"An Alternative History Of WOW"Follow

lol im glad i came back...so i could update my reading experience with this awesoe thread..keep em coming!

Chapter 14,
"Or how we all want to go back where we came from"



Sylvanas had been working hard all day, all night, and sometimes even during his lunch break. He had a whole army to train: warriors to equip, rogues to hide, priests and mages to dress up in colourful gear and silly hats that he might've been seen before in a book, or a film, about a little orphan boy with a scar who goes to boarding school and saves the world while playing aerial cricket. And eventhough his army was rather shabby-looking and disorganised, they had no concept of fear, of
pain, of death. "Rogues do it from behind!" he would often find himself shouting at them, "priests do it in a flash", "mages are not just vending-machines", and little by little, the ragged skeletons were understanding and applying his comments.


But Sylvanas was not entirely satisfied. He would spend hours looking into the mirror, trying to come to terms with his new face, his new body, his new existence. He would stare at his hands, his feet, his hips. Something, he felt, was missing. Something was not entirely right. It was as though his body did not fit his mind. And, sometimes, when he looked into the eyes of a rugged warrior, he would feel a little tingle inside his stomach.



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Everyone in Stormwind was whispering as she walked past. "What a
beautiful lass", "Check out the booty on her", or even "I sure could mix my banana with her Nutella" were just some of the comments that this Lady Prestor heard as she walked from the gates of the city to the Keep.


When she finally arrived to her room, Lady Prestor stood in front of the mirror, and started unlacing her dress. She slipped out of it, and as unbuttoned her corset.

- Can I help, queried a deep voice.

She turned around and saw Arthas, grinning cheesily, arms crossed, sunglasses on, resting against a column.

-Maybe you can, replied Prestor with a cheeky smile.

Arthas took his sunglasses off, and walked towards her in the manliest fashion he could muster. It reminded her of a chimpanzee in plate walking in the savannah, but she didn't say anything. When Arthas was finally within reach, she grabbed him by the throat.

- Make love to me like you've never made love before, she whispered in his ear.
- Well that won't be hard, replied Arthas half choking.
- You mean... it's your first time?
- Well, said Arthas slightly embarrassed. Technically no, but with a woman, I guess it is. I mean, once I went to a petting zoo, and...
- I don't wanna know, said Prestor slightly disturbed at the thought. Just do it. Make me a woman. Let a thousand dragons rise from my ***** and unto this forsaken land.

And Arthas, smiling dumbly at what he thought was a metaphor, tried to remember the porno films of his youth, and just wished he had bought that pump he once saw in the sex-shop. He laid her down on the bed, unzipped his trousers, and jumped on top of her.

- Is it in?
- Erm, said Arthas slightly embarrassed. It's finished, actually.

Lady Prestor had a little giggle, and pushed him off.

- Good. No time-wasting, I like that. I hope it was as good for you as it was unnoticeable for me. Now... If you don't mind, I have serious stuff to do.
- Yeah? Like what, said Arthas lighting up a cigarette.
- Like paying Thrall a visit.
- What? I thought I was your boyfriend!

Lady Prestor smiled at the pitiful creature standing before her. And with a snap of the fingers, she was gone.

- Go back to the Slag Pit, you... slag!!

And Arthas, proud of his insult, fell asleep dreaming of demons and dragons and Thrall and little green lollypops that taste of lime.



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"Holy notice No 243,

To all that live under the merciful mercy of the Great God of the WOW,

Sinners everywhere! Time has come for repentance... Your actions have angered the Great God of the WOW, and the judgment day is nigh. It is our duty, as protectors of the holy spirit, the holy faith, the holy righteousness, and the holy spirit, to punish by torture and death anyone who shall commit the following sins:

1) Cursing, or uttering the name of the Great God of the Wow by any other name than the name aforementioned above.
2) Fornicating. (Unless it's under the supervision and holy eye of a Scarletian)
3) Stealing (Unless it's for the benefit of the Scarletians)
4) Killing (Unless it's done under the name of the Scarltians, or the Great God of the Wow)
5) Disobeying the orders of the Scarletians (No unless this time)
6) Walking around Stormwind naked or partially naked (Unless ordered to do so by a member of the Scarletian for research purposes)
7) Having fun, enjoying oneself, or not praying 24 times a day
(Unless... you know the drill)
8) Questioning the legality, or morality, of any of the above.

