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Bothersome, fodder-some.
((Ladies and gentlemen, what happens when Varyis accidentally a ton of alcohol.
The Blood Elf was tired.

The Blood Elf was in the middle of nowhere. She had a massive headache, and looked like a mess. Shouldn't have let that hair grow to reach down to the middle of her hair. And where on the earth did that crazy dog of hers run off to? Whoever knew? Varyis just knew she was a long way from home...or society.

"...How drunk did I get last night?" She asked herself, dragging her form up, and collecting the sanguine colored katana that laid on the ground, and her rifle. Oh, joy. It had sand in it. Well, at least I still have my bow with me. That thought ran through the elf's head, yes, she had her bow with her, as well as a quiver full of arrows. Frankly, she had gotten a bit rusty. Let's rectify that mistake, shall we?
Perhaps it is your imperfection that which grants you free will, that allows you to persevere against cosmically calculated odds. You prevailed where the Titans' own perfect creations have failed.

- Algalon, The Observer

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i am sea-bass

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