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Puzzicola's Operatic Epic
An Opera written in c450 by the absolutely insane Puzzicola D'Ramblon, whose prolific amount of prolific works spans most of the history of Battal even though Puzzicola himself died before most of it happened.
It lasts approximately three years, with two intermissions, one after each year.
During the fight scenes the original script calls for the actors to actually die, and during the intermissions (which each cut out ten years of the story) for the actors to age.
As it is such a long and bizarre piece, filled with ancient forgotten languages (some say even "I`mageenary") it is required for all neophyte High Elemenstors to learn it backwards and forwards.
Some say that this is just a tactic by their mentors to get the neophytes out of their hair, others argue that this is the reason why many High Elemenstors are so weird.
Act 146 Scene 353
Ramona and Ch'bret enter a field of battle, empty save for the skulls of their fallen countrymen.
Ramona: I dunna know Ch'bret, for I am but a lost serving girl wh'ithin these woods o' mystical delight, providence, and chance.
Ch'bret: Forsooth! Maiden, dost thee not know from whence yee came!?
Ramona: Tis true, Oh Handsomely Gallant saviour of mine bosom!! I know not! I know not! I know not! (descends into wimpering)
Ch'bret: (striking a masculine pose) Fear not, waste not, want not! Mine love interest, mine damsel, hear the call of your man upon the empty skulls waxing and waning in the shores of eternity; upon the breaths that our countrymen shall never again take; upon the rampant misuse of the monstrosities that hack away at the sinew of freedom. YES! I dare quote the knave whom did utter against all hope in the final years of the Vampyric Wars, and utter he did that hope was not lost, fate was not sealed, Vhadxi was immortal but not undying. And neither are we. Neither are our friends. Neither, our foes. (pensively stares at the ground at his feet, then the cleavage of Ramona's bosom)
(Enter D'affodil and Kormichal)
Kormichal: Upon my salty, sweaty, overacting brow. What have we here?!
D'affodil: It appears a pair of pickled peppers.
Kormichal: She sells sea shells by the sea-shore.
D'affodil: A skunk sat on a stump and thunk the stump stunk--
Kormichal: --But the stump thunk the skunk stunk!
Ch'bret: Lollygagging ne'erdowells! My Enchanted Blade of Overcompensation will taste your blood!
D'affodil: Alay! I am slain!
Kormichal: I say the nay! Death becomes me!
Exuent
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