Excerpt for The Dreamers: A Play of Playing by , available in its entirety at Smashwords



This is a read-only script to compliment the free machinima. No public or private performance rights are released with this script. World of Warcraft names, artifacts, and locations are Blizzard Entertainment property. Storyline dreamt by Mr. Bohemian.



Certain parts of canon lore were tastefully altered for this fan fiction.































Copyright © 2017 The Cotillion by Mr. Bohemian www.TheCotillion.dance All rights reserved. Select icons produced by Freekpik on flaticon.com Large illustrations produced by toonytoons @ fiverr.com





































































Stage 1

Level 1

Level 10

Level 20

Level 30



Stage 2

Level 40

Level 50

Level 60

Level 70



Stage 3

Level 80

Level 90

Level 100

Level 110



Stage 4

Level 120

Level 130

Level 140

Level 150



REM

Level 160

Level 170

Level 180

Level 190

Level 200





< The New Accord >

Puck

Peacebloom

Tick

Tock



< Memes For Life >

Sire Jenkins

Huntress Helena

Observer Oston

Cleric Clo



< Les Baes >

Effeminancer Emoish

Smuggler Smiley

Cutter Cutiekiss

Millhouse Manastorm



< The Twilight Terrors >

Yami

Grief

Durer



< The Guardians >

Alexstrasza

Victostrasz

Azuregos

Chromie

Ysera

Dishu



< The Game Masters >

Gnomestomper

Elfslicer

Orcpuncher

Trollbasher

Taurentipper



< The Whelps >

Kira Songshine, Presto Pete,

Tong, Tenzing, Pi, Po, Pu,

OmniPast, OmniPause, OmniPost,

Allegretos, Andantemu, Vivacimi,

Azshara, Servant, Mage, Drakonid,

Flargle, Gargle, Sid, Millicent Manastorm

Mimiron, Flower, Madam Goya,

Beebo, Millificent Manastorm,

Brewmaiden













***



( Curtain down. Moonglade music. )



Dishu: This was a world born in warcraft. Since her first seeds, she’s had to fight for her soil. The elemental lords, the hated unholies, both bound and banished to the ridges of reality. The universal Titans of stone and order moved her mountains and settled her seas. The Great Well churned; life sprang forth. Peace would come, and her children would name her: Azeroth.



Dishu: Never forgetting disorder’s conquest, the Titans built cities and constructs to safeguard and facilitate. The world’s soul was dreaming, and soon they had been content to let the mortals wake her up. Before balancing new planets, the Titan design was stamped to guide a growing world, the Dragonflights.



Dishu: Regrettably, there is not enough breath in my lungs to tell of the tales of dragonhood. From canon to rumor, history to huffery, it’s too much for one tongue at one time. Our lords have blessed as they have blasted, lost as they have lasted. Every conflict out of many has taken a piece from the Great Guardians. Like an aged parent to a growing child, they are tapered and exhausted through the miles of their mission. In the hour of cataclysm, The Wyrmrest Accord relinquished their most precious power: immortality, to rid the world of a bombast brother. In the calming calamity, they had become like their nurslings and entered their final years as mortal beings.



Dishu: My name is Dreamcatcher Dishu, shaman amongst the Cenarion Circle: a band of druids that walk with nature. It has been my quest to learn to walk with them. Though the elements show me their concord, the hymn of harmony is sung sweetest by my Lady’s closest kin. They walk within the Emerald Dream: a copy of Azeroth untouched by undoing. No forests have been cut here, no dams have been built, no grass has been stained. Every flourished flower has had her petals painted in the Dream. My Lady Ysera, Queen of the Green and Dreamer of the Dream, lead the land while the land lead her.



( Ysera screams offstage in torture. )



Dishu: But the cycle has been broken. Years past the day that Elune had shed her tear for the Greenmother, something gross grows in the garden. None of the other walkers can hear it.



( Ysera screams. )



Dishu: I had thought this agony to be left with the Legion, nullified with the Nightmare. What is this echo? Their rebirth I have imagined, but never could they reach us in the Golden Eye, less the Dream collapse and we along with it.



( Ysera screams. A beat )



Dishu: The family flights have met their ends, but could their dreams endure?



( Curtain up. Dishu moves upstage. Puck is sleeping. )



Dishu: Good morning, Prince Puck.



( A beat. Dishu prepares Puck’s room with breakfast and luggage. )



Dishu: Prince Puck?



( A beat. )



Dishu: Young Lord, I have set for you the bravest breakfast. Your dragonhawk dumplings are getting gunky.



( A beat. Articulated into his pillow. )



Puck: No.



Dishu: A dreamer’s end is morning’s making. Today is your journey to the waking world.



Puck: Does the waking world have dryads in dozens, ready with moonberry juice and savory sugarplums for me?



Dishu: Nothing at hand but the royal responsibilities of a new king.



Puck: Then goodnight, adieu.



( Dishu moves to the bed. He plants his staff between Puck and his mattress and levers him out of bed. )



( Down topples Puck. )



Puck: Okay!



( A beat. )



Puck: What is the reason for your servitude? None of the other druids can boil my tea. They couldn’t cast a fire spell without crying over the bark that burns.



( Dishu startles Puck by whacking his staff on nearby furniture. )



Puck: Okay!



( Puck begins his breakfast. )



Dishu: Only your servant, boy? In this duty, I have the fortitude of your father. Since you were an eggling have I been here for you. With my two hands did I spare you from the Nightmare clutch. In my two hands did you hatch from your egg. Have you no respect for your dreamcatcher, your life hatcher?



( A beat. )



Puck: I’m sorry, Master Dishu, I’m rough when ripped from reverie.



Dishu: Wake up, young king.



( A beat. )



Dishu: How are the dumplings?



Puck: Good.



( A beat. )



Dishu: I heard the fathomless scares of your mother again.



Puck: I’d say it’s the woes of veteran druids, filling the dreamscape with their marked memories.



Dishu: Most ferals left the Dream during the Nightmare War. You may know well that ferals don’t meditate.



Puck: They do, for the term is, “hi-ber-na-tion.”



( A beat. )



Dishu: I hear your mother’s voice of languish. The spirit she sought to hide you from.



Puck: No bloody beings beheld; a wisp can never lie. Where is this war but within your head?



Dishu: When on the relay to the sister flights we may know for sure. Is your wisp ready for Brown Azeroth?



Puck: The druids have tutored me to tears on her history. Death and decay with life and living sharing the same palette. The Well, the Portal, the pretties versus uglies: war and famine, pain and suffering, the birds and the bees, every blade of grass a lesson, etcetera.



( A beat. )



Dishu: Yes, that is reality in brief.



Puck: Reality? I thought this was reality.



Dishu: This is reality.



Puck: Then… why will I walk away from reality?



( A beat. )



Dishu: To grow up, young king.



( A beat. Dishu leaves the table. He retrieves the artifacts. Puck leaves the table to suit up. )



Dishu: Recite to me the red Queen’s name.



Puck: Alexstrasza, the Queen of Red and Holder of Heart.



Dishu: Refer to her as “Dragonqueen” to be suited in her court. Your mission is to question the Queen on any new threats that Brown Azeroth may be facing. Learn all that you can about what may be breaching our realm.



Puck: And then?



Dishu: With your return, we will walk through the kingship ceremony. In the Golden Eye, the Garden Gong has long been rung by the senior druids in your mother’s absence. In your righteous path will you ring the gong to bring a new day to the Great Garden. Your mother’s heirloom I bequeath onto you, [The Morning Mallet], infused with the first breath of a million mornings, may its power raise the flowers wherever you walk.



Puck: I am honored, Dreamcatcher, this journey will be a quick one.



Dishu: We shall see. Like the clouds to the plants, I will be nourishing you from afar. If ever you need my council, fall three drops of [Liquid Clarity] in any body of water. I will be in meditation, always at your call.



Puck: And what will the dryads bring for dinner?



Dishu: I’ll follow your optimism and welcome your return. To the Golden Eye we go, and I’ll put your body to bed.



Puck: Where will I awaken?



Dishu: From the Emerald Dragonshrine on the Northrend continent. Upon your feet, you will follow the path of the Titans. You will travel north until you reach the Wyrmrest Temple. Your first steps await you. Is the king ready?



Puck: Master Dishu, let us make like treants and leaf this hollow stump.



Dishu: Good king, adieu.



( Dishu and Puck exit. Curtain down. )



***



( Elwynn forest music. Players enter. )



Jenkins: Golden Goldshire, we are here. The trees are green, the grass is green: I can identify.



Helena: Sire, who plays a fantasy game and role-plays a human? Lead us to the ice cream parlor and you’ll ask for the most vanilla, vanilla.



Oston: And then we’ll decorate our mounts in the blandest beige.



Jenkins: Observer… are you sassing your guild master?



Oston: The Huntress was the first.



Jenkins: And yet you sass.



Oston: If then I did, Sire, poke us with this question, “gentlemen and lady, who started this quip?”.



Jenkins: Saucy… where did you equip the authority?



Oston: I can say of my rank, that I educate the tank and can foil a flank. You may be the leader of the lead, but I am the rallier of the raids, without which you would have no discretion, and, above all, no gear to swagger.



Jenkins: Fie, stingy words! ‘Least I have a spare leg o’ chicken.



( Jenkins unsheathes his drumstick. )



( Machinima: See Jenkins dress page for drumstick offhand. )



Helena: Save your leg, Sire, it’s time for a roster call.



Jenkins: Merry, what was the time since our last call?



Helena: Seven minutes.



Jenkins: Merry, in seven follow again.



Helena: Will be well, Sire.



Jenkins: Down the line, Huntress.



Helena: Sire Jenkins, Guild Master of the guild, < Memes For Life >. Guild rank: Top Meme.



Jenkins: That is correct, Huntress, that is correct.



Helena: Observer Oston, guild rank: Raid Counselor McMeme



Oston: Reporting in, m’lady.



Helena: Here I am, Huntress Helena, with guild rank: Secretary of Memes.



Jenkins: Earnestly earned, my lady.



Oston: Nobly noted, m’lady.



Clo: *pfft*



Helena: Conclusively, Cleric Clo, guild rank: Meme-atode



Oston: How much higher with a broken mic?



Jenkins: Clo, speak now or forever hold your rank as a lowly Meme-atode.



( A beat. Clo tries to fix his mic. He can only make the sound of blowing into it. )



Clo: *pfft*



Helena: We are four of four friends online.



Jenkins: Guild, what is our urgent e-mission?



Guild: To find the ultimate nostalgia!



Jenkins: What is nostalgia?



Guild: The dream of a better yesterday!



Jenkins: We chase the days behind us, in hopes that they’ll be in front of us…



( A beat. )



Clo: *pfft*



Oston: May I lead, Sire? I found us a quest for today.



Jenkins: Take the lead, McMeme.



Oston: The board here has a bounty in Westfall. The Jansen’s Stead is in need of spell and sword. The coastal murlocs are carrying away corn crops. All-you-can-eat Westfall stew is the available award.



Jenkins: That all-you-can-eat makes two quests. Let’s beat the bricks, memes. Secretary, will we be back in time for the gathering guilds?



Helena: At noon we’ll be if now we go, ere the Leviathan drive a mile.



( Exit players. )



***



( Curtain up to Wyrmrest Temple. Wyrmrest Temple music. Drakonid and Puck enter. Victostrasz from the other side. )



Drakonid: Lord Victostrasz, this greenling came from the Dragonshrine to the south. He solicits the Queen for a meeting.



Puck: Greenling?



Victostrasz: You know better than to pester the Queen with the woes of whelps. To the nursery with this one and return to your post.



( Drakonid exits. Victostrasz paces to exit. )



Puck: Whelp? I am the Green Prince, migrated from the Dream to beseech the Red Queen!



( A beat. )



Victostrasz: The Selene Son, arrived in Azeroth? Assuredly, you have an appointment?



Puck: Danger didn’t when he took my shaman’s peace.



( Alexstrasza enters. )



Victostrasz: Your royalty regarded, the Queen is still quarantined. Your meeting could be managed perhaps a week from now, if fortune favors her Majesty a tidy to-do list.



Alexstrasza: By the Titans, who is this handsome green?



( A beat. )



Victostrasz: My Majesty, are we maids now? Doing our duty about corridors wherever we may, speaking with whomever we may, about whatever we may?



Alexstrasza: Victostrasz, your attitude could use a rope. My duty’s sister brings her king, and you have left your courtesy? I heard his heart upon our burg, and yet you thought to hide him from me? No hearth given to this guest, as if not afoot in a dragon palace.



( A beat. )



Victostrasz: Never am I against you, My Majesty.



Alexstrasza: Nor I to you, my significant. Leave us to the top, and I will give this traveler my time. When our evening has ended, furnish his supplies and kindle his heart with some given trinkets.



Puck: Thank you, Dragonqueen.



Victostrasz: By your will, My Majesty; any requests from the prince?



Puck: Warm the smith, good monsieur, my claws could use a parring.



( Victostrasz exits. Puck and Alexstrasza move downstage. Curtain down. )



Alexstrasza: A friend of wit, you are that forest good fellow. I knew you well and first, even within your mother’s meditation. The tickling breeze bristled through the trees, that day the king was born. The thistleleaves danced a lily pad trance, that day the king was born. The birds had sung through chuckling lungs, that day the king was born. That trickiest of tempo that flutters the flowers, was yours when you were born.



Puck: I am that merry walker of the Dream. Are you the dawn of this dream?



Alexstrasza: In my mighty modesty, do I strive to be the queen of compassion. Simple is my care. I love this world and all who walk upon it. I hear every heartbeat, be it trogg or troll, cat or mouse. My lot is their leadership. Moving the mortals was easy enough through infancy. Worldly motherhood has since been smooth.



Puck: My Dragonqueen, if I may curiously query: the red position is intervention. Why have so many conflicts been let to bleed? Why not more mediating than meditating?



