My Champion, Keen, has grown into a fine Man capable of handling himself in even the most dire circumstances. Outfitted with what is probably the best gear I can get him for his level and skilled enough to kill faster than the camps of orcs respawn it is with satisfaction that I give him a rest until retail release when he will once again take over as my main character. A few nights ago I was faced with the decision of which class/race combination my primary alt will be. Thinking it over for a few hours and trying out various combinations in the very beginning newbie areas to receive some sort of inspiration I came to the conclusion that my answer was right in front of my nose. I have for some time been a fan of the little folk in online gaming, what with my name being Keen and all. What better choice than a Hobbit named Mean Keen? Now the choice of class lay before me and it wasn’t too bad. I like to kill things and I like to solo with alts. Guardian? Nah they don’t kill fast enough. Burglar? Graev is a Burglar and I played one in closed beta. My natural dislike for playing a healer class after WoW(I was a Healadin) lead me to the Hunter.
So here I sit before you, Mean Keen the Hobbit Hunter, preparing to set off on a new adventure in Middle-Earth. Sit back and have a nice long smoke of the finest crop in all the Shire as I recount my first tales of adventure in the Shire.
Having finished the training portion of the game I find myself in the beautiful and quiet Shire. There exists no other place in all of Middle-Earth as serene and relaxed as the land of Hobbits. Located just east of Bree-Land and south of Ered Luin this peaceful glen is the start of a wonderful adventure for Mean Keen.
As I arrive in Michel Delving fresh from my adventure in Archet there are many fellow Hobbits offering me the opportunities to earn my keep. Taking their leads I head off into the center of town where my first stop is to find the Mayor. The Mayor of Michel Delving is a plump fellow who has his problems, but who doesn’t? He informs me that his humble town needs the aid of an adventurer and I reply that there is none better than I and his needs shall be met with swift action. Gathering all the information that I need from the Sheriff it’s no wonder the poor Mayor put on a little weight – who wouldn’t under all this stress?
Roaming the small town of Michel Delving it becomes aparent that I am exactly what this town needs. Interviewing several towns folk and performing small tasks like finding hiding youngin’s I begin to set my mind on the larger issues at hand. With all that is on my plate I decide to take a load off in the local tavern. Ahh, the Bird and Baby. No finer place in all the western Shire for a mug of fine beer. Just as I began to think things were too good to be true, they were. The tavern owner informed me of his lost recipe and the importance of having it returned to him. Well… I found children playing Hide and Go Seek and I closed up the holes of Biting shrews so how difficult could this be? Fine, I’ll do it!
Deciding that this place was never going to let me run free I quickly visited my trainer. An older chap who knew a thing or two about a bow and arrow. He taught me a few things that I could put to great use in my adventures not far off. Next stop, Waymeet! Curses I forgot to sell these shrew pelts. Perhaps I will find a vendor along the way.
Slowly making my way down the main road, and I say slowly because as you know shrew pelts are very heavy, a farm in the distance catches my eye. Perhaps a farmer is in need of an adventurer such as myself. Having just freed myself from the clutches of a very needy town of Hobbits *mumbles* hide and seeking youngin’s..*mumbles* I am craving a challenge suitable to a fine athletic Hunter as myself. Approaching the farm cautiously – hoping to find it overrun with brigands – I notice a little gentleman sitting on the ground near a barn surrounded by chickens. Inquiring why there were so many chickens fluttering about and why he was doing nothing about them I learned that a mean old Rooster was keeping the poor farmer from his chores. A Rooster. Not a brigand. Not a nasty snarling wolf. A Rooster. Well fine I filled holes for an old lady and I’m currently searching for a recipe I might as well help this poor farmer.
I’m informed this rooster will call for help if he notices me collecting eggs from the nests haphazardly scattered throughout the yard. Employing my natural Hobbit-like stealthy skills I sneak around the yard bringing help to this fellow Hobbit. After all, what sort of Hobbit would I be if I did not help another in need. The task proved easier than even collecting eggs should. There is a catch I tell myself.. there must be.
So true to my fate of living a life of irony, “mean” I am not, I find myself delivering eggs for the ‘poor farmer’. A delivery to Tuckborough he says – that should take me through Waymeet! Happy that I will finally be one my way I run off into the horizon with a spring in my step ready for, what I hope, will be my next real adventure in the Shire.
What’s that? You’ve run out of pipeweed? Well then the rest of my story shall have to wait for another time!