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About Smiles Macblaster

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  1. Im going to put my normally neutral, closed-mouthed policy aside and say whats on my mind here. Pandarens are on my top three list of favorite races and their addition has been impatiently awaited by myself for years now. They are one of the most under-rated races in World of Warcraft and I think that's what drew me to write about them a few years ago in the short story 'War Pigs' that I posted during one of the writing contests here on TNG. You might call them a 'joke race', and to a certain extent that is true in the litteral sense. They were in fact an April Fools joke. But they deserve no less respect than a good deal of races whoms' addition in Warcraft Lore has been sudden and unforeseen. I've been aware and at least casually interested in the franchise since Warcraft 2 and things have changed alot since then with the adoption of Chris Metzen into Blizzard. Alot of characters were killed off, alot of backstories have been retconned, and alot of horrizons in the litteral sense have been expanded. In Warcraft 3 we were introduced to a number of races, where there were once just the proud and not-quite-as-so-magically inclined(and Addicted) High Elves of Quel'Thalas, there were now, suddenly, a far older variety of Amazonian-esqe nocturnal Elves living on a continent far to the west. Night Elves, who were as Grom Hellscream described, 'looked' like elves but were "far too tall, and far too savage". And whom wanted nothing to do with the 'Outlander' races who had so arrogantly trespassed on their sacred, ancestral soil. Attacking not just the Orcs who harvested their trees for lumber and slew their demi-god, but the Humans and Dwarves who came in peace. A rather 'ask-questions-later- approach. Now it's hard to think of an Alliance without our long-earred, purple, mailbox-dancing fri--...whor--...Friends. And what of the Nomadic race of towering, hoof-thundering peoples of the plains that the Orcish Horde met on their arrival in Kalimdor almost immediately? What would the Horde be without the Tauren? After all is said and done with the 'mooing', over-scaled mount sizes, difficuty getting through doorways and numerous bovine jokes, are the Tauren not the second name you recite off the top of your head when you list the Horde races? I'd remind you that they were as new to Warcraft as the Night Elves at the time of their addition in Warcraft 3, and as alien. Mino-'Tauric' perhaps, but at the end of the day, they are 'cow people'. The Darkspear Trolls... Jungle Trolls, and entirely new addition to the concept of trolls in Warcraft as well as... Well, before WoW, had any of you heard of a 'Jungle Troll' before? Their additon was rather sudden, with their intergration a un-voice-acted and easily missed quasi-removed cliffnote campaign in Warcraft 3 that most people would have never known about had it not been explained far later. These being the race that was replacing the Forest Trolls(primarily the Amani) from Warcraft 2, remember, who had vivid history with the High Elves which led to them alligning with the Horde. Also, the Jamacian-accent was a jump, not that im complaining. Regardless of whether you love them or hate them, its hard to think of a Horde without the Darkspears. Annnnnd the 'Blood Elves'.... Who would have thought.... Elves... on the Horde? I know I certainly didn't see it coming in TBC and sometimes I still think it's a... Invoking Neutral closed-mouthed policy. Im sure you can guess where I stand on that. The Draenei are probably the biggest surprise in races. Im quite sure none of you saw it coming, nor their background, and that's for good reason: Blizzard didn't either. In one of the most mental-gymnastically-constructed retcons that have ever been conceived, the once vague, the then old and gnarlled-looking, balleen-having creatures that appeared in The Frozen Throne Expansion of Warcraft 3(That you know as 'Lost Ones') were now, not only joining the Alliance, they were a race that shared its lineage with the Demon Lords Archimonde and Kil'jaeden. And had star ships. And Paladins. Just go back in time and try to re-sink that in. Okay, Good. And they saved the Blood Elves from a magically-starved existence by helping restore the Sunwell with their Chandelier-looking gods of pure light energy. I think a 'Thank You' is in order. The Worgen were an initial shock to me, I know that much. But Blizzard impressed us all with their story and the vivid scenery of where they