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| Guidmate sacrificed three Spirits to make this for me--I know someone who's getting a Cinder Kitten! |
There once was a shaman, she is the main—
Enhancement
was she, until she hit healing rain
But to stay as main she would need some help, that was plain
But to stay as main she would need some help, that was plain
However
most were too busy trying for rep and valor to gain
From
alts and guildies to boost her gear score
She
would need enchants, gems, and much more
So
she called in a mage, who had anger management rage,
Asked
her to start fires, inks, and scribe some scrolly scrolls,
but
got all wet and frustrated, and killed by trolly-trolls
To
cool things down, she decided to quest
and
break NPCs from a cages, to the west
She
went to the yucky place, but got lost in the haze
So
she milled leaves and something that looked like dead sage
From
the flowers she picked, quick as a blink
(The
druid tried, too, but got eaten I think)
But
that became an epically-epic time-sink
The
mage got distracted, as mages often do,
They
have a very difficult time staying true
She
decided to make a staff for the priest,
Therefore
the mage’s focus on the shaman’s needs ceased
So
she called in a druid, a flower-picker, too, (but no inks)
She
created potions, flasks, and other tasty drinks
The
druid can do it, let’s give her a cheer!
She’ll
be level 90 by the end of the year…
The
shaman sent her ore, galore! And gave her a chore:
Smelt
me s’mores! Smelt me more!
The
druid responsibility took to her tasks
But
forgot what her purpose was, and drank all the flasks
When
she woke up in the drunk-tank,
Feathers
mussed, with a skunk pet that stank,
She
recalled her duty to shaman and guild
That
it was her mission of gear score to help build
She
used ghost bars to make the trillium,
And
forgot to transmute primal diamonds (how sillium!)
So
the sockets were sockless, to coin a new idiom
And
the she drunkenly used lotus on some effluvium
A
paladin was on standby, wanting to make
A
new mace or shield so that booties would shake
But
the living steel took too long,
(This
is starting to be a familiar song)
The
blacksmith would have to wait
To
make better gear, it would be a long date
Now
back to the hunter, she’ll save the day!
With
her growling pet at her side, the hides she’ll cut away
But
even she wandered off in a meadow, I’m told
And
was last seen with full bags of intestines to hold
So
it’s back to the mage, come on girl, Be quick!
Mill
those inks! Pick those flowers! Do your clever trick!
The
shaman is waiting to get a hefty gear score
Do
you want her to wipe the raid, or not know her lore?
The
mage hung her head in a semblance of shame
She
tried for contrition but, hey it was only a game
Who
else can she call? Who else indeed?
Which
one of the alts can stand in her stead?
Now
the monk is not good, such a lowbie to the end
She should have used recruit-a-friend
The
druid was still squishy, how could she survive?
The
mobs of critters who ate her alive
She
wanted to be an industrious farmer,
and
not have anything harm her
To
grow the spirits and motes
(Rumor
has it those things grow like oats)
She
would need the lotus of golden
She
was only a Mogit alt, not beholden
Call
in a young priest! Call in an old one!
So
in from the shadows she came,
from
the house of the auction
The
priest who spins the silk,
like
those of her ilk
She
does this daily, every hour x 24
Because
the cool down bars the door
She
needed motes, too, dammit,
But
instead of trying, she took a different gambit
She
would work hard to gain rep,
And
around the valley she’d schlep
She
worked so hard to pound down some Mogu
But
when she was last seen, with pandas she was drinking their brew
She
didn’t get the cloth done for the mage in time
So
no staff for anyone, not even account-with-bind
Sadly
the druid went on a three-day drunken bender
And
the unsold items were marked “return to sender”
When we last saw our shaman, our one, our main
She was talking to some Klaxxi she hoped to
entertain
She would cut through the amber and pound on
some sand
And find new ways to cope in a dangerous land
The lesson here, my alts of my life,
If you want to lessen your pain and your
strife
Just focus on one, and don’t try to juggle
The amount of pixels it takes that make up our
struggle
One or two is fine to focus on, it’s true
They can’t all get to ninety in a day, boo-hoo, QQ
Theme song: Countdown/The Black Keys
Postscript: Notice how I break iambic pentameter once in awhile? I meant to do that.
Theme song: Countdown/The Black Keys
