Tag Archives: brackenwall village
Four Heads are (Slightly) Better than Two
You know, it’s a funny thing how sometimes, when you think you’ve reached a dead end, life ends up throwing you a bone. (Or maybe a mixed metaphor?) Ever since I looked in on Golmash — that worg that Ogunaro Wolfrunner reported showing some disturbing behavior (major undersell, by the way) — I’d been trying to research a few possible ideas involving shaman and warlock magic, but hadn’t been able to find anything. I felt like I’d run out of ideas.
That changed yesterday afternoon during a meeting between Garrosh, Lantresor, and a few others. Lantresor mentioned that he’d been accompanying Mogor the ogre down to Brackenwall Village every now and again, but Mogor (the ogre) had learned his way around well enough that he was going by himself to see Draz’Zilb.
That’s when it occurred to me that Draz’Zilb is pretty knowledgeable when it comes to shadow magic. Garrosh had brought him in on a project or two a while back, and he always seemed pretty sharp… you know, once you got past the evil. Then again, with my personal history, that’s something you learn to shrug off pretty quickly. Oh well.
I excused myself from the rest of the meeting so I could go look for Mogor. The ogre. Since I knew Garrosh had a security conference with Malkorok afterward, though, I sent for Taktani to cover for me with the notetaking. Granted, I don’t think Garrosh necessarily had anything he needed recorded in that particular meeting, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to leave Malkorok having to endure Tak’s, um, aggressive cheerfulness. And the hugs. No matter how much grouchier they made him. Which would only convince Tak that she needed to try harder to cheer Malkorok up. Now, sure, I wasn’t around to see any of this, but I can imagine it. And I do. Often. Whenever I’m having a bad day. It always puts a smile on my face. You should try it sometime.
I managed to track down Mogor just before he was about to leave for Dustwallow and convinced him to let me tag along. When we got there, Draz’Zilb set Mogor up with some sort of potion he’d been working on that restores a major chunk of Mogor’s intelligence. (I guess Mogor used to be a lot smarter. Don’t ask me what happened to him.) From what I gather, the effects of Draz’Zilb’s potion wear off after a matter of hours, which explains why Mogor’s been making a habit of going down there to see him.
An added benefit for me was that Mogor’s a shaman, and used to be a pretty good one, back before… you know… something happened to his head. Whatever it was. That meant he was able to join us in the conversation I was having with Draz’Zilb and actually contribute something from the shaman side of things. The whole thing had the added bonus of taking place in a remote location far removed from any prying eyes that might ordinarily be trying to peek in on business.
I won’t bore everyone with the details of the conversation. Lots of warlock and shaman shop talk. It ended up sounding pretty familiar, though, or at least reminiscent of some of that business Draz’Zilb was helping Garrosh deal with involving Magatha a couple years ago. Mogor was able to chip in a few odds and ends involving shaman incantations, particular some things he’d seen from some of the old orchish shamans back in the day. The end result of the discussion didn’t really tell me anything definite, but the more we talked, the more Draz’Zilb and Mogor were able to connect some dots from based on their experience, and what they had to say rang just true enough to make me think I may be on the right track.
I think I have a few avenues to take to try to follow up on this, mostly after we get back from Pandaria. The down side is that even if I’m thinking along the right lines, I don’t know how to test what I’m thinking, at least not without killing Golmash. Which I would imagine would defeat at least some of the point of the exercise. More importantly, though, if Golmash dies, I honestly don’t know what will happen. Or what we actually lose, or just how important the loss will be. But it has to be something important, because if I’m right, someone went to a lot of trouble and blurred a whole lot of lines. But I don’t know who, or when, or why. Part of me doesn’t even really want to find out.
Because here’s the gist of it. You remember when I said that the wolf’s growl sounded full, like there was more in there than even his voice could contain? If what I suspect is true, then I was more right then I realized. Only it’s not that there’s something more inside him. It’s that there’s someone.
I think Golmash is a soulstone.
Mokvar
“Contrary to popular belief, I can fix stupid.”
Monday mailbag
Okay, people, seems like Shay’s guest mailbag from last time went over pretty well, so who knows, maybe I’ll do that again every so often. Not even with Shay, necessarily, because i don’t know how keen she would be to do those on a regular basis — as it is, I had to offer her a shopping trip in Silvermoon to get her to do that one, and there’s no fucking WAY I can afford to keep slinging those around on a monthly basis or whatever. But maybe every so often I can rope someone else into doing one, if you people have anyone else you might have questions for.
More importantly for right now, though, you’ve got the main event back, so let’s see what you peeps have on your minds this time around.
In my attempt to offer what seemed to me to be good advice to your beautiful and talented daughter, I believe I have offended her (and possibly you).
This troubles me, and I wish to offer to meet at your convenience to offer my personal apologies. (Lyssa doesn’t want me to go, but I think it the only proper thing to do.)
If there is any other service I may perform for you, please let me know, and until we meet, I remain your faithful follower,
–Sintra E’Drien of the Horde
Evidently, what you people have on your minds is how you can be even more exhausting than usual.
And I mean… you know what? This is just a textbook example. Because, look, Sintra, I know you mean well here, and you think you’re doing the right thing, and you’re trying to be nice, and all kinds of good crap like that, but just… fuck, you people are just so fucking high maintenance. Let’s just… look, apology accepted, okay? We’re all good. Well, I’m good. You want to take it up with Shay, go nuts, but don’t feel like you have to update me every step of the way. And if she looks at you funny or says something that makes you think she maybe had a TONE, just… just roll with it, okay? Don’t feel like you need to file a petition with the local notary public to declare every third Tuesday after a harvest moon factional What Can I Do To Make It Up To You Shayari Day.
For fuck’s sake, dude, it just never fucking ends.
And speaking of things that never end…
Anar’alah! Greetings yet again, most noble Warchief of the Horde!
Many thanks for the response! I was most gratified to receive an opportunity to contact your daughter directly! Although, given her response, (and yours, now I come to think of it) I’m not sure she’s too anxious to go on that “friend-date” you mentioned, anytime soon. I wonder what the problem could be. Although it is wonderful to see that she’s settling in rather well. I have to admit, I hadn’t expected that. Somehow, I always saw Nagrand as one of the most luxurious and leisurely places that could ever be. But I guess that when you’re poor, you see things differently. Orgrimmar may not be the prettiest place in the world, but I’m probably correct in saying that Shay has more now than she once did, with her father being the Warchief and all. So, for now, that’s certainly enough.
As for your own response, I am not related to Tirion or this Grottee Metalbeard fellow. Whatever made you suggest such a thing!? Perhaps I should remind you that I am an elf and Tirion is a human. And no, I am not HALF an elf. I’ve looked it all up, and I can’t possibly have fel-tainted eyes with two pupils, one green and one slightly lighter green, long ears and eyebrows, a slim and elf-like figure and the ability to produce arcane magic without being taught if I was half-elf. So, I am not related to Highlord Fordring in any way. I think. As for Grottee Metalbeard, I don’t know who that is! It sounds very gnomish. Or goblin? One or the other, anyway. Nobody else could possibly have “Metalbeard” as a last name without being a gnome or a goblin. And, seriously, I may be slightly shorter than the average height of a Blood Elf, but if you’re suggesting that I’m related to one of THOSE things…oh, no! Oh, and if Grottee’s reading this, don’t take it the wrong way. I just don’t like gnomes or goblins. And if you’re one of those delivery guy goblins, no, I’m NOT fucking tipping you! And while we’re also on the topic, “hooked up and gave birth to this letter”? That sentence, I must say, really put a horrifying image into my head. I mean, even worse than the Thalassian Brandy strutting through Hearthglen provocatively image. Because at least she’s GOOD LOOKING, you know!? And wow, is she good looking. I mean, sometimes I still ask myself if it was a dream. It probably was. Ha, good luck hoping, Sarlin. But Tirion Fordring and a GNOME? Or a goblin or WHATEVER. I would respectfully request that, in future, you refrain from planting such a horrific image in my head again. I still haven’t a clue as to how you got the idea that we were related.
