Tag Archives: grommash
Monday mailbag
So not only have I not really done a decent mailbag in a while (the last one really opened up a pretty big can of worms, to be fair), but in light of recent events, I actually have a pretty serious influx of stuff to respond to. Let’s get right to the mail…
In light of everything you’ve been going through, I decided to take a trip to Demon Fall Canyon to pay my respects to Grom and Lakkara both. I’ve included a picture of myself at Grom’s monument below. Also, while you were traveling to Nagrand this week, I took the liberty of writing a post on the blog to encourage your readers to do the same. Hopefully they’ll follow my lead and send you some photographic proof that we’re all behind you, and thinking of you while you deal with everything that’s happened.
If you ever need anything,
–Spazzle Fizzletrinket, Orgrimmar
Thanks, Spazzle. Much appreciated. As it turns out, a bunch of other people did follow your lead, and my inbox ended up sort of flooded with e-mails and links from people chronicling their own visits. Here’s a smattering from folks who didn’t include an actual letter:
And a bunch here that Leit over at int i; posted as part of a full blog entry on the…well…pilgrimages, I guess, that Spazzle set off:
Condolences on the … recent disturbing events. It’s hard enough to lose a parent once, let alone twice. Know that the Horde grieves with you.
In other news, guess who I ran into the other day? None other than Faranell, the “new guy” in your guild. One of your Kor’kron guards has developed a rather innovative method for controlling the pace of Faranell’s research. He occasionally punts an abomination’s head into the sewers.
That’s Faranell in the middle, and Overseer Kraggosh on the right. He seems to be doing a fine job.
And lastly, Bowling for Wildhammer. You should try it.
(And yes, that’s an atypical hairstyle for one of us. I learned long ago that long, flowing locks and high-torque power shafts DO NOT play well together.)
–A Concerned Citizen
Hey ACC, good to hear from you, and thanks for the show of support. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, but I’ll manage. Granted, I’ll sleep a lot better once ol’ You-Know-Who is finally captured and properly dismembered.
Speaking of dissected bodies, thanks as well for checking in on things in the Undercity. Did you happen to see any signs of Koltira Deathweaver while you were down there, by the way? Haven’t heard from him in months, and last anybody heard he was helping Sylvanas with some stuff out in the Plaguelands. Anyway…I’m sure the boys are keeping things under control down there. I’m still not totally sold on Bragor Bloodfist and the job he’s doing with the watching-Sylvanas-but-not-necessarily-in-the-right-way, but I’m sure Overseer Kraggosh is taking care of business. I actually gave him the Apothecarium assignment deliberately, in the hopes that maybe working down there could help grease the wheels on moving him up on the list of potential “donor” organ recipients. Not to jinx things, but the guy has a really bad family history, heart disease and such, to the point that most of the family pretty much treats it as a foregone conclusion. Want to know how bad it is? The name “Kraggosh”? Means “Heart of Cholesterol” in orcish. Yeah.
Also, Bowling for Wildhammer? You’ve got to fill me in on this one. Strangely enough, for all the meetings I’ve had with Zaela, somehow she never mentioned this little diversion in Twilight Highlands. Seriously, they’ve got some kind of blood sport out there called Bowling for Wildhammer, and she’s wasting my time trying to fucking push some damn SUSHI place on me over and over? The fuck?
Spazzle suggested we attempt to cheer you up by sending you letters and pictures of us honoring your dearly departed father and mother. I kept trying to take decent shots, but my stupid pet kept ruining my pictures. The attached one is the best one I have with out any sort of shenanigans.
While I am writing I would like to ask you a question. Have you ever considered settling down and starting a family? I am from the Armripper clan who has made a good showing in all the conflicts. I am young but not too young. I was a part of the events in Northrend and was there to help kill the Litch King. I was also helpful in bringing down Deathwing and the Twilight Cult.
The only deal breaker for me is that I must be able to keep my full stable of pets near me (ie in the house at all times). I love my pets so much and would never be able to settle down with a man that did not respect that. I have 25 of them, mostly large felines of various colorings. Each one is precious to me.
Awaiting your reply,
–Toka Armripper
Oh great. We’ve got another one.
I actually think I remember you from Northrend, Toka, from when I joined the troops in Icecrown Citadel to deliver Hellscream’s Warsong. My memory’s a little fuzzy on one point, though — you weren’t on of those fuckers who had a problem with the Warsong and wanted me to stop singing, were you? Because I’ll tell you in no uncertain terms, I have an enchanting singing voice, I don’t care what any of you people say.
I’m also totally fine with the pet thing. I mean, 25 cats is maybe a bit much, especially since you say you’re young, seeing as the Crazy Cat Lady thing usually doesn’t start kicking in until middle age at the earliest. (Also, that thing you said about being “young, but not too young”? Is this your way of telling me that you’re, you know, legal? Because assuming we’re talking over 18 here, “too young”? Ain’t no such thing. If there’s grass on the field, play ball.) But I get the appeal of pets — obviously I’m pretty attached to Mortimer, and he would definitely be a dealbreaker for me too, and I also have my worg Malak, who doesn’t get as much press as Mortimer does but also isn’t negotiable. So I get it.
That said, gotta be honest, I haven’t really given a whole lot of thought to settling down any time soon. For one thing, I have way too many things to focus on that are a lot bigger than just me. I have a war to win and humans to exterminate and the glorious future of an Azeroth-dominating Horde to secure, and my time and energy is going to be a lot better spent on that stuff than running around filling out a gift registry (which by the way, am I the only one who thinks that’s a fucking tacky idea in the first place? “Hey, here’s a list of the stuff we want you to buy us, because getting married all of sudden means we get to act like we’re 10 years old and everyone we know is Greatfather fucking Winter”) and getting measured for a tux. Which, also by the way, I don’t do bow ties. Chafe my neck something awful.
