But, dammit! I got in!
And it's Awesome!
Think Magic: The Gathering's smaller, less complex brother with a simpler rule set and faster play, all dressed up in World of Warcraft lore. Yeah. It's that awesome.
Again, go to www.battle.net right now to sign up.
You're welcome.
Anyway, I've been playing hearthstone pretty much all day, and it's got me thinking. In games like hearthstone and MtG, your deck represents a book of spells you can cast during battle. But where do the creatures you can summon go before and after they fight for you on the battlefield? Do they all just kinda hang out in a bar, drinking and swapping war stories? I like to think so. So Ima sit right here and write a story about that. Interested?
Good. Here we go!
- - - - -
FWOOMPSH!
Grok the orc stumbled out of the cloud of aether he had just materialized in, coughing and patting himself to make sure he was all there. He spent a moment with his head between his knees, gathering his equilibrium before shoving his way to the bar. The rest of the motly patrons of The Mana Bar (Best Drinks or Your Vomit Back!) took no notice of him besides politely giving him a bit of air. People proofing into existence in the bar was pretty commonplace.
"Jeez, Grok, what's got into you? I've never seen you so hammered after a summoning." The bartender said, sliding Grok a frothing mug of ice cold ale.
"Some dumbass kid must've traded for my card." Grok said, taking a long pull from his drink. "Stupid kid summons me, right, and I'm ready to bash some skulls! I've got my axe all sharpened and everything. I'm thinking to myself I'm thinking: 'you're gonna do it this time, Grok, you're finally gonna cleave somebody right in two with Betsy!' Oh, yeah, Betsy's my axe, anybody gotta problem? No? Good. So anyway, I'm gettin psyched, man. I'm ready, you know?" Grok lowered his gaze into his now half empty mug for a moment before continuing.
"So anyway, I look around and there's like six of us. Me, two big ass hill giants, Bob (you remember Bob, right? Crazy lookin' dude? Draws cards and burns people? Yeah, that one.) and a couple of prissy looking wizards off to the left. One of 'em's got this crazy contraption on his arm that's all sparking and stuff, I'm kinda surprised it hasn't caught his pretty robes on fire, the other one's all quiet like, stroking his beard and hefting a pretty badass looking flaming staff. Obviously some red went into making this guy, looks like he could snap any minute. You know it's the quiet ones you gotta watch." Grok waves for a refill, and waits for the growing crowd to stop talking over one another, mostly in agreement about the quiet ones, or recounting their own memories of Bob, before pressing on.
Refilled mug in hand, Grok waves for silence and continues. "Pretty decent crew, if'n ya ask ole Grok, knowwhatimsayin?" He looks around, getting appreciative nods from some in the crowd. "So we're here, ready to kick some ass, when the enemy player summons this creepy looking white robed bitch. She (at least I think it was a she, her head was all kinds of fucked up and stretched out to like a whole Grok in width.). She stands there for a sec, her head bleeding all over her white robes, and suddenly this cloud of the most foul smelling, rank stanch you have ever tasted comes wafting over us. Apparently this bitch hasn't bathed in like, years." Grok shudders at the memory.
"So anyway, this wave of stench kinda washes over us, and I notice that Betsy is getting kinda heavy. I'm thinking, no matter, I can still hit this creepy looking bitch with a heavy axe, all the more weight to bash her fucked up head in, right? Anyway, I take a step forward and kinda trip over my own feet. Not a big fall, mind, just kinda a hiccup in my natural rhythm. And you lady orcs know all about Groks natural rhythm, right ladies? Anyway, it's enough to make me stop and think for a sec. Betsy getting heavy, tripping over my own feet, coughing on this cloud of horrible stench. This bitches B.O. Has somehow lowered my strength!"
"So I glance around. Bob and the wizards have just dropped. I mean like fukkin rag dolls, mid-stride. All three of them are layin on the ground, that blue wizards arm thingy has even stopped smoking and sparking. The hill giants are still up, but they don't look any better than I feel. I'm starting to rethink this whole plan when the order to attack comes through. The two giants give me this look, like 'well, whatcha gonna do?' and we charged."
Grok hung his head. Now talking to the floor. But the entire bar had gone quiet, listening to his story, you could have heard a pin drop. In fact, you migh have, because some goblin trickster actually dropped one on purpose.
Grok continued. "So the three of us are charging across the field. Coughing and staggering, the creepy bitch steps in front of one of the hill giants and he just slams right into her, to no noticeable effect. But the worst part. The ABSOLUTE worst, most shameful part of this whole story is this. I got blocked. By a fucking. Llanowar. Elf."
"This little 1/1 mana producer steps up like he can handle me and Betsy. I'd be laughing if I wearn't coughing so hard. So I ready Betsy to cleave this little fucker in two. Without even breaking stride, I swing with everything I have. And this little pipsqueak catches Betsy by the blade. One handed."
"Let me repeat that. A Llanowar Elf. A little 1/1 manadork. Skinny as a beanpole and half as attractive. Caught. My. Axe. By. The. Blade."
"It was fucked up."
"So there I am, axe vibrating against the apparently iron skin of this dweeby manadork. I barely have time to think 'what the fuck?' before he balls up his tiny, ineffectual looking fist, and proceeds to punch a hole straight through my chest. I actually heard my heart land in the grass like ten feet behind me as I dropped Betsy and everything went dark." Grok drained his second ale and the bartender slid him another without a word.
"The last thing I hear, before giving up the ghost and poppin' in here with a lungful of that awful stench, is this creepy, silent hill reject laughing her oversized head off."
"Lemme tell ya." Grok finished, with solemn wisdom in his voice. "Don't ever mess with some lady named Elesh Norn (I heard the name when she was summoned). That bitch is TOXIC!"
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There you have it. I really enjoyed writing this stuff. So I'm going to write more of it in the future. For reference. Elesh Norn is a legendary white creature in Magic: The Gathering that gives all of your creatures +2/+2 and all of your opponents creatures -2/-2.
See ya'all tomorrow!
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