The Dreamers: A Play of Playing

By Mr. Bohemian

“I am that merry walker of the Dream.” — Prince Puck, The Green

The Emerald Dream is an ethereal, untouched realm of the planet Azeroth. Nature, dragons, and wisps, grow, gather, and gander in the Great Garden. Prince Puck, the heir of the Dream's Dreamer, is dispatched to "Brown Azeroth" in an attempt to locate the source of his shaman's maddening migraines.

“My doctor says if I dream too hard, he’ll have to ‘reconstitute’ my medications.” — Sire Jenkins

When the members of the guild < Memes For Life > aren't loitering by the Goldshire mailbox, they're questing courageously for a scrumptious scoop of nostalgia. From cotton candy to bubblegum, Silvermoon to Dalaran, no drake or drudgery can stop their candied color-rush.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mr. Bohemian
• Release date: Mar 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370031573

Mr. Bohemian

My name is Bob Bohemian. I am an actor and playwright. I love to live through theater art. Joyously generated in Chicago. My art includes themes from Everything to Nothing. Philosophy and art combine for the sublime. Mr. Bohemian

Book preview

This is a read-only script to compliment the free machinima. No public or private performance rights are released with this script. World of Warcraft names, artifacts, and locations are Blizzard Entertainment property. Storyline dreamt by Mr. Bohemian.

Certain aspects of canon lore were altered for this fan fiction .

Copyright © 2018 The Cotillion by Mr. Bohemian www.TheCotillion.dance All rights reserved. Select icons produced by Freekpik on flaticon.com. Large illustrations produced by toonytoons @ fiverr.com

Stage 1

Level 1

Level 10

Level 20

Level 30

Stage 2

Level 40

Level 50

Level 60

Level 70

Stage 3

Level 80

Level 90

Level 100

Level 110

Stage 4

Level 120

Level 130

Level 140

Level 150

REM

Level 160

Level 170

Level 180

Level 190

Level 200

< The New Accord >

Puck

Peacebloom

Tick

Tock

< Memes For Life >

Sire Jenkins

Huntress Helena

Observer Oston

Cleric Clo

< Les Baes >

Effeminancer Emoish

Smuggler Smiley

Cutter Cutiekiss

Millhouse Manastorm

< The Twilight Terrors >

Yami

Grief

Durer

< The Guardians >

Alexstrasza

Victostrasz

Azuregos

Chromie

Ysera

Dishu

< The Gamemasters >

Gnomestomper

Elfslicer

Orcpuncher

Trollbasher

Taurentipper

< The Whelps >

Kira Songshine, Presto Pete,

Tong, Tenzing, Pi, Po, Pu,

OmniPast, OmniPause, OmniPost,

Allegretos, Andantemu, Vivacimi,

Azshara, Servio, Harry, Drakonid,

Flargle, Gargle, Sid,

Mimiron, Flower, Madam Goya,

Beebo, Millificent Manastorm,

Brewmaiden

***

( Ashenvale music. Curtain down. )

Dishu: This was a world born in warcraft. Since her first seeds, she’s had to fight for her soil. The elemental lords, the hated unholies, both bound and banished to the ridges of reality. The universal Titans of stone and order moved her mountains and settled her seas. The Great Well churned; life sprang forth. Peace would come, and her children would name her: Azeroth.

Dishu: Never forgetting disorder’s conquest, the Titans built cities and constructs to safeguard and facilitate. The world’s soul was dreaming, and soon they had been content to let the mortals wake her up. Before balancing new planets, the Titan design was stamped to guide a growing world, the Dragonflights.

Dishu: Regrettably, there is not enough breath in my lungs to tell of the tales of dragonhood. From canon to rumor, history to huffery, it’s too much for one tongue at one time. Our lords have blessed as they have blasted, lost as they have lasted. Every conflict out of many has taken a piece from the Great Guardians. Like an aged parent to a growing child, they are tapered and exhausted through the miles of their mission. In the hour of cataclysm, The Wyrmrest Accord relinquished their most precious power: immortality, to rid the world of a bombast brother. In the calming calamity, they had become like their nurslings and entered their final years as mortal beings.

