I here publish a true and faithful rendering of the first part of the account which I found. I have attempted to reproduce the manuscript as faithfully and accurately as is possible (while still translating it into Westron) so as to preserve what I view as the essential spirit of the manuscript.

—–

Every day I with Master I lurn some new thing. He says it so the language of beasts limiter, that when say “double plus ungood” the minds stay cloudy but Master says I speak quite well. He says writing practices well for speaking and he gives more wuffleberries for each writing page I rite and I can poke a wuffleberry and use that to rite but I eat them two. Master nows because he always nows everything.

I rite about the kas of Jasper Mudbottom and the Stolen Pipeweed. That is what Master calls, he always kass. The people in Stahdul hire Master, they all talk to him, with him, about him. Master very smart, double plus good, but maybe I should not rite that, Master says I should use language of beasts less an I think better.

Master just ask question and he knows solving kass. But this time we get lots exersize and I so hApie. Master says I eat too many wuffleberries so I need more exercise. I chase him over fence, over fence, he goes and forth from old lady with nic plants that Master smokes to the man with the nic dog who is very quiet, but he has fun too and we are all hApie.

Then Master says the solution is an elm tree.

Master meets new people and we go down and get a barrel of smokes and I protect Master from the bad mens and at the end Master gives me wuffleberries.

—–

Literary genus is is not, yet the stories in the journal appear to grow in length and complexity as Whatson masters the Common tongue.

Brubaker, Supreme Master Scholar, Kindred of the Scholar’s Guild

For instance, I have a DPS weapon — a level 65 third age with a legacy that increases the damage of one DoT. I also have a tanking weapon (level 60 second age), one with both of the AoE taunt legacies maxed out. I’ll usually use the DPS weapon, but when I really want to taunt, I’ll build up the Exaltation of Battle gambit, quick-swap weapons, execute the gambit then quick-swap back to the original weapon.

Some day I’ll be lucky enough in the legendary lottery to find a single weapon with the legacies that I really want, but until then I’ll just say bad things about Turbine’s legendary lottery.

Spend your points maxing out one (or two) awesome legacies that’ll really make a difference instead of a whole bunch of legacies that don’t really make a difference. Always max out a legacy before moving on to a different legacy.

Eventually, if you do a lot of skirmishes, you can get your legendary item up to level 70 and you can get every legacy up to tier 6* which will really reduce the number of points required to max out a given legacy, which will basically let you max out all your legacies. But, that’s a lot of work and I’d advise not doing that for a single weapon unless it really has all the legacies on it that you really want.

*Some legacies have the same cost at different tiers, so you may not see a price difference unless going up two tiers — tier 6 is always a price discount over tier 5.

“I must,” I said, “And I will, for I have accepted payment for this mission and you know that I cannot return payment.”

“Then the unstoppable force,” he said, a dry expression on his clean shaven face, “has met the immovable object.  I too have been paid and cannot return payment.”

I smiled, glad to be reminded that my opponent was a man of intellect and that we still both shared the same sense of honor.  It spoke well of our coming battle, that it would be taxing on both mind and body.   “One of us today, for the first time, will have been paid in vain.  Are you ready?”

He held his sword back over his head, poised to swing.  “Whether I am or not, you’ve been more than fair.”  A gesture from his hand brought me swiftly in behind my shield, hoping that I would be sheltered from his words of black sorcery by the love of that one who had paid me, who had bartered with that which was worth more than coin of the realm, who had paid me more richly than any other ever had by giving me no more than her trust.  Whether it was the gift I’d received or an intervention of fate, his thick words found no purchase in me that day.

But it seemed that a quick resolution to the fight was not to be had on either part.  We both knew each other too well — he knew my favored styles and I knew his.  His swing would go too high or too low, mine went too wide or too close and then we would repeat that again but this time using the others stance.  It was a battle not only of body, of strength, of brawn, but also of intellect.  Our styles changed minute by minute, second by second, probing, striving for supremacy, wrestling to prove superior.

It was a minuet of death, a ballet that would could only result in at least one of us singing a final swan song.  Finally I saw my chance and I managed a swift kick.  In the second that pain slammed across his face, I saw my advantage and stabbed with all my might, with all my power, with all my strength, with all that I was, strong in the trust I bore.

