Parody Craft ParodyCraft! Chapter One Just use your knowledge of warcraft 3 and use your imagination. ENJOY! In the deep wastes of the Barrens…a Human Castle stands atop a cliff. This bastion of human power has not gone unobserved. The Orcish Horde has learned of its secret location and it wishes to destroy it. A brave Tauren Chieftain has decided to aide a legion of orcs to take the castle…by FORCE! Ye Olde Interview: Orcish Warlord: So, you’re a hero? Chieftain: Last time I checked. Orcish Warlord: As a hero, you have certain spells and abilities? Hmm….you’re a Tauren Chieftain. According to your resume, of course. Chieftain: I have a resume? Orcish Warlord: Err…when you become a hero, the Altar Association makes up a resume. You didn’t know what? Chieftain: Well, I’m a little senile with age…maybe all those “peace pipes” hurt me a bit too… Orcish Warlord: You’re senile? Uh, let’s get off that subject. Let’s take a look at the abilities section of your resume. First up: War Stomp. Chieftain: Uh, more like a War Gimp now. I broke my hoof recently. I won’t stun units anymore. Instead, I limp at them dangerously. Orcish Warlord: <Long Pause> Ok…let’s look at your 2nd skill. Endurance Aura. It still works, correct? Chieftain: Well, not since Woodstock. Now it’s more like: Drag the Hero Around Aura. I’m so tired focusing my mind on working the aura, my troops have to drag me around the battlefield. Orcish Warlord: Uh…well, let’s look at your 3rd skill. Shockwave. At least THAT works, right? You’ve still got some muscle in you! Chieftain: Actually, it doesn’t work very well anymore. I don’t have enough strength in me to swing my halberd. I use it as a walking stick now. But I can use: Swing at Them Menacingly. I shake my fist and complain at them. Orcish Warlord: Does that work like a Mountain Giant’s taunt skill? Chieftain: Yes, yes it does. Except when I use the Swing at Them Menacingly skill, they don’t attack. They laugh instead. Then my army could get free hits. Orcish Warlord: Excellent! You stun them! …with laughter, but nonetheless, free hits are always a boon. Chieftain: There’s one problem though. The enemy laughs, sure, but so do my OWN troops. Orcish Warlord: …… And I became a warlord for this…? Ok, let’s look at your ultimate. Reincarnation. Does that work? Chieftain: Of course! It requires no power or strength to use! It’s passive! But…if I fall in battle, I can’t get up… Orcish Warlord: <Groan! > ……Wait! Don’t go! I know how to take advantage of you—uh, I mean how to use your…talented…services. I’ll give you command of a Legion of Grunts! You are to attack the human position with that army. Now off with you. Chieftain: …..Where’s the door? Orcish Warlord: Behind you… An hour later… Advisor: Sir, was it wise to give that senile old cow command of a legion of grunts? Orchish Warlord: Of course! You fool! They can’t even ATTACK the castle, it’s on a cliff! I sent them out as a diversion… Advisor: Ah, excellent, your evil, yet tastefully corrupt plan gives me goosebumps! Orcish Warlord: I don’t pay you to suck up! You can forget about that burrow in Florida! I’m not paying for it! by Koss_Knights ParodyCraft! Chapter 2 Just use your knowledge of warcraft 3 and use your imagination ENJOY! And so, with a legion of grunts at this command, the great, senile, old tauren chieftain sets out for the human castle. What tales of gruesome encounters, what tales of life and death battles will unfold for our great hero and his loyal troops? Journey to the Barrens Chieftain: Now where did I park my car…? Grunt Commander: Chieftain, may I ask what this “car” is? Grunt 1: Commander, I bet it is a huge, powerful, hulking, mobile fortress! With it’s own garrisons and weaponry! It sounds like it is big enough to fit us all in! Chieftain: Actually, it’s just a gas powered 4 seat gnomish vehicle I brought at that little Gnomish Car Dealer by the road. You know, the big gray tent? Grunt 2: A 4 seat mobile fortress? Grunt 3: ...what car dealer? Meanwhile, 20 miles away from the army… Bandit Leader: Who knew a fat cow would come across our mobile HQ? Bandit 1: Well sir, we did make it seem rather obvious. That tent was pretty big, even for the 5 of us. And why the hell did we have to pitch the gray one? Do all bandit camps have to be so bland and colorless? It’s so stereotypical! Bandit Leader: Bring me the thumb screws, would you? Bandit 2: Yes, of course! Bandit 1: Me and my big mouth… Bandit 3: It was still pretty smart of our leader to pose as a gnomish car salesman. Bandit Leader: Who knew that old, rickety death trap could be sold? I bet that guy was senile…he didn’t even ask about those screams coming from the back of the tent. That reminds me, how’s our prisoner? Bandit 3: He’s in a deep coma. Bandit Leader: WHAT?! Who told him to beat him up so much?! We needed him to squeal like a little girl! He had valuable deeds to a mansion, damn it! Bandit 2: Uh…sir. You told us to beat him within an inch of his life. And we did. As a result, he’s in a coma. Bandit Leader: I didn’t mean it! I did it to be dramatic! <Sigh…> Never mind, did anyone find any papers, perhaps deeds to his mansion? Bandit 1: I found some papers and such, sir! I didn’t deem them worthy of your time, so I used them to start our fire. Bandit Leader: Do I pay you? Bandit 1: No. I don’t get good life insurance either. Bandit Leader: YOU IDIOT! Those were the deeds to his mansion! On his 1st day of torture, he told me they were in his pocket! AND YOU THREW THEM IN THE FIRE?! Bandit 1: Well, if he told you where the deeds were, why didn’t you just take them?! Bandit 2: He was being dramatic…again. I swear, he always does this to all the new people we kidnap. Bandit Leader: It’s not my fault! My father was a great actor! And an intelligent director! I only want to follow in his footsteps! Bandit 4: Stop lying, he was a drunk and a womanizer. You’re just saying he was an actor to hide your compulsive urges to leave us here to rot, take off with the gold we’ve horded, and build your own theater, where people will pay an excessive amount of gold to watch your mediocre acting skills. And he wants to steal away our women! Bandit 5: We don’t have any women on this camp! Bandit 4: The Leader isn’t the only one who pretends in something that doesn’t really exist… Bandit 5: Hey…cut it out. Stop looking at me all funny! Don’t even think about it! I’m not a woman! Hey—stay away from me! I’m getting the hell out of here! Bandit 2: We lose more good bandits that way… Bandit 1: He sure can run though. Look at him go! Bandit Leader: What did he mean pretends? My acting career does exist! And it’s not mediocre! <Starts crying> I’m going back to my tent…sniff. And back at the Orcish Encampment… Chieftain: Ah! It only took me an hour, but I’ve finally found my car! …… Now where did I put my keys? All Grunts, in unison: Groan! By Koss_Knights ParodyCraft! Chapter 3! Just use your knowledge of Warcraft 3 and use your imagination. ENJOY! Night has fallen upon the Barrens. Who knows what adventures our hero will face now? We join them near the Orcish encampment, where the Chieftain and his loyal men search for an item of untold power! An item so all-important, the very world hangs in the balance… Chieftain: So, none of you found my car keys? Grunt Commander: Chieftain, we’ve been searching for hours! We don’t know where they are. Can we just move on with our mission? The journey to the Human Castle won’t take long. I suggest we look for the keys after our mission is complete. Chieftain: Very well, let’s move on then. 1 hour later, the army comes across a fork in the road. Which way will they go? Grunt Commander: Chieftain, why did we stop? Chieftain: There are two roads here, each with their own sign. Let’s see here. Left—Human Castle, 20 miles. “Enjoy the sights and smooth traveling.” Right—Human Castle, Abandoned Road, 100 miles. “Dangerous and Extremely Painful Journey.” Grunt 1: Well Chieftain, then I guess it’s settled. The choice is clear. We take the left road. Chieftain: No! It’s a trick! They’re lying to us! Quick, drag me to the right road, we will journey through there! Grunt Commander: Are you insane, Chieftain! That road will doom our entire army! We’ll be eaten alive by the monsters that lie in wait for us! Our every step will give our army pain and misery! We’ll never get to the Human Castle! All they’ll ever find will be our bleached bones, and broken armor! Do you hear me Chieftain?! We’re doomed! Doo- Chieftain: Snore! …zzzzzzzzzz….snore! zzzzzzzz…..zzzzzzzz…. Grunt Commander: CHIEFTAIN!! WAKE UP! Chieftain: zzzzzz…!!! Snort, wha? GRAB YOUR SWORDS MEN, THEY’RE ATTACKING! Die, Demon, DIE! Grunt 1: Wahhh! Don’t, ahhh! <Squish> Grunt 3: He..he sat on him… Grunt Commander: I think he’s…dead. Chieftain: Huh?! Oh, it was only a dream. Hmm, I think I sat on something. Commander Grunt: That would be one of my men…chieftain… Chieftain: Take heart, young ones. He’ll be fine. Grunt 3: Uh…commander? His spleen is on my boot. Grunt Commander: I guess when you hit old age, all that muscle sags down to your… well, you know. Meanwhile, back at the Orcish Encampment… Orchish Warlord: We are truly living in dark times. Have the scouts reported yet? Advisor: No, sir. Not a word. I’m afraid that if we don’t get the shipment soon, it’ll be all over. Orcish Warlord: I’ve waited to long for this day to come! This can’t be happening! I can only hope Lok’tar shines upon us in this moment of dread. Advisor: Sir! The scouts have just returned! The shipment is safe! I suggest you go out, and talk to your men. 15 minutes later… Orcish Warlord: Great warriors, I have an important announcement! The shipment we have all been waiting for has…ARRIVED! All Grunts in the room: W00T! PARTY TIME! Orcish Warlord: That’s right! The beer’s arrived! Grab your glasses and fill them up, ‘cause we’re going to party all NIGHT! All Grunts: FOR THE HORDE! YAAARRR! (Everyone takes a swig.) And so, with the beer shipment safe, the brave orcs can now get as wasted as only a true warrior can. But what of the brave Chieftain and his Legion of Orcs (minus one)? How are they faring? Let’s see… Grunt 5: We’ve been walking for hours…and not a single enemy! Perhaps the chieftain was right? Maybe the left road WAS a trick! Meanwhile, at the fork in the road. Footmen: Which way, Paladin? Paladin: Well, obviously not the right one! Why in the hell did I put the danger sign on that road? Footmen: Because…it’s dangerous? Paladin: You must’ve graduated top in your class. Only fools would venture forth that way… Footmen: But, look! Tons of tracks and footprints! Leading toward the right road. Paladin: Those poor devils… And back at the Right Road, the Legion of Grunts moves on. Just then! Grunt Commander: Look! That shadow! It might be a monster! Keep your axes ready men. There’s no reason to panic. Just keep calm, like the Chieftain is right….now…oh, no. Not again… Chieftain: DEFEND YOURSELVES! DEMONS! DEMONS FROM THE BLACK PIT OF HELL ITSELF! LET ME AT HIM! I’LL SMITE HIM WITH HONOR! Grunt 4: Groan! Chieftain! Don’t move so much! Your Drag the Hero Around Aura is too much for us… Chieftain: Quick! Slay it! Slay it, before it kills us all! And just then, out of the blackness of the trees, comes the shadow, into the moonlight. And out comes a terrifying, powerful… Grunt 2: A PIG?! Commander, it’s just a pig! Grunt Commander: …perhaps the chieftain over-reacted…it’s only a harmless pig… Chieftain: Everyone! Get back! I’ll slay the demon pig! Swoosh! Grunt 6: Oww! My foot! He stabbed my foot with his halberd! Chieftain: Oh, sorry. Swoosh! I got it! Now we have something to eat! Grunt 8: But there’s a legion of us…(minus one.) 2 hours later, with camp set up, the grunt commander is conversing with one of his men. Grunt Commander: What the hell is that Chieftain smoking anyway?! He went ballistic! Grunt 10: Well, he calls it his “peace pipes.” He says they make you at peace with the earth. He said if you smoke enough, you can “see your ancestors.” All I saw was my wife! Gah, as if I didn’t have enough nightmares! And back at the Orcish Encampment… Orc Sentry: Warlord! Reinforcements have arrived…with MORE BEER! W00T! All grunts: MY LIFE FOR THE HORDE! (Everyone takes a long swig.) By Koss_Knights ParodyCraft! Chapter 4! And just when you thought you would never see another chapter again… Night has given way to Day…in the Orcish Encampment, the brave warriors of yesterday are still fighting a battle against one MAJOR hangover…sadly, a losing battle. And at the Chieftains Campsite, the legion of grunts (minus one) have already packed up and are ready to journey forth, toward the Human Castle. Grunt 2: Chieftain, let’s move