The Other White Meat
Slipping in a bit under the wire for poetry month, I know — despite the best of intentions, this month has ended up getting away from me a bit. Since I do still have at least one or two EPIC VERSE ideas in what has been a rather scant April thus far, I’m going to let the gimmick spill over a little into May, so by all means please continue to toss opening lines out there! Also, for this edition, bonus credit to Rakael Towers AND Khizzara, for providing a one-two punch of the first TWO lines of the poem. And, ahem, thereby doing a little more of my work for me. *cough*
Shall I compare bacon to a summer’s day?
Thou art more crispy and delectable.
A summer’s morn for hours shalt while away;
In minutes, bacon: undetectable.
Sometimes a summer’s heat may tax the souls
Of they who labor ’neath the searing sun.
(Though, honest let us be: the peon proles
Who labor thus: for they, my cares, not one.)
But bacon’s heat, its sizzle, wafting scent,
Of these can only majesty be spoke;
The peon reaching for my snack be rendt,
The hand that grabs a piece, by me is broke.
So long as troll or orc my bacon leaves,
So long lives he, and without labor breathes.
EPIC VERSE!
Tale of Two Morons
For this edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge, we revel in the Warchief’s endless satisfaction with the quality of his minions…
I yearn for that day, years ago,
When as a new Warchief I ventured afield
From outpost to outpost to know
How utterly we’d made Alliance troops yield:
Much less than I’d hoped;
For all that I scoped,
Our victory was far from sealed.
Admittedly, first I just moped
And wished I had minions more worthy to guide.
But okay. Fail minions. I coped.
And figured I might as well see the bright side.
When lemons are there,
You make lemon squares.
At least, you know, that’s what I tried.
I thought if I just got out there
And showed the fail minions how it should be done.
The sight of a badass with flair
Might get through some brick heads — perhaps everyone!
That plan wasn’t sound,
’Cause morons abound;
My suffering had just begun.
So in Ashenvale’s where I found
Two blathering morons I can’t tell apart.
Again in a cave underground —
“They’re totally USELESS!” was true from the start.
They’ve shadowed me since
To make my brain wince.
You know what? They’re not very smart.
I’ve longed for that day ever since,
A day before meeting them, maybe a week.
Perhaps even go back, convince
My past self, unknowing, what pain they would wreak,
Then get him to bolt
Away from those dolts
And out of the zone in a streak.
I’d bear any torment or jolt
For them once again to be dopes I don’t know.
No Legion or Darkspear Revolt
Could ever cause me even half as much woe.
But with them I’m stuck.
Unless I use FUCK-
ING TIME TRAVEL once more — yeah, no.
EPIC VERSE!
(Keep those opening lines coming! For anyone who missed last time, the Warchief invites everyone to offer opening lines for this year’s poetry month; Garrosh will pick as many as possible to use to open his EPIC VERSES. More soon!)
So Hey, Remember When I Had a Blog?
Do you? Is your memory that good? Impressive!
Okay, let’s try to start this off semi-properly. Ahem.
Hi everybody, time — after lo these many eons — for another OOC post from Averry. So, heya, how’s everybody been doing? I’ve been having a time myself, let me just tell you. In fact, I think I will, at least in thumbnail-sketch form.
So, the last time you all heard from me, at least through the blog, was about… spirits help us… about three years ago, as I was making a sincere effort to get the blog rolling again after yet another long stretch of silence. I really thought I was going to stick with that one, I swear! Which was right about when life decided to throw me one of those curveballs.
Just as the pandemic was getting into full swing and I was working on getting back into a Garrosh groove, I was diagnosed with lung cancer. This, by the way, after a lifetime of never having smoked a puff of anything, felweed or otherwise, so GO ME for winning the reverse lottery! I’m not going to torment/bore everyone with the details — some of you are already well aware of what’s been going on; I don’t at all mind elaborating for anyone who does want to know more; but most importantly, I don’t really want the medical nitty gritty to take over this update and turn it into some kind of woe-is-me post. Suffice to say, there have been ups and downs since then, but I’m still doing well, very much alive and active and doing a pretty damn good impression of someone who’s fully healthy. An act which I fully intend to keep pulling off for a good long while.
Obviously, though, when the news first hit, I suddenly had a lot going on that checked in much higher on the priority list than blogging and gaming and so forth. If I’m honest, though, most of the silence here has come down to inertia — once I got used to not blogging again, it just became a habit that was far too easy to keep falling into. I’m sure many of you know the deal, whether it’s blogging or exercising or keeping up with some other pursuit: “I should really get to that today… maybe a little later… oh, well, there’s always tomorrow.” Repeat for several hundred days straight.
Well, I finally figured it was time to get off my figurative ass and get back to it. Partly because I know I still have stories I want to tell and silliness I want to give form, partly because I don’t much like the idea of leaving this whole dorky project unfinished if things did suddenly go sidewise for me (which they won’t — do you hear me, universe?), but also in large part because I miss interacting with this weird, goofy community that somehow collected around my ridiculous ramblings here. So, on the off chance that some of you are still out there, I figured I would dust off the ol’ Command Board and try getting back to it.
