Far Seer

If you want to publish something funny here, mail it to MacMark.

Undead Follies Chapter 4

Story by Koss_Knights.

They do not need eyes to guide them, for their blades do the guidance. They need not wear flashy, heavy armor, for their agility is the thing that keeps them alive. They need not speak, nor even utter a single word to perform the most deadly of spells; for they are as silent as the night… they are demon hunters. Atop a high summit, young and aspiring demon hunters come up, to the very top of the steep mountain to complete their training. To be a true demon hunter, one most ritually blind himself, so he can see the vengeful spirits of the demons and dead of lore. One such demon hunter is already on his way…

Demon Hunter: Huff! Puff! So many hours! I’ve seen nothing but rocky crags! This has got to be the highest point in Kalimdor!

The Demon Hunter, despite being tired, is determined to make it to the top, and he does. He is then greeted by a druid, who is to oversee the demon hunters’ ritual.

Druid: About time you made it! What took you so long?

Demon Hunter: A thousand pardons, but the journey up the summit was a treacherous one, and it took me many agonizing hours to climb to the top.

Druid: Show off. You could’ve just used the elevator, like every other new demon hunter!

Demon Hunter: Elevator?! I…climbed up…for hours, and all this time there was an elevator…

Druid: Yeah, sucks for you.

Demon Hunter: Shall I begin the ceremony?

High gusts are not uncommon at the top of the summit, so as the Druid speaks, the demon hunter can barely understand him, due to the fierce wind that plays about his ears.

Druid: …be right back. You understand all that? Good.

The Druid disappears into a small den, leaving the demon hunter alone facing a thin slab of stone in the middle of the summit. On top of this stone lies an intricate knife, and alongside it, a blindfold.

Demon Hunter: I see what I must do now. He must’ve entered the den because he’s too squeamish. Hmm…let’s see here. A dagger, and a blindfold…and my eyes. Ah! I’ve got it!

And with realization dawning upon the excited demon hunter, he takes the dagger, holds it up to the moonlight and stabs himself in both eyes, forever sealing his sight from the light of the world. Yet, with this ritual complete, he no longer needs eyes. No, now his spirit will guide him, and his blades shall seek out the demonic spirits that still haunt Kalimdor. As the Demon Hunter puts on the blindfold, the Druid comes back, with a small box…

Demon Hunter: I did as per your instruction, wise druid. I have completed the ritual, and have become a full-fledged demon hunter.

Druid: …you didn’t stab yourself with that knife by any chance, did you?

Demon Hunter: As a matter of fact, I did.

Druid: That wasn’t the ritual blade…it was my butter knife. I said I’ll be in the den making a sandwich. You were supposed to bring me the knife, not stab yourself with it!

Demon Hunter: …I’ll be able to see, right?

Druid: Pull yourself together! You stabbed your eyes with a butter knife ! You’re not going to see anymore, much less sense demonic spirits!

Demon Hunter: …I’m sure my newfound sense is just warming up! I’ll just take the elevator down the summit, and head toward Azeroth.

The Demon Hunter walks off, but he misses the elevator door, trips over a rock, and tumbles down the summit…the hard way.

Druid: …I need to go on vacation. That’s the fourth one this week…

Meanwhile, in the thick forests of Azeroth…

Death Knight: Well? Where the hell is it? We’ve been walking for days and not a single sign of an undead skeleton steed.

Dreadlord: We will find it death knight. Oh, look! A bunny! It’s so cute and cuddly!

Death Knight: What the hell?

Dreadlord: Aw, but it has a thorn stuck to its paw. I’ll help the little fellow.

The Dreadlord picks up the bunny, and plucks the thorn out of the paw. The bunny, relieved that no harm will come to it, decides to just look at the Dreadlord, silently thanking him for removing his burden.

Death Knight: Just one swift stab…he won’t even feel it…

But as the Death Knight thinks about the possibilities, a sudden change forms over the Dreadlord…his eyes narrow, and his face twists into a maniacal smile.

Dreadlord: A bunny? Yes…a bunny. Bunny…yes, bunny! Hahahhaha! Kill the bunny! Rah!

Before anyone could see it coming, the dreadlord starts strangling the poor creature, slashing it with his claws, and then chucks it across the forest, where it hits a nearby tree…

Death Knight: …stay away from me.

Dreadlord: What? Something wrong?

Death Knight: Let’s just look for the horse.

And nearby, a Paladin happens to see a bunny flying out of nowhere, where it comes to rest on a tree.

Paladin 4: That tree must’ve broken its fall…hmm…if a holy light can frag a seal, can it do that to a bunny…?

Several hours later, at a port in the lower lands of Kalimdor, the Demon Hunter rents a boat, and sets sail for Azeroth, in search of evil beings.

Demon Hunter: This steering wheel seems kind of funny…

Sailor: That’s not a steering wheel, that’s the latrine… you might want to wash your hands when you’re done with that.

Demon Hunter: Oh—

Sailor: Crap? Yeah, I know. We haven’t emptied it recently.

While back in Azeroth…

Death Knight: There! I think that’s it!

Dreadlord: I wonder what happened to that poor bunny?

Death Knight: Oh, I don’t know…why don’t you ask the Dreadlord who chucked it halfway across the forest?! Oh, great! And this horse isn’t even undead!

Dreadlord: It appears to just be…dead.

Death Knight: Great! Well, there’s no way in hell I can ride it then! Oh, forget it! Let’s just get out of this forest.

Dreadlord: I think the Dreadlord Police must’ve confiscated Ner’Zhul’s shipment…and then replaced it with something more…suitable?

