Tag Archives: ashenvale
Oh bother
You know how, after Pilgrim’s Bounty, you always wind up having so much leftover turkey and stuffing and whatnot that you look in your kitchen and think, “How am I EVER going to eat all this stuff?” And then the answer ends up being that you eat that shit for every meal every day until you get so sick of it you swear you’re never going to eat turkey again for as long as you live?
Yeah, well let me tell you, having a bunch of pandaren around fixes that problem DAMN quick. I don’t know what this “Huojin” thing is that these pandas all belong to, but I wouldn’t be surprised at all if “Huojin” turned out to translate as “Are you going to finish that?”
Anyway, speaking of the pandas, Ji Firepaw has been taking his people around Kalimdor to get the lay of the land, chip in to help where they can (read: busywork), and get some experience for the greener pandas in the group. And that’s all good, but I’m also starting to get the distinct impression that Ji is going to be a whole bunch of work. Case in point: earlier today he was taking some of the Panda Brigade around in Ashenvale when he spotted some bees buzzing around the top of a tree. And I figure ol’ Ji must have thought to himself, “The only reason for there to be bees is for them to make honey. And the only reason for them to make honey is so I can eat it.” Because, you know, always thinking with his stomach.
So, from what the other pandas tell me, Ji tried to climb up the tree, but that wasn’t happening because cellulite, so he came running back to Orgrimmar to get working on Plan B. And you know that hot air balloon that the pandas used to come here from the Wandering Isle? The one that they’ve got hovering over their digs in the Valley of Honor? Yeah, well, Ji hopped on up onto the balloon, and back to Ashenvale he went.
All of this for some damn honey, by the way. You realize we have, like, vendors selling the shit by the case, right?
But boy oh boy, Ji didn’t think of that, because apparently you just don’t fucking think straight when you’re a panda who hasn’t eaten in like five minutes. So off he went with his balloon, and floated his way over to Ashenvale and right on up to the honey tree, and wound up dangling himself from the balloon trying to reach in for his snack. And you know what he found out? Brace yourselves: BEES DON’T FUCKING LIKE IT WHEN YOU MESS WITH THEIR HONEY. Can you believe that shit?
So now Ji’s dangling up there while trying to swat bees away from himself, and all his thrashing around sends the balloon floating away from the bee hive and crashing into ANOTHER tree. And get this — in the process, he managed to fly right into a hole in THAT tree, and jam himself in there right up to the waist, nice and tight.
Seriously, I like Ji, he seems like a good guy and all, but could dude be any more of a cartoon character?
Anyway, it was at this point that all of Ji’s panda buddies came scrambling into Grommash Hold to ask for help, so I headed over to check on the absurdity in progress. I flew up with Mortimer to where Ji’d gotten himself stuck and tried to yank him out, without much luck. I tried giving him a talking to while I was up there, but I think it fell on deaf ears — I was like, “Dude, did the thought never cross your mind that the bees might not like you fucking with their hive?”, but all he had to say was “Well, you can never tell with bees.”
It was pretty clear by then that we weren’t going to pull Ji out of the tree from up there, so I called in a few peons from the Warsong Lumber Camp to chop the damn tree down.
Ji broke three ribs and an arm in the fall. “Bouncy” my ass.
Punch line, by the way? Turns out, the hole in the second tree was actually home to a second bee hive. I don’t know where THOSE bees went off to, whether they got knocked out of the tree when Ji went careening into it, or if they saw the ridiculousness happening and went “Fuck this shit, we’re out,” or what. But they were long gone, which meant that while we were busy trying to get Ji down, he was busy stuffing his face with honey. So even when we got the tree down, fat lot of good — literally — trying to pull Ji out. Instead, the Warsong boys just cut away as much of the tree as possible around Ji…who’s going to be stuck walking around wearing a nice snug wooden belt until his newly mandated diet starts to kick in.
Pandas.
Monday mailbag
So now that THAT whole pain in the ass down in Karazhan is over with, it’s time to get to some overdue mail. Hopefully now that I’m out of the Opera House, nobody will spontaneously burst into song. Although, true fact: much to my surprise, Utvoch turns out to have a downright enchanting singing voice. Who knew?
Anyway, let’s have a look at what we’ve got this time around…
Nothing much to say, but … OOOOHHHHHH YEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHH!
Naysayers there may be, but they should know this: Theramore was an intact government center, a base for munitions and supplies, and an important logistical link for Alliance forces in the Barrens. It is now none of these things.
(And bonus points for anyone who can recognize the EO NPC I swiped the quote from!)
–A Concerned Citizen
Hey, ACC. Glad you had a good time on the Theramore mission.
That said…look, I’m glad that you’re all-in for this war with the Alliance, and believe you me, it’s nice to have frigging SOMEBODY around here who doesn’t go all “pooh-pooh, oh heavens, how could you, Garrosh?” over every single act of war taken against the fuckers with whom, you know, we’re at war. So that’s all good stuff.
