The curtain rises on the admiral’s quarters in Northwatch Hold, where Garrosh is sitting in a chair, slumped over a central table. Everything appears black-and-white.

After a moment, Garrosh stirs and looks around the room while rubbing his forehead. Stage lights illuminate the far edges of the stage, alternating sides, showing brief glimpses of Orgrimmar in flames, being overrun by demons. The sounds of screaming and demonic laughter can be heard, seemingly at a distance. The lights at the edges of the stage go out. Garrosh stands, and the background noise stops.

GARROSH: Malchezaar… They were able to do it because of Malchezaar…

 

{UP IN THE NETHER}

GARROSH:

Somewhere up in the nether
In the dark,
There’s a demon “prince,” self-appointed,
Calls himself Malchezaar.

Mortimer wanders in and settles near Garrosh as the song continues.

Somewhere up in the nether
Time did break.
You can kill him while he’s up there
But it just won’t take.

Some day I’ve got to drag him down
Out of that place and go to town
And stop it.
The Legion hid him in the cracks.
Sometimes he’s got my father’s axe;
I hope he drops it.

Somewhere up in the nether
Demons hide.
Prince lurks up in the nether –
It’s long since time he died.

If demons get to be revived
Without a timer,
Why oh why can’t I?

Garrosh walks to a window and looks out. A stage light illuminates the edge of the stage again, this time revealing the burning ruins of Camp Taurajo.

Garrosh steps back into the room and, slowly at first but with increasing speed and urgency, begins running around the room, knocking over and smashing furniture. Dizzying music fades in as Garrosh continues; he runs around in circles, destroying everything he can reach. The stage lights dim until the room itself fades from view and the only thing visible is Garrosh – running in circles, lashing at his invisible surroundings, moving with increasing speed until he starts to blur into a whirlwind of anger.

The lights slowly come up to show that the Northwatch Hold tower has been replaced by the deck of a goblin sky galleon. The ship is spinning in air, such that the rotation of the ship gradually comes to replace Garrosh’s running; he now stands on the deck as the galleon spins around, tossed in circles by a literal whirlwind.

The lights fade to black while the dizzying music continues – growing louder – then a loud crash is heard. The stage lights come up again, showing the sky galleon wrecked on the ground amid the ruins of Theramore. For the first time, the scene is visible in full color.  Garrosh is sprawled out on the ground near the wreckage, unconscious. Mortimer flies in and approaches. He prods Garrosh carefully with one paw; Garrosh stirs and starts to get up.

GARROSH: <rubbing his head with one hand while patting Mortimer with the other> Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, buddy…

Garrosh turns to the wreckage of the galleon and notices a woman’s legs sticking out from under it.

Huh. She’s not okay, though, whoever she is. Was.

Garrosh looks around the ruins, then back to the galleon. As he turns away, several goblins begin to emerge slowly from behind pieces of the ruins.

Hmm… Mortimer, I don’t think we’re in Northgate anymore… Looks like Theramore…so…so that would make HER—

SPAZZLE: <running to the wreckage> The Witch! She’s dead! The Wicked Witch is dead!

More goblins appear and gather closer around the wreckage.

GARROSH: Hang on, the witch? You mean like a mage?

SPAZZLE: Well, it’s kind of a blanket term.

GARROSH: But is THIS one a mage?

KHIZZARA: Not anymore!

GARROSH: Yeah, fine, I get it, she’s dead. What I’m trying to find out is if she’s—

GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE: She’s dead!

DYSLIX SILVERGRUB: Dead!

KRIXIL SLOGSWITCH: The Witch is dead!

KHIZZARA: Woot!

GARROSH: Fine, fuck it, I’ll check it out myself.

Garrosh takes hold of the edge of the wreckage and, grunting, lifts it a few feet.

UGH! GROSS!

Garrosh releases the galleon and it crashes back onto the body. One hand is left flopping limply out from under the wreckage; a glowing blue orb falls out of its palm and rolls across the ground.

Definitely Jaina, though. Gotta say, not exactly a glorious way to go out. <chuckles> Oh well. Live on your back, die on your back, right?

