Postcards from Gameville

My dwarven comrade Kelvalron and I paid a visit recently to King Magni Bronzebeard.

So it’s been a while, but before I finish the Children’s Week story, I need to talk about an issue that I consider important… no, critical to my well-being. Some of you may consider this to be nitpicking, but honestly, it’s not your physiology we’re talking about here. The problem is simple yet alarming: when I sit down, my ass and legs disappear.

No, really, check it:

What in blazes is that?! Just because I’m wearing robes, my lower body becomes a pair of feet that create something for my upper body to float upon? Like I’m somesort of biped/hovercraft hybrid?

And look! You can see snow behind where my ass should be! Not only am I losing body parts, my robe has a hole in the back—which disappears when I stand up, however that happens. I’d say it was a feature if my robe was the product of expert gnomish engineering, but I got it off some human priest who likes to sew in his spare time. And without legs, my hands sink into my robe to rest on… nothing! You can’t even make a raunchily rude comment about this one.

Who do I talk to about this? The priests don’t have a “Rematerialize Lower Extremities” spell. I don’t trust the warlocks to summon something back. And what are the druids going to do? Seriously, I need this fixed, and I wager I’m not the only gnome who does.

Hey there.

Now, I could’ve say something like “Hi, I’m Eifle. I’m a gnome and a mage running around trying to make a living in the world of Azeroth,” but let’s face it: I’m really six feet tall, go by a name that isn’t a purposeful misspelling of a French architect, and I live in California. But hey, we need some frame of reference and suspension of disbelief if I’m not going to refer to my character in some weird sort of first-but-third-person sense. So.

Hi, I’m Eifle, a gnome and mage running around trying to make a living in the world of Azeroth.

/shrug

What’re ya gonna do.

Here’s me. Yeah, my hair’s pink, and I know that’s a stereotype for gnomes. Blame my mom. I think it’s kinda 80s. Certainly the height of my hair suggests tons of hair spray.

Currently I’m allied with the Pirate Penguins, who are less of a formal organization and more of an autonomous collective that get together here and there to delve into forgotten places, commit acts of heroism, drink much in the way of alcoholic beverages, and perform risky experiments in the interests of amusement, such as fighting gnolls in the Wetlands while naked and throwing oneself off of tall instances of geography. Good folks.