But dude…you’re REALLY enjoying this a little too much. Dial down the bloodthirsty just a LITTLE, will you? And seriously, do you really understand how bad it has to be to make ME have to say that?
Also, I totally know where you got that quote from, but I’ll hold off on saying anything so everyone else can have a crack at it in the comments or the next batch of letters. I’ll give you all a hint, though — the NPC that ACC is riffing on isn’t someone you interact with directly in the game, but he shows up in one of those cut scenes that they use to fill in some of the in-game backstory. Now have at it, lore nerds — AND NO GOOGLING!
This letter arrives with the crumbling remains of what might have once been a piece of cake, and when opened, fills the reader’s lap with loose glitter. It is written in multiple colors of ink, liberally dusted with more glitter. In the margins are sketches, mostly of Ashenvale, though orcs feature prominently near the bottom. The handwriting is shaky and wanders across the page, but is mostly legible.
Deer Mr Warcheif Sir,
It was my berth-day yestirday! I am 20. I had lots of cak. I sent you sum. I hop you like it. After cak, Mr Hi Cheiftin Bane askd me to go to Ashnval. He wasnt mad that I drew on his reports. Evryon else was tho. They all got so mad when they saw. All I did was mak them pretti! Mr Banes reports wer just wirds, lots and lots and lots and lots of wirds, and thats boring. I mad them less boring. But they all got mad. So after they gav me cak they had Mr Bane ask me to go to Ashnval. Its pretti in Ashnval! Its all sparkli and glittri! I hop you like glittr. I sent you sum. And I met Mr U agin! He told me what you sed, Mr Warcheif Sir. He red it from a glowi thing he sed was calld a kumputr. I want a kumputr to. They look lik fun. He was playng what he called Urth Onlin. That looks lik fun to. He sed you play Urth Onlin to, Mr Warcheif Sir. Can I play to?
The letter is signed with an inked pawprint and the name “Taktani” in multicolored inks.
Hoo boy.
Okay, well, maybe it’s just my imagination, but I think her spelling is at least a little better than last time.
Slightly.
Okay, yeah, maybe not. HEAD HURTS.
Luckily, I think I’ve got a way to make this a little less painful, courtesy of Spazzle. See, the little green dude’s been tinkering around with a computer app that converts other languages and dialects into Common, so maybe we can give it a whirl and see what we get. Here goes…
Taktani said: It was my berth-day yestirday! I am 20. I had lots of cak. I sent you sum. I hop you like it.
TranslationMaster 2000 says: Yesterday was my 20th birthday. I had lots of cake. I’ve sent you some. I hope you like it.
Okay, so far so good. So first of all, happy birthday, I guess, as of like a month ago, based on the date of this letter.
Second of all, yeah, I like cake, but like…this stuff you enclosed in the letter? That shit ain’t cake. Maybe it was cake when you sent it, but it sure as hell isn’t cake now. Now it’s like the Granular Substance Formerly Known as Cake. Never mind it being edible — at this point it looks more like something that might try to crawl out of Faranell’s lab. Matter of fact, excuse me for a second while I go kill it before it develops language skills. Which, in the process, by the way, it might still end up beating out the writer of this particular letter.
But third of all — WTF you had CAKE for your birthday? You’re a TAUREN, and you had lots of CAKE?! I went to Thunder Bluff for BAINE’S birthday, and the only snacks they had were jerky and pine nuts and…like…hay…and yet YOU somehow manage to get fucking CAKE? How the hell does THAT happen?
Taktani said: After cak, Mr Hi Cheiftin Bane askd me to go to Ashnval. He wasnt mad that I drew on his reports. Evryon else was tho. They all got so mad when they saw. All I did was mak them pretti! Mr Banes reports wer just wirds, lots and lots and lots and lots of wirds, and thats boring. I mad them less boring. But they all got mad.
TranslationMaster 2000 says: After cake, High Chieftain Baine Bloodhoof sent me to Ashenvale. He wasn’t mad that I drew on his reports, but everyone else was when they saw what I had done. All I did was make them pretty! Baine’s reports were just enormous walls of text (possibly ghost-written by Tirion). I cut down on the TL;DR factor by making them less boring. But everyone (other than Baine) got mad.
So I’ve got to say, I am endlessly amused by the thought that Taktani apparently doodled all over Baine’s reports and then Baine’s advisors all started getting pissy over it. It kind of reminds me of the first couple months I was Warchief — sometimes I would get bored filling out requisition forms and scribble a few little pictures in the margins, and Eitrigg would get all uptight over it when he went to review the forms. Personally I kind of liked the little cartoon stick-figure of Thrall I came up with, with the word balloon going “BLAH BLAH BLAH I’M SO AWESOME,” but that seemed to make Eitrigg especially cranky.
Also, I think this might explain why Baine’s last few reports have come in kind of late.
Taktani said: So after they gav me cak they had Mr Bane ask me to go to Ashnval. Its pretti in Ashnval! Its all sparkli and glittri! I hop you like glittr. I sent you sum.