Death Knight: Forget it. Let’s just assemble our forces and attack another village. We need to spread the plague. It’ll take us a whole week to get ready…your job is to ship out the plague, and distribute the weapons among our minions.

A week later, the Demon Hunter makes it to Azeroth…

Captain: And stay out!

Demon Hunter: What did I do wrong?

Captain: You keep poking and smelling my sailors! Demented bastard! I told you, they’re not evil spirits and they’re not undead! Now stop searching my sailors, and get off my ship!

And at an Undead Encampment…

Death Knight: Have you distributed the armor?

Dreadlord: Yes, and here is a sample of the shields I forged myself. It’s the level one unholy armor upgrade.

Death Knight: It’s just a thin slab of wood! What in the hell!

Dreadlord: Correction, it’s unholy wood, it’s stronger than any known metal.

And in front of the dreadlords eyes, the death knight snaps the wooden shield in half, with amazing ease.

Death Knight: Yeah, real quality work! It’s not even unholy is it?

Dreadlord: …no. That sparkling unholy power is really just…glitter.

Death Knight: You gave our ghouls a flimsy wooden shield with glitter on it?!

Dreadlord: Well, it looked nice…

Death Knight: Oh, no! I ordered you to ship out the plague! Please tell me you did it right!

Dreadlord: Well, I decided to use a slightly different recipe for the plague.

Death Knight: …but there’s only one recipe for it, there is no improvising…

Dreadlord: Well, I didn’t like how the plague looked, so I changed it…and accidentally made chocolate chip cookies and ice cream instead.

Necromancer: Yeah, and they’re pretty good!

Death Knight: You sent out crates of cookies and ice cream !? What the hell is the matter with you? What kind of evil are you?!

Dreadlord: I don’t know…it all happened when those Holy Lights hit me…

Several hours later, the demon hunter enters the sentinels’ encampment…

Huntress: Priestess, we found this hero stumbling down the road asking trees directions into our encampment.

Demon Hunter: Those were trees? …No wonder they ignored me…

Priestess of the Moon: Well…the more the better, I suppose…

Keeper of the Grove: Yes, we are to hunt down undead that reside nearby here.

Priestess of the Moon: What do you mean, we ? You’re just a gardener, shut up and plant those flowers!

Keeper of the Grove: But I can summon mighty trees and healing rain! And what about my entangling roots?

Priestess of the Moon: Yes, the trees help you pot plants, the rain helps your flowers grow faster, and the entangling roots are used to pull out weeds. Now back to your meaningless task, you useless bastard. There’s no way I’ll use you as a secondary hero.

Keeper of Grove: Well, I’m going anyway, whether you like it or not. I am ready for battle, of any sort.

Just then, a small fuzzy animal walks over to the 3 heroes and…

Keeper of the Grove: Here we go! I’ll demonstrate on this little critter!

Priestess of the Moon: No, don’t!

Keeper of the Grove: Not to worry, my awesome power won’t hurt you. Entangling Roots! See? It was killed instantly!

Priestess of the Moon: Tell me, can you run quickly on those legs of yours?

Keeper of the Grove: Yes, why?

Priestess of the Moon: Because you just killed my pet! Get over here!

Keeper of the Grove: Oh, have mercy! Ah!

The Keeper makes a mad dash for the nearby Altar of Elders…

Keeper of the Grove: Let me back in! I don’t want to safeguard the land anymore! Ah!

Alas, too late. The Priestess’s white tiger has already pounced on the Keeper of the Grove, and begins ripping him to pieces.

Priestess of the Moon: They’re going to need more than 500 gold to piece together your body parts at the altar when I’m done with you!

Keeper of the Grove: Forces of Nature!

With that garbled enchantment, the Keeper of the Grove summons willing treants, ready to aid their master. But the treants instead…

Keeper of the Grove: Don’t attack me ! Attack her! Ugh!

The Keeper of the Grove dies, and is sent back into the altar.

Huntress: Our Gardener has fallen !

Huntress 2: That’s the 2nd time today…

Demon Hunter: Here little critter, come on. Good boy!

Archer: Should we tell him that he’s petting a dead critter?

Archer 2: I think when he blinded himself, his mind snapped too…

Meanwhile, at a village nearby the undead encampment…

Villager: Look! A shipment from Andorhal!

Child: What’s in it?

Women: Cookies?

All Children: Yaay!

And in disguise, nearby the crowd of villagers…

Death Knight (masked as a nun): You eternal imbecile.

Dreadlord (masked as an exotic dancer): These high heels are killing me.

The Undead heroes, having their own problems, do not know that soon, they shall do battle with fierce night elf heroes! Soon, they will battle the might of the demon hunter, the determination of the priestess of the moon, and…the gardening skills of the Keeper of the Grove…as soon as he’s revived…meanwhile, in the central provinces of Lordaeron, Arthas makes his triumphant return to his fathers’ kingdom. However, unknown to the cheering populace, Arthas has more for his father than a hug…

Lich King (using telepathy): Tell your father I’m still around Arthas. We used to be old high school buddies. He’ll remember me.

Frostmourne: Why didn’t you polish me, Arthas? Don’t you care about me anymore?

Arthas: Mumble, I can’t hear you, no, I can’t…

Guard: Welcome back, Arthas!

Arthas: Ah! Hiss! Away!

Meanwhile, an old Tauren Chieftain sits in the center of the thick forests of Azeroth, next to a dead horse, smiling…

Chapter 5, the Night Elves vs. the Undead to come soon.