Legacy of Oblivion

I’ve been doing some general investigation of websites kept by other Aggramar guilds. The uber guilds follow an interesting trend - all their websites seem to do is keep a running tally of their awesome exploits right on the front page. One short blurb accompanies the picture of Dead_Uber_Mob to congratulate every awesome uber person in their uber guild of an uber job well done,with promises to keep the uber lewts flowing. Their websites are sparce and utilitarian; their message boards eerily silent, save for the unguilded masses who wish to join their ranks. These guilds don’t need message boards - their uber trophies posted on the front page tell a person all they need to know about the guild: They are all bad motherfuckers, and not to be trifled with.

We are not one of those guilds.

We don’t mean to be misleading or confusing - although it’s hard to know our many amazing in-game exploits, since they are rarely boasted posted. If you have come to this website looking for more information on all of the many awesome things Legacy of Oblivion has accomplished, this post has been created just for you.

I now bring you the many amazing exploits of Legacy of Oblivion.

/cue dramatic music

Legacy of Oblivion has embraced TBC, venturing forth into the new lands to kick ass and take names.

Were I to post every picture of every uber thing we have killed in the past few months, the post would go on and on forever. So here are some pics Autumnwolf emailed me because I’m a slacker who hasn’t been screenshotting anything highlights.

Aeonus was overwhelmed by the might of Legacy of Oblivion in an instance where the walkthru claimed it was going to be so hard we’d be crying for our mommies, omg!

It wasn’t.

After we found many of the TBC bosses to be lacking in difficulty, we set our sights on some of the horrors that plague our server.

This particular kill would never have happened without some of the most amazing teamwork in the game. Follow this play-by-play action to discover our secrets of killing one of the most terrifying creatures in all of Aggramar:

I wasn’t about to let this offer get away.

Now, visitor, I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced the bond of true friendship so let me tell you a little secret: A true friend accepts your cold, hard cash and kills someone for your enjoyment.

Arcadi is what I call a true friend, and a stand-up kind of guy. We did have some difficulties, though.

But we were determined.

Congrats to us on a very successful kill. If you are looking for this kind of teamwork and friendship, Legacy of Oblivion is the guild for you.

Next up on our trophy wall: Matelda’s Dignity.

Matelda’s Dignity wasn’t so much a guild event as it has been everyone taking a turn soloing it every night. It respawns after a few minutes or so, and this way everyone’s been able to go at it. No loot, but plenty of personal satisfaction. Congrats everyone on a job well done!

Next up on our wall of fame: RIP Good Taste

This was actually a very sad day, and we’re currently looking for anyone who can give good taste a rez.

But don’t despair - when LoO gets together, there’s entertainment a’plenty!

If there’s one message I would have you take away from this post, it would be this: Our guild is about teamwork and friendship. When we come together to pwn, we drop everything to help each other out.

Almost.

Otherwise, we are committed to be friends from now until the end of time.

And by “end of time,” we mean “until you start getting that weird nervous tick.”

Join now, and many amazing perks will become available to you, including great deals from Thundrax in the Auction House –

You’ll buy his stuff or else.

To join, you need not have any special gear, or any set talent build that we command. Just come as you are, and bring your own brush.

He’s kidding. He could use a good brushing.

What else do you have to lose? Join LoO today and those pesky PUGS can stop getting you down.

I know you’re asking yourself: How in the world do I get in on this amazing offer? Why, it’s simple! Speak with our guild leader. You can tell he’s the leader of this elite crew by the awesome gear he’s sporting.

And he’s not leering at you as if he’s ready to steal your soul, he’s just friendly. The horns mean nothing.

The belt might, though.

And now for your moment of Zug:

Special thanks to AW for the extra screenshots.

He ducked. Inches above his head, the dragon’s tail sliced through the air with a hiss followed by the faint tinkle of scales rubbing together. Two swords quickly returned to the ready position and answered the attack, slamming against the dragon’s neck. It screamed in rage and backed up quickly, but he followed, wading through the pile of corpses at his feet.

