As emotionless as ever, she drones, “I am the Punmaster, Master of Puns. Some of you I met just a month ago, under the boughs of these very trees. Others of you I am meeting for the first time. Greetings.” She inclines her head. “Just like last I was here, I do not bring puns; I bring stories. I collect them, you see; they are like blood, bringing joy, lessons and life to all who hear. For that reason, I am all too eager to share a story with the group of fearmongering vagabonds I see before me.”
She pauses here, grinning to herself. “Apologies to those who have heard this introduction before. I would be loathe not to let the new ones know how blackened my soul is.”
Another pause, but this one is prolonged. She’s still grinning – the only thing visible in the shadows beneath her hood.
“Once, I was in a world far away – one no one on Azeroth would know, except perhaps a few of your tormented draenei. This world was known for its vast oceans, which stretched farther and wider than any you have here.
“On this world was a man who lived in a house by the shore. It was quite quaint, as not many lived in this region, and he was of modest means. It was a peaceful life.
“But from time to time, usually around sunset, he would hear a call. The voice sounded like it belonged to a woman of his own kind, but it was echoing and dissonant, half a call for help and half a shriek of torment. It came from the direction of the ocean, which was unnerving because despite the ocean’s size, this man and his people were land-dwellers. Who among his kind would survive for so long out there?
“This man became convinced that someone needed help. He had two adult daughters who visited often, and one day, he took them to the shore to hear this harrowing voice. The tormented cry thrummed across the waters, but the daughters merely shared an odd look. They could not hear it.
“Fearing that some dark spell was afoot, his daughters warned him not to chase after this voice, but he was spellbound.
“At first, his daughters’ reasoning was enough. They set up a few protective spells, and he agreed to ignore the voice. But he became hard to control again in just a few days. The daughters took turns staying at his house to watch over him, and once again, it worked for a while. But then he became violent, and the daughters had to bind him to the wall, his wrists and ankles in restraints.
“Clearly, they could not expect to solve this problem by keeping their father restrained forever, so they made a solemn agreement. They would accompany him out to sea, and they would find the source of this voice, their magic at the ready to protect him.
“So out they sailed. Their father was sweating and shaking. His fingers tightened and loosened and tightened again along the rim of the boat. When he spoke, it was in fervent mutters, and the only thing he could manage to say clearly was how important it was that they reach the source of this voice. His daughters were worried sick.
“They had not sailed even 100 feet from the shore when the father threw himself overboard. His daughters screamed and did all they could to retrieve him, but their spells seemed to slide off his body like water off the feathers of a duck, repelled by some strange force. He was gone.
“Time passed. The daughters grieved. New people came to the shore and left.
“And then the Legion came.”
A wicked grin spreads beneath her hood.
“This world wasn’t as lucky as yours, for truly, Azeroth is a pearl among grains of sand. This world was completely decimated. Even right now, as I speak to you, at this very moment, there is not a single soul left alive on that planet. The fires of the Legion melted all the ice gathered at the poles, and the oceans became so filled with water that they consumed all the land. The planet is one big ocean now, full of blood.
“But there is still a call. An echoing, dissonant, tormented cry for help. But this one is not female. No, it is the cry of a man.”
She pauses here. Her shadowy face turns downward, pensive, and then it rises to meet the eyes of her audience again. “That would be a good enough place for the story to end, wouldn’t it? That is scary enough. But no – the truth gets much, much worse. Because you see, I know what the voice was.”
Her grin becomes so wide and wicked that even her serrated teeth can be seen behind her lips.
“There was a curse. Millennia ago, an evil person was cursed to be forever alone beneath the waves, trapped in a small space, with a body so pale and decomposing that he looked like no more than a ghoul. His skin was bleached white and oozing, slippery to the touch. Truly a slug of a creature.
“But he was crafty and cunning, and he knew there was one way for his soul to escape this tormented body: he would have to force another soul into it.
“So he would call and call and call, hoping that someone would come. And finally, someone did. He tore their soul out of their body and stuffed it inside the white, slimy hunk of flesh that he had been forced to occupy, and his soul was finally able to move on.
“And so began the cycle. Every few decades, someone else would be lured beneath the waves, and their soul would be trapped within this body so that the other could move on. It was an ugly cycle, and not one tormented soul was selfless enough to accept this torment forever.
“But I ask you all: what happens when there isn’t anyone left?”
She looks around the group, almost as if waiting for an answer. She continues in a dark rasp, so quiet that the group would have to lean in to hear.
“As I speak to you, right now, at this very moment, that man is trapped in that husk beneath the waves, calling for someone to save him. But there is no one left on that planet. The Legion has killed them all, and all souls that weren’t captured by those wicked demons have moved on. He alone is there, cursed to a life of entrapment and solitude forever.”
She bows her head and clasps her hands together. For the first time, it looks like the Punmaster could actually be praying.
“Let that be a lesson to you: when the Legion arrives at your doorstep, never relent. Thank you for your time.”
