Wednesday, 11 February 2009

The Dying Beastmaster to his Spirit Beast

I was walking through the Dwarven District the other day, and I heard one of the dwarves singing. It was coming from one of the houses.

He sounded sad... and drunk.

"Lie down... lie down... my spirit beast
  The joyful hunt is o’er
When once, we were not counted least
  And we had a terrible pow'r.

"With just two shots we blazed a path
  Made strong with serpent swiftness
But stronger yet was beastial wrath
  No one could find our weakness

"The marksman’s shot just wasn’t true
  The survivor had to overgear
While we fought wearing only blue
  We raided without fear

"But now a most Explosive Shot
  Was heard around the world
All good things have changed a lot
  And, thus, our vision swirled

"The Blizzard gods were not impressed
That one button we only pressed
Would always beat up all the rest
With better gear could not keep abreast

"They hit us hard, oh spirit beast
  They nerfed us to the ground
And when the dust had settled
  Few beastmasters were left around

"But patch three-point-oh-point-nine
  They say we shall rebuild...
... Shall everything then be fine
  When they almost had us killed?

"Lie down... lie down... dear spirit beast
  Our companionship is o’er
For I cannot bear to be counted least—
  Over companionship, I choose pow'r!"

Then I jumped when I heard a loud bang. It chilled me to the bone. It could have been anything, I kept telling myself as I went home. It could have been anything.

Should Mom know?