Write the damn post.
No, you’re not. You’re sulking.
‘scowls’ No one asked you.
Actually, you did. Who was the one to take the title of Drow Bard without my consent? And the one to decide he just had to do SOMETHING about his nagging boredom?
No. Now are you writing this, or am I?
Fine, you write it. Pesky Drow. And stop smirking at me.
Well, I win. I’ll smirk when I like. Listen, I can’t make much sense of you humans, or this world of Earth I now find myself dropped in. I do find myself amused enough by your technology to play around with it, though, and I’ve approached Raidon with a proposal. He provides the physical apparatus necessary, and I’ll mock the lot of you and your quirks on that internet video site…let me look it up. Ah, yes, YouTube. Raidon, give me the mouse. Now.
I was just-
I don’t care. You wanted me to write this, and I am.
I’m writing the rest. You’re not nice at all.
No one pays me to be nice. Well, perhaps once or twice. Most of the time they pay me to kill people.
You really shouldn’t just announce that on the internet.
Because now several million people throughout the world can read it, and the only reason I’m NOT incriminated in those crimes is they occurred in entirely different realities.
So why are you worrying?
Just…Stop volunteering that in your case Bard actually means Assassin? Please?
No. Now go sit down and have a drink, human. I’m writing. For the rest of you humans still staring at this page, wondering who the handsome devil pictured above is, well, that would be me. For now, you may call me the Drow Bard, the Drow, the Bard, or any combination of those three. If I decide I like this reality enough, I may just stay. If that turns out to be the case, I might tell you my name. Might. That said, now that he’s managed to do an entire day of sulking, he seems to have his ambition back – about time – but I don’t feel like letting him tell you about this Friday. After all, it was my idea.
See, I’m going to use this internet thing for a little thought experiment. As I said before, I’ll mock the lot of you, and we shall see how many of you end up hating me for it, and how many of you end up enjoying it. Until I get bored, of course. For now, have a pleasant day, and remember, those who look for death from behind, meet it from the front.
(One final note. I must thank Shay Nemrow of PeelArt for the dashing rendition they managed of me. Perfection, if I do say so myself.)