//------------------------------// // Food Buffs // Story: A Battleground of Kindness // by StormDancer //------------------------------// Finally. FINALLY something makes sense. All this time the Master has been slowly trying to break me... to deceive me. The Master has been trying to convince me that everything will be fine. I knew it couldn't be that simple... no warlock of her caliber could stand to not torture something, it just doesn't work that way. But now, NOW I see what she has been doing. She has been quietly biding her time, manipulating the mind of this 'Applejack', for surely no one would willingly do the Master's will with such conviction if not for blackmail or the threat of imminent doom. No... certainly not this Applejack. The orange mutant is not a rogue or warrior at all, but instead a monk or paladin of some sort. She never goes without her helm for more than a few minutes, but she is stronger than any monk I've ever seen. She wears no other armor, and her weapon of choice is certainly non-standard, but all that pales in comparison to her idea of 'training' me. Apparently, she is of the opinion that physical labor is the best method of influencing behavior. I have been tasked with picking apples. Of all the imbecilic things to try and break me with, my trainer thinks I will submit to her will by being forced to pick fruit? Hah... she'll be begging for mercy within the hour, wailing about how she ran out of apples before she could break me. Through the window, I've seen the town... and there are exactly 3 apple trees. I only have to listen to Applejack until I've run out of apples... then it's time to kill her. Oh, this is going to be fun. The Master is evil. Today was, perhaps, one of the worst experiences of my time here. Applejack is apparently a very hearty farmer... not even a combatant in the traditional sense. Her 'garden' consists of acre upon acre of towering trees, laden with enough fruit to bury Stormwind City. She arrived early this morning, woke up the death lizard, and escorted me to her farm. Only the Master's direct and explicit warning about following the rules (of which there was a 34 page list) kept me from lighting Applejack on fire. Our arrival was met with no fanfare... instead she ordered me to a large barn of questionable construction, loaded with flammable materials, and directed me to carry a lump of wood which vaguely resembled a bucket. While I struggled under its great weight, she must have felt the need to assert her dominance, for she went to a nearby pile and, with a single kick, flipped no fewer than 8 atop her back before loading them into a cart. I knew it was a beast of burden, I can't imagine the Master would keep the smelly thing around without a purpose, but after loading the eight, she proceeded to load the cart with another few trips. I'm not sure how many she managed to cram into that thing but, by the time we were ready to leave the barn, she had stacked enough to dwarf an ogre. By that point, my one wooden 'bucket' had left me sore and tired but she seemed almost still asleep. I followed her out, quietly flipping through my list of 'do not do this or I will be very unhappy with you's and tried to think of a way to dispose of the rancid pile of horse meat. Unfortunately, the Master is exceptionally thorough. By the time I looked up again, it was almost too late to avoid a very unpleasant collision with her rear end... which, thanks to the wooden frame of the cart, I was spared. After getting back up, I received my first look at the task ahead of us... and there is a very slight possibility that I might have made a few very undemonlike sounds as I surveyed what appeared to be an unending ocean of dark green trees with enough apples to choke Yogg'Saron. The 'farm' is larger than I thought. The 'farm' has hills that make Outland's floating islands seem like low-flying birds. I have very few things in my memory that will ever compare to the torture of this day. Not only does this 'Applejack' seem to have boundless stamina, but she seems to be capable of surviving entirely off the use of apples, apple based products, and nonsensical incantations that include the word 'apple' in them. I am sure of it now, she is some form of bastardized paladin that has, somehow, found a twisted holy power that stems from fruit trees. I would have assumed she were a shaman or druid but for one thing: she is far, FAR too strong to be something that blindly stupid. She doesn't seem to shapeshift, and she, most certainly, doesn't have any totems.... unless this orchard is nothing more than the universe's very own totem farm. That, in and of itself, is a horrifying thought. How she draws power from them is something that I would have looked into if not for one simple thing... ... ... ... I may just kill myself if I ever have to touch an apple again. I have no idea how long we were 'bucking' apples, and in all honesty, I don't want to. What I do know is that when she told me it was time for a break, I was all too happy to oblige. I ran as fast as I could, Rule 214 clearly stated that I "must follow any, and all, instruction 'Applejack' (or her family) gave." Following Rule 214, I did the best that I could to make a break for it. I hurled a few bolts of fire, phased, tried to singe magic, ANYTHING, to get away. It didn't work. She dodged the bolts, batted away the cauterization, and didn't even flinch when I tried to singe her magic. She even caught up to me, on foot....hoof....whatever when I was phased! There is no way that she isn't some kind of well-trained, secretly held, private elite creature that the Master is holding for her eventual takeover. I was so intent on getting away and avoiding her wrath (she apparently was not pleased with the fire igniting a few of her trees) that I wasn't looking when I ran straight into something large, and hard, enough to lay me flat out. The next few moments are still a bit of a blur in my mind. I remember blinking as I looked up, seeing the nauseatingly blue sky, only to suddenly smell the rancid barn-stink of my tormentor. Next, there was some screaming, though I'm not sure if it was her or me, followed by pain as whatever I'd run into finally caught up with me. My head was throbbing, my body already sore to the point of weakness, and the screaming wasn't helping in the least. And then.... that's when I realized that the thing I had run into wasn't another accursed apple tree. The thing moved. This enormous, red, wall frakking moved! I was so startled that I barely even heard the cesspool of sweatstink say "Big Mac, Don't let 'im get away!" And then the wall landed on my chest and pinned me with all the finality of the Black Temple falling onto an orphanage full of crippled kittens. I was returned to the Master some time later. I don't want to talk about it. The Master is Evil. The Orange thing is Evil. The Red Thing is... I don't know. If the Legion had a few of them, we wouldn't have needed the orcs. When the Master saw me, she smiled a bit. I didn't know whether I should run to her and hide or hide from them both. The Master has defended me before, and she claims she just wants to know things about me, but I still haven't found the dungeon or the hidden cache of torture devices she must have somewhere... but I know what smiling means for warlocks. Ultimately, I started whining until she flinched and told me to "Stop That!" like she does sometimes. I was almost home free! And then the Applejack 'paid' the Master for my 'services'. I've been staring at that payment for the last two hours since the Master fell asleep. It's sitting there, on the table. Mocking me. Reminding me. Making silent promises to me about what happens if I misbehave. The basket of apples is a warning. The Master has a general who specializes in psychological warfare.