[Dumb Fantasy Cliche Post]

[whoslaughingmeow]

[Hello.

I really hope you weren't like, enjoying the silence or anything.

Because be it in a tavern, in the center of a marketplace by a fancy fountain, or even out in the wilderness You are not safe.

Because there's a cat in full bardic ware performing.]

Copper's good for making things,
But hardly fit for kings or popes.
Silver's good for chains and rings,
And also killing lycanthropes.
Electrum is a novelty,
But seems to lack a certain flair.
Platinum shines regally,
Nobility beyond compare.
Mithril is a magic ore,
So bright and difficult to scratch.
Gems that sparkle, I adore,
In jewelry that can have no match.
But for a catfolk's happiness,
There's one more thing that I require;
One more thing I must possess,
To feed the flames of my desire.
Gold, I love the gleaming!
Gold, of you I'm dreaming!
I can't be happy 'til I've rolled
In piles and piles of shining gold!
Ha ha ha, ha ha!

[Granted he's.. tolerable. But it's probably inconceivable of enjoying it unless you either have a few in you, or have abysmally shitty taste.]

Comments

[fistallday]

'tis nay the worst song I've heard outta a mouth. Heard better comin' outta an arse, though.

[whoslaughingmeow]

A donkey or literally.

[fistallday]

The arse of a donkey!

[ The giant 7'7" man(?)'s laugh is booming, like rumbling thunder. ]

[whoslaughingmeow]

[Jesus Christ.]

Aha..

[fistallday]

Don' make tha' kind o' face, Miqo'te. I cannae lead the life o' the bard. All hot air comin' from this mountain 'ere.

[whoslaughingmeow]

It does take a special sort.

[The kind with a throat full of razor blades.]

[fistallday]

The special sort tha' sits in the back on their bloody harp while I climb into the beast's gullet and work me way back out.

[ Chuckling, amused. ]

[whoslaughingmeow]

...I offer moral support!

[fistallday]

Never said ye did nae do tha'! Me bard friends are good at that. Keep me at me best.

[whoslaughingmeow]

Exactly.