Once upon a Warsong dreary, while I
pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume
of skillcapped lore,
While I alt-tabbed, nearly dying,
suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some rogue gently stabbing,
stabbing at my back some more.
'Tis some skill-less noob,' I muttered,
'stabbing at my back some more -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I recall it was in the
early Fall,
And each separate dying horde had
wrought its ghost upon the floor,
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I
had sought to borrow
From my vids surcease of sorrow –
sorrow for I play no more -
For the rare and radiant AP of whom I
miss but play no more -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the imbalance itself of each
skill-patched elf
Thrilled me – filled me with
fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my
heart, I stood repeating
'Tis some AP toon entreating that I
play some more -
Some old AP toon entreating that I play
some more; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my toon grew stronger;
hesitating then no longer,
'Bad,' said I, 'or Noobie, truly your
submission I impore;
But the fact is I was alt-tabbed, and
so gently you came tapping,
And so faintly you came stabbing,
stabbing at my back some more,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' –
here I pet freeze to my fore; -
Smeld there, and nothing more.
Deep into that login peering, long I
stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, knowing blizzard has nerfed
my precious toons before;
But the nerf was indirect, and the
login was correct
And the only phrase there spoken was
the whispered phrase, “Play More!”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured
back the phrase, “Play More!”
Merely this and nothing more.
