Tag Archives: eitrigg

30 Days of Character Development #11: Eitrigg

[Periodically, a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about!]

 

eitrigg_profile1Name: Eitrigg

Occupation: Advisor to the Warchief, former training overseer for new Horde recruits, former Honor Guard to the Warchief

Race: Orc

Class: Warrior

Age: 60

Group affiliations: Horde (citizen), Argent Crusade (member), Blackrock Clan (member by birth, later abandoned)

Known relatives: Ariok (son), two unnamed sons (deceased) (That is, two sons whose names have not been established, not two sons whom Eitrigg didn’t name. Because that would be not just weird, but actually more than a little cruel.), six unnamed siblings (deceased)

First appearance: “LOK’TAR OGAR!” (first mention), “By my right as Warchief” (first full transcript appearance)

Key posts and plot points:

  • Although he didn’t make many major blog appearances early on — he was typically a background character who was often mentioned but rarely actively involved in events — Eitrigg has been influential since the very beginning of the blog. In Garrosh’s first post, he noted that it was Eitrigg’s suggestion that he start the blog as an outlet for his thoughts and reactions. So, you see, you have Eitrigg to thank/blame for the existence of the Warchief’s Command Board in the first place!
  • Eitrigg has been an aide to the Warchief since shortly after Thrall established the new Horde. Early on, he has served in a number of capacities, including an advisor and a member of the Warchief’s Honor Guard. Interestingly, in the quest The New Horde, Eitrigg indicates that Thrall had charged him with overseeing the training of new Horde recruits; it’s worth noting that, in contrast, within the events of the blog, Eitrigg appears to be completely uninvolved in the military trainee program that Garrosh initiated.
  • One of Eitrigg’s notable appearances came in “Anger management,” in which he eitriggprofile4accompanied Tirion Fordring to Ben-Lin Cloudstrider’s group counseling session as a sponsor. Evidently, Highlord Paragraph gets a little irritable when he dips into the booze, a habit that his friend Eitrigg tries to curtail with mixed success.
  • When Garrosh left Orgrimmar to travel to Pandaria, he left Eitrigg in charge in his
    absence. As a result, Eitrigg was left to deal with Mokvar’s odd behavior in the early stages of the
    We All Have Our Demons arc. After Mokvar fled from Orgrimmar following a rash of suspicious behavior, Eitrigg issued the order that, despite their long association as advisors to the Warchief, Mokvar was banished from the Horde.
  • Garrosh eventually lifted Mokvar’s banishment and grew less confident in Eitrigg’s ability to mind the shop effectively. As a result, Garrosh installed Kor’kron overseers, particularly Overseer Elaglo and Overlord Runthak, to supervise and “advise” the senior orc. Eitrigg has, as a result, found his position in Grommash Hold even more marginalized than it already was, a detail that wasn’t entirely lost on his son, Ariok.

In his own words:

Describe your relationship with your mother or your father. Was it good? Bad? Were you spoiled rotten, ignored? Do you still get along now, or no?

My parents were stern but honorable. While they took the responsibilities of parenthood seriously, they were not particularly warm or sentimental. As they were parents to seven children in the oft-hostile environs of Gorgrond, I imagine they viewed niceties as luxuries they could rarely afford. I was the second youngest of the seven, and while my mother and father gave what care I required, they had no wealth of available time that would allow them to lavish attention on any one of us, least of all me. We all survived (the same could not be said of all my contemporaries or their siblings), so by the standards they set for themselves, they were successful.

Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from. If you don’t have any, is there a reason?

None that can be seen.

eitriggprofile3How vain are you? Do you find yourself attractive?

I consider myself quite unremarkable. I have always viewed myself so, I suppose, though in recent years when I have looked back at old etchings of my likeness from my youth, it has occurred to me that I was perhaps too hard on myself. I suspect we do not appreciate the attractiveness of our youth until it is long past. Either that, or the sketch artist was overly generous in his depiction of me, perhaps in an act of kindness born of sympathy. I would not rule it out.

Who do you trust?

Thrall, Varok, Vol’jin. I do not yet know Baine so well as I might like, but in our every dealing he has impressed me as the very likeness of his father. Above all others, I trust Tirion, who threw away the comfort and station of his family line on the hope that a member of a race he had known only for its barbarism might nevertheless have honor within him.

Can you define a turning point in your life? Multiples are acceptable.

If anything, my life has been an endless string of turns. While rarely easy, my youth in Gorgrond was probably the most stable time in my life. After that, life for me has taken the form of a zigzag rather than a line. The coming of the Legion and the pact with Mannoroth. The invasion of Azeroth and loss of our own world. The death of two of my three sons at the hands of supposed Blackrock kin, which led me to abandon the clan of my birth and forsake my own kind for the wilds of Lordaeron. A chance encounter in that alien land with a human paladin, which would open the door to the unlikeliest of new kinships. Thrall’s restoration of the Horde and his invitation for me to return to it at his side.

Through it all, I persevered as best I could with, I hope, what honor and dignity circumstance would allow me. Perhaps now, in my final years, fate will choose to grant me the stability I haven’t known since my earliest. Either that, or fate is merely lulling me into a false sense of security before throwing me once again into another sudden turn.

Is there an animal you equate to yourself?

A kodo. It is a beast neither glamorous nor frivolous, belligerent nor fawning. It has its tasks to perform, whether for its kin or its upright-walking masters, and it performs those tasks without complaint or ceremony.

eitrigg-follower1How are you with technology? Super savvy, or way behind the times? Letters or e-mail?

I cannot say that I have much affection for technology beyond the sorts of devices whose workings I can readily observe and apprehend. The catapult, the wagon, various tools of craftsmanship and agriculture. I do not fully trust machines that perform their tasks invisibly as if by magic. (Perhaps it is the warrior’s mindset in me; perhaps had I been raised a shaman I would feel differently.)

I have, nevertheless, tried to keep myself aware of newer technologies. I still do not trust them, but there are many things in life not to be trusted; to take that as an excuse for ignoring them only courts trouble. I am familiar, therefore, with the workings of the online and make regular use of the email. I suspect I am one of the more proficient computer users of my contemporaries, so I suppose I am not so bad with technology. Either that, or my peers are simply terrible with it. I would not rule out the latter.

At the very least, I knew enough about the internet to suggest to Garrosh that he might start a blog. I was rather surprised when he took my suggestion. (He is not generally in the habit of doing so.) In any case, I suppose you might consider me at least partially responsible for the Warchief’s blog. I have looked in on it, rather inconsistently, from time to time. I feel I might owe several people an apology.

How do you react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?

I am not bothered by cold. I recall several of Tirion’s colleagues in Northrend complaining about the temperature in Zul’Drak. I could not imagine why they found it so unbearable. For me, the opposite was true. There is a reason why hell is hot.

Sadly, I am not in a position to dictate the temperature of my workplace. Garrosh evidently prefers to keep a warm hearth, uncomfortably so in my estimation. I have, over the years, attempted to point out the needless expense he incurs by refusing to turn down the heat, but as is usually the case, he rarely listens. You would think he would at least have the front door to Grommash Hold sealed. But, oh no, much better for us to heat the whole Valley of Strength.

eitriggprofile2Are you an early morning bird or a night owl?

An early morning bird. I get up at sunrise, perhaps earlier in the winter months. I do not know, at my age, how much more time I have remaining, and I prefer not to waste more of it sleeping than need be. I will have plenty of time to sleep after I am dead. Or after 9:00 PM.

Are there any blood relatives that you are particularly close with, besides the immediate ones? Cousins, uncles, grandfathers, aunts, etc. Are there any others that you practically consider a blood relative?

All of my blood relations, save for my son Ariok, are dead — many, like Ariok’s two brothers, gone far before their time. I consider Tirion my brother; though his blood is not orcish, that blood — and mine — nevertheless bind us in honor. I just wish he would lay off the ale.

If you could time travel, where would you go?

The future, many years hence. I would like to see how all this ends, and I cannot imagine I will still be alive when the many questions of our age are finally settled.