But even beyond that, have you SEEN Thrall since he got married? Look, I didn’t always agree with him, but even I wouldn’t hesitate to admit the guy was a badass. Now? Have you seen how he lets Aggra lead him around by the nose? I mean hell, even when he was busy fighting Deathwing, there he was, him and the Aspects and a collection of some of the Horde’s greatest champions, and they narrowly pull off this nail-biter victory that saves the world, and right in their moment of glory and triumph who just SHOWS THE FUCK UP like she OWNS the place? Yeah. Aggra. No thanks.
Besides, why would I want to settle down? Let’s be honest here — there’s a reason why I’ve ended up having to replace my bed upstairs in Grommash Hold 37 times since I took over as Warchief, and believe you me, it ain’t faulty craftsmanship.
Thunderlord Stronghold
While I’m here in Outland, I figured I would make a few stops and see what’s been going on out here since I left for Azeroth. Today I flew up to Thunderlord Stronghold in Blade’s Edge Mountains today and paid a visit to Rexxar. I knew Rexxar mostly by reputation before he moved out here years ago, and we ended up meeting briefly a couple times before I wound up making the move to Azeroth to take charge of the Northrend campaign. He remembered me well enough, although it would be nice if I could maybe meet him at some point and have him refer to me some way other than “Oh yeah, Grom’s kid.”
I tried floating the idea of him coming back to Orgrimmar with me and taking a position as an advisor, but he wasn’t interested in leaving Blade’s Edge or getting himself tangled up in politics. Can’t really blame him on that one. I think he told Thrall the same once before, which I can respect, although it’s kind of a waste for as big a badass as him to just be hanging out here in the middle of nowhere.
Mostly, though, we ended up talking animals. Pretty much as soon as I got there, Rexxar’s bear Misha took a liking to Mortimer, and the two of them spent most of the day chasing each other around playing. Which got Rexxar and I talking about them, and if you know people who have pets – or are one yourself – you know what happens when you get two pet people together. Worse than people with kids…not least of all because people who have kids don’t really give a shit about what the other people have to say about theirs. They mostly just nod politely until it’s their turn to talk about their own little snot-nose. Pet people, though, they just eat up each other’s stories, and they’ll yammer on all day if you let them. Poor Gor’drek and Nekthar made themselves pretty scarce pretty fast.
Funny story, though – turns out, while Rexxar was still living in Kalimdor and wandering around in Feralas and Desolace, somehow or other he ran into that forest nymph Mylune. Which is never a good thing when you’re traveling with a furry animal. So…I’m sure you can fill in this part…she right off started getting all grabby and huggy with Misha. But here’s where it gets great – Misha would have none of that shit, and after she went and ignored a “You might not want to do that” from Rexxar, the bear fucking MAULED her. HAH! So we had a good old time comparing fail-notes on that nutjob.
Also talked a little to Tor’chunk Twoclaws (yeah, that really is the dude’s name, and yeah, I feel for him too) (*chortle*), who tells me the ogre troubles they used to have up there have quieted down a lot the last couple years. Seeing as we always had all kinds of headaches with the ogres down in Nagrand, I’m always kind of interested in how people in other areas have been getting on with the fat fuckers. According to Tor’chunk (honestly, not trying to be mean, but I just can’t get past that name), the Bladespire ogres up there recognized a new king a ways back – something about someone gaining the blessing of Ogri’la, which the Bladespires talk about like some mysterious, mystical place even though it’s right there on the fucking maps. Since then they seem to have calmed down a lot. I’m kind of curious about this, to tell you the truth, so I might have to swing by and introduce myself to this new king guy, one leader to another. Because I’m nothing if not a smooth diplomat.
[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!]
Spazzle Speaks: Mailbag Request
Hey, what’s up?
Spazzle here again. Just wanted to chime in and give everybody an update, and also make a request. Garrosh has been getting back to normal again the last few days. (Well, about as normal as things get for him.) (I probably should have known better than to say that. He does read this sometimes.) But he’s still taking everything pretty hard. I can’t really blame him; I can’t imagine what it must be like to find your long-lost mom again, then lose her, then… <sigh> Anyway, he left last night to go back to Nagrand for a few days. He’s staying in contact with us here in Orgrimmar, but some time out there will probably do him good.
I have a request for everybody for when he gets back again. Garrosh has been so busy dealing with everything else lately that he really hasn’t had much of a chance to check on his mail. I think maybe having some letters to respond to might help him get his mind off of everything else that’s been going on, and let him get back in a more comfortable space. So if you guys could be sending him some mail, maybe a few random Warchief-ish questions like the old days, I think it might do him some good.
Or, maybe even better, you could take a different approach to helping him via the mail. Maybe a show of solidarity. If you happen to find yourself near Demon Fall Canyon in Ashenvale, or the Ancestral Grounds in Nagrand, maybe take a minute to stop and pay your respects? To Grom, or Lakkara, or both…and Garrosh by extension. If you include a picture of yourself there in your note to the Warchief, that could be nice for him to see, to know he’s not going it alone. Maybe even toss the picture up on your own blog if you have one, since I know Garrosh reads around quite a bit, even if he usually stays a lurker.
If you ever need anything,
Spazzle
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.
When a good orc goes to war
Here’s an ugly fact: If you’ve spent enough time in battle – past the point where you get the rookie jitters, straight through to that point where the sight of blood doesn’t phase you anymore – you start to be able to hear the difference between types of blows. The flesh wounds, the cleaving slices, the glancing cuts, the deep hacks that hit bone…eventually you know just from the sound when a blow’s been landed that no garden variety mortal is going to walk away from.
Eventually you know that sound. You never mistake it.