For those of you who are still out there, thank you — I appreciate you still having an antenna up after all this time and being willing to peek back in again. For those of you who have long since checked out and stopped caring about the goings-on here, well, I can’t say I blame you. But you’re also not here to see this, so the hell with you. I mean, I still can’t blame you, I get it, but the hell with you just the same. Hey, everybody still here, let’s mock and jeer at the people who bailed! But I do get it.
Anyhow! I’m mostly writing this to digitally clear my throat and let people know I’m back (or trying to be!). And, since we are just starting into the month of April, we all know what that means — time for me to get back into form by recognizing National Poetry Month with a brand new edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge! Because the world can never have too much EPIC VERSE.
So here’s where I have to come up with a gimmick for this round. In this case, I’m going to be a little lazy by going with something that some of you already built into a few mailbag letters, way back when: you start it, Garrosh finishes it! That is… in a comment on this post, or an email or Tweet to Garrosh, you come up with an opening line, and then I (erm, Garrosh) will try to come up with the rest of the poem that follows! Anything goes, so long as it’s something that could plausibly be a line from a poem (as opposed to the first paragraph of a novel or something).
I’m not going to lock in a set-in-stone schedule, but I’ll be sure to put up at least one post each week. I may very well post more if I get ambitious or see a particular line that’s just too tempting to pass up. So start pelting me with those ideas!
In the weeks ahead, I’ll likely also give a few more updates on blog goings-on. I might like to plan an occasional scheduled hangout in Discord (we created one for a DPS friends-of-blog guild in Classic, which I’ll try to link here soon) — I’m thinking it might give me added incentive to stay on task if a few folks wanted to come hang out while I’m assembling blog stuff. While I’m at it I could share WIP tidbits, whether that’s snippets of dialogue or comic drawings — maybe if I get really ambitious, and people would actually want to peek over my shoulder this much, I could stream myself drawing parts of the comics, so you can witness the hideous train wreck in progress.
Anyway, now I’m just musing and babbling (“AS OPPOSED TO WHEN ELSE, AVERRY?”), so let me wrap up here. Once again, thank you to everyone who’s still here, or who maybe finds their way here later on. Hopefully I’ll get to hear from many of you again soon.
Averry
Monday mailbag
[Running more than a bit behind on getting some Photoshop work done, and I can’t rightly leave everyone hanging for TOO long! So here, let’s let Garrosh dip back into the ol’ mailbag briefly… (And for any timeline/continuity sticklers out there — of which, admittedly, I’m one — let’s say he queued this up just before departing for his current excursion…)]
Okay, people, you know how this works, so let’s get right to it…
Dear Warchief,
I know I have not posted or commented much lately, but I have preferred to sit quietly in the background and focus on the tasks you have set, followed as always by my faithful bodyguard (long story short, my fiance demands I have a bodyguard after some incidents that happened during my pregnancy and the birth of my daughter).
However, Selarcis (of the Sunfires, in case you know of him), my bodyguard, left some… ah.. interesting paperwork lying around.
It appears as though he has been trying to calculate my protection as offered by the formula you provided.
I know the entire calculation was meant to show how the “lack” of armor on a female (or male, for that matter), calculates into nudity factor and to-hit ratio… but I am a Priestess, and therefore I tend to keep myself quite covered. It is rare that I show much more than my midriff and my arms, if that.
Is there some kind of separate calculation for cloth-wearers, or does this formula also work?
I’m sure Selarcis will wind up seeing this, and if he does, I’m sure I’m going to hear the lecture of a lifetime… He’s the engineer, not me (I’m just a simple seamstress and enchantress), but I’m wondering if he’s going about this all wrong.
The answer he came up with was:
∆h=140.1333/3.826 * (87*93)^2
… then there are notes saying Bo and e are “1-100”, and a lot of scribbles, and then, an answer, circled, of 2397732809.
Apart from the questions on how he got my measurements (other than the ones that I use to personally craft robes and dresses for myself), I don’t understand exactly what any of this means.
Again, I’m not an engineer of any kind, and well.. he is.
Again, is this just the calculation for plate-armor, or does this also apply to cloth, leather, and mail?
… What exactly do Bo and e stand for? Where did he get my Nudity Index? (I assume that’s what the St/Sc he has here are for, going back and reading your equation and notes again…) I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t seen me … I mean… as traveling partners and both of us healers, we have no secrets and no modesty around each other… but the numbers.. I just don’t understand where they came from…
Could you shed some light on any of this?
—Briyanna Solari Soleilin
I… oh great. See? See? This is what happens when I try laying some science on you people. I blog one simple little equation that quantifies how distracted a would-be attacker becomes due to leering at the skin you’re blood-elvishly showing off with your choice of non-armor, and somebody just had to go and make it weird. So, okay, here we go.
