03-23-2008, 11:27 PM
I wrote this story in response to something a friend once told me on this game about not being real.
/e beats its hoof upon its chest
Miuma, you are real to me. Enjoy
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Once upon a time, there was a Troll. This Troll liked to play with toys. His name was Gmab. The Troll had a wide assortment of toys. His three favorites were Tulian, Sheeana, and Kawaii. Tulian was a toy elf that could turn into a wolf on command, woof, and when the Troll clicked on him he giggled and ported the Troll anywhere in the wonderful world of Norrath. Sheeana's primary function was to look good, but she also had a clickie function that would scrounge up food for eating like roots, a pod of water, or a dead rat. Kawaii's primary function was to listen to the Troll whine, which he did nearly 24/7. If it rained, the Troll whined. If the stock market crashed, the Troll whined. If he was forced to listen to Barbara Streisand, the Troll whined. And each time, it whined to the Kawaii doll, which could only respond by smiling, because toys can't do much of anything else.
But the Troll soon became bored with these toys. They were SO last years' models. What the Troll REALLY wanted was a Velveteen Halfing Clickie, Verson 3.0. Everybody was talking about these models. They were the greatest invention since the slap bracelet. Not only were they good looking to the point of being down right delicious, if you clicked their right hand, they healed you, and if you clicked their left hand, they rezzed you hard. Sweeeet.
The Troll waited months for a Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Version 3.0. Every morning, he would greet his mother with a sloppy lick and ask, "Mum, can I get the Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Version 3.0, today?" His mother always refused because she thought he had too many toys already and should be placing Froglok ball with the other trolls.
The Troll tried doing things around the house. He monitored the temperature of the lava pits, brewed the Grobb stout, filleted the Froglok steaks, mended the Froglok skin clothes. And every day he had to suffer existence without a Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Version 3.0, he complained long and hard to his Kawaii doll, who lovelingly listened to every word.
Until one day his mother broke down and bought him a Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Verson 3.0. It was the most beautiful toy the Troll had ever seen. It was fat and plump like a festering boil. It had fur on its feet like a glass of milk that has been sitting on the table for three weeks. It smelled an awful lot like a ferret. That is, it smelled a lot like an awful ferret. It was everything the Troll had wished for and more. The Troll decided to call his new clickie, Miuma.
He instantly ran into the wilds with his new clickie to try it out. He ripped off his manly troll armor and let the frogloks feed on his utters. As they tore into his soft flesh, he clickied his Version 3.0 and it squeeled, "<<<<<44444 GH to the Troll in 10 seconds 44444>>>>>>." At first nothing happened. The Frogloks continued their feeding and infected his wounds with their undead tongues and then, bleam, complete heal. It was an amazing feeling. So the Troll did it again. This time he purpled himself, but bleam, what a rush when that heal finally kicked in. The troll later got carried away with some razorfiends, but again, Miuma was there to save him. She waved her shimmering phallus in the air and the troll was rezzed.
As he placed his Miuma on the shelf for the night with all his other toys, he truly thought the Version 3.0 to be a remarkable clickie.
Miuma was thinking highly of herself too. She recalled how mangificant her new owner was. He had a mighty chest with mighty hooves, a rack full of glorious utters, and it was even rumored one of his stomachs even had the power of divination.
"Pfft," something said, grabbing Miuma's attention.
"Wha, what was that," Miuma squeeked, looking at the pile of toys.
"You think you are pretty fancy, what with your procelin smile and velveteen fur." This time Miuma could see the comment was coming from something like looked like it used to be an elf, but had seen better days.
"Who are you," Miuma asked.
"I am called Tulian. And you might be shiny and you might be new, but you are nobody," the elf roared.
"I am to somebody. My Troll named me Miuma, and oh, the adventures we had today!"
"Pfft," spat another toy, this time a ranger. "The Troll will soon grow tired of you, and you will end up like them," the ranger motioned to a pile of toys falling out of a chest.
Miuma grew concerned. "Wh...who are they," Miuma peeped.