TranslationMaster 2000 says: After my birthdaycake, Baine’s irate advisors demanded he send me to Ashenvale. It’s pretty in Ashenvale! It’s all sparkly and glittery. I hope you like glitter, which I say without irony because I’ve clearly never met you or formed any accurate sense of your actual personality. I sent you some, collected directly from the trees of Ashenvale, which ooze glitter in the same way normal trees exude sap.
OMG NOT THE FUCKING GLITTER AGAIN. If there’s one thing I hate about Ashenvale, other than the demonic influence, and the Alliance strongholds, and the fact that our western operations are being inexplicably stymied by the fucking Thistlefur furbolgs, and the lingering bitterness of my mother appearing to have been killed in Demon Fall Canyon, and the less said about my whole bright idea with the magnataur the better…yeah, other than that stuff, if there’s one thing I hate about Ashenvale? THE FUCKING GLITTER.
Taktani said: And I met Mr U agin! He told me what you sed, Mr Warcheif Sir. He red it from a glowi thing he sed was calld a kumputr. I want a kumputr to. They look lik fun.
TranslationMaster2000: And I met Utvoch again! He read me your answer to my last letter from his computer. I want a computer, too. They look like fun.
Okay, so I guess she must have crossed paths with Dontrag and Utvoch while he was on his way back to Stonetalon after the post-Theramore non-celebration business. Also you’ll notice from that last sentence just how unnatural it is to see someone talking about just ONE of the Dumbass Duo. I have to admit I’m more than a little disturbed by this. I’m not sure if Taktani somehow missed the fact that there was a SECOND imbecile there, or if something even more baffling happened and something actually SEPARATED those two, which as far as I know has only happened once before and it took the insistence of a fucking DRAGON ASPECT to make happen.
And speaking of disturbing details, is anybody else starting to really, really worry that the writer who penned this literary masterpiece of a letter is apparently hanging out with UTVOCH? And…now wants a computer? Does anyone else see this potential perfect storm of virtual brain cancer in the making?
So, you know what? No. No, you can’t have a computer. Ever.
Taktani said: He was playng what he called Urth Onlin. That looks lik fun to. He sed you play Urth Onlin to, Mr Warcheif Sir. Can I play to?
TranslationMaster 2000 says: Utvoch was playing Earth Online. That looks fun, too, which is a peculiar thing to say, insofar as most MMO’s barely even look fun to the people actually playing them. He said you also play Earth Online, Mr. Warchief. Can I play, too?
No. No, you can’t. You cannot play Earth Online too. A thousand gallons of no. See the reasons above, then add about 73 additional ones. For instance, here’s #27: I do not want to get stuck being the one having to explain to her the “Anal [Class Ability]” jokes in trade chat. (Especially if I feel like I came up with a particularly clever one, because it just plain spoils the fun when you have to explain your own jokes.)
Also, random thought here, but some of these translations are a lot more pointed than I would have expected. Go figure.
Anyway, Taktani…instead of getting a computer and playing Earth Online — neither of which things you should ever do, like ever in the everest of ever — I’d recommend knocking yourself out up there in Ashenvale on all the busywork very important missions we have up there. If you run out of things to do over there, maybe swing by Stonetalon. Wait, hang on, D&U are in Stonetalon, scratch that. Try Desolace instead. Desolace or the Southern Barrens. On paper those areas might be a little dangerous for you, but who are we kidding? We’re way too conservative sizing up the danger levels of the different territories, and most of the time when we send people to their assignments they just wind up facerolling shit. Be a little ambitious. Go nuts. Which I kinda think you might already have, anyway.
I think that’s about as much as my will to live can take for one day, so let’s wrap it up here and be back in a couple weeks with more reader mail. As always, keep those e-mails coming to garrosh1337@gmail.com.
Monday mailbag
So yeah, I know I’m just getting this mailbag in under the wire for it to count as Monday, but whatever, it’s hard to get a stable internet connection out here in the fucking swamp. I’m writing from the field as we make our final march into Dustwallow Marsh. I figured I haven’t answered any mail for a while, so it might be good to offer up a few messages from the my loyal Horde minions before we but a roflstomping on the humans.
Let’s see what we’ve got…
Written on a heavy parchment in multicolored inks, the first impression of this letter is one of chaos. Small sketches of Tauren, prairie wolves, swoops, and other sights of Mulgore clutter the margins, at times encroaching on the text itself. The sketches are obviously done quickly, but with moderate skill; the subjects are clearly recognizable even though the drawings are rough and unfinished. In contrast, the words meander across the page, crooked and shaky, with the occasional backwards letter. Many times a word will be started in one color of ink and finished in another, as if the writer got distracted halfway through the word.
Dear Mistr Warcheif Sir,
I have a question, and the nice ork Mistr U told me to write to you and ask. Hes visiting, and hes been reel nice to me. He talks a lot. Sumtimes I cant ask him anything because he talks too much. But he told me to ask you. He said you would kno. I wanted to ask if brown orks taste diffrent than green orks. Do green orks taste like mint? Are brown orks chocklate? Tauren taste like fur. Why are you brown when the other orks are green? Did you eat too much chocklate? Everyone tells me I cant eat too much chocklate, itll make me sick. Did you get sick from chocklate? Mistr U needs to go now, so I have to stop riting and give this to him.