 

Previous Profiles:

  1. Spazzle Fizzletrinket
  2. Ben-Lin Cloudstrider
  3. Dontrag and Utvoch
  4. Taktani
  5. Korrina
  6. Mylune
  7. Mokvar
  8. Ruekie
  9. Tirion Fordring
  10. Lady Liadrin
 

This is gonna hurt…

utvoch1

…but I guess I might as well just pull the bandage off instead of picking at it.

Maybe. Ugh.

So, okay. After the way things went down with Gurtash, and the braintrust tailing him, Eitrigg had one of those rare moments when he had an idea I actually agreed with. Eventually. Begrudgingly.

So, yeah, let’s get this over with.

In light of his — hold the presses — good work the other day, and stepping up to make the save with Gurtash… I’ve decided… been persuaded… to give Scout Utvoch… a promotion.

To Grunt.

Which probably isn’t even as big a deal as it might sound, seeing as Scout is the entry-level Horde military rank, and Utvoch’s been a scout for like eleven years. Which is sort of the military equivalent of repeating your freshman in high school until you’re 27. Although if you happen to be THIS hypothetical freshman, it… never mind. TRYING TO STAY POSITIVE.

ANYWAY, point is, I guess this is maybe overdue anyway.

Maybe.

You know, if you overlook the crashing incompetence.

BUT I GUESS TODAY ISN’T THE DAY TO GET INTO THAT.

So, yeah, grats, Utvoch.

Fuck. Now I have to figure out which one of the Wonder Twins he is.

 

Brand loyalty

eitrigg1

One last quick followup to the whole Pandaren Noodle Festival thing from the other day (where, I’ll have you know, my spicy talbuk noodles went over pretty damn well before D&U-plus-one managed to fall ass-backwards into a new and better form of post-felweed munchie food).

One thing from the festival that I’ve had rattling around in the ol’ noggin ever since then was when Ji was telling us about some Pandaren cooking contest called Iron Chef, and then Mokvar chimed in with the idea of doing our own version called Iron Horde Chef. Among some other possible names he kind of stumbled his way through. Which just goes to show you that Mokvar didn’t have the good sense to recognize the one real winner and latch onto it, which ONCE AGAIN shows you why yours truly is in charge around here.

Anyhow, the point of this isn’t the cooking contest thing, but that idea Mokvar had for a name. Because seriously, how badass does “Iron Horde” sound? IF YOU WERE THINKING “EXTREMELY BADASS, GARROSH,” THEN CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE CORRECT. And so, even though Shayari thought she was being funny with her little comment about rebranding, JOKE’S ON YOU, DOELING, because that’s exactly what I went and looked into. BECAUSE HOW AWESOME WOULD THAT SOUND, SERIOUSLY? Had a talk with Eitrigg this afternoon about how a name change would work in the books. And, hey, let me finish it this way, seeing as I’m still in kind of an EPIC VERSEy kind of mood after that last mailbag

 

I took it to my numbers guy and left him really pensive
To wrack his brain and make a try at changes so extensive,
So sweeping, spanning, nationwide, systemic, comprehensive,
That if they ever were applied, the win would be intensive.
I rallied reasons that I scried and argued in defense of
My badass plan, but woe betide: old man’s counteroffensive:
The filing, fees, and forms beside, red tape you can’t make sense of
Reveal the fact, can’t be denied — that shit ain’t inexpensive.

EPIC VERSE!

 

I mean, you wouldn’t think changing over all the stationery and business cards would cost that much, BUT YOU WOULD BE WRONG. And that’s not even figuring in little miss you-know-who’s latest shopping trip.

Dammit, Eitrigg. Guess I better toss a few more Brawler’s Guild invites up on the AH.

More soon.

 

Warchiefing for dummies

books1

So it occurs to me that not everybody is a natural leader like I am, but maybe you’re in a position where you’re saddled with some kind of authority. Maybe you didn’t even ask for the job, but it got handed to you anyway. You’re probably in over your head, actually, what with you not being ME or anything, but you’ve got the job regardless and now you’ve got to make the best of it. And so I know what you’re thinking: “Dammit, Garrosh, how can I be awesome like you at this?”

Well, I’ve got good news and bad news for you, skipper. The bad news is, sorry, you can’t be awesome like me. Let’s be real here, right? But the good news is that you CAN at least learn to suck a little less. And to help you out with that, here comes your favorite Warchief to lay down the ins and outs of kickass, badass, all-around-ass pro leadership.

Or: WARCHIEFING FOR DUMMIES.

Now before everybody starts shitting themselves based on the title, don’t panic, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not getting ready to hand off leadership to somebody else, and even if I did I would probably just be trolling or some shit. No, don’t worry, you get to look forward to having ol’ Garrosh in charge for a good long time still.

What this IS is a set of handy-dandy guidelines for making the most of your own leadership position. Maybe you’re a military commander. Like me. Or maybe you’re a guild leader on Earth Online. Like me. Or maybe you run your own… I don’t know, you run your own diner, like a barbeque place specializing in the awesomeness of pork, maybe call it Bacon R Us or something. Which, holy shit, if that place DOESN’T already exist, somebody needs to get on the stick and open it like pronto, because I’ll be over for dinner like fucking TONIGHT. Table for two, 7:15. Make sure you’ve got extra sauce stocked.

Point is, though, if you don’t have the benefit of being ME, then you could probably benefit from getting a little more me-ness in your operation. So, here’s your very own personal desperately needed guide to getting some Garrosh in you. (Ladies.)

So, let’s get down to some Warchiefing.

THE BASICS

So, this first point should be painfully obvious to anyone who isn’t stupid, but if there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s that assuming someone isn’t stupid is almost always a losing proposition. So I’ll go ahead and point out the obvious to you fuckers: being an authority figure means having authority OVER someone. And the more authority you have, the more of those someones you’ve got, until you make your way all the way up to my level, where you’re so much of a boss that people look at you and try to fathom just how much of a boss you are and their heads just go blank and all they can come up with is “??” Only you’re NOT really going to make your way up to that level, because that level is my level, and nobody else is going to reach that level while I’m around, so don’t go getting any ideas.

SO.

If you’re the person in charge, that means you have minions. Hopefully, your minions aren’t as FUCKING INCOMPETENT as most of MY minions, but, you know, good luck there. Point is, though, one way or another, those minions are what you’ve got to work with. Which leads us to our first few Warchiefing guidelines:

USE YOUR DAMN MINIONS

This should be pretty obvious — you might be noticing a theme developing already — but let’s be honest here. If obvious shit was really obvious to everyone, they wouldn’t need me to point it out. Obvious is only obvious to people with enough brains to see the… obviosity. YES THAT’S A FUCKING WORD. Obviously.

The point is, your minions are there to work for you. So put them to work. Delegate. Figure out what your minions don’t completely suck at, and get those motherfuckers busy doing that. If at all possible, also try to watch out for what they DO completely suck at, and then, don’t let them do that. This last item might be hard to manage, depending on how stupid the minions in question are. One way or another, though, get them working. If the shit they’re able to do lines up with shit you’d just as soon avoid yourself, by the way? WIN-WIN.

Case in point: when I first became Warchief, one of the biggest surprises was just how much time I ended up being stuck with paperwork. Like you would not BELIEVE how many forms need to get filled out in an average day of running an ambiguously structured quasi-totalitarian regime the dictatorial nature of which only became questionable to anyone once it was being run by the guy WITHOUT the fucking messiah complex. I think I might have digressed a little there. But anyway. I had all this paperwork piling, form after form to fill out, and hoo boy was that eating up my day and leaving me precious little time to… you know… play computer games and write EPIC VERSE. And just… be awesome and stuff. But LO AND BEHOLD, right there in Grommash Hold with me was old man Eitrigg, with his nice tidy penmanship and his cushy retirement plan that he didn’t want to cash in on even though he was like a zillion years old, and his charming habit of bitching and moaning to me about everything and anything if he didn’t have something to keep him otherwise occupied. So what did I do? That’s right, I KEPT HIS ASS FUCKING OCCUPIED.

Actually, scratch that. That made it sound vaguely dirty, and OH SHIT I bet Rule 34 has already engaged. Shit. Okay, well, moving on.

