My Name Is Bait. Perfect Bait.
Why oh why must I keep falling for these traps?
It wouldn't be so bad if they were subtle or particularly clever. But they're NOT. They're obvious, blatant traps, and I keep charging right into them!
Case in point: I'm out on the frontier, be-bopping around (as only a level 35th Theurg who knows that a strong breeze will kill him can be-bop). And what to my wondering eyes should appear? A tiny kobold who cons green quite clear!
He sees me and turns and hoofs it over the hill. So what do I do, being the brilliant tactician I am? WHY, CHARGE BLINDLY FORWARD, OF COURSE!
Sigh. Honestly, if I had the brains of a rabid yak I would be better at this. I don't even get the chance for a really good warcry - I come over the hill and there's like one, two, six BILLION Mids waiting for their turn at putting pointy things into my face.
Now, even the most wizened veteran can make a simple mistake, so this wasn't really that big of a deal. No, the way I made it into the ranks of the "Most Feckless Adventurers Honors Club" was by instantly hitting my spell bar when I saw the enemy! Which spell did I cast, you ask? Did I unleash a group of terrible earthen spirits upon them to wreak havoc? Did I blast them with gusts of wind to confuse them and leave them stunned while I made good my escape? Did I freeze them to the ground with a powerful field of ice allowing me to flee unharmed?
Nah. I did, however, manage to cast my damage add. Yeah, I hadn't changed spell bars. And instead of the sprint key, this bar had an emote for making me RAWR. After that, I mashed keys until a dwarf ran up and headbutted me in the groin to death.
So basically, what the Mids saw was a brave Theurg charge over the hill, stop, RAWR at them, run around in circles for a few times, jump up and down, a groin shot from a dwarf, followed by him collapsing in a whimpering pile, clutching his bruised ego. Yeah. I'm good.
This is pretty ridiculous. I spend the entire night just ACHING for a fight. And when I find one, what do I do? The Camelot equivalent of pooping my pants! Well, no... more like the equivalent of pooping my pants, shrieking like a little girl, running in circles before face-planting into a tree, from which a rabid squirrel falls out of and lands on my face, killing me in one swift bite. Yes, my RvR career is like a badly-written three stooges short. Next time I run into a Mid raiding party, I'll just plant one foot and run around in circles, barking. It'll probably be just as effective.
Oh, I've tried to turn the tables, too. You know, you're grouping with a high-level group, and your scout reports that there's a small group of Mids on the other side of the hill, so you try and come up with a clever attack plan...
You say, "What if we built a large wooden badger..."
Yates thumps you.
Well, they need a sacrificial lamb, someone that can draw the enemy into an ambush. Everyone thinks that means me, because Mids are trained from birth to kick the crap out of me. It's a genetic condition, I believe. While they're infants, they are beaten with sticks carved to look like me. This has the effect of making them all believe all of their life's troubles are caused by me. Which is not true, of course, as everyone knows that all of life's troubles are caused by a little man named "Peters" that lives in my floorboards. I yell at him often, but sometimes the neighbors get nervous and do such crazy things as having me evicted....
Wait, what was I talking about? Oh, right, Mids abusing me. So anywhoots, I charge over the hill, ready to do the wounded duck dance and lure the Mids back to their doom.
Only the Mids, see, being the utter bastiches they are, refuse to follow the script. I don't know, maybe it was written in big words or something, but they're not having anything to do with it. Not only do they NOT follow me, but they COMPLETELY break with direction and mez me in place, then running up and collapsing my skull with the slightest tap of their croquet mallets. Honestly, I've seen pimples popped with more dignity.
But my humiliation doesn't end there - after I die, while I'm lying there, being as effective in RvR as a corpse as I am alive, I get a message from someone that saw my death message. I of course assume it's someone being smart from the group I was playing bait for. When they ask me where I died, I begin cursing at them and telling them what I think of them. They get offended, and ask what my problem is. I relent - I mean, hey, maybe there was some confusion over how far down the next hill I died or something. Who knows? So I shoot off my location.
It turns out this was NOT someone from my group at all, but a random passing cleric and his mercenary buddy thinking they were about to do a good deed. Instead, I have just succeeded in luring them to their rather embarrassing deaths.
Well... you have to admit... I DO make good bait, in a way...
