Okay, time to dip into the ol’ mailbag. You all know how this works, so here we go…

Dear Warchief,

Thank you so much for your generous response. Lyssa was so happy that she got a little frisky, which always makes me happy, you know what I mean. 😉 (She is a cat most of the time, after all.) I sympathize with your frustrations due to expenditures- having been a mother myself once (back when I was still “alive”, though not anymore, may the Goddess curse that human Arthas), I know all about the kinds of bills teens can ring up. (You really do need huge heaping mounds of gold. Like, a dragon’s hoard worth.)

In appreciation, please find enclosed your very own PMS device. It is soft and fluffy and purrs very convincingly, and it may prove a distraction for Shayari as well, if she likes kittens. (Especially if it is wearing a bow or ribbons.)

PMS? That stands for Personal Mylune Survival device. Why? What did you think it meant?

In any event, having been told that the idiot human Varian sometimes reads these letters and your responses, I have a message for him.

Varian- Fuck you! You are a moron- when a ten-thousand year old-plus matriarch (that means ruler) of an entire race of people (two, if you count my ancestors) nods and asks you to tell her what to do, she is NOT SERIOUS, she is MOCKING YOU. Do you really think that you have seen more combat, acquired more experience, discovered more tactics, and learned more strategy than her in all her years? She even only tolerates Malfurion (on the rare occasions when he stops napping) because his furry bear feet keep her toes warm- she has plenty of other options in a nation where the men usually and regularly go into comas for centuries.

From TWO Elven nations: FUCK YOU, VARIAN! (Also, I think Mylune would be a perfect wife for you. Or maybe Magatha.)

(Apologies to you, Dear Warchief, I’ll try to keep it shorter next time, if there is one)

–Sintra E’Drien (and her mate Lyssa Nightblossom)

ps. Thalassian Brandy tastes very good. 😉

Hey again, Sintra. Okay, so you know what? There were a bunch of things in this letter that I was going to respond to, but they all kind of got lost in this big blur of FUCK YOU, VARIAN. Especially the part about Tyrande Who’s-Her-Whisper actually mocking ol’ King Ponytail when he thinks he’s being all badass and shit. And the part about him being a moron. And the part about him getting paired off with Mylune. Mind you, if miracles of entertainment happened and Varian DID get himself hitched to Mylune, we’d have to make sure that nobody hooked him up with one of those PMS devices, because we can’t rob ourselves of the hilarity by letting Varian distract her with something small and furry. Plus, trust me, I’ve met Varian — dude has enough PMS all by himself, without anybody sending him the anti-Mylune device.

Although, this does occur to me, there might be a market in developing a line of anti-whoever gear. Like the Mylune one is a no-brainer — make something small and furry that makes cutesy purring noises, then when you see Mylune, toss it one direction and get your ass moving in another. Golden. But you could totally market a bunch of these. Like you could build an anti-Tirion device that’s like a mannequin with a face that looks all interested, that plays a recording of someone going “Tell me more! I want to hear all about it!” Or you could do an anti-Velen device that’s just a big sign that says “Burning Legion invading — planetary exit this way!” Or you could do an anti-Magatha device that basically consists of Gorehowl chopping her into little tiny pieces because fuck her.

Obviously, I’m just spitballing here.

Oh, and also: agreed on the Thalassian Brandy.

Greetings, Warchief, and Light’s blessing to you!

As that last letter caused quite a stir, what with a possible war on my hands, as well as having to use an ink substitute (it’s scorpion poison, so don’t lick it!) I’m afraid that I cannot convey quite as much information onto you as I would like. But, as literal a lady as I may be, I have picked up the hints and I have no doubt that this is exceptionally great news to you! Nonetheless, I still have time to explain the situation before I begin.