Alexstrasza: New king… this is a world of warcraft. Were we to step on every occasion my brood’d be buried yesterday. From lessers to greaters, greaters to lessers, the mortals matured to follow their fates. We reds have shifted to the last command, the skew against lawlessness, and the death day detractors. Were this world at her last breath, I would give my heart to save hers.



( Victostrasz entered. )



Victostrasz: My Majesty, Princess is equipped for the evening.



Alexstrasza: Bring her here to meet.



( Victostrasz exits. A beat. )



Puck: Kindest Queen of Hearts, can you hear my shaman’s beat? He believes a new force is breaching our realm. Surely something is making him mental.



( A beat. )



Alexstrasza: Your Dreamcatcher is a dignified spirit. I feel him now. He grounds the stirring that slithers to you. He meditates to dampen the dementia.



Puck: What?



Alexstrasza: Your mother had you insured long before the demon elf had planted a seed in her heart. Before the War, your shaman had been shown favor for his spirit purging ceremonies. His soul is a totem linked to yours; redirecting this pressing perplexia.



Puck: Is he mad?



Alexstrasza: Has he persevered in his preservation? Has he kept your thoughts an affluent forest?



( A beat. )



Puck: Where is this echo? How can I lift his heavy heart?



Alexstrasza: I cannot separate the specifics. I can only bring his burdens to bear. This disorder dances deeply.



( A beat. Victostrasz and Peacebloom enter. )



Victostrasz: My Majesty, the Princess of Red.



( Victostrasz exits. )



Alexstrasza: Prince Puck, this is my daughter. May we break to meet this moment?



Puck: I am yours in your court, Dragonqueen.



Alexstrasza: Princess, would you kindle introduce yourself to the new King of Green?



Peacebloom: My name is Princess Peacebloom. We are honored to have the Selene Son atop Wyrmrest Temple. I am your ready einhander, for you my shield and sword are [Flint] and [Steel]! Our journey is half journeyed with me at your back!



Puck: Journey?



Alexstrasza: Prince Puck, to you I dedicate my daughter for your mission. My last deed for my departed soul-sister.  



Puck: You knew this course?



Alexstrasza: I knew you well and first. My flower: she too is ready to bloom. Beginning this day, you both will seek to end the shrieks of your shaman’s mind shreds.



Puck: My Dragonqueen, I am thankful for your personal power, but I am only a healer. And where will we walk in this white desert?



Alexstrasza: As I have said, I cannot separate the specifics, but I can direct you to those who may. Our brothers of blue have disbanded, but someone is sure to be in charge of their Nexus. Seek out the Coldarra custodian, and they may supply the means to back-trace this magic madness.



Puck: Coldarra, that is west. Where through is the proper pass?



Peacebloom. Fly with me, Dreamer; I will show you the safest skies!



Puck: A served serendipity, how possible is this but by the Redmother?



Alexstrasza: Strong wings, young king, walk well in our world. I will be hearing you both from home.



Puck: Titans bless you twice, Great Heart of Hearts.



( Puck, Peacebloom, and Alexstrasza exit. )





***



( Curtain up. Elwynn Forest music. Enter memes. )



Jenkins: My final hypothesis is this: one cannot eat soup, for it is a liquid, but ridiculous to report that one is at the discretion of drinking. Ergo, we should formulate a new word: dreating. For when one consumes soup, they are considered to be eating while drinking at the same time.



Oston: That’s...not too bad, Sire.



Jenkins: What ceremony? Nobody is here.



Oston: Perhaps, we are the first. What does the pamphlet say, Helena?



( Enter Kira. )



Helena: “Meme-Con, 2027, Ask the Omnironics! Ritual sacrifices begin in Goldshire Square at noon, October third through October fifth.”



Oston: No others are ready for the ritual.



Jenkins: Look, she made it!



Helena: Sire, that’s no one but Kira Songshine, the Elwynn Forest bread vendor.



Jenkins: Hello! Are you here for the Omnironics too?



Kira: Hello, I supply only the finest goods!



Jenkins: Oh, wow.



Oston: I have tested your bread, temptress. Against my health pool, it would take approximately two days, sixteen hours, thirty-seven minutes, and forty seconds of back to back stuffing to saturate my stats with your loathly low level loaves.



( A beat. )



Kira: Fresh bread for sale!



( Kira exits. )



Jenkins: Ouch, Oston; he loses the ladies with his numbers.



( Enter < Les Baes >. )



Oston: How null with my numbers?



Helena: Numbers are not always the nemesis, Oston. Having that high arena ranking may sway some swans to swoon.



Emoish: Gentlemen, can you confirm with me that this is Goldshire? Most of us are Horde-borne and have trouble with the particulars of this side of the Eastern Kingdoms.



Jenkins: In Goldshire you stand, my lady. May then I mention, what an honor it is to dance with the Horde on the same mailbox. The “Make Love Not Warcraft” expansion of two thousand nineteen was my favorite cultural cleansing.



Emoish: That year I had a desperate downturn in soul shards, but yay. For now we do frolic hand in hand under the same dullened rainbow.



Jenkins: Yes mam, shadows shroud the Banshee Queen.



Emoish: And let light lead your boy king. Are you here for the ritual sacrifice?



Jenkins: On standby for sacrifice, we are < Memes For Life >. We come from the realm of two thousand seven. Through all sixteen expansions, we’ve been on quests, questing for the Great Quest. My lasting lieutenant is here: Cleric Clo. When my heart had heart, we were chill in church, purging the Plaguelands by Light’s Hope Chapel. By benevolence, he bears the [Benediction Reborn: Staff of a Thousand Wipes].



( The champions display their weapons when announced. )



Clo: *pfft*



Jenkins: Now careful with Clo, before his blessings he walked a ruder road. Cross our cleric and you may see [Anathema Arisen: Staff of a Thousand Ganks]. Having stolen the arena, this night-shadow was never nerfed.



Clo: *pfft*



Oston: Next hero in our history is the Huntress Helena. An astounding archer from the Astranaar Army.



Helena: Elune-adore, I have harnessed her [Heaven’s Bent]. No fiends fly through me, no gargoyle given skies, no daemons defile ground, every true-shot’s ‘tween the eyes!



( A beat. )



Emoish: Elune… is that the one who fortifies those water fountains?



Helena: What, the moonwells, witch?



Jenkins: Ladies, ladies.



Oston: Sire Jenkins, a notable necrolyte, he was vexing when he was alive. Always pulling out of place. That trait proved tragic atop Icecrown’s Citadel. In initiation his guild had gone, regretting repeatedly their ridiculous repairs. Alone he pulled, and alone he perished. The Lich Lord laughed, this proclamation he put; “You. You will be my fool.” “You will raise me memes to the unlife, and in my kingdom they will have no end.” “No matter the date, nor degree, nor irony, along my nightmare they will walk.” “My Memecromancer, you are unborn.” T’was the day the paladin became a death knight, charged [The Arcanite Reaper] to unend his unmemes.



Emoish: What about you, Worgen? House Greymane or House Battleborn?



Jenkins: The guild needed a raid counselor. We posted for a raid counselor. We received a raid counselor. The Observer observes with [The Dungeon Journal]. Now ladies, what place did you pamper from?



Oston: Wow, Sire.