on. We’re ready to leave. Chieftain: Alright men! Let’s move toward those trees! Onward! Grunt 2: …but behind those trees are solid cliffs and rock…that area is impossible to navigate… Chieftain: Then I’ll get a path through those trees and cliffs using my mighty halberd! Stand back, and witness my awesome power! The Tauren Chieftain moves toward a particularly large bolder; he sizes it up, shrugs his mighty head, and shifts toward a smaller bolder, and then an even smaller one, until… Chieftain: Ah! This is as good a place to start as any! Stand back! Everyone, steer clear! Grunt 100: He’s not really going to bother with that small rock is he? Grunt Commander: I’m afraid so…and do you know what the sad part is? Grunt 100: What? You graduated last in officer school, got insulted by everyone in your class for being a moron, teacher included? Then your wife left you for your best friend, your burrow was taken away, you lost your son to a horrible axe-training incident, and then you learned you were really adopted? Then, as a joke, your superior officers gave you a dead end job babysitting a senile, old hero? If that’s the sad part, then I already know all about it, sir. Grunt Commander: uh…ahem. No, I didn’t mean it that way…I meant that the Chieftain isn’t even about to assault a rock…just a dirt clod he thinks is a rock. Grunt 100: Oh. Ah-ha. Ahem. Err, I’ll still get this months paycheck, right? Eh-heh. The Grunt Commander glowers angrily at Grunt 3, then says: Grunt Commander: Front of the line. You’ll be the 1st to attack and be attacked in case of an ambush or full-frontal assault. In fact, I’m also assigning you to dragging duty. Have fun dragging the Chieftain around when he turns on his “mighty” aura. Grunt 100: …me and my big mouth…funny that’s what his wife said back in… Grunt Commander: WHAT?! WHAT DID I HEAR YOU SAY?! Grunt 100: Oh! Uh...nothing, nothing at all. Grunt Commander: To the front! NOW! Meanwhile, in the back line, excited orc warriors wait for their chieftain to destroy a…dirt clod. Grunt 890: Yawn! I can’t believe he’s still preparing to attack that thing. Is he trying to work his “Drag the Hero Around” Aura or something? Chieftain: Snore! Zzzzzz… Grunt 891: Err…he fell asleep…again. Grunt 879: I’ll poke him. It should wake him up. And so, the grunt approaches the Tauren Chieftain, and gives him a mighty poke in the back… Chieftain: Zzzz…..*snort!* DEMONS! BACK TO TAKE ME AWAY! NEVER! SLAY THEM ALL! Swoosh! Grunt 6: …ow. He…missed my foot this time…but…got something more valuable… Grunt 890: Lok’tar have mercy! Right in the family jewels! Grunt 891: What the hell was he doing in the back line anyway? Grunt 6: I…was…replaced in the front…help…pain…excruciating…bleeding…from a place I shouldn’t…self-narration helping me slightly… Chieftain: Oh no! The demons have possessed him! I must perform an exorcism! Grunt 879: Actually, he was only sliced in the…* Chieftain: I SHALL SMOTHER YOU WITH MY MIGHTY AURA! Yar! *squish* Grunt Commander: Oh no! He sat on another one! Chieftain, for the last time, your aura doesn’t heal our warriors! Chieftain: Take heart, I’m only exorcising the demons in this warrior’s body. Grunt Commander: …by sitting on them. And I went to elite officer college for this…? Grunt  100: You never went to elite officer college! You went to community Officer College, for “special” cases. That’s what your wife said anyway… Grunt Commander: What the hell are you doing back here anyway!? Get back to the front! NOW! Grunt 100: Excuse me Commander, but there is a warden and a band of several night elves blocking our path… Grunt Commander: Only several?! And they’re blocking a legion of us?! I must see this for myself. Chieftain: I shall go too! And so, with a great heave, the chieftain gets up, leaving a broken yet “exorcised” body. At the front-line… Grunt 1: Lok’tar! Look at the middle one! Meeeow! Grunt 2: Hubba, Hubba! They’re armored in ALL the right places! Grunt 5: Is that what you call their bikinis? Yeehaw! Grunt Commander: What’s the hold-up, men, what’s goin-oh. I see. I’m happily married, however. Their good looks will not affect me. Grunt 100: Well, I’m glad your keeping true to your vows, commander. You’re very kind as well. Sharing your wife and all… Grunt Commander: …sharing…? WHAT?! GET BACK HERE! Grunt 50: There goes another one…they either run away or get sat on by our hero…we lose more good grunts that way… Warden: You will not pass through here! It is a sacred place! Before the Barrens were formed, the Night Elves built a great city here. This place was once a peaceful, lush place. Filled with trees, and gardens, this place was a sanctuary for traveling night elves and the denizens of the Kalimdor Continent. We protected this place for eons, and helped all those in need. You are strangers, and you may not pass anywhere near the ruins of the once great city of…hey! Are you even paying attention?! Legion of Grunts and Chieftain: Snore! Zzzzzzz….snore….zzzzzzz….snore… Warden: Groan! Archers! Jiggle a little bit. It will get their attention. As the night elves jiggle their…main form of attack, the grunts awaken from their slumber. Warden: I see a Chieftain is in your force. We shall settle this in a 1vs1 hero battle. Step forth. Chieftain: If only we had a hero commanding our forces! Grunt Commander: Uh…you’re the hero. Chieftain: Oh. We’re screwed then… And so, with confidence brimming within the chieftain and his troops, the great hero steps forth to challenge the Warden. With his troops support and confidence, he’ll be sure to win! Grunt Commander: We’re doomed. Grunt 4: I hope he finally dies…uh, I mean, go chieftain, go! Warden: Let’s see if you can catch me when I use: Blink! Chieftain: Huh?! Where’d she go?! Where’d she go?! SHE-DEMON! MOO! DEMON FROM HADE’S GATES! Warden: ? I didn’t use that ability yet…I’m right here…in front of you. Grunt 7: Did he just “moo”? Warden: Hmm, I guess I should start! SHADOW STRIKE! With that said, the warden releases her poisoned dagger, which hits the Chieftain at high speeds. Warden: Ha! It’s over! The poison will slowly…kill…you? Grunt Commander: It’s stuck under his armpit… Chieftain: Hmm? Oh, you dropped something. Here, catch! Warden: No! The Chieftain hurls the dagger back, and it hits the warden in the heart. 5 minutes later, she is dead, and the night elf archers disband…much the grunts dismay. Grunt Commander: Well…that’s one way of doing it…let’s move on. We’re almost near the castle. Meanwhile… Paladin: Damn, where’s my book? I must’ve dropped it while we were traveling… Footmen: This does not bode well, sire. That book contains all your spells… Paladin: No, not really. My spell book is chained to my hip. I’m talking about the book I took from the public library. Did you see it anywhere? Footmen: …and they wonder why the Undead took control of Lordereon so easily… And so, the tides of battle are staring to flow…tune in next time, when the Orcs start their siege of the Castle…hopefully. Chapter 5 to come when I have some more time again. ParodyCraft Chapter 5! The Siege of the Human Castle story by Koss_Knights updated 2003-10-07 If you want to publish something funny here, mail it to MacMark. SPECIAL GUEST STAR APPEARANCE BY: ???? The brave Chieftain and his loyal men have finally located the Human Castle. The legion looks up at its majestic walls and beautifully crafted statues that dot the top of the castle. All the grunts seem to hold their breath, for they have finally realized the time has come…TO SIEGE THE HUMAN CASTLE! Grunt Commander: …where’s our catapults? Grunt 45: Sir, we had the 10 catapults safely secured before we moved on. That ancient night elf city provided us with ample wood to make beautifully designed traditional orcish catapults. Who knew those ancient trees would be such good material for our siege machines? Grunt Commander: …you mean we never got the catapults from the orcish high command back at the Encampment? Grunt 45: No, they said they needed all the catapults they could get for a braver, direr battle. Meanwhile, back at the Orcish Encampment, the fierce battle continues… Orcish Warlord: Hic! Man the catapults! Grunt Sentry: FOR THE…? …What was…the name again? Orcish Warlord: Horde? Hic! Grunt Sentry: Hic! Oh yeah. PULL! With that command, the catapults launched their payload…straight into the great hall where brave, elite orcish warriors were prepared to…party…some more. That’s right. The catapults are launching…beer…into the Great Hall…again…for the 3rd day in a row. Advisor: Sir, wasn’t there something we were supposed to do? …I think it had something to do with helping our legion of orcs… Orcish Warlord: Lok’tar have mercy! We’ve no time for that! Hic! We’re out of beer! AGAIN! Quickly! To the local liquor store! Our men must not become sober! We will drink up on the hills! We will throw up in the valleys! We will buy the beer from goblins, humans, and brewmasters! We will get drunk in our Great Hall, no matter how far it may be! We will— Grunt Sentry: Hic! Reinforcements have arrived yet again! With more beer! All grunts: For the Horde! Everyone takes a long, drunken sip…suddenly! Orcish Warlord: Pfff! Oh, how awful! This is nonalcoholic beer! We’re not going to stay drunk by drinking this! KILL THE TRAITOR! YAR! All grunts (except for the poor scout who brought the beer): AHHHHHHH! ATTACK! Grunt Scout: Wait! They didn’t have anymore alcoholic beer left! Ahhhhh! The grunt scout barely escapes the mob, which is quickly becoming sober and more vicious with each passing second. When he gets away, he finds himself in the middle of nowhere…and suddenly a hand pulls him down into a nearby bush! Bandit 4: Shh! Quiet, or he’ll hear you! Grunt Scout: Huh? What? Bandit 4: I’m hiding from a guy who thinks I’m a woman…I’ve been running away from him ever since! Be quiet, or he’ll find us both! Grunt Scout: …oh great…first I’m chased by an angry, drunken mob, now I’m going to be chased by a sexually confused man…what a day. Bandit 5: Where are you…? I just want to be sure…come on, I know you’re really a woman…come on out… Grunt Scout: …ARE you a woman? With that remark, Bandit 4 kicked the grunt out of the bush straight into the demented Bandit 5… Grunt Scout: …crap. Meanwhile, back at the Orcish Legion frontline, the Grunt Commander is still arguing where those catapults could’ve gone. Grunt Commander: That’s a sad excuse! What, they sprouted legs and walked away then?! Grunt 45: Well, how should I know! Maybe they did, that’s the only logical explanation! Grunt Commander: LOGICAL?! THAT’S A LOGICAL EXPLANATION?! Tauren Chieftain: Sorry to interrupt, but he has a point…they could’ve walked away…if the catapults were possessed by demons… All the grunts listening in stand stock still, even their very breaths hold… Grunt Commander: …you didn’t…tell me you didn’t Chieftain! Tauren Chieftain: The Earth Mother shines upon us, young warriors! I stopped those demonic catapults before they caused us any harm! I then preformed the exorcism spell last night, on their burning, demonic wooden frames… Grunt 23: …that was an exorcism spell? …it looked a lot like the Chicken Dance to me… Grunt Commander: So here we are…with no catapults, no siege ammo— Tauren Chieftain: Fear not, I picked up these dirt clods to aid us. They’ll crush the castle! Look! I’ll throw one right now! With my mighty arm, I siege thee! The Chieftain gives a mighty throw and the rock goes soaring, soaring, soaring ever higher! Until… Grunt 20: He threw it two feet…<starts crying> We’re doomed! Grunt Commander: What is it with you and Demons anyway?! Tauren Chieftain: A demon broke my horn once…see? It’s not pointy anymore… Suddenly, a strange, blue man-beast jumps from out of nowhere to meet the Chieftain. Kimahri: Kimahri feels your pain, Chieftain. Mean Ronsos broke Kimahri’s horn. Kimahri sad…now he relegated to watching over annoying summoner…Kimahri go now. Grunt Commander: …well that was completely random… Moogle: You better believe it, kupo! Grunt 56: I’m scared now. Tauren Chieftain: …kupo...? That’s demon talk! Yes, DEMONS! SLAY THE PINK FLUFFY DEMON OF…uh…FLUFFINESS! <Swoosh!