I have my ways and means regarding paper, the first being the nearby logging camp. Did you know that place was infested with spiders quite a bit, recently? Now, I am a woman of few fears, and I am hesitant to say that spiders are among those few fears. They just have too many legs. The natives of Azeroth have proven that only two is necessary! Not to mention they have no real function other than devour more threatening prey, but even so, that’s disgusting and they are as good as abberations to me. Nonetheless, the spiders have been vanquished and our lumber is safe again! Not that it never was, of course. I simply no longer fear strolling down and requesting more wood for paper! Since the Kal’dorei have no authorities over the wood in the Western Plaguelands, I think I shouldn’t have to worry too much about a war. As a precaution, I asked both my lovely Anaria Moonseeker and Miss L’Rayne why the forests were so sacred to them. They both laughed and I never really got my answer. Of course, we were all after a few cups at the time, so I might try approaching them again when we’re sober. Nothing against my fellow Crusader or my sweet lady, not to mention the woman who raised me, but Night Elves are a peculiar people. Mind you, if they started ravaging Eversong Woods, I’d be miffed. I also am aware that this may draw the Night Elves’ attention back to yourself, but I’m sure you have the means to deal with it. After all, there are several Horde leaders but only one Warchief!

As for the scorpion poison, well, there are ways of compressing that to make it more visible on paper. It’s the same colour as the ink that I used before, thanks to a solution Anaria prepared, but it can still be toxic if you were to eat it. Since I’ve used it quite finely, you may simply experience some disorientation or sickness, but I don’t see that that being a problem, unless you eat paper. I just thought I’d let you in on that, in case you DID eat paper. Who am I to judge the Warchief’s culinary preferences? This piece of paper would be better off being tucked away and not eaten. I still have a fine stock of that scorpion poison, so now it’s only a matter of keeping the lumber mill going! I thought that this would be sufficient as a substitute for the ink that is slowly becoming less obtainable. I hope that the lovely young shaman Rue’kara can get her stationaries back soon! How unfortunate that her own letters are limited to such a pulp. She probably has so much to say, poor child. Anyhow! That’s that, and all problems solved!

It would seem a certain metal-beared goblin had quite a bit to say regarding my letters to you, sir. I, for one, am irate, but the ways of the Light have taught me that anger and resentment will only lead to a manifestation of regret and ever-building hatred, so I will bury the hatchet for now and try not to reference said goblin while the Light grants me the strength to repress such hatred. While this anger is still surging mightily, I have to agree on one point that he made; I haven’t really been of much help, have I?

Well, even though I was not present, I know of your visits to Hearthglen through the town chatter, even though I was oblivious of the events that were taking place. See, I was travelling at the time, which I tend to do every few months or so, and when I came back, I did notice a sort of difference. A kind of hush, as though I’d just arrived after a tragic event had taken place. I felt inclined to ask the Highlord, and I did, but even he was at a loss for words, and that is truly saying something. I mean, really. Time travel is…something I am somewhat familiar with. That being said, I know of a bronze dragon, although the identity is to be kept secret for her sake. I haven’t actually travelled backwards through time, nor forwards, but I visited the Caverns of Time, and I saw some of the rifts here and there pulling and tugging, as though the place felt a turn when I entered it. Somehow, I feel slightly connected to it. It’s a sensation that I cannot describe well, but there’s a familiarity about it that I am trying to make sense of, as though I’d been there before. Maybe an alternate me? Wow, I wonder what she does for a living. My bronze friend gave me a little information on how time works, and how she’s travelled on it previously, but as you may have learned, bronze dragons are as cryptic as any old soothsayer or rambling prophet, (which is extremely annoying since they might actually have ANSWERS for us, whereas prophets just ramble on and on and on…) and since I can’t get any answers from her regarding that particular feeling, I have dropped the matter entirely and haven’t been there since. Still, I’ve never stopped wondering…

While this is irrelevant to what you and this doctor Faranell you mentioned had to experience, I simply want to extend a warning, given everything I have learned thus far through my readings of history. The Old Gods corrupted one Aspect, Deathwing, but he was not the only one that was used to their advantage. The Old Gods want nothing more than to see our world in endless agony, and so they invaded Nozdormu’s realm and succeeded in opening a rift in time, so that they could alter the events of the War of the Ancients and give the dark lord, Sargeras, a fresh attempt to enter the world. If not for the efforts of Malfurion Stormrage, these cursed entities would have succeeded, and Azeroth would have been lost to madness. The Bronze Dragonflight are a mighty race, sir, but we all have our weaknesses, even Nozdormu himself. Had he suspected such a travesty, he surely would have prevented it.

We know that there are multiple timelines out there, and we know that, without the assistance of the Bronze Dragonflight, the events of the entwined timeways wouldn’t have been resolved. Be wary, good sir. You must place your trust in those you know can be trusted, and no-one else. If the Bronze Dragonflight fell to the same corruption as Neltharion, our world would be undone as you know it. After all, Algalon had already decided that it wasn’t worth saving. Let us prove him wrong. Let us protect Azeroth as best we can.

With regards to being of any use to you, I’d merely have you know that I do not plan on leaving Hearthglen for quite some time, so should you decide to make a visit in the meantime, know that I shall stand at your service and grant you the hospitality which you seek. It’s the least I can do. Thank you for your time.

P.S Did you really get a Zandaliri troll to perform a lapdance for you? How much did it cost?

Go in peace, good sir.

–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade

Hoo boy. Here we go.

Hello again, Sarlin. Nice to…hear from you. Again.

As that last letter caused quite a stir,

As in, people stirring up poisonous drinks to kill themselves with.

what with a possible war on my hands,

Well, you know, the many, many trees you’ve wiped out to make paper were only going to take so much.

as well as having to use an ink substitute (it’s scorpion poison, so don’t lick it!)

I really wonder what you think I do with my time that you felt this warning was necessary.

I’m afraid that I cannot convey quite as much information onto you as I would like.

Oh thank the spirits. Maybe we’ll manage to be in and out of here in less than a month.

Nonetheless, I still have time to explain the situation before I begin.

Well, so much for that idea. Here we go, kids. Grab a drink, and maybe a snack, and maybe the next two or three days’ meals, and strap in.

Did you know that place was infested with spiders quite a bit, recently? Now, I am a woman of few fears, and I am hesitant to say that spiders are among those few fears. They just have too many legs. The natives of Azeroth have proven that only two is necessary!

Dude, I fucking hate spiders. They’re all gross and crawly and, like you said, they have way more legs than any self-respecting person should ever have, and let’s not even get started on the eyes. I fucking hate things with creepy extra eyes. Plus there was that time up in Stonetalon when the head troll dude in Malaka’jin told me there was some Queen Silith who wanted to meet with me, only GUESS WHAT, turns out she was this GIANT FUCKING SPIDER. LONG LIVE THE FUCKING QUEEN. Except for the part where I killed her.

As a precaution, I asked both my lovely Anaria Moonseeker and Miss L’Rayne why the forests were so sacred to them. They both laughed and I never really got my answer.

It’s the glitter. Night elves love them some glitter, and the trees in their forests leak the stuff like sap. Someday I want to find out just what the fuck is the deal with that, like what kind of trees ooze fucking GLITTER out of their bark, and why they only seem to grow around nigh elves.

I mean, I’m pretty sure Thalassian Brandy would like to know. She could have a personal supply of the stuff right there on hand.

As for the scorpion poison, well, there are ways of compressing that to make it more visible on paper. It’s the same colour as the ink that I used before, thanks to a solution Anaria prepared, but it can still be toxic if you were to eat it. Since I’ve used it quite finely, you may simply experience some disorientation or sickness, but I don’t see that that being a problem, unless you eat paper.

Wait… disorientation? You mean to say you can be HIGH on this shit? No wonder there are always so many trolls always hanging around the inscription place in the Drag.

I hope that the lovely young shaman Rue’kara can get her stationaries back soon! How unfortunate that her own letters are limited to such a pulp. She probably has so much to say, poor child.

Yeah, you know what? I think you’ve got the “so much to say” pretty well covered. Let’s not drag Ruekie into this.

It would seem a certain metal-beared goblin had quite a bit to say

Hi, pot. This is Sarlin. You’re black.

I, for one, am irate, but the ways of the Light have taught me that anger and resentment will only lead to a manifestation of regret and ever-building hatred,

The next time you two chat, could you ask the Light what the fuck it’s talking about?

I have to agree on one point that he made; I haven’t really been of much help, have I?

Oh geez, why do I get the feeling she’s about to start Dontragging? Like, even more?

