Twenty four hours ago, the TransTyrian Postal Service had its biggest hiccup since the accidental combustion of all letters containing the word ‘bookah’. During this crisis, the Postal Service managed to deliver every single letter sent over the past week to GuildMag Head Quarters in Lion’s Arch. Naturally, we were all surprised when we had to fight our way through the front door being held shut by piles of letters, using Konig Des Todes’ head as a battering ram. We emerged to see our entire head quarters filled to the rafters with letters of all shapes and sizes, and I for one was rather surprised to see Dutch Sunshine’s head poking through the top of the pile; he’d been buried alive working late into the night when the onslaught had begun.
And what was the cause of such madness? Why, Valentine’s Day of course! The influx of letters being exchanged between loved ones became too much for the Postal Service to handle. So, to get our own back on those who send such letters that clog up the system, here’s a few that we opened…
Letter #1 – From what we can decipher, this one comes from a young male asura.
To Flix – the only girl I wouldn’t use my blasting rod against
I write this letter as a labour of my increasingly warm tolerance towards you. I could simply tell you all this through my marvellous adaptation on Snaff’s cephalolithopathic technology where thoughts can travel between our brilliant asuran minds – but I won’t. It has been years since I had to put anything to paper myself; that ignorant apprentice of mine should be doing this for me!
But back to you… Your ears are the longest I have ever seen, and your eyes the widest this side of Rata Sum. Each day I think about how you have the potential to one day be as truly outstanding as I am, and if that day comes, I shall be there to share your glory forever – by your side, always. If I was not dedicated to my work, our relationship is so intense I would take serious consideration in dedicating my life to you.
My Flix, my darling… I may almost like you.
P.S. Remember to tell that apprentice to organise my papers – I don’t want to come back to a disorganised laboratory yet again!
Letter #2 – The original letter was full of holes, tears and claw marks. We assume it’s from a charr.
They call me Alura Spellward; I was a legionnaire of the Blood Legion… that is, until I saw you. Those fools now class me as a gladium for abandoning my warband simply to come and find you. I care not for those walking carpets; all I want is to feel the warmth of your fur. I couldn’t continue knowing you didn’t even know I existed. I now wander, alone, searching for you… waiting.
I’m your biggest fan. But I forget my place. SIR! Be my commander – I will obey your every word. I will destroy any enemy, protect you from harm… even start a new warband with you, should you wish. Let us fight together, side by side for the rest of our days.
If you take away only one thing from reading this letter, let it be this: Rytlock, don’t listen to the other foolish cubs; you’re puurrfect.
– Alura Spellward
Letter #3 – This one came presented on a folded leaf. No guesses for who sent this…
Since the day I awakened into the world, I have been drawn to you. In the Dream I felt a connection to something beyond the Tree, and I now know this was, and still is, you. Is this love? What is love? How can I love a being that embraces the Nightmare? Am I even capable of love? So many questions, so little foliage…
I’m sitting on a rock as I write this. Do I love it? It’s rubbing against my rear – I don’t love that. Even if I were to love it, I don’t think it would love me; I’d probably be sitting on its face after all. Above me is the sun. Do I love that? I can’t look at it without burning my eyes, so no, probably not. Oh no, I’m running out of room on this leaf… I think I’ll end it there. This is boring me and I have nothing more to say.
Letter #4 – A good ol’ fashioned human love letter now.
Cheers for the drinks. Same time next week?
Letter #5 – We saved the biggest until last; this one had handwriting the size of an asura!
By the Bear, you consume ale like a sober wurm hunter, Sivir!
If I weren’t so drunk already, I’d come over to where you’re sitting right now and challenge you to a drinking contest myself, but as it stands I’m just going to ask Halbron to give you this letter instead whilst he’s also sending one to my mother. I hope the blithering fool gets them the right way round; he’s always far too drunk to do much except dribble onto his beard. Which now you mention it, I appear to be doing whilst staring at you… NO I DON’T NEED TO SLOW DOWN ON THE FLASKS, HALBRON!
But back to your voluptuous… erm, your bow. Your skills are unmatched, and together we could slay a thousand Kodan with room for Jormag himself! For the honour of all, let us go to battle! We will line them up and knock them down on the double! I will sharpen my axe in preparation for this glory! Damn, I just sliced my finger on it… oh no. Halbron, quick. I can’t stand the sight of blood. I think… I think I’m about to pass…
Miss Sivir, Tharon asked me (Halbron) to add this message on to the end of his letter before he passed out:
FETCH THE ALE!
Tharon (and somewhat Halbron)
So, the next time you consider sending a heart-warming letter to your loved one via the TransTyrian Postal Service, think again. We prefer to keep our team members at their desks rather than at 90 degrees to our front door.