Anyone found to have committed one of these sins, or anyone suspected of having the intention of committing of one these sins, shall be summarily tortured, executed on the market place, and used as a public urinal.

Whilst it breaks our hearts to inflict these benign punishments, we are obliged to do so by the holy spirit that inhabits us, and talks to us regularly, sometimes about really random stuff like how to make pizza, or how Zidane is past his prime. We are not here to question His will, but only to apply it in the most cruel and sadistic way possible.

Amen.

By special decree No 243, under the authority of our
beloved-yet-feared-yet-respected-because-well-endowed-or-so-he-tells-us
President Arthas (10 years).

The Scarletians."


- What on God's ****** up earth is this about?
- Don't worry about it, they're a bunch of nutcases that Arthas
appointed. It's like a secret holy police or something.
- What is the world coming to, wondered Shaman to himself.
- It's nice to see you back, sir.

Shaman turned around, and saw a little kid with a big smile looking up to him.

- Are you going to leave us again?
- No, no, said Shaman. I'm here for good now. Don't you worry.
- Are the Scarletians going to kill you?
- Heh, smiled Shaman. Why would they do that?
- Because, you impure-rotting-no-good-evil-doer-scum-***, you have just broken rule number 1, 5 and 8. And no one ***** with rule number 8.

Shaman turned around and saw three bulky guys, all dressed in silly robes, staring at him.

- Ah, he said, you must be the Scarlet-people-thingy-guys. How
delightful to meet you all!
- Enough of your so-called-humourus-humouring, Shaman. If that is your real name... You are a sinner, and thou shallst pay for thy sins!
- Yeah, said Shaman visibly unimpressed. So you're just gonna kill me now?
- Oh no, said the Scarlatians in chorus. We are not barbarians. You will be tried in due time, by a Court of Justice and Law and Order and God.
- God will be a judge?
- Metaphorically speaking, yes. Realistically, on the other hand, no. Now, if you would please follow us to your jail...
- Any chance of bail?

But the Scarletians merely shrugged, grabbed Shaman by the arm, and lead him to the Stormwind prison.




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His vision of paradise, in a nutshell. He just couldn't believe those long branches, agile as the wind and solid like the earth, those gigantic buds ejaculating godly scents of the saintly stoned-times to come, and this massive trunk, eternal as the Tree of Life itself. When the wind was blowing, those buds would crash to the ground, evaporating in the thin air, and supplying a constant stream of wicked puff to the tree's inhabitants. It was the psychedelic paradise hippies on their wildest acid trip never even dreamed of. And soon, a sense of fulfilment replaced the Great God of the WOW's anger. With a little smile, he whispered "Illidan", and the wind carried his call to the dreamy, hazy
slumber Illidan had fallen into.

- What? No, I tell you, innocent and all that, never been there, was having sex with a gnome at the time, and you can ask...
- Relax, Illidan, it's only me, God.

Illidan suddenly got up, whipped the drool off the side of his mouth, and stood to attention.

-OMFG, You've come to kill me, haven't you? I'm really, really sorry, but it wasn't my idea to steal the weed, it was the gnome, it's all his fault, I just followed him, I'm just a pawn, I swear!!
-Heh. How about we go somewhere more...private?
-Sure thing boss, said Illidan visibly relieved.

And so God Picked up Illidan from the tree, and dropped him onto his heavenly cloud.