So, first, these calculations apply to any armor type. Plate, mail, whatever. I’m getting a clothie vibe from you, Briyanna, but I could be wrong. Either way, it doesn’t factor into the equation. The Focus Distortion Field doesn’t care what kind of armor you’re not-wearing so long as you’re, you know, not wearing it. Not wearing plate doesn’t protect you any better than not wearing cloth.
Next, as far as the actual numbers your bodyguard came up with… You’ve got me there. See, I know ABOUT this equation and I understand the basic premise, but I’ve never tried to sit down and crunch actual numbers. Seeing as, you know, I actually have a life and friends and shit. Luckily, though, I just so happen to have access to a dude who DOESN’T have those things so much, and is usually pretty good with this kind of dorky stuff. So let me kick it over to him for a minute. You might know him.
Hey, what’s up? Spazzle here! I wasn’t expecting to get back into a mailbag again so soon, but I guess Garrosh had a technical question from a letter, so…
Um…
Yipes. I’m looking it over now, and, um… this thing’s kind of all over the place. So I mean… Well, you take the Nudity Index part, and he has you down for (140.1333 / 3.826), which is supposed to be the ratio of total body surface area to surface area concealed, and… I mean, I’m not even sure how you could have landed a 3.826 for your coverage. That’s really low. Like low even for AQ trash drops kind of low. Are you really walking around wearing… um…? Yikes. Or… well, I guess it could be thrown off depending on what units of measurement he was using… see, the formula was originally designed to work with square inches, although there’s also a variation that adjusts for a base-10 system of measurements, but you can end up with a few wonky problems depending on how many decimal places of accuracy you want. But then if your guy there got a wild hair up his keister and decided to try doing this with the Zinkowski system, hoo boy, because now you’ve got to account for four-dimensional permutations over a continuum, which gives you a wider scope of coverage but introduces a whole quantum aspect to the whole thing. And so if he’s going that then I can see why your denominator is trending toward pi, because…
I’d just like to step in here and point out that, faced with an almost-naked blood elf, dude here is zeroed in on algebra or whatever.
Nerd.
Hey, you asked me to field this one!
Yeah, yeah, whatever.
Well, the point is that I’m not sure what’s going on with those first couple of figures… but the real mystery is the Bo2 and es values, because he has to be doing something wonky with those. There’s no way the BOOTEE-squared value should be that big. Like… the notes she mentioned about the Bo2 and es being based on a 1-100 range would give a result that’s orders of magnitude off from what it should be, seeing as those figures are supposed to be built on a limit of 10 with logarithmic curvature… So I don’t know, maybe he’s deliberately way way overshooting Eugene’s limit as a way to convey how exponentially gorgeous she is, even beyond computational laws? That’s the best I can do on that one…
Yeah, so, I guess this is the part where I answer that part of your question, Briyanna. Because, see, Bo2 — “body observational optimality” — and es — “exhibitional enticement” — are pretty much measures of, well, hotness. You know that old saying, “Flaunt it if you’ve got it?” Well, think of those two as a measure of how much you’ve got it and how well you flaunt it. So apparently your guy there has you rated as an 87 and 93 on those accounts. Which, like Pea Pod was saying, goes way beyond the normal values of Bo2 and es, so either you bodyguard has decided that on a scale of 1 to 10, you’re a fucking 87, or someone gave him some REALLY bad intel on how this calculation works. Either that, or he’s kind of not too bright. At all. Even remotely. Like we’d have to be talking Dontrag-and-Utvochically severe levels of not smart. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.
But that kind of brings us to your other question, about how he got your Nudity Index. Because like Spazzle was saying, he worked that out based on actual NUMBERS that measure your total “surface area” — translation: every last literal inch of your body — and how much of that surface area you actually keep covered up. Which apparently isn’t a whole lot. So, you know, go you. Point is, though, he had those figures down to a VERY high level of accuracy, which means he had to be making some VERY detailed measurements of your, um, measurements. And so when you combine the EXTREMELY close attention he’s been paying to your bod — unknown to you, apparently — with the crazy inflated hotness scores he’s been giving you for this thing, well, what I’m telling you, Briyanna, is it looks like your “bodyguard” wants to be doing more with your body than guarding.
So, maybe this is a surprise to you, since your letter kind of gives me the sense that he hasn’t done anything to let on that he’s been checking you out. Which, I mean, I don’t really know what to tell you about that, seeing as I don’t have a whole lot of experience with having my eyes on a woman but not being able to pull the trigger and DO something about it. Usually I barely need to do anything myself, because, you know, #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh. Luckily, though, I just so happen to have access to a dude who DOES probably have a fair amount of expertise in being all awkward and dateless and just hovering around in the background when there’s a girl he likes and whoa-is-me’ing about how she never picks up on any of the clear signals he’s not at all sending in lieu of coming right out and doing something, so let me kick it over to him for a minute.
…
Um. That means you’re up again, dude.
Wait, that was supposed to be me?
Who the hell else would I have been talking about?