The point is, I shuffled that paperwork right on over to the old dude, and let him worry about “in triplicate” being a depressingly recurrent phrase in his life, while I freed myself up to get back to things more in line with my Warchieferous stature. DELEGATION, bitches.

So, as much as possible, you need to have a clear, solid sense of what your people have going for them, so you can use them effectively. Here, take a few examples of what I’m talking about:

mokvar-follower1

dontrag-follower1

utvoch-follower1

So, see, that gives you a basic sense of what you need to know about what your people bring to the table. Actually, come to think of it, that could be a pretty cool resource: like have a table where you could have all that information about your minions gathered in one place, and then you use it to assign them to whatever missions need to be covered, and then you can dispatch them right from there.

Hmm.

Actually, fuck that. I bet that setup would be cool for like a week or two, then become fucking BORING. Fuck that. I don’t want to be stuck at a damn desk all the time. I want to get out there and do some stuff myself. OKAY THEN, on second thought:

HANDS-ON LEADERSHIP

Let’s be honest here. Contrary to what the touchy-feely motherfuckers of the world would have you believe, it’s not a matter of stepping back and letting your people do their job and trusting them not to fuck it up. They’re GOING to fuck it up, okay? I’m just telling you the facts here. The fucking math doesn’t lie. Odds are, they’re going to fuck something up. You could give them a job to do that’s got, like, a fucking 99% chance of working, and just you watch them dig down deep and crowbar their stupid asses into that 1%. And that’s when you sometimes have to be ready to get out there in the field and show those dumbasses how shit gets done. So whether it’s blood elves who can’t figure out why they’re getting their baby teeth kicked in by a bunch of statues, or blood elves who think it’s a hot idea to send one random scrub into an enemy lair, or blood elves… I don’t know. Some third thing. Probably involving blood elves. POINT IS, don’t be afraid to roll up your sleeves and take matters into your own hands.

For one thing, it’s good for morale when the troops see you out there in the trenches with them. Plus, that way, when they DO fuck up, and then you pimp in and show them how fucking easy it is for a non-jackass to do things, well, you’ve already given them enough rope to hang themselves, so now you get to come down like a mountain of hellfire on them, and if they happen to leave some rope literally lying around the joint, maybe even ACTUALLY hang them. Because THAT’S how you make sure that the NEXT batch of minions sees what happens when fuckuppery ensues, and maybe get more motivated to have their asses in gear than the last (late) bunch of minions.

See, at the end of the day, it’s all about the tough love.

So go on, get out there, kick some ass, take some names, then use the names to yell at the motherfuckers while you kick their asses some more. You’ll feel better, believe me.

THE BIG PICTURE

The biggest reason you want to delegate, though, isn’t because you’re lazy, or because you want to amuse yourself watching the B-listers try to stay on top of an A-list job and almost certainly shit all over themselves as a result, or because you prefer spending your time eating an assortment of tasty lemon squares off of an assortment of tasty groupies. I mean, you probably do, because really, but that’s not the main reason. The most important reason to delegate is because the jobs you’re going to delegate, no matter how important they might be, they’re just the DETAILS. But YOU are the one who’s mapped out how those details are going to add up to something. You’re the one thinking five steps ahead. You’re the man with the plan. OR WOMAN, OR WOMAN, DON’T START WRITING FUCKING LETTERS, GEEZ.

Point is, you’re the one who’s got it all figured out, because seriously, does THAT sound like a job you want to leave to the Dontrags and Utvochs of the world? No, of course not. They don’t know what the fuck’s going on. When you send your minions into a situation, they don’t have the sense to realize all the things that could go wrong. But YOU do — you know perfectly well all the ways the operation could — probably WILL — end up blowing up in everyone’s face. So you need to stay freed up to continue figuring out all the reasons why the mission is doomed to failure and is probably a bad idea to begin with, and then send their asses out to give it the ol’ college try anyway. Probably the ol’ COMMUNITY college try, given the likely state of your minions, but still.

That’s all I’ve got for now. I might add to it another time if more unfathomable genius comes to me.

More soon.

 

A day in the life

orgrimmar5

So, the last few mailbags have gotten me thinking. I’ve been getting a bunch of questions about pretty regular day-to-day things in my life — nuts and bolts about what I do and why. Just another part of being a celebrity, I guess, and a pretty damn awesome one at that. Point is, with all the crazy crap that goes on around here, I think I might have gotten so busy keeping everyone updated on the BIG NEWSY stuff that I haven’t bothered talking about anything else. Which, you know, was kind of the POINT of writing the damn blog in the first place. You know. THOUGHTS AND MUSINGS AND SHIT.

Well, maybe not shit. Not literally. Because gross.

Point is, though, I’m going to try to be a little better about posting on the NON-BIG-GIANT-WORLD-ALTERING stuff that’s going on or that I have in mind or whatever. So, for those of you interested in more of an inside look at what it’s like to be me (short version: way better than it is to be you), here, have a peek into a sample of a day in the life of everyone’s favorite Warchief.

(That would be ME, you UNGRATEFUL SMARTASSES out there.)

 

8:09 AM – Woke up. Rolled out of bed. Pulled razor across my head. (I try to be diligent about shaving. Wouldn’t be a big deal if I only had some stubble on my FACE — the tattoos would make it hard to see anyway — but if it starts getting visible on top, you start seeing what a bad draw I got as far as middle-aged hairlines go. I’ll tell you, my mother’s side of the family must have had some fucking awful hair, because I sure as hell didn’t get mine from Grom.)

8:16 AM – Morning jog around Grommash Hold. Worked up good sweat but noticed several vendors conspicuously absent. Unable to amuse self by slapping them on the way by. Possibly vendors getting wise. Two years later. Never said they were sharpest tools. Disappointing nonetheless. Post-slap reactions always good for chuckle. Especially troll.

8:43 AM – Bacon. Also: more bacon.

8:51 AM – Kafa. Really not bad at all. Maybe should have listened to Ruekie about Starbulls earlier. Remember to check with her about other blends later. Potential application of haste buff stacking with Recklessness.

9:00 AM – Budget review meeting with Eitrigg. Gramps raised some concerns about an increase in the “Warchief discretionary spending” category. Don’t even get me started.

10:00 AM – Staff meeting with Malkorok, Overlord Runthak, and Overseer Elaglo. Updates on a number of projects, plus a few security oddities from Malk. Mokvar working with Xorenth today, so Taktani recording notes. Malkorok less than pleased. Can’t really blame him. Some sensitive topics, so not publishing transcript.

11:32 AM – On way out after meeting, had to suffer through, and minimize, small talk with Dontrag. Or Utvoch. Not sure. Apparently waiting for Tak after meeting. Luckily escaped when she came out.

11:36 AM – Note to self: Check on which one of D&U is which.

11:37 AM – Followup note to self: Don’t really give shit which is which. Disregard previous.

11:45 AM – Shayari gets back from morning of mage training with Faranell in Undercity. As per recommendation, Doc showed her Ice Block today. Apparently never bothered picking it up because she’s a fire mage. Dalaran, Shmalaran. Don’t know what those fuckers were teaching her.

Shay also delivered (another) invoice from Faranell for his jaw replacement. Can’t possibly really be that expensive. Also not crazy about Materials; “headhunting” and acquisition line item. Bad feeling about this.

12:20 PM – Lunch at Broken Tusk. Pretty good special, “Agamaggan’s pulled pork.” Needs bacon, though. Then again, what doesn’t?

12:36 PM – While eating, interrupted by Dontrag. Or Utvoch. Not sure. Not the one from earlier. Other one. Yammered on about something. Difficult to follow as I wasn’t listening. Can only assume that sounds of me eating sounded to him like “Tell me about your life.” Really crossed the line, though, when he started going on and on about wanting to set up a double date for him and the other one.* Thought of those two on dates led to prospect of them breeding. Lost appetite at that point and left. See, proves my point about bacon. Would have still been worth it in that case.

* Not with me. Double date for them and two someones (sometwos?) else. Not me. Even bacon couldn’t have salvaged that shit if so.