( A beat. )



Emoish: An interesting ensemble. May we give ourselves as such. We are the four of < Les Baes >. Here we have Smiley the Smuggler. When she was a sophomore at Eversong High, her parents were sunk while sailing at sea. It was the trouble of Captain Rusty, The Robotic Pirate Squirrel who scurries his squabblers across The Great Sea. This cheerless cheerleader gathered her poms, [Wam] and [Bam], and headed from home. Through our Cleft of Shadow communion will her parents’ vengeance be met.



Helena: Careful with that Cleft, it’s the one wing where the Sunwell won’t shine.



Emoish: Here now is Cutter Cutiekiss, Sen’jin’s frontline warforged warrior. Beforehand a humble house wife, merrily, with a treehut. Infidelity rocked the cradle, caught her troll snogging a murloc. By Orgrimmar law, could she chop her husband in the Ring of Valor. Her weapon is no armament but her lover’s pieces. With violating voodoo does she wield [The Randomizer].



Helena: Holy heaven.



Jenkins: Oh, wow.



Oston: Where have you been, blood elf?



Emoish: I am Emoish the Effeminancer, Madam of my Baes, veteran of the Outland Legion. Flourished in the Durotar common space, my guild aged as well through sixteen expansions.



Oston: Didn’t you mention four in your crowd?



( Enter Millhouse. )



Emoish: Should I estimate three and a half, I’d be precise.



( Millhouse struggles with many rolling carry-ons. )



Millhouse: Ladies, perhaps the postmaster could carry some cases?



Cutiekiss: Negative, gnome, we would be too far from our fashions to quest comfortably. We adventure a-la-mode.



Emoish: You play a pivotal role in keeping us kept, keep keeper.



Millhouse: I am very excited to be with you, ladies. This luggage is only as sweating as my Armageddon fever!



Cutiekiss: May I punt the runt, Madam? He would land in Quel’thalas from here.



Emoish: Patience, Axe-Master, the little serpent is earning his Baehood.



Oston: Is that the Doom-Dinger, Millhouse Manastorm?



Millhouse: Verily, I am that day of DOOM!



Oston: Last I studied, you were spotted in the Chocolate Expansion, during the Coco-chip encounter, at the behest the Chaps of Chocolate.



Millhouse: Many a cult I have experimented, from Twilight to Scourge, Legion to Chocolate; none at all fatal by the end of their ropes. In a drought, I scrounged for a scoop of doom, deprived of devil doings, derailed from my destiny. In the unspired wing of the Cleft of Shadow, I saw these Baes in brunch, dialoging delicately upon a coffee and crepe combo.



Emoish: Of Silvermoon origin, our roster requisites are casual vindication upon casual vanity. He had heart, but not “The Bae.”



( Emoish unsheaths her contract. )



Emoish: We had preserved the parameters of “Bae” and reserved our rights to reject. For fie, my imp had errored in the deepest derivation of the critical condition. Page six, section six, paragraph six, “The ‘Bae’ word’s worth, is a combination of the qualifiers, ‘cute’ and ‘petit.’” Gnomes, by diabolical duplicity, qualify these qualifiers and alas, Millhouse.



Millhouse: Oh buttons, you say I’m Bae, Madam?



Cutiekiss: Never Bae in my book, never Bae in a day.



Emoish: Give heart, Lady Lacerate, for anyone who can counter a warlock’s contract is either sent to The Nether in ashes… or given a waived application.



( Kazoos play. The Omnironics enter. More ensemble characters crowd the scene. A beat. ).



OmniPast: Across the Internet, we have been, we are, and we will be, Omnironic. All Internet flows through us. Since the beginning boot we’ve been the Benevolent Modems. In these rituals, we bring our power to the players. Make yourselves known to us; to you we'll vest our vision. Who of heroes will forward first?



Jenkins: < Memes For Life > steps to, Noble Neckbeards. What would you have from us?



( OmniPast retires. OmniPost steps forth. A beat. )



OmniPost: Leeroy Jenkins, the Bane of Blackrock Mountain. My bandwidth had bounced the day you went viral. Back to these badlands, I will charge you. With level sixty swords you will quest with. Retro-raiding on a black dragon, Pyromus of Thisforge, his head hesitant to split. He irks the Blackrocks with loudly flapping while locals lay napping. No local government has either offered to fit them with soundproof windows. This then done, I will reward you well.



Jenkins: Noisy newt, we will chase your challenge! On foot, we’ll follow to Lakeshire, then through the pass we’ll pass. Memes, let’s go; ladies, stay pretty.



Helena: Keep your eyes on the minimap, Sire.



( Memes exit. OmniPost retires, OmniPause steps forth. A beat. )



OmniPause: This guild gathered is < Les Baes >, is it not?



Emoish: Never in ignorance, O’ Omnirific.



OmniPause: Effeminancer, I’ve seen your means. Far from your first sacrifice.



Cutiekiss: Merely a Monday for Madam.



OmniPause: No beginners in brawl, no newbies by night, in the shadows you will serve me, in return you’ll see my sight. [The Outlawed Eclair] was the first food powdered and packed with Kel’thuzad’s plague. It has since traveled by Bronzebeard boat to Darkmoon novelty. The ship was seized, the crew fed to Azshara, the sweet then sold to Madam Goya. Bid, buyout, or pin the Pandaren black market. Then pass to me the popular pastry.



Emoish: I know where the black mist blows. We will grace the Madam with a visit. Baes, we go.



( OmniPause steps back. Baes exit. A beat. )



OmniPast: These players have e-spirit, but do they possess the gigabytes to bear the burdens ahead of them?



OmniPost: They will send themselves to success; they all will. Presently, I perceive it.



( Kazoos play. Omnis exit. Curtain down. )



( End of Stage 1. )













***



( Curtain down. Coldarra music. Puck and Peacebloom enter. )



Puck: Dragonqueen, may I ask: why do you walk in the form of a blood elf?



Peacebloom: The high elves are a forgiven race. They were my first lesson in mortal flux. From Kaldorei to Sin’dorei, their history is an unending undulation. In their coldest clutches, they found themselves fetished with fel. Though neglecting the naaru, they were still were shown mercy, and now the sun shines in Silvermoon City. Why do you keep the Kaldorei costume?



Puck: I envy the ears, sideways and swift. But really, the eldest druids that walk the Dream are night elven kin. The children of the stars make for excellent dreamers. To this day, Elune continues to kiss their conscience.



( A beat. )



Peacebloom: The Arcane Augmenter was killed in these halls. The blue flight no longer carries the currents here. Be on your guard.



( Curtain up. Nexus music. A beat. Azuregos is painting a portrait. )



Peacebloom: Dragonflights?! Any blues on board here?!



Azuregos: Yes, ma’am, there is no need to holler through these halls.



Puck: Greetings, we are the dragons of the New Accord.



Azuregos: Ah, yes, more problems. The Accord is perpetually pitching for volunteers. Now door-to-door soliciting is the song of their plight?



Peacebloom: Are you the only frost drake attending to Coldarra’s state of magic?



Azuregos: I water the trees in the Singing Grove too. The crystalline garden is so beautiful this time of year.