- So let me get this right, said the Great God of the WOW. You shagged some garden gnomes and created the dwarves, made the humans build a giant staircase to my cloud, stole my weed in the middle of the night, planted it in the sea, and then went on to inhabit the plant that grew out of it.
- In a nutshell, said Illidan visibly proud of himself.
- Impressive, my man, impressive.
- D'you want your weed back?
- No, no, said the Great God of the WOW. This giant weedy tree is much better than my plants, and since I can come and pick up some buds any time, it's just as easy. Plus I won't smoke quite as much if I have to do that trip every time I want a joint, so it's better for me.
- Sweet, said Iliidan with a smile.
- Do you know that Arthas wants you dead? And that my sister is slowly corrupting every single place on this planet? And that there is an inevitable conflict brewing between the humans alliance and the orcish horde?
- Yep, said Illidan.
- And you don't worry?
- Nope, said Illidan.
- Man, said the Great God of the WOW shaking his head. You're like the brother I never had.
- Hehe, smiled Illidan. Did you know I shagged a kodo?
- A kodo?
- Alright then, "a few" kodos.
- Yeah, I know, said the Great God. It's ok man, this weed wasn't made for little humans like you. It's far too strong. Anyway, roll a fat one will you?
-Sure thing boss!

As Illidan was rolling his godly joint, the Great God of the WOW let out a lond, drawn-out sigh.

- What's up?
- Nothing, said the Great God of the WOW. Just sometimes I wish everyone could be like the Taurens over there. Look at them.

And Illidan stared down from the heavenly cloud onto the Tauren homeland of Mulgore. All he could see were giant cows going about their business, eating grass, burning leaves, telling tales of the Cow Holocaust, back in the Earthly days when they were rounded-up and sent to their death by the truck-load.

- Yeah, so, asked Illidan passing the joint to God.
- So... They're so normal! Well, apart from the whole biped, talking, clothes wearing, shot-gun blasting, giant-city-building-thing, which, admittedly, is kinda strange for a cow. But apart from that, they just go on about their business. No killing, no clans, no politics, no hatred, no power conflicts, it's just... I don't know, sometimes I wish I was a cow.

And Illidan wondered if he had really heard God say that, but soon forgot about it when given the joint back.

- You can always come and live with us on the weed-tree if you want, said Illidan tentatively.
- No, I'm ok on my cloud. Especially now I got my weed back.
- Yeah, smiled Illidan. Sometimes I do silly things.
- It's ok, said God.
- Clue number one was when you knocked on my door!!
- Kali, said the Great God of the WOW excitedly!
- Clue number two was the look that you wore, said Illidan!
- And that's when I knew it was a pretty good sign, that something was wrong on cloud number nine!!
- All together now, said the Great God of the WOW!
- Well we won't come down tonight... Yeah, we won't come down tonight...
No we won't come down tonight... We can watch the world go by - up on cloud number nine!!

Edited, Wed Oct 5 13:33:10 2005 by RedPhoenixxxxxx

Edited, Wed Oct 5 13:43:52 2005 by RedPhoenixxxxxx

Please more you are the

I really appreciate the story. It's kept me awake during class 2 days in a row. Thanks.

Who else speaks in a jamacian accent but the trolls... I do believe that the people who went up the weed tree are the elfs though... since it seems to have changed them

If you read the one part of the story when Illidan and the Gnome are sitting together looking down on the barrens or whatever it says they're turning green and such so yes, they're becoming the Night Elves. Also them living in the tree, near the ocean, on an island kind of gives it away too ^_^

Chapter 17,
“Or How Many Joints Must a Man Smoke Down?”







- It goes something like this: “I smoke two joints in the morning, I smoke two joints at night, I smoke two joints in the afternoon, and then na na na na… I smoke two joints, in time of peace, and two in time of war, I smoke two joints before I smoke two joints, and then I smoke two more…”
- So that’s how many joints?

