Drabble: Valor.

Axe and mace, off. Spilling dirt, dusted. Swept. Out the door. Was that blood on the clods? Trolls’ blood? Yes. Exhausted. And lonely. Not alone. Lonely. The hours in the day were still twenty-four, weren’t they? Did she miss the spell where the hours were extended, elongated, expanded, and exploded? She put the cool cloth next to her puffy eyes. Praised and picked apart all in the same light. She could do no wrong, and she could do no right. But she took care of herself, all by herself today. Made her own friends, and enemies. Half a day, vanished.

Writer's Note: Nine-hundred and eighty valor points in one day is not easy when you're not raiding, going door-to-door for Baradin Holds, or have only so many trolls to kill in so many hours. For some reason, some hair-brained reason, I thought it would be an idea, good or otherwise, to try to get all of the valor points I needed to get my leggings. It was like going on one of those speed-dating nights, I suppose. Leggings: acquired. Capped Valor Points? Almost. Only one more Zul to do, but that will happen before the clock strikes midnight on Tuesday. Damn. I already turned into a pumpkin though.

This is not a fun place to be without my friends, though. 

Ding!

Move to the next table.

Wednesday: 0 WoW: 980

In-valorious Basterds.

Mat woke up from a sheet-soaking nightmare: she was in a beautiful meadow, and a small gnome*, speaking in tongues, told her to go climb a mountain. She started up the path easily, but then as each hoof took another step, the ground began to give way, the dirt crumbling into tiny shaped V's and Ps'...she just couldn't reach the top of Valor Point Mountain.

Okay, okay --it was only a dream. Though her day yesterday was fairly bizarre. The morning was bright and clear, and filled with great conversation and insight. This always buffs her day.

But later, in the evening, trying to do her dungeon-a-day* she pops into Shadowfang. For some reason, she likes this dungeon. It has pretty colors. A guildmate reminds her of an appointment, and for the first time ever - Mat bails.

Well, a worgen curse must have hexed her; when she returns from real-life adventures, she goes into her next dungeon.

You guessed it: Stonecore.

And the tank, sorry to say, was simply not up to the task; we wiped on the first few mobs.

Next up: Grim.

No worries. No problem.

Seven WIPES LATER.

Mat went against her own tenacious, persevering nature and enough was enough. Hooves weren't moving. Dwarf hunter couldn't seem to read DPS score charts. Healer was starting to make herself martinis. And no one knew left from right for the last adds, though Mat demonstrated very clearly by standing here and there what was considered "right" and "left."

Enough.

But, you know what? She's really not that upset. The day started off great. And this day will, too.




*No-you were not the gnome in the dream.
*This is a work of fiction. Mat's human actually dreamed of snakes wearing vests.
*This apparently has changed! Thanks, my friend, for the information.


Theme song: "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" The Clash