1:30 PM – Combat drills with trainees. Focus today on defensive maneuvers, parrying, mitigation skills. Overall decent performance. Korrina still a little reckless. Rook possibly a little too quick to hit “oh shit” buttons, but growing more adept at self-heals. Bodes well for group use, maybe occasional off-healing. Giska doing well with unarmed combat, blocking especially, skill less successful while using a weapon. Possibly check with Lunchbox on this. Tuekie, Zorekk coming along well, performance gap remains but growing less conspicuous. Mirembe and Tov’osh still on training maneuvers in Northrend.

3:00 PM – Extra melee practice with Gurtash. Trying to ease him back in but he’s still a little slow to pick things back up. Very hesitant. Hit accuracy seems uncompromised by injury, so that’s good. Kept to short session today. Don’t want to discourage him but combat skills need to take major step forward if he’s to perform honorably. And survive. More side sessions to follow.

4:00 PM – Hop onto Earth Online. Not going to bother logging guild chat — only getting on for a few minutes to check auctions and knock out a few dailies, then I’ll be logging off.

6:11 PM – Finally logged off of Earth Online. Man. Game really goes have a way of sucking you in and burning the day. Didn’t even really do anything especially fun. Didn’t even really do much of ANYTHING. Two hours gone anyway. How the hell does Genesis do it? Check on this — could have potential mind control / military applications. Make mental note for next meeting with Blackfuse and/or Draz’Zilb. And of course, Shay had to pop in and snarky comments about nerdy gaming. Again.

6:20 PM – Tried to take Shay to this new barbecue place over in the Drag for dinner. When we arrived, found Dontrag and Utvoch there.

Positive: Both there, so no need to worry about who’s who.

Negative: Both there.

Double negative: Don’t CARE who’s who, which cancels out positive above. (Math nerds: Yes, in this case double negative cancels the positive and not the negatives. Don’t get panties in a bunch. Also: HEAD HURTS.)

Triple negative: They were chatty.

6:22 PM – Got the fuck out of there and headed home. I’ll send for takeout, dammit. Fuck that noise. (Literal noise.)

6:27 PM – Passed by Kodohide Leatherworkers on way home. Had to drag Shay away to avoid shopping spree. She stuck head in doorway, entire staff greeted her by name. Fuck me.

7:21 PM – Shay tries to conjure lemon squares for dessert. Not something that usually promises much success but she decides she wants to try it anyway. Goes about as well as you might expect.

7:34 PM – Leave note for repair crew to come by tomorrow to take care of damage to kitchen. Not looking forward to bill. Also make mental note to talk to Faranell about the lemon square thing or failure thereof. What the hell am I paying for. Remember this next time he tries griping about the bill for his damn jaw.

 

30 Days of Character Development #9: Tirion Fordring

[Periodically — granted, that’s been a long period in this case — a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about! I promise the next one will come along with much less delay than this one…]

 

Name: Tirion Rutherford Alouicious Wulfric Fordring IV

tirion_profile1Occupation: Supreme Commander of the Argent Crusade, Highlord of the Silver Hand, co-leader of the Ashen Verdict, lord of Mardenholde Keep, governor of Hearthglen

Race: Human

Class: Paladin

Age: 59

Group affiliations: Argent Crusade (leader), Knights of the Silver Hand (founding member and highlord), Ashen Verdict (co-leader), Hearthglen (former and current governor), Kingdom of Lordaeron (former citizen), Alliance of Lordaeron (former member)

Known relatives: Karandra Fordring (wife, deceased), Taelan Fordring (son, deceased), Devlin Fordring (father, deceased), Talya Fordring (mother, deceased), Lucius Fordring (uncle, deceased), Tirion Fordring III (grandfather, deceased) (Apparent survival tip: Don’t be related to Tirion Fordring.)

Earth Online notes: Tirion Fordring doesn’t play Earth Online, as far as anyone knows. (And you know it wouldn’t be even remotely difficult to pick him out if he ever turned up online…)

First appearance: “Monday mailbag” (first mention and anecdote), “Where did all the words go?” (first transcript appearance)

Key posts and plot points:

  • Tirion Fordring, obviously, is a major lore character whose backstory is long and voluminous (fittingly enough, eh?). We’ll only be touching on plot points here that are immediately relevant to his blog appearances; those interested in a broader look at Highlord Paragraph’s history should check out his entry on Wowpedia.
  • Tirion, as it turns out, had a hand in some of the…ahem…cranial oddities of Garrosh’s Cataclysm-era model. When asked by a mailbag reader about his unusually small head, Garrosh related that he accidentally squeezed his own head down to its smaller size while trying to cover his ears to block out Tirion’s endless droning in Icecrown Citadel.
  • Tirion’s first major appearance in the blog occurred early in the Anti-Plague of Southshore arc, in which he set Garrosh on the trail that would eventually lead him to old Southshore by relating the story of the mysterious crystal that the Knights of the Silver Hand used to forge the Ashbringer. (The blog version of the Ashbringer story, incidentally, blog-canonically confirms a longstanding fan theory: that the crystal from which the Ashbringer was forged was actually the remains of a dying Naaru.) He later gave the human incarnation of Edwin Faranell a home in Hearthglen (until everything started to go all wibbly whimey splodey).
  • In the subsequent Timequake storyline, Garrosh found himself drawn into an alternate timeline in which Tirion died in Icecrown Citadel and was raised as the first of the Lich King’s new Deathbringers. In this timeline, the Ashbringer had passed to Lady Liadrin, who had assumed leadership of the Argent Crusade after Tirion’s death.
  • Argent Confessor Paletress, as depicted in “Argent Gossip Girl,” suggests that to those who work with him closely on a daily basis, Tirion may be more temperamental, lewd, and alcohol-driven than his outer persona might suggest.
  • Tirion made a memorable appearance in Orgrimmar in “Anger Management,” in which, “sponsored” by Eitrigg, Tirion attended the anger management class conducted by Ben-Lin Cloudstrider. Evidently, Tirion gets rather angry when drunk. There was some indication that Eitrigg has been laboring with mixed success to steer his friend away from his worse inclinations. Poor Eitrigg.
  • Tirion’s appearances in the blog are often accompanied by cameos from Daria L’Rayne, one of his aides in Mardenholde Keep. As a coda to a number of these posts, the long-suffering Daria offers words of wisdom in the form of Daria’s Pro Tips for Dealing with Tirion. Pro tips enumerated thus far have been:
    • #8: Do not wear black mageweave leggings. Ever. Ever.
    • #11: If he asks you if you want to hear a story, say yes. He’s going to tell you either way, but if you say no, he’ll just take longer getting to it. Think of it as steering into the skid, only with the skid being a tedious barrage of words.
    • #14: Never make eye contact. Eye contact makes him assume you’re interested, and increases word output by 25%.
  • Let’s establish some bonus blog canon for the first time: Tirion shares a birthday with our very own Warchief. Specifically, December 17. (Backstory: While working on a timeline of blog and canonical lore events — which will be added to the When Is This? page as soon as I finish getting a table set up and formatted — I noticed that Garrosh mentioned being 34 years old in one post that, in the world of the blog, would have taken place in November, then later noted that he was 35 years old in a post that took place in February. This meant that Garrosh’s birthday would probably be either in December or January, and since my own birthday falls on December 17, I figured, what the hell, I’ll give Garrosh that birthdate too. Shortly thereafter, an Ask.fm question prompted me to do a little research on famous people who shared my birthday. One notable I discovered who was born on December 17 was actor Bernard Hill, who, in addition to playing Theoden in the Lord of the Rings movies (dock yourself 20 nerd points if you needed me to tell you that), is also the in-game voice actor for one Tirion Fordring. And from there…well, really, those last couple dots just connect themselves.)
  • Thanks to regular commenter (and unofficial blog historian) Shen Wei, Tirion Fordring has a presence on Twitter as @HighlordFordrin. Yes, you read that right. Tirion on Twitter. The 140-character-limit jokes practically write themselves.

tirionprofile1

In his own words:

Describe your relationship with your mother or your father. Was it good? Bad? Were you spoiled rotten, ignored? Do you still get along now, or no?