I was hearing that sound a lot when my mother and I first arrived in Demon Fall Canyon. Like always, the place was crawling with lesser demons…droves of these piddly weak-ass infernals and succubi and felguards. When I came here once before, I mostly made my way around them – the pansy-ass fuckers were at least bright enough not to want anything to do with me – but this time I didn’t have much interest in sneaking around. So, we left a nice wide trail of chopped-up demons all the way to Grom’s monument.
I kept my distance and let Lakkara go up to the monument by herself. She knelt down next to it and read Thrall’s plaque, then cried for a while. When she finally composed herself again, she started talking quietly. I didn’t really try to listen in, only picked up little bits and pieces. Something about doing what she had to do to keep their son safe and untainted…that she was happy he found his way back, like she’d always hoped he would. That she wished she could have been there beside him at the end.
I didn’t go near the monument. I didn’t want to disturb her.
I was mostly off in my own thoughts and didn’t notice the rustling in the surrounding bushes until it was too late. Something hit me from behind – I couldn’t see right away – and then a voice from one of the nearby cliffs called out to me by name, and yelled something about me being a shortsighted fool, and I would lead the Horde to ruin because I wasn’t willing to make the tough choices. Monologuing away, true to bad guy form, which of course just gave me time to get my wits about me and see who it was.
Guess who. “Former General” Grebo, up and kicking again. I swear, doesn’t anybody stay dead anymore? Other than the ones who deserve better?
Meanwhile, I’d also been able to size up who had jumped me. There were four humans, all dressed in black, who’d gotten in a few hits to disorient me before I knew what was happening. Now, though, I’d gotten my second wind and had Gorehowl out. And then there were three humans. And then there were two.
While I was making short work of Grebo’s human lackeys, Grebo himself leapt down from the cliff behind me. I just caught him landing out of the corner of my eye as I was spinning to cut down another one of the humans – they really DO drop easily – but I managed to put a little TOO much energy into my swing, spun more than I’d meant to on the follow-through, and turned my back to Grebo as a result. Rookie mistake. I know better than that. And while I regained my footing, I could hear the footsteps running up behind me.
And then another set of footsteps. And a voice yelling “No!”
And then that sound.
Eventually…you know that sound. You never mistake it.
And then my mother’s voice crying out. And then nothing.
Lakkara collapsed to the ground. I turned and lunged at Grebo, but that final lackey of his managed to lock me up for a second. (Throwdown is considerably less fun when you’re on the other end of it.) Grebo must have realized that all of a sudden this wasn’t the day to try his luck, and started to take off. The couple of seconds I took separating the last human from his arms gave Grebo enough time to get a decent head start on me, and by the time I could close the gap at all, he was able to duck around a corner and disappear. Into a cave, or the shadows, or who knows where. Somehow he lost me and I wasn’t going to start wasting time chasing shadows.
I tried to hurry back to the monument as fast as I could, even though I knew deep down that time really wasn’t going to be an issue. When I got back, the armless human was laying in his heap, along with two of the others, but one of his friends was gone – maybe I was a little quick to assume I’d one-shot them all? There was blood on the ground where he fell, and more trailing along to a second bloody puddle where Lakkara had fallen. Only…no Lakkara.
I ran around Demon Fall Canyon like a lunatic, looking for bodies, blood, scraps of cloth. Tracks, as if I was a fucking hunter and would know how to follow them in the first place. Anything. All I could find was more of those damned weakling demons, and the ones that had the bad luck to be within arm’s reach found themselves swapped out for a pile of demon parts real quick. But no sign of my mother. No human. Nothing.
I’m back in Orgrimmar now. My head hasn’t stopped spinning. There isn’t one single part of this that makes sense, but I’m going to find out what’s going on, and how this happened. And someone’s going to pay.
[Header image provided by Angelya from Revive and Rejuvenate, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Memories of dreaming glory
Well, that’s settled. My mother is alive.
I’ve been staying here in Garadar the last few days. Luckily Spazzle’s gotten my why-fly (or whatever it’s called) connection working a little more reliably, so I’ve been able to keep up with the blog and post this week’s EPIC VERSE and all of that. As I mentioned the other day, Greatmother said Lakkara had gone out to visit the other Mag’har in Hellfire Peninsula, so I’ve been hanging out here to see if she would turn up again before I needed to get back to business in Orgrimmar. Luckily things have been quiet back home lately, so I figured there wouldn’t be anything Eitrigg couldn’t handle while I was away. Also, yeah, I’m not going to lie, I figured timing-wise this might let me stick Eitrigg with those end-of-month military expenditure reviews. Fuck I hate paperwork.
Anyway. It’s been good to spend some time back here, I suppose, although it’s also been giving Greatmother plenty of time to give me her nudge-nudge reminders about Kilrath having a daughter and how she wanted me to meet her and yeah, that’s just what I want, to get paired off with some girl my Greatmother picked out for me.
On the up side, I’ve gotten to spend some time hanging around with Jorin Deadeye, who used to pick on me like nobody’s business when we were kids, and didn’t get a whole lot better when we grew up. Everything with him was “Nice job your dad did dooming our people,” and “Damn, you’re a mopey, whiny little bitch” (and granted back in those days I WAS pretty emo, and I CAN’T IMAGINE WHY I WOULD HAVE BEEN KIND OF DOWN ON MYSELF AT THE TIME), and going around calling himself the “warchief” of the Bleeding Hollow clan instead of the chieftain. So I’ve been making a point of just hanging out wherever he’s been pretty regularly, and saying stuff to him like, “So hey, you like my axe? Yeah? Well check it, this is Gorehowl, the blade my dad used to FUCKING ONE-SHOT MANNOROTH and lift the blood haze from the orcs, how ’bout that, huh?” and “Hey, Chieftain, remind me, who’s actually Warchief these days? OH YEAH, SMALL WORLD!” Cue the comically appropriate Earth Online machinima:
Good times.
But anyway, back to the original point of the post. Earlier today, Lakkara turned up again. Greatmother called me up to her dwelling to see her. I have to admit, even though I knew that the smart thing was to stay skeptical until I could confirm who she was, it was pretty tough not to be shaken up by the first sight of her. I haven’t seen my mother since I was a little kid, but those last fumes of memory stay with you…and damned if she didn’t look just like my mother, with some extra wrinkles and gray hairs added on. Older for sure, weakened by the red pox and worn by a hard life, but damned if she didn’t look just like her.
I don’t think I was the only one who was shaken up some. As soon as I showed up, Lakkara became pretty emotional and teared up…it took her some time to pull herself together. Greatmother stepped outside so the two of us could have some time alone. Mostly at first I just let her talk. She pretty much repeated what she’d said in her letter, filled in a few more details here and there…I held back and tried to give her room to contradict herself, and listened the best I could for any holes in her story. Nothing I could see.
Then I played my ace in the hole. There was one time when I was a kid when I woke up burning up with fever from the pox. But the disease wasn’t the worst part. In my feverish sleep, I’d been having a nightmare – one of those awful, vivid dreams you wake up from and you’re still not sure if it was a dream, or real, or if you’ve really woken from it or if anything around you is real. You know the ones? Those dreams you have as a little kid where even when you wake up you’re still scared the dream will come get you? Yeah. One of those. I had woken up, and my mother came in and sat with me, and we stayed up most of the night talking about the nightmare I’d had and the nightmare we were living and everything else in between that we could think of.
I’ve never talked to anyone else about any of this.
She remembered every detail. Once I brought it up, she didn’t need any prompting. No leading questions. Nothing. She remembered the night I was talking about, everything we’d talked about. Most of all she remembered the dream – everything I’d told her, as if it had only been days ago rather than years. It had stayed with her as much as it had with me. She said my nightmare had stolen one night’s sleep from me, but dozens from her. She said I would understand one day when I had a child of my own.
That would have been enough to convince me, but to tell you the truth, by that point I was already being won over. Never mind what she looked like – she smelled just like my mother. There are scents that just always stay with you, you know? And for whatever reason I’ve always had a pretty sharp sense of smell. Not that that’s always been a positive thing in some parts of Orgrimmar, let me tell you. Anyway, though…the more time I spent around this woman, the more I noticed it – that smell I can’t really describe but would always recognize when she was close to me, like old parchment and dreaming glories. Like comfort. Like home.
It’s her.
I’m going to stay here with her for another day or two, then I’ll be getting set to bring her to see the orcs’ new home. Obviously she’s never been through the Dark Portal, and I’m kind of looking forward to showing her around Azeroth. I think she’s going to love Mulgore.
[Header image provided by Angelya from Revive and Rejuvenate, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Ode to Gorehowl
Yeah, I know I’m getting this one in a little late, but I had a busy day today. Endless glorious requisition forms with Eitrigg, which again begs the questions, with all my underlings why do I not have one whose job it is to handle the paperwork?
Anyway, here’s today’s entry for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge. Fill up those comments with ideas and themes and little nuggets of goodness to inspire me again, and we’ll have our next EPIC VERSE next Tuesday.
When I cast eyes upon the glinting steel
Of Gorehowl, gravest axe that e’er was made,
My thoughts return to Grommash’s ordeal
When Mannoroth fell to my father’s blade.
The greatest battle that the blade had known,
In Ashenvale where Demons Fall to fate:
Where Grom exchanged for all our lives, his own,
And plunged Gorehowl though thick infernal plate.
I wonder now if it is worthy held:
Since Grommash fell, the axe has many slain,
But greatest since that time Gorehowl has felled,
In place of bane of blood, ’tis sire of Baine.
I marvel it, and we, have come so far;
Yet fear it best had stayed with Malchezaar.
EPIC VERSE!
Monday mailbag
Before I get to the mail, I just wanted to mention the results are in for this latest round of You Choose the Next EPIC VERSE. I’m working on the latest masterpiece now and I’m going to try to have it posted this week, so stay tuned!
Now for the letters. Just a semi-quick mailbag this week, but a couple doozies…
About a month ago A Concerned Citizen wrote in to complain about the mistreatment of a Hippogryph he had received by post. Unfortunately, I don’t think this was an isolated incident — in fact, there may be a serious problem. Last week I received a similar crate in the mail. There were postmarks from at least 20 different places and it must have been in transit for weeks. The crate was emitting a terrible stench, but I braced myself and pryed it open anyway. As I feared, the poor wyvern was long deceased, its corpse in an advanced state of decay. It was the most appalling and enraging thing I have ever had the misfortune to see first hand. I cannot imagine the suffering of that poor creature as it was shunted from one place to another.
I stood stunned for a moment in shock and horror, (and was seriously considering joining DEHTA myself), when suddenly the most amazing thing happened — I felt something nuzzle my hand. I nearly jumped out of my skin! It was then that I realised there WAS something in that crate! A ghostly wyvern stood in the box, so translucent to be nearly invisible. Thing is, despite being incorporeal he can still interact with the physical world to some extent, so he can be petted, confined to a padlock, and even ridden just like a normal wyvern! I’m not sure how this is possible, but I think it might be because the poor beast doesn’t realise he’s dead. (For instance, he still likes me to feed him wyvern chow. He doesn’t actually consume it, but he makes eating motions around it and seems satisfied afterward. To save on gold I found a bunch of kibble-shaped rocks and put those in his dish and he doesn’t seem to have noticed the difference.) It’s taking a while to get used to flying around on a mount that is, for all practical intents and purposes, invisible. However, it sure is fun to watch all the jaws dropping as I fly by!