> Moogle: No thanks, kupo. And with that the moogle left… Grunt 6: …why me? …there goes my ear… Grunt Commander: ! You’re still alive! How did you ever survive! Grunt 6: …I don’t know...can we stop my internal bleeding though? A healing salve would do the trick… Grunt Commander: Yeah ok, look. Just because you’re alive and all doesn’t mean I start taking orders from you. Now get to the back of the line! Grunt 6: Oh sure…I’ll just limp my way to the back…don’t mind my excessive bleeding either…bastard. Grunt Commander: Now how do we siege that castle without any catapults…? Will the Grunts ever be able to siege the castle? Will the Chieftain ever stop with his obsession about demons? And— Grunt Commander: Hey, shut up, would you! You’re not finishing the Chapter yet! Tauren Chieftain: I have an idea! I know how to siege the castle! See my ancient tauren totem of honor? Grunt 16: You mean the fake one you bought at that gnomish shoppe nearby here? Tauren Chieftain: You all know what it’s shaped like! A SLINGSHOT! I’ll just attach a giant piece of rope to my totem, and you’ll all be able to hurtle off toward the castle personally! Grunt Commander: Are you insane? Tauren Chieftain: I think so, yes. Is this a trick question? Grunt 56: I can’t take it anymore! Fine! I’ll launch myself! It’s better then standing here listening to that old cow! FOR THE…yeah, whatever, like they actually care about me. My dental plan is horrible. With confidence brimming in his soul, the brave grunt steps on the Chieftain’s back…CRACK! … Tauren Chieftain: THAT didn’t sound too healthy for me…oof. …and prepares to launch himself at the human castle, which is situated on a cliff. Tauren Chieftain: PULL! <Woosh!> Grunt 56: Hmm, this isn’t so bad, at least I’ll die quickly and painlessly. Just then, the grunt lands on a flagpole…ouch, even I felt that. Then he slowly slides down, toward more flagpoles, until he slides on his face all the way to the bottom…where a pack of curious peasants await. Grunt 56: …now I know how Grunt 6 felt like…well, at least I’m alive. Peasant 1: I found a witch! Let’s burn him! Peasant 2: It doesn’t look like a witch to me…more like an orc. Peasant 3: Oh, and the correct term for a male witch is “warlock.” The peasants stop to think deeply on what to do…the concentration is amazing! Peasant 1: Let’s burn him anyway All peasants: Yaaay! Tauren Chieftain: Hmm, I better adjust my aim…ok, who’s next? All grunts: Uh….ahem. Tauren Chieftain: Oh, I see. ALL of you want to go. Ok, I’ll start with you. PULL! And so, a cycle of grunt throwing siege begins. The grunts fly in all directions, laying siege to the castle. And at the top most tower… Paladin: …well…this is odd. Footmen: …this is something you don’t see a lot. Just then… <Whistling noise, growing louder…> FOR THE HORDE!!!! SPLAT! Paladin: Whew, he barely missed us! Quick close the windows! Footmen: We don’t have shutters…the windows will remain completely open… Paladin: Damn, first they take away my mace, then they repo my horse and helmet…now they take away the shutters…lousy budget cutbacks… Footmen: Is that barbeque I smell? Meanwhile, the peasants set fire to a “witch”. Grunt 56: Well, this sucks. Sniff, hmm, I don’t smell so bad… Will the Orcish Horde succeed in laying siege to the castle?! Will the Orcish Encampment ever stop partying and finally help the Legion?! Chapter 6, the FINAL chapter coming soon! INFORMATION: Moogles,and Kimahri are all Final Fantasy characters. I hope you Final Fantasy fans enjoyed that little guest appearance, as for people who didn’t get what a moogle was, it’s not big deal. ;) Uh, oh! Chapter 6 and that’s it! WRONG! I’ll start a new series…starring a death knight and a dreadlord… ^_^. See you next time, and thanks for reading! Final ParodyCraft 6! The Final Word story by Koss_Knights updated 2003-10-07 If you want to publish something funny here, mail it to MacMark. The siege began in the wee hours of the morning, and it rages on into the afternoon. The Barrens become a giant microwave, the sands rise up, and swirl, like some great spirit…and still the brave Chieftain with his loyal troops siege the Human Castle. Will the humans be able to survive? Tauren Chieftain: PULL! <whoosh> Grunt Commander: Chieftain, stop this madness! Our legion is steadily decreasing, and we’re barely making a dent on the walls! Tauren Chieftain: Are you sure? …That last grunt looked like he made a considerable dent with his skull. Meanwhile, at the topmost tower in the human castle, the paladin and his trusty footmen aide looks on as the orcs continue flying in all directions. Paladin: So…should we mobilize our two legions of knights? Footmen: I don’t know…this is kind of fun to watch. Oh! Hahaha! Look at that one! He was jabbed onto a pointy cliff and he’s trying to get off! Aw, look at him wiggle his little feet in despair! Paladin: …Ok, I’m going to move a little more to the left…away from you… Window washer: Oh, hello! I didn’t see you there! Paladin: …what the hell? What are you doing up here? Window washer: I’m washing the windows. Paladin: But we don’t have any windows! Window washer: Yeah…I figured that was going to be a problem. Footmen: You mean to tell me I was paying you to wash non-existent windows?! When I could’ve spent the cash on booze and loose women! Uh! …I mean armor and swords! Eheh… Paladin: …I’m going to temporarily forget my Paladin’s oath and hurt you… Footmen: Oh, look, two peasants carrying a wounded man toward us. What is your business lazy mongrels?! Peasant 5: Oh, I suppose being subdued to back breaking manual labor all day makes us lazy? Yeah, and you’re such a brave warrior, risking your life at the local strip club all day. Paladin: Local strip club?! That’s where you go when I ask you to buy potions and scrolls?! Footmen: Oop…psst, shut up about that. Peasant 5: Right, whatever. Anyway, here’s your informant. We found him in a comatose state. I suppose you’ll want to heal him and then get the information he has about the orcish positions. Paladin: I had an informant? Peasant 6: …we’d best be on our way. The Paladin looks at the pitiful state that the informant is in and looks at his grave injuries. He looks genuinely disturbed at the horrors that war has caused this young man to suffer. He gets ready, raises his hammer, opens his book and… Paladin: <SLAM! > Get up, you lazy bastard! <SLAM! > Up, I say! Footmen: ?! Paladin, you’re hitting him?! He’s comatose stop it! Paladin: …oh. …. …. …. <SLAM! > Up, you lazy, good for nothing… Footmen: Paladin, can’t you just use your Holy Light spell to cure him? Paladin: …I’m trying to wake him up! <SLAM! > Look at him! He even bleeds with laziness! He sickens me. Footmen: Your hammer is the cause of that blood…look; can’t you just cast holy light and heal him? It’ll be a more effective way of waking him up… Paladin: …I don’t know that spell… Footmen: …that book chained to your hip…its not a spell book is it? Paladin: …No. It’s the Adventures of Huckleberry Fin , by Mark Twain. Footmen: … Paladin: What! It’s a good book! …I like to read…books. Footmen: You’re not even a certified paladin, are you? Paladin: Sob! No! I was kicked out of the Silver Hand Paladin Academy for killing a small child! Footmen: …How did that happen? Paladin: I was to perform a Holy Light on poor, cancerous Jimmy…I got ready to cast it and did…but I used the hammer instead of the book! Thus, killing him…with a splash of colorful light… Footmen: Well, hey! It’s all right! I’m not a footman myself! I’m just a local drunk coming home from a Halloween party. I saw you walking and decided to join in. Like my costume? Pretty convincing, isn’t it? Just then, they hear the whistling of another orcish warrior flying towards them! Paladin: He’s heading straight for me! I guess it’s time for me to activate my Divine Shield! Footmen: But…you said you’re not a certified Paladin…how can you possibly cast that spell? Paladin: DIVINE SHIELD! With that yell, the Paladin picks up the footmen and thrusts him in front of his face, so the footmen can absorb the damage. Footmen: This isn’t what I had in mind! Put me down! Meanwhile, at the base of the Castle, the Chieftain continues launching his men while the Grunt Commander looks onward. Grunt Commanders Journal Entry 35 “We have started the siege of the Human Castle, but we are steadily losing our men. I suspect the Chieftain has grown mad, and that he will kill us all. I am currently overlooking the castle, where many of our men’s bodies have been needlessly splattered and broken, in a fruitless siege. I don’t think we will ever destroy the humans if the Orcish Encampment does not help. If we do not--- “ Tauren Chieftain: PULL! <whoosh!> Grunt Commander: Hey! I was writing in that! Why the hell did you launch my book at the castle! Tauren Chieftain: We need all the siege material we can get! PULL! And in the castle courtyard, the peasants look glum…they’ve finished burning the orc they found and have nothing else left to do. Peasant 1: There’s nothing left to burn… Just then, a book hits Peasant 2 on the head. Peasant 2: Ouch! Hey look! It’s a journal! Peasant 3: I have an idea! Let’s read it! Peasant 4: What? What the hell do you think this is, the Reading Rainbow? Peasant 5: I found a hooked on phonics tape once. Know what I did with it? Peasant 3: What? Peasant 5: Burned it. Peasant 1: I got a better idea! Forget reading it; let’s burn the book! Peasant 3: No! Let’s burn ALL the books we can find! All peasants: Yaaay! And so, the peasants start their little burning spree. Minutes later, the King enters his private library… King: …Where did all my priceless, one of a kind books go? It’s my wife again, isn’t it? Well, off with her head. I’ll make her into a welcome mat…or something like that. Meanwhile, in the topmost tower… Footmen (bloodied and gravely injured): I don’t think…I can take another…orc…please, deactivate your “divine shield”. Paladin: Never! The orcs will never defeat me! You may be a crumpled mass of flesh, they may break every bone in your body, and they may very well slowly, painfully rip and tear you to pieces, but I will never surrender! Footmen: Well, that cheered me right up… And back at the Orcish Encampment… Orcish Warlord: Hic! Ah, yes. We’ve had a fierce battle. But the beer kegs stood no chance facing the mighty belly of the horde’s warriors. Advisor: Sir, shouldn’t we move our warriors to the Human Castle now? Our diversionary legion won’t last long…and plus that Grunt Commander still owes me 5 bucks. Orcish Warlord: To the Orcmobile! Hic! Advisor: …what? The orcish warlord suddenly gets up. His face strains greatly, as his drunken body tries to keep its balance. Orcish Warlord: I said! To the Orcmobile! Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, Orc man! Orc man! Advisor: …what I’m wondering is how they managed to stay drunk even though the last day all they drank was nonalcoholic beer… Orcish Warlord: Hic! Quickly, down the pole to the orc cave! The Orcish Warlord slides down the pole… Advisor: I hope he realizes that pole led to the torture pit…he’s going to land in a bed of spikes…well, time to rally the drunken horde. And so, with the “promise” that the human castle would have “beer”, the Horde gladly follows the young, upstart advisor. And back at the base of the cliff, the Chieftain is running out of siege ammo. Tauren Chieftain: PULL! Grunt Commander: Chieftain! Stop this insanity! Our legion is being rapidly depleted! Chieftain, what would your wife say? Tauren Chieftain: I wouldn’t know…I accidentally catapulted her into the castle walls… Grunt Commander:[b/] Her lawyer won’t like this… Tauren Chieftain: Yeah, I guess. Think he’ll be suing me anytime soon? His top half is by a flagpole 500 feet up, and his bottom half is by a nearby tree. And at the topmost tower, the Paladin continues activating his divine shield. Just then, a Knight steps into the tower, to report to the paladin. Knight: Sire, your…uh…what’s going on here? Paladin: I have my divine shield activated. Knight: …I never knew it worked that way. Regardless, here’s my report. 1. The Peasants have gone on a mass burning. They’ve burned everything from orcs, to books, to the stables. 