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Woo hoo... and "The Greatest Story Ever Told" continues! :-))
Simple greatness...
I'll have to read the rest later.
I'll have to read the rest later.
9 posts
This is awesome, keep it coming.
Chapter 20 (part 1),
“Or How the more you talk, the less you think.â€
Corpses everywhere, limbs torn from their bodies, the ground covered in dried blood, and the stinking stench of rot spreading amongst the Barrens. So this is what a massacre looks like. More strikingly, this is what a massacre smells like. No one could possibly last longer than a few seconds amongst this endless scenery of carnage. No one except maybe the hyenas, feasting on the dead bodies, and a little troll boy who’d just lost his whole family, and, it seemed, his will to live. He just stared emptily as some part of what used to be his mum, but he wasn’t even sure he was staring at the right corpse. It didn’t matter anyway. This bit of flesh, that bit of flesh, what difference did it make… Somewhere, he wished he had died to. At least he wouldn’t have to feel the pain, the loneliness, or the guilt of the survivor. He would be somewhere far away, where Kodos didn’t die, and where mutant Kodos were accepted, and most of all respected.
But this place would have to wait. His anger was growing with every breath he took, casting a long, dark shadow over his grief. Someone would have to pay. Someone, somewhere was responsible. And by the living, when he found that someone, they would wish they had never been born at all.
He would’ve left, but had nowhere to go. So he just sat there, next to some dead Kodo, who might or might not have been his mum. Drenched in blood, filled with patient and calculated fury, he delved deeper into himself, trying to remember his mum and dad, and his childhood wandering the Barrens innocently.
- Son, I am your father.
It took a few seconds for Sen to realise the voice he’d just heard didn’t come from his own mind. It took yet a little while longer for him to understand that the implication of this voice was that there was someone else standing next to him. As he was about to realise that someone had actually told him he was his father, the voice spoke again.
- Kiddo?
Sen slowly turned around, and saw a tall, green, lanky sort of man through the tears that filled his eyes.
- I’m sorry about the Kodos. It’s those stupid Scarletians, they !&$%ing suck ***, you know.
But Sen could not speak. His voice was buried somewhere deep inside his body. He couldn’t understand how this thing could be his dad, but, in a strange way, it made more sense than it should.
- I know this is confusing for you, but I just thought I should tell you. Especially now that every else is dead.
Little Sen just shook his head refusing to believe it. “How…†was about all he could muster.
- Well, your mum and I kinda had a fling, back in the days. I was really, really high, by the way, I wouldn’t normally do it in normal circumstances, but I was horny, and she was cute, so…
In a swift movement reminiscent of Illidan himself, Sen sprung up, grabbed Illidan by the collar, and stuck a home-made knife against his neck.
- So… You are telling me that one-night, you were stoned out of your mind, and decided to rape my mum?! A Kodo!? And that you chose now, he moment I find out they’re all dead, to tell me! What kind of a !&$%ed-up drug-abuser rapist are you?!
- Erm… the cool kind?
- Give me one good reason I should not kill you right now…
But thinking never was Illidan’s forte. As his mind struggled to between hopelessly looking for a reason, and wandering how to escape this tricky situation, divine intervention sprung up in the unlikely form of a giant cow.
- Because we have suffered enough death these days, little Sen’jin. Let the freak go, and come with me. Some of his, erm, other children are with the orcs. We’ve given them a refuge, and I’m sure they’d love to see you’re alive and well.
Sen’jin hesitated for a while. One wrist movement and the freak was dead. Illidan, meanwhile was wandering whether he should try giving his boy a kiss, but you know what it’s like with teenagers, they get all embarrassed when parents kiss them in front of other people. Sen’jin promptly dropped him, stared in Illidan’s eyes, and whispered “The next time we meet, I will kill youâ€. He turned around and followed Cairne, heading south. Illidan got back on his feet, and watched helplessly as his son walked away.
- The next time we meet, I will hug you!
But Sen just lifted his middle finger high in the air.
“Or How the more you talk, the less you think.â€
Corpses everywhere, limbs torn from their bodies, the ground covered in dried blood, and the stinking stench of rot spreading amongst the Barrens. So this is what a massacre looks like. More strikingly, this is what a massacre smells like. No one could possibly last longer than a few seconds amongst this endless scenery of carnage. No one except maybe the hyenas, feasting on the dead bodies, and a little troll boy who’d just lost his whole family, and, it seemed, his will to live. He just stared emptily as some part of what used to be his mum, but he wasn’t even sure he was staring at the right corpse. It didn’t matter anyway. This bit of flesh, that bit of flesh, what difference did it make… Somewhere, he wished he had died to. At least he wouldn’t have to feel the pain, the loneliness, or the guilt of the survivor. He would be somewhere far away, where Kodos didn’t die, and where mutant Kodos were accepted, and most of all respected.
But this place would have to wait. His anger was growing with every breath he took, casting a long, dark shadow over his grief. Someone would have to pay. Someone, somewhere was responsible. And by the living, when he found that someone, they would wish they had never been born at all.
He would’ve left, but had nowhere to go. So he just sat there, next to some dead Kodo, who might or might not have been his mum. Drenched in blood, filled with patient and calculated fury, he delved deeper into himself, trying to remember his mum and dad, and his childhood wandering the Barrens innocently.
- Son, I am your father.
It took a few seconds for Sen to realise the voice he’d just heard didn’t come from his own mind. It took yet a little while longer for him to understand that the implication of this voice was that there was someone else standing next to him. As he was about to realise that someone had actually told him he was his father, the voice spoke again.
- Kiddo?
Sen slowly turned around, and saw a tall, green, lanky sort of man through the tears that filled his eyes.
- I’m sorry about the Kodos. It’s those stupid Scarletians, they !&$%ing suck ***, you know.
But Sen could not speak. His voice was buried somewhere deep inside his body. He couldn’t understand how this thing could be his dad, but, in a strange way, it made more sense than it should.
- I know this is confusing for you, but I just thought I should tell you. Especially now that every else is dead.
Little Sen just shook his head refusing to believe it. “How…†was about all he could muster.
- Well, your mum and I kinda had a fling, back in the days. I was really, really high, by the way, I wouldn’t normally do it in normal circumstances, but I was horny, and she was cute, so…
In a swift movement reminiscent of Illidan himself, Sen sprung up, grabbed Illidan by the collar, and stuck a home-made knife against his neck.
- So… You are telling me that one-night, you were stoned out of your mind, and decided to rape my mum?! A Kodo!? And that you chose now, he moment I find out they’re all dead, to tell me! What kind of a !&$%ed-up drug-abuser rapist are you?!
- Erm… the cool kind?
- Give me one good reason I should not kill you right now…
But thinking never was Illidan’s forte. As his mind struggled to between hopelessly looking for a reason, and wandering how to escape this tricky situation, divine intervention sprung up in the unlikely form of a giant cow.
- Because we have suffered enough death these days, little Sen’jin. Let the freak go, and come with me. Some of his, erm, other children are with the orcs. We’ve given them a refuge, and I’m sure they’d love to see you’re alive and well.
Sen’jin hesitated for a while. One wrist movement and the freak was dead. Illidan, meanwhile was wandering whether he should try giving his boy a kiss, but you know what it’s like with teenagers, they get all embarrassed when parents kiss them in front of other people. Sen’jin promptly dropped him, stared in Illidan’s eyes, and whispered “The next time we meet, I will kill youâ€. He turned around and followed Cairne, heading south. Illidan got back on his feet, and watched helplessly as his son walked away.
- The next time we meet, I will hug you!
But Sen just lifted his middle finger high in the air.
Chapter 20 (part 2)
Sylvanas took out the little piece of paper from her pocket. “Bloody Taurens, when will they learn how to write…†She tried to decipher the scribbling, map, and little instructions that Cairne had left her: “Head, to Stormwind, go to the big place in the middle with the shopping mall, turn right, follow the little rivery thingy on your right, look out for a castle thingy, go in, go down, and there is Shaman. Don’t forget the bread and milk, or we’ll have plainstrider porridge for breakie tomorrow.†Sylvanas scratched her head, wondered how Taurens could make porridge without milk, and tried to follow the instructions. The City was completely empty, save for a couple of corpses on the market square. She turned right, followed the canal for a bit, smiled at her architectural prowess, back in the days she was made of coordinated flesh and bones. Finally she found the Keep, and entered it. “I can’t believe they turned my disco into a prisonâ€, she thought shaking her head. As she strolled around the empty fortress, she saw a neon sign saying “Prison (ex-disco)†pointing downwards. She followed it, and found herself face-to-face with a healthy looking orc-looking guy, who could only be shaman.
- Mr Shaman?
- Yep.
- Hi! Nice to meet you, my name is Sylvanas, and I’m here to rescue you!
- No offence girl, but you look like the one who’s in need of rescuing.
- Ha, I was warned you were a funny one. I’m an “undeadâ€, as they call me. That’s why I look like a half-eaten corpse.
- Sweet. So… where are you taking me?