Now. I feel good that that’s off my chest.
Yes, Twitter’s character limit has been a burden for quite some time now. It’s hard to elaborate and emphasize the more important things, such as the war efforts, gnoll necromancers, magi with weird hats, stupid mages who think it’s okay to polymorph random strangers whenever they want (that was no reference to Shayari, by the way!) and Light only knows what else with that limit in the way. I thought there would be a way to break it. Click the button with -284 characters and hope it would send. Impossible. It seems we live in a world where the only way forward is brevity. How unfortunate, would you not agree?
Shayari also told me that she occasionally ports back and forth to the Undercity for mage training. Which, I mean, I’m not concerned about THAT or anything, but do you really think it’s a good idea to get her so close to the Banshee Queen? I mean, I don’t know if I’d made it at all obvious but I don’t trust that woman! I mean, hey, at least I didn’t just say “No, I don’t LIKE her, therefore nobody else will!” Besides, who actually DOES like Sylvanas? I just wonder if she’d be, you know, in a stable enviroment if she was practicing how to conjure a mana cake table and Sylvanas decided to walk in and freak out because look, it’s a Draenei. I mean, she’s already made it pretty obvious taht she doesn’t like YOU. Sylvanas, I mean. Just something for you to ponder on. Oh, and if you’re wondering, no, I haven’t had any real personal meetings with Sylvanas. There was one when I was pretty young, before I joined the Argent Dawn, but that was myself and a few other young soldiers. She just yelled at us for not killing enough humans. I got off lightly, I hadn’t killed one. Nonetheless, I worry. We had enough mayhem with the Lich King. And if my sources tell me correctly, you see little difference between her and the Lich King. I trust you to make the right decision with regards to the subject.
Oh, and before I finish up, I just have to point out that I noticed a certain Pandaren named Ben-Lin Cloudstrider is hosting anger management classes! I didn’t know that you were thinking about adopting! To be honest, I couldn’t even imagine you wanting to have children! Although I’m likely right in assuming that when Shayari finally came into your life, you realized just how much you were missing. Being a father must be the most wonderful feeling in all worlds, wouldn’t you agree? It’s a shame that you lost seventeen years of poor Shay’s life, but you can make up for that now. Are you planning on adopting a baby? Wouldn’t it be just fine, to raise a child from before they’re even a year old! Quite frankly, my girlfriend and I have had thoughts of adopting, ourselves. We just want to travel a little bit more before we do so. And we’re still trying to work out which, uh, race to adopt. I was thinking maybe a High Elf, since they’re respected by the Kal’dorei (my girlfriend’s a Night Elf) and I’m quite fond of little High Elves, too. But that’s aside the point. Are you adopting a little orc or a little troll? Maybe even a little Blood Elf? Ha, I jest. They’re truly insufferable as children.
Back to the anger management class. Is Ben-Lin still doing those? Not that I have a HUGE anger problem, only sometimes I can be irrationally irate when the sounds of birds and flapping wings and even trickling water or the wind rustling grass or twigs, just the happy old noises, decide to all sound on what is known as “the morning after the night before”. Which often includes a LOT of alcohol. Mostly mead, although I do have a Gilnean friend who supplies me with brandy occasionally. It’s rather a strong beverage, I must say. Still, it’s fine for any occasion where you just want to get pissed out of your brains. But anyway! Yes, the only downside to consuming so much alcohol is the “morning after the night before” effect which is a bi-daily event where every aspect of nature comes together and floats around my sore head shrieking with voices like nails across a shield. I mean, I don’t mind birds, but when they annoy me like that, they just HAVE to fucking die, you know what I mean? And that’s the benefit of having a bow. You don’t have to throw your sword and hope it doesn’t miss. I have to say, it’s a pretty great release of anger. You know that rage that simply cannot be repressed? Birds always seem to know when I experience it, because they glide well into firing range when I do. Keep hush on this, but once, I was aiming for an annoying bird and shot it in the wing, only to find it was actually a troll in bird form. There’s a little Cenarian Circle camp nearby, so I guessed he was from that. Don’t worry, he made it, and I don’t think he saw me either! So anyway, I’ve had to clean up bird corpses a lot recently, only I haven’t been great at cleaning up the evidence, so there’s a small pile of dead birds behind Mardenholde Keep. With some incinerated kittens, also. And even some penguins that appear to have their skulls bashed in. I guess this is soon going to be the place where people drag the corpses of dead animals that end up falling to the blade of hangovers. And look, don’t worry about sponsors. I can always get my girlfriend to sponsor me. Or Daria L’Rayne, if she’s willing. Oh, and if you’re a little concerned about Daria, regarding my letter to Shayari, don’t worry. She doesn’t have anger issues, she just gets a bit irratable, but only during the days she’s on duty. I guess being advisor is pretty stressful. Anyhow, if I was to drag her along, rest assured, she’d be totally sober. Maybe. I mean, is alcohol allowed at these places? If so, well, I could always bring along some ale or something.
And hey, even if I can’t take part in the session, can you PLEASE just all have another one anyway!? Like, seriously! Do you have any fucking idea how FUNNY that was!? I mean, look, I always knew that Tirion drank quite a bit but I never actually could make sense of those corpses until I read that! Although I was a little disheartened when I went to tell everybody and they all already knew. I was like “Where the fuck was I for the last however long this has been going on for”? And oh my LIGHT, what is Mylune’s problem! I thought she loved animals! I mean, I haven’t met her many times but she does seem quite…uh, cuddly? I mean, I like hugs but gee, I think I like breathing more. Oh, heh, and I mentioned Lor’Themar to Shay, too. Tell me, was his hair perfect that day, too? Huh. He always did seem pretty calm to me. Just prissy as fuck, you know?
And also, if I might recommend it, maybe host the next one in that big gladiator’s or trial’s ring you got going on in Orgrimmar? You know, just so anybody who wants to come by for the giggles can do so. Look, I’ll stop with this suggesting nonsense and outright say that I WILL PAY YOU to do another. Even though you’re probably rich out now what with being Warchief and all. Still. I mean, if it helps, I’ll send over 10,000 gold and it might even feed a village of hungry peons, or maybe be enough to invent an elixir that will give them a brain.
I seem to have covered everything I’ve been wishing to bring up with you. I do hope that you don’t find any of this to be too demanding. I expect you have other issues to deal with besides the worries of a young Paladin, such as very incriminating photoes of dancing trolls or something. As opposed to “not so incriminating photoes”. Or “just slightly incriminating photoes”. The fel was up with THAT guy?