The letter is signed with a large, inky pawprint, a small sketch of a Tauren druid in cat form, and the shaky name “Taktani,” with every letter in a different color ink.
Um…
Hmm…
Well…
<scratches head>
The FUCK is this?
Okay, so I get that the talkative orc this person is talking about is probably Utvoch… I mean, starts with “U” and talks too much, how many of those could there be? And I guess this is good since it confirms D&U must still be alive in the restored timeline after…well…you know. Um…I GUESS that’s a good thing. Not sure what Utvoch is doing in Mulgore rather than Vindication Hold up in Stonetalon, but whatever. I guess being killed in the line of duty earns you a little R&R time.
As for you, Taktani…um, no, brown orcs don’t taste like chocolate, and green orcs don’t taste like mint. Although it IS kind of funny thinking of that, since it would mean, what, Thrall and Aggra are going to have mint chocolate chip babies? Heh. But no, we just taste like….orc. I mean for real, I get enough attention from the ladies as it is, what with me being Warchief and dead sexy and all — last thing I need is for word to start getting around that I taste like chocolate too. Dude, I won’t be able to walk down the fucking STREET.
Anyway, Taktani, thanks for writing just the same. Hopefully you’ve outgrown Tauren Kindergarten-Land in Mulgore, and are off doing some bigger-kid stuff. The Horde can always use more good soldiers, especially on my watch with me looking far and wide for ways to keep the troops busy. Ashenvale’s looking pretty nice this time of year, if I can make a recommendation. Just don’t get too much of the damn night elf glitter in your eyes.
I’m writing’ to ya from one of our ships headin’ down to Theramore! I’m on a boat, mon!
Make sure ya watch it to da end, mon!
–Bob, S.S. Echo Isles
I… he… what the hell IS this, the mailbag of WTF?!
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that this Bob guy managed to dig up a new and creative way to be stupid. Funny, though, I’m pretty sure that’s the song I’ve been hearing Vol’jin humming to himself for most of the trip down. Maybe it’s some kind of a troll thing…
Time is short, in more ways than one. I’m writing this for those of us on the road to Theramore.
The hour of assault approaches. There may be some who doubt why we’re here. Why we’re doing this. Why we must. The reason can be given in one word: Taurajo. A hunters’ camp, not a military target, annihilated by marauding Alliance soldiers. Soldiers, I say? I misspoke: they weren’t soldiers, they were bandits. Bandits supplied, equipped, and brought to Kalimdor through one place and one place only.
That is why Theramore must burn.
That is also why I make what may sound like a peculiar request. When we make the final assault, those of us who aren’t compelled otherwise should wear Thunder Bluff’s colors. Not only will this show our solidarity with our Tauren brothers, it will also remind those cowards why we come. To remind them that Justice neither relents, nor sleeps.
For the Horde! And for Taurajo!
–A Concerned Citizen
Now THAT’S what I’m talking about! Go to it, ACC, lay some truth on them motherfuckers! I’ve got to say, one thing that’s fucking infuriated me on this trip has been seeing how many of our people HAVEN’T on board with me with the post-Taurajo hate. Check this out — I even heard a rumor that Baine was telling people that Taurajo was a legitimate military target, and the human commander at least gave the civilians room to flee, and he wonders if we’ll conduct ourselves as honorably. This is BAINE talking. BAINE. THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT? In what backwards-ass universe am I more pissed off about Camp T than chieftain of the fucking tauren?!
Anyway, I’m definitely encouraging the troops to follow your suggestion, ACC. And on that note, we’re about to spit up the force for the final march. I’ll update again soon…can’t wait to see the looks on the humans’ faces. I’ve got a little surprise planned for them…
Could we have the demons back?
We stopped at Splintertree Post first, but there was no Mortimer there. I was pretty much guessing as far as where to look for him, since I’d originally found him at Hellscream’s Reach, which, well, doesn’t exist as an outpost in this world. Our next stop was Silverwind Refuge, and there we finally had some luck. Good and bad, actually, depending on how you count.
On the good: among the windrider master’s batch of wyverns, I spotted that familiar mane. I’m not sure if he somehow remembered me from the other timeline, or if there’s just something about me that drew him to me in either world, or if it’s that I knew to call him by name – whatever it was, Mortimer saw me approaching, climbed down from his perch, and came right over. I notified Wind Tamer Shoshok that one of her wyverns was being requisitioned.
On the mixed-bag-ish: well…
DRANOSH: I know you said you need to go gather some information, but you know we could just give you any number of wyverns.
GARROSH: You can give Mokvar any number of wyverns.
DRANOSH: What’s so special about this one?
GARROSH: <chuckles> I wouldn’t even know where to start.