Two dragon whelps swooped down the nearby hallway, heeding the call of the retreating dragon and flanked the warrior on both sides. Flames flickered on the tips of their tongues as they prepared to attack. The warrior laughed quietly. They were nothing to him, and after the quick work of his swords, they would be even less.

Stepping back from the dragon, one sword sliced easily through the first whelp’s neck, severing the head. Both pieces of the whelp fell to the ground with a soft thud. The second whelp fluttered through the air, its small wings somehow maneuvering the creature deftly, but the offhand sword caught it anyway, driving straight through the soft underbelly. Impaled by the sword, the whelp bleated in agony, then slumped over the blade, lifeless.

Frowning, the warrior shook his sword, trying to free it from the dragon whelp. It wouldn’t budge.

The dragon returned, stepping forward hungrily, thinking it could catch its assailant distracted and unaware. The dragon was wrong.

Dodging another attack from the tail, the warrior quickly righted himself and slammed his free sword into the dragon’s neck. Scales finally broke free from the muscular, serpentine neck and gave way to the weapon of the warrior. Blood streamed down its scales and trickled down the warrior’s blade. The other sword was quickly forgotten, falling among the dragonkin it had slain, and the warrior slammed a mailed fist into the dragon’s fire-breathing maw.

Roaring, the dragon swung its head back up, yellow eyes blazing in anger. The tail swung through the air again but the warrior jumped away just in time.

New movement in the hallway caught the edge of his eye and he glanced away briefly, long enough to catch a glimpse of his new opponent. Taking full advantage of the distraction, the dragon whipped its tail around again and hit its mark, slamming into the warrior’s chest.

Grunting in pain, his body slammed into the wall. If the warrior needed to breathe, the force of the blow would have stolen his breath away. Luckily it was not a necessity. Stumbling, he tried to move away, but the dragon charged forward and grabbed him by the neck. A strong, taloned hand lifted him high in the air and slapped his body against the wall again.

Disoriented, his eyes blinked furiously, trying to focus. Whatever had been moving in the hallway was now nearby, and a fuzzy, red-orange ball appeared with it.

The dragon was still slamming him against the stone wall and he couldn’t focus his eyes, but the intense heat let him know the whelp’s fireball was coming near. Squirming in the dragon’s grip, he moved just enough that the fire skimmed his armor and exploded on the wall next to him.

The heat of the fire matched the hot, rank breath of the dragon. Its head came near and a low growl rumbled from its throat. The hand around the warrior’s throat tightened, and he squirmed again, narrowly missing another fireball. The warrior would not accept defeat, but instead decided it would be acceptable to concede that he might be stuck.

“Guys,” the warrior croaked, slamming his sword into the dragon’s arm. His free hand grabbed the wrist that impeded his speech.

His companions were scattered about the room, backs turned to him as they searched through the debris scattered throughout Blackrock Spire. He tried again.

“Guys,” he groaned, slapping the flat of his blade against the dragon’s snout. “Matelda!”

The priest nodded absently and stuck her decaying arm into a tall vase.

“Mmm hmm,” she said. “You’re doing great, Grimvalt. You look great.”

Before the warrior could point out that she wasn’t even looking at him to know the difference, the dragon lifted his body into the air and slammed him against the ground. He groaned.

“Keep up the good work,” Matelda was saying. Her free hand flicked a long, glowing wand over her shoulder and sparkles appeared around him, tickling his nose.

Whatever the spell was, it didn’t help.

The whelp was lobbing another fireball at him, but before it could hit, he pushed up against his feet and arched his back. He could feel the impact as it slammed into the stone floor beneath him, the intense heat threatening to melt his armor.

Yellow eyes met his and saliva dripped from the dragon’s fangs into his face. The great beast was toying with him now, punishing him for the many dragonkin he had killed that night.

“Guys!” He croaked again.

No one was listening.

“Remind me what we are searching for,” said a soft, female voice. Her thin tail swished through the air as she stuck her snout into a tall vase, looking for anything even remotely interesting.