Oh, I did have a question! But fear not, I will be brief. What the fuck is up with Bob? Who even IS that guy? And what is his fucking PROBLEM!? Gee, I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s a troll and all (in EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD EVER) but whoa! I mean, c’mon. It’s not the just the harsh, real fact that he’s an asshole, but the more harrowing fact that he lacks a brain. The fuck. I mean, everybody KNOWS that the Lich King’s horse is “Invincible”. Invincible and INVISIBLE are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS! ARE YOU READING THIS, BOB!? YOU MIGHT LEARN A THING OR TWO! GRR, YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SO ANGRY.
Anyhow, I digress. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must replace this inkwell with a slightly larger one, since it only holds maybe just over half of the ink that I require to send out not just mailbag letters to the Horde’s Warchief, but also to stay in close contact with other friends and possibly relatives around Azeroth and Outland! It’s just rather a pain to refill it constantly.
Light’s blessing to you, noble Warchief of the Horde.
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker
I mean.
I literally don’t know how she does it. All I know is that by the time this last letter from Sarlin reached me, it had a petition attached to it, signed by nine ink vendors from all around Azeroth, asking me to declare a state of emergency due to the looming ink shortage.
But… okay… hello again, Sarlin. I see you still… have a lot on your mind. Again. So, um…
Okay, you know what? Let me just try to cover as much of this as I can, so she’ll at least have less ammunition for the NEXT time. Here goes.
Many thanks for the response! I was most gratified to receive an opportunity to contact your daughter directly! Although, given her response, (and yours, now I come to think of it) I’m not sure she’s too anxious to go on that “friend-date” you mentioned, anytime soon. I wonder what the problem could be.
Well, don’t let me speak for Shay, but it might have something to do with her irrational fear of having all the oxygen around her soaked up by a gaping vacuum of words words words, then suffocating helplessly, unable to cry out for help, because there are no words fucking left.
Orgrimmar may not be the prettiest place in the world, but I’m probably correct in saying that Shay has more now than she once did, with her father being the Warchief and all. So, for now, that’s certainly enough.
Apparently she had to leave most of her stuff behind when she left Dalaran. So…she actually doesn’t have more than she ever did, I don’t think, but…she’s working on it. I mean working HARD. Like really, REALLY hard. Let me put this in context for you: one of the perks of being Warchief is an unlimited credit account. Last week I got a notice from the goblin credit bureau that I was approaching my limit. Apparently, to teenage girls, infinity isn’t an abstraction — it’s a challenge.
As for your own response, I am not related to Tirion or this Grottee Metalbeard fellow. Whatever made you suggest such a thing!?
What indeed, Garrosh thought, realizing he wasn’t even 10% of the way into this letter yet.
Perhaps I should remind you that I am an elf and Tirion is a human. And no, I am not HALF an elf. I’ve looked it all up, and I can’t possibly have fel-tainted eyes with two pupils, one green and one slightly lighter green, long ears and eyebrows, a slim and elf-like figure and the ability to produce arcane magic without being taught if I was half-elf. So, I am not related to Highlord Fordring in any way. I think.
Oh no, you are related to him. Maybe not by blood, but you’re related.
You may not be kin, but you’re sure as hell kindred.
As for Grottee Metalbeard, I don’t know who that is! It sounds very gnomish. Or goblin? One or the other, anyway. Nobody else could possibly have “Metalbeard” as a last name without being a gnome or a goblin. And, seriously, I may be slightly shorter than the average height of a Blood Elf, but if you’re suggesting that I’m related to one of THOSE things…oh, no!
You’re a very literal person, Sarlin, anyone ever tell you that?
Also, just FYI, I’d lay even odds that Spazzle is tracking back your IP address as we speak. So if you’ve never loaded had your inbox flooded from porn mailing lists focusing on the lurid antics of THOSE THINGS… well, you’re probably about to.
Oh, and if Grottee’s reading this, don’t take it the wrong way. I just don’t like gnomes or goblins.
I don’t see how he could possibly take that the wrong way.
And while we’re also on the topic, “hooked up and gave birth to this letter”? That sentence, I must say, really put a horrifying image into my head. I mean, even worse than the Thalassian Brandy strutting through Hearthglen provocatively image. Because at least she’s GOOD LOOKING, you know!? And wow, is she good looking. I mean, sometimes I still ask myself if it was a dream. It probably was. Ha, good luck hoping, Sarlin. But Tirion Fordring and a GNOME? Or a goblin or WHATEVER. I would respectfully request that, in future, you refrain from planting such a horrific image in my head again.
You know what? You really started to save it. You looked like you were going to pull it back for a minute there, but then, nope, veered right on back to Tirion.
And for those of you wondering what she’s talking about with the whole Thalassian Brandy thing — OTHER THAN THE OBVIOUS — here, I refer you to a related question that Sarlin asked me on Ask.fm a good long while back. (I may dig up a few of my more memorable questions from that site to toss up here one of these days, too…)
Yes, Twitter’s character limit has been a burden for quite some time now. It’s hard to elaborate and emphasize the more important things, such as the war efforts,
The war effort goes well so far, despite occasional tactical setbacks. The Alliance has bought itself time, but their end is inevitable. FYV (140 characters)
gnoll necromancers,
Whoa, when the hell did gnolls learn how to be necromancers? Couldn’t Kel’Thuzard have left well enough alone? (110 characters)
magi with weird hats,
Yo, Mok, check out the stupid hat on that mage. Wait, what? Whose mother-in-law? Damn, sorry, dude. (99 characters)
stupid mages who think it’s okay to polymorph random strangers whenever they want (that was no reference to Shayari, by the way!)
I’m sure it wasn’t a reference to Faranell either, right? Methinks she dost protest too much. (93 characters)
and Light only knows what else with that limit in the way. I thought there would be a way to break it. Click the button with -284 characters and hope it would send. Impossible. It seems we live in a world where the only way forward is brevity. How unfortunate, would you not agree?
Yeah, I think you’re hitting pay dirt there, Sarls. Don’t know how we’re gonna get by. (86 characters)
Shayari also told me that she occasionally ports back and forth to the Undercity for mage training. Which, I mean, I’m not concerned about THAT or anything, but do you really think it’s a good idea to get her so close to the Banshee Queen? I mean, I don’t know if I’d made it at all obvious but I don’t trust that woman!
I don’t trust Sylvanas so much as I trust Shay’s right hook. I’d refer you to Faranell if you have any reservations about that one.
I mean, hey, at least I didn’t just say “No, I don’t LIKE her, therefore nobody else will!” Besides, who actually DOES like Sylvanas?
To be fair, I’m not necessarily the guy who should be coming down on someone for a poor showing in popularity contests.
Oh, and if you’re wondering, no, I haven’t had any real personal meetings with Sylvanas. There was one when I was pretty young, before I joined the Argent Dawn, but that was myself and a few other young soldiers. She just yelled at us for not killing enough humans.
See, right there. You just made me like Sylvanas. THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS TOO MANY DEAD HUMANS. Way to undercut your own point like two sentences later, Sarls. At this rate, you still have time to undercut at least six or seven thousand more assertions before this letter is over.
Oh, and before I finish up, I just have to point out that I noticed a certain Pandaren named Ben-Lin Cloudstrider is hosting anger management classes!
