Tag Archives: i need better minions
Tale of Two Morons
For this edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge, we revel in the Warchief’s endless satisfaction with the quality of his minions…
I yearn for that day, years ago,
When as a new Warchief I ventured afield
From outpost to outpost to know
How utterly we’d made Alliance troops yield:
Much less than I’d hoped;
For all that I scoped,
Our victory was far from sealed.
Admittedly, first I just moped
And wished I had minions more worthy to guide.
But okay. Fail minions. I coped.
And figured I might as well see the bright side.
When lemons are there,
You make lemon squares.
At least, you know, that’s what I tried.
I thought if I just got out there
And showed the fail minions how it should be done.
The sight of a badass with flair
Might get through some brick heads — perhaps everyone!
That plan wasn’t sound,
’Cause morons abound;
My suffering had just begun.
So in Ashenvale’s where I found
Two blathering morons I can’t tell apart.
Again in a cave underground —
“They’re totally USELESS!” was true from the start.
They’ve shadowed me since
To make my brain wince.
You know what? They’re not very smart.
I’ve longed for that day ever since,
A day before meeting them, maybe a week.
Perhaps even go back, convince
My past self, unknowing, what pain they would wreak,
Then get him to bolt
Away from those dolts
And out of the zone in a streak.
I’d bear any torment or jolt
For them once again to be dopes I don’t know.
No Legion or Darkspear Revolt
Could ever cause me even half as much woe.
But with them I’m stuck.
Unless I use FUCK-
ING TIME TRAVEL once more — yeah, no.
EPIC VERSE!
(Keep those opening lines coming! For anyone who missed last time, the Warchief invites everyone to offer opening lines for this year’s poetry month; Garrosh will pick as many as possible to use to open his EPIC VERSES. More soon!)
The Southshore Campaign
Garrosh just couldn’t seem to have any quiet time in Grommash Hold without some new task cropping up for him. If it wasn’t Eitrigg finding things for him to do, it was someone else from among his cast of minions…
Now, granted, you can hardly blame Garrosh for being a bit startled. This was taking place during Cataclysm, after all, so evidently Sylvanas was way, way ahead of the curve with the whole talking-head thing.
So Garrosh hopped the next zeppelin and headed to Eastern Kingdoms, where Sylvanas and her entourage were there to meet him with bad news for the living and dead alike…
Because seriously, that had been going on long enough.
Next up was a trip to the Apothecarium, where Garrosh first met Sylvanas’ head researcher, Master Apothecary Faranell.
A few awkwardly scripted interactions in the next room later…
And so, as per Faranell’s recommendation, Garrosh’s search for answers continued in Hillsbrad…
After many, many frustrating rounds of exhortations and beatings — which I won’t subject you to here — Garrosh was finally able to extract some information from a panicked Helcular: years ago, while still a living human, Helcular had seen a contingent from the Knights of the Silver Hand lurking around Southshore. Given the paladin order’s eventual interest in the Scourge, Garrosh concluded that there could be a link to the anti-plague. And considering the fact that, where the Silver Hand was concerned, Garrosh had an in right there on staff…
And look. A meeting took place. Words were exchanged. Many, many words. Spirits save us, so many words. And I’m simply not cruel enough to subject you to all of them here. Suffice to say that Garrosh ended up having to deploy Dontrag and Utvoch as part of an exit strategy. The main takeaway from the meeting — other than soul-crushing exhaustion — was that the Knights of the Silver Hand did indeed meet in Southshore some ten years ago to discuss the looming threat of the Scourge. Alexandros Mograine unveiled a magic crystal that would eventually be used to forge the Ashbringer — the ultimate weapon of the Light against undeath. The crystal, however, two of the knights had convinced Mograine to let them study the crystal for their own purposes, which led Garrosh, Mokvar, and Faranell to suspect there might be a connection to the current crisis in Southshore.