"Those are all of the insignificant toys that are soon tossed aside because they are not REAL," answered a worn-out, top-heavy barbarian.
"What is Real?" Miuma asked innocently.
"Real is what happens with a Troll truly loves you," answered Tulian. He motioned to the three of them, "We are real."
"When you are real," Sheeana added, "you can loose your hair and your buttons, your clickie can break and your paint can chip off, and you don't care because you are loved."
"How do you become real?!" Miuma asked earnestly.
"You become real after a very long time. As the ranger said, you start to lose your sparkle and your buttons and one day you realize you lost them because they were loved off. On that day, you become real."
Miuma did not really know what the toys were talking about, but they had lost all their hair, they definitely did not have buttons, and were generally the ugliest toys she had ever seen, so she figured they must be real.
Miuma wanted more than anything at that moment to be real.
The next couple days were hard for Miuma. She healed and rezzed on command. She protected the Troll from the molestering of the Frogloks. But she was sad, because she knew the toys were right, and as soon as the Troll got tired of 3.0, Miuma would be tossed in the chest with the other obsolete toys.
Miuma and the Troll had many fine months together. They went on adventures, joined groups of strange humanoids that seemed nice, but had the unfortunate luck not to be trolls. They even went on things called raids, which usually ended up in wipes and lots and LOTS of clickies. Until one day something horrible happened. The troll got savagely ill. He vomited a chunky mixture of troll bile and froglock parts. He became feverish and disoriented. He began to cry and was scared.
As the Grobb trolls attempted to discover what was wrong with the Troll, no one paid attention to Miuma. For the first time since her conversaion with the toys on the toy shelf, Miuma began to worry about what the toys had told her. The time had come. She was of no use to the Troll, so the Troll did not come and see her. She was obsolete. One day, a cleaner picked up Miuma, who was strewn on the floor in a heap, and tossed her in the chest with the other obsolete toys. Miuma cried.
Miuma cried hard.
As it turns out, the troll was very sick. The shamans discovered that the troll had GI distress. Anyone who knows about trolls knows that GI distress is extremely distressing. GI Distress makes it hard for trolls to digest stuff. A troll that cannot digest stuff... is just ugly. The shamans theorized that he probably got sick from one of his filthy toys, so they ordered that his toys be gathered and burned in a bon fire.
All of the Troll's toys were gathered. Tulian, with his dog-face clickie, Sheeana, with her feed me-clickie, Kawaii with her broken smile, the chest of obsolete toys. Even poor Miuma. The toys were stacked high, to catch the North wind and thus burn faster. On the top of the pyre, an elder placed the Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Version 3.0.
That was about the time the gods intervened. Bristlebane, because he is tricky like that, generated a gust that blast into Miuma, causing her to topple off and roll into the gutter. Miuma was damp. Miuma was cold. But she watched the bonfire from a safe distance, and closed her ears to the sounds of clickies wailing in the conflageration.
As it turned out, the Troll did get better. You just can't keep a good carnivore down. The seasons passed, and the troll became stronger. Devoid of toys, he was also forced to socialize with other toys, and actually began dating this top-heavy bitch that reminded him of his old Barbarian clickie. Her name was Breka.
As fate would have it, the Troll and Breka were walking down the streets of Grobb one day, hoof-in-hoof, when something caught the Troll's eye. It was covered in leaves and mud, but when the Troll shoveled it out, he was overjoyed.
"This was my Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Version 3.0," he explained to Breka. "Here," he said, "let me show you how it works."
And he took Breka and Miuma and he showed Breka how to push Miuma's buttons and make her squeel. Miuma had never been happier.
Miuma suddenly realized that she had lost her buttons. Her wand was smashed and had split in two. The fuzzy of her toes had fallen out, and she lost five of her teeth. Truly, Miuma was real.
The Troll and Miuma were never separated from that day forward. (Breka made it another three days). And the Troll and Miuma lived happily ever after. Until the release of the Halfling Clickie 4.0. But that... is another story.