We were both masters, that I knew, that I’d known, known for years.  In our days we’d served together as mercenaries, side by side, unlikely partners but stronger together for the differences between us.  A chance engagement had split us and we found ourselves working for opposing employers.  As the years passed and our ideologies grew ever more distant, we’d made a clean break of it.  He’d gone his way.  I’d gone mine.  But I knew then that we would face again someday, for how else could the fates intervene than to have me someday fight against my own… But I find my pen shaking.  The words are curiously growing dim as though I seem to peer through a watery mist.  It breaks my heart and I cannot say that I fought my own…

[[I do have some pictures for this fight, but this new post editor will not let me add them to the post.]]

Here they are, for your viewing enjoyment. I reccomend clicking on each one to see the large picture, downloading each, then you can load them both up and Alt-Tab back and forth to see exactly how it changed.

Ultra High Graphics SettingsAnd now for some sort of text to set the two pictures off because the post editor doesn't actually look like the post and the captions would be off otherwise...Very Low Graphics Settings

Very Low Graphics Settings

No, not the one on the right, the roan on the left.  See, there’s already a grey/white horse in the game.  There’s already a black horse, a chocolate horse, a palomino, a blond sorrel, there are several types that are already in the game.  So I tried to design something new, something that I (at least) and other people (possibly) would want to get, like that roan.

That was probably too red — it looks like it spent too much time in the sun and now has a terrible sunburn.  Eh, you win some, you lose some.

Where was this picture taken from?  Post a comment to this, then send me a private message somehow (either here, to my forum account, using the in-game mail system).  Use coordinates — something like, “In teh LotRO world” isn’t nearly specific enough.  I’ll send a gold to the winner.

Click on the picture to see the full thing.  There should be some clues in there, such as a particular creature and the rough topology of the place that might help limit your search.  Of course, you’re going to have to be a member of the Landroval server to receive your prize.  If nobody gets the location correct by roughly 8:00am PST 05 September, then I’ll pick a random winner from the comments.  So, even if you don’t know where the location is, post a comment — you might win.

Watcher Cardoon Beckons Me Over

“Hey,” he called, “Brubaker.  The Mayor wants to see you.”  That sounded a little serious.  I mean, I hadn’t really spoken with the Mayor.  True, I grew up in Bree, but how often does a person meet the Mayor?  I’d talked to him a few times before — once when putting a shade to rest that had been haunting the black rock and once when… well, I couldn’t remember another time actually.  Maybe I’d only spoken with him once before.  I decided that the situation probably warranted speed.  Summoning my horse, Gulliver, I rode to the Mayor’s office.

I went inside.  Was this about, I mean I’d never heard anything about it, but it had been years ago, I’d just been a kid.  I mean, sure, a few people slipped in the apples that lay across the street, and some things fell out of a few wagons, but nobody had been seriously hurt and, you know, years ago?  Just a kid?  Although, I was still a little proud of that.  Do you know how difficult it is to walk down the streets of Bree carrying a full bushel of apples, let alone get up onto the roofs like I did?  Surely he wasn’t about to chastize me for that, hopefully.  Then the Mayor looked up from his plans at me.  “Brubaker, I just wanted to thank you.”  “Thank uhm me,” I stammered, “Why?”  “Haudh Iarchith, Brubaker.  From this day forth, when you are among the Men of Bree, you shall be known as Brubaker Redford, the Executioner of the Wicked.  Thank you.”

Well, I don’t think I have to tell you how relieved I was to hear that.  So this didn’t have anything to do with any apple incidents that had happened as a child.

“And after that apple incident, amongst others, you have grown into a credit to Bree and we are proud to call you an Ally.”  Oops, well, I guess he had known.  He was the Mayor, after all — after filling his job for so many years, I could see that not much would slip past him.  At least this story had a happy ending.

Rohan has been talked up for a long time, all about what “mighty horsemen” they are – it’s really grown to epic proportions in the minds of many.  The reality will likely disappoint many and if I were a dev, I’d want to push that off as long as I could.