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If you sit down in a parlor and ever find yourself asking the inevitable 'what if I did something different, maybe this would have happened' I'm going to stop you right there with a warm blanket of a story.
(The blanket is itchy, worn, and has enough emotional trauma to feed several angsty teenagers)
You'll twist your head into a loop thinking of the possibilities. If you'd had just studied the night before. If you'd have just done the dishes when you asked. If only you'd remembered to do those chores. Maybe- just maybe- things would be different. If I hadn't committed incidental suicide via shower curtain, I might have finished college and lived a decently normal life.
(One of those is not like the others)
And if a decently normal life includes not being reborn into a video game of worldwide proportions and facing the biggest cluster fuck of problems, avoiding detrimental clouds, fighting a voice in a sword and beating the shit out of several blonde people, well.
Then what would you have done differently?
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If you were to ever find your feet into the Stormwind City Library, and I do mean by happenstance and not by coincidence considering you'd have to have a reason to be there or pissing royalty into your cereal, you'd find a dusty old scroll on the farthest bookshelf facing the southern wall. The bookshelf is empty, the librarian merely shrugs at any inquires, and the whole thing smells like musty bread. If you were to peel open the scroll, never minding the sticky substance on the back, the words in side might come as a surprise.
Or not. Depends on if your Chromie or Wrathion, who both would love to have the scroll and you'd probably like to wash your hands. We can't all have miracles.
It'll be written elegantly, with the practiced hand of someone who had to endure hours of eloquence training. Not necessarily a royal, considering most upper and middle class citizens learn to make their writing look like a French student vomiting on it. But it looks pleasing to the eye.
"Written by the most basic bitch in the world."
It's a cringe worthy master piece.
"I'll start this off short, since I want to write more but, eh, I'm in between a rock and a giant ass wall of ice that'll crush me at any moment. Problems, right? Well, listen buddy, problems are everywhere in this damn world. I can't walk out my door without some guy asking me to feed his squirrel some orphans for like two copper.
Looking back I'm sincerely regretting declining his offer.
Anyway, besides bemusing child masochism, I'll introduce you to my good friend Frosty. He's an asshole, through and through. Or is it a she?
(There's a scribble of a sword with a dick on it)
There's this ancient tradition in my homeland of avoiding problems. It's called procrastination. Listen, pal, these words your reading? Yeah, a procrastinator wrote them. I bet you want to know what sinful people like myself end up with such a burden.
We end up half dead on a mountain with several million people wanting to cut off our head.
(The sword now has a frowny face)
I say We because Frosty is as much neck deep in this as me. I mean, I was just doing what I thought was right. Then I kind of hoped for the best and sat on it for a while. Not to imply I sat on Frosty. I would die. In the end, I ended up miles behind an explanation I couldn't even hope to forge a signature for and the entire world pointing its fingers, and weapons, at me.
In hindsight, taking the blade before the paladin wasn't the brightest idea, both literally and mentally."
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