Hallow's End Costumes

I was kind of looking forward to Hallow's End. The treats. The tricks. The kiddies, throwing eggs at the Alliance. It's a great time of year. But one of the best things about it is the chance to dress up in fabulous costumes. That was what I was looking forward to the most.

But my excitement didn't last long. The array of costumes bestowed on me by the innkeepers left something to be desired. I didn't even BOTHER taking photos of the little demon robot they turned me into, nor the little wormy thing. Too embarrassing! And what's with turning me into a kitten? I mean, please.

I did, however, capture this oft-seen phenomenon - the pumpkinhead:

Even though you can't see my face, you can guess how amused I am by this.

And bat form? Not really sure that suits me either.

But if you want something really bad, look at the outfit I picked up from the innkeeper at K3:

Umm. Now just what is that supposed to be? A ninja who's been in a fight with someone wielding a samurai sword and had half of her clothing hacked off? A pirate wearing a bandit mask so she won't get caught raiding the till at a strip club? A thief who distracts her mark with a clever display of pasty muffin top that blinds them while she steals their watch?

Awful. Pirate Ninja Ho costume. It's like Lady Slyvanas is having a Hen Do and this was what we had to wear.

And look at this - the rear view:

As if it wasn't bad enough as an outfit, the cheap fabric this costume is made out of is actually hugging some kind of cellulite situation! As you can see, Konlos is leaving a few extra paces between me and him. He always tell me to love myself the way I am, but Hallow's End costumes just do NOT seem to be an improvement on my usual look and there's no hiding from it.

Barf.

An audience with the Headless Horseman

In between appointments to terrorise villages in WoW starting areas, we managed to catch up with the darling of the Hallow's End season, the Headless Horseman himself.

Bellzebelle: Good afternoon, Headless. Is it all right if I call you Headless?

Headless Horseman: You call me Headless because that's my name, but I prefer Mister Horseman, if it's all the same.

BB: Right. Mister Horseman it is. I'm loving the armour. Who's your blacksmith?

HH: I get my plate from this chap I know, an armour maker down Savile Row. He does fine work but I have to say, his colour palettes make me look a bit gay.

BB: A bit gay? Well there's nothing wrong with being gay, Mister Horseman. This is the modern age. Besides, I think pale purple really suits you. Anyway, let's move on. What are your thoughts on sinister squashlings?

HH: They make funny noises, they follow me about - and if I'm honest, they creep me out. With his spindling vines and his gappy smile - I think mine might be a paedophile.

BB: You think your pumkpin is a paedophile? Mister Horseman, you do have some very odd views. Plus, there's the whole speaking in rhymes thing. What's with that?

HH: Ever since my childhood days, I've found myself speaking in flowery ways. I love to rhyme and play with words - course not as much as I like chasing birds.

BB: What are you talking about?

HH: You may be a poet and just don't know it.

BB: What - me? I don't think so.

HH: You do yourself down, you shouldn't be shy - you may not rhyme but you've caught my eye.

BB: Are you hitting on me?

HH: With your platinum hair, you're a fetching Belf - you'd make a fine wench for such as myself. HAHAHAHAHA!!

BB: Now, Mister Horseman. I know that I am one of Azeroth's most eligible single ladies and no one blames you for trying. And I'm sure many less educated ladies have fallen for the questionable charm of your somewhat cheesy verse. But I have certain standards I look for in a man. And one of them is... you know... that he must have a head.

HH: I have no head, but I have a helm, and his craft as a suitor will not underwhelm. I've been torturing animals all of my life - that can't last forever, it's time for a wife. Come with me, ride into the dawn and we will create our headless spawn!

BB: Are you serious? Oh my god this interview is so over.

Someone get this guy a coffee.

What is with this Lich King guy? Did he never get that Gadgetzan Electric Train he always wanted as a kid? Are his underwear made out of platemail? Did his local apothecary run out of happy pills? Did his parents like his older sister better than they liked him? Has he got a lot of acne under that helm?

He's all, Kill everything that moves, the light has abandoned you, spare no one, blah blah blah.

I think Mrs Lich King needs to bake him a nice apple pie and give him a good seeing to.

My thoughts on certain inhabitants of Northrend

Rats should not exist.

But if they must exist, they definitely shouldn't swim.

