(Is it still a lady when it is just some gas wearing a few pieces of armor? The Dungeon Journal says she is? We are sure? Well then. Ooh la la!)
Hello beauteous lady. It is I, Maurice, the Death Knight of Love. Perhaps you have heard of me, yes? No? Ah, it is no matter. We are, after all, a very, very long way from Stormwind, where the ladies all know my face and run and hide and bar the doors, for elsewise their emotions would run away with them and they would swoon with unrestrained passion.
Tonight, my sweet artichoke of amor, you will be giving me your undivided attention. You will be unable to help yourself, for I have the Blood Presence, the Dark Pact, and the delectable Death Grip. I am also, of course, far more handsome than my, to be honest, rather crude and unrefined companions. So you shall have eyes only for me as they, regrettably, kill you. But do not be concerned, my scrumptious petunia of obsession, for what we feel for one another is True Love. How can it be less? And True Love can never be stopped by such a little thing as death. I know these things, for I am the Death Knight of Love.
13 comments:
I can't wait for him to meet Therazene :D
A little early on Monday to be hitting the sauce, yes? =P
Oh wait... he posted it on Sunday. Damn hangover...
Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.
The weird thing is that I'm almost certain Ertan used to be neuter; in the past it said "Ertan retracts its cyclone shield whatsit!", whereas now it says "Ertan retracts *her* cyclone shield whatsit".
@Anon
"Your mouth say 'grind him into the mud with the force of a thousand anvils' but your eyes, they say 'oh yes yes, you handsome man'!"
@tkc
Need More Rage: We sound drunker sober than you sound totally shnockered!
@Armond
Long as nobody decides fer ta blave.
@Fletcher
Buggered if I know.
Challenge accepted. "A few nights ago Rory's Roger iron's rusted, so he's gone to the local battle-cruiser to catch the end of his footer. Nobody is watching the custard so he turns the channel over. A fat man's north opens and he wanders over and turns the Liza over. 'Now fuck off and watch it somewhere else.' Rory knows claret is imminent, but he doesn't want to miss the end of the game; so, calm as a coma, he stands and picks up a fire extinguisher and he walks straight past the jam rolls who are ready for action, then he plonks it outside the entrance. He then orders an Aristotle of the most ping pong tiddly in the nuclear sub and switches back to his footer. 'That's fucking it,' says the guy. 'That's fucking what' says Rory. Rory gobs out a mouthful of booze covering fatty; he then flicks a flaming match into his bird's nest and the man's lit up like a leaky gas pipe. Rory, unfazed, turned back to his game. His team's won too. Four-nil. "
@tkc
What? Sounds perfectlies clear ta me. But Lock Stock and Two Fluggernubbin' Barrels do be a great flick, so thumbs up on that.
As a fellow death knight, I admire Maurice's unconventional approach to undeath. Far to many of our kind take the whiny emo brat route.
Now Mikey the Piker from 'Snatch' can mutter with the best of them.
Snort and dirty laugh @ Ratshag's ...your eyes say....grind into the mud...anvils
Gives a whole new meaning to Anon's "retracting her cyclone shield"
*dirty filthy laughter here*
Dammit meant 'Fletcher' :(
Dammit meant 'Fletcher' :(
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