Well, Ben-Lin mostly counsels people one-on-one these days. She tried to hold a group session, but the class…didn’t go so great. At least according to most people, Ben included. Faranell, for some reason, still goes on about how awesome it was, but who knows what that guy’s thinking most days. Anyway, I can’t say for sure that Ben’s stopped the classes altogether, but I only ever went to that one.
I didn’t know that you were thinking about adopting! To be honest, I couldn’t even imagine you wanting to have children! Although I’m likely right in assuming that when Shayari finally came into your life, you realized just how much you were missing.
Um, no, I think you’re getting the order of events mixed up. I would have cut you a little slack there if you’d been one of the people caught up in all the damn time travel crap a little while back, both rounds of it — and holy crap do I never want to get mixed up with THAT kind of shit again — but as far as I know, you were just hanging out in Hearthglen all safe and secure.
But, okay, so the adoption thing was this idea I got into my head to maybe adopt Gurtash. He’d been hanging around Grommash Hold pretty regularly by then, and I was starting to work with him as a trainee, and I figured he was an orphan and all, what with his father having been killed in the line of duty up in Northrend, so I figured it might be good for me to just take him in outright. That was before Orphan Matron Battlewail decided to get all antsy and insisted I do the anger management class, and…well, that just got us into a big mess of red tape.
Anyway, that all got put on the backburner with everything going on in Pandaria, and then Shay turning up, and then the whole Mokvar thing and…you know, I don’t even want to get into it. Let’s just keep moving.
Being a father must be the most wonderful feeling in all worlds, wouldn’t you agree? It’s a shame that you lost seventeen years of poor Shay’s life, but you can make up for that now. Are you planning on adopting a baby?
I… no, no, I was never looking at adopting a baby. No babies. I had one specific kid in mind. How the hell did you read up on the adoption thing and miss the part where I specified who I was going to be adopting?
Are you adopting a little orc or a little troll? Maybe even a little Blood Elf? Ha, I jest. They’re truly insufferable as children.
I have bad news for you if you think that that’s specific to blood elf children.
Back to the anger management class. Is Ben-Lin still doing those?
Asked and answered, your honor.
Not that I have a HUGE anger problem, only sometimes I can be irrationally irate when the sounds of birds and flapping wings and even trickling water or the wind rustling grass or twigs, just the happy old noises, decide to all sound on what is known as “the morning after the night before”. Which often includes a LOT of alcohol.
I’m not completely sure what the fuck you’re talking about, but i’m beginning to get a vague sense that you and Tirion mesh well up there in Hearthglen in a variety of ways.
Mostly mead, although I do have a Gilnean friend who supplies me with brandy occasionally.
Thalassian, by any chance?
But anyway! Yes, the only downside to consuming so much alcohol is the “morning after the night before” effect which is a bi-daily event where every aspect of nature comes together and floats around my sore head shrieking with voices like nails across a shield. I mean, I don’t mind birds, but when they annoy me like that, they just HAVE to fucking die, you know what I mean? And that’s the benefit of having a bow. You don’t have to throw your sword and hope it doesn’t miss. I have to say, it’s a pretty great release of anger. You know that rage that simply cannot be repressed? Birds always seem to know when I experience it, because they glide well into firing range when I do.
I’m just going to tuck this little snippet away for the next time someone gets pissy with me about being grouchy and hostile with people.
And then I’m going to back away very, very carefully.
Keep hush on this, but once, I was aiming for an annoying bird and shot it in the wing, only to find it was actually a troll in bird form.
Heh. Hehehe. HeheheHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA hahaha…ha… heh…
BWAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! Heehee…
Okay… okay… moving on…
So anyway, I’ve had to clean up bird corpses a lot recently, only I haven’t been great at cleaning up the evidence, so there’s a small pile of dead birds behind Mardenholde Keep. With some incinerated kittens, also. And even some penguins that appear to have their skulls bashed in. I guess this is soon going to be the place where people drag the corpses of dead animals that end up falling to the blade of hangovers.
Is it bad that my first thought on reading that was that if, say, an anonymous note were to find its way to Mylune, directing her to go check out what’s behind Mardenholde Keep… oh man, the spectacle that might be to behold!
And hey, even if I can’t take part in the session, can you PLEASE just all have another one anyway!? Like, seriously! Do you have any fucking idea how FUNNY that was!? I mean, look, I always knew that Tirion drank quite a bit but I never actually could make sense of those corpses until I read that! Although I was a little disheartened when I went to tell everybody and they all already knew. I was like “Where the fuck was I for the last however long this has been going on for”? And oh my LIGHT, what is Mylune’s problem! I thought she loved animals! I mean, I haven’t met her many times but she does seem quite…uh, cuddly? I mean, I like hugs but gee, I think I like breathing more. Oh, heh, and I mentioned Lor’Themar to Shay, too. Tell me, was his hair perfect that day, too? Huh. He always did seem pretty calm to me. Just prissy as fuck, you know?
This has been an installment in the Last Year in Garrosh’s Life series. But, hey, as long as Sarlin is endorsing that little exercise in unanesthetized dental surgery, here, go back and relive all the fun.
And also, if I might recommend it, maybe host the next one in that big gladiator’s or trial’s ring you got going on in Orgrimmar? You know, just so anybody who wants to come by for the giggles can do so.
Yeah, I think someone already had that idea.
Look, I’ll stop with this suggesting nonsense and outright say that I WILL PAY YOU to do another. Even though you’re probably rich out now what with being Warchief and all. Still. I mean, if it helps, I’ll send over 10,000 gold and it might even feed a village of hungry peons, or maybe be enough to invent an elixir that will give them a brain.
<looks over bill from Shayari’s latest shopping trip>
I’m listening.
I swear, though, the way you’re going on about this is making me want to make this a Patreon perk for clearing some non-trivial threshold.
I seem to have covered everything I’ve been wishing to bring up with you.
OH THANK THE SPIRITS I THINK WE’RE COMING UP ON THE HOME FUCKING STRETCH
I do hope that you don’t find any of this to be too demanding.
I’ll let you know once I regain feeling in my left leg after stabbing it repeatedly to keep from losing consciousness every 37 words.
I expect you have other issues to deal with besides the worries of a young Paladin, such as very incriminating photoes of dancing trolls or something. As opposed to “not so incriminating photoes”. Or “just slightly incriminating photoes”. The fel was up with THAT guy?
It’s funny you should ask. “That guy” just had another message delivered by courier:
It has come to my attention that both yourself and your daughter have been subjected to interminable, inane babbling in letter form from a young blood elf paladin in the service of Tirion Fording. Having reviewed her messages, I wish to know: what on Azeroth is UP with this chick?
–A Humble Peon
I wish I fucking knew, AHP. I wish I fucking well knew.
Oh, I did have a question!
I swear, it’s like the letter equivalent of one of those Earth Online machinimas, where you keep thinking the serial killer is finally dead, and HE KEEPS GETTING BACK UP AND COMING AFTER YOU SOME MORE.
But fear not, I will be brief.
Lady, the train left that station somewhere in the middle of volume three.