Shopping with Aaxen

He is titled, Aaxen the Argent Champion. But I can think of some other titles for him.

Aaxen with the Sidecar. Awarded to him for services to off-road motorbiking. This is a man who will drive off a cliff and put the bubble around you so you don't die - even if it means dying himself. A man so intrepid, that even after such calamity, he still only responds, 'lol'.

Aaxen the Assassin. Awarded for services in arenas. Namely, letting me summon beasts which he mostly kills, then instructing me to go and collect my rewards from the quest giver with the noble phrase 'Keep em coming'. I have adorned myself with at least two very impressive staves owing to this man's methods. And there's nothing cuter than a girl wielding a weapon that's bigger around than she is. Send your messages of gratitude to Aaxen.

Personal Shopper Aaxen. Awarded for services to shopping. When you want to hit the boutiques, this is the man you want as your bodyguard. Speaking the words every blood elf longs to hear - 'Let's get you some gloves' - he is happy to take me through the same dungeon five times in a row, when he already outlevels the drops, just to see if he can get me the whole set. The man does not tire easily. It is like Gok Wan in Dorothy Perkins when they don't have your size.

Aaxen Claus. Awarded for services to goodies in the post. I complain that levelling jewelcrafting is a bitch? Aaxen asks for my spec, then forty bars of mithril turn up in the post so I can make filigree and move up in the world. Season's greetings, Aaxen strikes again.

It's good to have a posse to roll with. Three cheers for Aaxen!

Let's clear this up.

I am aware that this photograph of me at Brewfest has emerged. Looking at it, any observer might be forgiven thinking that I am acting as a serving wench, paired up with an orc with tribal tattoos straight out of the 90s and a horn growing directly out of his head. And you may ask yourself, what kind of company is Bee keeping, and why would she subjugate herself to common bar work, serving orc ales at Brewfest?

Allow me to shed some light on the situation.

Now, I am a very charitable woman. Yes, I like killing things, which might seem violent. And yes, I also like jewelcrafting, which might seem elitist. But I also like to give something back. There were children at Brewfest, as it was a family event, and I was very struck by the plight of the orc babies I saw. It is already too late for the full-grown orc you see pictured beside me - he has already come through his painful childhood, and grown up to be terribly ugly, and he is dealing with that handicap with enormous inner strength. (And of course, outer strength, judging by the fact his biceps are as big around as my waist.)

But it is not too late for us to help the orc babies. With a little bit of plastic surgery, a strict diet and sixteen years of oppressive socialisation in single-sex blood elf boarding schools, orcs can grow up to find a home on the fringes of sort of lower class society instead of being total outcasts. It is within our power to bring this comfort to these young orcs! We must not ignore them.

For that reason, I ran a charity bar at Brewfest selling orc ales, and all tips collected in the stein you see in the photograph - as well as a portion of all profits - is going to Beelzebelle's Overdisciplined-but-Necessary Single Sex Boarding School for Poor Ugly Orc Babies.

We raised a good sum on the day through our efforts. But I was never doing this for publicity. I know in my heart that I am a sort of Mother Teresa/Princess Di type figure for a lot of Blood Elfdom, so I just did this to give something back. However with the emergence of this photograph, I thought it was best to clarify exactly what was happening. I was just being saintly. Not fraternising with orcs.

I mean, gross.

A title...

I see people around Northrend with fancy titles... You know, Ambassador This and Keeper of That, So-and-so of Undercity. And I thought now that's something I need. A title. Maybe something like Princess Beelzebelle or Beelzebelle, Queen of Style and Decorum of all of Azeroth, or similar. And then once I had earned my place in the hearts of my people, they would come to know affectionately as 'Queen Bee' which really would look nice in print on the cover of all the Silvermoon society magazines.

'Queen Bee opens her home to us: The Silvermoon Tatler takes honeymint tea with the blood elf who defined fashion for a generation of Sunwell worshippers.'

*sigh*

I mentioned this to my guild and they said there were lots of titles I could get. I asked them which was the easiest, because I wanted one sooner rather than later - it's a little embarassing just running around unadorned with any kind of status. And they said they'd help me get one.

They took me to this room with a bunch of eggs in it and aggravated all of the baby whelps, then got me in to help burn them all up in one go. It was good fun and it did earn me a title for having distinguished myself in battle against a bunch of baby dragons through the use of a somewhat questionable strategy.