2. The King has beheaded his wife, but when he jumped up in joy at the sight of her dead, he tripped over his throne and fell out of the open window. He’s a pancake now. 3. Our scouts have reported that a drunken horde of orcs is making their way towards the castle, via goblin zeppelins. Knight: Any questions? Paladin: Yeah, are there any Smentos left? I think it might give my divine shield a boost. Knight: Yes…I think I’ll ignore that request, sire. Good day. “Do, doo, do, doo, do, do waa, do, do, do. It doesn’t matter what time The freshness always stays on With Smentos full of mint and life No orcs get to you, minty freshness is cool The orcish horde won’t get to you! Smentos freshness, orcs don’t have it Smentos better, with Smentos freshness, The orcs will never stand a chance! Smentos, the orc killer.” And thus, the Paladin gives his footmen aide a Smentos. Just then, an orc flies out of nowhere! Footmen: Oof! The Smentos! They do nothing! Paladin: It was worth a shot. The theme song was pretty catchy though… Footmen: I can’t take it anymore! I’ll free myself! Yah! The footmen cuts the rope that the Paladin banded the footmen with…and falls through the window. Paladin: …I hope he realizes that’s a 50-story fall. Ooo, he’s going to need more then a Holy Light to get up after that one. Just then, dozens of goblin zeppelins appear in the sky, weaving drunkenly. They land and out comes the brave orcish reinforcements, straight into the castle courtyard. Paladin Retch! Oh, that was a bumpy ride! Spew! Drunk Grunt 2: Attack! For the—oof! Hold on! Retch! Oh, I feel so sick! The knights prepare to mobilize…but wait? Where are the horses? Knight Commander: Quick! Mount your warhorses, before the orcs…attack… Lo and behold, the knights see that all the stables are being burned…meanwhile, the peasants are dancing around the fiery wreckage singing “London Bridge is Falling Down.” Knight Commander: Forget your steeds, defensive positions! Get ready to counter the orcish attack! Drunk Grunt 5: Spew! Ugh, we shouldn’t have partied that long… And so, the brave, brutish orc warriors charge to meet the knights in battle! …Or at least try… Drunk Grunt 3: Charge! All grunts: Yaaaaaaahh! Attack—oh. Retch! Drunk Grunt 3: Not so fast, lets keep the charge at a minimal speed. Advisor: I just realized something…they’re not carrying their battle axes…they’re carrying empty beer bottles… And so the knights wait in horror as the orcish warriors rush at them, screaming their battlecry! Knight 3: …you know, for a charge its pretty slow. It’s more like they’re stumbling toward us. Knight Commander: Yawn! Has the battle started yet? Drunk Grunt 1: Yell out your war cry! All grunts: Retch! Oh….spew! Advisor: …Right, I’ll just hop into a zeppelin and watch…WAY over there. Meanwhile, at the topmost tower… Knight: Sire, I have most dire news. 1. The orcish horde has arrived with reinforcements and they’re vomiting all over the courtyard. Our knights can stop them, but they cannot mount their warhorses, and that’s because… 2. …The peasants have started a revolt. We don’t know how it started, but they’re burning everything in their path, including the stables, royal library, the latrine, and they even burned down the window washer. 3. Since the stables are gone, the horses have begun to run amuck, trampling everything in their way, attempting to leave the castle grounds. Unfortunately, this castle is on top of a cliff…so most horses jumped…500 feet below… 4. Also, HELP! PALADIN, THE PEASANTS ARE TAKING ME AWAY! AHHHH! Knight: Get back, back I say! I don’t wish to be burned! Ahhhh! All peasants: Yaaay! More witches to burn! Peasant 3: Don’t you mean warlocks? All peasants stop and stare at peasant 3. Peasant 1: Let’s burn him too. All peasants (including peasant 3): Yaaaay! And so, total chaos began to ensue. The drunken remnants of the orcish horde continued to slowly charge the knights position. When they finally came face to face, they became locked in mortal combat. The battlefield began to come alive as the courtyard echoed with the clashes of swords and beer bottles. Vomit and blood splashed the courtyard. The Knights were clearly winning the battle, but the castle was not safe, for the peasants were still burning everything and everyone they could get their hands on. With this fanatic burning, the castles fate was sealed. The only survivor of the infamous siege was the Tauren Chieftain. Driven mad (well, madder anyway) by the demons that continued to haunt him— Tauren Chieftain: Back, you demon moogles, back! —The Chieftain ventured further into the barrens, alone…. never to be heard from again. Oh wait, never mind. He rented a boat and sailed to Kalimdor, where he met a few of his relatives. He also stopped by the world tree to get his picture taken and he entered a bull-fighting contest. He also made a snowman at the banks of the Frozen Citadel, and got chased away by an angry Lich. He then met a deeply troubled paladin named Arthas. Arthas said he was traveling back to Lordereon, where he was to be honored for upholding the paladins’ oath, and slaying an evil vampire. The Chieftain was so annoying, however, that he drove Arthas insane, and caused him to become a death knight. He figured if the Chieftain was one of the good guys, there was no hope for mankind anyway. Well, we all know how the story with him goes on… Undead Follies, Chapter One, sneak preview… Dreadlord: The time has come! Soon…it shall begin! Mwahahahahaha—cough, hack, cough, hahahahahahhaaha! Death Knight: Want a cough drop? Watch out! Undead Follies, chapter one, coming at you soon!     ÐÏࡱá   Human Mischief Series Start, Chapter One By Magical_Cow[GK] AKA Koss_Knights The Scourge has grown large these past few days, and yet the townsfolk of Lordearon don’t know of the oblivion that awaits them. The new monarchy in the central provinces of this great kingdom denies rumors of a plague of undeath raging across the continent. The fools who call themselves leaders know that there is indeed such a plague ravaging crops, livestock, and the future children of many families and generations. Nay, all they care for is money; as long as the townsfolk pay their taxes and continue to lift the weight of the feudal system that hath been unjustly set for them…all thanks to their higher classmen. Not only that, but the very religion the people of this countryside follow has been silenced by the arrogant lords and monarchs. They have disbanded many paladins and priests from the order, for they delivered rather “unpleasant” news to other townsfolk creating “unnecessary” havoc on their minds. Yes, continue living the lie, for it will end soon. In a green, lush clearing a human castle stands. This militarized haven for townspeople and soldiers alike has been guarded for years by a grand archmage. Now, as he overlooks the town and provinces the encampment protects, he spies a peculiar owl. While his body may have aged, his eyes and mind are as keen as ever. He immediately realizes the owl is magical. The owl continues flying toward the grand wielder of spells, and plops onto his shoulder. Archmage: Hmm, strange…I’ve never seen such an owl before. A note attached to its leg? Hmm. This is interesting. Well, away with you, you’ve outlived your usefulness. The scout owl, it’s summoning time not yet over, decides to fly into the provinces of the city. In the meantime, the Archmage mass teleports into his library, where two apprentice wizards take his unicorn steed into a nearby enchanted stable. He plops down wearily on his throne-like seat and opens the letter. New AOL version 10.0! Azeroth Online has never been easier with this newest version! Includes everything that the other versions had, but now has a darker font! Everyone loves it, so give it a try! 1000 hours free. (But you have to pay for registration and hidden costs.) Archmage: Damn, these things are everywhere. The Archmage throws the free disk haphazardly behind him, accidentally hitting a nearby wizard who shakes an angry fist at him. Wizard: Watch it you old coot! Archmage: Shut up, you’re 10 years older than me. Wizard: But I’m young at heart…greasy bastard. Ironic the wizard speaks these words, for he suffers a heart attack and a mild stroke at the same time. The nearby priests quickly react by conjuring up a stretcher and taking him out of the room. Priest: By all that’s holy, how’d that happen? Archmage, thinking: Heheheheh, good thing I learned cripple. Pha, and the other mages say the dark arts are useless. The Archmage, now uninterrupted, reads the letter: I fear we have failed. The Undead Scourge has most likely overrun our secret encampment even as I write this. My allies are badly wounded, as am I, and I doubt we’ll make it out alive. I am sending this out to anyone out there who can possibly help the better cause. The Undead plague must be stopped! If you, brave warrior, are reading this, please do something about it, before time runs out! The Scourge is steadily harvesting the life out of these lands and will soon be in prime position to take over the continent. Quickly, make haste, for they are preparing a mass invasion as we speak! Elune has turned her shine away from me, but perhaps she will look kindly to you? –Shandari Pridemoon. Yes, the Undead are preparing an invasion, let’s see how its faring… Necromancer: Who ordered the pastrami! Death Knight: Yo. In the meantime, in the Emerald Dream, the Altar Association is hard at work organizing hero employment and revival. Here, we see two familiar Night Elf heroes, sitting in a waiting room… Demon Hunter: What do you suppose ever happened to the Keeper? We’ve been looking everywhere for him, yet it appears he disappeared without a trace… Priestess of the Moon: He’s the moron who got us killed in the first place. Thank Elune that we haven’t met him here. Perhaps he’s moved on to a better place? In the meantime, deep in the blighted forests of Azeroth, stuck in a tree… Keeper of the Grove: Hello…? My spirit is…sort of stuck. He-He-Hello? It’s getting dark and scary…sigh. Oh, an acorn! And back at the altar, a quarrel has begun between one of the heroes and an altar association representative. Representative: I’m sorry sir, but you cannot be revived at the requested location. Pit Lord: Why the hell not? Damn it, I’ve got renegade demons to fight! If I’m not back there, all hope will be lost for the few bloodlusted orcs in Kalimdor! Representative: I’m sorry sir, but you can’t enter the portal because you’ve broke through the weight limit. I’m afraid if you go in, you will get stuck inside. And we do not want to have another traffic jam…it’s very hard to clean up. We recommend you lose approximately 500 pounds of weight. Pit Lord: I’m a Pit Lord damn it! I need to be large, so that I may strike fear into the hearts of my enemies! Representative: With all due respect sir, that beer belly will not strike fear into anyone. We’re sorry, but you have to go back into the waiting room again. Pit Lord: When Mannoroth hears about this, he’ll have your head! He’ll make sure to free me! He’ll— Mannoroth: Hey Fruitillis. How’s it going? Pit Lord: Mannoroth?! How, how, did…did…huh?! Mannoroth: Yeah, funny thing really. I incidentally tripped over my left hoof and fell on my own lance. When I was reincarnated, I got disoriented and then…tripped over again. Let that be a lesson to you. Never drink a lot of blood before a major battle. Pit Lord: When Archimonde hears about this he’s going to crap a brick. And in Archimondes citadel… YEEEOOOWWW! Doom Guard: Didn’t that come from the direction of Archimondes private bathroom? Doom Guard 2: That didn’t sound too pleasant. Yech. Meanwhile,the Archmage begins to put the letter pack in its greenish envelope which has been stained with purple blood and mud. Before he can put it away, a curious paladin comes over and snatches the letter away… Paladin: A letter, eh? Yeah, I got one too. Want to see it? I’ve yet to read it. It came from Heatwave Entertainment. The fine folks who made HumanCraft: The Reign of Programmers. Here, read it out loud. The archmage takes the parchment and begins to read: Adamass Dimlight, The folks here at Heatwave Entertainment thank you for your glowing comments on our fine game. We pride ourselves in knowing we have satisfied yet another person. However, your online account has recently came to our attention, and we couldn’t help noticing how unbelievably horrible and pathetic it was. I showed your online statistics on a graph at a recent board meeting, and the whole staff and I couldn’t help but laugh. While it’s nice you are actively playing on our free online service, War.net, we kindly ask you to never play again. For someone who has a record of 5 wins and 1,500,000 losses is a bit too, shall we say “special” to play our game? You have attained so many losses, you temporarily overloaded our international severs, and forced us to make the maximum loss number in our automatic calculation data to move up into the 6th digit. We also had to take great pains into making a negative level for you, since you confused our system resources with a negative experience score of –233,567…on average…in one game. However, that’s not necessarily bad, seeing as you’re ranked number one on all the new ladders we had to make up because of you. (Ranked 2nd is Billy, an avid HumanCraft player who suffers from frequent narcolepsy.) In conclusion, please never log on your account, Holy_Flyboy, ever again. In case you ever do, we’ve taken the liberty of purchasing a .357 magnum to kill yourself with. I’m sure the other players on War.Net appreciate this kind gesture. As a token of our appreciation we’ve autographed the revolver. Never