- To Orgrimmar. Though I was told you had Astral Recall, and only needed to be freed from, erm… let me check.
She took out the little piece of paper, had a quick browse, and finally said:
- Ah, that’s it, “free Mr Shaman from the shackles of human oppression, so his spirit can foam back to us.†Those Taurens, hey, always trying to be “poetical†and all…
- Foam?
- Erm… Soar, maybe?
- Yeah, that must be it. Very nice.
- So… Any idea where the key is?
- Yeah, on that table over there.
- Ah, I see. Security not very high here, is it?
- No. Though it was a tad better before the Scarletians left. But, now with all the revolutionary stuff going on, it’s a bit of a joke.
- Alright, well, that was a doddle, wasn’t it? I guess I’ll see you around, next time the humans decide to commit mass-suicide or something…
And yet, neither Mr Shaman, casting his Astrall Recall, nor Sylvanas, getting on her undead horse, had any idea that in the room above, the highly secretive and ruthless CRAP meeting was in full flow.
- Ladies, gents, stoners, dwarves, gnomes, and normal people, hear, hear. I hereby declare the Committee for Revolutionary Affairs and Powers session under way. Can I just open my statement by saying that I am tremendously pleased to have you all gathered around this table. And what a fine crowd this is! Survivors from the Great Wars, stupendous Engineers, Dwarf Warlords, Hungry Stoners, and of course, our beloved Lady Prestor whom, after her strip-tease, deserves more than ever her title of “Ladyâ€. Now, I was told to open with a joke, so here goes: Two fish in a tank. One of them says to the other “how the !&$% do you drive this thing?†Ha! Now that the humour is done and dusted, let’s get on with the serious business. After the debacle of the Scarletians, and their costly and pointless war, we have decided that all humans should be equal at birth!!
- Sorry, could we please change that statement to “All humans, gnomes, dwarves and stoners should be equal at birth� It feels more inclusive that way.
- I think you’ll find that gnomes, dwarves and stoners are technically “humanoidsâ€, and therefore do fall under the generic “human†term.
- Maybe, but I would still like the Honourable Human to change the statement, for the purposes of clarity, and to ensure that non-learned members of the public are aware that all races are included.
- Excuse-me, said a stoner, we object to the term “raceâ€, since technically we are not a separate race, simply a organically-modified version of humans. We find it offensive to be labelled a “raceâ€.
- Fine, fine, fine. The statement shall now read “All humans, organically-modified-stoners-ex-humans, gnomes and dwarves should be equal at birth.†Is that better?
Everyone nodded. The Honourable Human continued.
- Once they are born, however, they shall be ranked according to how much times they spend killing random stuff. Anyone who is not a “Masterâ€, a.k.a. “lvl60â€, shall be henceforth named a “Noobâ€. Different variations of the word are allowed, as long as they sound kinda like “Noobâ€. Humans, dwarves, gnomes and –organically-thingy-stoners are equal at birth, but they are also born free!! Hurray! Once they are born, however, they are advised to join a clan, or guild, otherwise they’ll be pretty much lonely and no one will want to party with them. It is also highly recommended that they start killing random stuff as quickly as possible, otherwise they’ll have $!@%ty clothes, $!@%ty equipment, and no friends. Apart from this equality and freedom, all people from the Alliance are free to live as they wish. This freedom, however, is limited by the obligation to kill random stuff, kill Hordies, take part in raids, die quite a lot, and explore the “Dungeons†that our beloved Lady Prestor prepared for us as, as she put it, “practiceâ€. We thank her for that. Now, in order to preserve some sense of hierarchy, we put forward the motion that the 4 year-old boy should remain King, since he is pure and can’t be corrupted, except by Mars bars and Haribo, which are therefore banned.
-Can I raise an objection to object?
- Sure…
- How can we call ourselves “Revolutionaryâ€, thereby implying that somehow we’re kinda communist, and yet have a King and a Lady Regent? Isn’t that like… a Monarchy? Or are we a Revolutionary Communist Monarchy?
- I think the technical term is “The National Liberation Front for Revolutionary Monarchical Parliamentary Communism.†Or NLFRMPC, in short.
- Does this mean we get to share the means of productions, and own the capital, and do sit-ins in factories, and hang capitalists by the ********* Or just that we wear red?
- Mostly that we wear red, however, if you really want to hang capitalists by the ********* I guess you could try making a formal query to the “Formal Query for the Hanging of Capitalists by the Testicules Committeeâ€. I did hear they were quite busy lately, but you can always try… Now, the technicalities of…
And while the humanoids were busy discussing how to render a simple life complicated the Great God of the Wow was lighting his first joint of the day. Indeed, it was already midday.
- You know Kali, I think I might invent a “Silence†spell to make these humans shut up. They talk far too much.
- When they’re not talking they’re fighting, so really it’s not that bad. I think you’re just getting grumpy with old age…
- Old age?! I’m God… God doesn’t grow old, does he? I know Nietzsche said God was dead, but I reckon he died of boredom, or frustration, but certainly not old age.
- Well, I don’t want to be picky, but you’ve had an ankle injury for 6 months and it’s still not healed properly. And the last time you climbed up the Great Tower of Illidan, you almost threw up cos you climbed the steps two at a time! It wouldn’t have happened when you were young…
- I blame the weed… Seriously man, I’m thinking about going to rehab.
- And leave the world alone?
- Just for a little while… I don’t know, I need to think about it… It’s not like I’m needed here anymore. And sometimes I wonder if this whole world isn’t just in my head. It’s so weird and screwed up and nonsensical…
- A bit like the Matrix?
- Yeah, but with better acting.
- Hey Mr God, said Illidan.
- Hey Illidan, said God and Kali visibly pleased. How are you doing?
- Meh, not bad, thanks. Bit of a headache from last night, and my kids are giving me grief, but apart from that, it’ all good.
- Which kids?
- The Kodo ones. For some reason they’re all pissed up that I raped their mum… I tried to explain, but kids are so ungrateful; nowadays. They just don’t realise all the sacrifices I had to make for them!
- Like what?
- Like… Erm… Well… Ok, maybe not “sacrifices†as such, but you know, I think about them sometimes. Can I have a toke?
- Sure, said god passing him the joint. So why did you come up here?
Illidan frowned for a little while, a sure sign his brain was trying to be active, bit his lips, looked around the cloud as if to find a reminder of some sorts, and finally shrugged.
- I’m not sure. I’m pretty sure I had a reason, cos I found a lighter in the fridge.
- A lighter in the fridge?
- Yeah. When I need to remember something, I put random things in weird places. Then when I find them, I’m like “Hey, if I did this, it means I need to remember something!â€
- And does it work?
- Well, half. I remember I need to remember something, but most of the time, I can’t actually remember what I needed to remember, if you know what I mean. And I guess this time, is one of those times…
- Nevermind, you can stay here and enjoy the view for a while if you want.
- Sweet, said Illidan.
He sat down, finished the joint, and munched on some nearby Haribos. Illidan had never noticed how Kali had such delicate eyebrows, and such a cute little smile. And those eyes, so deep and mysterious…
- Don’t even think about it, said Kali with a frown.
- Sorry.
………………………………………… ……………………………………………….
“Isn’t everyone a little gay? I mean, it’s obvious no one is either completely straight, or completely gay. You tend to go one way more than other, but even Rambo is sensitive to male beauty, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered making his body the way it is. So if everyone is sensitive to male beauty, then isn’t it the case that everyone has gayness inside them, and really only suppress it? If sex is purely for pleasure, then bisexuality is really the way forward, otherwise you’re just cutting off half the potentially attractive population. Sure, a %@$% in the *** might hurt, but isn’t pain an intricate part of pleasure? Or is that just S&M? And do all these thoughts make me gay, just by the fact I have them?†As all these thoughts circled inside Thrall’s head, he could not quite figure out what do to with them. He felt both ashamed to have them, and yet strangely adventurous for having them. He didn’t especially want to shag his mother, but did feel that the lack of a masculine presence in his youth has altered his psychological complexion. And this funny feeling everytime he held a shotgun in his hands… Phallic symbol? Power trip? Was everything really black and white, gay and straight, or was it all just shady shades of grey? And wasn’t the macho narcissism of guns and muscles just a form of self-directed-gayness?
Unfortunately, the answers are much harder to find than the questions. And he was, after all, just a teenage warrior, as confused as every teenager with half a brain can be. He picked up his axe, walked up to Arthas, and slashed his little finger off.
- That’s for my dad.
But Arthas barely moved, and kept on rambling about dragons, fannies, and pleas for forgiveness. Thrall looked at him with pity, and bandaged his finger so as not to let him bleed to death. He knew who was to blame for turning Arthas into a gimp. The one and only Onyxia. She was the one that took away his right to a proper revenge on his dad’s executioner by turning him into a gimp. She was the one who stole his right to atone the pain. The war was not over. It had only just begun.
