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((On the same stage as before... a wobbly pile of junkboxes. This time set up near the Rear Gate of Orgrimmar... the one that opens into the Barrens side, so the alliance participants can see what is going on inside, and can hear without the magical microphone and speaker system.))
Welcome to our second show, Gentlemen and Leapers.
We've changed our location today due to some faulty mechanical contraptions...
*/glare at Grimms*
but that's ok! It just means that instead of fake laughs, I'm going to have to work some real laughs out of you guys! That shouldn't be too difficult... I am the funniest Tauren in this troupe, after all.
Alright everyone, how are you doing tonight?!
Ok, I can see what's happening. I know with the war going on, there hasn't really been a lot of entertainment going on these days, so let me just explain to you how this is supposed to work. When the person on stage asks you a question, you either yell back a response, or you start screaming and cheering. You don't just sit there staring and judging a failing comedian, you just don't!
Ok, let's try this again. HOW ARE YOU DOING TONIGHT, ORGRIMMAR!?
((One person cheers, one person yells something rude.))
I just flew in from Ratchet, and boy are my arms tired! No, but seriously folks, has anyone been to Ratchet recently? Seems they've put in a flight master! It's true, you can now fly from the Crossroads to Ratchet! Talk about lazy! Next thing you know they'll be putting one in at Camp Taurajo... for the Alliance!
Speaking of the Barrens, has anyone tried the Dig Rat Stew? It's pretty good, but what I'm wondering is just what exactly are those rats digging for?
Ok, well, until we get that laugh machine fixed, I think we should just head right into today's game. Here's how it works. One of my lovely assistants is going to start a story, and then anyone can chime in to help tell the story. The catch is you only get three sentences until you have to pipe down and let the next person chime in. Think carefully... or don't! It might be more fun that way!
Edited by Remnit on 5/24/2012 7:17 AM PDT
((Take the story in any direction you please, but be mindful that it should make sense when it's all strung together. For example, if someone wrote, "Once upon a time there was a beautiful goblin princess whose name was Fineprint. She was on her way to the Old Port Authority to pick up some pirate supplies. The sun was rising over the calm and peaceful water surrounding Booty Bay." you could continue with something like, "But then, seemingly out of nowhere, Bloodsail pirates hijacked the ship she was on!" but you couldn't continue with something like, "Fineprint continued to mend her Lovely Blue Dress while seated on a bench in Stormwind." because that wouldn't make sense! Well, technically you COULD do that, but we would just completely ignore your post.
Other fine print: By posting in this thread you agree to keep things on topic, in character (unless using double parentheses) and enjoy the spirit of the game.
Definition of furious: of unrestrained energy, speed, etc.: furious activity.
Definition of makeout: To get along in a given way; fare: made out well in business.
More fine print to come if I feel like more things need to be clarified.))
Edited by Fineprint on 5/21/2012 7:49 AM PDT
Assistants?! *She snorts indignantly* Can't argue about the 'lovely' part though... anyway, to continue the story...
Little did she know, she would find so much more than she was expecting.
While galloping through a clearing in Silverpine Forest one morning, Rhelanor ...*She coughs and arches an eyebrow at Thel* was forced to pull her horse up to an abrupt halt. Before her stood someone she had never expected to see again.
After taking a moment to regain her composure, Rhelanor narrowed her eyes and gave the man a calculating look. "Perhaps I'll tell you what I'm doing here... if you can explain to me why you left me for dead to that pack of diseased murlocs back in Tranquilien."
His grin faltered slightly, but he was quick with his reply.
The man removed his hat and wiped his brow with a velvet handkerchief. "I left you, yes. But only because I knew that the murlocs would make you their princess. After all," the man suddenly let out a series of gurgles and coos. "I *am* a murloc. I was cursed into this ugly blood elf form."
The man looked like he was going to say something, but suddenly his eyes grew wide and he gasped.
Rhelanor leapt off of her horse and dropped into a roll on the forest floor just in time to avoid the arrow that flew swiftly through the space she had just been occupying.
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