Originally Posted by
DBlackKnight
I know why the twinks have died. I know where their heads have fallen. I know, too, what myriad sores torment their flesh and which demons stalk their souls. I know, and I could tell you, but first I must apologize.
I, too, have been a shadow in the night, unseen, unheard and unspoken. My guild, you see, has been building their level 60 army in preparation for an excursion into the Molten Core. As it's Knight, I was bound to Lilyandra and tasked to solve the mystery of Blackwing's Lair. I have been, so far, unsuccessful, but that is all beside the point.
DBlackKnight - my namesake - still draws breath, as do many other Monsters that once traversed this realm. We sleep and dream and wonder. What to do when the horde no longer queues? How to organize a raid when so many are invited but so few arrive? How to find our comrades in arms when the World is rife with strife, when attitudes writhe and tempers flare and guildmasters who share the same goals undermine each other, winning nothing?
In my lonely wanders I've heard many rumors, some true, others folly itself. These wretched words serve only to fracture and segment, crumble and destroy our beloved art. Every twink wishes to be a guildmaster but in the end, there can only be one. How to defy discord and appease them all?
And so we sleep and dream and wonder while all that could be ours rots beneath the Sun.
Summon me and I will answer, for the glory of <Monsters Inc. > and for the supremacy of The Alliance. Until then I shall remain Lilyandra, and I will solve the riddle of Blackwing's Lair that those whom she serves might enter unscathed.
Know, too, that my loyalty will never waver for, so long as we are a collective, <We Are Borg>, and against us, resistance is futile.