But the reason I write you, Warchief, is that I don’t think this is an isolated incident. Over the past week I’ve seen other people seemingly flying around without a mount. It’s hard to tell for sure, but I think people all over Azeroth are receiving deceased mounts in the mail. I even think I caught a glimpse of a spectral gryphon flying past me yesterday! I’m not sure what’s going on, but if members of both the Horde and the Alliance are getting dead mounts delivered to them, perhaps there has been a severe breakdown in our postal service worldwide! I know that wyverns have a place in your heart, so I thought you might want to look into this matter and perhaps prevent the further suffering of these noble creatures.
Respectfully yours,
–Kashina.
PS: I’m attaching a photo of my poor deceased wyvern. I hope he shows up well enough on that background.
This…just…wow. I mean I know I was never on particularly good terms with old Antlers McBeardyface, but even for him, this is just…yeah, that’s just sick.
What’s just as bad is that APPARENTLY our old friend Lather-on-us up in DEHTA-land couldn’t be bothered to do anything about this, even after ACC’s original letter last month, but spirits forbid I make a passing reference to browsing in a store for a leather jacket, cause then I get a dozen granola-crunchy druids picketing outside Grommash Hold and starting letter-writing campaigns and throwing buckets of fucking blood at me.
But yeah, enough is enough with this shit. I still can’t figure out how these people got it into their heads that sending mounts in the mail was any kind of good idea, but whatever. It’s time to start cracking down. So for starters, effective immediately, I’m going to start tightening up security in all our wyvern breeding grounds. Overlord Cliffwalker’s been doing a good job clamping down on the Grimtotem up in Stonetalon, so I’ll see about him assigning some more patrols for the wyverns nests there, and I’m pretty sure we can shift some troops over to Highperch in Thousand Needles now that the Twilight’s Hammer isn’t nearly so active down there.
Meanwhile, obviously if we mean business doing something about some brainstorm sending dead wyverns and gryphons C.O.D., I figure we’re going to need a point person to coordinate things. So, consider yourself volunteered, Kashina. I’m appointing you Commissioner of Stop Being a Complete Douche-Tard. Grats. And yes, Antlers, we’re talking to you.
Recently I was doing some errands for the Violet Eye – sweeping ghosts out of the ruins of Karazhan and suchlike – when I killed a big ol’ demon and discovered he had your axe in his pockets. Do you want it back? What’s Prince Malchezaar doing with Gorehowl anyway?
Regards,
–Elder Ciaroscuro (not a Lunar Festival Elder)
Hoo boy. Here we go again.
Yeah, if you could send that back here, Ciaroscuro (and by the way that was a BASTARD to type), that would be great. There’s been some really weird magical bullshit going on with that axe for a while. I’ll try to explain what I can.
So after my father Grom killed Mannoroth, and lost his own life in the process, the explosion that burst out of Mannoroth’s body sent the axe flying and embedded the blade into the nearby rocks. It got flung into the rocks with so much force that even Mr. OMG I’M SO AWESOME LOOK AT ME Thrall apparently couldn’t pull it out, either that or it didn’t even occur to him to look around for it, either then OR when he went back to put up Grom’s memorial, because I can’t think of a third option as to why Thrall would ever FUCKING EVER come back without Grom’s axe.
Some point later, Malchezaar came to Azeroth and turned up in Demon Fall Canyon. None of the other lesser demons there had ever been able to yank to axe out of the rocks, and they generally kept their distance, seeing as having the axe that killed their head honcho right there was probably kind of creepy. But, Malchezaar figured it would be a pretty good trophy for him to pick up for that very reason, and so after some doing he managed to yank it out of the stone. Apparently, by the way, he made a big deal about the fact that he was the one that managed to pull the axe out, and how that was an omen that he was destined for greatness and to be king of the demons and what-have-you, and by the way THAT’S when he started calling himself PRINCE Malchezaar, pretentious fucker.
So anyway, he heads off to Karazhan to take up shop. Only that top level of Karazhan where he hung out was in some weird kind of pocket dimension thingy, like the very top of the tower was poking into someplace called Netherspace, sort of dipping into the Twisted Nether but not quite, or some weird shit like that. I’m not too clear on the nuts and bolts of it. But, point is, it’s this strange little pocket of time and space where…well…time and space don’t quite work the normal way. And that’s where we get into the deal with Gorehowl.
So, Malchezaar had Gorehowl, right? And at some point some Horde adventurers went in there and handed him his ass, and got Gorehowl from his body, and somehow or other it found its way back to Thrall, who gave it to me. So far so good. But every so often, the freaky bizarro zone up there kicks in, and sets off some kind of a time loop. So all of a sudden, Mechazzar is up and kicking again, and he’s got Gorehowl back on him, and what do you know, poof, wherever Gorehowl WAS, it’s not there anymore. Because it got time-loop-reset back up to Prince Fancypants up there in Karazhan.
I once tried to ask Nozdormu how this whole time loopy thing could even be possible, and he rambled on at like 90 miles an hour, and just shrugged and said “wibbly wobbly, timey whimy” and looked at me like I just asked why water was wet. So no help there.
So anyway…yeah. Every so often, the axe goes poof on me, and I end up having to send a group up to Karazhan to get it back again. Which, let me tell you, is a huge pain in the ass. I’m just dreading the day when Malchezaar’s little time loop thingy resets while I’m actually in the MIDDLE of battle somewhere, and have my damn axe vanish on me mid-swing. I have to remember to start bringing a backup, actually.
On a completely separate note, I just got my first application for the new Earth Online guild, <Warchief>. Let’s have a look at our new aspiring member…
Character Name:
£õk†årøgâr
Class and Level:
Stock Broker
Talent Spec (please discuss any unusual talent choices):
0/0/41 Execution/Advisory/Discretionary Was execution but fuck that shit u gots no power and kill nothing. vry misleading name, discertionary do it all
What do you enjoy most about your class?
money money money buy the best toys and other class beg 4 help n buffs
Previous guilds and why you left:
Scum of the Earth, guild leader give his girl all the phat lootz n she like cant play so drama killed that one
Something Wicked, kicked from this one dunno why
High Finance, cant take a fkn joke. long story.