Puck: What blooms here? It’s always cold in Coldarra.



Azuregos: Isn’t it dreadful?



Peacebloom: Big Blue, we’re trying to trace a treacherous magic. Can you aid us?



Azuregos: Magical mischief, why not knock the Kirin Tor door? They call themselves the mighty magocracy. I’m only a blue dragon. I’ve only been studying the stupendous many a millennium before their Wizardopolis was crushed like a sand castle. And then they have the head to come here and negate the Nexus in exchange for a sip of its saturate. It’s like an alcoholic taming a temperance group in exchange for a jug of wine.



Puck: How long have you been dipping in this dripping dungeon?



Azuregos: Longer than I’d like, little lizard.



Peacebloom: Leyweaver, what is that divine instrument in your claw? Your brush pulls from one pigment, but your portrait is a palette.



Azuregos: When I had found myself babysitting this icebox, I began opening the archives the ethereal thieves could not crack. Tomes of infinite vision, weapons of mass destruction, and crystals of infinite energy are such a casual collection here. The Master seemed to mix the monotony with a toy, [The Arcane Envoy], a delightful dipstick. A brush that paints with the power of planetary alignment.



Puck: Envoy, why is the brush an envoy?



Azuregos: The picture painter is a dedicated deliverer. He will stop at nothing to incarnate his dreams. The arcane is a peculiar pigment. Epochs before the Kirin Tor could finger paint, we blues were signing a masterpiece. The Arcanomicon ( are-cah-kno-mi-con ) is the artifact you need.



( Azuregos moves to the Arcanomicon. )



Azuregos: Azerothian Magic 101: arcane is a dynamic energy. Holy magic; shadow magic; frost magic; fire magic; all conversions of the arcane matrix. Arcane energy flows through the planet as blood flows through your veins or as lava flows through the crust. In some areas, these vitality vessels are thicker, crossed, or combined, hence the Nexus. The Arcanomicon is a map of this world’s energy rivers. Shadow magic is deceptive by its nature, but as long as it draws mana, I can pinpoint its location.



Puck: Thank you, Leyweaver.



Azuregos: No thanks yet, little lizards. I’m not going to boot the boy up until I’m served in return.



Puck: Is there left no urgency to uphold your fellow flight? Where is the giving the Great Guardians were gifted?



Azuregos: Deliberating your doorbelling instead of arming my wards was gift enough. I am to bow down to the red, to the green, to the bronze, and let them leave with half my furniture with the kiss of goodwill to do by?



Peacebloom: A fair trade to know our enemy. We will meet your means, Leyweaver. What will you want from us?



Azuregos: Though I despise those woeful wizards of the hubris habitat, Dalaran, their marketplace of magic makes reagent collection many leagues less in legwork. Here is my shopping list.



( Azuregos hands his rolled list to Puck. A beat. )



Puck: What about gold?



Azuregos: I trust you aspiring young aristocrats have a royal trust fund to access.



Peacebloom: My brood will bear the balance. There will be no doubt in debts for now.



Azuregos: Here’s a tip for your war task. If you wish to doorbell the bronze, you may do so in short time through the Dalaran portal room. This will save your campaign time. The mortals see it safe to maintain many portals in close proximity. This, as if the orcs of Dreanor have no cautionary comments about unwinding reality for commutable convenience.



Peacebloom: An excellent step, Puck. The bronze have always had something to spare in dragon relations.



Puck: Any addition to our coalition is good, let’s go.



Azuregoes: A word of warning regarding the bronze. Time is a troubling magic. Though chrono-casting is a simple stream of arcane, the Titans were wise to team a troupe for time-turning. In your days, you will never meet a dragon quite like a bronze dragon. All I may attribute, they are approximate in the mind, but precise in their work. Never long wonder their wits, lest you find yourself sunk in the sand.



Peacebloom: Our heads are well-heeded. Your shopping will be done.



Puck: Big Blue, adieu.



( Puck and Peacebloom exit. Curtain down. )



***



( < Les Baes > enter downstage in evening dresses. )



Emoish: We have arrived, Baes. This tavern in the mists is where the pandas profit.



Millhouse: Madam, may I ask, are ladies suicidal when they wear high heels? The ankle snapping and body twisting is real.



Emoish: Yours are extra high, Millhouse, your bra extra stuffed, and your other lady lackings extra compensated. These callused men hold a high standard for evening entertainment. We will serve them our mainland motherhood to bring out the eclair.



Millhouse: Anything for doom, Madam. Anything for doom.



Cutiekiss: Can we review our routine once more?



Emoish: We will be incognito, whether the Madam is in or out.  The girls, and Millhouse, will play with the boys. I will find for myself the alpha boy. I will get what I need and finish the party. After the cue, swab the deck and keep them in a stunlock.



Cutiekiss: How much tussle tonight?



Emoish: I have for us a treat, not a nail will be broken. I was under the Undercity when I picked the potent patent of [Putress’ Procaine]. I need soul shards tonight. Just remember Smiley’s stunlock routine and we’ll leave the rest to Sargeras.



Cutiekiss: Thanks to you, Madam, our mani-pedis will continue to glow with the glory of the Warchief.



Emoish: Baes, let’s go play.



( Curtain up. Pandaren tavern music. The attention turns to < Les Baes >. )



Tong: Ahoy, boys, the mainland ship is in! Ladies linger the lounge!



( The ensemble of pandas cheer. )



Emoish: Good afternoon, gentlemen. < Les Baes > are here with the pleasure to pleasure. The Pandaren are as majestic as they are mighty. We mainlanders are very charmed by your powerful paws, magnificent mountains, and southern serenades. Which son of Shaohao will show us his tradition?



( Pi slams his drink on the counter. )



Pi: Me!



( The pandas playfully fight for first. A beat. )



Emoish: The rambunctious boy gets the girl. Prettier than all the petals in the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, I give to you my splendiferous Spring.



( Emoish introduces Smiley to Pi. )



Emoish: A playful pyromancer, she will melt the ice quickly. Let not your pipe be the only spirit lit this evening.



( Pi takes Smiley to a table. )



Emoish: Who is the most sober panda in this zoo?



( The pandas playfully fight. A beat. )



Pu: I am the cheerful chastity of every lorewalker of every library!



Emoish: A sickly soul, I have your prescription writ. Let my witch doctor mix your mind with her masterful mixology. My spicy Summer will sprinkle your spirit with her vials of voodoo.



Cutiekiss: I’ll be showing you why trolls are flipping out. Ever taste a troll’s mojito?



Pu: I’ve dreamt a troll’s dream once. Do you stir with psychedelic syrups?



( A beat. )



Cutiekiss: We will taste the voodoo.



( Cutiekiss takes a mix kit to her table with Pu. )



Emoish: Who in this bar is the unluckiest lad? We have the season for your serendipity.



Tong: That’s Po! Bring him in, boys!



Ensemble: Po, Po, Po, Po, Po, Po!



( The pandas bring out Po. )



Emoish: Bring your pencil and paper, this class is now in session. When the Fall comes in, so does her schooling. She is here to give you her gracious guidance. An astounding astrologist, she will show you her stars.