While Garrosh and Dranosh talk, there’s a murmuring among the Silverwind troops behind them, followed by the voice of…
UTVOCH: Warchief!
DRANOSH and GARROSH: <turning and overlapping> What?
UTVOCH: So glad to see you, sir! You won’t believe what’s been going on lately!
GARROSH: Um, Utvoch, are you talking to me or the Warchief here? You seem confused.
MOKVAR: “Utvoch, you seem confused.” There’s something you never hear.
DRANOSH: Uh, Garrosh, do you know this person?
MOKVAR: Not yet.
GARROSH: <rubbing forehead> Yeah, yeah, I do. Kind of. Warchief, let me introduce Scout Utvoch. I’ve had…some dealings with him…in the past.
UTVOCH: Sir! A great honor to see you again, sir, a very great inconceivable relief—
GARROSH: <smacks Utvoch> That’s not what that word means in any reality.
MOKVAR: Garrosh, you know, if Utvoch is here, that probably means…
DONTRAG: <calling from a distance while sprinting over> Utvoch! What are you doing?
GARROSH: <perks an eyebrow at Mokvar> You just had to jinx us, didn’t you?
Mortimer cringes and edges back from Dontrag and Utvoch.
UTVOCH: Dontrag! Look, Garrosh is here, and I’m just telling him and the Warchief—
DONTRAG: Oh for goodness’ sake, Ut, are you going to start bothering them with that idiocy about you being somewhere else only it’s not somewhere else only there’s nobody there except you other than the people who are there that aren’t here?
GARROSH: <spins to Mokvar> See? SEE? I told you!
UTVOCH: I’m telling you it’s true, Dontrag! I really was seeing it and – <turns back to Garrosh> and – and it wasn’t a dream of a hallucinationatory or anything!
DONTRAG: Idiot, you were standing right next to me every time you said it happened and I didn’t see a blasted thing.
DRANOSH: So, okay, who is this one, then?
GARROSH: This is Sergeant Dontrag, Utvoch’s…well, I’m not going to say “better half”…
MOKVAR: They kind of come as a set.
GARROSH: Kind of like peas in an incredibly retarded pod that almost, not quite but almost, makes you hope the demons win.
DRANOSH: That’s not funny, actually.
DONTRAG: I… High Overlord… I’m honored that you know me, sir. A great vast honor to think that my reputation would have reached you all the way in Orgrimmar, sir!
GARROSH: Wait, what?
MOKVAR: <aside to Garrosh> Uh, you never would have met them here. Utvoch only remembers you because…you know… <does Nozdormu’s “wibbly wobbly, timey whimey” hand motion>
GARROSH: <aside to Mokvar> Oh…yeah…right… <to Dontrag> Right, well, see, Dontrag, I always make a point of keeping an eye on the, um, performance of all our soldiers. Just part of my job.
DONTRAG: Oh, um, really…?
DRANOSH: It is?
DRO SHADOWFREE: <chiming in from nearby> Have you been satisfied with my work as well, Overlord?
GARROSH: <spitting his words out curtly with a quick, annoyed glance at Dro> Shut the fuck up, you don’t matter.
DRO SHADOWFREE: Oh…
DONTRAG: An honor to meet you as well, Warchief. Please don’t let my friend here bother you with his idiocy.
UTVOCH: You’re one to talk about idiocy!
DRANOSH: So, um, Garrosh, is this one the brains of the operation or something?
MOKVAR: I think that question might make the universe cry.
GARROSH: Yeah, uh, not so much. Think of them more as covering complementary parts of the idiot spectrum.
DONTRAG: <crestfallen> I’m…sorry, sir…
DRANOSH: So why are these two important again?
GARROSH: They’re not. They’re really, really not.
MOKVAR: Garrosh, if I could make a suggestion…we might actually want to bring them with us.
GARROSH: Dude, we’ve already watched the Burning Legion and Scourge overrun Orgrimmar, have we not suffered enough for one day?
MOKVAR: Well at least Utvoch. You know… <makes the “timey whimey” gesture again>
DONTRAG: Wait, why is he more important?
UTVOCH: Hah, suck it, Donty.
MOKVAR: More importantly, because of…you know who.
GARROSH: <eyes go wide a moment> Good point.
DRANOSH: Does someone want to fill me in?
GARROSH: Yeah. Right. Here’s the thing, Dranosh. Part of the idea I was talking about before, the way we might be able to undo everything that’s happened – it all depends on a human who was in Orgrimmar. A mage named Edwin Faranell. If we’re going to have any chance at all of doing this, we have to find him.
UTVOCH: Oh, hey, Edwin? But he’s still human now? It didn’t wear off or anything? I just figured he was still that way because of when that naaru soul crystal coldcocked him in the cellar.
DRANOSH: Okay, I’m going to give you thirty seconds to start making sense before I start taking an axe to you.
MOKVAR: Might as well save yourself thirty seconds and just kill him now.
GARROSH: POINT BEING. Utvoch knows Faranell, so he could be handy for helping look for him. Maybe.
DRANOSH: What’s so important about the mage?