lived. They had yet again done the impossible lore-wise, not only did they sell us Wolfmen, they brought back a land and race of people that most of us had either forgotten about, lost interest in, or were impatiently awaiting the return of(I know I was): The Kingdom of Gilneas. Call them furries, Brits, or fido, Blizzard did a hell of a job with them and if only for that reason alone, they've earned their place as a playable race in WoW. The point im making is this, yes the Pandarens were originally not meant to be a part of the Warcraft universe. But really, is it REALLY such a jump? We 'bearly' (I made a non-disembowelment related joke) know the Pandarens as a race in WoW, that leaves plenty of room for them to grow into the game, but they aren't as unfounded in lore as some of, if not a good many of the races playable in WoW were in the past. What was known of the Pandarens before BlizzCon was they were ancient and likely older than even the Night Elven civilization, which has been confirmed. It was known that they were spiritual people with a societal inclination towards drinking and brewing potent ale. Which unless they were all raging drunks gave a certain insight into the Pandaren's way of doing things that Chen Stormstout signified pretty well in his noted, but underrated part in founding Durotar during the events of the the Frozen Throne expansion of Warcraft 3. And that insight was that these brothers might like to have a good time; tell a few stories, brew a few brews, drink a few brews, but if you mean them harm they'll douse you in booze and light your punk-ass on fire. And though they weren't to fleshed out besides that, there was some lore about them which couldn't necessarly all be considered cannon at the time, but seems to be at least in part made fact with the announcement of the Mists of Pandaria expansion. Had there not been at least something a bit more substanial then just the events of Warcraft regarding them, I wouldn't have made the leap of writing even the little bit i did about them. I knew they had Shado-Pan, which are generally the Pandaren equivilent of Yoda and will melt your face with their mind and smite you with elemental whoop-ass from the heavens. And I knew they had at least the foundations of a potent millitary force, as well as an honored warrior tradition, all of which was in part or primarily at least strongly influenced by ancient Chinese culture and perception. This mated with their love of brewing ale, makes for what I found, and what seems to be confirmed to be, the sense of what it means to be Pandarens: Balance and harmony in all things. Thus they are not overtly childish, nor are they malicious as a great deal of Ancient Chinese history tended to be. They are a mix of strong-willed, patient light heartedness that I believe better suits the sort of cartoony yet at the end of the day, WAR-driven climate that WoW has become and will likely always be. And as far as what effect they'll have on Azeroth as a whole? It's been hinted, and I have a good idea of where it will go. I remind you of the trials and tribulations that the Draenei and Blood Elves went through during the events leading up to the Burning Crusade. Both races were battered and beaten to the verge of being virtually unrecognizable: In the moral and societally-driven sense with the Blood Elves from their High Elven roots(and to a limited physical sense), and in the overwhelmingly physically litteral sense of the Draenei, who were in many cases devolved to mindless mutants and bitter tribal-minded hermits. And yet it was those two races who probably made the biggest impact on the events of the Burning Crusade expansion as a whole, after all it was they who vanguarded the Shattered Sun Offensive. And as I said before, the Draenei specifically who helped heal and guide the Blood Elves. A people who treated the Draenei horribly, killing many of them in the Exodar incident. Just as the Taurens helped and continue to help and guide the Orcs away from fully becoming what they once were. Despite the loss of their leader to the Warchief of those very same Orcs. Just as the Cenarion Circle continues to heal and mend the devastation of the Plague in Lordaeron. A place of no immediate concern to them. I feel the Pandarens have a guiding part to play yet in the lore of Cataclysm-wracked Azeroth. Perhaps, in regards to balance and harmony. I certainly hope not, though, that shit is bad for business. Dollar-Dollar Bill, ya'll.
  2. <p>So you're not dead yet, Well Done! Keep it up and have a great many Happy Birthdays to come! :]</p>