Titled after a man who shouts his own name as a battle cry.

Ah yes. Jenkins. I now have a title that is really more of a surname. It sounds like a 1950s family name from an American sitcom. Oh that Leroy Jenkins next door, he's always trying to outdo me by planting bigger azaleas than mine! The hilarity. Whatever will that Jenkins do next.

This is probably not exactly what I had in mind. It may actually be time to put my nose down and do some reputation grinding.

Brewfest Roundup

First decision of Brewfest: there will not be any need to attire myself in the spirit of the occasion.

Here I am, trying to get this hottie wine connoisseur's attention, and all he can do is stare moodily into the middle distance lost in thoughts about fermentation. Blood elf men are so inaccessible.

So it's not exactly an elegant mount, but when there's a chance to have a baby pink elephant as a pet, a girl does what a girl's gotta do. Even ram riding.

Just when you think orcs can't get any uglier, they break out the leiderhosen and prove you wrong.

And... ditto for the undead. Shorts are a bad idea when you don't actually have skin.



And you! You're just a freak.

And here he is! The best part of Brewfest. Pink pachyderm! I think I'm in love.

You hugged a dead guy?

I'm not sure that's cool.

Overheard in Guildchat

Spotted: Alexstrasza the Life-Binder

Where do I begin?

Waist to hip ratio - check.

Awesome tan - check.

Fully co-ordinated outfit, complete with accessories - check.

Superhero cape - check.

Glowing eyes - check.

And... totally amazing hat with horns on it - check, check, and did I mention check.

Actually, it stands to reason that a class of creatures who breathe fire would choose someone this totally HOT to be their queen. When you think 'Queen of the Dragons', you don't really expect a minger, do you? This bitch knows how to dress. I can sense a new BBF in the vicinity.

They're still watching

So the last time I thought I'd have a crafty one, WoW's observation 'You love skunk' took me by surprise. I had snuck into the woods out by Shattrath very discreetly, sparked up and then there it was: evidence that Big Brother is always watching.

Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, I picked a new hiding place - this time in Northrend. I got my 'herbalism supplies' from a Tauren in a really remote part of the country. And just to make extra double sure, I even donned a disguise.

Tri-corn with skull & crossbones, low-cut peasant blouse plus sprayed-on britches? Totally inconspicuous. I should have been completely anonymous.

But no sooner did I settle in and my information feed let me know that, not only did it know what I was up to, but it even knew what variety that Tauren had sold me.

Nothing like stating the obvious. Next, it will be informing me that I love new boots, brewfest and choppers.

Gremlin

Someone really should not have fed this creature after midnight.

And a bottle of ...

While I do, like anyone, really get into the idea of shouting YaRRRrrrr and drinking rum with impunity, I must admit there was something about Pirate Day that was bothering me.

You see, whenever I think it will be a good idea to play pirate and have one of those savoury delight thingys or whatever they are, I'm disappointed. Because it doesn't just turn me into a pirate - it turns me into a human. Euuww. Chunky thighs, boring ears, meaty hands. Ugh. It's just awful. You know, I picture myself looking hot like Geena Davis in Cutthroat Island but instead I end up just looking like some Alliance loser in a pirate suit.

For that reason, I made a rather ambivalent journey from Northrend, where I was merrily killing captives, to Booty Bay, where the pirate festivities were waiting. But when I arrived, I saw something amazing - a dranei loping past, her knees bending backwards - dressed as a pirate! Could it be... that they were going to just give me a new outfit? And that I could still be my incredibly fine Belf Self? Just with a little sprinkling of yo ho ho?

Oh yes. It was true. Now, everyone loves a pirate. But everyone really loves a pirate when they look like this:

Hmm, do these pirate leggings make my butt look big?

Nope. Just hawt.

In fact, even my icon has turned all sleek. And Bitterdue's is.... ermm, yes. Hi Bitterdue.

So now I'm really enjoying Pirate Day. And to celebrate, I think I'll go kill Onyxia with the guild. Watch out, dragonbreath. Pirate hotties are coming to get you. YaRRrrr!

Watch out for those claws

A large but fairly easy kill. Crabcakes marinated in mana, anyone?