GARROSH: It would take a really long time to explain. And a lot of it still wouldn’t make a lot of sense.
UTVOCH: It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me and I was there.
GARROSH: You just described LIFE for you.
UTVOCH: Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.
GARROSH: What’s important is that if we can’t find him, this whole plan is dead in the water.
MOKVAR: Last we saw him, he was on his way to the zeppelins with the last of the evacuees.
DRANOSH: Assuming he made it out, that would put him at either Thunder Bluff or Theramore.
GARROSH: Okay. So here’s the plan. I need some questions answered before we do anything else, and there’s only one place to get the answers. I’m going to take Mortimer here to Tanaris. I’ll need Mokvar with me. In the meantime, Dranosh, you’ve got to find Faranell.
DRANOSH: <grins half-heartedly> You’re the boss, Overlord. I’ll do a search in Theramore first and get our forces organized for a second front against the Legion. After that, I can head to Thunder Bluff.
GARROSH: We’ll meet you there after we’re done on our end.
DONTRAG: A question, Overlord?
GARROSH: <sighs> Yes, Dontrag.
DONTRAG: Who’s this Mortimer person?
“Wait, he named his wyvern ‘Mortimer’?” “I think that was already his name.” “Who gave it that name?” “I think they said he just already had it himself.” “How’s that possible? The wyvern named itself?” “I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?” “I don’t speak wyvern, Ut.” “You barely speak orcish, Donty.”
Spazzle Speaks: Mailbag Request
Hey, what’s up?
Spazzle here again. Just wanted to chime in and give everybody an update, and also make a request. Garrosh has been getting back to normal again the last few days. (Well, about as normal as things get for him.) (I probably should have known better than to say that. He does read this sometimes.) But he’s still taking everything pretty hard. I can’t really blame him; I can’t imagine what it must be like to find your long-lost mom again, then lose her, then… <sigh> Anyway, he left last night to go back to Nagrand for a few days. He’s staying in contact with us here in Orgrimmar, but some time out there will probably do him good.
I have a request for everybody for when he gets back again. Garrosh has been so busy dealing with everything else lately that he really hasn’t had much of a chance to check on his mail. I think maybe having some letters to respond to might help him get his mind off of everything else that’s been going on, and let him get back in a more comfortable space. So if you guys could be sending him some mail, maybe a few random Warchief-ish questions like the old days, I think it might do him some good.
Or, maybe even better, you could take a different approach to helping him via the mail. Maybe a show of solidarity. If you happen to find yourself near Demon Fall Canyon in Ashenvale, or the Ancestral Grounds in Nagrand, maybe take a minute to stop and pay your respects? To Grom, or Lakkara, or both…and Garrosh by extension. If you include a picture of yourself there in your note to the Warchief, that could be nice for him to see, to know he’s not going it alone. Maybe even toss the picture up on your own blog if you have one, since I know Garrosh reads around quite a bit, even if he usually stays a lurker.
If you ever need anything,
Spazzle
March of the dead
Word just in from Ashenvale – Captain Tarkan’s scouts have found the surviving human from the attack in Demon Fall Canyon. Or, what’s left of him. His remains were found in Talondeep Vale. From the looks of it he was making a run for the Talondeep Pass and just didn’t make it before his injuries caught up with him.
The body had nothing with it other than some minimal survival gear. In other words…the human body was the only body they found. No sign of Lakkara. So…either the human passed her body off to someone else sometime before he died, or…I don’t know what. I’d rather not think about any more possibilities, honestly.
The human was probably trying to make it through the pass into Stonetalon Mountains. I suppose he COULD have been heading for Stardust Spire, but if his goal was to get to a friendly Alliance outpost, considering his injuries, it would have made a lot more sense for him to make a run for Raynewood Retreat or Forest Song, both of which would have been a lot closer. So we have to figure he was headed for Stonetalon.
I’m not sure why, though. I don’t know why Stonetalon rather that somewhere else, especially while he was carrying Lakkara’s remains. But I’m more than a little troubled by the fact that that’s where the business with Grebo got started as well. Somehow or other Stonetalon is in the middle of this.
I’m reassigning Krog from Brackenwall Village to Cliffwalker Post, and sending word to Overlord Cliffwalker that I want Dontrag and Utvoch sent out to do some additional scouting. I want Krog’s detective skills up there – his abilities as an inspector will be a lot more helpful there than with the current goings-on in Dustwallow Marsh – but otherwise I’d rather keep the search efforts limited to those already in the know.
Updates as they become available.
Lifetime piling up
I killed her. Me and my big mouth.
Not literally. But I might as well have. t was enough that she died because I left myself vulnerable when Grebo attacked. But Grebo just BEING there was my fault.
I had to go yammering on in guild chat about where I was going with her. Not even thinking about who might be there listening in. How many times do I have to run into people pretending to be something they’re not on the internet before I get it through my thick skull? And so, there they were, Varian Wrynn and Jaina Proudmoore, right there in my own guild, soaking it all in. I might as well have sent them fucking invitations and enclosed a poisoned blade. And lo and behold, a pack of humans turn up out of nowhere.
