a fool! As her feeble powers grow she in turn unlocks more and more of my former might. For every rank of power she gains I in turn gain 3! At this rate I shall soon overtake her candleflame of magical abilities and then, oh yes, then we shall see who is the slave and who is the Liche King!
26 July 2006 @ 07:39 pm
Me again.

Well, after the last incident I went to my centaur manager and complained. I pointed out that with guys like heroboy running around the countryside that it just wasn't safe standing around a loot chest with a small group of guys. I wanted a much better benefits package, preferably with very good health care that includes 'spear through the head' coverage, and wanted to be in a less dangerous position. He took my words to heart and transferred me to the Lower War Camp. My new job title is technically "Beastman Archer #1422" but my boss said I should just go ahead and keep my #783 ID card. Easier than making a new card, I suppose.

Now this was the life! No more cold windy nights in the bushes hoping to not get killed-now I'm at the heart of an army! Big tents, warm fires, they even gave me a little piece of rock with part of a lightning bolt carved on it as a good luck charm. Supposedly it's magical but I think it's broken.

My posting couldn't be better. Five other archers, a dozen axeguys, two or three lardos, two shaman and a little guy named Calvin that rides a pig around. We're upwind of the undead camp, which you'd better believe is a very good thing, though sometimes the zombies get lost and come wandering through going 'GRAAAAA! URRRRRG!'. Usually we just spin them around so that they're lurching back in the right direction but sometimes Calvin likes to draw little moustaches on them first.

I even started dating a blue cat girl. Her name is Margie but she makes everyone call her Kat because she thinks it sounds more mysterious. I think it's pretentious, but whatever. I could watch her clean herself for hours and the things she does with my horns! The hairballs are a bit of a turn-off though.

It all went wrong, of course. Heroboy showed up. Yes, the same damn guy that ruined my last posting. We saw him hit the catgirls first. He went through them like a lawnmower. We could see them from our camp, flying through the air; bouncing off of cliff faces, landing in the tops of trees. He hit Margie so hard he knocked her into the next map area.

"But surely," I thought, "he's no match for the entire beastman army!"

It was all a bit embarrasing in hindsight. I mean, here we were, assembled in full beastman strength ostensibly for the ravaging of Greece and they send one guy. One. And that was enough! Because, frankly, we got our butts handed to us. The entire army, moustachioed zombies and all. He came through waving around what looked for all the world like a freakin' spider leg. He'd touch someone with it and then run on. A few seconds later they'd say "Oh, my!" and fall over dead. And so he went, just running merrily around, poking people with the spider leg and cackling as they keeled over behind him. I swear the bastard was skipping.

He even stole my rock from me.

I think I'm done with Greece. It's just not safe here. I want to find Kat when she respawns and move somewhere far away from here where it's safe from heroboy. Somewhere warm and sunny.

Egypt maybe.
26 July 2006 @ 07:26 pm
Me Geezod. Me Beastman

Actually I don't talk like that, it's just that folks have certain expectations of Beastmen. And my name is actually Mark. I got a gig recently as 'beastman archer #783'. It seemed like a pretty sweet deal at the time. Just stand around in the woods with a few other beastmen guarding a chest. I thought it funny that the gear in the chest was better than the crap we were issued but we still weren't allowed to use it. One of those rules that some centaur clerk pushed through I suppose.

I was with a pretty good group of guys. There was another archer, named Steve, and we had a couple of shaman-one was a fire guy and one was ice which really just meant that they stood around arguing a lot about which of them got laid more. There was a big lardo guy whose job it was to try and tank for the archers and he had 3 or 4 guys with axes to back him up.

Things were great until some damned hero came through.

Now ideally, Lardo and the axeboys were going to keep him busy while Steve and I filled him full of arrows and the shamans would keep everybody healed. Pretty standard battle plan honed by years of testing.

Apparently heroboy hadn't read the battle plan. He charged straight past Lardo&co. and stuck an axe in the ice shaman's head. Fire shaman got off a single heal spell before getting the same treatment.

Heroboy then turned and went to work on Lardo. He didn't seem much concerned with Steve and I at first-seems the axe guys annoyed him more than the arrows. I must confess that it was a bit demoralizing seeing him turn and hit Steve with a club and sending him flying 20 feet through the air to crack against a rock and then go spinning off over the cliff. Think that was about when I snuck out of there. I figured heroboy wouldn't notice if one archer went missing and it didn't seem he was planning on leaving anyone around to report my desertion.

I followed him briefly, wading through kneedeep piles of broken gear that he hadn't bothered looting. I must admit that the group of skeletons was actually highly entertaining. It was great watching them fly through the air, bones raining down across the countryside.

And then a great mystery happened. Heroboy suddenly disappeared. All of the gear laying all over the landscape vanished and all of my friends suddenly came back to life, which was awesome since Steve still owed me 5 gold from a game of Mycenae Hold 'Em. The great words of the gods appeared in the sky:


Let's see how that bastard does coming through here again.