The blue sphere rolls further. In a puff of smoke, Liadrin appears in the sphere’s path. She is wearing the paladin Lightsworn robes and has the wings of Avenging Wrath permanently glowing on her back. She leans down and picks up the orb.

LIADRIN: Are you the one who’s slain the Wicked Witch of the East and freed the Mudsprockets?

GARROSH: What, Jaina? Yeah, that was me, I guess.

GOBLINS: Hooray!

GARROSH: So hang on, who are all you people?

LIADRIN: I am the Good Witch of the North. And the Mudsprockets live here in the marsh.

RAZBO RUSTGEAR: Under the tyrannical reign of the Wicked Witch of the East!

KHIZZARA: Not anymore!

GOBLINS: Hooray!

GARROSH: Jaina had a tyrannical reign?

SPAZZLE: Well, more like some pretty strict local ordinances on fireworks and explosives.

KHIZZARA: Not anymore!

GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE: Splodey-ville, here we come!

GOBLINS: Hooray!

GARROSH: Okay, whatever. You’re happy she’s dead, I’m happy she’s dead, it’s all cool. One less thorn in my side, gotta tell you.

 

{WHAM, BAM, THE BITCH IS DEAD}

GARROSH:

Wham! Bam! The bitch is dead!

GOBLINS:

Which? Which bitch?

GARROSH:

The Proudmoore bitch!
Wham! Bam! The Proudmoore bitch is dead!
I landed on her head,
She wished she woulda stood in bed.
Flat splat, the Proudmoore bitch is dead!

GOBLINS:

She won’t stop the goblins now –
Kapow! Kapow! Kapow!
So now, let’s open up and blast,
At last! Let’s rock some rockets!
Wham bam, she got put down,
A new sheriff is in town!
Don’t you frown, the Wicked Witch is dead!

Drazzit Dripvalve approaches wearing a top hat and comically flamboyant ceremonial attire.

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

As Mayor of dear Mudsprocket,
In the shadow of the Witch’s lair,
I welcome you effusively!

GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE:

But it must be proved conclusively,
To know…

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

To know?

GIZZIX GRIMGURGLE:

That blow…

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

That blow?

GIZZIX GRIMGURGLE:

Has utterly, totally,

KRIXIL SLOGSWITCH:

Not just anecdotally!

RAZBO RUSTGEAR:

Determinately, permanently,

GOBLINS:

Undiminishedly gone and finished her off.

SPAZZLE:

I went ahead and checked her out,
And I can say without a doubt
That she’s not just flatter than most:
She’s totally and truly toast.

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

Then today we’ll fire our rockets!
Celebrating free Mudsprockets!
Now spread the word! Let none neglect!
The Wicked Witch just got shipwrecked!

GOBLINS:

Wham! Bam! The Witch is dead!
Which? Which Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Wham! Bam! The Wicked Witch is dead!
He landed on her head,
She wished she woulda stood in bed.

GARROSH:

Flat splat, the Proudmoore bitch is dead!

GOBLINS:

She won’t stop the goblins now –
Kapow! Kapow! Kapow!
So now, let’s open up and blast,
At last! Let’s rock some rockets!
Wham bam, she got put down,
A new sheriff is in town!
Don’t you frown, the Wicked Witch is dead!

From above, Magatha Grimtotem swoops in, riding her wind serpent Arikara. Cackling maniacally, she casts chain lightning down at the Mudsprockets, who scatter and try to take cover.

GARROSH: What the fuck is SHE doing here?

LIADRIN: It’s the Wicked Witch of the West!

GARROSH: How many fucking Wicked Witches do you people HAVE around here?

LIADRIN: Two—

KHIZZARA: Not anymore!

LIADRIN: Well, yes, one now. But this one is even worse than the Wicked Witch of the East ever was.

GARROSH: Preaching to the choir, lady.

Magatha unleashes another burst of chain lightning; Garrosh and Liadrin dive out of the way. Mortimer launches into the air, snarling, and swipes at Arikara.

GARROSH: Yeah! Go get ’em, Mortimer!