Greetings and good day, my friend! A pleasure to have your company this fine afternoon in Heathglen! Far too few visitors have graced these halls in recent days — not always so, I assure you! There was once a time — not long ago, in fact, but soon after I made my return from Northrend to take my place once again in Mardenholde Keep — when travelers would frequent Hearthglen, and these halls would sing with the raucous voices of fellowship! But strangely, my friend, most strangely, those voices have of late grown fewer and less frequent, as these past few years, for reasons unknown surely to any but the sagest seers, fewer and fewer visitors have found their way to these gates. Do not misunderstand me, of course, good pilgrim; a regular stream of adventurers still make their way here — often at the behest of my friend and colleague Nathaniel Dumah — drawn in equal measure from the peoples of the Alliance and Horde alike, offering their most-welcome aid to our noble efforts here. Nevertheless, their numbers grow few, and often transient, arriving in haste and departing just as swiftly, caught up, no doubt, in the rush and tumult to which youthful fervor is predisposed; and so our halls grow strangely quiet, our streets peculiarly empty of the visitors who once passed routinely within these walls. Surely not, however, for the lack of a warm welcome to be found here in Hearthglen, I assure you, my friend! To which you yourself, I hope, might attest! And even not, dear visitor, you may rest assured that I will endeavor personally to amend such failings before your time here as my guest has come to a close. A time, I can only hope, that will not run its course too quickly!

But now, I fear, I may have gone briefly astray of your original inquiry. But you will, I trust, forgive me my preamble, born as it was of the enthusiasm of a delighted host! Now then, to your question! What was our topic again, my friend?

Oh. Um… your relationship with your mother and father?

Ah yes! I recall it now! So you care to hear of the Fordring line that came before me! Quite the yarn to be spun, I can assure you, my friend, as the Fordrings, I will have you know, were present among the earliest of settlers to make their way north from the kingdom Arathor to lay the foundation of what would in time become Lordaeron. My kin arose from humble beginnings, as did many noble houses of their day, but thus began the story of a family line which, if you will forgive the brief immodesty of familial pride, may now lay claim to a legacy to rival those of some of the most celebrated houses on our time. Alas, my friend, it is a legacy that now nears its end, as — with the tragic passing of my beloved, departed son Taelan — I now stand as the last of the line of Fordrings. I do not ask your pity, though, good sir. All great stories must of necessity find their end — and I assure you I have every hope that my own chapter is yet far from its final pages! Regardless, I know you are not here to hear of endings, and no endings will you be forced upon you! Beginnings, then! The beginning of our tale, of the House of Fordring, a story — nay, a saga! — that now spans well past a thousand years! A thousand years, my friend! Can you fathom it? Such spans of time must tax the imagination of even the greatest of mortal minds, at least among we races who are so short-lived. Surely to the night elves — my esteemed aide Miss L’Rayne proudly among their number — this millennium-long expanse might seem as fleeting as a summer afternoon, and yet, to we more mortal beings? An endless expanse, long enough to encompass the rise and fall of empires and string together generations by the dozen. And so allow me to grace you, as per your inquiry, some small sampling of those generations: the line of Fordrings as they reach out across a thousand years! Again I ask you, my friend, can you imagine it? A thousand years of Fordring!

I think I’m beginning to understand what that would be like.

Hah! Indeed! Then yours is a keener intellect than mine, my friend! Often have I pondered the vastness of history, and equally often have I found my mind incommensurate to the task of grasping its enormity. But then, I labor under no delusions: I am an educated man, good fellow, but I do not presume to count myself among the great thinkers of our day. Perhaps history will count you among them, eh? Perhaps so! It would not surprise me in the least, noble scholar, for I see in you the quiet focus that oft accompanies great minds: you speak little, and think much! Is it not so? Indeed, I count myself fortunate to have found myself, by serendipity, in the company of many such minds.

And so, let us begin, let us not? The day grows short, and we have centuries of history to discuss! And so, to the beginning, and the mighty realm of Arathor!

Actually, this question was really just about your parents.

Ah! I see, I see — and here you prove me right, my friend! The focused mind of the scholar you do indeed possess, training with marksman-like precision upon the key object of your inquiry! It is a discipline of mind that serves you well in your studies, my friend; I myself would make a path through libraries and symposia that would surely prove more discursive. A credit to you! Yet if you would indulge an old man his musings, might I urge you in your pursuits to be wary of too great a focus, a narrowing of vision so intent as to cause all the world around you to fall away. My own dear uncle Lucius, I’ll have you know, fell victim to just such proclivities; he was a scholar in his own right, in his day, though he fell victim to misfortune ere he could complete such research as might be remembered. He, too, was ever focused on his studies: toiling night and day over tomes and scrolls; scrying into the records of the past in tireless search for hidden clues to unfathomable puzzles; never wavering, never relenting, until, at last, from too long reading and too short sleeping, my poor, dear uncle finally lost his grasp on reality, and spent his remaining days rambling through the world chasing bats and railing against windmills. His is, indeed, a tragic but fascinating tale in its own right, one which I suspect you may well find instructive. I recall all too well the final days of our interaction, when he lived near Andorhal, not far from this very place.

I’tirionprofile3m sure that’s fascinating and all, but… your parents.

Hah! Well played, good sir, well played! You catch an old man once again in his departures into memory. For such is the burden of so long life, is it not, my friend? The ease with which one may yield to the temptation of memory, to wander wistfully back to revisit a life well-lived. Ah, but I forget myself now, for I see your eyes yet glimmer with the brightness of youth, though I suspect I may yet catch as well the momentary, ephemeral shadow of hardship. Such is the burden for us all, is it not, my friend, all of us who have lived through the mounting troubles of our troubled age? Dark days, my noble scholar. Yet hope endures for a world we might yet build.

In any case, your question deserves an answer. Let me turn now, at last, to the crux.

Oh thank goodness.

My parents were modest in means but noble in mien. As I have alluded to, our family had been among the earliest of Arathi settlers to undertake the sojourn north into the land that would come be known as Lordaeron — ah, fear not, my friend; I see the shadow of vexation fall over your eyes, but I assure you no harm befell them during the trek, and while the details of their travels could spin into many a captivating a yarn in their own right, I must surely for not stay the course with the matter at hand. You shall not lure me into digression, my friend, so for now you must need content yourself with noting down points for subsequent inquiry! I commend you, though, for your obvious fascination — ah, your curiosity recommends you, good sir.

Now where was I? Oh yes! My parents were the most recent of tradesmen and craftsmen in the Fordring line — occasionally taking arms in defense of the kingdom, but, while serving with honor and distinction, never garnering acclaim for heroic deeds of particular note. Nevertheless, we were an honored family, respected, and while never affluent, my parents never wanted for the necessities, nor indeed some modest few of the pleasantries, of life. Just so, I cannot say I knew want as a child, though in retrospect I likewise cannot say I was showered with material things — the world, it seemed, furnished me with toys and diversions enough, without my needing to pester my parents to secure me others from the local shops. That, I suppose, was an austerity of nature instilled in me by my mother, Talya, who I recall would often remark on the misguided avarices that often plagued the ambitious: that the sense of one’s own happiness oft would rise from comparison between the measure of what one has, against what one wants; and that far too many of us err in thinking that the key to their contentment lies in maximizing the former, when in truth the key is minimizing the latter.

Clearly, of course, good fellow, I did not fully apprehend the wisdom of my mother’s words — hardly was I a deep thinker as a child. Indeed, one might yet argue, hardly am I one now! Hah! I see the look in your eyes, my friend, and know that I have beaten you to the jest! Hah again, I say! Well played again, sir!

Where was I?