What the fuck is up with Bob? Who even IS that guy? And what is his fucking PROBLEM!? Gee, I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s a troll and all (in EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD EVER) but whoa! I mean, c’mon. It’s not the just the harsh, real fact that he’s an asshole, but the more harrowing fact that he lacks a brain. The fuck. I mean, everybody KNOWS that the Lich King’s horse is “Invincible”. Invincible and INVISIBLE are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS! ARE YOU READING THIS, BOB!? YOU MIGHT LEARN A THING OR TWO! GRR, YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SO ANGRY.
You know, I can’t believe she’s actually making me contemplate the phrase “worth the wait,” but if this is how she’s finishing up, I hate to say it, but it really might be. BECAUSE FUCK YOU, BOB. Troll? Check. Asshole? Check? GODDAMN FUCKING IDIOT? Hell yes and triple check. PREACH, SISTER, PREACH.
Anyhow, I digress. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must replace this inkwell with a slightly larger one, since it only holds maybe just over half of the ink that I require to send out not just mailbag letters to the Horde’s Warchief, but also to stay in close contact with other friends and possibly relatives around Azeroth and Outland! It’s just rather a pain to refill it constantly.
And look at that, two more signatures for that petition from the ink vendors.
Meanwhile, I just had another message come in by courier. Apparently the night elves are declaring war on Sarlin for the sheer number of forests she’s singlehandedly leveled in order to supply herself with enough paper for these letters. And I quote: “We feel we may have misjudged your Warsong clan in focusing the brunt of our ire on their logging activities; clearly we were overlooking the true, direr threat.”
Still, feel free to scrape a few more pages out of Ashenvale, if you ask me. Just make sure you scrape some of the glitter off those trees before you start pulping. Thalassian Brandi could probably use it.
Fucking hell, though. Okay, let’s see what else we’ve got.
Sir, if somehow somewhere the f-word was banned and a spell kept anyone and everyone (including you) from saying it, what would you do? Would you be able to carry on a conversation or get mad without ever saying it or would this cause a cataclysmic event of Garrosh proportions?
–Ruekie
PS: This goes for shit too. I mean the S- word!
Well, Rook, in the unlikely event that something like that ever happened, I suppose I would have to do the adult, responsible thing. Which means, of course, that I would hunt down the fucking fucknose motherfucker who cast that fucking spell, grab them by their fucking neck, then beat some goddamn fucking sense into their stupid fuckwit ass until they turned that motherfucking spell the fuck OFF. That’s what the fuck I’d do, dammit.
And shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits, while we’re at it.
Censorship fucking sucks, kids. Fight the power.
Mogor glad you got people working on it. Elements still not happy, so Mogor hope they work fast. Still, Mogor happy to find other fun things. Lantresor not writing in this time. Lantresor say he has a “secret mission” to take care of. Mogor not get it, but Lantresor smart orc. He not in trouble.
Mogor write in to give you battle report. Mogor and some ogres of Burning Skull went south to swamp, hung out with Stonemaul ogres. Mogor met Draz’Zilb. Draz’Zilb so smart. He working on potion, will make Mogor smarter, stop heads arguing and big words confusing Mogor. Anyway, we hang out in swamp until funny pinkskins arrive, attack village. Mogor think Mogor saw green shirt with yellow anvil on pinkskins, but memory fuzzy. Draz’Zilb say they sent by the Allianz. More come, too many to fight all at once, but Mogor set trap in trees near village. Mogor and ogres climbed big tree and hung in branches; when pinkskins approached Mogor and ogres, we let go of branches, fall down on them. We got the drop on them, ha!
Draz’Zilb say he continue to work on potion and Mogor should write to tell you about attack. Draz’Zilb expect pinkskins come back with even more next time. Mogor disappointed; the Allianz tougher in Mogor’s younger days. Now they all numbers, no brains. Not like orcs. Not like ogres.
That all for now. Mogor see you next time.
–Mogor the Ogre
Oh, hey, Mogor. The Ogre.
Um.
…
Yeah, sorry, I needed to take a second to wonder what happened to my life that these are the conversations I end up having. Anyway.
So… yeah, it’s good that you got over your little elemental hissy fit. You keep on listening to Lantresor, Mogor. The…ogre. Or…or, yeah, better yet, keep hanging out down in Brackenwall Village. You’ll probably feel right at home there, what with all the other mogor–ogres. OGRES.
…
<sigh>
I swear there was a point in my life when it wasn’t a giant fucking cartoon.
Anyway, continuing on.
That’s good that you’re spending some time with Draz’Zilb down there. I haven’t talked to him in a while, but he was always pretty sharp, so he’s probably going to be able to help you with the– wait.
Hang on.
You mean to tell me… Draz’Zilb’s got a potion he can cook up…that makes a pair of bickering heads stop yammering, and shut up and get along, and stop being fucking stupid and confused all the time? DUDE ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT MOFO’S BEEN SITTING ON A FUCKING DONTRAG AND UTVOCH ANTIDOTE ALL THIS TIME AND HE HASN’T FUCKING TOLD ME???!! ARE YOU SHITTING ME??!!!
OKAY, so HERE’S what you’re gonna do, Mogor the ogre — you’re going to fucking FOLLOW Draz’Zilb’s ass around and stay after him until he whips up a GIANT SIZED dose of that potion of his, and then you’re going to get the BIGGEST FUCKING BARREL YOU CAN FIND, and LOAD IT UP WITH AS MUCH OF THAT POTION AS IT’LL HOLD, AND THEN YOU’RE GOING TO HIGH-TAIL IT BACK TO ORGRIMMAR WITH THAT SHIT. THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING DO, MOGOR.
…
THE OGRE.
<sigh>
More soon. When I can stomach it.
[As always, keep those letters coming! Next mailbag November 2! E-mail the Warchief using the link at the top of the right sidebar, or use the handy form below:]
The fall of Theramore
Victory from the jaws of defeat.
Or, no, that’s not quite accurate. Defeat was never really in the picture. This was more victory from under the guide of defeat.
That much sweeter, in a way. Let the humans think they’d won, right up to the moment that their doom became inescapable. The moment they realized it was upon them, and had nothing left to do but stand there helplessly and watch it come.
Today was a good day.
After we left Northwatch Hold, we marched south and made short work of Fort Triumph. I couldn’t help chuckling at the irony of the name while we annihilated what passed for its defenses. I think our soldiers were so eager for battle after the long wait at Northwatch that they threw themselves with ever great ferocity into the fight once it finally came.
The long wait at Northwatch. To them – what? – six days?
They’ll never know how long their Warchief had been waiting for this moment.
We continued on our way into Dustwallow Marsh and divided our forces at the fork in the road. Half of our troops traveled north with me, while half went east with Malkorok. We would meet at Theramore and strike both its gates at the same time. As my half of the army made its way north, we added reinforcements from Brackenwall Village – Krog and Draz’Zilb among them – then continued on our way toward Theramore.
My contingent was the first to reach the city. Jaina had recruited aid from the Kirin Tor to help strengthen the city’s defenses against our battering rams and siege engines. It was a wise decision on her part. Pity I’d been counting on it. Me and…what’s his name, the blood elf guy. I can never remember. I should probably work on that, seeing as he really stepped up to the plate with more than one part of this plan.
See, Jaina had called in mages from the Kirin Tor to help hold the Theramore gates against our attack. A powerful mage could reinforce a gate for a good long time against our siege. As it happened, though, one of those crucial, city-saving mages was a guy by the name of Thalen Songweaver.