Geez, boss, way to make me look good…
Hey, look, you are what you are.
True enough, Warchief, though I would hasten to point out that, in light of current events, you might do well not to alienate all of your remaining supporters.
Wait, what the hell? Oh, don’t fucking tell me…
Yes indeed, Warchief, it is I, Lady Sylvanas Windrunner. I try as best I can to keep an eye on the goings-on on your ever-entertaining and oft-illuminating blog, and in this instance I felt compelled to step in and offer constructive comment.
By hacking into the blog. Again.
Not something that should surprise you, given that, as you rightly point out, this is hardly my first virtual visit, as it were.
Even though my supposed tech expert said he’d changed the password and locked the site down.
Oh man, here we go again…
Oh, was I supposed to be maintaining the pretense that I’d been locked out? I must have lost track of that. Silly me.
You know, I really want to know how you became such an expert in hacking. The firewall I set up was no joke.
You would be amazed by the skills one acquires when one no longer needs to lose several hours daily to the need for sleep.
You mean like what happens with Rook when she’s had six or seven gallons of Starbulls in one sitting?
I’m not sure I know who that is, Warchief.
One of his trainees, I think.
Oh. Is that the orc boy you’ve mentioned? I do recall there being a protege of sorts of whom you appeared to have grown rather fond.
No, that’s Gurtash. I was talking about… you know what? Never mind.
If you wish, sir. In any case, in this particular instance, I can’t claim to have hacked into the blog quite the same way as I have in the past.
How the hell are you here, then?
There’s an app for it.
The what you say?
Oh man. I can already tell this is going to be bad…
An app. For my Eye Pad of Kilrogg. A handy little device, I must say. You might consider picking one up for yourself, Warchief, for those times when you’re not in your throne room.
Uh… yeah.
It really does come in handy, boss, I have to say.
Oh for fuck’s sake, ANOTHER one?
Oh, hey, is that you, Mokvar?
Yeah, it’s me. Hey Spaz.
Ah, a pleasure to see you, Mokvar, albeit digitally. I trust the Eye Pad is working well?
Yeah, it’s been great so far.
Holy crap, Mok, you’re actually stepping up your tech into the Third Age?
Don’t you start. But yeah, it’s turning out to be a lot handier than I would have figured.
So hang on, you mean Sylvanas hooked you up with one of these… whatever-the-fuck-they-are’s, and now I’ve got YOU sticking your nose into the blog editor with it TOO?
Well, to be fair, boss, I did already have access. Remember you had Spazzle set me up to post my own entries.
Oh, yeah, I forgot how you do that sometimes.
You’re still not reading what we write, huh?
You mean you write stuff, too?
Asked and answered, Spaz.
Your capacity to cultivate loyalty among your followers truly does inspire, Warchief. Little wonder you enjoy such unanimous support among the Horde leadership.
Said the woman who’s HACKING INTO MY BLOG with an APP that’s apparently ready-made to let her do that, and who the hell even puts something like that together, anyway?
I’m not sure who coded it, though it seems like something that would be a goblin endeavor.
Hey, racist much? Whose side are you on?!
What a curious question for you to pose, Spazzle, considering.
Oh felgercarb, ixnay on the onflicted-loyalty-cay!
Is that some kind of goblin lingo or something?
Still better than when he starts writing in binary.
Wow, he really does that? He needs to get out more.
Oh, geez, thanks.
UM.
Well, hey, Spaz, you… wait a minute.
Well this is curious.
WAIT A MINUTE INDEED.
Hey, Pops. Try not to blow a gasket or something.
Oh for fuck’s sake. YOU TOO?
Oh boy… this is just setting up more and more work for me…
Don’t act all weirded out, Pops. You’re the one who kept trying to get me to take an interest in your dorky blog.
Yeah well I didn’t think you were going to join the goddamn HACK PARADE.
Is that who I think it is?
WHAT DO YOU THINK
Shayari?
The one and only!
I don’t fucking believe this shit.
Oh, my, this is the daughter I’ve heard so much about? I haven’t had the pleasure.
Hey, nice to meet you. Who are you again?
Can we maybe focus a little less on social hour and a little more on HOW THE HELL EVERYONE IS GETTING INTO MY BLOG TODAY
Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, at your service. Shayari, isn’t it?
Yep, that’s me.
And you hush, Pops.
WHAT THE
…
Well well, she is a little firecracker, isn’t she?
And I had no idea you fancied such colorful terms of endearment, Warchief. “Pops” indeed!
Oh don’t YOU start too, Sylvanas.
Oh, hush now, Pops.
I mean Warchief.
…
*giggle*
^_^
I think I’m going to maybe log off and step a safe distance away from the pad.
Yeah, I might follow your lead there, Mok.
OH NO YOU DON’T, Pea Pod. You’re keeping your ass right here until you fix the damn blog so EVERY LAST MOTHERFUCKER UNDER THE SUN can’t just stick their nose in at will!
Right, boss. On it.
Strictly speaking, Garrosh, I’m more underground than under the sun.