Dishu: My name is Dreamcatcher Dishu, shaman amongst the Cenarion Circle: a band of druids that walk with nature. It has been my quest to learn to walk with them. Though the elements show me their concord, the hymn of harmony is sung sweetest by my Lady’s closest kin. They walk within the Emerald Dream: a copy of Azeroth untouched by undoing. No forests have been cut here, no dams have been built, no grass has been stained. Every flourished flower has had her petals painted in the Dream. My Lady Ysera, Queen of the Green and Dreamer of the Dream, lead the land while the land lead her.

( Ysera screams offstage in torture. )

Dishu: But the cycle has been broken. Years past the day that Elune had shed her tear for the Greenmother, something gross grows in the garden. None of the other walkers can hear it.

( Ysera screams. )

Dishu: I had thought this agony to be left with the Legion, nullified with the Nightmare. What is this echo? Their rebirth I have imagined, but never could they reach us in the Golden Eye, less the Dream collapse and we along with it.

( Ysera screams. Curtain up. )

( A beat. )

Dishu: The family flights have met their ends, but could their dreams endure?

( Dishu moves upstage. Puck is sleeping. )

Dishu: Good morning, Prince Puck.

( A beat. Dishu prepares Puck’s room with breakfast and luggage. )

Dishu: Prince Puck?

( A beat. )

Dishu: Young Lord, I have set for you the bravest breakfast. Your dragonhawk dumplings are getting gunky.

( A beat. )

Puck: No.

Dishu: A dreamer’s end is morning’s making. Today is your journey to the waking world.

Puck: Does the waking world have dryads in dozens, ready with moonberry juice and savory sugarplums for me?

Dishu: Nothing at hand but the royal responsibilities of a new king.

Puck: Then goodnight, adieu.

( Dishu moves to the bed. He plants his staff between Puck and his mattress to lever him out of bed. )

( Down topples Puck. )

Puck: Okay!

( A beat. )

Puck: What is the reason for your servitude? None of the other druids can boil my tea. They couldn’t cast a fire spell without crying over the bark that burns.

( Dishu startles Puck by whacking his staff on nearby furniture. )

Puck: Okay!

Dishu: Only your servant, boy? In this duty, I have the fortitude of your father. Since you were an eggling have I been here for you. With my two hands did I spare you from the Nightmare clutch. In my two hands did you hatch from your egg. Have you no respect for your dreamcatcher, your life hatcher?

( A beat. )

Puck: I’m sorry, Master Dishu, I’m rough when ripped from reverie.

Dishu: Wake up, young king.

( A beat. )

Dishu: How are the dumplings?

Puck: Good.

( Ysera Screams. A beat. )

Dishu: I heard the fathomless scares of your mother again.

Puck: I’d say it’s the woes of veteran druids filling the dreamscape with their marked memories.

Dishu: Most ferals left the Dream during the Nightmare War. You may know well that ferals don’t meditate.

Puck: They do, for the term is, hi-ber-na-tion.

( A beat. )

Dishu: I hear your mother’s voice of languish. The spirit she sought to hide you from.

Puck: No bloody beings beheld; a wisp can never lie. Where is this war but within your head?

Dishu: When on the relay to the sister flights we may know for sure. Is your wisp ready for Brown Azeroth?

Puck: The druids have tutored me to tears on her history. Death and decay with life and living sharing the same palette. The Well, the Portal, the pretties versus uglies: war and famine, pain and suffering, the birds and the bees, every blade of grass a lesson, etcetera.

( A beat. )

Dishu: Yes, that is reality in brief.

Puck: Reality? I thought this was reality.

Dishu: This is reality.

Puck: