Forgotten Mains

Our guild leader and I have, for the most part, ignored the characters that we are probably most known for: my rogue, Embalmo the Undead Clown, and Fallacy, the sappable tauren shaman.

My guild note for some time has been “engineered himself a rocking chair”, and that’s fairly accurate; Embalmo is living the life retired, enjoying his well-earned rest. But this weekend, we were joking on Vent that Embalmo and Fallacy have become the Statler and Waldorf of Orgrimmar, two cranky old farts complaining about, well, everything.

Embalmo: Thrall-damned kids, always dropping crap into the guild bank.

Fallacy: What?

Embalmo: The guild bank. They put crap in it.

Fallacy: You crapped yourself? There’s some silk cloth in my bag.

Embalmo: No, no, crap, in the guild money-storing thing. With tabs. And stuff that you put into tabs.

Fallacy: What? Crap in the guild bank? Back in my day, we didn’t crap in anybody’s bank, it just wasn’t done.

Embalmo: *tinkers with his hearing aid trinket*

Fallacy: Back in my day, we tied onions on our belts, which was the style at the time.

Embalmo: What?

Fallacy: What?

Embalmo: PANTSWEAVE! I need pantsweave pantschants!

Fallacy: *startled, casts Bloodlust*

 

 

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