play our game online again, The folks at Heatwave Entertainment Enclosure Paladin: …That was a bit harsh don’t you think? Archmage: Oh, look. They really did send you a revolver. Hmm, it has been signed as well. “With best wishes on your eventual demise—“ Paladin: Ok, enough of that. So, what’d your letter have in it? Archmage: I’ll tell you later. I must tend to my unicorn steed. Pardon me. Paladin: Very well. Shall we meet here in an hour then? Archmage: Yes, that would be fine. Oh, and Adamass! Don’t help the peasants with the building anymore. Last time you said one last smack should do it, and you destroyed the barracks they were so diligently working on. Paladin, grumbling: Very well. And it’s Adamas! No extra ‘s’ damn it! With the undead forces steadily approaching, time is running short for our new heroes. For now, they enjoy the good, peaceful life. Strolling past the countryside, quelling minor orc and ogre rebellions. All is well in the land they reside in…for now. But will they be able to prepare themselves for the conflicts ahead? Only the Archmage, who is deeply pondering the possibilities, knows… Archmage: Hmm, maybe she’ll find me more attractive if I magically lengthen it a couple of inches…? Nah, she’d probably notice. Sigh… Part One of Two Human Mischief Chapter Two Mega Paladin! By Koss_Knights The Alliance has begun to crumble. Many human factions, hearing word of the great king Terenas’s death have pulled stake. Even the high elves who regularly become integrated into the Human Alliances armies will not be enough to stop the tide of death that will sweep through the land. The Undead armies have grown vastly superior, and all the faltering alliance can do is bide their time until the Grim Reaper comes and takes them away. The few brave warriors who are not blinded by the new governments propaganda are strategizing their moves, for when the time comes they will need to use all their finesse in combat, as well as their tactical prowess, else the countless days planning for the battles yet to come will be for naught. In the holy sanctum, Uther’s second in command and his remaining paladin order discuss the ways the scourge can be stopped, whilst in Dalaran former paladins and archmages band together and experiment with spells and enchantments that can shield their mighty society from the cold grip of demise. In the ancient kingdom of Khaz Modan mighty dwarves are…getting as drunk as possible from the local alcohol. They also quell a few gnoll rebellions here and there, and hold chugging contests. Hell, they wouldn’t know the scourge was here even if a legion of crypt fiends came up to their front doorstep and started break-dancing. (While the Liches rave.) Also busy at work are the two heroes whom have been keeping a watchful eye over Lightmoor Peak. The Archmage, Infintous Mana, and the Paladin Adamas Dimlight now sit in the archmages vacant inner sanctum, discussing the coming threat to the alliance. Paladin: So, is this a serious threat to us? Archmage: No, not only us, but also all of mankind. Paladin: Then I must reveal my secret weapon… Archmage: You have a secret weapon? Show me. Paladin: It will take several months to get there. It lies within the sacred tomb of the Great Lothar. We better prepare ourselves for the rough journey…~~* Before the Paladin can finish his sentence, the Archmage casts mass teleport, since he knows the location Adamas just spoke of. Archmage: Yeah, rough journey, got it. Next? Paladin: Show-off. The two heroes become consciously aware that they are not alone in the well-lit room. Upon further inspection, they realize they have teleported into an operating room. A surgeon and his staff of nurses stare at the two open mouthed, in shock. Surgeon: You! You used me to cast your mass teleport? Archmage: Yes. Surgeon: I was about to install a pacemaker in poor cancerous Jimmy here when I froze all of a sudden! Not only that your little magic trick fragged the pacemaker, while it was being hooked up to his heart! You idiot, you just killed this little boy! Archmage: While I grieve the loss of this little boy (cough, he probably deserved it, cough.) Ahem. His sacrifice shan’t be in vain! We used you to teleport to the Great tomb of Sir Lothar. …Wait, since when was there an operating room in the tomb? Surgeon: This is a hospital! The tomb you’re looking for is to the north of here! Paladin, thinking: Great, a navigationally challenged archmage… Archmage: Well, we really must be off; we’ve a world to save. I hope little Timmy here survives. And with that, the archmage mass teleports to a different locale and disappears without a trace. Surgeon: It’s Jimmy damn it! And he’s dead all thanks to you! Damn it! Jimmy: I’m…still…alive. Surgeon: Cut his life support, it’s over. Jimmy: Where’s mommy and—aucc$%$k~~* Surgeon: How will I live knowing I lost a patient? This was my first loss… Nurse: Ahem, 17th. Surgeon: Well, I’m going golfing. Nurse: Sir, your 5 o clock is a scheduled kidney transplant. Surgeon: He can wait a little while longer. Well, I’m off for the day. Nurse: He’s been waiting for a year…his kidney is useless at this stage. If you don’t help this poor boy he’ll— Surgeon: Bah, get Dr. Kevorkian to do it. A little while later… Billy: Am I going to be ok mommy? Mom: Sure Billy, a talented surgeon, who cares about you very, very much will be here soon to make your misery go away. Dr. Kevorkian: Ok, where is the little crack-head? Let’s make this quick, I’ve got a 3 o clock euthanasia and a meatball sandwich to attend to. Oh, hell I’ll just eat while I operate on your son here. Daddy: Oh, crap. Great idea honey, ”let’s get the discount life insurance!” And in the meantime… Archmage: Is this the tomb? Looks like it. Woman: Eeek! Get away you perverts! Ahhh! All other women: Eeek! Get them out of here, get them out of here! Paladin: You teleported us to a women’s bathroom? Great Scott man, get us out of here! Archmage: …I’m out of mana. The hysterical women incircle the flabbergasted and embrassed heroes, and start puncing, slapping, kicking, and clawing at the two while screaming: “Get out, get out! Stop picking on defenseless women!” Paladin: Oh dear god, hurry up man! One of them is packing a mace! While the two alliance heroes are bravely going into places no man has ever gone before, let’s see what the order of business is at the undead citadel, Agony. Death Knight: So, what are your abilities, death cow? Death Cow: Oh, I remember this! Someone interviewed me a long time ago as well…except they didn’t do it in a graveyard…with horde of hungry undead looking at me. GET AWAY FROM ME I’M NOT GRADE-A MEAT! Death Knight: There’s nobody here except us three… Dreadlord: Yes….mwahahaha…indeed… Death Knight: I hope that you don’t plan on eating the cow. He’s evil now. Ner’Zhul have mercy if you anger him. BREEP! BREEP! Death Knight: That must be my cell. Hold on. Yeah, hello? Lich King: Did someone mention me? It gets lonely in the Frozen Throne…so, anything interesting you want to talk about? Death Knight: How the hell did you get this number?! And where the hell is that steed you promised me? Lich King: Don’t talk to me in that tone for my powers is god-like puny mortal! I can easily kill you with but a single look of my evil eye! Death Knight: Oh, really? Come here then. Let’s go, I’m not afraid of a cripple in an immobile wheelchair! Lich King: Wheelchair? I’ll show you! Audible scraping sounds can be heard from the Lich Kings end. Lich King: Ha, just wait ‘till I equip it with wheels! This Lich is going mobile! ~click.~ Death Knight:[b] I bet no one gets bothered more than me. I’m stuck with the Lich King calling me now, in addition to being stuck with a moron—oh, I’m sorry. They call you folks Dreadlords. For your dreadful stupidity, yes? [b]Au contraire Death Knight, for there is one other who is plagued even more than you… Frostmourne: I don’t like how you take advantage of me. Why do we have to kill everything in our path? You know I don’t like to get bloody! Lich King, using telepathy: Stacie’s mom has got it going on... Catchy song, huh? Arthas: I’m afraid it has lost some of it’s luster when you’ve already sang it 300 TIMES! Lich King: So, are you going to that rendezvous point? Tichondrius is waiting to give you your new assignment. Arthas: Pardon me, but I’m being hunted by a legion of royal guards at the moment. Lich King: Didn’t I give you two experienced necromancers at your disposal? Arthas: Oh yes, they’ve been an invaluable asset in my quest… Necromancer: Go Arthas go! You can do it, come on! Necromancer 2: Yay, Arthas! You can take on all those knights by yourself! Arthas, muffled: Kill me. Just end it now. Knight: Keep stomping on his back men! Put some muscle into it! Lich King: I’ll send help soon! But first, another part of my grand plan must be carried out… Arthas, still being stomped on by a gang of knights: And that is…? Lich King: I’m going to download the newest patch for HumanCraft first! Sorry, it’ll take some time…my cable has frostbite. I’ll be done in about an hour. I’m sure you can hold off till then. And outside the women’s bathroom… Women: AND STAY OUT, YOU PEEPING TOMS! Paladin: I’m not Tom, damn it! It’s Adamas! Archamge: Thanks for helping me. Using your divine shield and huddling in a corner really assisted my frail, old body. Oh, and my skull facture is nothing, really. Paladin: Want a band-aid? Archmage: Why don’t you heal me instead! Paladin: I spent all my mana on divine shield. Archmage: It only costs 25 mana… Paladin: Well, I used the really special one. I kind of hoped it might impress the ladies. So…I used the one that drains all my mana. Sorry. Archmage: Yes, I’m sure the one who swung a battle-axe at you really thought you were cute. Sigh; let’s try this again. And so, once again, the grand weaver of spells casts mass teleport, and this time his basic knowledge of math and geography paid off. Paladin: Ah, finally. The Tomb of Sir Lothar. Let us make haste, into the inner sanctum of this sacred place. Oh, and I brought some eggs and toilet paper with me. Archmage: … Isn’t this place holy to all paladins of the order? Why would you desecrate it? Paladin: After that teleporting fiasco, I need to vent all my pent up rage and frustration. The Paladin chucks an egg, but it doesn’t hit the stonewall of the tomb, rather a very imposing guard. Holy Crusader: An egg! Thrown at me? [/b]The Crusader looks around and spots the Paladin, who upon realizing he was caught begins to shake, for he has heard that great warriors guard sacred places such as these. The Crusader takes a small step forward and glowers angrily at the paladin….and then…[/b] Holy Crusader: Sniff! Sniff! Sob! You threw an egg on me! I’m lactose intolerant you inconsiderate jerk! The Crusader begins to bawl like a little baby, running like a little girl scout in the other direction. Paladin: Odd, I always thought the holy crusaders would be more…dangerous? And since when were eggs dairy products…? Archmage: Never mind, lead the way. Let’s look for your secret weapon. And in the deepest part of the dungeon-like tomb… Paladin: Here, in this magic vault! Archmage: Seeing as you’re a holy paladin, I’m sure this weapon will help us greatly on our quest against the undead. The Paladin opens the magic vault, and pulls out a mystical, magical, masterfully designed… Paladin: A double-edged maul! Archmage: You mean to tell me we killed a small child, risked our lives at a women’s bathroom and faced other unspeakable terrors for a paladins hammer?! Paladin: This one is special though. It has two sledges on it, so I can kill twice the undead! I can also spin it around and dish out a fury of death in the name of the light! Archmage: You realize if you spin that hammer the wrong way, the other end will either hit you where it counts, or smash into your face. Paladin: A good point. …Eh, good enough. Better than my older maul anyway. Archmage: Yes, an extra sledge on the bottom really makes a divine difference. Paladin: It doesn’t end here! Wait ‘till you see what I equipped our men with! Archmage: God have mercy on us all… Part Two of Two And in Death Rave graveyard… Death Knight: So, what are your skills? Death Cow: I can do this! And with that, the death cow twirls around on one hoof while touching his nose and patting his belly. Death Knight: …No, I meant your spells, your auras…those types of skills. Death Cow: Ah. I see. Well, now that I’m a Death Cow (barely audible) I better make some up. Dreadlord: What was that last part? I didn’t catch that. Death Cow: I can…summon…DEMONS! WOOSH! And so, the death cow adopts a tense stance, with his mighty halberd at a 90 degree angle parallel to the ground. They all sense his power growing… Death Cow: Yes! The power! The power! I can do it! I can— PPPPBBBBTTT! The Dreadlord and Death Knight stand stock still, in silence. Death Cow: …I centered my energy through the wrong opening…er… Dreadlord: He…he…he just took a…dump on the ground…. Death Cow: I can….CATAPULT UNDEAD INTO GLORY! Banshee: Perhaps it was meant to be? I think I can finally accept my undeath as it is. No more being depressed! It’s time to turn a new eye to the world! I finally feel happy, for the first time in my—hey, let go of me! Death Cow: FOR THE GLORY OF THE SCOURGE! WOOSH! And the banshee goes up, up, and away… Death Knight: …He just catapulted one of our banshees into the forest… And at Agony Citadel… Acolyte: I’m telling you, we take care of our spell casters! We especially don’t abuse you poor, tortured souls! You’re all a valuable asset to our armies! Banshee 2: He’s right…let’s just drop the whole thing. We’re sorry for interrupting you. Just then, the catapulted banshee crashes through the window and lands in the center of the conference table. Banshee 2: So you don’t abuse the casters, huh? We take care of our tortured souls, right?! Kill them all! Acolyte: I hate my job. And back at the graveyard… Death Knight: You’ve yet to show us your 3rd skill and ultimate. Dreadlord: Be afraid, be very afraid… Death Cow: My 3rd skill is none other than my…DANCE OF DOOM! It’s so powerful, when I cast this spell, I can strike terror into the hearts of anyone and anything! Necromancer: I just can’t do it…I have a skeleton phobia…I can’t possibly summon them. I’m such a loser… Death Cow: You there! Fear my power! Necromancer: Huh? The Necromancer turns around to see the Death Cow doing the chicken dance in front of him. He then finishes it off with a quick break-dance. Death Knight: Where’s that music coming from? Necromancer: Now I’ve seen it all… Death Cow: Apparently, he’s become insane. The Necromancer is no longer coherent. My dance did that to him. Necromancer: But I’m just fine, I— Death Cow: You lie! I must exorcise the goodness from your soul! Yar! And so, the Death Cow charges head on at the frail necromancer, tackles him, and then picks him up, whereupon he smashes him to the ground and repeatedly stomps on his already broken body. Dreadlord: Well…that’s one way of doing it… Death Knight: That poor necromancer. I’ll never forget old…what was his name again? Death Cow: And now it’s time for my ultimate! SUMMON DEMON! Death Knight: Wait, isn’t that your first skill? Death Cow: Oh, right…ahem. SUMMON A DIFFERENT DEMON! And so, the Death Cow concentrates all his might, and his powerful reserve of 5 mana into one explosive spell! Moogle: Kupo! Who summoned me? Death Cow: No! No! NOOOOOO! Not that one! Anything but that one! I’ve unleashed hell on earth! Run away, before it sucks your liver from your mouth with a fork! Dreadlord: It’s doing a little dance…getting…sleepy… Death Knight: …fork? And in Azeroth General Hospital… Nurse: Uther? You’re fully healed. You’re ready to go back and defend humanity. Your injuries were pretty extensive. What happened? Uther: I tried to jump a fence and…the fence met my holy jewels. Well, off I go. 1 hour later… Uther: Hard to believe that the scourge threatens this wonderful land. Baseball player: Hey mister! Watch out! Uther looks around in time to see a baseball streaking right toward him, and before he can do anything, the ball connects…with his holy jewels… Uther, in pain: Screw it, these people deserve to be consumed by the undead…I’m going back to the hospital. Ouch… Baseball player: You ok mister? Uther: I’ll make sure you’re the first one to die when the undead rage across these lands…you little bastard. Baseball player: You’re not very nice for a supreme paladin mister. Baseball player 2: That’s because he’s an old fart now. And so, the plans have been set in motion. The resume for the Death Cow has been filled out, and he will soon be registered as an official hero. The Undead are massing for their crippling assault, while Arthas is on a quest to seek a reclusive dreadlord. Meanwhile, the Lich King is carrying out his grand plan (he’s 30% done with the downloading) and the saviors of humanity are on guard. Will the brave heroes and warriors of Azeroth be able to stem the tide of doom that is coming to slay them all? And what of Adamas and Infintous? What are they doing to help the ailing alliance? Unless they can pull off a miracle, things look very dark for them indeed… Paladin: Who turned off the lights? The Archmage flicks on a light. Archmage: So now what? Paladin: Well, I was hoping you could teach me how to mass teleport… Archmage: What?! And nearby an orphanage… Barret: We gotta do this for the planet, Cloud! Don’t you see those nuns are harassing the children? The planets dying ‘cause of them, we need to fix that! Cloud: Look, just pay me the money and I’ll take care of the orphans. Barret: No, we’re taking out the nuns! They work for the evil government! They’re selling those children off as slaves! Cloud: I said, give me the money and I’ll take care of the orphans… Human Mischief Chapter 3 By Koss_Knights Part One of Two It is dusk now…the leaves of autumn swirl about the dirt and stone of the earth, in a fury of rustling and wind. The trees are bare, and dead just as the land they once flourished upon is now. The Undead have steadily moved in on Azeroth and other great kingdoms and towns. They have left nothing but sorrow and decay in their dark and twisted path of the damned. They have so far defeated all that stand in their path with overwhelming numbers and fiery efficiency. Some warriors did nothing but draw a single breath before they were mercilessly murdered at the hands of the cunning creatures of death and woe. The scourge works so silently, even the nearest provinces won’t know their neighboring towns had been ruthlessly razed…until it becomes to late to even utter a shrieking scream of knowledge…the knowledge that their nightmares had come true, that they were to be had by the deathly grasp of corruption and eternal torment. And nearby a small hamlet, a grand dreadlord lurks in wait for the mighty death knight, Arthas… Tichondruis: Damn! Huff! Puff! I…can’t…get up on this hill! Groan! If Arthas sees me… Ghouls! Help me! Give me a boost before he arrives! I must look dramatic when I give him his first quest! Arthas: What the hell are you doing! Tichondruis is too late, for Arthas has arrived earlier, and is now looking at the dreadlord as he struggles to get up a particularly steep and very large hill. Tichondruis: Ahem! Never mind that young death knight! Arthas: Hmm…now that I’ve gotten a good look at you, you seem very familiar to a dreadlord I once killed in Northrend… Tichondruis: Stop looking at me like that! I’m not Mal’Ganis! I’m much more powerful than that pathetic sloth. Arthas: It feels so odd…I’ve killed everyone and damned everything I’ve ever loved, yet I feel no shame, no pity…no remorse. Tichondruis: The rune blade you carry was designed to steal souls! Yours is the first one it took. That is why you’ve become so heartless… Frostmourne: Souls?! Yuck, how disgusting! I only eat apple sauce and rusty pipes. Tichondruis: …Is that the frostmourne? What the hell did the Lich King do to it? And in the Frozen Throne, overseeing the conversation between Arthas and Tichondruis starts pondering deeply on what the dreadlord just said… Lich King, thinking: Hmm, I agree. There’s something wrong with that sword…I guess I shouldn’t have bought it on E-Bay. Arthas: I’m getting impatient. What is it you wish for me to do dreadlord? Tichondruis: You must brave these lands in search of…let’s see here: Milk, a dozen eggs, bats blood, lucky misfortunes cereal, ham…oh, wait! That’s my shopping list. Arthas: Is the entire scourge composed of idiots?! Tichondruis: That was uncalled for. It was a simple mix-up, no reason to call someone as grand as me an idiot. Ah, here’s the correct parchment. You must find the whereabouts of loyal supporters of the cult of the damned within this territory. You will bring these supporters to me. After that, I’ll give you more complex assignments. Let’s see if you can complete this simple task. Arthas: Wait, what about those twenty acolytes sitting on that hill over there having a picnic? Tichondruis: Oh, those? Uh…psst! Get down! I didn’t see anyone. All acolytes immediately sink as low as possible unto the earth, to avoid being seen. Arthas: Something odd is going on here…bah, no matter. So, where is the horde of undead that will escort me? I have no intention of taking on this towns garrison without a formidable army. Tichondruis: Er…here. Take this two ghouls. They will greatly aid you in your quest. Arthas: Two ghouls! You’re joking, right? Tichondruis: But…uh…these are special ghouls! They have…er…longer claws! Now away with you death knight! Find those supporters! Arthas gives Tichondruis one last look of disgust, and goes on his merry little way, which will probably end with mass murder…again. Just as Arthas leaves, another Dreadlord teleports next to Tichondruis… Mal’Ganis: Do you think he suspects anything at all? Tichondruis: No, nothing. That fool doesn’t realize I want him dead. Why else would I ask him to take care of the towns garrison with two ghouls? Hahahaha. Mal’Ganis: Excellent. Whatever the Lich King is planning for our eager killing machine will never be complete. Tichondruis: Hahahaha, indeed… *! Wait, aren’t you supposed to be dead? Mal’Ganis: I had an ankh of reincarnation. Tichondruis: Give me that! You’re not supposed to have those anymore. Remember how you took one from Mannoroth and got him killed?! Now away with you. Mal’Ganis: Bastard. That was my only one. I’ll make sure my vengeance will be all consuming and that—ack! Tichondruis became greatly angered at being threatened by a lesser dreadlord, so he decided to end his life. Acolyte: Master, isn’t it forbidden to kill a dreadlord? Tichondruis: Actually, I made the rulebook for dreadlords…yes, that is a rule. But if you look at section 1a, you’ll clearly see this: Section 1a. Dreadlord versus Dreadlord Conflict. It is hereby forbidden for a dreadlord to personally kill another. Doing so will make you an outcast, to be hunted by elite demon guards and other assorted minions. You will forever be banned from dreadlord actives such as night golfing, gothic poetry, and the weekly bingo games. However, one dreadlord makes an exception. The one called Mal’Ganis called me quote “a lipstick queer with no fashion sense” and so therefore, any dreadlord may freely slay this bastard. Acolyte: Seems like the dreadlord rulebook doesn’t seem to be quite fair… Tichondruis: Let me tell you a story. There once was a dreadlord who wore red lipstick, and all the other dreadlords laughed. No, they never let him play any dreadlord games, so he was left alone. Then one foggy Halloween, Archimonde came to town. He said “Tichondruis, with your lipstick so damn queer, won’t you guide my demons this night?” And how all the dreadlords loved him, when he stood at the podium and slipped…botching up a victory speech and breaking a wing with a girly shriek. Acolyte: I’m just…uh…going back to the picnic now…yeah. Tichondruis: Hmpf. I guess I’ll just teleport back into my keep. Wait…where’s my teleport license? Oh, crap! I left it on top of the hill. …Hello? Can someone pass me my license from up there? Come on! This isn’t funny! Give it back! …Damn In the meantime, in Agony Citadel… Death Knight: Are you sure this map is correct? Dreadlord: Well, that goblin didn’t seem too trustworthy, but I suppose his shop should be somewhere around here. Plus, he wouldn’t lie seeing as we’ve plenty of gold to give him for items. Death Cow: What’s that! All 3 heroes stop and look. They have chanced upon a mutation of magic and substance…a sludge monstrosity. Death Knight: Looks like a dirty pudding. Sludge Monstrosity: ? :( Dreadlord: You made it sad. Death Knight: Well, I’m terribly sorry for not sowing the seeds of a happy society, where all of man can enjoy the splendors of everyday life. Oh? Wait? I’m a Death Knight you tart! I’m evil! It is my duty to spread sorrow and death throughout these lands. Death Cow: But can’t you do that with a smile on your face? Death Knight: Oh, yes. I always smile…when I see my opponents’ liver just exploded from his skull after breaking their legs with my heel and casting death coil… Dreadlord: Aw, well isn’t that nice? He’s such a humanitarian! Death Cow: Since when does sadistically smiling make him such a thing? Death Knight: And since when the hell have you started asking more or less intelligent questions? Death Cow: I stole an intelligence tome from the Dreadlord and ate it. Tee hee. Dreadlord: That was my only tome, too… Death Knight: …You’re supposed to read it, not digest it! Death Cow: It tasted too…refined for me. Hee hee! I love my newly acquired vocabulary! And my mana raised up by 5 points! Dreadlord: Yes, your total of 10 mana will really turn the tide in our battle against the human alliance… Sludge Monstrosity: :( Death Knight: Yes, we know you’re still here. Go jiggle in that corner over there, you’re not in this conversation! This greatly vexes the sludge monster and he raises his bulk to attack! Death Cow: Stand back! I’ll protect you all with my great power! The Death Cow valiantly stands against the sludge monster, but the enraged magical creature just jumps on the cow and starts digesting him using saliva secretions from it’s mouth…or opening, or whatever that thing eats with. Dreadlord: Oh no! What are we going to do? Death Knight: You’re kidding right? Just carrion swarm it. Dreadlord: Alright. Carrion Swarm! And so a mighty wave of…flying bunnies attacks the…dreadlord? Dreadlord: No! The carrion bunnies, the carrion bunnies! Gah! Death Knight: Hahahaha, oh that’s rich! Dreadlord, struggling: Damn, I forgot this happens now! Why didn’t you tell me?! Death Knight: Oh, I daresay it…slipped my mind? Ha. Death Cow: Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just being digested. Nope, no need to HELP ME BEFORE IT SUCKS MY SKULL OUT! The Death Cow starts whistling rather sporadically and nervously, in betweens moos of pain, hoping one of his allies will help him. Unfortunately for him, the Dreadlord is fending off carrion bunnies, and the Death Knight is rolling of the ground with his legs in the air laughing uncontrollably. Who will save him?! (Captain Planet theme song starts playing.) Shaman: Storm, earth, and fire! Heed my call—wah, oof! Planeteers: We’ll be singing the song! EARTH! FIRE! WIND! WATER! HEART! Go Planet! The Power is—eek! Ma-Ti: The powers of the heart! It does nothing! Ack! Minutes later… Captain Planet: Sorry I’m late, but now it’s time to clean up pollution, Planeteers! The Pow—what happened?! Death Knight: Sorry, I had to kill them all. That song was really annoying. Er, you might want to clean up the mess. Oh, and that cow over there is being eaten by a monster…a dirty one. Captain Planet: Then I must use the power of water to destroy it! Water! A huge torrent of water hits the monstrosity but nothing happens. The Captain tries every ability at his disposal, but to no avail. Captain Planet: Well, screw this. I’m going to grab a hamburger and take a quick smoke. Fend for yourself. Wonder if there’s any good place that sells beer around here…? Dreadlord: Yargh! Finally! The last bunny has been killed! Death Knight: Oh? My, my, there’s no stopping you now. Dreadlord: Now it’s time to rip that monster into pieces! Yar! The Dreadlord charges at the mutation…and then gets stuck inside. And so, both the Death Cow and Dreadlord are now being digested. Death Cow: So, how’s it going? Dreadlord: Eh, could be better. How’s the wife and kids? Death Cow: I catapulted my wife into a castle wall, and my kids swore at me once, so I tied them to a tree, told them to think about what they’ve done, and assured them I’d be back by dusk. I never found that tree again…should’ve left a trail. Oh well. In the meantime, in Infinitous Mana’s inner sanctum… Part Two of Two Archmage: I’ve taken the liberty of hiring another hero. Odd fellow really. He calls himself a Blood Mage. Paladin: Sounds dangerous enough for me. Where is he? Archmage: My wizard aides are escorting him to my sanctum as we speak. I wonder when he’ll be here? Just then, the sanctums inner doors slam open, and two disgruntled wizards wheel in a man in a straightjacket and muzzle, ala Hannibal Lector style. The Blood Mage looks around him and sucks in the air with his tongue, making that peculiar noise. Wizard: You can free him. We’re not touching this psycho. And with that, the two wizards quickly make haste toward the exit. Archmage: Er…you do the honors. Paladin: Sigh, I always get the dirt jobs. Divine Shield! Adamas moves carefully toward the Blood Mage and undoes the bonds that hold him to the wheelchair. Then he carefully unties his straightjacket and muzzle. The Blood Mage stretches whilst looking all about him. Blood Mage: Hello, good humans! Paladin: Whew, he’s harmless. Blood Mage: But of course I am, my charming friend, I now belong to the alliance! I am fully aware that you—WILL DIE AS SOON AS I HAVE ENOUGH MANA TO BURN THIS PLACE INTO THE DEEPEST PITS OF HELL! HAHAHAHAHA! BURN IT TO A CINDER! BURN IT TO A—ugh. Archmage: Good thing my staff has some stunning attributes imbued upon it. Damn, this guys a loony. Paladin: You’re the one who hired him. I told you, my double-edge hammer is more than enough firepower, but no! You had to get a crazy elf hero to help us! Just then, the Blood Mage gets up from his stun, looking mildly puzzled. Blood Mage: What happened? Ugh. It feels as though a truck hit me… Archmage: Er…yes. You had a rough journey and as you spoke to us, you fainted. Paladin: …Stay away from me; both of you. I’m going to report to the captain, for I require 10 footmen. You’re not slithering out of our deal Infinitous! You’re still going to teach me Mass Teleport. I’ll be back directly…with the footmen. Blood Mage: What’s that I smell? Is it…mana?! Archmage: Yes, that would be my brilliance aura. I just turned it on for some more mana, as I am unfortunately, going to need all I can spare to teach Adamas mass teleport…sigh. Blood Mage: Sniff, Sniff! Ah…mana…magic…and….FIRE! BURN YOU ALL TO HELL! I’LL BURN THE FORESTS DOWN, FORGET THE ELVES OATH, I WANT TO SEE—ugh. Archmage: If I have to keep doing that, the batteries on my staff will run out. And in Agony Citadel, at the Altar of Darkness… Crypt Lord: From the depths I come! Necromancer: And what type of depths? We need to know before we consider recruiting you to help our already mighty three heroes. And nearby… Death Knight: Hahahaha! This is great! Come on guys, you’ve almost got it! Death Cow: Must…summon…demons… Dreadlord: Must…cowardly…run away…slow…painful speech…helping the agony of digestion…slightly. Death Knight, thinking: Oh, I suppose I’ll save them in the end. The cow can prove to be a good meat shield. Agony Citadel… Necromancer: So what depths do you come from? Watery depths? The not so deep depths? The depths of hell? The depths of our sewer system? You’re being very vague. Crypt Lord: Ok, ok. I just walked over here from my crypt. I live nearby here. Thanks for spoiling the moment. Necromancer: Eh, good enough. You are to aid our current heroes. We need you to do a gravely important task. Crypt Lord: I am up to the task for a grueling quest. Necromancer: Here, take these potions and distribute it to our heroes. Crypt Lord: But…that’s it? Necromancer: Oh, and here. Take this rally flag with you. Crypt Lord: Stop! What are you doing?! YEEEOOOOWWWWW! Crypt Lord: You…just shoved the rally flag into my back…ow…it hurts, it hurts. Necromancer: Yeah, well I guess your spiked carapace didn’t help. Crypt Lord: It doesn’t save me from an upward angle projectile…or sharp rally flag. Come on, take it out, take it out! It really hurts! Necromancer: Too bad. Read your job description. Crypt Lord: Wanted: Warrior Hero. Big, and imposing. Needed for makeshift pack mule?! …I hate having 8 eyes…makes reading very difficult. Sigh. It seems both sides are preparing for the ever-growing danger that will arise when they clash in battle, for they will gravely pay the price if they are caught unaware. The tide of war is coming with these autumn winds, and the leaves will carry the tales of the coming conflict to the neighboring alliances and garrisons. With these leaves, the wind will also assist in the tale, bringing with it a bitter fragrant smell…the stench of the death. Blood begins to boil, for soon this land, though already dead, will be beseeched with an even greater conflict. The time of woe and sorrow has begun, and not even the fiercest of creatures will escape the inevitable bloodshed that will follow… Arthas: Hello, my name is Arthas, and I am a death knight. Would you like to buy a pamphlet explaining all the benefits of joining the cult of the damned? Villager: No thanks. I already got cookies from those girl scouts. Shove off. Arthas: Damn those infernal girl scouts! Their time will come…yes…mwahahaha— Villager: I said get out! And on the other side of the village… Cloud: I think we should stay at that inn for the night. Barret: Yeah, might as well. They got a special tonight. Free breakfast cereal for overnight stays. How much gold do we need? Cloud: Gold? I have a more persuasive method. Inside the Inn… Innkeeper: Sorry, no vacancies left. Cloud: I’ve got a big sword here that says you do. Innkeeper: Gulp. Ok. Here’s a key, and your free cereal…eheh. Lucky Misfortunes! It’s a calamity in a box! Each spoonful of disgusting goodness is chockfull of misfortunes and pointy objects of every sort! And hey kids! It’ll turn your stomach inside out! Impress your friends for Halloween, weddings, Thanksgiving, or any day with your new image! Now comes in these excitingly fatal new flavors: Tragic Car Accident, Rusty pipes, Nuclear Misfortune, Sword Mishaps, and Cancer. And specially marked boxes have a cool prize inside like: Old nails, dead rats, rabid badgers, a severed foot, and even a rusty dagger! Whoa! Jump out of bed, fall ten feet from your bedroom window, and hobble on down to your local illegal supermarket today! Arthas: Hmm, whatever happened to those necromancers? Human Mischief Chapter 4 The Bloodmage Strikes! By Koss_Knights The propaganda has failed miserably. The council in Lordaeron cannot hold on to the lie they’ve fed their people any longer, for the bubble has been burst. The alliance is politically crumbling into complete and all encompassing oblivion, as the rulers and advisors of this land flee before the might of the desperate and enraged citizens they had so cunningly lied to. Meanwhile, the undead continue to advance upon the hapless defenders of what humanity is left within the brutal, bastardly beasts that were once deemed humans. Fathers abandon their families in search of solace, for the plague is all consuming. Caring mothers leave their children wanting, unfed, and defenseless as they cowardly back out of the pact that is motherhood. In search of their lost husbands perhaps? Or running away all the same, trying to survive the brooding torment that has encased the land? Many a village has been abandoned now. Mighty caravans of empty, hollow men and women now roam the countryside, invading churches, pillaging anything of value they find, for their valuables had to be hastily dumped or forgotten when they started their grueling journey. Can you not hear something in one of these villages? The crying of a single survivor, forgotten by its people, tis but the simple wailing of a small child, inquiring to the cold dead earth where his parents and friends had gone. The world coldly turns its shoulder away, for now only the coldhearted and strongest will survive. In Lightmoor Peak… Bloodmage: So my good friend! Where shall we travel? Archmage: Alas, I must make haste and find my ally, Adamas. He is insisting that I teach him the complex art of mass teleporting. Sigh. You’ll make due without me, will you? Bloodmage: But of course! I am completely trustworthy my friend—UNTIL I HAVE ENOUGH MANA TO BURN THIS PLACE INTO THE ABYSMAL PITS OF HELL! Archmage: Do you want me to stun you into a coma this time! Bloodmage: …mumble, fire… Archmage: That’s better. Although I fear leaving you alone I daresay you won’t cause many problems. You wouldn’t dare attack your own allies, now would you? Bloodmage: mumble, of course not, only burn them, mumble… Archmage: What was that? Hmpf! I think I’ll leave a water elemental to watch over you. No sooner had he made this statement had a water elemental formed from a masterful wave of his staff. Then, without a single second of hesitation the mage teleports outside to meet Adamas Dimlight, who has already assembled his footmen volunteers. Bloodmage: Pff. So you’re a water elemental? Fah! Weak little thing aren’t you? The water elemental doesn’t take this lightly, so it responds by forming 5 watery fingers on one hand and raising its newly acquired middle finger. Bloodmage: Oh, very clever. LET’S SEE HOW CLEVER YOU ARE WHEN I BURN—glub! Once again, the water elemental becomes greatly annoyed at the bloodmage and decides to shut him up by hitting him with a spray of icy cold water. Bloodmage: I’ll find a way to beat you—glub! Hey, stop that you—blub! Garble! Augh! Meanwhile at the troop barracks, 10 apprehensive footmen flock around a delighted paladin. Paladin: Ah, Infintious! Glad you could come on such short notice! So, I expect we’re to commence learning of mass teleport immediately? Archmage: Yes, but Adamas! This spell is of the utmost difficulty, and it requires precise knowledge of many fields in spell craft, not to mention a good deal of mana. It takes even some of the greater mages of Dalaran many years to learn this complex spell! Paladin: All right. I’m willing to spend any amount of time to at least understand your most impressive spell. Please, by all means continue. 