A blood elf.
See if you can guess who writes his checks.
Down came the gates, and in came the Horde.
Malkorok’s forces joined ours in the midst of it all, and Captain Drok and the rest of the Horde fleet hit the harbor. Our troops flooded into Theramore, laying waste to its defenders. Jaina and her wizard friends did a decent job of chipping away at our numbers from above, but on the ground, none of the Theramore soldiers could hold their own against our assault.
Everything was going perfectly until Jaina’s new blue dragon friend turned up and started dropping boulders and trees over the broken gate. Kalecgos… I remember meeting him, once, just after Deathwing’s defeat. Apparently mortality’s left him pretty damn bored these days, because now he had nothing better to do than meddle in battles that were none of his concern. Problem was – as Baine and Vol’jin were only too quick to point out – at the rate the big lizard was going, he would shore up the opening right quick, and seal us all inside. At that point, closed in without any further reinforcements from outside, it would just be a matter of time before the mages picked us off.
So, I ordered our forces to fall back. We cleared out of the city and retreated to the north and west. We all regrouped just west of the bridge over Dustwallow Bay, overlooking Theramore. Baine was less than thrilled about how things had gone. Can’t really blame him, though, considering he wasn’t seeing the big picture. The foolish tauren thought the siege was all there was to this attack. For all he could see, this was a loss.
But see, here’s the thing. When you fight me, there’s never just one piece to the plan I throw at you. Sure, it would have been nice if the siege had gone perfectly. But that’s the beauty of it all. It didn’t have to.
Welcome to fighting Garrosh Hellscream, Theramore. Evern when I lose, I win.
Sure, you fought off the attack on your gates… And kept yourselves busy while Drok slipped into the harbor and dropped off a small, elite strike team, who crippled your aerial defenses and recovered our agent Thalen Songweaver.
And sure, you managed to secure that north gate again… And sealed yourselves in, within the city walls. With some of the Alliance’s greatest generals, who’d come to aid in the defense. Closed in together. Nice and compact. All in one place.
Boy, it sure would suck for you if I had, say, a giant bomb I could drop on you right now.
Oh, wait. I do.
Goblin sky galleon. Blood elf mana bomb. And the immeasurable power of a handy little relic called the Focusing Iris.
Goodbye, Theramore.
The troops cheered around me as I pointed to our victory and the sky glowed white and purple with the aftershocks of the mana explosion. Louder and louder, raucous voices all around me. Some stared in shock, confusion, maybe even…misguided disapproval. No matter. Give them time. They’ll come around. Eventually, victory wins everyone over. And we won.
I turned and looked over the bay, holding Gorehowl over my head, taking in the sight of our triumph, of the mark we had left on this world, never to be forgotten.
Deep down, in some tiny, hollow corner, I knew it still wasn’t quite enough.
But it would do. For a start.
Not quite Monday, not quite mailbag
(Or, for the math nerds out there, NotQuite(Monday + Mailbag). I don’t really understand what that means. Spazzle said it would go over like gangbusters, though.)
The Grimtotem warrior that Nazgrim was holding in Brackenwall Village was delivered to Orgrimmar. As it turns out, she was a messenger. She had wanted to be brought to Orgrimmar in order to deliver a letter – to me personally.
On a side note, just before she arrived here, some of our soldiers captured a SECOND Grimtotem sneaking around the Dranosh’ar Blockade. This one’s being pretty tight-lipped about what he was doing there, so I’m guessing that one wasn’t another messenger. So I’m not sure what to make of that.
For now, though, it’s that first one that’s the bigger deal, because the message she was delivering…well, here, see for yourself.
Dearest Warchief Hellscream,
I hope this letter finds you well. Actually, let us not put up false pretenses; I don’t at all hope it finds you well, and further, I know that it will not.
Word has reached me of the terrible tragedy you have recently suffered, concerning the loss of your dear mother Lakkara. I believe I have some information concerning her loss that will be of interest to you. Indeed, you may even take some solace in this knowledge – you see, my good Garrosh, you have not truly lost her at all. That would require you to have ever truly had her back.
Allow me to share with you a most curious tale.
After my recent, shall we say, difficulties with many of my Grimtotem kin, I decided to retire temporarily through the Dark Portal to Outland – a remarkable spectacle at first sight, I must say. I do so love what your fellow orcs have done with the place. My handful of followers and I found the region of Nagrand by far the most hospitable – I will thank you for forgoing any obvious remarks concerning the ready availability of grass – and so we took up temporary residence in its outlying territories, near to your Mag’har kin’s Ancestral Grounds.
It was there that a most interesting thing took place. While foraging in the nearby hills, my associates happened upon a small, secluded cave in the mountainside. Inside, they found the body of an orcish woman who appeared to have died some years prior. Ever a student of spiritual custom, I found myself curious as to how the woman had come to be there, and why the Mag’har, usually so diligent in matters of honoring their dead, would have left her remains to go unburied in some remote cave. And so, I and my colleagues undertook some cautious investigations.
I will not trouble you with the details of our methods; suffice to say, in short order, we found to our amazement that we had discovered the remains of Lakkara, mate of the great Grommash Hellscream, last victim of the pernicious red pox that once ravaged the orcs.
Ordinarily, I would be loathe to disturb the fallen ancestors of any people. But, as I am sure you will understand, I am equally loathe to pass up a glowing opportunity.
You may recall, several weeks ago, investigating a Twilight’s Hammer cabal in Hyjal, resulting in some rather troubling visions courtesy of a conveniently placed shadebind totem. In a stroke of good fortune for me, and short-sightedness for you (both of which, I must say, I was rather counting on), you neglected in your rattled state to collect the offending totem. This made it possible for one of my associates to do so shortly thereafter – the totem, by this point, having attuned itself to you, my good Warchief, for purposes of binding to itself a few select spirits intimately linked to your soul. One crucial one in particular.
From there, it was a simple matter to summon forth Lakkara’s spirit and prepare her for her “return.” With the spiritbinding of her dear son to draw upon, and her actual body on hand, the other necessary manipulations were laborious but hardly difficult. A few selective blurrings of memories…the instilling of a few small additional ones…minor tinkering around the edges of the shadow of her mind: all trivial undertakings, really, once the real work of invocation was done. All the more trivial given how readily she took to them – only too happy to imagine that she had watched her son’s growth in life rather than from the beyond.
The entire process she would perceive – with some subtle nudging – as our careful ministration of her illness. (Not entirely an untruth, I might add.) And the fact of her past contagion would ensure that she would not allow anyone close enough to touch her, and thus discover her noncorporeal state.
And so, with that, it was simply a matter of placing a few totems to summon her into sustained phantasmal being and set her on her way to Garadar. Greatmother Geyah was, of course, the real test, but I hardly had any doubts that my Lakkara would pass inspection – my Lakkara was, after all, the real Lakkara. Or what remained of her spirit, more or less.
It was only a matter of time before she would seek out her dear boy.
Of course, your time together would, as you already know, be short-lived. The elder crone giveth, and the elder crone taketh away. In this case, the instrument of her removal would likewise come via shadebind – in this case, your former underling Gerbo, who, you may be surprised to learn, was from time to time of assistance to me in his days in Stonetalon. For a price, of course, but he was, quite frankly, something of a bargain as such matters go. At any rate, given our previous…association, and his own lingering distaste for his former Warchief, he was only too amenable to lending his aid one last time in death.
