<A small box washed up near the docks of Ratchet, sealed air tight and covered in all forms of gunk you'd really rather not get on your hands and a picture of a pink fish. Inside is a small collection of Goblin-format tape reels for some form of audio device. Each are labeled from 1 to 5.>
<Tape 1>
*A whirring tape, the sound of water lapping against stone somewhere in the distance. A pattering of rain against glass and wood are a constant, the occasional rumble of thunder makes everything else barely audible*
So...wait...no, mm aha! Yeaaa, yea. There we go...
Just- wait, no! Wron- *static* Sorry, sorry... Wrong knob, mhmhm... Well then.
Hello Azeroth! I wonder if anyone out there can hear this, 'n y'know what? I rightfully don't care. No I don't, n-nn, no sir. OH! Sorry, right. Intrrroductions, eh? I'm th'one, th'only, th'god amongst goblins- CHACHA FIZZLECRANK! Yeeeaaa! Oh yea kids, just contain y'selves! And I'm broadcasting t'you from my new-found re-er...s'the word? Retail? Wah-ah-ah-ah...no. Lets say Island, yea!
Island that- doesn't that cover it? I suppose it does. Well! Here I am, on my island, with my own little light house and radio. And best of all, a basement just stocked FULLA rum. Yesss... A whole ships worth. NO. A whole armadas worth. An armada made'a of pirates! With poor livers!
Wait...maybe that wan'nt th'best idea in case some pirates decide t'swing by, eh? Oh well. As of things now, bein' trapped on a rock th'size of a oil drum isn't any better'n being shanghaied by pirates, now in'nt it? So, back t'buisness. S'been a week since I washed up out'ere, and 'bout two months since I left Kezan. My hopes'a returnin' after th'bruisers stopped lookin' fer me may, well...probably ain't happenin' now, is it? So what? I stole a couple'a bombs! S'not anything t'get all fussy about, now is't? But no. Nooooo. They have t'go an' put my face up on every wall.
"WANTED fer crimes against th'Trade Prince!" It'd say, with th'WORSE picture I ever seen! M'nose, yea? My nose- NOT THAT BIG! Y'bloody blue-footed fools...
<the next few minutes are full of heavy breathing and the sound of glass meeting glass, presumably a bottle and glass>
So, yea...here I am. Trapped out on this forsaken rock with nothin' to do but wait an' watch th'fog roll in. And drink.
But, surely I can't drink away th'next few days away... can I...?
<the tape ends>
<Tape 1>
*A whirring tape, the sound of water lapping against stone somewhere in the distance. A pattering of rain against glass and wood are a constant, the occasional rumble of thunder makes everything else barely audible*
So...wait...no, mm aha! Yeaaa, yea. There we go...
Just- wait, no! Wron- *static* Sorry, sorry... Wrong knob, mhmhm... Well then.
Hello Azeroth! I wonder if anyone out there can hear this, 'n y'know what? I rightfully don't care. No I don't, n-nn, no sir. OH! Sorry, right. Intrrroductions, eh? I'm th'one, th'only, th'god amongst goblins- CHACHA FIZZLECRANK! Yeeeaaa! Oh yea kids, just contain y'selves! And I'm broadcasting t'you from my new-found re-er...s'the word? Retail? Wah-ah-ah-ah...no. Lets say Island, yea!
Island that- doesn't that cover it? I suppose it does. Well! Here I am, on my island, with my own little light house and radio. And best of all, a basement just stocked FULLA rum. Yesss... A whole ships worth. NO. A whole armadas worth. An armada made'a of pirates! With poor livers!
Wait...maybe that wan'nt th'best idea in case some pirates decide t'swing by, eh? Oh well. As of things now, bein' trapped on a rock th'size of a oil drum isn't any better'n being shanghaied by pirates, now in'nt it? So, back t'buisness. S'been a week since I washed up out'ere, and 'bout two months since I left Kezan. My hopes'a returnin' after th'bruisers stopped lookin' fer me may, well...probably ain't happenin' now, is it? So what? I stole a couple'a bombs! S'not anything t'get all fussy about, now is't? But no. Nooooo. They have t'go an' put my face up on every wall.
"WANTED fer crimes against th'Trade Prince!" It'd say, with th'WORSE picture I ever seen! M'nose, yea? My nose- NOT THAT BIG! Y'bloody blue-footed fools...
<the next few minutes are full of heavy breathing and the sound of glass meeting glass, presumably a bottle and glass>
So, yea...here I am. Trapped out on this forsaken rock with nothin' to do but wait an' watch th'fog roll in. And drink.
But, surely I can't drink away th'next few days away... can I...?
<the tape ends>
Edited by Chachaa on 12/3/2010 2:39 PM PST