Well, I think that pretty much covered–

Ah yes! My parents! And so, my dear, departed mother instilled in my a modesty of want that, I am sure, forestalled in me any sense of limitation in our means. My father, meanwhile, the late sir Delvin Fordring, took pains to teach me of duty and honor, and the kinship of all mortal souls. It was he who instilled in me an understanding of the fine line that separates even the most fortunate from the least, and the resulting shared duty that unites us all in turn. For we are all our brother’s keeper, are we not, my friend? And just so, under my father’s influence — aside perhaps from the earliest of youthful misjudgments, which, I assure you, Father was only too quick to correct, with no small degree of sternness — even before I had reached my teenage years, more than one would-be schoolyard bully had found his nose bloodied at my still-growing hands. I recall, indeed, on more occasion than one, returning home bearing on my own person the unmistakable marks of scuffle; to which Father’s only inquiry would be “Whose bruises would they have been, if not yours?”; to which — provided my truthful response: one smaller, one weaker, one set upon by an assailant against whom they could pose no defense — his only judgment would be “Then wear them well.” It would be the sense of duty and compassion instilled in me by both my parents in kind that would send me, soon enough, into service in the defense of Lordaeron. Would that they were still with us, to witness the world that yet we — I — strive to build in their memory, in their honor, a lasting tribute to their guidance.

So… Are you…finished?

My friend? Did I omit some salient detail you had hoped to glean from my youth? By all means, sir, if you feel some facet remains overlooked in my haste to expedite the tale–

No, no, that’s fine. I should probably get to the next question.

By all means! The night is young, and I am, of course, at your disposal, my friend, for however long I might be of aid to you!

Right… I kind of figured. Okay, so…next question:

Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from. If you don’t have any, is there a reason?

I am a veteran of many battles of many wars, my friend — too many, indeed, for who but a fool or a monster would wish upon this world further bloodshed, when far too great a toll in lives has been paid, sacrificed upon the ill-begotten altar of all our foolish vanity? Who would seek such a thing? None, I tell you, good scholar — at least none that I should ever wish to find in my company. Not a problem we find here now between us, though, eh, my friend? None indeed! For I look into your eyes and know that we are two of a kind, bound in fellowship by our shared desire for the prosperity of our world, and the final attainment of that precious peace that has long — too long — eluded us.

Now, my friend, as to your question: scars, you ask! Scars indeed, good author, for after all the many days that I have spent awash in the conflicts of our age, many are the marks upon my person that I have taken with me as trophies, mementos of time spent amid the sober work of battle. I see that you, too, bear such trophies — you have seen a battle or two in your day as well, eh, my friend? A shame that fate has deemed it necessary, and yet an honor to know what such valiant souls as yourself yet walk among us.

tirionprofile2Okay. So we’ll put you down for “several scars but no particular stories”–

I beg to differ, good sir! No stories? No stories indeed! Ah, you have a fine sense of humor about you, and, rest assured, I appreciate your kind effort to spare an old man the need to delve into memories that, I suspect, you fear may be too painful to recount. Rest assured, though, my friend, after the horrors I have beheld in my day, a mere jaunt down the dusty halls of memory shall offer no such deterrent! A tale you requested, my good fellow, and so a tale you shall have!

Oh no…

Ah, it was a dark time, my friend. Dark indeed, and perilous, though I suspect I need not remind you — all too well do all remember the shadow that stretched its hand across two worlds, in the days of the Second War. When the demons’ poison coursed through the veins of the orcs — even those of my dear friend Eitrigg, as honorable a man as ever I might hope to know — whose acquaintance, perhaps, we share, my friend? but again I digress — yes, when the demons’ curse poisoned the orcish race and set them on their ill-fated rampage across their world and ours, when the Horde of old twice swept across Lordaeron, laying waste to all they met. We fought them, my friend; we nearly fell, on more occasions than one, as we struggled to hold them back, until finally we drove them back to their stronghold at Blackrock Mountain, and there, on the mountainside, we matched blades with our enemy one final time for the fate of our world.

I was there, my friend. I fought at Blackrock Spire, and saw such sights as I dare not repeat — indeed, such horrors as I might pray to wipe clean from my own aging recollection. For such are the horrors of war, are they not? The loss of life, the suffering uncountable, the nightmares forever seeded. The waste. Would that we might never see its like again, my friend; we speak at times of the glory of battle, but one need only sample its acrid taste once to understand such glimmer only exists in the imaginings of those not forced into war’s midst.

Right, so, war is bad.

Bad! Bad, you say, sir? Such understatement! I should hope a scholar of such obvious attainment should command words more fitting, for hardly does “bad” even suffice! And yet, sir — yet! — I would not wish words further from you, lest they should conjure more acutely recollection of such evils in their fullest form! For surely, all who partook in those dark days, those grisly hours of battle, spent many a year thereafter scarcely able to sleep soundly, for all the restless nights that dreadful dreams must have forced upon them. Even I, who was no stranger to battle even ere those times, was not immune to such things, and recall uneasily the weeks and months that followed, left alone to grapple with the haunting knowledge of what I had beheld.

Well, I don’t want to bring up bad memories for you, so–

The sky was angry that day, my friend! Angry and dark, overcast with portentous clouds, the air heavy with mist and dank with the stench of carnage.

Or not. Okay.

For hours — so many countless, unrelenting hours, my friend — we battled on the slopes of Blackrock Mountain, clawing our way, inch by inch, ever closer to the enemy’s stronghold. Do I say hours? They seemed as days, or weeks; nay, time itself lost near all meaning as the toil of battle weighed down upon us. And yet we did not tire, sir! Despite the wounds and blows, despite the ever-mounting aching of limbs taxed far beyond their limits, even still we pressed on, fought on, for we knew all too well what hung in the balance!

As the dark cloud gathered overhead, we marched upon Blackrock and fought our way past wave upon wave of enemy troops. There with us fought the great Alexandros Mograine, eventual bearer of the Ashbringer, the holy blade which even now I wield in his memory and honor — would that he were still with us, my friend, and not felled in the years that would follow by the vilest act of treachery. But that is a story for another day, sir — indeed, for another day, and you shall not sway me to digress from the tale at hand! Try though you might, you shall not delay me from the true object of my narrative!

Trust me, I won’t try.

As well you should not, my friend! For it is your very question that set me on this path, and you shall now lead me astray before I have forged on to a proper answer! I owe you no less, as my honored guest!

Now where was I? Oh yes!

While Alexandros rallied our troops to buttress our western flank, he briefly dropped his guard and left his back vulnerable to the attack of a charging ogre. Before the vile creature could land his blow, however, I interceded, blindsiding the ogre in turn and felling him with a piercing strike through the back of his neck. The ogre collapsed to the ground, and Alexandros and I exchanged words of camaraderie as he rode off to resume his efforts at the flank — but as he departed, and I called forth some few final words of encouragement, I found myself falling prey to the self-same error that nearly claimed the life of my friend. For I, as well, had failed to maintain proper vigilance, and a second ogre — perhaps a friend of the one whose life even still bled forth onto the field of battle — bore down upon me from behind. Surely, though, the Light was watching over me, as the ogre landed a blow that wounded but did not kill: his bulky club caught my back, just at the shoulder, with one spike digging deep into flesh. I managed to gather myself and engage my monstrous attacker, and with no small difficulty, smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Nevertheless, his blow had left its mark; my left shoulder carries a deep scar even to this day, and now and again, even to this day, I occasionally feel the lingering effect of the injury, as two fingers of that hand will sometimes lose sensation. A small price to pay, nevertheless, for the safety of our people, our homes — one that I would gladly pay again, with interest, should circumstance ever demand it.

Okay. Well, I think that covers everything…

Indeed, my friend? But surely there was more you wished to ask. Why, even now I see you still have several pages of your notes right there — questions, doubtless, for our continued interview. Hardly would I rush you through your efforts, or, worse still, force you to curtail the inquiries you’ve traveled so far to pursue! We shall have no such incivility here, good sir! I would never forgive myself such a misstep.

No, that’s really okay. Those notes are for something else.

Ah, I see — forever juggling projects, isn’t it just the way, my friend? The burdens of necessity, no doubt; I know myself that I can scarcely find the time to give my many varied tasks the time they’re due — oftentimes I’ve scarcely completed dictating my daily correspondence when it seems at though the whole of the day has begun to slip away. Ah, world enough and time!

Right. So… do you happen to know where Daria went? I think she said something about getting a drink at a tavern.

 

Previous Profiles:

  1. Spazzle Fizzletrinket
  2. Ben-Lin Cloudstrider
  3. Dontrag and Utvoch
  4. Taktani
  5. Korrina
  6. Mylune
  7. Mokvar
  8. Ruekie

 

daria_tavern1

Daria’s Pro Tip for Dealing with Tirion #3: Beer is your friend. It’s your very, very best friend.

 

 

Keep your friends close

orgrimmar21

So I guess Spazzle already filled you guys in on the Gurtash thing. No new developments on that front so far. The healers say that the kid’s either going to come around on his own, or not come around at all, which personally I think is a big huge CYA measure on their part, but they’re the healers and I’m not so I guess I might as well give it a few more days before I start smacking people around.

In other news, I’m making some changes to Shayari’s mage training plan. She’s still going to be studying with Faranell over in the Undercity, but I decided that there wasn’t much need for her to LIVE over there permanently. For one, she IS a mage, so she can just teleport over where when she has lessons, and besides, based on recent experience…I mean…good fucking luck getting her to STAY there if she’s gotten it into her head that she doesn’t want to. It’s just easier this way.

So in related news, when I got in touch with Faranell about the revised plan for Shay, he decided it was a good time to hit me up with the estimate for whatever the hell he needs to have done to his jaw after Shay clocked him, or whatever the fuck happened. Then, as if all of this hadn’t put me in a great enough mood already, it just so happened that THAT’s the moment when the bill for that shopping trip Liadrin took Shay on came in, and HOLY FUCKING SHIT ARE YOU KIDDING ME. That hyacinth macaw of hers better fucking well shit GOLD, is all I’m saying. Are kids ALWAYS this expensive?! Fucking hell, this is going to clear out the bank in no time flat at this rate. Nice job, doeling. Yeesh.

Anyhow. In OTHER other news, now that Mokvar’s mostly accounted for himself, it’s time he got back on the job and made himself useful. Which as you can imagine made everyone in the war room pleased as punch. And by “punch” I mean “panda punching Varian in the fucking face”…

fyv

Because some shit just never gets old. Heh. Hehehehe…

Anyway. Yeah. Smiles all around for Mokvar’s return to Grommash Hold.

 

MALKOROK: Sir! With all due respect, you can’t be serious!

EITRIGG: You’re lifting the banishment?!

MALKOROK: You can’t possibly intend to allow this…this treasonous dog back into your council chamber!

MOKVAR: Uh, yeah, nice to see you guys, too.

EITRIGG: Garrosh, I don’t understand. After everything that happened with Mokvar, after his conspiring with Magatha, for spirits’ sake—

GARROSH: Look, I understand why you banished him while I was away, Eitrigg. I’m not lifting it now because it was the wrong call at the time. If I’d been here, I probably would have done the same thing myself.

EITRIGG: Then why, Garrosh?

MALKOROK: I’m not usually inclined to agree with the old man, Warchief, but once he’s right. Why would you restore this—

GARROSH: BECAUSE, you two, Mokvar’s managed to account for himself to my satisfaction, and—

MALKOROK: Sir, whatever lies this traitor has told you—

GARROSH: Are MINE to judge, Malkorok, not yours. I believe he’s telling me the truth.

Garrosh looks over at Mokvar, then back to Malkorok.

Enough of it, at least. Besides…I have good reason to believe that Mokvar has access to…certain resources that could be of great tactical benefit to us.

EITRIGG: Warchief…?

MALKOROK: I find it hard to believe he possesses anything that our forces—

GARROSH: You remember the Divine Bell, Malk? What a smashing success that whole grand finale was? Suffice to say, during his reintroduction to the warlock world, Mokvar found something that could have swung that whole fiasco in our favor.

Eitrigg slumps back in his chair uncomfortably. While Malkorok and Garrosh continue, Taktani bounces into the room, with Shayari following behind.

MALKOROK: Assuming he’s not making up the entire st—

GARROSH: <pointing back at his throne> DO YOU WANT TO SIT IN THIS CHAIR?

TAKTANI: <hopping onto the throne happily> Oooh, I do, Mr. Warchief! Yay! It looks comfy!

Garrosh looks back at Taktani, rubs his forehead, then turns back to Malkorok (who suddenly looks much more exhausted than he did just a moment ago).

GARROSH: Look, Malk. I’ve made my decision. And if you don’t think it’s the right one, then guess what? I’ve still made my decision, and I don’t want to hear any more about it. Mokvar’s banishment is lifted, and I’m reinstating him to scribe duties.

TAKTANI: <sprawling back on the throne and waving one paw around> I’m the Warchief-chief! Yay! Lemon squares or death! Hee hee!

GARROSH: Besides, would you really rather have HER staying on indefinitely?

MALKOROK: You…may have a point, sir.

TAKTANI: Aww don’t be grumpy, Mr. Malky! No grumpies allowed! <waving her paw around more> Off with his head! Tee hee!

GARROSH: TAK.

TAKTANI: Ooh! Okay! Right, Mr. Warchief, sir!

Taktani hops off the throne and bounces over to the council table.

GARROSH: Mokvar, this is Taktani. She’s been filling in for you while you’ve been away. Well, splitting time with… Uh, anyway, she’s been filling in as a scribe.

TAKTANI: <bouncing up onto the council table and leaning in close to Mokvar> Hiiiiii Mr. Mokvar! It’s nice to meet you!

GARROSH: She used to write in to the blog before you went AWOL, remember?

TAKTANI: I’ve heard so much about you, Mr. Mok-Mok! I’m sure the nice things are true!

MOKVAR: I— wait, you mean she’s real?

MALKOROK: Unfortunately.

TAKTANI: You’re so grumpy, Mr. Malky! I bet you just need a big hug!

MALKOROK: Don’t you dare even think of—

TAKTANI: Again!

MALKOROK: Warchief!

GARROSH: Rein it in, Tak.

MOKVAR: Okay, you know, she’s a little hyper for my tastes, but I think she’s starting to grow on me all the same.

SHAYARI: Chuckles really does bring out the best in people, doesn’t he?

GARROSH: Huh— oh, hey, Shay.

SHAYARI: Hey. <scanning the table> Hey, Beardy. Chuckles. Other Old Guy I Don’t Know.

GARROSH: Oh, yeah, you never met Eitrigg, did you?

SHAYARI: I think you mentioned him to me. But yeah.

GARROSH: He’s Ariok’s old man, if that helps any.

SHAYARI: Ohh, okay. So you’re kind of Grayscale Senior. I guess that makes you…what, sepia, sort of?

EITRIGG: …Warchief?

GARROSH: <sighs> Yeah, okay. So. Eitrigg, this is Shayari. She’s…my daughter.

Eitrigg stares blankly for a full minute.

TAKTANI: Mr. Warchief? Is Mr. Eatery okay?

GARROSH: Eitrigg?

EITRIGG: <blinks> I… I’m sorry, Garrosh. I think my brain might have just stroked off there for a moment. Did you just say…?

GARROSH: She’s my daughter. Yeah.

MALKOROK: Supposedly.

SHAYARI: I know, Chuckles, I’m too good for a lot of people to believe.

EITRIGG: <gesturing bewilderedly toward Shayari> But… but Warchief… how…?

GARROSH: Dude, do I really have to work it out for you?

SHAYARI: #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh, am I right?

EITRIGG: I…oh…well… <gathers himself, turns to Shayari> It’s a pleasure, Miss Shayari.

SHAYARI: Thanks, Grampa Sepia. Oh, and if your boy mentions anything about livestock, I don’t know anything about it.

MALKOROK: Warchief, is there a reason why your…offspring is barging in on our meeting?

TAKTANI: Aw, Mr. Malky, why can’t you be friendly? You should smile more!

MALKOROK: That’s enough from you, druid!

MOKVAR: Yeah. I definitely think I’m starting to like her.

SHAYARI: Oh, don’t sweat it, Tak. Guy Smiley here’s just pissy ’cause I’m a walking, talking reminder that Pops has gotten laid more recently than him.

TAKTANI: Huh?

MALKOROK: Draenei, I—

GARROSH: Malk, zip it.

MOKVAR: And I know I’m starting to like her.

GARROSH: Come to think of it, though, what ARE you doing here, Shay?

SHAYARI: I’m just checking to see how long Tak’s going to be busy with the meeting.

GARROSH: Uh, not long. It’s going to be a pretty short one today. Why?

SHAYARI: Nothing huge. When she’s done, I was going to port us up to Silvermoon to do some shopping. I can kill a little time, though. I’ll just be over at Kodohide’s, ’kay, Tak? I can check out the leather jackets while you do your thing.

TAKTANI: Okay! I’ll come find you!

GARROSH: Hang on – SHOPPING? We just moved like five huge cases of yours back from the Undercity. Don’t you have ENOUGH stuff?

SHAYARI: <walking toward the door> That’s cute, Pops. “Enough stuff.” You’re adorable. Later, Tak! Oh, and Chuckles?

Malkorok looks up.

Don’t forget: being a walking bag of hyena urine is something most people couldn’t carry off, but you, sir…are no exception. Toodles!

Shayari exits.

GARROSH: <rubbing his forehead> I can already tell I’m going to have to start making withdrawals from the bank, aren’t I…

MOKVAR: You know what? I’m going to skip right past “like” and say I’m starting to love her.

EITRIGG: She does have a certain infectious charm.

GARROSH: Okay, so…

TAKTANI: Should I start scribing now, Mr. Warchief?

GARROSH: Ah. Well, no, Tak. See, you were filling in for Mokvar, and he’s back now, so he’s going to be taking over again.

TAKTANI: Oh…

Taktani looks back and forth between Garrosh and Mokvar.

You don’t want me to be your scribe anymore?

Taktani makes big, sad kitty eyes.

Did I do bad?

GARROSH: Oh geez.

MALKOROK: <rubbing his forehead> Merciful spirits….

GARROSH: Ugh… Look, Tak, you—

MOKVAR: Garrosh?

GARROSH: Hmm?

MOKVAR: You know, while I get reacclimated, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to let her stay on for a little while, just to make sure I don’t miss anything in my notes.

Taktani’s face lights up, and she turns to Garrosh hopefully.

GARROSH: Oh for… Yeah. Fine. Whatever. You’re already here, so you might as well stick around for today anyway.

TAKTANI: YAY!!

MALKOROK: <glaring at Mokvar> Scribe, what in hellfire are you doing?

Taktani hops gleefully into a chair next to Malkorok. Mokvar tilts his head to one side, watching her, then smirks at Malkorok.

GARROSH: Okay…so, getting down to actual business, finally.

TAKTANI: Yay!

GARROSH: TAK.

TAKTANI: Oops! Sorry, Mr. Warchief sir!

Taktani makes an exaggerated zipping movement in front of her mouth, then stifles a giggle.

GARROSH: So. Moving on.

MALKOROK: Warchief, with your approval, I’d like to add a few additional patrols around the read gate.

GARROSH: Is there a problem?

MALKOROK: Just a precaution. I’ve gotten reports of some minor oddities around the Valley of Honor. I’d just like to make sure there isn’t anything to be concerned about.

GARROSH: Fine. Do what you need to do.

MALKOROK: Yes, sir.

GARROSH: Now for more important business. Mokvar, what’s our next step on your sha project?

EITRIGG: Garrosh…

MOKVAR: I’ll need to see some of these sha in person. This isn’t going to be exactly the same as dominating demons, so I’ll need to start small and work out the bugs.

GARROSH: Fine. I’ll be heading back to Pandaria in a couple weeks. You’ll come with me, and we’ll take it from there.

EITRIGG: Garrosh, I don’t like the sound of dabbling further with these sha—

GARROSH: Your objections are noted and inconsequential.

MOKVAR: That should work out. I have a few things I wanted to check on in Pandaria anyway.

GARROSH: In the meantime, I want you to check in with a few people as well, on a couple different fronts.

MOKVAR: What’s that?

GARROSH: For one, I want you to go see Overseer Elaglo. He and Xorenth are working on a few things down in Ragefire Chasm that I think you might be able to help with.

MOKVAR: Okay. What are they working on?

GARROSH: They’ll fill you in when you get down there. And while you’re down that way, I want you to touch base with Neeru Fireblade in the Cleft of Shadow.

MOKVAR: Uh… you want me to… why?

GARROSH: Because given what went down with him before you starting going all off-hinge, I think he’d be pretty damn interested in the fact that you’ve got yourself a new toy.

MOKVAR: Well, yeah, I’m sure he would, but I was figuring I’d probably be better off keeping CLEAR of him about that. Why even let him know I have the—

GARROSH: Because knowing will get his curiosity up. And you know what curiosity did to the cat.

Garrosh looks to a suddenly nervous-looking Taktani.

Not you, Tak.

Taktani lets out a relieved sigh while Garrosh turns back to Mokvar.

I doubt that he’s going to want to trust you, considering everything that’s gone on. But I’m betting curiosity about what you’ve been up to, and your shiny new doodad in particular, is going to be too much for him to resist. So I want you to dangle it in front of him, and see if you can get in good with him.

MOKVAR: <nodding slowly> And then I report back to you.

GARROSH: And then you report back to me. We know Neeru’s up to something, but so far he’s been careful. But YOU…well, what you bring to the table might mean just enough for his demonic interests to bring him out. I know we can’t trust him, so I want someone keeping him close.

MOKVAR: Got it. I’ll do what I can. When should I head over?

GARROSH: No time like the present. You might as well head over. I already told Elaglo and Xorenth you’d be by sometime today.

MOKVAR: Okay, chief. I’ll get the records written up and posted for you later today.

GARROSH: Yeah, that’s fine.

Mokvar gathers up his documents and walks toward the door.

<talking over one shoulder without turning around> And Mokvar.

Mokvar stops in the doorway and looks back.

It’s good to have you back.

 

Mokvar hasn’t gotten back from the Cleft of Shadow yet, but when he does, hopefully there’ll be some good news. In the meantime, I’m going to talk to Spazzle about putting some filters on the blog. Some posts, at least. It’s good having these records here, but we’re going to want to start limiting who can see certain information. You guys are all cool, don’t worry. But some of this stuff…yeah, we’re going to need to be a little more careful. Especially if things start lining up like I think.

More soon.

 

ADDENDUM FROM TAKTANI’S NOTES:

(Mr. Mokvar left.)

MALKOROK – Warchief, I still object to you trusting that scribe after his treasonous conduct. Especially with these kinds of sensitive matters.

GARROSH – Malk, do you not listen to any fucking thing that I say?

MALKOROK – Warchief?

GARROSH – Did you miss what I told him about keeping someone who can’t be trusted close, so we can keep an eye on him?

MALKOROK – No, sir, I heard you, but—

GARROSH – Did you think I was only talking about Fireblade?

(Malkorok became still a moment, thinking, then gave a slow nod.)

MALKOROK – Yes, sir. I think I understand. I…wouldn’t have thought of that, sir.

GARROSH(nodding back) That’s why I’m in charge.

 

The Horde is family (part 3)

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Picking up where we left off last time

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* Ariok started asking Spazzle about his father, Eitrigg (who’s been more and more on the outs with Garrosh lately, such as here), before Mokvar turned up and…you know…started telling his life story.

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* After Ji took off in search for Mokvar against Garrosh’s objections, Spazzle had this conversation with Vol’jin here.

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NEXT:  WAKE-UP CALL

 

The enemy of my enemy

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* Garona intervened to protect Mokvar when he was being attacked by spectral assassins here, after his meeting with Neeru Fireblade.

** Mokvar had this exchange with Deliana on the way out of Onyxia’s lair, having just struck his deal with Magatha Grimtotem.

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* Spazzle reported on Mokvar’s rather tense debriefing with Eitrigg here.

** After Mokvar broke arrest and fled Orgrimmar with Deliana, he arranged to meet with Spazzle in Everlook. Spazzle detailed their meeting in Winterspring here.

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Collateral damage

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* In Garrosh’s absence, Mokvar convinced Eitrigg to grant him diplomatic cover to travel to Ironforge.

** Theldren was one of the last surviving members of the Veiled Blade mercenary company, along with Mokvar and Deliana. When Theldren appeared in Ironforge, after having fled Blackrock Mountain, Deliana ventured to Orgrimmar to inform Mokvar.

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* Word reached Orgrimmar that Mokvar had been charged with Theldren’s murder here.