It takes a ghost to slay a ghost, after all.
You might well ask, at this point, why I would take the trouble to construct so elaborate a charade. Why would I invest such time and effort to conjure up the illusion of Lakkara, only to dispel it once again, all for no apparent, tangible gain.
You might well ask, but I suspect you need not. For illusory though she may have been, to you, dear Garrosh, she was real. And there is no agony quite so sharp as that of rescinded hope, is there, Warchief?
I will admit, my earlier efforts against you in the Bastion of Twilight were misguided. Then, I had sought to take my revenge by killing you. A foolish, short-sighted goal, I realize now. A terrible mistake whose failure, though grating at the time, has proven to be a blessing in disguise.
You see, I no longer have any desire to kill you. I’ve hurt you. And I intend to go on hurting you.
Enjoy your empty nest, dear Warchief. You will hear from me again.
–Magatha Grimtotem
…
Excuse me. I…think I need to step away from the computer for a minute.
…
…
…
Okay.
So.
I know a lot of you have been reading this blog for a while, and you probably already have an idea what to expect at this point. So you’re probably going to be a little surprised here.
See, ordinarily this would be the point where I start yelling, and going into all caps, and screaming bloody murder, and ranting on and on about how brutally I’m going to murder Magatha, and on and on, and filling up a couple paragraphs with how Magatha’s going to die, she’s going to die, oh holy crap she is so. Totally. Going. To die.
I’m not going to do that now.
See how calm I’m staying? Keeping it together, no yelling, not raising my voice even a little.
Want to know why?
You know that level of anger where it’s not burning up inside you, not even because it’s burned itself out – because that would imply it’s run its course and is done with – but because it’s gone so far beyond that burning, fiery, jump-up-and-down, stomp-your-feet kind of angry? That anger where the screaming and venting is just wasted energy, and you’re not going to waste any of that energy that you could save up to erase whoever or whatever it was that pushed you that far? You know that kind of angry?
I am so utterly beyond that right now.
So all I’m going to say is this.
You don’t have to worry about my rage, Magatha. I usually make a pretty big show of using up my rage. But rage is just anger that’s burned up and channeled into something else, expended as quickly as it comes. Rage is nothing. But anger that’s contained, even cultivated? That’s like a wine. It grows deeper, and richer, and ferments into something greater. It grows more potent. It grows creative.
Anger is the mother of invention. And it has an infinite, indelible memory.
So don’t worry about me ranting on and on and how you’re going to die, Magatha. I know it’s what you’re expecting from me, but not this time. That’s a promise.
You’re not going to die, Magatha.
You’re going to beg to.
And when you do, I’m going to be completely, utterly, hideously…calm.
News from two fronts
Everything is going on schedule – maybe better – with the ogres and their move from Brackenwall Village to Alcaz Island. General Nazgrim has gone to Dustwallow Marsh to personally oversee everything, and set up base in Brackenwall with everyone who’ll be going with him on the initial strike on Theramore. The remaining ogres have been moving to Alcaz in small groups, with infantry escorts scouting the terrain around their travel path to make sure they’re not being observed.
One interesting development in the midst of all this: one of the relocation groups have reported that while just making their way out of Brackenwall Village, they had a run-in with a Grimtotem warrior. “Run-in” in the sense that the tauren was making a bee line to Brackenwall, and just happened to run up on the travel party on the way. Either way, she didn’t much care about being intercepted, and only seemed concerned about finding Horde personnel, essentially to turn herself in. When they took her into custody, she insisted she needed to be brought to Orgrimmar. Nazgrim is going to question her in the village and then see about sending her along this way, depending on whether he sees something fishy in the works. We ARE talking about a Grimtotem, after all, but then again, Magatha’s been largely on the outs with her own tribe ever since her last little scheme, so who knows.
Meanwhile, we’ve got news from the investigations in Stonetalon, and the bottom line could be good or not depending on how you want to look at it. Dontrag and Utvoch didn’t have much luck finding a whole lot of anything, other than tripping into one of those huge sludge pools at the Sludgewerks and finding themselves a giant sludge monster that hit them with some kind of sludge breath and sludge sludge sludge if I have to hear either one of them say “sludge” one more time I might have to behead them. Which I’m right on the edge of doing half the time anyway.
Krog, on the other hand, managed to have better luck. He was stealthing around near Farwatcher’s Glen, on the outskirts of their graveyard – where he found our old friend Grebo. Or what was left of him. According to Krog, the body was in pretty bad shape, had obviously been hacked up pretty badly by someone, or probably multiple someones. So safe to say Grebo didn’t meet a good end. Shiny. I only wish I could have been there to have been a part of it. Still, we don’t know WHO did us the favor of offing him, or why they decided to chuck the body off into the bushes to rot.
Still…as much as I’d like to let him KEEP rotting, at this point I’m not leaving anything else to chance. I’m having the body transported to Malaka’jin, where it’ll be burned on a funeral pyre. Normally I would send something like this to Cliffwalker Post, but that’s only going to dredge up painful memories for Overlord Cliffwalker. Odds are he and I would draw even in the Who Hates Grebo More competition, so I figure I’ll spare him having to deal with this one.
Burn well, Grebo. I’m sure, wherever you are now, you already are.
I am become death
If you’ve been paying attention lately, you might have noticed I’ve been having a lot of contact with some of our people down in Brackenwall Village – Krog about the goings-on in Stonetalon, Draz’Zilb about his potential uber-corruption spell. It hasn’t been a coincidence.
No surprise to anyone that I’ve been on a pretty steady boil ever since I realized that Varian and Jaina were in the guild and must have heard me talking about where I was going with my mother last week. I don’t know why I should be shocked by anything these humans do at this point. Thing is, though, Varian I can at least see. I mean, make no mistake, I hate that motherfucker, but at least it makes sense for him to have it in for me as well, and he’s not one to make any pretenses about it. We’ve had bad blood going back to the Violet Citadel, probably further, not to mention he’s a hateful dimwitted warmongering orc-hating bigot, so of course he would grab any opportunity to strike at me. And if an innocent has to die in the process, all the better. It’s Varian. I get it.
But Jaina? THAT sticks in my craw. Let’s even set aside all the joking around and clowning I do on her and all the cracks about her being a slut which granted they’re totally true but not really germane to the conversation right now. But this is the woman who tried to play herself off as Little Miss Peacemaker. Always playing the diplomat, coming off like she’s the level-headed human willing to yank Varian back when he’s being an asshole (which, admittedly, probably kept her pretty busy). Always hiding behind her incomprehensible friendship with Thrall, like that made her better and nobler than the rest of her kind. Like she just wants to be our friend too.
And she was a part of this. Even if she wasn’t taking action herself, she knew. She was there. And all the while she probably kept on wearing her “Oh dear me, why can’t we all work together?” fake smile.
So guess what our first target is going to be.
I’ve been meeting with General Nazgrim to work out the logistics for our first strike on Theramore. We’re planning two waves. The first will be a ground strike launched out of Brackenwall, hitting the main gate of the city with several infantry detachments with artillery support. That initial wave will serve two purposes: one, to break down the city’s outer defenses and allow our troops to make their way inside, and two, to keep Theramore’s defenses focused on the main gate, while the second wave comes in by sea and hits the harbor.
