Despite the momentous efforts, the fate of our civilized society, our world, hangs in the balance. Our forces are stretched thin, and it is becoming impossible to stave off the barbarians at the gate.
We must once again sound the horns, so that our compatriots far and wide can heed the call for assistance. Let the bambi-killers from DayZ and Rust, the Stranglethorn Vale campers from WoW, and Felucca’s gankers sleeping in their barrows waiting to rise again, all come to our aid in this darkest of hours. Winter might be coming, but the casuals are already here, and the Catalyst’s cockpit is empty.
I ride for battle now, friend. I will do what I can, what I must, to keep the enemy at bay long enough for the banners of our brethren to cast shadows over the horizon. But if I do not make it through this…tell Epeen’s wife I love her.
I not only got an actual belly laugh out of this, but got a second one on the re-read. That’s literally contributing to the physical health of anyone who reads Destiny’s post. (Well anyone with a sense of humor, anyway.)
Your path is clear, the gauntlet has been thrown, destiny awaits… you must now write the next EVE novel!