Illidan grabbed a notepad and a pen, started scribbling down numbers, letters, tables, equations diagrams, scratched his head for a while, and finally said:

- I think he smoked 14 joints. Unless, of course, there was peace and war in the same day, in which case he would’ve smoke 16.
- Sissy, said Tyrande with her nose up. I smoke that many before I go to work!
- And that’s why you never make it there!
- Hey, it’s just that I get lost on my way there! It’s a big tree, and I fall off the branches every other day. Stupid auto-run… And when I don’t get lost, I find myself enticed in some fascinating conversation about the dilemmas and paradoxes of being a green semi-invisible hippy-warrior in a world of hate and peace, and how that relates to our socio-cultural evolution from an anthropologic point of view.
- With a tree…
- Trees have fascinating insights, I’ll let you know!! They’re, like, aware, of, you know, stuff… And anyway, they never contradict me, so I always feel valued. And if you hug a tree…
- Don’t start with that, please Tyrande. I still think it’s a form of rape to hug a tree without its consent.
- Not at all! It’s not, really it’s just that… you know… What were we talking about again?
- Trees.
- Ah yeah. Trees are cool, said Tyrande with a smile. Here you go.

Illidan took the joint offered to him, and listened to the hissing melody of the wind in the branches, and it made him think of a harp, or a flute, or when he was a kid and he used to take a bit of grass between his hands and blow on it and it would make a cool hissing sound, just like the wind, in the trees, like a harp.

- I’m hungry, said Tyrande. Should we order an owl-kebab?
- Owl-kebabs suck, replied Illidan. It’s all bones and beaks. I want a bear-burger.
- We’ve had bear-burgers all of last week, man! Don’t you ever get tired of it?
- Shhh!

And in the wind, Illidan could’ve sworn he heard some distant murmur. He got up, sat back down because of a head-rush, got up again, and tried as hard as he could to concentrate. He could just about hear a slight whispering in the wind “Illidan, we need your help… Illidan… the war has begun…”

- It’s my mate the garden gnome…
- Your mate?
- Well, mate, brother, cousin, son, whatever. Can’t you hear anything?
Tyrande tried as hard as she could to listen, but her mind would constantly drift back to the bear-burger, and the ketchup that would overflow from it, and the mayo, and some fries would be nice too, unless they make them too salty cos then you have to drink loads, and maybe she should try onion rings this time cos she heard they were quite nice and not too fat, what with her having stopped exercising she should really watch her diet, if she got fat all the guys would stop staring at her.
- Onion rings, she asked Illidan.
- What?
- Nothing, sorry. Nope, can’t hear a thing.

Illidan closed his eyes, and tried to focus all his energies on the wind. He whispered “we’re coming… we’re coming… just hold on...”

- Coming where, asked Tyrande?
- Gather up all the people willing to fight, Illidan answered. There’s a war going on outside, we’ve got to go and help.
- Now?
- Yes, now! And hurry, time is not on our side.






………………………………………………………………………………………






- Is this the final battle then?
- I doubt it, Kali. I reckon it’s just one more skirmish, and there will be loads more, said the Great God of the Wow shaking his head.
- So… what are they fighting for this time?
- It’s all to do with my sister. She reckons if she sleeps with Thrall, she’ll have the seamen of the two greatest warriors, and will give birth to dragons that will rule this planet. Something along those lines…
- Is it true?
- Probably. But I can’t see Thrall falling for it to be honest. But what I don’t get is that she should hate dragons. You know, all the rape thing? And now she wants to breed some... I just don’t get it.
- Maybe it’s the Stockholm syndrome.
- Maybe.
- And you’re just going to sit there?
- Yep.
- Why?
- Cos they have to learn on their own. It’s like kids. You can tell a child not to touch boiling water, but until he actually does it and burns himself, he won’t really understand.
- Yeah, fair enough, but if he gets horrible burns and is disfigured, you won’t have done him any favours, will you?
- True, but think about it. The humans don’t want to fight. Neither do the gnomes, or the dwarves, or the stoners. The Horde will only defend itself, and maybe try to free Shaman. I don’t think it’ll be that bloody. And who knows, it might just help the humans get rid of the Scarletians. And anyway, if I interfered everytime something went wrong, these guys would never learn. They have to be responsible for their actions, that’s the whole point. I don’t want to infantilise a whole planet.
- Guess not. Still, it’s not going to be a pretty sight, is it?
- Nope.