  3. <p>how true, mt dear friend. I'm dangerously infectious with writer's block and time management</p>

  4. <p>Salutations. I have several stories in development, though im afraid it can be something of a deliciously agonizing process in birthing them. Writer's block, an indiscriminate plague that afflicts us all.</p>

  5. <p>Salutations, Mr McBlaster, what fun and grim story will you be bringing us?</p>

  6. <p>Why did Smiles go poof? <img src="<fileStore.core_Emoticons>/emoticons/sad.png" alt=":(" srcset="<fileStore.core_Emoticons>/emoticons/sad@2x.png 2x" width="20" height="20" /></p>

  7. *****Graphic Violence***** “Where-is-my-AMULET?!” The Goblin before him rose from the deck of the ship on his elbows and looked up at him with black, soulless eyes, the smell of burnt flesh wafting into the air as charred bits of skin continued to peel from the Goblin’s body. The burned Goblin’s mouth, cheekless and lipless, parted like a shark’s maw as its head quirked with a look of amusement. His only response a cold and ugly laugh, pus-laden mucus and blood flinging from the Goblin’s yellow teeth. The Proprietor snarled and stood, directing two of his lackeys to take the charred Goblin away with a wave of his green hand, “Get this thing to the infirmary before it bleeds out all over the deck”. The old Goblin struck up a match and re-lit his cigar as he turned and made for his cabin, “He’ll talk if I have to scrape off what’s left of his skin with a sickle”. “…He slipped out of the restraints the moment the Brusiers left the infirmary and is going ape-shit on the medical equipment”. “He’s already costing us thousands in damages, not to mention with the two surgeons he killed during the procedure, it took five Brusiers to hold him down” The voice on the other end of the intercom seemed more than mildly concerned, “It’s not natural sir, somebody with his injuries shouldn’t be walking, alive even, let alone killing people…” The muffled sound of maddened laughter could be heard through the static, along with a loud banging, “We’ve got him barricaded in his room… he’s been laughing and trying to get through, sir… He’s raving bloody mad!” The sound of splintering wood soon followed, accompanied by that of a high-pitched screaming, all the while laced with that same maniacal laughter. Then silence. The Proprietor flicked a switch on the intercom and spoke with mild indifference, “Report”. A long silence ensued and the old Goblin scowled at the efficiency of his subordinates. He turned in his chair at his temporary office-desk within his cabin and picked up a remote control, flicking through the channels on a small television placed on the corner of his desk. As he scanned through the various security camera feeds aboard the ship, he narrowed his eyes in the dim light at the black and white screen until he found what he was looking for: a view of the passageway out front of the infirmary. The wooden door leading into the infirmary was blocked by a desk and had a long splintered hole in the center of it. A few feet away the limp form of a Goblin layed prostrate on the floor of the passageway, a puddle of dark liquid pooling around it. There were several other Goblins present, all alive and trying their best to tend to their fallen ally. The Proprietor flicked the switch on the intercom again and spoke into it, “You there, pick up the communicator, Now.” One of the other Goblins, obviously one of his Brusiers, seemed to take note of the noise and pried the handheld communication device from the dead Goblin’s fingers, shaking the blood off and holding it up to his ear, “Boss?”. “Tell me what happened” the Proprietor pinched the bridge of his green nose with restrained impatience as he spoke. “The nutjob broke through the door, boss—“ “Is he still inside the infirmary?” the Old Goblin cut the Brusier off mid-sentence, obviously less concerned with the fallen Goblin’s well-being than with his own affairs. “Uhh, should be I’d think… He just reached through the gap he made and got hold of him, hole was to small for him to squirm through though”. “Check YOU IDIOT, I’m not reassured by your hunch” The Brusier stepped over the corpse of the dead Goblin and leaned over the desk blocking the doorway, peering through the splintered hole. The Goblin craned his neck from side to side searchingly, his back to the camera, “I don’t see…wait…is that a…grate cover?” Suddenly a small form dropped from the somewhere out of the camera’s view with something small and silver clenched between its bandaged fingers, landing on top of the Brusier as he finished his sentence and slitting his throat, hand wrapped around the Goblin’s mouth before he could scream and warn his comrades. The four Brusiers now focused on looting the body of the Fallen Goblin on the floor didn’t hear as the creature came at them, wrapping an arm around one’s neck and snapping it before going to the one beside it. Again the creature wrapped an arm around the Goblin’s neck, but this time he pulled back and slammed what looked to be a surgical scalpel between the Goblin’s ribs, puncturing the lungs and once again preventing him from screaming. A gurgled death breath did manage to seep from the Goblin’s lips through as he doubled over and the other two Brusiers looked up in shock. “Cheereo” the mutilated, bandage-wrapped Goblin could be heard saying over the Proprietor’s intercom as it raised a wide-muzzled blunderbuss that it had acquired from its most recent victim and aimed it at the last two Brusiers. With a loud thunderclap that could be heard throughout the ship the thing pulled the trigger at point-blank-range, sending the two dumbstruck Goblins flying backwards against the bulkhead in a bloody mess. The Proprietor watched as the thing dropped the firearm and calmly rolled the Brusier bleeding out atop the desk-barricade over and took the handheld communicator from him in turn, holding it up to his mouth as he looked knowingly up at the camera, “Well hellooooo there, to whom should I send my gratitude for such warm hospitality?”