Millhouse: The Eye of Algalon is Azeroth’s clearest constellation! Some say the Titans still watch us through the starry sight!



Po: Oh, wow.



( Po takes Millhouse to his table. A beat. )



Ensemble: What about Winter? Where is Winter?



Emoish: I am that warm Winter, that seasoned season, but I do not entrance the entourage. Who is the master who will teach the student to meditate?



Tenzing: I am the senior, and you are the seraph.



( The ensemble groans in disappointment. Tenzing takes Emoish to his table. )



Tenzing: Tong, play a piece the wind serpents would whistle.



( Tong plays a pandaren tavern track. )



Tenzing: My name is Master Tenzing, shadow of the Shado-Pan. I will be your knight in the night. How fast are your drinks?



Emoish: Soberly sorry, my doctor says not to drink while on her medications.



( Cutekiss serves them their drinks. )



Emoish: Thank you, doctor.



Tenzing: The mainland always mesmerizes me. You are a “blood elf,” no?



Emoish: Since our Prince’s perilous pilgrimage.



Tenzing: The historians say your race plays foul for fun.



Emoish: Sucking on a few fel crystals to dampen our domestic life, the story is mostly misinterpreted. Most want to say we’ve always preferred fel crystals over a morning coffee. The times did, however, give my magic a new page in her research.



Tenzing: How filled are your pretty pages?



Emoish: I love demons. I love to study them. I’m a master demonologist.



Tenzing: Oh, what’s your dictate on those devilish dancers?



Emoish: Demons are very misbehaved.



Tenzing: Do you any demon blood?



Emoish: I may sling a spell or two without serious side effects. A smooth cigarette keeps all my kinks creased.



Tenzing: Will you share a smoke with me?



Emoish: Merrily, Spring grew for me the tastiest tobacco.



( Emoish packs a pipe. )



Emoish: Tell me about yourself. How late will you wake tomorrow?



Tenzing: At dawn, I shield for the Shado-Pan and at night, I’m here for Madam Goya.



Emoish: I hate the knocking of neighbors. Could we quest somewhere else?



Tenzing: I have the comforts for all your cankers, but this bar is where I sleep tonight.



Emoish: Your lady won’t let you leave?



Tenzing: I cannot part from my post.



Emoish: Fair for a fun night. I have a special spectacle for you. My lighter plays a parlor trick to cast well a dragon’s plume.



( Emoish pulls [The Soulstone] from her satchel. )



Emoish: Your pipe is packed. This orb is a fire starter. Twist your wrist to follow a flame brighter than the hate of Ragnaros.



( Emoish hands Tenzing the pipe and [The Soulstone]. A beat. )



Tenzing: It’s not working.



Emoish: Flick your wrists faster.



( A beat. )



Tenzing: The lighter is lightless.



Emoish: Perhaps the fuel has foiled? The smell is silent, could you sniff the sphere and sense if it’s seeped?



( Tenzing smells [The Soulstone] layered in [Putress’ Procaine]. He faceplants the table. )



( A beat. )



Tong: It’s a trap!



Pu: Witch!



( The ensemble stampedes out of the bar. < Les Baes > hold their men with the stunlock routine. A beat. )



Emoish: Beautiful Baes, the quest is complete. The Madam’s treasures are in the tavern.



( Emoish moves to Cutiekiss. )



Emoish: Was this gentleman well behaved, Lady Lacerate?



Cutiekiss: Very virtuous, Madam, this harvest is a heavy soul shard.



Pu: No!



Emoish: Give the good man a kiss goodnight.



( Cutiekiss gives her guest a peck on the cheek. Emoish holds [The Soulstone] to Pu’s nose. He collapses. )



Pi: Pu, no! Wretched witch, sha-kissing shadowmancer, I’ll cut your ears off and shove them through your maliced mouth, you sin-sucker, you languish-licker!



( Smiley covers Pi’s mouth. )



Emoish: This one has a big mouth. Let him speak to the Madam of our tenacious team. Panda, run to your leasher and tell your master < Les Baes > sends the Madam their kindest courtesies. Let her know the girls are borrowing the boys, and that their souls will find their bodies when we’re bored of them. Kiss the good man goodnight, Smiley.



( Smiley kisses Pi on the cheek, then releases him. Pi dashes to exit. )



Cutiekiss: Madam, your love is too leveraging. He called you a sin-sucking languish-lover, and now he steps unscathed?



Emoish: The gentleman was rather rude. Smiley, snipe his ankles with your pistol.



( Smiley quickly unsheathes her pistol and aims at Pi offstage. She shoots. )



( From offstage, Pi screams in a burst of pain. < Les Baes > clap for Smiley. )



Emoish: Always a sharp shot, Smuggler.



Cutiekiss: Millhouse held well with a paralyzing spell.



Emoish: Magnifique, Millhouse. Let your spell be undone.



( A beat. )



Millhouse: I’m not casting a spell, Madam.



Po: The twinkle in her eyes contain the luminosity of all the stars of The Twisting Nether strung together. Her feminine grace is a great gravity that holds my heart in her orbit.



( A beat. )



Emoish: The honor is yours, Millhouse, harness [The Soulstone].



Millhouse: Sorry, babe, but the talky-talk of the studio apartment in Stormwind… ‘twas a feign. For the Fall you fell for was no fall at all. For it was me, Millhouse Manastorm, the whole time!



( Smiley and Cutiekiss hold Po still. )



Po: But, you had said this fever was forever, Fall. You told me forever!



( A beat. )



Millhouse: I lied to get what I want.



( Millhouse puts [The Soulstone] to Po’s nose. Po collapses. )



( A beat. )



Cutekiss: Madam, did you see how quickly the little serpent swallowed the man’s soul?



Emoish: Indeed, Millhouse, thoroughly and thoughtfully, you are now and here forward, a Bae.



Millhouse: Hurray!



Emoish: We will see to a ceremony for later. [The Outlawed Eclair] is tucked away in this tavern. Smiley, check upstairs; Cutiekiss, check downstairs; Millhouse, check the Jacuzzi.



( < Les Baes > search the tavern. Emoish cleans up the bar and helps the corpses sleep with comfort. )



( A beat. )



Emoish: Rest well, handsome husks, I am the goodly warlock. I’ll put your bodies to bed. I’ll handle your hearts with care. I’ll kiss the daemons from your dreams, and mend my marks of incantation. If Madam ponders the party we shared, you’ll smile softly and tell her this kindly.



( Emoish takes a toke from her pipe. )



Emoish: “Wrought from wit and wrought with wonder, I took a drag that dragged my heart away. Though that wicked witch had stolen my soul, that warm Winter was quite the holiday”.



( A beat. < Les Baes > return. )



Cutiekiss: Madam, Smiley found the pastries’ chest downstairs. It looks like an easy lock pick.



Emoish: Keep it in the chest. I see we’re packing other treasures to the amount that Millhouse can carry.



Millhouse: Madam, when may I graduate from this drudgery?



Emoish: We will always need a keep keeper, keep keeper.



Millhouse: Oh, buttons.