“An orb,” Matelda answered, now digging through a pile of old bones. “A mystical, powerful orb.”

“Ah, yes,” the tauren said, then stood and turned around, noticing the commotion on the far side of the room for the first time. One large eyebrow lifted at the warrior who was trapped under the dragon, alternating between slamming his sword into the dragon’s neck and kicking the dragon’s round gut with a heavily armored boot.

“Help,” Grimvalt mouthed, kicking the dragon. His sword slammed against the dragon’s neck. “Stuck,” he mouthed at her. He kicked again.

The whelp never knew what hit it. The tauren’s hammer disappeared and her form shimmered in an ethereal cloud, transforming her into a sleek cat-like creature. In a flash she was under the dragon’s throat, razor-like claws digging furiously to get under the protective scales.

The dragon reared and backed up, taking Grimvalt with it, dragging him over the pile of corpses. If he hadn’t already been dead, the movement would have snapped his neck and killed him. His sword dug into the dragon’s neck again, the blood from the wound covering his armor.

“For the Dark Lady’s sake, die already,” he croaked.

The druid’s claws grabbed at the wound Grimvalt had already made and ripped the dragon’s throat wide open. The dragon staggered back, stumbling out of reach of the claws, the blood spilling into a large pool. Grimvalt felt the scaled hand around his throat release him and tried to scramble out of the way of the dying beast.

It was too late. With a loud cry, the dragon collapsed on top of the warrior.

An ethereal cloud surrounded the druid, and she was a tauren once more. She looked down at the dead dragon, noting the one mailed hand and long cloak on the floor that peeked out from under the corpse.

A muffled voice accompanied the bloody cloak and wiggling hand. “Thank you, Autumnwolf.”

The tauren nodded, bending down to wipe her bloody hands off on Grimvalt’s cloak. “You are welcome,” she replied.

Nearby, Matelda was still searching the room, talking to no one about the mystical orb she was searching for.

“You know what I mean?” She asked, plunging her arm into another vase.

From under the dragon, Grimvalt groaned. Apparently the priest thought that was acknowledgment because she continued, mumbling to herself about other powerful artifacts she dreamed of possessing.

“Hey guys!” An orc appeared in the doorway, pointing back over his shoulder. “I found something!”

His face fell at the scene in the room. Dragon and dragonkin corpses lay everywhere, and in the center was a very large dragon with one mailed hand desperately trying to wiggle out from under it.

“Hey Grimvalt,” the orc said. “Do you need help?”

The corpse moved slightly and more of Grimvalt’s arm appeared.

“I’m great, Airsk,” came the sarcastic, muffled reply. “Thanks.”

The orc didn’t know too much about sarcasm and turned away. “That’s great,” he said cheerfully. “So anyway, I found something!”

Matelda was still searching through the varied containers in the room. “I care nothing for the bits of junk you keep bringing me. I am seeking an orb of great power, not these bits and pieces of garbage!”

Airsk shrugged, cast a spell, and plopped down on top of the totem that appeared. He seemed content to watch Grimvalt try to struggle out from under the corpse.

“Well,” Airsk continued, “it’s more than you’ve found all night. Besides, don’t you get enough odds and ends to fill your bags? That’s why you joined this organization, right?”

Autumnwolf stood up from wiping her hands. “No,” she said, frowning at one of their newest members. “We are not a mercenary organization who searches the world for money and power. That is not why anyone joins us. Our organization has a very long…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for an honorable, descriptive word. She couldn’t find anything appropriate. “History,” she finished.

Yanking her arm out of a vase, Matelda investigated the dusty object in her hand. When it was determined that it was worthless, she tossed it over her shoulder and plunged her arm back in. “Don’t you mean ‘long and honorable history,’ Autumnwolf?” She asked.

The tauren wrinkled her snout at the priest and raised both eyebrows. “No,” she said, “I do not.”

Grimvalt was still working his way out from under the dragon. With half of his body free, he was able to roll the dragon over and away from him, freeing his legs.

