World of Warcraft®

in the beginning
there was one source of light
that would die and come back every night
as a woman showing off her thighs
just a little bit at a time

in the beginning
everyone bowed their heads toward the light
they would dance and eat their friends alive
we were not happier then
but these were simpler times

now we all play
we’re the moth we’re the flame
we were aware of the danger
but we could not keep away
my eyes are open

05/16/2014 09:17 PMPosted by Rakeri

05/15/2014 08:58 AMPosted by Finnaeus

...

But two negatives equal a positive, so our nonsense combined makes sense.

./math

All science trembles before the searing logic of your fiery intellect.

*Blinks, and then pensively bites into his crayon*

Quite.

05/19/2014 08:52 AMPosted by Finnaeus

...

All science trembles before the searing logic of your fiery intellect.

*Blinks, and then pensively bites into his crayon*

Quite.

*Ponders the crayon thoughtfully then replaces them with highly caffeinated energy crayons*

And thusly is our mumble broken.

05/19/2014 04:25 PMPosted by Kordrion

...

*Blinks, and then pensively bites into his crayon*

Quite.

*Ponders the crayon thoughtfully then replaces them with highly caffeinated energy crayons*

What....what have you done?

WHAT MADNESS POSSESS YOU TO DO THIS!

*flees before his madness destroys the universe*

Wait a moment.... those aren't caffeinated crayons! They're glow sticks!

Night falls. The moon is covered in a blanket of thick, black clouds. Infinite darkness, nothing moves, except -

There. Across the distance. A vision of horror. A tree, glowing and frothing in madness, streaking through the forest, bird's eggs dropping from its boughs and smashing upon the ground. The tree flails its branches, screaming, ever screaming, the light dragging behind him like the tail of some insane comet.

*Cackles and leans back to pet one of the many druids found around the peak while watching the crayons melt*

Muahahaha...sooon...soon all my plans will come to fruition.

...

...

...Say do you think he's a fruit tree?

Crayons of an imperialistic tone can accomplish things mighty and wonderfully majestic.

Upon a blank canvas, a pastel path under the moon.
In a forest, a single tree grows – apples.
Lurking beneath, a dragon sleeps.
Plucking fruit will surely bring doom.
Flee! Across the water, wind in the sail pulls.
Make nine pies. The moose and porcupine eat.
Fall off the mountain – into a basket under a balloon.
Houses without windows have no souls.
In the morning your mother’s eyes will sheen.
Purple on the walls of your room.

05/21/2014 11:47 PMPosted by Kamdrin

Crayons of an imperialistic tone can accomplish things mighty and wonderfully majestic.

Upon a blank canvas, a pastel path under the moon.
In a forest, a single tree grows – apples.
Lurking beneath, a dragon sleeps.
Plucking fruit will surely bring doom.
Flee! Across the water, wind in the sail pulls.
Make nine pies. The moose and porcupine eat.
Fall off the mountain – into a basket under a balloon.
Houses without windows have no souls.
In the morning your mother’s eyes will sheen.
Purple on the walls of your room.

Beautiful.

They're also delicious.

05/21/2014 11:47 PMPosted by Kamdrin

Crayons of an imperialistic tone can accomplish things mighty and wonderfully majestic.

Upon a blank canvas, a pastel path under the moon.
In a forest, a single tree grows – apples.
Lurking beneath, a dragon sleeps.
Plucking fruit will surely bring doom.
Flee! Across the water, wind in the sail pulls.
Make nine pies. The moose and porcupine eat.
Fall off the mountain – into a basket under a balloon.
Houses without windows have no souls.
In the morning your mother’s eyes will sheen.
Purple on the walls of your room.

Holy !@#$.

Looks like Liore is out of a job.

Dark Grey lashes cover her piercing gaze as she narrows her eyes at the screaming tree. He had stopped, briefly, to tell her of a scrumptious stick-shaped fruit. Rarely did her stomach pang for sustenance and so she cared little to know this. Her question was more to the point of his mad streak across the landscape.

“Does the Light scare you, bark-ed one?”

Blood red lips pout prettily in the direction of the hooded priest.

“Such vile language.”

A pause as she shakes her head slightly at him, her cimmerian hair swaying.

“In the presence of a lady.”

“Tsk.”

“Tsk.”

Those eyes - deep and full of shadows, they follow the goblin, studying, trying to remember. The thought comes abruptly, jolting the woman out of her reverie. A long, gloved finger points.

“You promised me a dress.”

Nyah? I... did? Well there's a store sale this Sunday so...

A slow bob of the head, hair obscuring her dark expression for a moment, she offers a trifling smile.

"You have forgotten so soon?"

She waves a hand dismissively. "No matter. I cannot attend your sale this weekend as I have an appointment with the war chief." A sneer briefly touches her lips.

"You shall have to attend me some other day."

Lips part and jaw opens. Closes. Opens again.

Closes.

He is long, in sorting out exactly how he feels about being chided for his expression. But quick to compose himself, with a straightening of shoulders and a smoky 'ahem'. And while the fair creature is distracted by Mormel, the friendly neighborhood social tank, he sidesteps to confer with Finners.

"Nnh," he begins intelligently.

"I feel we have been upstaged. As it were."

Ocean eyes shimmer with luminous scrutiny.

"I am not entirely certain how to proceed."

Social tank!? That's... that's the most romantic thing anyone has ever said about me! ^_^

Finnaeus looked at Lio, the crayon dropping out of his hand having lost its purpose. The elf was beautiful, her words commanding attention. Liore was right, they had been upended on their own stage. Here was FInn, masquerading as a demented tree that eats crayons and has wildlife live in his branches, rambling inanely about something or other. And this new elf comes along, her dialogue practically poetry. It was almost enough to make him ashamed of himself.

"There's only one thing to do with someone who makes you feel worse, and inspires you to be better," Finnaeus said, his eyes narrowing. "Kill them."