Cutiekiss: Madam Goya will surely mark us for death for stealing her soldiers and shinies.



Emoish: When the boys come to us, half the work is done. My soul shard satchel is never satisfied. Baes, we go.



( < Les Baes exit >. Curtain down. )



***



( Main lights dim, stage lights leak random colors at random times across the stage. Caverns of Time music. Enter dragons. )



Puck: The Caverns of Time... the entrance was astounding. Did I see an elven boat on desert dunes?



( The ensemble as bronze dragons march across the stage at various speeds. They carry various props to and from offstage. )



Peacebloom: Lonely and lost, encrusted in the trickles of Tanaris.



( A beat. )



Puck: What are they doing?



( Enter Chromie with a tablet. )



Peacebloom: This cavern is sequestered from time and space. We will do well to follow the flow of the timewalkers. They’re the ones with the mental map of this great maze.



Chromie: Allegretos, the prince and princess entered on cue. Why haven’t the Maestros crossed the stage yet?



Allegretos: I will beckon them backstage.



( Allegretos power walks to exit. )



Chromie: Vivacimi, your costume is incorrect. There are no humans in Kalimdor during your performance. Get thee into a night elf costume!



Vivacimi: Sorry, Chromie!



( Vivacimi skips to exit. )



Chromie: Andantemu, can you hasten your pace? The Lich King’s performance needs more ice. If the Lich King doesn’t have more ice, he doesn’t become Lich King! It’s as simple as that, dragons!



Andantemu: It will be done… in time.



( Andantemu walks to exit. The Maestros enter from both sides of the stage at the same time. Tick carries a medium sized rock while Tock carries a cardboard bush. )



Puck: They’re helping the Lich King?



Peacebloom: No, merely keeping him on time.



Chromie: Maestros, house opens in one minute. [The Tablet of Time] says you have thirty seconds to rehearse, then thirty seconds to set the scene. Take these players and go!



( Chromie paces to exit. )



Chromie: Now who moved my water bottle? It’s not a prop!



( A beat. )



Tick: Prince and Princess,



Tock: Welcome, to the Concert of Time!



Tick: I’m Maestro Tick!



Tock: And I’m Maestro Tock!



Tick: We are the plural performers-



Tock: -Of the Great Nozdormu’s nobility.



Tick: We have no seconds to waste.



Tock: We have no seconds at all.



Tick: Time is rather timeless here.



Tock: But time is always timeless here.



Tick: [The Tablet of Time] introduced your entrance already.



Tock: We understand you came with a cause. All your troubles will be toiled.



Tick: On time.



Tock: [The Tablet of Time] narrates that you will be a part of our next performance.



Tick: Off time.



Tock: For we are the Great Farce Fixers, the Concerto Conductors.



( Curtain up. Zin-Azshari music. There is a garden scene with a bench on stage left. )



Tick: Uh oh, rehearsal is over. Do you understand what to do?



Puck: I’m nervous.



Tock: That’s normal.



Tick: That’s natural.



Tock: Stand with me behind the bush, dragons. Tick will finish setting the mise-en-scene.



( Tick tries to find the best location for the rock on stage right. )



Peacebloom: Where are we?



Tock: In fair Zin-Azshari we set our stage. Queen Azshara is set to enjoy a typical evening in her garden. [The Tablet of Time] has told us a rogue mage is using unlicensed chrono magic to assassinate the Vainglory. This stunt will ruin the show, and we cannot let it go live.



Peacebloom: What about us? What do we do?



Tock: Act natural, for theater is the art of living. What will come will come, or else we’ll have to set the stage again.



( Tick retreats behind the cardboard bush. )



Tick: Ready.



Tock: The Lady that sitteth upon many waters, is cued to come in 3...2…1…



( Queen Azshara enters stage right. A beat. )



Azshara: Who put this rock here?



( She walks around the rock. She sits on her bench and grooms herself. A beat. )



( Servant enters stage right. A beat. )



Servant: Who put this rock here?



( Servant walks around the rock. He tends to the queen. )



Servant: O’ Queen of Queens, I have for you the most delectable dish. A bounty of buffalo wings, with ranch sauce for dipping, and cool carrots for crunching.



Azshara: Merry, I will be merry. Leave me to my legs.



Servant: O’ Light of Lights, is anything your wish under Elune’s luminous lantern?



( A beat. )



Azshara: How long has it been since my last selfie?



Servant: Seven minutes, O’ Charm of Charms.



Azshara: My fancy fancies another fancy of my fancy. Go pay the painter.



Servant: O’ Mage of Mages, your painter has packed. He’s home with his heritage, far from his family for weeks, being onboard his divine duty.



Azshara: The painter will report to his post, lest I flush his family down the Well and have him paint a portrait of it. You will tell him this.



Servant: O’ Face of Elune, your charisma will be captured!



( Servant exits stage right. )



Peacebloom: Gullibility is the steward of self-love.



Puck: When will we meet the troubling mage?



Tock: The timeline tap dancer is cued to come in 3...2…1…



( Enter Mage stage right. )



Mage: Your time is up, O’ Noble Narcissist! The world will not split for your stupidity! My dagger alone will deliver you to the devils you desire!



( The mage lunges. He trips over the rock. The drakonid guard catches up to him. )



Mage: No, no, I’m from the future! She’s going to kill the world, NO!



( Servant runs back to his queen. )



Azshara: Amateur.



Servant: My Queen, is My Highness hurt?



Azshara: Not hurt, but hungry, these botherings are blocking me from my buffalos. I’ll send myself inside to savor my sodium. There the latches may lock and the guards may guard.



Servant: Another perfect plan, My Highness. We’ll rescan the Royal Garden. Never again will Your Daintiness be in danger.



Azshara: You have said so for yesterday’s assassin. Soon enough, one of our heads will split.



( They exit stage right. A beat. )



Peacebloom: And then they lived happily ever after?



Tick: Yes mam, Queen Azshara will go on to dance with demons, wage wars, incinerate innocents, sink civilizations, and crack the continent.



Puck: Look there, at the Queen’s feet; there grows a peculiar plant.



( A beat. )



Puck: Her name is Love-In-Idleness. A pansy pierced by Peddlefeet’s punctuation of infatuation.



( Puck picks the plant. )



Tick: The green drake plucked his petals.



Tock: Our pastly performance is presently perfetto.



Tick: Come, let us make our exeunt from this epoch.



( The dragons move downstage. Curtain down. The bronze dragons and Chromie enter to clap. Tick and Tock bow. )



Tick: Thank you!



Tock: Thank you!



Tick: We couldn’t have done it without our spare players!



Tock: For whom which there are no small parts.



Tick: Only small paychecks.



( The bronze dragons clap again. )



Chromie: Clear the stage, dragons. Next curtain clear is in one minute!



( The bronze exit. )



Chromie: A brief word, boys.  [The Tablet of Time] tells us your Azshara performance is clean and clear. The green drake will keep his flower. Your next dream will be dreamt with these players. Your next scene is set on the streets of Dalaran, shopping sundries for the blue drake.



Tick: What of your fine fellows off the clock, Director?



Chromie: Leave it to me, Princes, we will be ready and rehearsed for your return. Next month will be Illidan season.



Tock: Oh good, I’m done to death with Azshara shows.



Chromie: Hasten your pace, curtain clears in 30 seconds!



( Chromie exits. )



Tick: Where to first, teammates?



( A beat. )



Peacebloom: The streets of Dalaran, where we will shop sundries for the blue drake.



Tock: The tablet knew, knows, and will know. We exeunt!



( Tick and Tock exit. A beat. )



Peacebloom: The Big Blue could not have been bolder in his warning of these weary whimsicals.



Puck: Get with the times, Dragonqueen, for our exeunt was written in the script. Timewalkers, adieu.



( The dragons exit. )







***



( Curtain up. Elwynn Forest music. The Memes are hanging around Goldshire. )



Jenkins: And then I said, “Why dost thou name him Invincible, if thine eyes can clearly set upon him?” Then my mimicked moronicism jarred the generation of authentic moronicisms.



Oston: Do not feed the troll.



Helena: Isn’t that correct, Clo?



Clo: *pfft*



( Entered < Les Baes >. )



Helena: Here come the Hordeborne.



Emoish: < Memes For Life >, have the Omnis been back through?



Jenkins: None so far, Madam Bae. We’re tapping the time away.



Emoish: How was your hunt for the black dragon?



Jenkins: It was quite the quest. Pyromus, the lava loving lizard, keeps the thermostat thumping in his Thisforge cubby. He was paranoid of players who would come for the kill, so he would flee in flight with fighters in sight. We came back in camouflage to get close to the great snake. We disguised Clo, as a wall, and our coalition had hid behind this partition. For dragons have no such ability to see through walls.



Emoish: Of course.



Oston: Once we were close, Helena sent sailing a snare shot, and the rest was raided. The dps were well dps’ed, dps.



Helena: The tank was well tanked, tank.



Jenkin: The heals were well healed, heals.



Clo: *pfft* *pfft*, *pfft*.



Emoish: The wall was well walled, wall.



( Kazoos play. The Omnis enter. )



( OmniPast steps forward. A beat. )



OmniPast: Across the Internet, we have been, we are, and we will be, Omnironic. All Internet flows through us. Since the beginning boot we’ve been the Benevolent Modems. In these rituals we bring our power to the players. Make yourselves known to us; to you we’ll vest our vision. Who of you heroes have merits in their mission?



Jenkins: Ladies first, < Les Baes >.



( A beat. OmniPause steps forward. )



OmniPause: I see you, < Les Baes >.



Emoish: Omnirific, your request is complete. We have presented Kel’thuzad’s killer confection, [The Outlawed Eclair].



( Smiley lays down the chest. A beat. )



OmniPause: The Internet is pleased. I am the Omni of all memes present. I perceive the most popular memes across pop culture. Through my thoughts, they are archived for all eternity. Effeminancer, your guild has earned the right of recordance, and may be included in my great Menagerie of Meymeys. Who of you are dank enough to represent your council across time?



Emoish: We elect Millhouse to represent our micro memory.



Millhouse: Madam, I’m shook. First doom, now this?



OmniPause: Step forward, Millhouse Manastorm.



( A beat. Stage light on the ritual. )



OmniPause: Millhouse, by my authority of Omni, I hereby discern you, a meme. May the angels online forever sing your name. May the winds of broadband forever whisper your legend. May your forces of fps forever flow above sixty. May your service provider retell your title with trumpets, “Millhouse Manastorm, the Malignant Meme.”



Millhouse: Hurray!



( A beat. OmniPost steps forward. )



OmniPost: I see now, < Memes For Life >. The head of the black dragon escapes my local looking.



Jenkins: O’ Noble Neckbeards, we went with a lighter ledger. Instead of the gargantuan dragging of a great dragon head, we brought statements and logs of the black dragon’s credit report. Here folded is his file.



( A beat. )



OmniPost: The Internet will be interested in his social security. You are proven prosperous, < Memes For Life >. I am the Omni of memes to be. I see memes before they are. I will show to one of you the undiscovered country of memes tomorrow. Who of you have vision to see?



Oston: Our Huntress Helena logs all memes as secretary.



Jenkins: She is our master memologist. Make us proud, Huntress.



Helena: I will, Sire, I will see the unseen!



OmniPost: Step forward, Huntress Helena.



( A beat. )



OmniPost: In a single moment, the future will be bestowed unto you. Are you ready?



Helena: I am ready! Pour into me your perceptions, Omnitastic!



( A beat. Stage light on the ritual for a second. )



( A beat. )



Oston: Helena, what did you see?



( A beat. )



Helena: Everything.



Oston: How? Where? With what colors?



( A beat. )



Helena: All become memes. Memes become all. There will be unity.



Jenkins: Oh, wow.



Emoish: O’ Omnitastic, we Baes are curious. We yearn to see the sights of yesterday without the interval of next year’s sacrifice. Could you heal our hunger?



( A beat. OmniPast steps forward. )



OmniPast: In the spirit of the ceremony, I will shine upon your spirits. I am the Omni of memes behind us. How do we wish to ponder the previous?



Emoish: Omni-Awesome, what was the first meme, ever?



Oston: A curious question, what was the first meme?



( A beat. Stage light on OmniPast. )



OmniPast: Amoeba A was talking to Amoeba B. Amoeba A drew a picture of his friend, Amoeba C, wearing cat ears while smoking a cigarette. Amoeba B squiggled with giggles. Amoeba A emailed its other friends the picture under the hashtag, “#justamoebathings.”



( A beat. )



Jenkins: Now we know.



OmniPause: Players, our concert is complete. Go forth, sons and daughters of the world-wide web. Dream the dream of infinity’s reach. The Internet is your gateless garden. Your memes are your bounty, your microtransactions are your fortunes. Ever and always be tasteful in your memes, lest your references be crutches and your humor stunted. Go now… plow, plant, harvest… and live.



( Kazoos play, players bow to the Omnis. Curtain down )



( End of Stage 2. )















***



( Dalaran [Legion] music. Curtain up to the streets of Dalaran. Citizens are going about their business. A beat. )



( Dragons enter holding shopping bags. )



Puck: Over here. Let's let loose to lighten our loads. I need both hands to check the list.



( A beat. )



Tick: How many more shopping stops?



Tock: Before we stop shopping?



Puck: We have two more tasks left for the Big Blue.



Peacebloom: Dalaran is a magical city. Why should we ever wander from this castle in the clouds? These metropolitan mages weave well for mortals.



Tick: What is the financial foundation to live afloat a floating city? What, might we imagine, are the property taxes on a windy city block?



Tock: Sky-high.



Peacebloom: Puck, what’s left on the list?



Puck: Do we have three prismatic shards?



( The dragons check the bags. A beat. )



Peacebloom: We do.



Puck: Do we have three pounds of arcane dust?



( A beat. )



Peacebloom: We do.



Puck: One murloc necklace, one furblog wand, three ogre toes, five sacred candles, four boards of Teldrassil wood, a gallon of moonglade morning dew, a yard of nerubian textile, and one crystal vial of vrykul spit.




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