The end.
/e beats its hoof upon its chest
Miuma, you are real to me. Enjoy
----------------------------------------
Once upon a time, there was a Troll. This Troll liked to play with toys. His name was Gmab. The Troll had a wide assortment of toys. His three favorites were Tulian, Sheeana, and Kawaii. Tulian was a toy elf that could turn into a wolf on command, woof, and when the Troll clicked on him he giggled and ported the Troll anywhere in the wonderful world of Norrath. Sheeana's primary function was to look good, but she also had a clickie function that would scrounge up food for eating like roots, a pod of water, or a dead rat. Kawaii's primary function was to listen to the Troll whine, which he did nearly 24/7. If it rained, the Troll whined. If the stock market crashed, the Troll whined. If he was forced to listen to Barbara Streisand, the Troll whined. And each time, it whined to the Kawaii doll, which could only respond by smiling, because toys can't do much of anything else.
But the Troll soon became bored with these toys. They were SO last years' models. What the Troll REALLY wanted was a Velveteen Halfing Clickie, Verson 3.0. Everybody was talking about these models. They were the greatest invention since the slap bracelet. Not only were they good looking to the point of being down right delicious, if you clicked their right hand, they healed you, and if you clicked their left hand, they rezzed you hard. Sweeeet.
The Troll waited months for a Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Version 3.0. Every morning, he would greet his mother with a sloppy lick and ask, "Mum, can I get the Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Version 3.0, today?" His mother always refused because she thought he had too many toys already and should be placing Froglok ball with the other trolls.
The Troll tried doing things around the house. He monitored the temperature of the lava pits, brewed the Grobb stout, filleted the Froglok steaks, mended the Froglok skin clothes. And every day he had to suffer existence without a Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Version 3.0, he complained long and hard to his Kawaii doll, who lovelingly listened to every word.
Until one day his mother broke down and bought him a Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Verson 3.0. It was the most beautiful toy the Troll had ever seen. It was fat and plump like a festering boil. It had fur on its feet like a glass of milk that has been sitting on the table for three weeks. It smelled an awful lot like a ferret. That is, it smelled a lot like an awful ferret. It was everything the Troll had wished for and more. The Troll decided to call his new clickie, Miuma.
He instantly ran into the wilds with his new clickie to try it out. He ripped off his manly troll armor and let the frogloks feed on his utters. As they tore into his soft flesh, he clickied his Version 3.0 and it squeeled, "<<<<<44444 GH to the Troll in 10 seconds 44444>>>>>>." At first nothing happened. The Frogloks continued their feeding and infected his wounds with their undead tongues and then, bleam, complete heal. It was an amazing feeling. So the Troll did it again. This time he purpled himself, but bleam, what a rush when that heal finally kicked in. The troll later got carried away with some razorfiends, but again, Miuma was there to save him. She waved her shimmering phallus in the air and the troll was rezzed.
As he placed his Miuma on the shelf for the night with all his other toys, he truly thought the Version 3.0 to be a remarkable clickie.
Miuma was thinking highly of herself too. She recalled how mangificant her new owner was. He had a mighty chest with mighty hooves, a rack full of glorious utters, and it was even rumored one of his stomachs even had the power of divination.
"Pfft," something said, grabbing Miuma's attention.
"Wha, what was that," Miuma squeeked, looking at the pile of toys.
"You think you are pretty fancy, what with your procelin smile and velveteen fur." This time Miuma could see the comment was coming from something like looked like it used to be an elf, but had seen better days.
"Who are you," Miuma asked.
"I am called Tulian. And you might be shiny and you might be new, but you are nobody," the elf roared.
"I am to somebody. My Troll named me Miuma, and oh, the adventures we had today!"
"Pfft," spat another toy, this time a ranger. "The Troll will soon grow tired of you, and you will end up like them," the ranger motioned to a pile of toys falling out of a chest.
Miuma grew concerned. "Wh...who are they," Miuma peeped.