Previous raiding experience:
yes
Any time restrictions that might affect your raid availability:
i haveto be in bed by 11
Um…okay.
Actually, no, not okay.
First of all, I’m going to try not to dwell on the crazy letters in his name, but…yeah. Look, dude, you’re really overestimating how hard I’m willing to work to contact you in-game or send you a guild invite. If I can’t just fucking TYPE your name, then the odds of me sending you a whisper or an invite or whatever drops way, way down. I don’t speak alt-code.
Also…um…
You know what, I’m not even going to try to go through point for point and break down the problems with this guy. Not even the retard leet-speak. Reading it once had made my head hurt enough as it is. So I’m just going to make an executive decision and say, oops, sorry, turns out our raids all START at 11:00, so I guess that rules us out. Good luck in your search…um…Guy Whose Asshat Name I’m Not Even Going to Try to Transliterate.
Monday mailbag
I’m writing this from Brackenwall Village. (Thank goodness Spazzle set me up with some kind of why-fly doohicky that lets me still access the blog from out here, because believe you me, the ogres aren’t exactly pimped out when it comes to computer resources.) I’ve been in Dustwallow for a bit, but so far I haven’t had the chance to get working on the Grimtotem prisoner. Not long after I arrived, a Grimtotem raiding party attacked the village, so we were pretty busy fighting them off.
(Or, rather, most of the others here were pretty busy standing around watching in awe while I fought them off. Gotta admit, I do have kind of a thing for killing Grimtotem.)
Anyway, as you might imagine, that didn’t go so well for them. Still, it ate up a whole lot of time, and right now Dontrag and Utvoch are leading scouting parties to try to track down the survivors. Once they get back, and Krog and the ogres are done shoring up the defenses (we’re probably going to step up patrols just to be safe), we can get back to work.
In the meantime I figured I could take care of this week’s mailbag. Just a couple letters this week, but they’re pretty good ones. The first one, in fact, wasn’t even sent to me directly, but was posted online as a sort of open letter, and I thought it might be fitting for me to offer an open response. Here’s a short excerpt:
On behalf of myself and my co-workers Thathung and Grimful, I, Wabang, would like to announce that we are laying down our axes in peaceful protest, to formally ask you to give us back our former jobs as proud Orgrimmar Auctioneers.
I know when you became Warchief you thought you were doing us a favor by “freeing us” from what you called boring, tedious bookkeeper jobs. We could see how happy you were when you told us that we could finally don our armor and brandish our axes like the proud orc warriors we were, and not be stuck behind a desk any longer.
We appreciate the gesture, Warchief. We really do. It’s just that…well…we kind of liked being Auctioneers.
…
You may not realize this, but Thathung, Grimful and myself chose to be Auctioneers. We were not forced into it. We all carefully studied and honed our arithmetic to be able to perform an Auctioneer’s speedy calculations, and as you are no doubt aware, private tutoring by the Blood Elves is not cheap. Now that we have lost our jobs as Auctioneers, we can no longer afford to pay our outstanding debts, and the Grand Magister gets rather nasty/polymorphy when he is not paid.
This is just a small snippet of the original letter, which I’d really highly recommend everyone going and reading in full. In fact, go do that now. I’ll wait.
You done? Wait, no? The hell, dude? Go read it.
No, seriously.
I’m waiting.
…
Okay, that’s better. Now on with business.
And yeah, hoo boy, here we go. Look, Wabang, I understand that you’re not thrilled with the arrangement. To tell you the truth, I’m not so happy about it myself. That is, you’re right on the one hand – all things being equal, I’d rather have orcs like you and Thathung and Grimful fighting like the orcish soldiers that you are, and it DOES make sense to have the goblins tending to things like the auction house and the bank, what with them being a whole lot less useful on the battlefield. But I also hate to have you guys pushed out of the jobs that you liked.
I’m not going to try to hide behind it being some deal we cut. Sure, Thrall was the one who made arrangements with Gallywix to bring the Bilgewater Cartel into the Horde, but first of all, he didn’t make him any special promises as far as jobs or privileges the goblins would be getting, and second and more importantly, really, even if he did, I wouldn’t give two shits about pissing off Gallywix. It’s fucking GALLYWIX, for fuck’s sake – if anything the thought of annoying him is a bonus.
So here’s what it comes down to: right now in Orgrimmar, we’ve got way more people than we have jobs to keep them occupied. The sudden influx of goblins didn’t help matters. People like to give me grief over the slums that we’ve got in Orgrimmar right now, but contrary to what they might tell you, that wasn’t by design. It’s just reality – after the Cataclysm, frankly, we only had so many resources to do so much rebuilding, and some part of town was going to end up getting the short end of the stick. And when it came time to divvy up the areas, yeah, the least desirable part of town got left to the latest arrivals. Well, them and the trolls. But I don’t need to go on about them. (Side note: if the goblins and trolls are going to complain about their slum, have them take a look over in the Valley of Wisdom. Not my fault if the tauren in Thunder Bluff were willing to send their people extra resources to pretty the place up.)
But more to the point…here were the goblins, stuck in the low-rent district without much in the way of belongings, and pretty much no jobs to do. The one thing they’re good at collectively is business. So into the auction house and bank they went…thing is, though, those auctioneers aren’t really raking it in as much as you might think. Because they’re actually not working just for themselves. That was part of their contract, in fact. They’re actually in there working, pretty much, on behalf of the majority of the goblins over in the slums. Whatever they’re making is getting channeled back over to that part of town to keep the whole cartel stocked with whatever they need. And don’t think for a minute that it doesn’t pain the goblins to have to keep their heads above water through a system that you could pretty reasonably describe as “redistribution of wealth.”
