Aegthil's guide to Dorf Guardians

I've noticed that my Fool has recently begun a relationship with a dorf guardian (DG), and I have thus been able to observe at close hand the behaviour and habits of this species. Of course, I hasten to add that the relationship between my Fool and the DG is entirely Platonic, and involves no inappropriate physical contact. At least I certainly hope so. My Fool is a fool, no doubt, but surely even he would hesitate before pinching a dorf's bottom.

Please Eru, make it so.

But I digress. I am not here to discuss my Fool disgusting mating habits, but rather to discuss dorf guardians.

Point the first: A dorf guardian actually has to be a dorf. I've noticed many people making this mistake, and trying to pretend that their dorf guardian is actually an elf, or some such poofy race like that. Nope. Can't be done. Elves are wimpy pathetic little piles of horse turd, and wimpy pathetic little piles of horse turd can't be guardians. Obviously, I'm talking only of MALE elves here. Elf ladies, especially the ones that like to party, can be quite a lot of fun, even if not particularly cheap.

Point the second: As a corollary to the first point, a dorf guardian is short, hairy, and above all, ugly. That is ugly with a capital F. Again, I've noticed a lot of wanna-be dorf guardians making this mistake also. They dress in fancy clothes, expensive cloaks, nice hats, shiny shoes, and all that paraphernalia, desperately trying to look good, to look cool, to look as if they really weren't a dorf guardian. But this is merely pissing against the wind. When you're a dorf guardian you are ugly, and there's no point in self-delusion.

Point the third: Dorf Guardians have to use axes. When do you ever see a real dorf guardian with a wimpy-arse little dagger? Or a poncy elvish sword? Never, that's when. Nope. No way. Guardians who use those kinds of instruments are merely opening themselves to ridicule, and I'm happy to oblige. Honestly, a great big hairy ugly dorf guardian holding a wee baby's dagger? I don't think so. Time to grow a pair, Mr. Dorf Guardian, and stop being a girl.

Point the fourth: Dorf Guardians are not girls. This is so obvious I hardly even need to say it, but some people are effectively brain dead. Then they play the pipes. I've noticed this.

Point the fifth: Dorf Guardians have a lot of special attacks that they can use with their manly manly axes. Or possibly their dorfly dorfly axes. But they can only use these special attacks once they get a certain amount of stuff which is called Furiosity. DG's build Furiosity by yelling out special rude words while they are fighting, and possibly by singing special songs. These special rude words are very rude and I can't repeat them here because of my many lady fans with delicate ears, but trust me, they are very rude. The louder you shout these rude words, the more Furiosity you get for your special attacks.

The Special Attacks:

1. One attack is called the Whirling Thunder Strike, and it hits things in front of you with your dorfly dorfly axe. You can only do the Whirling Thunder Strike once you have shouted out a rude word beginning with C, at a medium volume, and then you can whirl and do your thing. The Whirling Thunder Strike only works with axes, not with poncy swords.
2. Another important attack is the Backwards Special Strike, which is well-named, as it does a special strike which goes BEHIND you and gets the goblin that is creeping up from the rear. The BSS requires 7 Furiosity points.
3. If you miss a special strike you get a bonus item called a Loser Mark, and this bonus item can be exchanged at any skirmish vendor to get special Loser Armour that makes your helmet look like a tree.
4. The final special attack that dorf guardians get is the Head Butt. This might sound like an effective method of attack, and it is, but it is an attack of last resort. It mostly involves ramming your head up a goblin's butt, or possibly a troll's butt. You can only use this special Head Butt attack if you have 35 Furiosity points, and are wearing the Loser Armour helmet with the special tree structure on top, as then it's just like trying to jam a pineapple up the backside of pig, which is something most dorf guardians have a lot of experience with.

So, to all you dorf guardians out there, keep practising those special attacks and very soon you'll turn into a dorf super-guardian, which happens at level 43, and is something to look forward to.

And that brings to an end this installment of Aegthil's guides. All financial conributions to Aegthil, c/o Madame Celestine's, Breetown.