Before the dragon stopped rolling, a strange object fell out from between some of its scales and rolled away. Airsk hopped down off of his totem and grabbed it. Autumnwolf and Grimvalt joined him to take a look at the find. It was a long, organically shaped cylinder with a large, round end where a small hole was cut at the top. The entire object glowed with a strange power.

Airsk frowned at the object in his hand. “It’s a…” He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully and started again. “It’s a magical…”

“Phallus,” Autumnwolf finished for him.

Airsk’s mouth fell open in dismay. “Here,” he said, offering it to Autumnwolf.

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

He tried to give it to Grimvalt, who looked even less inclined to take it. The warrior tilted his head to the side, pointing at his sword. Airsk got the message and stared down unhappily at the magical rod he held.

Matelda turned around. “What? What do you have there?”

“Here,” Airsk offered eagerly, “it’s a powerful magical artifact of power — and did I mention magic?”

Matelda snatched it out of his hand greedily, looking it over. “It looks like…” Her smile faded.

“Yes,” Autumnwolf told her, “we know.”

The four companions stared at the object silently for a minute. Airsk’s brow furrowed slightly as he reached out and ran his fingers along the side of the object.

“Don’t rub it,” Matelda shouted, clearly disgusted.

He pulled his hand back. “It has writing on it,” he said, pointing. “Is this draconic?”

Autumnwolf shook her head. “No, I do not think so, although this appears to be just as old.”

“We should take it to Caulbraen and see what he says,” Grimvalt said, wandering away to retrieve his other sword. “Although I tried getting in touch with him earlier, and couldn’t reach him. Something must be up.”

“Well then,” Autumnwolf said, “we’ll have to look into this ourselves.”

Matelda nodded. “I know just the person to ask.”

In the Legacy of Oblivion circle, emotions are confusing intangibles. One sense can easily be mistaken for another.

Like deciphering General Chat in XR, the ability to discern between love and poop remains an elusive skill. Mixed messages exist only to confuse us.

This epistle is not to chide you, dear friends, rather it is for help that I write so I might provide the knowledge you need to protect yourselves.

Of poop, we already know the characteristics: it has a distinct odor and requires a thorough hand washing after the evacuation process. However, do not be mislead! This does not distinguish between poo and amour as both may result in a good hand washing.

The example listed above is single-player mode. I trust you know what to do in this format. Of this, some of us seem to be rather adept and are always on the lookout for hacks, cheats, walkthroughs, and visuals.

No real danger exists here, unless someone tries to turn what is clearly a single-player encounter into a two-player encounter - beware of becoming the unwilling participant!

Incidents such as these are what I wish to warn you of, and perhaps even arm you with the means to defend yourselves when you do not return their affection. Do not turn a single-player encounter into a two-player encounter!

They may try to convince you through suggestive means.

They may resort to begging.

They may try to lure you by using affectionate nicknames.

Like Koryn, they may even solicit.

He could teach you, but he’d have to charge.

When you become a tasty looking morsel, you must protect yourself, dear friends –

– for you do not know what terrible things lay in store for you in the morning. Although you think you return what might be feelings of love, they may only lead to poo - or worse.

This, my fellow LoOnies, is the heart of the matter.

Terrible things can happen when you hook up with strange elves - as Arachne has discovered.

That’s right. Some night elf hunter named Busterwolf gave Ara teh herpes! The most despicable aspect of the matter is that, according to this elf’s guild site, Pactum Fides, their guild name means “Honorable Pact” or “pact between honorable people.” To be perfectly frank, I’m not sure how honorable a person can possibly be when they go around giving innocent undeads a raging case of herpes! Not that Ara’s decomposing body was so enticing before.

Guard yourselves, LoOnies. And when all else may fail, say no.

Especially to Arachne, because you do NOT want to catch her raging case of herpes.

With that, welcome to the guild Delinia, and welcome back Xerolk and Shae!

And now, for your moment of Zug.

