Thursday, May 21, 2009

The Flight Of The Bone Chicken

(As previously indicated, I'm doing my character stuff today instead of tomorrow since I'll be out of town. Look for a post from Fuu in my absence. Hope you enjoy!)

This mount is really uncomfortable. How does a skinless bag of bones fly anyways? I would love to have the dragon that I've seen the warlock ride from time to time, but a Death Knight has a certain reputation to uphold. Flying around on a see-through mount is part of the experience.

It's not that being a Death Knight is all bad. I mean, I can eat whatever I want and never gain a pound. The boys sure do love me in plate too. The old shapeless cloth robes never did quite fly with me. I think I'm too curvy for them. Not forced curvy like those harlot space goats, all puffing out their A-cups like they think they're something special. The hussies. One does not need a tail to be sexy. Trust me. All it takes is a little navel showing and the macarena. Amirite?

Okay, so maybe I could use some pole dancing lessons from those elves, but it's not all about being a hoochie. I can take care of myself in a battle, and that's worth something to any practical man. Besides, when those gnomes start gettin' fresh, one sharp look from my burning blue eyes usually sends 'em runnin'. Is it bad that I find myself strangely attracted to blood elves? They're just so... pretty. I can't decide if I want to keep 'em at a distance with some icy chains or death grip 'em up close.

Battlegrounds are complicated nowadays. Which is why I'm putzing around with the Argent folks. They offered some prize money and reputation with the major Alliance players. I think we all know that us Ebon Blade cats need all the rep we can get. We aren't exactly the most loved kids on the quarter. That is, until I go polish my lance, then all of a sudden there's a crowd. What's up with that? Stupid giggling Gnomes.

Anyways, it looks like it's about time to land now. The scenery up here in northern Howling Fjord leaves something to be desired. The mountains aren't nearly as impressive as the Storm Peaks and it's rather bright here. Give me the gloom of Icecrown any day.

There's a small pond below me with a single patch of ice floating in the middle. Don't ask me how this patch of ice seems to remain perpetually frozen in this lukewarm climate, but it does. On it, encased in ice is another type of hussy: the Dryad. These chicks are almost as bad as those damned Draenei. The just have four hooves instead of two. Same posing for attention though. Especially in such a cold climate. You've been encased in ice, cover those things up, you'll poke out someone's eye. I'm surprised there aren't fifty gnomes camped out on this island full time. The buggers.

Oh look, there's a pretty druid flying by. Its speckled wing tips stretched out majestically as it rises slowly on the warm air current. They're so much more graceful than my bird, fighting the air with his bony claws. Hi, pretty druid. I wish I could turn into a bird. Oops, passed the lake. See what happens when I get distracted? Curse you druid!

I maneuvered the bone chicken onto the ice deftly, if I do say so myself. The clicking of its claws started to annoy me, so I quickly hopped off and approached the ice tombed Dryad. What was I supposed to do again? Oh, right, melt her. Because that's just want I want to do, converse with a Dryad for some overly pompous weaponry. A blade fit for a champion! Right.

Now where is that spark I stole from the so-called Lord Everblaze. Ha. Everblaze. As if! I mean, I dumped some ice on his head and he fell like Gnomeregan to the Troggs... (*crickets*) Too soon? Oh well, he was a pansy. Then again, aren't all men with self-important titles?

Anyways, I got his little spark thing and I guess I'm just supposed to like, toss it, at this icy tart. Oh swell, it worked, she's thawing out. At least this one doesn't talk as much as that stupid chick floating on the lillipads pining for flowers. Seriously, could you be more desperate?

Anyhoo, thanks for the weapon, put some clothes on, it's cold. I gotta jet, some dude with a title wants this as-soon-as-recycled-humanly-possible, I'm sure. Let me just rearrange these bones here so they don't ride up on me during the trip. I totally need a dragon. I think these greaves are starting to chafe me too. I suppose that's what I get for ordering them so tight. Oooh, there goes another druid.

Return the weapon. Focus, Dece, focus. Right, to the skies!

2 comments:

  1. all puffing out their A-cups like they think they're something special.Those Draenei chicks are bustin' out more than A's, lemmetellya.

    :P

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  2. IDK, they certainly have a startling spine curvature. *Shrug* it seemed a bitchy thing to say in any case :-D.

    Besides, it's not the tabard busting size of those human females... Do you have any idea how hard it is to craft plate armor for those things?

    ... because, you know, I sure don't.

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