Sylvanas took out the little piece of paper from her pocket. “Bloody Taurens, when will they learn how to write…†She tried to decipher the scribbling, map, and little instructions that Cairne had left her: “Head, to Stormwind, go to the big place in the middle with the shopping mall, turn right, follow the little rivery thingy on your right, look out for a castle thingy, go in, go down, and there is Shaman. Don’t forget the bread and milk, or we’ll have plainstrider porridge for breakie tomorrow.†Sylvanas scratched her head, wondered how Taurens could make porridge without milk, and tried to follow the instructions. The City was completely empty, save for a couple of corpses on the market square. She turned right, followed the canal for a bit, smiled at her architectural prowess, back in the days she was made of coordinated flesh and bones. Finally she found the Keep, and entered it. “I can’t believe they turned my disco into a prisonâ€, she thought shaking her head. As she strolled around the empty fortress, she saw a neon sign saying “Prison (ex-disco)†pointing downwards. She followed it, and found herself face-to-face with a healthy looking orc-looking guy, who could only be shaman.
- Mr Shaman?
- Yep.
- Hi! Nice to meet you, my name is Sylvanas, and I’m here to rescue you!
- No offence girl, but you look like the one who’s in need of rescuing.
- Ha, I was warned you were a funny one. I’m an “undeadâ€, as they call me. That’s why I look like a half-eaten corpse.
- Sweet. So… where are you taking me?
- To Orgrimmar. Though I was told you had Astral Recall, and only needed to be freed from, erm… let me check.
She took out the little piece of paper, had a quick browse, and finally said:
- Ah, that’s it, “free Mr Shaman from the shackles of human oppression, so his spirit can foam back to us.†Those Taurens, hey, always trying to be “poetical†and all…
- Foam?
- Erm… Soar, maybe?
- Yeah, that must be it. Very nice.
- So… Any idea where the key is?
- Yeah, on that table over there.
- Ah, I see. Security not very high here, is it?
- No. Though it was a tad better before the Scarletians left. But, now with all the revolutionary stuff going on, it’s a bit of a joke.
- Alright, well, that was a doddle, wasn’t it? I guess I’ll see you around, next time the humans decide to commit mass-suicide or something…
And yet, neither Mr Shaman, casting his Astrall Recall, nor Sylvanas, getting on her undead horse, had any idea that in the room above, the highly secretive and ruthless CRAP meeting was in full flow.
- Ladies, gents, stoners, dwarves, gnomes, and normal people, hear, hear. I hereby declare the Committee for Revolutionary Affairs and Powers session under way. Can I just open my statement by saying that I am tremendously pleased to have you all gathered around this table. And what a fine crowd this is! Survivors from the Great Wars, stupendous Engineers, Dwarf Warlords, Hungry Stoners, and of course, our beloved Lady Prestor whom, after her strip-tease, deserves more than ever her title of “Ladyâ€. Now, I was told to open with a joke, so here goes: Two fish in a tank. One of them says to the other “how the !&$% do you drive this thing?†Ha! Now that the humour is done and dusted, let’s get on with the serious business. After the debacle of the Scarletians, and their costly and pointless war, we have decided that all humans should be equal at birth!!
- Sorry, could we please change that statement to “All humans, gnomes, dwarves and stoners should be equal at birth� It feels more inclusive that way.
- I think you’ll find that gnomes, dwarves and stoners are technically “humanoidsâ€, and therefore do fall under the generic “human†term.
- Maybe, but I would still like the Honourable Human to change the statement, for the purposes of clarity, and to ensure that non-learned members of the public are aware that all races are included.
- Excuse-me, said a stoner, we object to the term “raceâ€, since technically we are not a separate race, simply a organically-modified version of humans. We find it offensive to be labelled a “raceâ€.
- Fine, fine, fine. The statement shall now read “All humans, organically-modified-stoners-ex-humans, gnomes and dwarves should be equal at birth.†Is that better?
Everyone nodded. The Honourable Human continued.
- Once they are born, however, they shall be ranked according to how much times they spend killing random stuff. Anyone who is not a “Masterâ€, a.k.a. “lvl60â€, shall be henceforth named a “Noobâ€. Different variations of the word are allowed, as long as they sound kinda like “Noobâ€. Humans, dwarves, gnomes and –organically-thingy-stoners are equal at birth, but they are also born free!! Hurray! Once they are born, however, they are advised to join a clan, or guild, otherwise they’ll be pretty much lonely and no one will want to party with them. It is also highly recommended that they start killing random stuff as quickly as possible, otherwise they’ll have $!@%ty clothes, $!@%ty equipment, and no friends. Apart from this equality and freedom, all people from the Alliance are free to live as they wish. This freedom, however, is limited by the obligation to kill random stuff, kill Hordies, take part in raids, die quite a lot, and explore the “Dungeons†that our beloved Lady Prestor prepared for us as, as she put it, “practiceâ€. We thank her for that. Now, in order to preserve some sense of hierarchy, we put forward the motion that the 4 year-old boy should remain King, since he is pure and can’t be corrupted, except by Mars bars and Haribo, which are therefore banned.
-Can I raise an objection to object?
- Sure…
- How can we call ourselves “Revolutionaryâ€, thereby implying that somehow we’re kinda communist, and yet have a King and a Lady Regent? Isn’t that like… a Monarchy? Or are we a Revolutionary Communist Monarchy?
- I think the technical term is “The National Liberation Front for Revolutionary Monarchical Parliamentary Communism.†Or NLFRMPC, in short.
- Does this mean we get to share the means of productions, and own the capital, and do sit-ins in factories, and hang capitalists by the ********* Or just that we wear red?
- Mostly that we wear red, however, if you really want to hang capitalists by the ********* I guess you could try making a formal query to the “Formal Query for the Hanging of Capitalists by the Testicules Committeeâ€. I did hear they were quite busy lately, but you can always try… Now, the technicalities of…
And while the humanoids were busy discussing how to render a simple life complicated the Great God of the Wow was lighting his first joint of the day. Indeed, it was already midday.
- You know Kali, I think I might invent a “Silence†spell to make these humans shut up. They talk far too much.
- When they’re not talking they’re fighting, so really it’s not that bad. I think you’re just getting grumpy with old age…
- Old age?! I’m God… God doesn’t grow old, does he? I know Nietzsche said God was dead, but I reckon he died of boredom, or frustration, but certainly not old age.
- Well, I don’t want to be picky, but you’ve had an ankle injury for 6 months and it’s still not healed properly. And the last time you climbed up the Great Tower of Illidan, you almost threw up cos you climbed the steps two at a time! It wouldn’t have happened when you were young…
- I blame the weed… Seriously man, I’m thinking about going to rehab.
- And leave the world alone?
- Just for a little while… I don’t know, I need to think about it… It’s not like I’m needed here anymore. And sometimes I wonder if this whole world isn’t just in my head. It’s so weird and screwed up and nonsensical…
- A bit like the Matrix?
- Yeah, but with better acting.
- Hey Mr God, said Illidan.
- Hey Illidan, said God and Kali visibly pleased. How are you doing?
- Meh, not bad, thanks. Bit of a headache from last night, and my kids are giving me grief, but apart from that, it’ all good.
- Which kids?
- The Kodo ones. For some reason they’re all pissed up that I raped their mum… I tried to explain, but kids are so ungrateful; nowadays. They just don’t realise all the sacrifices I had to make for them!
- Like what?
- Like… Erm… Well… Ok, maybe not “sacrifices†as such, but you know, I think about them sometimes. Can I have a toke?
- Sure, said god passing him the joint. So why did you come up here?
Illidan frowned for a little while, a sure sign his brain was trying to be active, bit his lips, looked around the cloud as if to find a reminder of some sorts, and finally shrugged.
- I’m not sure. I’m pretty sure I had a reason, cos I found a lighter in the fridge.
- A lighter in the fridge?
- Yeah. When I need to remember something, I put random things in weird places. Then when I find them, I’m like “Hey, if I did this, it means I need to remember something!â€
- And does it work?
- Well, half. I remember I need to remember something, but most of the time, I can’t actually remember what I needed to remember, if you know what I mean. And I guess this time, is one of those times…
- Nevermind, you can stay here and enjoy the view for a while if you want.
- Sweet, said Illidan.
He sat down, finished the joint, and munched on some nearby Haribos. Illidan had never noticed how Kali had such delicate eyebrows, and such a cute little smile. And those eyes, so deep and mysterious…
- Don’t even think about it, said Kali with a frown.
- Sorry.
………………………………………… ……………………………………………….
“Isn’t everyone a little gay? I mean, it’s obvious no one is either completely straight, or completely gay. You tend to go one way more than other, but even Rambo is sensitive to male beauty, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered making his body the way it is. So if everyone is sensitive to male beauty, then isn’t it the case that everyone has gayness inside them, and really only suppress it? If sex is purely for pleasure, then bisexuality is really the way forward, otherwise you’re just cutting off half the potentially attractive population. Sure, a %@$% in the *** might hurt, but isn’t pain an intricate part of pleasure? Or is that just S&M? And do all these thoughts make me gay, just by the fact I have them?†As all these thoughts circled inside Thrall’s head, he could not quite figure out what do to with them. He felt both ashamed to have them, and yet strangely adventurous for having them. He didn’t especially want to shag his mother, but did feel that the lack of a masculine presence in his youth has altered his psychological complexion. And this funny feeling everytime he held a shotgun in his hands… Phallic symbol? Power trip? Was everything really black and white, gay and straight, or was it all just shady shades of grey? And wasn’t the macho narcissism of guns and muscles just a form of self-directed-gayness?