. Reflexively the Proprietor smiled cruelly and tapped the silent alarm button on his desk, speaking calmly into the intercom in patient response, “My name is unimportant, but you may refer to me simply as The Proprietor, but as my guest you on the other hand are somewhat obligated to give me your name, are you not?” The mutilated Goblin quirked his head in that same amused gesture, smiling permanently up at the Proprietor through the camera feed, “My friends call me Smiles, I’m sure you’ll find me to be a barrel of laughs”. With that Smiles reached into the dead Brusier’s belt and pulled out a flintlock pistol, aimed it at the camera, and fired, scrambling the feed in static. The Proprietor leaned back in his chair and chewed the end of his cigar calmly in quiet contemplation; his only company the warm glow of his cigar and the soft hum of the television screen. Suddenly another voice buzzed over the intercom speaker, this one of his men, “Sir, you triggered the alarm, is everything alright?” After a long silent moment, the old Goblin reached forward and flicked a switch on the intercom, speaking calmly in response, “No, everything is quite alright… In fact, you and the rest of the men can take the rest of the day off, I will be expecting company in my cabin and I do not wish to be disturbed”. “Uhh… Okay, you got it boss… I will order them to stand down then”. The old Goblin leaned back in his chair once more as a grin curled around the end of his cigar; with a slight chuckle he spoke to himself in the dark: Smiles… My my my… Smiles met no resistance as he walked through the labyrinth of passageways honeycombed through the bowels of the large ship as he made his way to the stern: where whoever was charge undoubtedly resided. He already had an idea of who that was exactly, in all likelihood the Goblin with the air of command who had seemed so intent upon some amulet. Judging from the lack of security, Smiles figured the Goblin was either very dumb or very sure of himself. No matter, he’d dealt with their sort before, pompous scum who thought of themselves as untouchable. Smiles licked his yellow teeth and twirled the scalpel in his hands. He’d carve the assurance out of him. The mutilated Goblin came to a large pair of double doors and was about to kick them in when they seemed to open by themselves, swinging open smoothly and stopping just as they became parallel to one another. Smiles stepped into the shadowed room, dimly lit by only a single television perched atop a desk on the far end of the cabin. The shimmering white glow partially revealed the shadowed outline of a Goblin sitting in a large leather chair with his hands lightly clasped around its plush arms, a smoldering cigar clenched between his lips. “Hello Smiles”, said the Goblin in a cool tone, who then pushed a hidden switch somewhere on the chair’s arm, triggering the two doors to swing shut behind his guest, “Please sit”. The Goblin gestured to a chair as Smiles walked up to the desk, but he remained standing, wary of his surroundings as his eyes shifted between the Shadowed Goblin before him and the darkened corners of the Cabin. The old Goblin raised a hand and clasped it around a small remote, pointing it to an unseen corner of the room and pressing a button with a green thumb. The whirring of gears could be heard as a record was lowered into place, the needle lowering to scrape and hiss against the coiled grooves before music began to softly play. (( ))Suddenly the Proprietor leaned forward over his desk, locking eyes with Smiles as smoke vented from his nostrils like a Dragon, the Goblin’s features still shadowed but for the glow of his cigar, which continued to smolder like a furnace, “I know what you are”. The Goblin waved an almost scolding finger his way before continuing, “A Ghost”. “Superstitious are we?” Smiles quirked his head in seeming amusement, “I’m flesh and blood enough to burn, aren’t I?” “Don’t play dumb”, the old Goblin snapped, “I know something worth seeing when I see it, and I remember seeing it”. The Proprietor leaned back into his chair; disappearing into the shadow as he did so, when he spoke again his voice seemed to resonate from nowhere. “It was years ago… Before the wars… When what it meant to be a Trade Prince was fleeting and meaningless, there were dozens, hundreds perhaps… During the anarchy that ensued after our people began to wither and regress, before even the Trade Coalition took hold… trying times, chaotic times, it was then that I became strong, it was then that I first learned of your Death Squads… Ghosts… Their worth… Their potential…” To be Continued…
  8. All interesting concepts. I encourage you all to press forth your ideas and establish your selected guilds. Smiles is watching, and waiting.
  9. Quite contradictory to his personality, Smiles listens to a very upbeat variety of music, ranging from the 'golden age' of jazz and swing of the 1920s, 30s, 40s, & 50s all the way up to the 'Vietnam War Era' Rock & Roll and Funk Classics of the 60s' and to the very verge of the early 70s. Strangely enough for a Goblin though, his musical-opinions of the 'Disco club' Scene of the 70s and Metal movement a bit later are quite sour. And he harbors an especially evident hate for just about everything afterwards, namingly Hip Hop and Rap of the 80s & 90s. In regards to what his top 5 Favorite tunes? Hard to say considering the broadness of his tastes, but heres a few good ones to get an idea of what he's got playing in his gasmask's internal radio while he's skinning you alive: , 'Long Tall Sally' by Little Richard
  10. I sincerely hope that everyone will kindly pardon my choice of language in replying to this, it shall be simple and well thought-out, but like all of my posts it will be vague and require the reader to have done an agonizingly extensive amount of homework in order to explain what exactly I'm writing[talking about]. So, without further delay, my response is as follows: FUCK. That is all, thank you kindly.
  11. <p>In regards to your demand for a sequel, if you take note, you will notice that all my stories lead into one another.</p>

  12. <p>Cute sig.</p>

    <p><3 Cheney</p>

  13. <p>hahahahaha yes the infamous gas mask of Smiles Macblaster!!!!!!!!</p>