The second wave will be the key one, and deceptively small. We’ll be bringing quite a few ships, but very few troops aside from the actual crews necessary to navigate the vessels. The real purpose of the naval strike will be to hit the harbor, land, and get a single squadron to deliver the real centerpiece of the attack: Draz’Zilb, bearer of the new experimental chain corruption spell.
Remember how I mentioned Draz’Zilb’s spell sounded promising, but needed to be tested until controlled conditions? Well Theramore is going to be our field test. Our troops are going to get Draz’Zilb into the city long enough for him to find a decent-size cluster of humans, cast the spell, and then get back to the harbor while the chain reaction begins. Once the spell is deployed, our incursion group will fire off a signal to let all our troops know it’s underway. At that point, EVERYONE will head to the ships – the ground troops near the front gate can be making their way around the outer walls toward the shore – and then get out of there by sea. Hence bringing so many ships when we didn’t have that many troops in the naval group.
It works out perfectly, really. Theramore makes the ideal test target: a solitary human colony, densely populated but easy enough to isolate. As much as Dustwallow Marsh is swarming with life, it’s mostly spiders, crocolisks…nothing that isn’t expendable. Black dragonkin, the last leftovers of Onyxia’s brood? Good riddance. Yeah, a couple Grimtotem settlements, but do you think I’m going to shed any tears over them? The whole marsh is separated from the rest of Kalimdor by mountains and sea, perfectly enclosed. No spreading of the chain corruption beyond that one zone, however it plays out.
I love when things work out neatly like that.
Nazgrim and I are getting the last details sorted out. I even got a couple of the goblins from the Gob Squad to come in and put together a scale model of Theramore and its environs for us here in the war room, to help plan out troop and ship placement.
The only small wrinkle is the ogres in Brackenwall, seeing as we don’t want to end up wiping them all out with the corruption. Would be kind of rude, what with it being Draz’Zilb’s spell and all. So I’m having most of the ogre population – the ones who won’t be going on the actual attack – relocated temporarily to Alcaz Island. They’ll be safely isolated there until everything blows over, plus we can even use the island as a staging ground for the naval strike.
Preparations are already underway. I’ve had the ogres moving in small numbers for the last couple of days, so we can do it gradually enough not to draw attention. A couple more days and they should be safely situated on the island, and then we’ll be ready to start. And if things go according to plan, pretty soon Sylvanas’ plague will have some competition over on the other continent.
[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!]
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.
Seed of corruption
I mentioned the other day that I’ve been talking to Draz’Zilb down in Brackenwall Village. Granted, he can be creepy as hell sometimes, but dude knows how to get shit done, and he can be pretty damn handy as times as long as you don’t have to stay in the same room as him for too long. I think this is one of those times. He has something he’s been working on that might turn out to be pretty useful right now.
Odds are, most of you have heard of this spell that warlocks use called Seed of Corruption. Basically it seeds a target with a kind of shadow detonation that hurts the original target and anyone else that’s nearby. Warlocks that are really on top of their game can even cast the spell with an extra wrinkle, so that all those nearby targets caught in the detonation are afflicted with extra shadow damage that rots away at them over time.
Draz’Zilb tells me he’s worked up a way to take this to the nth degree. He believes he’s augmented the spell so that after that initial detonation, those surrounding targets that are afflicted with the additional ticking corruption? Well, after it finishes ticking, THEY detonate too. So, bonus A, the damage from that additional detonation, combined with the initial kaboom and the ticking corruption, would be enough to kill anybody short of a no-kidding-around badass. And more important, bonus B, it creates a potentially unlimited chain.
Think of it: Victim #1 takes the initial seed and goes boom, and the initial burst of damage also hits nearby Victims #2, 3, and 4. Victims #2-4 get whittled down by the additional ticking corruption, then THEY all detonate as well with a second shadow burst. And now…THAT explosion hits nearby Victims #5, 6, 7, 8, and 9. Who also get afflicted with corruption and take a time-bomb seed of their own. Repeat. Repeat. Keep repeating until there’s no one else around to spread the corruption chain to.
Obviously, if you don’t mind waiting a little, this makes for a potentially awesome one-step method for wiping out groups of enemies on a massive scale. I’m looking right at you, Stormwind.
That’s assuming it works, of course. First we have to test it out to make sure Draz’Zilb is right. So we need to give it a test run in a somewhat controlled setting. Then, it’s game on.
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.
Going Rogue
Citizens of the Horde,
A peculiar turn of events has taken place in Ahn’Qiraj. I have just received word from Krug Skullsplit that the impulsive rogue Garona Halforcen has left him in sole charge of our Twilight captives and departed from Silithus. According to Commander Skullsplit, Garona completed the interrogation of the last of the prisoners – the majority of whom, to her credit, have survived the process – then took off suddenly without explanation, save a rushed indication that she would be in contact with further updates shortly. As Garona has proven in the past to be a valuable operative, it is my hope that this erratic behavior is well justified and that she will take pains to explain herself soon.
Meanwhile, on the topic of Horde operatives whose work has proven valuable, the prestidigitous ogre Draz’Zilb appealed to me earlier today for permission to undertake his own questioning of our Grimtotem captives, given his expressed prior success in extracting information from members of the tribe. His suggestion was that he could likely verify the repeated Grimtotem claim that they were uninvolved in and unaware of the aggressions that occurred at Bladefist Bay and, more importantly, Alcaz Island. I agreed to the ogre’s request, with, as it turns out, mixed results.
On the positive side, we now have fairly reliable confirmation of our original Grimtotem testimony. None of the Grimtotem tribesmen had any awareness of any of the aforementioned Twilight’s Hammer activity; and the extent of their involvement in the events on Alcaz Island was the sending of a scouting party to the island well before catastrophe struck – scouts who, furthermore, have not been heard from since. Draz’Zilb’s methods leave me highly…dubious…that this final testimony would be false. It is, however, these very methods that leave me less than entirely satisfied with this entire undertaking. Prior to today, I was only aware of the fact of the ogre’s assistance in previous interrogations, and, absent any further, troubling information, I was content to let him proceed with his proposal. However, upon arriving to observe the questioning in person, I was most thoroughly disturbed by the spectacle that greeted me; by this point, three Grimtotem captives had already died to Draz’Zilb’s particular interrogation “techniques,” and I was quite uninterested in having a fourth life placed indirectly on my conscience. Let me make no mistake: that we will kill during times of conflict is a matter of necessity; how we will kill is a matter of choice. And I will not permit such unscrupulous undertakings to stain the honor of the Horde. No matter how dire the battle, we must never forsake it.
As such, I have relieved Draz’Zilb of his support duties and dispatched him back to Brackenwall Village, where, I am sure, the venerable ogre chief Tharg will tend to him appropriately. Meanwhile, in light of this confirmation of Grimtotem innocence – a term I use here in its more relative and situationally specific sense – I have begun to make plans to release many of our prisoners, provided a number of containment measures around their various settlements to ensure their ongoing good citizenship.
Once again the old adage proves true, friends: never trust an ogre not to be two-faced when he has two heads. Honor go with us all.
-Saurfang