And here’s the ugly truth of it, too, Wabang. The goblins as a group needed something. But just as important…you guys CAN do something else. Frankly, they can’t. So – as I’m sure you’ll appreciate given your training – it really just comes down to the math.
Here’s one other thing, too. While hiring the goblins to run the auction house makes sense in some ways, I have to admit I still don’t trust them entirely. Not least of all because of Gallywix, but I mean, also, come on, they’re goblins. (I don’t want to be getting any texts over that one, Spazzle.) And along those lines…I do think that you might have taken your assignment a little too much at face value. I mean…when I told you I wanted you to keep an eye on the auction house, Wabang, yeah, you were being assigned to stand guard…but like…I also want you to keep an eye on it, if you see what I mean. Because…you know…just sayin’…if someone were to catch the goblins doing something sketchy, skimming money off the top that they’re not supposed to, pulling a fast one on some of the higher-priced Firelands loot…well, believe you me, I wouldn’t be reluctant at all to reevaluate the current staffing situation.
Now, who would I put in charge of watching out for stuff like that? Spirits know I wouldn’t be able to catch something like that – have you seen the attic in Grommash Hold? I can barely keep my own junk organized. So what would we need to catch any shady business? Hmm, well, someone with an extensive mathematical background, a sharp financial mind, someone who already knows the ins and outs of a pretty complicated system so they can spot abuses and loopholes…but if I were going to give someone a job like that, I couldn’t be obvious about it. Say what you want about the goblins, but they’re not idiots. If I stick a bookkeeper right next to them and tell them they’re going to be having their every move watched, they’re sure as hell going to make sure that they either don’t do anything sketchy at all, or they go to MUCH greater lengths to keep it covered. So the way to do it would be to plant someone with the appropriate skills nearby, keep them in a position to keep a close watch, but in a role that would still make sense for them (say, I don’t know, an orcish grunt) in an assignment that would be justified (like, oh what the hell, an armed guard watching over a room full of valuables).
Just food for thought, Wabang. Hang in there and we’ll see what else we can do to help make life a little smoother for you guys.
During my tours of duty with the Horde Medical Corps, I have noticed some … puzzling behavior. Something just isn’t quite right with the Warsong Clan.
I understand what the Frostwolves are all about: kicking Dwarf butt from one end of the valley to the other, then showing them the exit. And I understand what the Defilers are up to: capturing resources for our use, and/or denying them to the Alliance. (Either one works.) I get what the Kor’Kron are doing on the Isle of Conquest. Most of our field armies have sensible, understandable goals.
Then, I arrive at Warsong Gulch.
I follow a couple of Horde soldiers, and we infiltrate the Sentinels’ stronghold. We make our way to the center, I’m thinking to take out their commander. But no, they snatch the flag, and bolt. We promptly retire to Warsong Hold, and then one of them taunts the Silverwing from our parapets.
It was about this time that I realized that the Silverwing were trying to do exactly the same thing to us.
No one was gathering resources, or preventing the enemy from doing the same. No one was trying to interfere with the enemy’s command and control. Seemingly, it was all about grabbing flags and talking smack.
Ordinarily I wouldn’t care. But now they’ve got the Dragonmaw doing it, too. Have they both gone nuts? Or am I missing something obvious?
–A Concerned Citizen
See, ACC, this is what happens when people totally lose sight of their history. The whole flag-capturing deal in Warsong Gulch actually did make sense once upon a time, but after a few years, and some serious turnover in the personnel there (on both sides, apparently), it seems like nobody remembers the point of it all. This is actually a classic case of what happens when people blindly go through the motions without bothering to learn the reasons why.
So, a teachable moment from Garrosh! Lucky you!
So okay. Once upon a time, when Grommash was chieftain of the Warsong Clan, and Horde and Alliance were both going balls-to-the-wall to try to gain control of Ashenvale and its resources, both sides would have regular air drops of supplies. Armaments, explosives, rations, everything. Sometimes even heavy equipment, as we started to become able to bring in zeppelins for supply runs. With the airships we have these days, I’m sure you can see the possibilities.
Anyway, though, if you’ve ever flown over Ashenvale, you also know how bloody impossible is can be to see where anything is down there. It’s nothing but dense forest as far as you can see in every direction (dense forest that’s been fucking dipped in glitter, no less), and even in the areas that have been cleared out, there’s still a lot of visual interference that would make it hard to target those air drops properly. So way back in the beginning, both sides would use flags to mark the drop sites for their couriers. One side or the other would have a spot marked, wyverns or hippogryphs would fly on in, spot the flag, drop the goods, boom. With all the back and forth between the two battling sides, too, the flag system just made more sense, because by the time the supplies were airborne, the battle lines could have shifted, one side or the other could have lost control of one of their bases…it just made sense as a way of signaling where a secure spot would be.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, someone had the bright idea that hey, if we could go steal one of the Silverwing’s flags, we could stop them from getting the supplies they need. What’s more, if we bring THEIR flag back over to an area that WE control, we could trick the Alliance couriers into delivering their supplies to US instead! So, double win! So from that point, the Warsong Outrunners would launch regular raids to try to steal the Silverwing flags. Eventually, the Silverwing caught on and started doing the same. At that point, it became a much bigger deal to keep control of our own flag, too – there’s not much benefit in stealing their flag to get their supplies, after all, if they’ve gotten our flag to steal OUR supplies, right? That’s just a wash. Hell, it might even be a loss – whose supplies do you think are going to be better, theirs or ours? Horde pride, bitches! Lok’tar!
So all of this actually made sense. But apparently, somewhere along the line, both sides started losing sight of the actual reason behind the strategy, and just started fixating on the flag-stealing thing. Which…is really kind of sad, when you think of it. I might have to look into assigning some new leadership up there, so our forces can actually have some remote fucking notion of what they’re doing again.
