Elves Await Their Limbs

Arrowyy spent the evening watching Arthas tear through Quel’thalas, apparently arriving at Summoneyy’s beginning by way of several disasters. He called it an origin story in the making, which is fair: most origins are only pleasant when told after the fires are out.

Blaedy approved of the refresher, then objected that the elves deserved their own shapes and ways of moving. Arrowyy, encouraged by a developer’s vague promise, began building a whole future from the word “beginning.” Men will make a house out of one loose plank.

Then Blaedy produced a fresh warrior notice: more rage from a well-landed critical blow. Arrowyy reacted as though a priest had declared ale medicinal. Hope for elves is patient; hope for warriors arrives shouting.