2.

Teldrassil. Soothing night elf music played amidst the moon wells. A Horde Death Knight and Shaman stood against a purple sky, immobile, their backs to a sheer drop to the ocean.

Two low level Alliance toons approached cautiously.

"Wow," said Johnrock in hushed tones. "They look badass. What level do you think they are? It just says '?'"

"That just means 'afk,'" Timmy told him. "You know, away from keyboard. Like when we get bored, and you'll whip it out, and we'll just lay low for a while…"

"Dude, don't talk about that!"

"You don't have to be ashamed," said Timmy. "Kyle in the tenth grade does it." He crept forward toward the Horde.

"Hey. Watch this." Timmy /emote slapped the Shaman on the face. He remained unresponsive. Johnrock /rofl'ed.

Timmy stealthed and slipped behind the Shaman. He began to rhythmically backstab him as Johnrock watched greedily.

"Yeah," said Johnrock. "Give it to him. Yeah."

Johnrock's "yeah's" grew throatier as Timmy continued. He began to make moaning noises. It was really gay.

Suddenly – an explosion –

Timmy was sent flying off the edge of the world by the Shaman's Thunderstorm. Letting out a cry of mortal agony as his dick got caught in his zipper, Johnrock stumbled back and began to run.

He made it all of ten feet before the deep purple embrace of a Death Grip jerked him back to the edge. The Shaman let loose another Thunderstorm and Johnrock was sent hurtling into oblivion..

Evil laughter sounded from the two Horde. A walkie-talkie-like click sounded as the Death Knight radioed in the kill.

"Rage," said the Death Knight, Dethecus, in a terribly deep voice. "Come in, Rage."

Nearby, a Horde warrior named Pearl stood on the receiving end of the nonexistent walkie-talkie. He was clothed in a flowing ermine cape, transmogrified to look like the flayed skin of King Magni Bronzebeard of Ironforge, who was currently dead at the feet of Caltrop, the Horde squad leader tasked with the occupation of that city.

"Do you read me," hissed the walkie-talkie.

"This is Pearl," said Pearl. "Rage isn't here. And anyway, he can't talk. Furthermore, why we're using this walkie-talkie is beyond me. This is an MMO, for Christ's sake.

"Father appointed Rage to guard the graveyard," said Dethecus, peeved. "And we can't risk communications being intercepted."

"Stop being a dick, Dethecus. I swear, sometimes I think you're a 12-year-old with a voicebox."

"Two more are headed your way," Dethecus told him. Pearl turned around toward the graveyard he was guarding.

Huddled in a pitiable heap were a dozen or so low-level Alliance toons, stripped naked, cowering at the menacing Horde who surrounded the graveyard in a ring of magic, steel, and certain death. The two new Alliance, recently killed, appeared in the center, bewildered.

"What is this place?" Asked Johnrock, his voice quaking.

"Hell," wailed a human mage, breaking down into hopeless sobs. "It's hell!" The mage attempted to grab Johnrock and shake him. "Get out of here! Sign out while you still can! It's hell –"

The crack of a rifle shot and the mage fell to the ground instantly. A hunter sidled up to survey his shot with satisfaction.

"You know the rules now," said the hunter in a cheerful Australian accent. His name was Nessingwary's Left Nut. "No riling up your fellows.

"$10 for your freedom," he called, making the rounds. "Just $10, pay, play, and be on your way."

A few yards away, an Alliance druid was conducting business with a Horde guard. Concluding the transaction, he morphed into a bear and happily loped off into the woods, leaving behind $10 and the sullen resentment of his fellows.

Just as he reached the treeline, Rage appeared from nowhere, Charging the druid and Mortal Striking for the kill. Outraged cries broke forth from the beleaguered Alliance.

"Dammit, Rage!" said Pearl.

'WTF?!' said the dead druid on general chat.