As for the Dragonmaw…you’ve got me. I might have to take this up with Warlord Zaela again. (Even money on whether she’ll use the occasion to start flirting with me again. Which I’m sure will set off a whole other mailbag.)
Monday mailbag
Yeah, I know, just barely sneaking this one in under the wire today, but here we go…
Apologies for the belated response. Last week was my on-call week in the Horde Medical Corps, and we had our hands full keeping those boozehounds off Drek’Thar’s lawn. Came out well, though; we had most of the Lok’Tar, they had most of the Ogar.
Unfortunately, that caused me to miss EarthCon. To answer your question, yes, AE is a hybrid spec. You can find it in the Mechanical Engineering tree, but you have to look. Basically, they’re the guys who build and operate everyone’s flying mounts in Earth Online. It’s a nice spec, with a few serious drawbacks. First, there aren’t very many raiding guilds that can really use it. Which leads to the second drawback: if you get booted from one raiding guild, it can take a while to find another one that’ll take you. I’ve done OK with it, but I’m not sure I’d recommend it. It’s kind of like goblin engineering that way, you should stay clear unless you have a burning desire for it (emphasis on “burning”). That said, the teaser trailer for the next patch looks pretty awesome:
For the rest … yeah, we snooze, we lose. Oh well. As I said, Lor’themar’s not a bad fellow, just mostly useless.
–A Concerned Citizen
Haha, I like that – “We had most of the Lok’Tar, they had most of the Ogar,” that’s a good one. I’ll have to use that sometime.
So the preview video looks pretty cool…also kind of funny how they obviously modeled that rocket on the one that the goblins out at Area 52 have been working on. See, that’s one thing I really enjoy about Earth Online, how they manage to work in all these little references to things in the real world.
I might have to look at the engineer class at some point. Right now I’ve mostly been bouncing between the veterinarian I rolled originally, and the teacher class I made a few weeks ago. I know, I know, it’s just going to take me longer to get to max level if I don’t stick with one toon, but whatever. Have to say the teacher class seems like a high-skill, high-reward kind of thing. Most of the time it just feels like this huge uphill battle, but every so often if you manage to play a sequence really well, you get this huge Charisma buff and can convert some of the student hostiles into minions. Come to think of it, that could be REALLY fun and handy if you could maneuver it just right, and get the buff with a student pack that’s not like the gobliny nerds, but had more of a predisposition toward mischief and violence. Then you could have a really useful bunch of minions! I might have to work on that, it could be fun to have a little army at my disposal…
Also, since you brought him up again, let’s try to keep an eye on Lor’themar just the same. Nice guy or not, there’s something about that guy that doesn’t sit well, and given how things went with the LAST blood elf leader, I’d just as soon be extra careful with him. Oh and also, if you happen to find any powerful ancient magical weapons, don’t show them off to him. Bad enough the arcane crackhead is hanging around the Sunwell these days, last thing we need is to dangle more magic candy in front of him.
Continued thanks for your ongoing good work in Stonetalon. Your efforts will not be forgotten. We will be in contact soon with further updates. Appropriate reimbursement will be forthcoming.
–MGT.
Wait, how did this end up in my e-mail? Grebo’s dead! I buried him right next to Krom’gar. Which is to say, I tossed both their bodies into the same gulch. Fuckers.
Anyway, though, I guess when he died they closed his e-mail account, so I guess maybe it got auto-forwarded to his commanding officer? But that would have been Krom’gar, and he’s…ah. So forwarded again. Fuck, does this mean I’m going to start getting spammed with all their crap? I guess I should print this out and send it to his widow, seems like he had some kind of business venture going on on the side. So on top of everything else he was stirring up in Stonetalon, he was moonlighting to boot. Awesome.
I was just eating a cupcake with the most delightful lemon icing and it made me think of you. Would you like to share the other half of it with me?
Your most devoted admirer,
–Wega
Wait, are you hitting on me? Because first of all, I’m not completely sure from your name if you’re a girl or not, and don’t get me wrong, but I’m not into dudes. Not that there’s anything wrong—wait, what am I saying, there’s TOTALLY something wrong with…never mind. (The Kor’kron lawyers are telling me I have to be more careful about saying stuff like that.) Anyway, second, if you ARE a girl, you’re just going to go making my other mailbag admirers like Uukra jealous. Although…that could have its benefits, too.
So actually, let me put it this way – LEMON SQUARES OR DEATH?
Greetings Garrosh,
Based on all the good things you’ve mentioned, being Warchief sounds like a pretty sweet deal. How does one go about getting the job? And hey, it’s been a while since you’ve treated us to your poetry, surely you’ve been working on something! Can we see?
–Ambitious Near Astranaar
Well, ANA, this is your lucky day. Two birds with one stone, cue the origin cut-away…
Now this is the story all about how
My life got flipped, turned upside down.
And I’d like for you to listen, you won’t be bored.
I’ll tell you how I became the Warchief of the Horde.
In downtown Garadar born and raised,
Fighting ogres is how I spent most of my days.
Fishing with Dranosh every afternoon,
And hunting with Nesingwary ’round Oshu’gun.
When a couple of guys who were flinging some mud
Said Grom hooked the orcs on drinking demon blood.
I spent a few years moping – Greatmother had sass,
She said, “I’m getting Thrall up in here to pull your head out your ass.”
The Warchief rolled in and he showed me the truth:
Mannoroth said “You’re mine,” Grom said “STFU!”
Thrall said, “Stop being emo, you’re gonna go far!”
And I thought yeah man, come on, take me to Orgrimmar!
I pulled up into Durotar, after Northrend I’d hit,
But that’s when all the elements went fucking apeshit.
Thrall went to check it out, that’s when I scored,
And I took up my throne, as Warchief of the Horde.
EPIC VERSE!