Special thanks to AW and Koryn for the extra screenshots!

His message was broadcast over thousands of miles — across great oceans, over towering mountain ranges and through the vast, arid places of the world. The directive was not audible but resounded in their minds as clearly as if he were standing before them. Willingly or not, the collective thoughts of the organization’s leadership were sucked into a telepathic bubble and forced to listen.

“This is a priority code Alpha! All Officers report to secret base Delta Alpha Tango Picnic!”

What followed was confused and agitated silence, save for the familiar tickle of other consciousnesses.

Perched on top of her totem, Sabe turned to the hunter who stood nearby, leaning casually up against the meeting stone as he watched his pet lizard chase bugs. He looked up at her, raising an amused eyebrow.

“Picnic?” Sabe mouthed at him.

With a grin, Thundrax shrugged and returned his attention to his pet. He had no idea what the voice was talking about, either.

The explanation they were hoping for did not follow and tension grew as silence settled over the telepathic conference. Finally, as if snapping a taut wire, the silence was broken by a voice that sounded as if the scourge had only left him a single vocal chord and it, too, was in danger of rotting off.

“What in the @$#* are you talking about, Zug?”

The garbled word indicated the profanity filter on the Officer Channel was still malfunctioning. Someone would need to look into that.

The original voice came back, explaining as if it were obvious.

“It’s code, Arcadi.”

The priest sounded largely unimpressed.

“Oh yeah? Well, what’s the code for ‘I’m going to give your entire family the @$#*ing Scourge if you don’t shut your pie hole’?”

Thundrax looked up with a wistful expression.

“Mmm, pie,” he said.

Sabe’s stomach growled in agreement. It had been a while since either of them had been treated to the luxuries of civilization. Their recent assignment had living off of bare necessities in the Horde outposts throughout the region. They had been looking forward to a little time off.

Apparently that wasn’t on the agenda. Before the argument between Arcadi and Zug took off, their leader, Caulbraen, intervened.

“We have a situation. For now, you are all being pulled off current assignments until further notice. Get moving to the arranged location and be careful.“

Coming from their leader, it sounded much more urgent. Although he always exhibited an overabundance of caution, the rogue had a keen sense for danger. He never jumped into a bad situation blind.

Arcadi snorted into the channel. “Get moving to where, secret location Picnic?“

Despite the urgent message from Caulbraen that had just been delivered, snorts and laughter filled the channel.

Sabe hopped off her totem as it started to dissipate.

“Where are we going, Thund?” She asked.

Pushing himself away from the meeting stone, he stood upright.

“You heard Zug,” he said, smirking. “We’re going to Picnic. Very dangerous.”

“It’d be better for all of us if he was going to Bath.”

The hunter’s telepathic projection cut through the laughter with a low, scratchy tone.

Meet up at Swamp of Sorrows, in the usual room,” Thundrax instructed.

“That’s what I said!” Zug protested.

The laughter ended and the channel flickered, indicating every other Officer had turned their attention to packing up their current operations and were preparing to move, too.

Sabe whistled. Her wolf mount responded, crashing through of the trees and underbrush, nearly bowling her over. Assuming it meant they were all leaving, Thundrax’s wolf mount followed but was much more well behaved. It stopped alongside its master and waited patiently.

As always, Caulbraen left them with caution.

“You are to speak with no one until you arrive at the location. Should anyone else find out about this before we have a plan, it may cause unnecessary panic, especially among our own. Get moving to the arranged location and be careful. Make sure you are not followed.”

Their mental connection was cut, and the communication ended. The telepathic room released them with a mental snap that felt like a bubble popping.

What do you think this is all about?” Sabe asked, grabbing the reigns of her mount.

Thundrax shrugged and swung himself up on top of his wolf. “Lions, tigers, and bears.”

Hoisting herself up onto the back of her wolf mount, she laughed. “Oh my.”

Nudging their mounts into a run, the two orc appeared as blurs as they cut across the landscape to the nearest transport, not bothering to look for a road.