And the Great God of the Wow took another drag on the joint, and passed it to Kali.

- Did you know that all polar bears are left-handed?
- Really?
- Yeah... Weird, isn’t it?
- It sure is, said the Great God of the Wow.
- I guess the Earth God must’ve smoked a few in his youth too. I mean, how else do you explain that 111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321?
- Does it really?
- Apparently.
- Crazy $!@%…




……………………………………………………………………………….






And in front of the mirror, stood this beautiful woman, boobs up to her chin, tight ***, curvy hips, long legs that never seemed to end. Staring at herself for the first time, Sylvanas finally felt complete. This was how she was always meant to be. Proud of her body, assured of her mind, she gathered up the strength to face her undead brethren for the first time in this form.

- You happy then, asked a terrified Shipman?
- Ha… I almost forgot about you, replied Sylvanas in a lovely high-pitch voice.

And with one swift movement of the wrist, she threw a knife that ended straight in his throat. As he struggled and tried to take it out, Sylvanas felt she obliged to apologise.

- I’m sorry, I just don’t want the publicity. I’m sure you understand.

And as Shipman choked to a slow and painful death, Sylvanas walked out of the door into a deserted Stormwind. She looked around, and felt slightly quizzy at the thought she had once designed all this, in a lifetime that seemed millennia away. She summoned an undead horse from nowhere, and rode it back towards the Undercity, trying to figure out the best way to explain this sudden transformation. “They won’t even recognise me”, she kept thinking to herself. But when you have a great butt and perky boobs, none of these things really matter. As she strode away through the volcanic landscapes, she couldn’t help but think of how much she would enjoy torturing Arthas. And, with a little smile on her face and the wind in her hair, she started screaming “I’m every woman… It’s all in meeeeee…”

And the Great God of the Wow took a look at the joint he was holding, shook his head, and flicked it out of sight.

Ok, out of interest I tried that 111,111,111 x 111,111,111 thing and it does equal 12345678987654321.. I give you props for finding that, cause that is pretty freaky and I personally never knew.

It's going to be funny when some people read the whole story, and the only thing they remember is the 111,111,111 * 111,111,111 thing.

Enjoying it, keep them coming man.

Mrs Rouge had never seen anything quite like it. This was surely the most shambolic and chaotic military operation she had ever seen. Maybe only the crusades, back in the Earthen days, could rival in terms of sheer incompetence and selfishness. As they had left Stormwind, Mrs Rouge counted over two thousand men, gnome, and dwarves. Right now, as they were approaching the Barrens, over half had disappeared. Some had fled in the mountains, some had fled in the hills, and some had taken residence in the settlements nearby. And while the Scarletians had tried their best to kill those that escaped, they realised quickly that their ammunitions would run out soon if they kept on shooting the deserters. Like a nasty diarrhoea after a spicy curry, the deserters were streaming out of the ranks.

And eventhough Rouge was slowly realising what a terrible and stupid mistake all this expedition had been, she could see no way back. The Scarletians were happily marching, chanting “We love God, He loves us, we’re gonna die for the glorious!!” and there was no way they would turn back now. Those cretins saw death as a reward, and were convinced paradise was waiting for them at the end of a sharpened axe.

“What a bunch of !&$%ing idiots”, she kept thinking. And she knew she wasn’t like them. As much as she loved power, she loved life even more. And somehow, the prospect of being torn to pieces by Taurens and Orcs and whatnots, quite simply did not made her want to sing. “To our death we march, in the month of March, It’s so great to die, We’ll go to the sky!” And as the chants got worse and worse, Rouge was getting this sinking feeling in her stomach. The biggest mistake of her life, and she could see no way out. She felt like a prisoner marching to the guillotine, while religious fanatics were making up the soundtrack of her death. “500 men against 2000 hordes, no !&$%ing way we’re getting out of there alive” and she now envied all those clever souls that had ran away.

- Halt, screamed a Scarletian!

In the distance, Mrs Rouge could just about perceive gigantic shapes on the horizon, melting in the clouds of sand and dust. And as her heartbeat got faster and louder, she knew most of her comrades in arms would not live to see another day. She held her daggers tight, switched them from hand to hand, waiting for the final onslaught, the final signal that would make this lemming army run to their certain death. Unfortunately, this final signal never came. Before anyone could utter a word, the Horde army had started advancing towards them. And what a sight it was.

Giant Taurens mounted on Kodos, Orcs on wolves galloping in the wind, screaming, howling, the drums of war mounted on the Kodos beating ever faster, and their vibrations she could feel tearing through her legs. But none of the humans moved. Paralysed by fear, they were waiting for a divine intervention, or, even less likely, a signal to retreat back to Stormwind. Unfortunately for those hopefuls, the Great God of the WOW was watching all this unfold on his cloud, a bag of popcorn in one hand and a joint in the other, with Kali sitting by side. As for the Scarletians, they could only smile at this vision of impending paradise running towards them.

- Arrrr.. This is nay be the way of the Mighty Dwarves! Come ye all, fight fer yer lives!!

And the little dwarves, mounted on their little rams, were the first to charge towards the advancing horde. Emboldened by this fearlessness, the Gnomes soon followed on their weird giant mechanical chickens. And while the Scarletians stared at each other in disbelief as this unwillingness to be killed, the humans soon followed their brethren. The Scarletians, for their part, got on their knees and began to pray. Outnumbered and outgunned, this little Alliance army nevertheless crashed into the impeding wave of Orcs and Taurens, killing, slaying, crashing their home-made weapons into the shields and skulls of the Horde. And while there was very little skill involved in this mass zerging, the dwarves nevertheless held their own and fought like there was no tomorrow, ducking beneath the swinging axes, planting their polearms into the plated chests of the not-so-agile Taurens, trying not to get stomped on by the Kodos…

But bravery can only take you so far in a massacre. It quickly became apparent that even if each dwarf could take on and kill three Orcs, this would not be sufficient. Their numbers were decreasing fast, and despite the cunning nets, rockets, and bombtraps of the gnomes, the sheer mass of the Horde would soon overpower them for good. And yet, amongst all the turmoil, one little gnome could swear he could hear someone singing “The Great God of Wow had a cloud, hiha, hiha, hoo… And on this cloud he had some weed, hiha, hiah, hoo… With a puff puff here, and a puff puff there, puff puff, choke choke, everywhere…” and out of the thin air, a whole army of tall green men armed with blades appeared, and began slaying the Orcs and Taurens caught by surprise. After a couple of easy kills, Illidan ran towards his gnomish friend, grabbed him by the collar, and ran away. The little gnome, choking on his robe, wanted to yell “Stop!”, but could not bring himself to do it. Despite his shame at watching his friends get slaughtered, he knew this surprise attack by the stoners was only a diversion, that they just didn’t have the numbers to win this battle. Amongst the slowly fading landscape, he heard the long, drawn-out sound of a horn. It was the sound of retreat.



…………… .......... ..........



- Stop!!! Hold your positions, said a bloody Thrall. They are leaving…

He took a deep breath, tried to step out of the blood, the mud, and the decapitated bodies that made up the ground beneath his feet, and looked around for Cairne. When he finally caught his eye, he slowly walked over to him, and nodded. Cairne, still high on adrenaline and puffing heavily could only nod back. They both knew they had won, and yet this victory didn’t taste anything. It felt bland.

- Everyone back to their homes, yelled Thrall. The war is over…

Seemingly disappointed at the shortness of it all, the Horde slowly made their way back to their camps. Only Thrall and Cairne remained in the battlefield, staring at the devastation they were standing on.

- How did it happen?
- I don’t know, said Thrall. I was expecting a lot more. No idea what happened. But… at least our casualties weren’t too heavy. Those !&$%ing stoners though, where did they come from?
- No idea… I didn’t even know they existed!
- So what now?
- Now, the real fun begins. We’re going to free Shaman, and then get Arthas.
- You and me?
- You and me, said Thrall with a smile.