Dumb dorfs

Well, it has been quite the break for my Fool, who has left me to languish in durance vile, while he gallivants around doing this and doing that, but generally paying me less attention than I deserve. I still have not managed to get out of Mirkwood, despite my best efforts. I mean, I have the horse and all, so what, precisely, is the problem, Mr. Fool? Let me out of this damn place. It's gloomy and I really don't give a rat's turd if I finish all the epic quests here.

There's a word for people like my Fool, and it's not a polite one.

I suppose, to be honest, I have got out a bit, as my Fool has made me run around in the Misty Mountains looking for locations for the next moving picture and trying to shepherd mentally retarded dorfs up hill and down dale. Now that's not a job for the fainthearted, let me tell you. What with Bluebonnett and Carica runnning around like moronic chickens with their heads cut off, and Anarwald humming Shire Country Music fit to burst our eardrums, and assorted wargs and goblins, it's quite the party.

And all we had to do was take a dumb dorf up to Goblin Town, kill it off and resurrect it. You'd think that would be easy, yes? Well, don't be so sure. With a party of mental midgets like BBB everything becomes a mission.

After we finally get right up to Goblin Town, the dumb dorf, Beardbreath or some name like that, decides to die by jumping off a cliff. Right on to a ledge that nobody else can get to, and that nobody can reach to resuscitate the hairy twit. Great thinking, hairball. Great thinking.

So the noble minstrel (that would be me) jumps down to the ledge too, to practise his resurrection skills, only to find that "You are not allowed to revive after an instant death".

Well. Up yours.

I mentioned the next moving picture, too, and that's turning into a major job as well for my poor Fool. Trying to organise a million dumb dorfs to do a battle scene is not a trivial thing, not to mention all the writing needed for the BBB Christmas Special.

I'd almost feel sorry for my poor Fool, if he wasn't such an irritating know-it-all self-righteous pompous prat.

Wrenaya: the video. Whew. It's done.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0l2TLnd6_U

Damn, these things are a lot of work.

Yet another conversation

Father: *grumble, grumble*. If Lotro took any longer to load, I'd be too old to play it.

Son: You already are. Oh no. Wait. It's Lotro.

(pause)

Son:  Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.

On Mirkwood matters and foul pink

My Fool has been busy making the latest music video, for Wrenaya. It's almost done, thank goodness, as then I can get back to a normal life. There's only so much of Madame Celestine I can take. My stamina is limited. Maybe Beorlich can help me there... hmmm... not a bad idea. Although I did get to see Wrenaya bathing, which was totally worth it.

Anyway, when I was allowed out I was mostly camping in Mirkwood, to get that lovely black horse. Which, of course, I now have. Beorbrand and Dannigan's Shenanigans will try to claim credit for this, but no way. They are so full of it. I saved their arses so many times with my super powerful healing, they are lucky to be alive. They still exist thanks to me. They should pay me.

Anyway, who would call their son Dannigan's Shenanigans, and then why on earth would he hang out with Beorbrand? I mean, I can see some serious life issues right there. That guy has problems.

Thanks to my Mirkwood efforts I have now reached the exalted level of 67. I think. Maybe 66. Or possibly 68. It's not quite clear, but it's one of those big numbers. Huge numbers. Not huge enough to suit my lavish rock star life style, but getting there. Next time I spar with the nasty piper man he's going to be sitting on the ground in two seconds flat, I tell you. He's looking nervous already, and so he should be.

And not only am I super powerful, I am super handsome with my nice new black horse. Did I mention that before? It's a horse. And it's black. And, oh my word (Gracious!, as Wrenaya would say) isn't it lovely (hic donce heorse sic goerd lukking)?

Almost as handsome as I am. Although I must admit my Fool has forbidden me to wear rose armour. It looked so lovely, and was so distinctive! But my Fool says Rose is not The New Black, he says it is The New POS, which stands for something rather rude so I won't repeat it, and that if he's forced to watch my rear end all day he'll be damned if he watches a foul-arse pink POS rear end, and that is that. No discussion.

So my armour is Back in Black. Fortunately, I'm still super handsome.