It’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s the only time I talked to anyone about where we were going, other than my mother herself and a few of the guards we passed leaving Orgrimmar and traveling through Ashenvale.
I know what you’re thinking – how to account for Grebo. He’s still an orc, right? So why would he be working with humans if that’s who’s behind this? And see, that’s where you’re just looking at the surface. Grebo WAS an orc. That thing that attacked me in Demon Fall Canyon? That was Grebo’s reanimated corpse. I’ve been talking to Draz’Zilb out of Brackenwall Village – he’s no stranger to necromancy, and he tells me that when someone is resurrected, there’s a whole range of possibilities as far as how much of the actual person is still there. Maybe it’s the entire being come back whole. Maybe it’s an empty shell, walking around wearing the original person’s face. Maybe it’s any of a million points in between, any combination of memories, motivations, personality, will…anyway, he tells me it wouldn’t be much of a stretch at all to rig things so whoever you’re raising is going to be perfectly cooperative, whoever you happen to be.
No shock to anyone, I’ve been going over and over this in my head all day. I ended up needing to get out of my war room and get some air, so I took Mortimer for a ride around Durotar. I was planning just to fly around some and hopefully clear my head, but on one loop around we passed over Tiragarde Keep. And I happened to look down.
Humans.
So I landed. An hour later and I was still there. Not even rushing around, just taking my time, wandering through the keep, cutting down any humans I could find.
Usually we’ve been content to leave this human outpost alone – it doesn’t pose any real threat, and the humans there are weak even by human standards, and in a way they’re handy to have around as a training exercise for some of our up-and-comers out of Razor Hill. Send the young blood over, have them take out some easy human pickings, we keep the cockroach population under control and the kids feel like they’ve accomplished something. Everybody wins.
Not today. Today I’m in no mood to humor them. Today I’m done tolerating their presence, these pathetic vermin daring – PRESUMING – to claim a foothold in our lands. These two-legged rats from Theramore (THERAMORE), sitting here almost within eyeshot of Orgrimmar… I’m done with them. They’re like animals – every action I’ve ever known them to take shows it. WORSE than animals, even – at least a dog understands loyalty, and a wyvern has some instinctive sense of honor. Like animals, but less. So I slaughtered them like animals.
It was a good afternoon. While it lasted.
A long time ago I swore I’d make the humans regret the crimes they’ve committed against our people. Somehow I let those words become just that: words. Got lazy, grew complacent, contented myself with sitting around on a throne made out of the skull of an enemy I didn’t even kill myself and puffing out my chest like I’d done enough.
No more.
Legionnaire Nazgrim finally returned home to Orgrimmar last week after extended duty in Vashj’ir. I’m promoting him to General and putting him in charge of the initial stages of what comes next. I’ll be laying out our military plans in the next few days, but I don’t plan on wasting much time before we get to work. I’ve already wasted enough. It’s time I got to work doing what I should have done long ago.
Kill them all.
All that you can’t leave behind
I stopped at Silverwind Refuge after I left Demon Fall Canyon, and left orders for Captain Tarkan to blanket the zone with as many scouting teams as he could pull together. I’ll send word over to Hellscream’s Watch to send out air patrols as well to watch the borders, but I can’t imagine that last human could keep traveling at much of a pace. Not if he’s as injured as he had to be, and not if he’s weighed down by carrying…never mind. Point is, I’ll be surprised if he’s not still in Ashenvale somewhere.
Grebo’s a whole other matter. He could be anywhere. So next up is an alert to all the border patrols. Notices to all the outpost commanders. Who to look for, and where he was last seen, and setting a messenger network to warn all the nearby stations if he’s spotted anywhere, in case he gets away again.
See. I’m staying on top of this. Doing the job. Keeping my mind on the job. Checking off all the boxes, hitting all the right protocols. Textbook.
Not letting myself think about that sound, from Grebo’s axe. Or of Lakkara crying out. Or how 99 times out of 100 I would never, ever let my back get turned to an oncoming enemy like that. Not going to think about all the ways I would usually square my body and turn to meet him and not give anybody else a chance to get close.
And I’m not letting myself start thinking about what they want with her. Why they would take her. Or who they even are. Or the fact that the last dead body they took an interest in was Grebo himself.
And I’m not thinking about that damn Demon Fall Canyon, that spirits-forsaken place that’s orphaned me twice now, on the exact same spot. Or how beautiful it’ll all look covered in bright, cleansing flames.
I’m not thinking about any of that at all.
I have work to do.
[Header image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks. Click here to see the souped-up Postcard version!]
When a good orc goes to war
Here’s an ugly fact: If you’ve spent enough time in battle – past the point where you get the rookie jitters, straight through to that point where the sight of blood doesn’t phase you anymore – you start to be able to hear the difference between types of blows. The flesh wounds, the cleaving slices, the glancing cuts, the deep hacks that hit bone…eventually you know just from the sound when a blow’s been landed that no garden variety mortal is going to walk away from.