"Those are all of the insignificant toys that are soon tossed aside because they are not REAL," answered a worn-out, top-heavy barbarian.
"What is Real?" Miuma asked innocently.
"Real is what happens with a Troll truly loves you," answered Tulian. He motioned to the three of them, "We are real."
"When you are real," Sheeana added, "you can loose your hair and your buttons, your clickie can break and your paint can chip off, and you don't care because you are loved."
"How do you become real?!" Miuma asked earnestly.
"You become real after a very long time. As the ranger said, you start to lose your sparkle and your buttons and one day you realize you lost them because they were loved off. On that day, you become real."
Miuma did not really know what the toys were talking about, but they had lost all their hair, they definitely did not have buttons, and were generally the ugliest toys she had ever seen, so she figured they must be real.
Miuma wanted more than anything at that moment to be real.
The next couple days were hard for Miuma. She healed and rezzed on command. She protected the Troll from the molestering of the Frogloks. But she was sad, because she knew the toys were right, and as soon as the Troll got tired of 3.0, Miuma would be tossed in the chest with the other obsolete toys.
Miuma and the Troll had many fine months together. They went on adventures, joined groups of strange humanoids that seemed nice, but had the unfortunate luck not to be trolls. They even went on things called raids, which usually ended up in wipes and lots and LOTS of clickies. Until one day something horrible happened. The troll got savagely ill. He vomited a chunky mixture of troll bile and froglock parts. He became feverish and disoriented. He began to cry and was scared.
As the Grobb trolls attempted to discover what was wrong with the Troll, no one paid attention to Miuma. For the first time since her conversaion with the toys on the toy shelf, Miuma began to worry about what the toys had told her. The time had come. She was of no use to the Troll, so the Troll did not come and see her. She was obsolete. One day, a cleaner picked up Miuma, who was strewn on the floor in a heap, and tossed her in the chest with the other obsolete toys. Miuma cried.
Miuma cried hard.
As it turns out, the troll was very sick. The shamans discovered that the troll had GI distress. Anyone who knows about trolls knows that GI distress is extremely distressing. GI Distress makes it hard for trolls to digest stuff. A troll that cannot digest stuff... is just ugly. The shamans theorized that he probably got sick from one of his filthy toys, so they ordered that his toys be gathered and burned in a bon fire.
All of the Troll's toys were gathered. Tulian, with his dog-face clickie, Sheeana, with her feed me-clickie, Kawaii with her broken smile, the chest of obsolete toys. Even poor Miuma. The toys were stacked high, to catch the North wind and thus burn faster. On the top of the pyre, an elder placed the Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Version 3.0.
That was about the time the gods intervened. Bristlebane, because he is tricky like that, generated a gust that blast into Miuma, causing her to topple off and roll into the gutter. Miuma was damp. Miuma was cold. But she watched the bonfire from a safe distance, and closed her ears to the sounds of clickies wailing in the conflageration.
As it turned out, the Troll did get better. You just can't keep a good carnivore down. The seasons passed, and the troll became stronger. Devoid of toys, he was also forced to socialize with other toys, and actually began dating this top-heavy bitch that reminded him of his old Barbarian clickie. Her name was Breka.
As fate would have it, the Troll and Breka were walking down the streets of Grobb one day, hoof-in-hoof, when something caught the Troll's eye. It was covered in leaves and mud, but when the Troll shoveled it out, he was overjoyed.
"This was my Velveteen Halfling Clickie, Version 3.0," he explained to Breka. "Here," he said, "let me show you how it works."
And he took Breka and Miuma and he showed Breka how to push Miuma's buttons and make her squeel. Miuma had never been happier.
Miuma suddenly realized that she had lost her buttons. Her wand was smashed and had split in two. The fuzzy of her toes had fallen out, and she lost five of her teeth. Truly, Miuma was real.
The Troll and Miuma were never separated from that day forward. (Breka made it another three days). And the Troll and Miuma lived happily ever after. Until the release of the Halfling Clickie 4.0. But that... is another story.
The end.
:p :eek: