Aestu wrote:
I read the Muerte post
/fold
/bow
oh god muerte wins the internet
I told you. Muerte fucking destroyed it.
I laughed so hard I had to walk out of a meeting I was in at work.
For those that are not lame enough to be a member of the HS forums....enjoy the greatest application response ever.
For those who need a legend: Cinnaomin -> Cienma ->Hur are all rob as he changed names. Muertedolor is the HS spriest.
Quote:
Once upon a time, there was a priest who practiced the hallowed arts of Discipline. His name was Duertemolor. He was content in his little castle of shields and bubbles, and times were good. Trowbz' big bear butt was penanced, hard, every ulduar raid, and henq's cute little boots dangled as he levitated, swishing beneath his obese orc frame. The only other priests in the land were Sowny, a jolly fellow with a propensity for little children, and He Who Shall Not Be Named, who did the DPS of the cosmos, while standing in Cosmic Smash. Things were good, for a while.
One day, a dark fellow arrived on the scene and whispered in Duertemolor's ear, "the ssssshadows call you." This dark fellow has had many names to many people..Poodle, Rob, Cinnamon, Ciemna, Meeb...Hur. Regardless of the name, this man carried with him the darkest of intentions. A plan so dastardly that no single person could possibly fathom the depths of hatred it would summon. He whispered to Duertemolor, "come to the dark side..." Unlike Luke Skywalker, Duertemolor was like, "fuck and yes, inc shadowssssss".
For a while it was good. This dark man trained Duertemolor. Taught him the ways of the damage over time and the pew pew dark lasers face melters. One day he sent Duertemolor a request, an invitation to a sacred bond that few individuals would even consider due to its gravity. On that day, the darkness swirled, it coalesced, and finally, it dispersed (though perhaps, in hindsight, it dispersed a moment too soon for the pungent blight that followed). The two joined each other atop the DPS charts, atop the gchat lists, and
...
....as Real ID and Facebook friends.
Yes, dear reader, that is not a typo. These two shadow priests were joined in a relationship that not even IRL marriage and the consummation thereof can begin to approach. They traded the lulz. And for a while - things were good.
One day, fate interjected itself between these shadowy figures, and their world of warcraft was torn asunder. The dark man was alone, wandering in the desert, when a burning tree spoke to him. "YO. TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF." The dark man was unphased, and quickly replied "I cannot. My boots have a 108.74 DPET value." The burning tree was impressed, and reached down its flaming branches to scoop this dark man into his arms. "I shall feed you pie, and you shall be known as Ciemna." he coo'ed while his new baby rocked in his arms. "But first! Cast aside all that is Bleeding! All that is Hollow! Thou shall have NOTHING to do with something that is called, the Hero Squad.."
And, like the piece of shit cocksucker motherfucker bitch ass junk slut belly-licking what the french toast murloc scum that he is, our dark man, now Ciemna, missed nary a beat. As though possessed by the elitist cum guzzlers that lured him away with shiny "server firsts" and "heroic lewtz", he immediately purged his life of all the was Bleeding. All that was Hollow.
Yes, my friends. Yes - that included removing our hero Duertemolor from his Real ID and Facebook friend lists. Such an act, as evil, as soulless, as downright fuckwaddery as this went unpunished, and Duertemolor was left broken, penniless, destitute and willing to whore himself out to any tank with a shield and two copper to rub together.
Time passed, and the wounds healed. Slowly but surely, Duertemolor learned to stand on his own two feet as the only slinger of shadows in the guild. The tears began to dry. The melancholy..the slow ache of a love lost but not forgotten, that remained. And it may remain forever. For this iteration of the dark man, this Hur - be not fooled by his new appearance. He has the capability, NAY the desire, the strike at the heart of he whom we hold dearest - our own Duertemolor.
Now I would not leave you all with such a sad tale and sordid state of affairs after all this reading. There has been a comeuppance! In anticipation of this application, the dark man began to slowly re-socialize. He answered IMs. He posted pictures of the Panama Canal as a depiction of Duertemolor's menstrual cycle. Cautiously, carefully, and not without the hope of nations resting on his weakened heart, Duertemolor sent our dark man a friend request on facebook. It was accepted the next day. All was finally right in the world.
...Or was it?
Check your friends list, SUCKA. I defriended the FUCK out of you. SUP NOW BITCH. WHAT WHAT DO SOMETHIN UNGGGGHHH