I was travelling at the time, which I tend to do every few months or so, and when I came back, I did notice a sort of difference. A kind of hush, as though I’d just arrived after a tragic event had taken place. I felt inclined to ask the Highlord, and I did, but even he was at a loss for words, and that is truly saying something. I mean, really.

STOP THE FUCKING PRESSES, SHOCKING NEWS WITH AN IRONIC LOOK-WHO’S-TALKING CHASER

I haven’t actually travelled backwards through time, nor forwards, but I visited the Caverns of Time, and I saw some of the rifts here and there pulling and tugging, as though the place felt a turn when I entered it. Somehow, I feel slightly connected to it. It’s a sensation that I cannot describe well, but there’s a familiarity about it that I am trying to make sense of, as though I’d been there before. Maybe an alternate me? Wow, I wonder what she does for a living.

I’ll bet you anything she’s not a mime.

We know that there are multiple timelines out there, and we know that, without the assistance of the Bronze Dragonflight, the events of the entwined timeways wouldn’t have been resolved. Be wary, good sir.

Dude, are you seriously giving ME a speech on not getting mixed up in timeline fuck-uppery? Hey, I’ve got an idea, how about I get Faranell in here and you can give him a whole speech about making sure he doesn’t get himself unstuck in time for like a zillion years. Earth Online says hello:

With regards to being of any use to you, I’d merely have you know that I do not plan on leaving Hearthglen for quite some time,

Well at least I know where not to go for the next month or two.

Thank you for your time.

Well you fucking well burned up enough of it.

Speaking of which. When you write back — BECAUSE I KNOW YOU WILL — you are officially getting the modified Twitter treatment. Are you reading carefully? Go grab some of your not-for-snack-time paper and scorpion ink, and write this down: YOU ARE OFFICIALLY ON A 250-WORD LIMIT FOR ALL FUTURE LETTERS. Or, what the hell, if you want to go OVER 250 words, whatever, knock yourself out, but I am going to STOP READING at word #250. Are we clear on this? Are we good? Okay? Good.

Fucking hell. I don’t get paid enough for this job. I really don’t.

Most Honored Warchief,

Greetings once again Warchief Hellscream. I come bearing ill tidings from Towlong Steppes. I was out leading some of your Horde adventurers through and giving them a Lay of the land while on the way for clean up duty on the Isle of Thunder. Along the way, we passed by a giant eel, G’nathus. The undead warrior and orc shaman decided that it might be a bit of fun to go and test themselves against such a creature. I agreed, if only to keep them alive against such a beast. At first, it seemed to go very well. The warrior took electrocution like nothing I had ever seen before! Then a squid came from nowhere and decided to see if my totems were filled with beer (they’re keg-shaped, you see)! That sadly broke all my concentration and we were forced to flee, but not without some injuries. The poor shaman was smacked around, almost worse than the warrior! Thank the Celestials for ahnks, by the way!

Before this old man babbles for too much longer, I must regretfully inform you that the Shado-Pan has decided to bill the Horde for the loss of precious reagents and my totems. Not that I require the financial compensation, but Lord Zhu insists! Really! He started going on about the outsiders bringing ruin to our land again. It is a very…tiring speech.

Regretfully yours,

–Shen Wei Pureblossom

You do not get to talk about “tiring speeches” immediately after Sarlin’s letter.

That said… Hang on, you mean I’m getting stuck with ANOTHER bill? Is this how things work for that panda-Tirion Zhu guy? Something happens that you don’t like, so you ring up an itemized list to send along to whoever you can? Not to mention, I just finished LOOKING OVER the aforementioned itemized list, and are you fucking KIDDING me? What are your totems fucking MADE of, diamonds?! I thought they were listing the price in coppers when I saw that shit. What the fuck is the exchange rate down there? Does 500 gold mean something different to you people than it does up here? Did you fucking switch to the metric system or some shit? WTF?!

And let’s not even get STARTED on the reagents! I’m going over this list, and there is LITERALLY nothing on here that I can’t walk over to the Valley of Wisdom and buy for pocket change. DON’T BELIEVE ME, COME ON BY. DISCOUNT ANKHS ON ME.

Actually.

Hang on.