Mortimer’s strike knocks Magatha off of Arikara and sends her crashing to the ground. Shrieking, Arikara flies out of view. Magatha gets up and looks at Jaina’s legs poking out from under the wreckage. Mortimer returns to the ground, landing next to Garrosh.

MAGATHA: So it’s true! She’s dead! <looking around hurriedly> Where is it, then? It must be here!

LIADRIN: <holding up the blue sphere> Are you looking for this?

MAGATHA: The Focusing Iris! Yes! Once I combine its power with that of the Doomstone—

LIADRIN: You’ll do nothing of the kind, crone!

MAGATHA: You think I fear you, elf? I’ll take it from you if I have to!

Magatha starts to cast another chain lightning, but is interrupted when Garona – sporting the Fangs of the Father wings – unstealths and stunlocks her.

GARONA: Not so much, Steak Sauce!

GARROSH: So, who’s this supposed to be now?

LIADRIN: She’s the Morally Ambiguous Witch of the South-by-Southeast.

GARONA: Hey.

GARROSH: You people have some really weird fucking job titles, gotta say.

LIADRIN: You slayed the Wicked Witch of the East, so it’s only right that the Focusing Iris should go to you as its caretaker…

Liadrin hands the Iris to Garrosh.

What’s important is that it stays out of the hands of the crone at all cost.

GARROSH: Yeah, don’t worry, I am all about making her life unpleasant…

Arikara swoops by again, startling Garrosh and Liadrin into taking a few steps back; Magatha breaks out of her stun, jumps back, and puts down an earthbind totem that holds the others in place.

MAGATHA: I may need to bide my time for now, but the Iris will be mine yet! And as for you, orc – I’ll get you, my cranky, and your little wyvern, too!

Magatha leaps onto Arikara’s back and takes off.

LIADRIN: She’ll be back. I hope you can handle powerful enemies.

GARROSH: I’ve dealt with worse. Matter of fact, I was working on one just before I wound up here.

LIADRIN: What enemy was that?

GARROSH: A demon called Malchezaar – taking him out wouldn’t even be that big of a deal, but I kind of have to get him out of his lair in order to defeat him.

LIADRIN: Something you would need powerful magic to do?

GARROSH: Probably. Magic not really being my strong suit.

LIADRIN: I may know whose it is. You want to talk to the Wizard of Zhan.

GARROSH: The who now?

LIADRIN: The Wizard of Zhan! He’s a wise, mysterious mage who lives in the Dark Tower far away.

GARROSH: So this guy is pretty powerful?

LIADRIN: Extremely – they say there’s no end to what he can do.

GARONA: Let’s not get carried away now.

GARROSH: You know him?

GARONA: We’ve met.

GARROSH: So how do I get to him?

LIADRIN: The tower of Zhan is far to the east of Dustwallow, in the Pass of Dying Winds. Luckily for you, the eastward Gold Road will take you straight there.

Liadrin points to the yellow brick road beneath their feet.

GARROSH: Well that’s convenient.

GARONA: I can go with you, since I know the Wizard.

LIADRIN: You should get started – it’s a long trip, especially since you’ll be walking.

GARROSH: Screw walking, I’ve got my wyvern right here. I can just hop on and fly along the road.

GARONA: Great! I can get on behind you and hold onto you.

GARROSH: Okay, so walking it is. Grats on the dodged bullet, Mortimer.

GARONA: Fine.

LIADRIN: We’ll see you off! Good luck on your journey!

GARROSH: Hey, actually…you said this road leads right to Zhan?

LIADRIN: Yes, it does.

GARROSH: Even though there’s an ocean between here and there? Because we’re kind of on a different continent.

LIADRIN: Yes, but fortunately the road runs across the Willing Suspension Bridge of Disbelief.

GARROSH: Huh. Okay then. Off we go.

Garrosh, Garona, and Mortimer start to follow the road while the Mudsprockets gather behind them.

 

{OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD}

GOBLINS:

You’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan.
We hear he’s sage: the mightiest mage
Who ever met mortal man.
If you seek some sorcery for your plan,
The Wizard’s your man, because he can –
He can, he can, he can, he can, he can.
He’ll have it all done before it began!
You’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan!

The curtains close.

{TO BE CONTINUED IN ACT 2…}