Unfortunately, the answers are much harder to find than the questions. And he was, after all, just a teenage warrior, as confused as every teenager with half a brain can be. He picked up his axe, walked up to Arthas, and slashed his little finger off.
- That’s for my dad.
But Arthas barely moved, and kept on rambling about dragons, fannies, and pleas for forgiveness. Thrall looked at him with pity, and bandaged his finger so as not to let him bleed to death. He knew who was to blame for turning Arthas into a gimp. The one and only Onyxia. She was the one that took away his right to a proper revenge on his dad’s executioner by turning him into a gimp. She was the one who stole his right to atone the pain. The war was not over. It had only just begun.
Quote:
As always after a pointless bloodbath, they sang funky little religious chants, of which “We rape! We kill! We slay! We’ll all go to heaven on Judgment Day!†was probably not the most accurate.
Please "talk up" if your comprehension white-shifts. I will use simple-happy language-words to help you understand.
Quote:
He sat down, finished the joint, and munched on some nearby Haribos. Illidan had never noticed how Kali had such delicate eyebrows, and such a cute little smile. And those eyes, so deep and mysterious…
- Don’t even think about it, said Kali with a frown.
- Sorry.
- Don’t even think about it, said Kali with a frown.
- Sorry.
Woah, I almost accused Phoenix of ninja'ing his own story.
I thought someone was "borrowing" your story without quoting:
http://forums-en.wow-europe.com/thread.aspx?FN=wow-general-en&T=534701&P=1
Didn't know you played on the EU servers.
I thought someone was "borrowing" your story without quoting:
http://forums-en.wow-europe.com/thread.aspx?FN=wow-general-en&T=534701&P=1
Didn't know you played on the EU servers.
Please "talk up" if your comprehension white-shifts. I will use simple-happy language-words to help you understand.
he posted more their than here Sir justdistaint wrote:
he posted more their than here I vote we lynch him!
First of all, I want to apologise for not posting the end of the story there first. As you know, I started posting here, and it's because of you guys that I continued writing this silly story. I loved doing it, and so I must say a big THANK YOU to all of who posted between the chapters. Thank you.
Second, there are two reasons why I didn't post it here first. one, my work filter has decided that the EU wow boards were ok, but that the Alla one must be banned. No idea why, but that's the way it is. Since I do all this from work, it was easier to post it there first. Second, I wanted to include you guys in the end of the story. But because, unlike with the official boards, I don't know what classes/races you play, it made it impossible to be accurate :(
I tried to include anyway, but the race is bound to be wrong. So sorry for this, but thanks for everything.
Anyway, here goes:
Edited, Mon Nov 21 17:36:08 2005 by RedPhoenixxxxxx
Second, there are two reasons why I didn't post it here first. one, my work filter has decided that the EU wow boards were ok, but that the Alla one must be banned. No idea why, but that's the way it is. Since I do all this from work, it was easier to post it there first. Second, I wanted to include you guys in the end of the story. But because, unlike with the official boards, I don't know what classes/races you play, it made it impossible to be accurate :(
I tried to include anyway, but the race is bound to be wrong. So sorry for this, but thanks for everything.
Anyway, here goes:
Edited, Mon Nov 21 17:36:08 2005 by RedPhoenixxxxxx
Chapter 21 (part 1),
Or “How all good things come to an endâ€
Or “How the end is just the beginning is just the end is just the beginning is just etc…â€
It had been a long, lonely walk home. The deserts of ice, of sand, the forests, the marshes, all those weird and unexplored lands, each giving a peculiar sense of insecurity and vulnerability to newcomers, all the random creeps he had to plough through, it was all worth it if only for this moment. The return of the Great Warrior. All the Orcs were gathered near the entrance to Orgrimmar, chatting, arguing, duelling, wondering if a level 60 hunter could really pwn a shadow priest, or how rogues were just creatures of Satan. And when Thrall’s bulky figure finally silhouetted through the Durotar landscape, a great cheer erupted from the crowd. He could only muster a little smile, as he wondered what the hell he could tell his fellow Orcs. Quashing the rumours surrounding his sexuality? Telling them about Prestor, the Trolls, or how he could not bring himself to kill Arthas? The cries of “Speech! Speech!†were getting louder and louder. A few Orcs had started to run towards their hero. Mr Shaman was one of them, and when he finally got within reach of Thrall, he laid his arm around his shoulder and gave a little squeeze.
- You gotta speak to them, they’re all here to hear you.
- To be honest, said Thrall, I’m not sure what to say.
- Just say whatever comes through your mind
And as Thrall reflected upon the impact telling them he might be gay would have, he saw a glimmer of a tall, green shadowy figure amongst the crowd. But before he could inspect this any closer, the figure had disappeared, and he found himself standing on a rock in front of a silent, gasping, adoring crowd.
- My beloved Orcs, Taurens, Mulos, and dead people.
- Undead!!
- Whatever. Nice to see you all gathered here today. From what I was told, there are refreshments at the back, and some cookies too.
- Dark chocolate?
- Milk, I think. Anyway, help yourselves. Now, this is going to sound kinda weird, but here goes anyway. As you know, we are a civilisation geared for fighting and killing.
- And raping!
- Yeah, and raping too, if you’re into that kind of thing, I guess.
- And pillaging!
- Yeah, whatever. Anyway, that’s why we exist, and that’s what we do for a living. Which is fine. But there comes a time in a man’s life, when enough is enough. And that time has come for yours truly. I got revenge for my dad. Which was all I really ever wanted. And now this is done, I don’t have any desire to kill, or fight.
- Or rape?
- I’ll come back to that later. Anyway, my head is now filled with visions of a quiet life in the countryside, in a little cottage deep inside Ferelas, where I would grow some plants and maybe have a few cows, and chickens, and then at night I would sit by the fire place and read a good book, like “War and Warâ€, by my good friend Cairne.
- What about the rapes?
- Yes, yes, I was getting to that. You might have heard some rumours about me over the last few weeks.
- Like the fact you’ve got three testicules?
- What? Who on earth said that? No, no, I only have two, that’s not it.
- Like how you and Cairne hold hands when you walk together?
- What? No, that was just once, and we were in the marshes and it was slippery and I almost fell, and you know Taurens don’t have “hands†as such, they have hooves, so anyway, whatever, no that wasn’t it either. No, I was talking about the whole “Thrall is gay†rumours.
Whatever Thrall expected from the crowd did not arrive. His last sentence plunged them into a deep, dumfounded silence, which was only broken by a few Orcs who couldn’t help themselves.
- Thrall is gay?
- No, no, said Thrall quickly, that’s the whole point, I’m not!
- Who said you were?
- No one, I guess, it’s just that, well, erm… Could we just pretend that I didn’t say the last bit about being gay?
- Are you?
- No no, I’m not, I swear! That’s’ what I wanted to say, I’m so not gay, hahaha. Definitely not. Not even a little bit. Cos some people say that everyone is a little gay, but…
Thrall stopped mid-sentence, wishing he had just kept his mouth shut instead of sliding down this slippery road that was obviously loaded with $!@%-filled landmines. He also realised that a discussion about his non-gayness was probably not the kind of thing a bunch of blood-thirsty Orcs really wanted to hear from their leader.
- So anyway, to sum-up, not gay, peaceful, self-defence, good luck, kthxbye. And not gay!
Thrall jumped off his rock, and marched rapidly towards Orgrimmar itself, wishing he could teleport inside the Valley of Honour, dig a hole, and bury himself in it until people had forgotten that God-awful speech. But as he tried to hide his blushing by staring at the ground, Orcs would pat him on the back and tell him that even if he was gay, it wwas alright, they didn’t mind really, better than shagging Kodos anyways. But Thrall did not have the strength to respond, and kept walking until he finally arrived in his room, and sat on his throne. He ordered his guards to shut the gate, and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. What a freaking idiot he was sometimes…
- Haha, Thrall, you big sissy!
Thrall looked up and saw Cairne smiling wildly, and walking towards him.
- I thought I asked the guards to close the gate…
- Yeah, well, get some stronger ones cos they couldn’t close a matchbox if they tried. So… You finally came out of the closet.
Thrall had another vision of a shovel, a hole, and himself in it.
- I didn’t, it just came out wrong…
- What were you thinking, asked Cairne. Hehe “Ladies and Gentlemen, your most feared warrior is NOT gay! Hurray!†Hahahaha, sometimes Thrall…
- I know, I know, I suck. And no, I didn’t mean it like that either. Anyway, enough about the gay jokes, this isn’t Graham Norton’s. Can we change the subject?
- Sure, sure, said Cairne pretending to be serious. So… no more fighting, then?
- Not unless they come through these doors, no. You?
- Nah, I’m getting old mate. I’ll stay in Thunderbluff for now. Try to develop the place, ands tuff. Maybe install some lifts, cos climbing the mountain everytime is such a #@%$!. Especially with hooves!
- We’re so getting old…
- Yeah, but the new generation will take over. They are bloodthirsty, bored, and dumb as !&$%. Perfect combination for a war-loving race. I’m sure they’ll do just fine without us. Come with me.
Thrall and Cairne took a giant lion with wings to Thunderbluff, from where they observed the young fighters. A feisty warrior called Aronas was killing wolves, Tejata and Lavish were duelling each other, Raistal was lying down in the long grasses of Mulgore, watching the clouds as they went by, Loneradian was constantly falling off the walls of Thunderbluff trying to climb it. But the one that most caught their eye was a fat Tauren appropriately named Tomec, trying to take down a grey Kodo called Arra’chea.
- I bet you he was trained by Mr Shaman, said Cairne.
- I thought Taurens weren’t meant to kill Kodos…
- This one is evil, and we need his horn to build the Giant Lift.
- Cool.
………………………………… …………………………………………..
“Open your legs, breathe in, breathe out, and push!! Push!! Push!!†and at the third push, and a little green dragon popped out, and crashed on the floor. “And repeat. Breathe in, breathe out, and push!! Push!! Push!!†and another little dragon, red this time, popped out of her !@!@!@ one again. It had been the seventeenth today, and Onyxia was getting slightly sore around the edges, what with their wings, and horns and teeth and $!@%… As she was about to plop for the eighteenth time, she heard a knock on the door.
- Everything alright in there? You’ve been in the loo for a couple of hours, now. You constipated or something?
- **** off! It’s none of your business, go back to the Slag Pit and find yourself a girlfriend, knobhead.
And Onyxia concentrated some more, until another plop was heard, and another dragon was dropped. Yes, she did wish she could’ve done this in a slightly more private space than the Keep toilets. But when nature calls, you’d better answer it. Especially when it’s in Dragon form. And through the little window above the toilet seats, the dragons were leaving one by one, populating the forsaken lands and dungeons of the world, waiting for the day when their breakfast would come in the shape of an over-eager and under-equipped plated manburger.
……………………………………… ………………………… ……………………..
- Kids nowadays, man… So ungrateful. You create them, and then, bang, just like that, for no reason, they turn against you! I just don’t get it. It wasn’t like that when I was young, no sir, we had respect for our elders, and we didn’t spend all day “hanging outâ€, or “chillin’â€, or even just “hangin’â€, well I kinda did, but most other kids didn’t, they worked hard, and helped old ladies cross the road, and went to scout camps to learn how to light a fire with a penknife. But these days, it’s all “me, me, me…†and I, for one, am sick of it. Just like I’m sick of people who whine and complaint all the freaking time. Get some !&$%ing backbone instead of #@%$!ing, that’s what I say. You know?
But Illidan’s questions were answered only by the sound of eager young Elfs killing furlbogs. Illidan got up, wondered where the hell Tyrande had gone, and rolled himself another joint whilst trying to walk to the little village they had called Darnassus, which wasn’t easy, what with all the roots, and branches, and weed falling off the paper. But he managed it. That’s how good Illidan was at rolling joints and walking at the same time. A real pro. And he knew it.
With a proud little smile, and an overwhelming sense of well-being and being at one with nature, Illidan reflected upon the young fighters of The Tree. Some were incredibly impressive. Stealthing so as not to be seen, only smelled, he followed a group of young ones, named Lamnethx, JamieAzure, Loneradin, Truthseeker, and LordoftheTarus. “LordoftheTarus? What a silly name!†Illidan thought, and yet he was pleasantly surprised by their ability to kill $!@%loads of monsters with almost no down time, to speak only in this new youngster language they called OneThreeThreeSeven, and to do all this fighting without any herbal help. “Ashnak does seem a bit stoned, though.†Not all Stoners were as proficient as them, unfortunately. Illidan kept himself amused by watching one called Culgan die over and over again. As soon as he resurrected himself, he would run straight into a bunch of giant frog-like creatures that made horrible gargling sounds, and would die again. “We should really ban those horrible frogs from our tree. They suck, and this noise just breaks my karma and oneness with nature, man…†And he stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, watching the little Aronas, Lekowete, Atimus or Mjvecellio get on with their daily grind, safe in the knowledge the mantle had been passed to a new generation. He could already see himself sitting on the clouds of the Great God of the WOW, smoking joints all day, chatting to Kali, and taking foam baths in the evening whilst listening to some chilled-out reggae. “Paradise…â€
Or “How all good things come to an endâ€
Or “How the end is just the beginning is just the end is just the beginning is just etc…â€
It had been a long, lonely walk home. The deserts of ice, of sand, the forests, the marshes, all those weird and unexplored lands, each giving a peculiar sense of insecurity and vulnerability to newcomers, all the random creeps he had to plough through, it was all worth it if only for this moment. The return of the Great Warrior. All the Orcs were gathered near the entrance to Orgrimmar, chatting, arguing, duelling, wondering if a level 60 hunter could really pwn a shadow priest, or how rogues were just creatures of Satan. And when Thrall’s bulky figure finally silhouetted through the Durotar landscape, a great cheer erupted from the crowd. He could only muster a little smile, as he wondered what the hell he could tell his fellow Orcs. Quashing the rumours surrounding his sexuality? Telling them about Prestor, the Trolls, or how he could not bring himself to kill Arthas? The cries of “Speech! Speech!†were getting louder and louder. A few Orcs had started to run towards their hero. Mr Shaman was one of them, and when he finally got within reach of Thrall, he laid his arm around his shoulder and gave a little squeeze.
- You gotta speak to them, they’re all here to hear you.
- To be honest, said Thrall, I’m not sure what to say.
- Just say whatever comes through your mind
And as Thrall reflected upon the impact telling them he might be gay would have, he saw a glimmer of a tall, green shadowy figure amongst the crowd. But before he could inspect this any closer, the figure had disappeared, and he found himself standing on a rock in front of a silent, gasping, adoring crowd.
- My beloved Orcs, Taurens, Mulos, and dead people.
- Undead!!
- Whatever. Nice to see you all gathered here today. From what I was told, there are refreshments at the back, and some cookies too.
- Dark chocolate?
- Milk, I think. Anyway, help yourselves. Now, this is going to sound kinda weird, but here goes anyway. As you know, we are a civilisation geared for fighting and killing.
- And raping!
- Yeah, and raping too, if you’re into that kind of thing, I guess.
- And pillaging!
- Yeah, whatever. Anyway, that’s why we exist, and that’s what we do for a living. Which is fine. But there comes a time in a man’s life, when enough is enough. And that time has come for yours truly. I got revenge for my dad. Which was all I really ever wanted. And now this is done, I don’t have any desire to kill, or fight.
- Or rape?
- I’ll come back to that later. Anyway, my head is now filled with visions of a quiet life in the countryside, in a little cottage deep inside Ferelas, where I would grow some plants and maybe have a few cows, and chickens, and then at night I would sit by the fire place and read a good book, like “War and Warâ€, by my good friend Cairne.
- What about the rapes?
- Yes, yes, I was getting to that. You might have heard some rumours about me over the last few weeks.
- Like the fact you’ve got three testicules?
- What? Who on earth said that? No, no, I only have two, that’s not it.
- Like how you and Cairne hold hands when you walk together?
- What? No, that was just once, and we were in the marshes and it was slippery and I almost fell, and you know Taurens don’t have “hands†as such, they have hooves, so anyway, whatever, no that wasn’t it either. No, I was talking about the whole “Thrall is gay†rumours.
Whatever Thrall expected from the crowd did not arrive. His last sentence plunged them into a deep, dumfounded silence, which was only broken by a few Orcs who couldn’t help themselves.
- Thrall is gay?
- No, no, said Thrall quickly, that’s the whole point, I’m not!
- Who said you were?
- No one, I guess, it’s just that, well, erm… Could we just pretend that I didn’t say the last bit about being gay?
- Are you?
- No no, I’m not, I swear! That’s’ what I wanted to say, I’m so not gay, hahaha. Definitely not. Not even a little bit. Cos some people say that everyone is a little gay, but…
Thrall stopped mid-sentence, wishing he had just kept his mouth shut instead of sliding down this slippery road that was obviously loaded with $!@%-filled landmines. He also realised that a discussion about his non-gayness was probably not the kind of thing a bunch of blood-thirsty Orcs really wanted to hear from their leader.
- So anyway, to sum-up, not gay, peaceful, self-defence, good luck, kthxbye. And not gay!
Thrall jumped off his rock, and marched rapidly towards Orgrimmar itself, wishing he could teleport inside the Valley of Honour, dig a hole, and bury himself in it until people had forgotten that God-awful speech. But as he tried to hide his blushing by staring at the ground, Orcs would pat him on the back and tell him that even if he was gay, it wwas alright, they didn’t mind really, better than shagging Kodos anyways. But Thrall did not have the strength to respond, and kept walking until he finally arrived in his room, and sat on his throne. He ordered his guards to shut the gate, and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. What a freaking idiot he was sometimes…
- Haha, Thrall, you big sissy!
Thrall looked up and saw Cairne smiling wildly, and walking towards him.
- I thought I asked the guards to close the gate…
- Yeah, well, get some stronger ones cos they couldn’t close a matchbox if they tried. So… You finally came out of the closet.
Thrall had another vision of a shovel, a hole, and himself in it.
- I didn’t, it just came out wrong…
- What were you thinking, asked Cairne. Hehe “Ladies and Gentlemen, your most feared warrior is NOT gay! Hurray!†Hahahaha, sometimes Thrall…
- I know, I know, I suck. And no, I didn’t mean it like that either. Anyway, enough about the gay jokes, this isn’t Graham Norton’s. Can we change the subject?
- Sure, sure, said Cairne pretending to be serious. So… no more fighting, then?
- Not unless they come through these doors, no. You?
- Nah, I’m getting old mate. I’ll stay in Thunderbluff for now. Try to develop the place, ands tuff. Maybe install some lifts, cos climbing the mountain everytime is such a #@%$!. Especially with hooves!
- We’re so getting old…
- Yeah, but the new generation will take over. They are bloodthirsty, bored, and dumb as !&$%. Perfect combination for a war-loving race. I’m sure they’ll do just fine without us. Come with me.
Thrall and Cairne took a giant lion with wings to Thunderbluff, from where they observed the young fighters. A feisty warrior called Aronas was killing wolves, Tejata and Lavish were duelling each other, Raistal was lying down in the long grasses of Mulgore, watching the clouds as they went by, Loneradian was constantly falling off the walls of Thunderbluff trying to climb it. But the one that most caught their eye was a fat Tauren appropriately named Tomec, trying to take down a grey Kodo called Arra’chea.
- I bet you he was trained by Mr Shaman, said Cairne.
- I thought Taurens weren’t meant to kill Kodos…
- This one is evil, and we need his horn to build the Giant Lift.
- Cool.
………………………………… …………………………………………..
“Open your legs, breathe in, breathe out, and push!! Push!! Push!!†and at the third push, and a little green dragon popped out, and crashed on the floor. “And repeat. Breathe in, breathe out, and push!! Push!! Push!!†and another little dragon, red this time, popped out of her !@!@!@ one again. It had been the seventeenth today, and Onyxia was getting slightly sore around the edges, what with their wings, and horns and teeth and $!@%… As she was about to plop for the eighteenth time, she heard a knock on the door.
- Everything alright in there? You’ve been in the loo for a couple of hours, now. You constipated or something?
- **** off! It’s none of your business, go back to the Slag Pit and find yourself a girlfriend, knobhead.
And Onyxia concentrated some more, until another plop was heard, and another dragon was dropped. Yes, she did wish she could’ve done this in a slightly more private space than the Keep toilets. But when nature calls, you’d better answer it. Especially when it’s in Dragon form. And through the little window above the toilet seats, the dragons were leaving one by one, populating the forsaken lands and dungeons of the world, waiting for the day when their breakfast would come in the shape of an over-eager and under-equipped plated manburger.
……………………………………… ………………………… ……………………..
- Kids nowadays, man… So ungrateful. You create them, and then, bang, just like that, for no reason, they turn against you! I just don’t get it. It wasn’t like that when I was young, no sir, we had respect for our elders, and we didn’t spend all day “hanging outâ€, or “chillin’â€, or even just “hangin’â€, well I kinda did, but most other kids didn’t, they worked hard, and helped old ladies cross the road, and went to scout camps to learn how to light a fire with a penknife. But these days, it’s all “me, me, me…†and I, for one, am sick of it. Just like I’m sick of people who whine and complaint all the freaking time. Get some !&$%ing backbone instead of #@%$!ing, that’s what I say. You know?
But Illidan’s questions were answered only by the sound of eager young Elfs killing furlbogs. Illidan got up, wondered where the hell Tyrande had gone, and rolled himself another joint whilst trying to walk to the little village they had called Darnassus, which wasn’t easy, what with all the roots, and branches, and weed falling off the paper. But he managed it. That’s how good Illidan was at rolling joints and walking at the same time. A real pro. And he knew it.
With a proud little smile, and an overwhelming sense of well-being and being at one with nature, Illidan reflected upon the young fighters of The Tree. Some were incredibly impressive. Stealthing so as not to be seen, only smelled, he followed a group of young ones, named Lamnethx, JamieAzure, Loneradin, Truthseeker, and LordoftheTarus. “LordoftheTarus? What a silly name!†Illidan thought, and yet he was pleasantly surprised by their ability to kill $!@%loads of monsters with almost no down time, to speak only in this new youngster language they called OneThreeThreeSeven, and to do all this fighting without any herbal help. “Ashnak does seem a bit stoned, though.†Not all Stoners were as proficient as them, unfortunately. Illidan kept himself amused by watching one called Culgan die over and over again. As soon as he resurrected himself, he would run straight into a bunch of giant frog-like creatures that made horrible gargling sounds, and would die again. “We should really ban those horrible frogs from our tree. They suck, and this noise just breaks my karma and oneness with nature, man…†And he stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, watching the little Aronas, Lekowete, Atimus or Mjvecellio get on with their daily grind, safe in the knowledge the mantle had been passed to a new generation. He could already see himself sitting on the clouds of the Great God of the WOW, smoking joints all day, chatting to Kali, and taking foam baths in the evening whilst listening to some chilled-out reggae. “Paradise…â€
Chapter 21 (part 2),
- Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the First Annual Throw Your Limb in the Sewer Contest! I’m glad so many of you showed up. This promises to be a most exciting event, soon to rival curling in terms of sheer excitement and rotten flesh-pumping adrenaline. Now, the rules are simple: You can choose any limb you like, as long as it’s your own. Unfortunately, the Organisers are not responsible for any permanent damage that might be caused by the immersion of said-limbs into said-sewer, nor for any permanent loss of limb which may, and will undoubtedly, occur. The winner will be the participant whose limb remains in the sewer for the most amount of time before complete disintegration. He will receive a naked picture of Sylvanas, as well a new limb, which might coincide with the one he lost, as long as we have it in stock.
- So, what are you gone throw, asked Mazra.
- Not sure, replied Maruk.
- If I were you guys, I’d throw something heavy enough so it takes a while to disintegrate, but not too important for normal functioning. I threw my left arm in practice, and while it lasted a while, it’s kinda debilitating.
- Like for what?
- Well, replied Shananiginz, I can’t scratch my *** and pick my nose at the same time, I can’t use a shield, I can’t do handstands, erm, loads of things.
- Yeah that must suck, said Ssraistlin.
- The best thing to do is to throw an internal organ.
- Zantetsuken!! We thought you had redied!
- Yeah, well, I redied, then got undead again cos a priest called Nakad resurrected me, and so now I’m alive again! I mean, undead. I mean, I’m an undied undead, if you know what I mean.
- Gentlemen, Ladies, get your limb ready…
- Here goes, said Droash excitedly. I chose my liver!
- You have a liver?
- Yeah, man, I even got two! Want one?
- Sure, said Xlavisx. Mind if I throw it too?
- Na, go right ahead. Everytime I get pissed, it all falls down my jaw anyway, so no biggy.
- And…. THROW!!
As soon as they words were uttered, all the undead lined up in the courtyard of the UnderCity threw their respective limbs into the sewer. Massive and consecutives splashes ensued, engulfing all the contestants in radioactive acidic sewer water. They all cheered, and rushed towards the sewer to see which limb lasted longer. Most disappeared extremely quickly, except for something that looked a bit like a finger. After a couple of minutes, it was the only discernable object left in the sewer, and it was great pomp that the announcer screamed:
- And our first ever Winner of the First Annual Throw Your Limb in the Sewer Contest is none other than… Sylvanas! You go girl! And congratulations, you have just won, erm, well, yeah, let’s say, loads of pride and bragging rights for a year!
- Thank you, thank you, said Sylvanas. The secret is in the !&!@$! I just wanna thank God, I know you’re watching, and, erm, all the other guys that took part. I look forward to defending my title next year, and to more mindless killings of Humans! Hurray!
And the crowd of broken undead erupted in a synchronised “Hurray!!†which resonated all the way to the Scarlet Monastery.
……………………………… ………………………… ……………………….
It’s a sad and lonely world. So much misery, so much pain, and you can’t help wondering why. Why go through with this, what is the point of enduring all this suffering, of a cold and heartless God that allows parents to be murdered by religious fanatics, raped by Stoners, or made into Cornish Pastry. All this for what? They say everything balances itself out in the end, the good and the bad, the joy and the pain, but that’s just another lie. Tell me, what can make up for being an orphan? What can salvage the pointless existence of a Mulo that’s been cursed from the start? There is nothing that makes up for it. Nothing that makes you forget the pain of watching your brothers die. It’s all random bull$!@%, just a sad joke being played on defenceless beings, that didn’t even ask to come into this world. And as the night falls, you can’t help but think you’d be better off dead.
- Dude, you alright?
Little Sen turned around and saw a little Mulo crouching behind him.
- Yeah, I’m ok. Just, you know, feeling tired and stuff. You are?
- No, I’m ok. I just crouch cos I run out of breath quickly, something to do with my genetic make-up I think.
- No, I meant, what’s your name?
- Justdistaint.
- Well, nice to meet you mate.
- You too. It’s quite an honour to talk to you.
- Is it?
- Yeah, of course! You’re Sen, the greatest Mulo that ever lived! You’re a hero for all of us.
- Heh. Well, your hero is thinking about committing suicide.
- Are you kidding me?
- I wish.
- How come?
- Well if I was kidding you, it would all be a joke. But it’s not. I’ve just seen too much of this horrible world, you know. The truth is the ugliest thing there is.
- What do you mean?
- People… You know, they can’t face the truth. They sugar-coat it with all these beliefs of happiness, and God, and afterlife, and soul, and love, and all that crap. But all of that is a lie. The truth is that there is no God, that we are alone, and that if you lock a little kid in cupboard all his life and torture him daily, no one will come to save him. Worst than that, you won’t even be damned, or cursed. You might even win the lottery. It’s all just bull$!@%. There is no fate, or justice. There is only us, and the demons that guide us. So… can you tell me, what is the point?
Justdistaint thought about this for a little while.
- No, I can’t tell you the point. But I can tell you this. There are hundreds of other Mulos around these parts. Most have lost their parents too. Now, they might not have been through all the $!@% you went through, but they’re here nonetheless. And, unlike you, they want to do something with the time they have on this planet. Now, you tell me, Sen: If you can help these guys, if you can make their time here less miserable… isn’t that good? Doesn’t that make your life “worth it?â€
Sen thought about this for a moment. There was no escaping it from it. The boy was talking sense.
- I guess it does, said Sen reluctantly.
- I think, Justdistaint ventured, that your depression is really just selfish, with all due respect. It’s hard for you, I understand, but they need you. And they need me. They need every bit of help they can get. If you are too selfish to do that, fine. But don’t say there is nothing to live for. Your salvation will come, but only through others. You are not alone, that’s the whole point. Look at little Dendrak over there. He lost his parents too. But see how he’s trying to pick his nose with his trunk? Or the fat kid called Dacika. He’s only got one tusk, and all the other kids make fun of him. If you could explain to them that trunks don’t matter, but that it’s what the person does that counts, won’t you have made the world, our world, a better place?
Sen just shook his head. It was so obvious. It was time to grow up, to show them the way, like Justdistaint said, to find salvation through others. Not alone. Sen got up, walked up to Dendrak, stuck his finger in his nose, and pulled out a fat, green, slimy piece of snot. He stared into the eyes of Dendrak, and held his finger high.
- That’s the way you do it, kid.
……………………… …………………………………… ……………………………
- Before I leave, I’m just gonna change one thing. Death. It sucks. I just don’t want people to die anymore.
- So what, they’re all gonna become, like eternal?
- No. Well, kinda. I don’t know, we could just put a system in place so that if they die, they can walk back to their corpse and live again. You know, it would make me fell better about leaving, and it would kinda put the world on hold. And to be honest, I am sick of all the misery death causes. If that’s the last thing I do before I leave, my time here won’t have been completely pointless.
- Have you called the Priory yet?
- Yeah, I have. They reckon I need 6 months of detox and rehab. I just hope they don’t pump me full of medicinal drugs, I freaking hate those.
- I’ll come and visit you everyday!
- Thanks Kali.
- I’ll miss you.
- Yeah, I’ll miss this world too. Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t answered my pizza-ordering device that day?
- No.
- No, neither do I. Probably nothing, I guess. Or something. God Knows.
- Hehe. Have you packed yet?
- No, I’m kinda hoping Illidan’s gonna visit me one last time. I really liked him.
And the Great God of the WOW looked down on his thousands of children. The little Garden Gnomes in their screwed up city that was getting weirder by the day. He could just about see Imadam, Hothead, and Myana running away terrified at the sight of their City getting corrupted by the mini-mechanical-Gnome-like-creatures they had created. The gnomes were streaming out of there like crabs out of Jordan’s !&$%@ after a good night out. Most were heading towards Ironforge, where Nosebiter was welcoming them with open, but stout, arms. Kloker and Darog were handing out napkins, which the Gnomes used as sleeping bags for those cold nights in the mountains. One of those gnomes was brutally ganked by an Orc called Tommyknocker, who himself was killed by three humans who were coming back from a snowboarding holiday.
- Man, those orcs are stupider than I thought, said Lvkeniko. Coming here, in the middle of the day alone, what did he expect?
- It’s an honour thing, said Ringer.
- How’s the Flag Project coming along?
- Slowly, replied Skelzo. Maybe soon, but we have no further information at the moment. Check the official boards in Stormwind.
- !&$%ing official boards, said Holydush. They suck. It’s always the same $!@%. Once I made a request for some new shoes, it took them two weeks to answer, and they told me my shoes were working as intended! What a joke…
It was a funny sight. And The Great God of the Wow couldn’t help but shed a tear. He kept on waiting for Illidan, observed some humans called Jordy, Ona, Slade, Ishmanuel and Denilso attempt to kill a dragon. Theyf ailed miserably, and the Great God watched them run back to their corpse with a funny sense of pride.
- God?
- Illidan! Finally…
- Erm, yeah, I just came to ask if I could use your Jacuzzi tonight? You see, we’re heading out tot own with the boys, and I figured I might need it if ever I got lucky, as long as you don’t mind, of course, actually you can watch if you want, cos I don’t mind…
- Illidan, listen. The Jacuzzi is all yours. So is this place. I’m going into rehab, and it might take a while.
- You what? Why? Why would you do such a thing?
- Cos I’m getting old, and I cant think as much, and I’m tired of being addicted to this weed. It’s like… I just wannabe a normal God, you know… I created this place, and look how screwed up it is. And it’s all cos of the weed. So, I want to be clean from now on, and live my life the way it was meant to be lived, not constantly seeing through those happy-weedy goggles.
And God could’ve sworn he heard a little crack as Illidan’s heart broke.
- Man, I’ll miss you, said Illidan with a tear in his eye.
- Me too.
- It won’t be the same without you.
- I know, but you’re in charge now. What could possibly go wrong?
- Hehe, everything?
- Hehe, yeah probably. But at least you’ve good intentions. It’s all that matters. Anyway, I gotta go now, there’s a taxi waiting outside.
Illidan felt all empty inside.
- I, erm… Come back soon!
God turned around, gave Illidan a wink, and closed the door behind him.
- Kali?
- Yes mate?
- Can you sing me a song?
- Sure thing, buddy.
The End.
- Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the First Annual Throw Your Limb in the Sewer Contest! I’m glad so many of you showed up. This promises to be a most exciting event, soon to rival curling in terms of sheer excitement and rotten flesh-pumping adrenaline. Now, the rules are simple: You can choose any limb you like, as long as it’s your own. Unfortunately, the Organisers are not responsible for any permanent damage that might be caused by the immersion of said-limbs into said-sewer, nor for any permanent loss of limb which may, and will undoubtedly, occur. The winner will be the participant whose limb remains in the sewer for the most amount of time before complete disintegration. He will receive a naked picture of Sylvanas, as well a new limb, which might coincide with the one he lost, as long as we have it in stock.
- So, what are you gone throw, asked Mazra.
- Not sure, replied Maruk.
- If I were you guys, I’d throw something heavy enough so it takes a while to disintegrate, but not too important for normal functioning. I threw my left arm in practice, and while it lasted a while, it’s kinda debilitating.
- Like for what?
- Well, replied Shananiginz, I can’t scratch my *** and pick my nose at the same time, I can’t use a shield, I can’t do handstands, erm, loads of things.
- Yeah that must suck, said Ssraistlin.
- The best thing to do is to throw an internal organ.
- Zantetsuken!! We thought you had redied!
- Yeah, well, I redied, then got undead again cos a priest called Nakad resurrected me, and so now I’m alive again! I mean, undead. I mean, I’m an undied undead, if you know what I mean.
- Gentlemen, Ladies, get your limb ready…
- Here goes, said Droash excitedly. I chose my liver!
- You have a liver?
- Yeah, man, I even got two! Want one?
- Sure, said Xlavisx. Mind if I throw it too?
- Na, go right ahead. Everytime I get pissed, it all falls down my jaw anyway, so no biggy.
- And…. THROW!!
As soon as they words were uttered, all the undead lined up in the courtyard of the UnderCity threw their respective limbs into the sewer. Massive and consecutives splashes ensued, engulfing all the contestants in radioactive acidic sewer water. They all cheered, and rushed towards the sewer to see which limb lasted longer. Most disappeared extremely quickly, except for something that looked a bit like a finger. After a couple of minutes, it was the only discernable object left in the sewer, and it was great pomp that the announcer screamed:
- And our first ever Winner of the First Annual Throw Your Limb in the Sewer Contest is none other than… Sylvanas! You go girl! And congratulations, you have just won, erm, well, yeah, let’s say, loads of pride and bragging rights for a year!
- Thank you, thank you, said Sylvanas. The secret is in the !&!@$! I just wanna thank God, I know you’re watching, and, erm, all the other guys that took part. I look forward to defending my title next year, and to more mindless killings of Humans! Hurray!
And the crowd of broken undead erupted in a synchronised “Hurray!!†which resonated all the way to the Scarlet Monastery.
……………………………… ………………………… ……………………….
It’s a sad and lonely world. So much misery, so much pain, and you can’t help wondering why. Why go through with this, what is the point of enduring all this suffering, of a cold and heartless God that allows parents to be murdered by religious fanatics, raped by Stoners, or made into Cornish Pastry. All this for what? They say everything balances itself out in the end, the good and the bad, the joy and the pain, but that’s just another lie. Tell me, what can make up for being an orphan? What can salvage the pointless existence of a Mulo that’s been cursed from the start? There is nothing that makes up for it. Nothing that makes you forget the pain of watching your brothers die. It’s all random bull$!@%, just a sad joke being played on defenceless beings, that didn’t even ask to come into this world. And as the night falls, you can’t help but think you’d be better off dead.
- Dude, you alright?
Little Sen turned around and saw a little Mulo crouching behind him.
- Yeah, I’m ok. Just, you know, feeling tired and stuff. You are?
- No, I’m ok. I just crouch cos I run out of breath quickly, something to do with my genetic make-up I think.
- No, I meant, what’s your name?
- Justdistaint.
- Well, nice to meet you mate.
- You too. It’s quite an honour to talk to you.
- Is it?
- Yeah, of course! You’re Sen, the greatest Mulo that ever lived! You’re a hero for all of us.
- Heh. Well, your hero is thinking about committing suicide.
- Are you kidding me?
- I wish.
- How come?
- Well if I was kidding you, it would all be a joke. But it’s not. I’ve just seen too much of this horrible world, you know. The truth is the ugliest thing there is.
- What do you mean?
- People… You know, they can’t face the truth. They sugar-coat it with all these beliefs of happiness, and God, and afterlife, and soul, and love, and all that crap. But all of that is a lie. The truth is that there is no God, that we are alone, and that if you lock a little kid in cupboard all his life and torture him daily, no one will come to save him. Worst than that, you won’t even be damned, or cursed. You might even win the lottery. It’s all just bull$!@%. There is no fate, or justice. There is only us, and the demons that guide us. So… can you tell me, what is the point?
Justdistaint thought about this for a little while.
- No, I can’t tell you the point. But I can tell you this. There are hundreds of other Mulos around these parts. Most have lost their parents too. Now, they might not have been through all the $!@% you went through, but they’re here nonetheless. And, unlike you, they want to do something with the time they have on this planet. Now, you tell me, Sen: If you can help these guys, if you can make their time here less miserable… isn’t that good? Doesn’t that make your life “worth it?â€
Sen thought about this for a moment. There was no escaping it from it. The boy was talking sense.
- I guess it does, said Sen reluctantly.
- I think, Justdistaint ventured, that your depression is really just selfish, with all due respect. It’s hard for you, I understand, but they need you. And they need me. They need every bit of help they can get. If you are too selfish to do that, fine. But don’t say there is nothing to live for. Your salvation will come, but only through others. You are not alone, that’s the whole point. Look at little Dendrak over there. He lost his parents too. But see how he’s trying to pick his nose with his trunk? Or the fat kid called Dacika. He’s only got one tusk, and all the other kids make fun of him. If you could explain to them that trunks don’t matter, but that it’s what the person does that counts, won’t you have made the world, our world, a better place?
Sen just shook his head. It was so obvious. It was time to grow up, to show them the way, like Justdistaint said, to find salvation through others. Not alone. Sen got up, walked up to Dendrak, stuck his finger in his nose, and pulled out a fat, green, slimy piece of snot. He stared into the eyes of Dendrak, and held his finger high.
- That’s the way you do it, kid.
……………………… …………………………………… ……………………………
- Before I leave, I’m just gonna change one thing. Death. It sucks. I just don’t want people to die anymore.
- So what, they’re all gonna become, like eternal?
- No. Well, kinda. I don’t know, we could just put a system in place so that if they die, they can walk back to their corpse and live again. You know, it would make me fell better about leaving, and it would kinda put the world on hold. And to be honest, I am sick of all the misery death causes. If that’s the last thing I do before I leave, my time here won’t have been completely pointless.
- Have you called the Priory yet?
- Yeah, I have. They reckon I need 6 months of detox and rehab. I just hope they don’t pump me full of medicinal drugs, I freaking hate those.
- I’ll come and visit you everyday!
- Thanks Kali.
- I’ll miss you.
- Yeah, I’ll miss this world too. Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t answered my pizza-ordering device that day?
- No.
- No, neither do I. Probably nothing, I guess. Or something. God Knows.
- Hehe. Have you packed yet?
- No, I’m kinda hoping Illidan’s gonna visit me one last time. I really liked him.
And the Great God of the WOW looked down on his thousands of children. The little Garden Gnomes in their screwed up city that was getting weirder by the day. He could just about see Imadam, Hothead, and Myana running away terrified at the sight of their City getting corrupted by the mini-mechanical-Gnome-like-creatures they had created. The gnomes were streaming out of there like crabs out of Jordan’s !&$%@ after a good night out. Most were heading towards Ironforge, where Nosebiter was welcoming them with open, but stout, arms. Kloker and Darog were handing out napkins, which the Gnomes used as sleeping bags for those cold nights in the mountains. One of those gnomes was brutally ganked by an Orc called Tommyknocker, who himself was killed by three humans who were coming back from a snowboarding holiday.
- Man, those orcs are stupider than I thought, said Lvkeniko. Coming here, in the middle of the day alone, what did he expect?
- It’s an honour thing, said Ringer.
- How’s the Flag Project coming along?
- Slowly, replied Skelzo. Maybe soon, but we have no further information at the moment. Check the official boards in Stormwind.
- !&$%ing official boards, said Holydush. They suck. It’s always the same $!@%. Once I made a request for some new shoes, it took them two weeks to answer, and they told me my shoes were working as intended! What a joke…
It was a funny sight. And The Great God of the Wow couldn’t help but shed a tear. He kept on waiting for Illidan, observed some humans called Jordy, Ona, Slade, Ishmanuel and Denilso attempt to kill a dragon. Theyf ailed miserably, and the Great God watched them run back to their corpse with a funny sense of pride.
- God?
- Illidan! Finally…
- Erm, yeah, I just came to ask if I could use your Jacuzzi tonight? You see, we’re heading out tot own with the boys, and I figured I might need it if ever I got lucky, as long as you don’t mind, of course, actually you can watch if you want, cos I don’t mind…
- Illidan, listen. The Jacuzzi is all yours. So is this place. I’m going into rehab, and it might take a while.
- You what? Why? Why would you do such a thing?
- Cos I’m getting old, and I cant think as much, and I’m tired of being addicted to this weed. It’s like… I just wannabe a normal God, you know… I created this place, and look how screwed up it is. And it’s all cos of the weed. So, I want to be clean from now on, and live my life the way it was meant to be lived, not constantly seeing through those happy-weedy goggles.
And God could’ve sworn he heard a little crack as Illidan’s heart broke.
- Man, I’ll miss you, said Illidan with a tear in his eye.
- Me too.
- It won’t be the same without you.
- I know, but you’re in charge now. What could possibly go wrong?
- Hehe, everything?
- Hehe, yeah probably. But at least you’ve good intentions. It’s all that matters. Anyway, I gotta go now, there’s a taxi waiting outside.
Illidan felt all empty inside.
- I, erm… Come back soon!
God turned around, gave Illidan a wink, and closed the door behind him.
- Kali?
- Yes mate?
- Can you sing me a song?
- Sure thing, buddy.
The End.
Bravo! Now start working on something else I demand you too work!
J/K I doubt that can be toped
J/K I doubt that can be toped
Woohoo! Good job man! The only bad thing I can say about it is that it ended! Maybe you can do a little more eh? Explain how the Burning Legion fits into all this? Maybe they got a bit of ***** envy, or their planet didn't have weed to smoke so they've come to steal Teldrassil and Nordrassil. BTW, Is Nordrassil a giant weed tree that Illidan planted by accident and forgot about?
And thanks for the mention too man, although I guess this is a bad time to tell you that I've converted from undied-undead ganking and to hippy-stoner druidism. >.>
So... Erm keep up the good work! If you want to. >.>
Rate-ups!
And thanks for the mention too man, although I guess this is a bad time to tell you that I've converted from undied-undead ganking and to hippy-stoner druidism. >.>
So... Erm keep up the good work! If you want to. >.>
Rate-ups!
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