It just occurred to me — if this invoice of yours even REMOTELY resembles the actual prices of reagents down there in Pandaria, and it’s not just Zhu’s-his-face gouging me with like an 8000% markup, this might be an opportunity to put a dent in the ol’ Shayari-induced cash flow problem. Because if I can buy this shit HERE for like 20 silver a pop, then bring it on down to Pandaria and sell it to you pandas for a hundred times that, and STILL be way below Scarf Boy’s asking price… Hmm…

Spirits help me, I’m starting to think like a goblin. CONGRATULATIONS, UNIVERSE, YOU WIN AGAIN.

Meanwhile… you mean to say, you were going about your business, and a fucking SQUID came swimming over just to try to dip into your keg totems? What kind of a fucking dumbass squid is that? Is it some kind of Dontrag squid? Because that seems like something he would do. Or Utvoch. Whichever one of them it is. Maybe the other one was the eel or something. Eelvoch, maybe. Ellvoch and Dontrag-the-Squid. Why the fuck not. Seems to match up brainpower-wise.

Hey, Garry.

I’m Valinora. Don’t ask any questions. I’m here for one thing and one thing only; EPIC VERSE.

I had a scroll through the mailbags and I saw a little introduction suggested by one of your readers. Hope you don’t mind if I do the same. By the way, you OWNED Varian. I dare you to go up against Thrall next time. Hate that guy. He didn’t steal anybody’s bacon, he stole all their pigs, forced them to make the bacon and then claimed to have made it himself. Ugh.

Anyway. A topic that I’m sure you’ll have no hesitation with, given your…knowledge of felweed.

“By now, he had one joint too many,”

Go!

–Valinora “Lightshorn”, Stormwind City.

Oh, hey, check it — somebody who gets right to the point. It’s like you’re the anti-Sarlin or something. First off, though:

Now granted, you didn’t exactly endear yourself to me with the Garry thing (and I mean, seriously, people, isn’t it getting old at this point? Even the basic campfire joke fizzled out faster than this) (Get it? Campfire? Fizzled out? BA DUM BUM), and plus there’s the small matter that you appear to be HUMAN. On the other hand, you DID get to the point of your letter before wiping out enough trees to render hundreds of poor disadvantaged night elf strippers glitterless, and then you topped that off by having the good sense to know a good ol’ EPIC VERSE thrashing of King Vajayjay when you see it. Additional kudos for getting a good jab in at Thrall, because man oh man has HE been on a one-way trip to Insufferable City. Dude might as well take his vainglorious ass over to the vaingloryhole and fucking blow himself there, at the rate he’s going.

Anyway, you got to the point, you delivered a good burn on EACH side of the faction divide, and what the hell, I’m not one to pass up a chance to lay down a little EPIC VERSE. So here we go. YOU ASK, GARROSH DELIVERS.

By now, he had one joint too many.
(Point of fact, he’d gone over by twenty.)
Came down with giggle fits,
Would have lost all his wits,
If to start with he’d even had any.

In his stupor he thought he’d go swimming,
With a head that with felweed was brimming;
So he and his buddy —
Whose mind, too, was muddy —
Jumped in while their dimwits were dimming.

So in their felweed-fueled delusion,
They swam off to sea in seclusion;
They went round and round,
And when they were found,
They managed to cause more confusion:

I don’t know how much felweed they did,
But one moron thought he was a squid,
While his buddy, with zeal,
Thought that he was an eel,
While around in the waters they slid.

So when they encountered bystanders,
They thought that they’d caught a gander
Of a beer-party kegger,
So up like a beggar,
The stupid squid chose to meander.

He made a big mess seeking brew,
Now I’m stuck with the bill for those two.
I’m pissed off, but whatever —
You know you can’t ever
Spell “dumbass” without D and U.

You asked for some rhymes, so I wrote ’em,
About morons who smashed up some totems.
They’re going to need hearses —
At least some good nurses,
’Cause they’re gonna get stabbed in their scrotums.

EPIC VERSE!

Okay, that’s going to do it for this time. As always, keep those letters coming!

[Next mailbag December 7! E-mail the Warchief using the link at the top of the right sidebar, or use the handy form below:]