YOU KNOW WHAT I FUCKING WELL MEAN, LIVING DEAD GIRL
At any rate, Shayari, I assume you’ve picked up the Crowbar app as well?
Yup, I downloaded it after Pops had me fielding his mail that time.
Wait, what the hell are you even USING it on?
An Eye Pad of Kilrogg, of course. Duh, Pops.
Yes, Garrosh, duh.
Oh, actually, Shay — may I call you Shay? — if you have one of our delightful little tablets, does that mean you’ve been to my humble Undercity?
Oh, yeah, I port over all the time for mage lessons with Eddie.
With whom?
Faranell.
Oh. My, you do have a way of referring to people, don’t you?
I’m quite surprised, though. I had no idea the good doctor had any such extracurricular activities.
Actually, our activities are very curricular. Like literally.
I’m kind of surprised he volunteered for that job.
I think Liadrin talked him into it.
That must be why he approaches the job with such effusive enthusiasm, yeah.
Well, I don’t know how well the good doctor has been teaching you magic, Shayari, but I dare say you appear to have picked up his distinctive sarcasm.
Yeah, well, he better be getting the job done for what I’m paying him.
Oh, no, I pretty much had that going all along. The sarcasm, I mean.
Wait, you’re paying Edwin for this?
Sounds like an abomination to you, too, huh?
Oh, no, Warchief, I can say with some authority that abominations sound a fair bit different.
Well, maybe not that bad, but I just figured you would have treated an assignment like this as just one more part of his regular job.
Well, yeah, he DOES pretty much work for me anyway.
Strictly speaking, dear Warchief, I must say I believe I have the more immediate claim to the good doctor’s work hours.
Other than the part where I outrank you.
Well, yes, for the time being. You never know, though — I’m quite ambitious, and politics can be such a fickle affair!
Yeah, well, I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting to be Warchief.
I can’t imagine why not. Being as I am undead, I can hold my breath for an extraordinarily long time. Say, another two or three years?
Can we get back to the small matter of fucking EVERYONE I KNOW HACKING INTO MY GODDAMN BLOG?
I know, I know, I’m working on it…
Really, Pops, the app’s right there for anyone to grab from the Sunfruit store. It’s not our fault you’re only finding out about this now. Don’t blame the messenger.
She clearly hasn’t noticed the pile of dead messengers out behind the hold…
Oh for frak’s sake!
What?
Oh geez, you’re not going to believe this.
Uh oh.
Can you wait just a moment before saying it, Spazzle? For some reason I feel an urge to heat up some popcorn.
Oh, hey, good call. One popcorn pyroblast incoming…
Yeah, so…
Will you just fucking SPIT IT OUT already?
Don’t let him rush you, Spazzle. Popcorn’s almost done.
And YOU stay out of this!
^_^
So, okay, I just did a little digging on that Crowbar app. And it turns out, well… “Published by Blackfuse Software Division.”
…
Hoo boy.
!!!
Was that supposed to mean something to us?
Shh. I want to see if he does question marks next.
WHAT
THE LITERAL
FUCK
Not for anything, chief, but I told you that guy was nothing but trouble.
Fucking hell, how many more supposed ALLIES am I going to have fucking SCREWING ME OVER behind my BACK?!
Would “five” be too suspiciously specific?
What’s going on?
Helix Blackfuse is a contractor Garrosh hired.
Oh. Okay, so this is one of those boring office things.
I think I can file a complaint with Sunfruit to get the app pulled down, chief. I’ll have to change all the security settings, but it should limit the damage.
Hopefully.
Yeah, you do that. In the meantime, Mokvar, get your shit together, we’re paying Blackfuse a little visit.
On it, boss.
And see if you can grab Gurtash on the way over. He should be running drills out by the west rampart with the other trainees.
Won’t that be a little overkill?
No, I think there’s going to be exactly the right amount of kill.
If you say so, boss. You really think you’re going to need a transcript and a comic done, though?
I’m not bringing Gurtash to do a comic. I just want someone there with some artistic ability to draw the chalk outline.
Hey, uh, Dark Lady, would you happen to have any of that popcorn left?
Got it, boss.
Okay. We’ve got some ANNOYING AS ALWAYS BECAUSE WELCOME TO MY LIFE work to do.
Have fun, Pops.
Yeah, well, that means you people all need to be logging off of here. Or wait for Pea Pod to lock you out again. Whichever.
It’s adorable that you think so, I must say, sir.
JUST GET OFF OF HERE, for fuck’s sake.
If you say so, Pops. I should go over a few incantations anyway.
Speaking of which, Shay, the next time you’re in the Undercity, you simply must drop by the Royal Quarter. It would be a great pleasure to meet our esteemed Warchief’s next of kin in person.
Heading out now, boss. I’ll meet you in the war room.
Sure, I guess. I’m there a bunch of times every week.
Splendid. Apropos of nothing, by the way, what are your feelings on eternal youth?
Okay, people, let’s move it.
Well, I feel like, seeing as I’m half draenei, I’ve pretty much already got that covered.
I see you’ve inherited your father’s charming naivete.
MOVE IT, I said.
Ugh. Dammit, Spazzle, just pull the plug on everyone.
On it, chief.
There, that should do it. All the guest logins should be terminated. Nobody left except the admin accounts.
Sorry about all of this, chief. I’ll get it all locked down for serious this afternoon.
Chief?
Anybody home?
Garrosh?
Oh geez. Did I just… Hang on…
Oh frak.
<sigh> I’m gonna pay for this one tomorrow morning, I just know it.
Oh well. I guess… um… bye, everyone. Talk to you all soon, I guess?
Indeed. Talk to you all soon. ~_^
The Southshore Campaign
Garrosh just couldn’t seem to have any quiet time in Grommash Hold without some new task cropping up for him. If it wasn’t Eitrigg finding things for him to do, it was someone else from among his cast of minions…
Now, granted, you can hardly blame Garrosh for being a bit startled. This was taking place during Cataclysm, after all, so evidently Sylvanas was way, way ahead of the curve with the whole talking-head thing.
So Garrosh hopped the next zeppelin and headed to Eastern Kingdoms, where Sylvanas and her entourage were there to meet him with bad news for the living and dead alike…
Because seriously, that had been going on long enough.
Next up was a trip to the Apothecarium, where Garrosh first met Sylvanas’ head researcher, Master Apothecary Faranell.
A few awkwardly scripted interactions in the next room later…
And so, as per Faranell’s recommendation, Garrosh’s search for answers continued in Hillsbrad…
After many, many frustrating rounds of exhortations and beatings — which I won’t subject you to here — Garrosh was finally able to extract some information from a panicked Helcular: years ago, while still a living human, Helcular had seen a contingent from the Knights of the Silver Hand lurking around Southshore. Given the paladin order’s eventual interest in the Scourge, Garrosh concluded that there could be a link to the anti-plague. And considering the fact that, where the Silver Hand was concerned, Garrosh had an in right there on staff…
And look. A meeting took place. Words were exchanged. Many, many words. Spirits save us, so many words. And I’m simply not cruel enough to subject you to all of them here. Suffice to say that Garrosh ended up having to deploy Dontrag and Utvoch as part of an exit strategy. The main takeaway from the meeting — other than soul-crushing exhaustion — was that the Knights of the Silver Hand did indeed meet in Southshore some ten years ago to discuss the looming threat of the Scourge. Alexandros Mograine unveiled a magic crystal that would eventually be used to forge the Ashbringer — the ultimate weapon of the Light against undeath. The crystal, however, two of the knights had convinced Mograine to let them study the crystal for their own purposes, which led Garrosh, Mokvar, and Faranell to suspect there might be a connection to the current crisis in Southshore.
The only problem is, all relevant parties were now dead, leaving what seemed to be an equally dead trail for Garrosh and company to follow…
I had really wanted to cover this whole arc in this post, but this week got away from me a bit, so rather than make a late installment that much later, let’s toss up a “TO BE CONTINUED” here and resume our goofy walk down memory lane next time…
Oh, but also, since it’s kind of tradition at this point…
Daria’s Pro Tip for Dealing with Tirion #9: If someone else catches his attention, run — do not walk — out of the room. Do not look back. Do not feel remorse. It’s a hard, cruel world out there; better them than you.
Catch-Up Mechanic
A quick out-of-character preface to what will be something of an out-of-character installment — I knew that when I revived the blog, I wanted to include some recaps of what’s come before. After all, even I in all my arrogance couldn’t assume that everyone would remember what’s been going on after all this time. But I also didn’t want that recapping just to be paragraph after paragraph of exposition. I finally came up with an idea that should serve both to refresh everyone’s memory and also to quickly acclimate anyone who’s just now arriving. Hope you enjoy this slant on things… you’ll likely be seeing it again!
(As a minor side note, if you have trouble seeing any of the embedded text in the images to come, you can always click on them to see a larger version.)
And so, with no further ado… Let’s dip into an oddly familiar third-person view of our typically first-person story…
It all began a few years back, when an unsuspecting Garrosh noticed that Eitrigg seemed to have something on his mind…
The Warchief, unconvinced but curious, made his way over to the goblin part of town, where he found what would eventually become a very familiar face…
To make it happen, Spazzle had a followup quest of his own…
Although this one wasn’t quite as well-received as Eitrigg’s start to the chain…
Garrosh returned to Grommash Hold and did just that. And so, his second career as a very, very, very low-grade blogging celebrity began…
His first, but far from his last. Despite not-infrequent gaps and delays, the posts would keep on coming.
Okay, you get the point. It turns out that the big lug had a lot of thoughts and musings to share. But that initial suggestion that the Warchief go talk to Spazzle wasn’t the last time that Eitrigg would have a job for Garrosh, even in those early days.
Hoo boy. This one was going to keep Garrosh busy for a while, which, as you can well imagine, filled him with satisfaction with his career choices. On the up side, while conducting his inspections, he would manage to unlock various other side quests, not all of which were exactly a chore…
As you can imagine, he really was in his element.
That said, while it’s all fun and games while you’re blowing up night elves, afterward Garrosh needed to get back down to business and deal with a number of subpar performances.
By all appearances, that was the end of that. Mokvar got to work on his inscription, the wyvern got some much-needed exercise along the Winterspring-Silithus round-trip flight path, and all was well with Azeroth. Until a strange missive found its way into the Warchief’s weekly mailbag…
Okay, so with the mission done and Mortimer the wyvern back under Horde control, that was definitely the end of that.
Until, up late one night playing Earth Online, Garrosh heard a strange knocking at the door.
Lathorius’ attack against Garrosh went about as well as everything else he does. Mortimer came to the rescue, securing his place at Garrosh’s side, where he’s been ever since.
And Garrosh, meanwhile, wouldn’t see the last addition to his inner circle of followers. Because Eitrigg just never seemed to run out of ideas…
Don’t worry — we won’t be going through the whole blog step by step like this. But it’s a fun enough way to revisit some of the major story threads as we ramp back up. If there are particular events or storylines you’d especially like to see get this treatment, by all means chime in!
More soon!
Count Your Blessings
Okay, so, while I was brainstorming ideas for this last installment of EPIC VERSE, I put a call out on Twitter for suggestions, and you people stepped up with a bunch of options…
And I figured, why the fuck not, let’s just DO THEM ALL. IN ONE POEM.
Here we go. STRAP IN, BITCHES.
Last time around, we got started with promise
Then fizzled out. You were here, though. You saw this.
But now I’m giving it just one more trial,
Recounting things that make your Warchief smile.
You might be skeptical there’s such a list;
Maybe your guess is that I’m always pissed.
Yeah, well, try spending a year with this crew —
Your long fuse will become much shorter, too.
Anyway, never mind. Yeah, fuck that noise.
We won’t be dwelling on shit that annoys.
Forget about all that, and in its place
Let’s look at what brings a smile to my face.
Wyverns are awesome, dude, there’s no discounting.
None moreso than the one I’m epic-mounting.
Mortimer brings chimaeras to their knees;
So badass even the druid agrees.
After a wyvern ride, back home to quaff a
Giant-sized tankard of Pandaren kafa.
Say what you want, but those pandas are keen
When it comes time to deliver caffeine.
And while the kafa’s hot, Kor’kron chef’s makin’
Forty-three pounds of thick-cut hellboar bacon.
After all that, appetite’s undiminished;
While there are boars still left, breakfast ain’t finished.
Google more “Garrosh likes“ and the result is
Dead humans, dead gnomes, and dead Twilight cultists.
Also dead Grimtotem, Magatha’s kin;
Call me when she’s caught and torture begins.
You know I love when a plan comes together.
(It rarely does with these goons, but whatever.)
Rarer still from the minions I’ve collected:
When my authority’s actually respected.
Now, with my trainees, their loyalty’s ample;
I wish more grown-ups followed their example.
Good thing this training gig’s plenty rewarding —
Easy’s to teaching as brief is to Fordring.
DPS kids are heroes on the rise.
(Gurtash needs work, but at least, hey, he tries.)
Lethal from day one; this much, let’s agree on:
Nobody’s missing a bunch of dead peons.
Ruekie tries hard even when things go south,
Effortlessly puts her foot in her mouth.
Already haste-buffed; one day she’ll go mental
Summoning her own kafa elemental.
Korrina’s deadly when she gets attacked;
Bane to the lizards — now that’s a #SaurFact.
Snapping off Ruekie’s fork just to eat noodles
(Captured forever in Gurtash’s doodles).
Gurtash was first of them I brought on board.
Draws comics better than he draws his sword.
Kid’s got to work on becoming more skilled.
He’ll toughen up (if he doesn’t get killed…).
Giska’s kung fu punches make your face swell up;
Kulkesh is… let’s face it… underdeveloped.
They’ll have more missions, they’ll win with panache
(So long as they don’t end up like Lok’osh).
Let’s send the kids home; this part’s not PG.
’Cause you know hashtag-TheLadiesLoveMe.
Trust me, the fact that my minions are noobs
Ain’t the lone way I’m surrounded by boobs.
You’ve seen my mailbags and Twitter replies;
Tip of the iceberg, between you and I.
They flock to Orgrimmar at my behest,
Putting the groupie in epic group quest.
That’s me, inspiring a fawning persona —
Uukra and Wega, Zaela and Garona.
Rak and Aranya, Thalassian Brandi,
One thing in common: /waggle gets them randy.
One shirtless /flex and they’re looking for action;
Gathering round, irregardless of faction.
So, who to pick when I’m looking for love?
Maybe I’ll go with D) All the above.
But even while a near harem is swirling,
There’s one girl from whom I want no fangirling:
Normally I might be lewd, even sleazy,
But that Sylvanas just makes me uneasy.
Even when mannered, she always seems dicey;
Hot on the outside, sure; inside, she’s icy.
At least one fish in the sea I’d throw back;
LadiesLoveGarrosh — he don’t love ’em all back.
EPIC VERSE!
[That does it for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge for this time around! Just a reminder, I’ll be taking a short break for the next couple of weeks due to hectic real-life goings-on, but after that, we’ll be back again with a weekly Wednesday installment, starting May 20!]
Look on the Bright Side
[Yes, I know, a day late… but better late EPIC VERSE than no EPIC VERSE at all, right?]
Some of you might want to ask
Why I always take to task
Blundering
Underlings
In my EPIC VERSE.
“Surely, Garrosh,” you might claim,
“All of them can’t be so lame!
Maybe sad;
Not that bad!”
Actually, they’re worse.
Hey, but let’s not dwell on griping;
Asswipes always be asswiping.
But instead,
Go ahead —
Brace yourself for this one:
Just this once, no bleak opinions —
Singing praises of my minions!
What’s that look?
Yeah, it took
Some trying to get this done.
I wish half my minions had been
Half as able as Liadrin.
That’s my loss;
Blood Knight boss,
Scholar and tactician.
Even when our plans have blown up,
She’s the one who’s been the grown-up:
Keeps her shit,
Handles it,
Closes out the mission.
Mokvar — brains and skill? He passes.
Never respecs; he reclasses:
Warlock days,
Shaman’s ways,
Back to lock he varied.
Churns out transcripts smooth and slickly;
Don’t know how he writes so quickly.
Dude, respect.
Just reject
That human that you married.
Spazzle’s useless in a battle,
But tech problems? Well now that’ll
Be his game.
Just the same,
Dude is such a peewee.
But I’m s’posed to keep my focus
On the positive; that bloke is
Handy for
Fixing your
Wireless network D/C’s.
Give Sylvanas this much credit:
No endeavor makes her sweat it.
Cool as ice,
Once or twice
She’s risen from disaster.
(Still, sometimes her smug beseeming
Makes me wonder what she’s scheming.
Hopefully
One day we
Won’t have to outcast her…)
Lor’thewhatshisname is… spiffy.
Picks your drapes out in a jiffy.
Hair care tips,
Table flips,
Hands out quest-gold proceeds.
He would make an awesome spy;
Everyone forgets this guy.
Stroll right in,
Walk out, win,
SI:7 — no leads.
Ji’s your guy in case you want to
Empty out a pantry pronto.
Skills he’s got —
When he’s not
Busy eating pocky.
Baine is… okay, now we’re straining.
All he’s good at is complaining.
I suppose
Tauren goes
Well with teriyaki.
D&U… Okay, I’m trying.
Cut some slack, I’m up here dying.
I began
With a plan
That might not be appeased.
Yeah, that’s all the lines I’m inking.
I don’t know what I was thinking —
Blood and bone
From a stone
Just cannot be squeezed.
EPIC VERSE!
Shipwreck Me Twice, Shame on Me
When Nazgrim the legionnaire
Took over the captain’s chair,
With his new commission
He went on a mission
But he never made it there.
His vessel, instead, went splat
When it ran into Ozumat.
It floated no more;
To the ocean floor
It sunk and then that was that.
Nazgrim survived in Vashj’ir
And came home to Orgrimmar here;
Two more years in the bank,
A general’s rank
I granted the brigadier.
When we found a new land cloaked in mist,
I gave Nazgrim Hellscream’s Fist;
He had one command:
To go seize this land.
But then came the frustrating twist.
With the mists of Pandaria clearing,
Nazgrim somehow still had trouble steering:
He made his air skiff glide
Right into the cliffside.
I tell you, this quirk ain’t endearing.
So given two ships, Nazgrim wrecked ’em.
You might wonder, why would I select ’im?
My options aren’t packed; he
Was best of my lackeys
Who mostly have heads up their rectums.
But Nazgrim? A brain? Yeah, he’s got one.
He’ll step up for the jobs that are not fun.
And in times souls are tried,
He’ll ride in by your side —
Just make sure that you make him ride shotgun.
EPIC VERSE!
More EPICness in a few days… don’t forget to give suggestions in the comments for what other LYRICAL MASTERPIECES you’d like to see from your Warchief. Topics, opening lines, whatever comes to mind. YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS.
To My Minions: How Do You Fail Me?
How do you fail me? Let me count the ways.
You fail me every time I take the chance
You might do something right — just once, perchance,
But no, our every mission goes sideways.
You fail me, D&U, with every phrase;
You fail when Lor’themar tries not to prance,
When Nazgrim crashed his ships, and missed his chance:
He let the captured Anduin get away.
My minions let me down at every turn;
I give them ample chances, but they choke.
Some day, I think, these imbeciles will learn;
One outcome won’t be such a fucking joke.
I think that… then here comes the next ill turn.
Free from their failure? Maybe when I croak.
EPIC VERSE!