Eventually you know that sound. You never mistake it.
I was hearing that sound a lot when my mother and I first arrived in Demon Fall Canyon. Like always, the place was crawling with lesser demons…droves of these piddly weak-ass infernals and succubi and felguards. When I came here once before, I mostly made my way around them – the pansy-ass fuckers were at least bright enough not to want anything to do with me – but this time I didn’t have much interest in sneaking around. So, we left a nice wide trail of chopped-up demons all the way to Grom’s monument.
I kept my distance and let Lakkara go up to the monument by herself. She knelt down next to it and read Thrall’s plaque, then cried for a while. When she finally composed herself again, she started talking quietly. I didn’t really try to listen in, only picked up little bits and pieces. Something about doing what she had to do to keep their son safe and untainted…that she was happy he found his way back, like she’d always hoped he would. That she wished she could have been there beside him at the end.
I didn’t go near the monument. I didn’t want to disturb her.
I was mostly off in my own thoughts and didn’t notice the rustling in the surrounding bushes until it was too late. Something hit me from behind – I couldn’t see right away – and then a voice from one of the nearby cliffs called out to me by name, and yelled something about me being a shortsighted fool, and I would lead the Horde to ruin because I wasn’t willing to make the tough choices. Monologuing away, true to bad guy form, which of course just gave me time to get my wits about me and see who it was.
Guess who. “Former General” Grebo, up and kicking again. I swear, doesn’t anybody stay dead anymore? Other than the ones who deserve better?
Meanwhile, I’d also been able to size up who had jumped me. There were four humans, all dressed in black, who’d gotten in a few hits to disorient me before I knew what was happening. Now, though, I’d gotten my second wind and had Gorehowl out. And then there were three humans. And then there were two.
While I was making short work of Grebo’s human lackeys, Grebo himself leapt down from the cliff behind me. I just caught him landing out of the corner of my eye as I was spinning to cut down another one of the humans – they really DO drop easily – but I managed to put a little TOO much energy into my swing, spun more than I’d meant to on the follow-through, and turned my back to Grebo as a result. Rookie mistake. I know better than that. And while I regained my footing, I could hear the footsteps running up behind me.
And then another set of footsteps. And a voice yelling “No!”
And then that sound.
Eventually…you know that sound. You never mistake it.
And then my mother’s voice crying out. And then nothing.
Lakkara collapsed to the ground. I turned and lunged at Grebo, but that final lackey of his managed to lock me up for a second. (Throwdown is considerably less fun when you’re on the other end of it.) Grebo must have realized that all of a sudden this wasn’t the day to try his luck, and started to take off. The couple of seconds I took separating the last human from his arms gave Grebo enough time to get a decent head start on me, and by the time I could close the gap at all, he was able to duck around a corner and disappear. Into a cave, or the shadows, or who knows where. Somehow he lost me and I wasn’t going to start wasting time chasing shadows.
I tried to hurry back to the monument as fast as I could, even though I knew deep down that time really wasn’t going to be an issue. When I got back, the armless human was laying in his heap, along with two of the others, but one of his friends was gone – maybe I was a little quick to assume I’d one-shot them all? There was blood on the ground where he fell, and more trailing along to a second bloody puddle where Lakkara had fallen. Only…no Lakkara.
I ran around Demon Fall Canyon like a lunatic, looking for bodies, blood, scraps of cloth. Tracks, as if I was a fucking hunter and would know how to follow them in the first place. Anything. All I could find was more of those damned weakling demons, and the ones that had the bad luck to be within arm’s reach found themselves swapped out for a pile of demon parts real quick. But no sign of my mother. No human. Nothing.
I’m back in Orgrimmar now. My head hasn’t stopped spinning. There isn’t one single part of this that makes sense, but I’m going to find out what’s going on, and how this happened. And someone’s going to pay.
[Header image provided by Angelya from Revive and Rejuvenate, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Ode to Gorehowl
Yeah, I know I’m getting this one in a little late, but I had a busy day today. Endless glorious requisition forms with Eitrigg, which again begs the questions, with all my underlings why do I not have one whose job it is to handle the paperwork?
Anyway, here’s today’s entry for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge. Fill up those comments with ideas and themes and little nuggets of goodness to inspire me again, and we’ll have our next EPIC VERSE next Tuesday.
When I cast eyes upon the glinting steel
Of Gorehowl, gravest axe that e’er was made,
My thoughts return to Grommash’s ordeal
When Mannoroth fell to my father’s blade.
The greatest battle that the blade had known,
In Ashenvale where Demons Fall to fate:
Where Grom exchanged for all our lives, his own,
And plunged Gorehowl though thick infernal plate.
I wonder now if it is worthy held:
Since Grommash fell, the axe has many slain,
But greatest since that time Gorehowl has felled,
In place of bane of blood, ’tis sire of Baine.
I marvel it, and we, have come so far;
Yet fear it best had stayed with Malchezaar.
EPIC VERSE!