5 short minutes later. Archmage: And that’s how you do it. So? Ready to try it out? Paladin: Yes, I’ve already sent one of my footmen out into the wilds so that I may focus on his being and center the spell on him. Ready everyone? Footmen: We get hazard pay, right? Footmen 2: No, I don’t think we do. Footmen: Crap. Paladin: Hahaha, don’t worry lads! I know what I’m doing! Hahaha, oops! I dropped my book--hold on now The Paladin gets his act together and presently becomes ready to cast the intricate spell many grand mages themselves have also strived to learn. (Because those cheap bastards can’t afford to fly coach in an Azeroth Airways United airplane.) With the utmost strain upon his face, he screams: “Mass Teleport!” and everyone around the paladin is engulfed in a brilliant spectacle of astounding light. Archmage: Why, our surroundings have changed! You dastardly dog, you’ve done it! You’ve learned mass…oooo… Paladin: What’s wro—oh, damn. Was this supposed to happen? Archmage: You…you…I…what? Paladin: Damn, I only teleported a portion of them, all in assorted limbs and organs. …I think I need more practice with the spell. Archmage: You teleported pieces instead of the whole…sigh. Why did I ever agree to this? And back at the troop barracks… Bewildered Footmen: Uh…captain? You better come look at this… And in Mana’s Inner Sanctum, the bloodmage’s patience finally snaps, for the water elemental continues to pummel him enjoyably with rock solid jolts of water. Bloodmage: THAT’S IT! EVERYTHING BURNS NOW! FLAMESTRIKE! FLAMESTRIKE! FLAMESTRIKE!!!!! And Infinitous Mana’s Inner Sanctum lights up in a cataclysmic fireball of epic proportions. However, the shocking thing is, only the water elemental and the fanatical bloodmage succumb to the fiery explosion, while everything else in the sanctum remained unscathed. Apparently, Infinitous overlooked nothing, and encased his private quarters with an anti-flame charm, in the event that a fire ever broke out. Bloodmage, singed: It was, cough, cough, all worth it. Too bad I’m not fireproof… I hope these 3rd degree burns won’t leave a scar, cough, cough! Whilst the alliance sorts out the chaos that is rampaging unresolved through Lightmoor Peak, let us take a gander at what is happening at Agony Citadel. Necromancer: I told you, no! We won’t accept you as a hero to the scourge! Michael Jackson: I thought you were my agent! Don’t you remember the good old days when you gave me control of a legion of ghouls so I could direct the Thriller music video? I even underwent plastic surgery to look more like the undead! Necromancer: You want to be a hero?! Are you out of your mind? What’s going to be your ability, molest? Michael Jackson: Those allegations are all false and you know it! I’ve never done anything wrongful to your ghouls! Ghoul: Lies…lies… Michael Jackson: Beat it! You don’t want to be defeated. Necromancer: Listen, we don’t want you as a hero of the undead. We want to look as horrifying to the enemy as possible but you’ve crossed the limit! We’re not that heartless! Think of the children! … No, wait. On second thought, don’t. Michael Jackson: Why won’t anyone accept me as an Undead agility hero? Necromancer: I looked at your resume. Your abilities are laughable. Crotch Grab is one of them. I mean, what the hell is that? Just get out of here. Go make some more feeble attempts at preserving your career. Take him away! And nearby, 3 undead heroes are locked in mortal combat against a dirty pudding— Sludge Monstrosity: :( --I’m sorry, you like to be called a “sludge monster.” Sludge Monstrosity: :D Death Cow: Must…use…ultimate technique to stop my beefy innards from being digested! Must…ugh…ah, screw it. The Death Cow begins whistling again, and looks at his watch. Dreadlord: Lord Grimheart…help us. Death Knight: How dare you call me by my name, Moronigimon? Death Cow: Tee hee. His name is Grimheart. Snicker! Sludge Monstrosity: :p Death Knight: How dare you mock me! Die! Divine Destruction! With that, the Death Knight unleashes a grand spell of combined necromancy, raw muscle power, an ancient sword technique, and the combinations of 5 instantaneous death coils—all directed at the sludge monstrosity. It becomes mere nothing, and the Dreadlord and Death Cow lie blinking, stunned by the massive fury of the unknown attack. Death Knight: I am the death knight! Mwahahahaha! Dreadlord: *_* Death Cow: x__x The two heroes stare at the death knight who could perhaps even match the grim reapers power. They just gape open-mouthed at what they had witnessed. Death Knight: All right, let’s move on. We’re to continue scouting the area…as well as finding a goblin merchant, or perhaps a marketplace, where we may purchase goods of great power. Dreadlord: Can we pause a moment? Being partly digested by creep rather drained my strength. And, come to think of it, made me rather hungry… The Death Knight has already impatiently pressed onward, and the only thing that hears the Dreadlord’s plight is the Death Cow. The dreadlord notices this and smiles devilishly at the cow, whom he supposes is defenseless. Death Cow: I WARNED YOU NOT TO EVEN THINK ABOUT EATING ME! Dreadlord: Hahaha, what are you going to do? Squirt a volley of milk at me? Hahaha. Death Cow: Milk Coil! The Dreadlord was only joking but he was so shocked at the coil of tainted milk coming at him it hit the hero straight in the face, stunning him by the sheer spell that was just used on him. Death Cow: Now, we make amends! FOR THE GLORY OF THE UNDEAD! YAR! The Death Cow quickly picks up the Dreadlord and shoves him into his gaping mouth. He then begins to chew and merrily skips to meet up with the Death Knight. In the meantime, a status report has been sent to the Captain of Lightmoor Peak, notating the troubles that were caused today. Knight: Sire, here is your status report: 1. Adamas Dimlight attempted a Mass Teleport and managed to botch the spell up splendidly. He teleported the limbs and several internal organs of our finest footmen. Many of whom were due for R&R. We’ve taken the liberty of shipping what we could find of them and mailing them to their next of kin and/or loved ones. They were pleasantly surprised when we said that their pride and joy would be coming home for Christmas. We left out the “in pieces part.” 2. The bloodmage, Lunatis Pyros, has attempted to burn down Infinitous Mana’s inner sanctum, but due to the pyro-charm that was in affect inside, he only managed to severely burn himself, and a water elemental. The water elemental has survived the assault and is insisting that it will press charges against the bloodmage. It said the attack was completely unwarranted, as it was only playfully bashing Lunatis to death with massive torrents of water. Upon carefully listening to its complaints we promptly dispelled the water elemental. When the priests asked to be paid for the task we replied with a kind thank you: “You might as well pray for that bonus, because you’ll get it when hell freezes over and hosts an ice show for little children.” 3. Lastly, the undead scourge has taken over key areas that were under our command until as of late. Our brave soldiers—which masterfully retreated when given the opportunity, and our virtuous knights, whom intelligently pissed away all our gold on the racetrack (the gold was meant for hero revival costs and life insurance.) have failed in their defense of 5 major cities, 15 villages, 30 hamlets, and the ice cream factory, which is now under the control of a Lich with a sweet tooth. His name is Chilling Boner. Our selfless scouts, who paid little children to do the scouting for them have returned with the information that Chilling Boner is a level 8 Lich. This does not bode well sire, as we can now see the more talented undead heroes have begun to populate the area. 4. [I]Here is a recent update on our defensive stance sire. Apparently even though many cities fell to the undead might, a band of brave individuals have been successful in…oh, dear lord…defending a strip club. Yes, never mind the orphanage across the street, they chose the strip club. Sigh. That concludes my report. In the meantime, Lunatis Pyros, who was recently healed by a reluctant priest, has tracked down the archmage. Poor Pyros is a magic addict, and after the spectacle inside Mana’s inner sanctum he’s run out of mana. As a result, the archmage’s brilliance aura has inspired him to find the one who operates this might passive ability. Bloodmage: Hello, my good friend! It’s a fine day to BURN THE BARRACKS INTO A CINDER! Oh, ahem. Sorry. NO I’M NOT, I WANT YOU TO BURN IN HELL LIKE ALL THE OTHER FOOTMEN I DESTROYED ON MY WAY HERE! Oh, my? Did I say that? Terribly sorry old chap, sometimes my anger gets the best OF A BURNING DESIRE TO STEAL THE MANA OF SMALL CHILDREN AND SET THEIR TOYS ON FIRE! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Archmage: Sigh. What do you want Pyros? Bloodmage: Pardon me. Ahem. Well, I couldn’t help but find someone to talk to and I…sniff! Sniff! Is that mana? Yes! It is! It is! More mana to help the poor and to spread the goodwill of WILDFIRES AS WIDE AS THE WORLD ITSELF! ALL THE FORESTS ARE BURNING, ALL THE FORESTS ARE—oh, my. I just can’t seem to control myself. Archmage: Er, you can step away from me now. Adamas is nearby. Don’t make me call him to my aide. However, this is just an empty threat, for Adamas is fighting a perilous battle… In a geeky voice: Our programmer has fallen! Paladin: Damn that 100 words per minute ultimate! My Lazy Blue-Collar worker was totally unprepared for that! Other player, via the PC screen: Haha! You uber-noob! I have too many tier 3 teens with pre-paid lunch swarming your weak army of Coding Programmers! Bwahahahaha! Paladin: Damn, if only I scouted using my heroes google search spell, I could’ve countered him with Lunch Ladies! I hate HumanCraft! Console: You’ve failed to achieve victory—you queer. Paladin: What the hells a noob?! And on the other side, the “other” player is revealed… Lich King: Oh man! I love this game! I already have a windows program error icon! ^.^ I’ll tell Arthas right away! War.Net searching for a game…searching…searching….Jesus Christ, how bad are you at this game…searching…searching…War.Net error! War.Net recognizes you as a total noob with no skill whatsoever. There is no one this side of Hell with your atrocious skill and therefore you must wait until we give you a free win because we feel sorry for you. Please stay logged on so the request form can be sent, along with your picture and statistics, so on our next board meeting we can have a good laugh again. Paladin: What the hells a noob?! Meanwhile, the bloodmage is getting ever closer to the archmage, making him nervous… [Bloodmage: Mana…mana… Archmage: That’s it! Mass Teleport! And in a lush, green meadow… Archmage: Whew! Finally got rid of that lunatic! Bloodmage: Hi! With dawning horror the archmage turns around to see that the bloodmage had hitched a ride by jumping on his unicorn steed’s back at the last moment. Bloodmage: So, think you could fill a few jars worth of mana potions for me? I promise to use it toward BURNING DOWN THIS MEADOW! For now, both sides have begun to move their pawns in this giant chess game of wits. Unfortunately, the pawns are real men, so is the sacrifice of these fighters worth it? Perhaps, unless the battlefield somehow changes…then battle plans will have to be readjusted and played out anew, keeping in mind the previous causalities of such an endeavor. For now, both factions plan, and move cautiously out into the play field, for fear in stumbling upon something that was unknown to them… Paladin: Finally! A good team match should cheer me up! Holy_FlyBoy: Hello. SupaMage: I’ll mass printers, ok? Paladin: Why me? Sob! Death Knight: Say, what are you chewing? Death Cow: The Dreadlord. :D What has happened to Cloud, Arthas, and the others? Find out in the next chapter… ;)

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