The only problem is, all relevant parties were now dead, leaving what seemed to be an equally dead trail for Garrosh and company to follow…
I had really wanted to cover this whole arc in this post, but this week got away from me a bit, so rather than make a late installment that much later, let’s toss up a “TO BE CONTINUED” here and resume our goofy walk down memory lane next time…
Oh, but also, since it’s kind of tradition at this point…
Daria’s Pro Tip for Dealing with Tirion #9: If someone else catches his attention, run — do not walk — out of the room. Do not look back. Do not feel remorse. It’s a hard, cruel world out there; better them than you.
Look on the Bright Side
[Yes, I know, a day late… but better late EPIC VERSE than no EPIC VERSE at all, right?]
Some of you might want to ask
Why I always take to task
Blundering
Underlings
In my EPIC VERSE.
“Surely, Garrosh,” you might claim,
“All of them can’t be so lame!
Maybe sad;
Not that bad!”
Actually, they’re worse.
Hey, but let’s not dwell on griping;
Asswipes always be asswiping.
But instead,
Go ahead —
Brace yourself for this one:
Just this once, no bleak opinions —
Singing praises of my minions!
What’s that look?
Yeah, it took
Some trying to get this done.
I wish half my minions had been
Half as able as Liadrin.
That’s my loss;
Blood Knight boss,
Scholar and tactician.
Even when our plans have blown up,
She’s the one who’s been the grown-up:
Keeps her shit,
Handles it,
Closes out the mission.
Mokvar — brains and skill? He passes.
Never respecs; he reclasses:
Warlock days,
Shaman’s ways,
Back to lock he varied.
Churns out transcripts smooth and slickly;
Don’t know how he writes so quickly.
Dude, respect.
Just reject
That human that you married.
Spazzle’s useless in a battle,
But tech problems? Well now that’ll
Be his game.
Just the same,
Dude is such a peewee.
But I’m s’posed to keep my focus
On the positive; that bloke is
Handy for
Fixing your
Wireless network D/C’s.
Give Sylvanas this much credit:
No endeavor makes her sweat it.
Cool as ice,
Once or twice
She’s risen from disaster.
(Still, sometimes her smug beseeming
Makes me wonder what she’s scheming.
Hopefully
One day we
Won’t have to outcast her…)
Lor’thewhatshisname is… spiffy.
Picks your drapes out in a jiffy.
Hair care tips,
Table flips,
Hands out quest-gold proceeds.
He would make an awesome spy;
Everyone forgets this guy.
Stroll right in,
Walk out, win,
SI:7 — no leads.
Ji’s your guy in case you want to
Empty out a pantry pronto.
Skills he’s got —
When he’s not
Busy eating pocky.
Baine is… okay, now we’re straining.
All he’s good at is complaining.
I suppose
Tauren goes
Well with teriyaki.
D&U… Okay, I’m trying.
Cut some slack, I’m up here dying.
I began
With a plan
That might not be appeased.
Yeah, that’s all the lines I’m inking.
I don’t know what I was thinking —
Blood and bone
From a stone
Just cannot be squeezed.
EPIC VERSE!
Shipwreck Me Twice, Shame on Me
When Nazgrim the legionnaire
Took over the captain’s chair,
With his new commission
He went on a mission
But he never made it there.
His vessel, instead, went splat
When it ran into Ozumat.
It floated no more;
To the ocean floor
It sunk and then that was that.
Nazgrim survived in Vashj’ir
And came home to Orgrimmar here;
Two more years in the bank,
A general’s rank
I granted the brigadier.
When we found a new land cloaked in mist,
I gave Nazgrim Hellscream’s Fist;
He had one command:
To go seize this land.
But then came the frustrating twist.
With the mists of Pandaria clearing,
Nazgrim somehow still had trouble steering:
He made his air skiff glide
Right into the cliffside.
I tell you, this quirk ain’t endearing.
So given two ships, Nazgrim wrecked ’em.
You might wonder, why would I select ’im?
My options aren’t packed; he
Was best of my lackeys
Who mostly have heads up their rectums.
But Nazgrim? A brain? Yeah, he’s got one.
He’ll step up for the jobs that are not fun.
And in times souls are tried,
He’ll ride in by your side —
Just make sure that you make him ride shotgun.
EPIC VERSE!
More EPICness in a few days… don’t forget to give suggestions in the comments for what other LYRICAL MASTERPIECES you’d like to see from your Warchief. Topics, opening lines, whatever comes to mind. YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS.
To My Minions: How Do You Fail Me?
How do you fail me? Let me count the ways.
You fail me every time I take the chance
You might do something right — just once, perchance,
But no, our every mission goes sideways.
You fail me, D&U, with every phrase;
You fail when Lor’themar tries not to prance,
When Nazgrim crashed his ships, and missed his chance:
He let the captured Anduin get away.
My minions let me down at every turn;
I give them ample chances, but they choke.
Some day, I think, these imbeciles will learn;
One outcome won’t be such a fucking joke.
I think that… then here comes the next ill turn.
Free from their failure? Maybe when I croak.
EPIC VERSE!
The Expendables
When Dontrag and Utvoch enlisted at first,
Within a few minutes, Thrall thought he was cursed.
They’d barely shown up when their path was reversed:
To Ashenvale they were assigned.
To Splintertree Post they were hurried along,
Where Utvoch would sneak to nearby Forest Song
To leer at the draenei (It know, it’s so wrong) —
The hooves spellbound his one-track mind.
At first, D&U made a good enough showing,
Until Mastok made his mistake, without knowing:
One “hello” in passing; that just got them going.
Try shutting them up? It’s no use.
Two weeks of their babbling left Mastok shaken,
But then came the Shattering, saving his bacon:
For all the destruction and death it was makin’,
It also gave him his excuse.
With Ashenvale rocked, opportunity soared —
Then Silverwind Refuge was claimed by the Horde!
Mastok realized they needed new troops on board,
And he knew two orcs for the job.
They caught the next caravan heading down there.
The transfer was rushed, but Mastok didn’t care;
Just let them be stuck in Captain Tarkan’s hair!
Let his be the time that they rob.
But Tarkan’s a smart one — he sized up his gains
And knew right away D&U had no brains,
And, saving himself several dozen migraines,
He shuffled them out of his sight.
By this point, ol’ D&U’s heads, they were spinning;
These transfers had them dizzy idiot-grinning.
But who knew their story was only beginning?
From Ashenvale they rode by night.
To Stonetalon Mountains they made their meander,
Where Overlord Krom’gar was their new commander.
They showed him their papers, he scarce took a gander,
And took them on board to enlist ’em.
So basically Tarkan made Krom’gar a sucker;
That’s great, ’cause you know I hate that motherfucker.
That dude can lean into my ass with a pucker —
Except I’ve already dismissed ’im.
Fast forward a few months, and D&U’s blather
Had worn out its welcome (though really I’d rather
Have seen them annoy Krom’gar straight to a lather);
He’d tired of their jokes and their speeches.
At this point, some silence was all Krom’gar craved
(If only he knew he’d get lots in the grave),
So he sent their asses off into a cave:
Assigned them to watch the Deep Reaches.
And that’s where I found them; I never suspected
What kind of annoying asshats I’d collected,
Or to what frustration I’d soon be subjected;
Perhaps Krom’gar got the last laugh.
They’re always around now; it’s like some confinement
Where nothing I do can untwine our entwinement;
You’d think someone else could once get the assignment —
I need better minions on staff.
So this is my life now — I go anyplace,
I turn around once, I’ve got them in my face;
Pandaria, Orgrimmar — hell, Netherspace!
All plans to escape just unravel.
As much as I’d like to unload them, I’m stuck;
When you’re Warchief, there’s no more passing the buck.
I wish I could go back and warn myself — fuck,
Strike that idea. FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.
So ever since D&U first got recruited,
The one common thread has been them getting booted.
That might be the only job to which they’re suited
Since nobody wants them around.
If you had to deal with them, you’d do it, too.
I’m sure I’ll repeat this more times than a few:
You cannot spell “dumbass” without D and U.
Now ’scuse me — in beer I must drown.
EPIC VERSE!
Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge continues later this week — remember, new BRILLIANT AND EPIC COMPOSITIONS will go up every Tuesday and Friday for the duration of National Poetry Month. Be sure to post suggestions and requests for future installments in the comments below — give me a topic, give me an opening line, give me someone who’s done you wrong who you’d like me to give an EPIC VERSE takedown. Unless you think I did you wrong somehow. WHICH I MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT. So maybe YOU will be getting the takedown. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES, HUH?
More soon.
Kypari Zar
[Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you! As I said at the end of the Spazzle mailbag, I want to finish Garrosh’s journey to Kypari Zar before I return him to mailbag duty. And since we still have a few chapters of the Kypari Zar story to go, today’s regularly scheduled mailbag is on hold until this comic sequence wraps up. (I’ve used awkward workarounds in the past to let him post mailbags while he was in the middle of other events, but truth be told, I always found them rather inelegant, so I’d rather not resort to them again…) As I indicated last time, the mail will be coming, the first Monday following the completion of the Kypari Zar mini-arc (believe me, you’ll know when that is!).
Until then, all I can do is thank you for your patience with my slow production of late, thank you in advance for your ongoing patience going forward, and promise that I really am working on generating content for the blog as quickly as life will allow! Oh, and hope that you’re finding that content tolerable when it finally does get here… <crosses fingers>
With that said… let me toss out a handy link back to parts one and two, then send you right along to… ]
THREE: HAUNTED
* As longtime readers will remember, Garrosh believed at one point that he had been reunited with his long-lost mother, Lakkara,** only to discover that her apparent return had actually been a ruse perpetrated by Magatha Grimtotem. Magatha used to specially attuned totem to summon Lakkara’s spirit and create the appearance that she had returned, only to stage her apparent death — hauntingly, given the current events at Kypari Zar, by her stepping in to take an attacker’s blow directed at Garrosh.
** I’ve noted this before, but it bears repeating: while Lords of War and the “Hellscream” short story established that Garrosh’s mother’s name was Golka, the blog still acknowledges her as Lakkara. This is partially because the blog arc had already happened by the time Lords of War came along, and I didn’t really want to retcon, and partially because… well, you’ll see. There is A Plan.™ Just trust me for now!
Okay, who pulled?
Earlier today, I rounded up General Nazgrim, Shokia, Jorn Skyseer, and a few Kor’kron — beastmasters in particular — and finally took a trip up to the Isle of Giants. Most of you will probably remember I’ve been having Nazgrim send his people up there to get the lay of the land and scout out the prospect of there being some animals — the Giants of which this is the Isle of — that might be useful to us. Because DINOSAURS, motherfucker.
Now, most of you will ALSO probably remember that the last time I got a report on the subject from Naz and company, I was still in Orgrimmar, and Nazgrim’s people decided to get cute rather than waiting for me to get back down here to Pandaria. And, you know, things went about as well as you’d expect them to when my minions go off-script. R.I.P. Wannabe Dinomancer Steve, you stupid dead motherfucker.
So today I finally took the trip up there to check things out personally. And HOO BOY, they were NOT kidding about that place. DINOSAUR CITY, man. Shokia took point for us, since she’d led the scouting expeditions and knew the territory the best. She guided us up to this central plateau on the island, and lo and behold, larger than life, there he was — Oondasta, the giant freaking devilsaur that Nazgrim’s crew had their eyes on last time, before ol’ Deadmaster Steve turned out to smell appetizing.
Now, though, we came prepared — seeing as THIS time, the brains of the operation had an actual BRAIN. What’s more, I had my handy-dandy Tome of Dinomancy that Grottee Metalbeard scored for me, and after we managed to maneuver Oondasta into a clear area, the beastmasters started doing their thing, and everything started falling into place. The dino struggled at first, but soon enough he started giving in to the enchantments of the tome, and full-on taming looked to be right around the corner.
Aaaaaand of course, since this is US, that’s when something stupid happened. The stupid in this case took the form of this random bunch of Alliance nobodies running on in and ATTACKING the damn devilsaur that we were trying to tame. Before we even had a chance to react, they had the dino beaten down pretty badly, and even though we were able to thin the herd pretty quickly once we realized what was going on, the remaining Allies were still able to finish Oondasta off. Like, just shy of one minute before I personally chopped the last handful of them into several dozen pieces.
But, still, damage done. Shokia was nearly as pissed off about it as I was, which is saying something. Apparently it’s some kind of a hunter thing, people killing their prospective pets, and I mean, who the fuck does that? In what other setting is that shit a cool thing to do? Would someone go running into a fucking pet shop, too, and put an axe through the damn goldfish you were getting ready to buy, along with a little model sunk ship and a little model Nazgrim leading his little model crew away from their latest little model disaster? No. Nobody does that. But oh boy, take the “you kill it, you buy it” policy out of the equation, and all of a sudden watch the griefers come out of the woodwork. Fucking rude if you ask me.
Anyway, I suppose we didn’t come away COMPLETELY empty-handed. We know that these tomes actually work, for one thing. And according to my sources, there’s an even bigger, badder devilsaur wandering around out there. A little more elusive, apparently, but we’ll find him.
Also, I have kind of a consolation prize to bring back to base with me. After Oondasta and the bad-judgment-having Alliance jackasses all bought it, we were getting ready to leave, when this young, cobalt-colored direhorn came wandering into the clearing. She went sniffing around Oondasta’s body, then poked around kind of aimlessly before she came over near us. Jorn’s guess is that the direhorn followed Oondasta around and fed on his leftovers. Whatever the story was, she seemed to take a liking to me right away (#TheLadyDinosaursLoveGarrosh?), and started following me, and… well… yeah, I guess I’ve got another mount for my personal stash in the stables. <shrug>
Anyhow, I suppose we’ve got a little time now to line things up for take two with that other devilsaur. In the meantime, I get to figure out how I’m going to get a damn direhorn back to base.
More soon.
Worg in sheep’s clothing
Mokvar’s been keeping me posted on his research into the Golmash situation, and needless to say I don’t like the sound of this one bit. I finally decided it was time for me to go over to have a look at this wolf personally. Mokvar came with, since he’s already deep into the situation, plus Shayari decided she was going to tag along, mainly because I think she heard me talking about going over to the Hunter’s Hall and got the idea in her head that maybe it was like a petting zoo or some shit. Granted, it’s not like she’s got any part in this business, but I’ve already learned how little good it goes to try to get her to stay put when she’s got her mind set on going somewhere. (I really was hoping that would skip a generation.)
So the bunch of us headed over to the Hunter’s Hall this morning. That also marks the first time I’ve gotten to have a little face time with Ogunaro Wolfrunner, after having had a fair bit of contact with him through his mailbag letters. Good guy, make no mistake, but yeah, Mokvar wasn’t kidding, dude could not be more earnest if he tried. I can see why his kid grew up seriously needing to unclench a little. Speaking of whom, Corkrok passed his om’riggor since last we heard. Good on him. No surprise, of course — he seemed plenty driven. I can already tell he’s going to be a regular laugh riot for Overlord Runthak, though, when the kid hitches on with his trainee unit.
Anyhow, on to the main event.
So the plan was twofold — one, for me to have a look for myself at this wolf and see what the hubbub is about, between Ogunaro’s reports and Mokvar’s creeped-out investigations and his suspicion there might actually be someone in there. And two, to move Golmash over to a special pen I’ve had set up at the Kor’kron stables, where he can be kept isolated and under close observation, as opposed to the general stables we have open to the public at the Hunter’s Hall.
Part one went smoothly enough, even if it was disturbing. As per my orders, Ogunaro had Golmash isolated from the other wolves. I’d heard plenty about him, but this was my first time seeing him with my own eyes. Ogunaro and Mokvar weren’t kidding about how creepy this wolf is. On paper, I wouldn’t have figured that the green glow in his eyes would be as unnerving as it is, but the more you watch him, the more disturbing it seems. It doesn’t even jump right out at you — you can miss it if you aren’t really watching, but once you notice it, it’s like you can’t look away. Green and glowing, with that dull haze that somehow manages to glow and look dead at the same time. I wouldn’t have thought that combination was possible. (Then again, D&U manage to keep themselves alive while, you know, being D&U, so that probably shows all you need to know about seeming contradictions. If you don’t have a taste for paradox, you better not try taking life straight.)
It’s a weird coincidence that Ogunaro decided to name the wolf after my grandfather, the first to carry the name Hellscream. Golmash (the original, not the four-legged knockoff) died in the jaws of a giant gronn — but not before he drove Gorehowl into the giant’s skill to bring it down with him. I almost hate to admit it, but if it wasn’t for this whole creepy fel-tinged level to what’s going on, I would even think the name was fitting — one look and you get the feeling that if Gruul tried to swallow this wolf, he’d probably claw his way right out of Gruul’s mouth, up through his eye, and probably rip out his brain while he was at it.
So that was part one.
Part two ended up being more complicated than I was counting on. We already had a couple Kor’kron beastmasters on hand at Ogunaro’s place, keeping an eye on Golmash, and I had a couple other sent over to meet us when I went to pay my visit. Plus I made a point of putting extra guards around the Valley of Honor, and cleared a route from the Hunter’s Hall to the Kor’kron stables. So you would THINK that would be enough to handle the damn mutt.
YOU WOULD BE WRONG.
We might have had plans to transport Golmash over to the location, but Golmash had no such plans to go anywhere, and evidently when the best-laid plans of worgs and orcs run into each other, what oft goes awry is any delusion I might have had of getting things done quickly so I can grab an early lunch. Because that just would have been too fucking convenient.
According to Ogunaro, Golmash had been kind of ornery when he moved him into his current pen as per my instructions, but the wolf ultimately went along with it. Apparently, though, the furball was getting crankier by the day. The Kor’kron beastmasters tried to maneuver him along the exit path we’d planned, but Golmash was having none of it. At one point, two of the beastmasters tried to direct Golmash along with training prods, but even that wound up being a bad idea — he lunged right past the prods and onto one of the beastmasters. And I mean, I guess he probably didn’t NEED that arm, strictly speaking — it was just his left, after all — but it still has to be a drag being short one. Unless he came from the Shattered Hand clan, in which case, you know, either overdue or ironic, depending on how you look at it. He still fared better, though, than another one of the beastmasters who tried to help pull Golmash off him, because… well, the less said about that the better. The word “entrails” comes to mind.
So right about then, I was having one of my need-better-minions moments, what with multiple supposed “beastmasters” not exactly fully specced into actual beast mastery, and one of them apparently not having put any points into survival, either. Or I WOULD have been having one of those moments if it weren’t for the fact that I was busy dealing with a suddenly highly agitated, seemingly fel-compromised worg that may or may not be carrying some heretofore unknown spiritual cargo that makes KILLING him a non-starter even if DON’T TEMPT ME, while finding myself short one-and-a-quarter beastmasters, with Ogunaro running around the place swapping out his 3/3 Enhanced Earnestness to respec deep into Freakout while he tried to keep the surrounding pens under control, what with Golmash’s antics having gotten a whole bunch of the OTHER nearby stabled animals all riled up and agitated. And granted, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve found myself in a minion-related situation that I would compare to being a zoo, but come the fuck ON, universe, this is making it a little on-the-nose even for me.
So it was right around this point, when I was finally coming to the realization that yelling at the gaggle of panicking fuckers to pull their heads out of their asses and HANDLE it, that Shayari of all people actually had the presence of mind to pop a rapid-fire polymorph on Golmash. Which was pretty clutch, I’ve gotta say. Must be the Hellscream blood. (I even said something to her to that effect, but that just got her curious about family history and asking questions about Grom, but I managed to sidestep THAT long story by promising to tell her about it once we weren’t hip-deep in stupidity. I figure that oughta buy me at least a month or two.)
Anyhow, at THAT point, getting the wolf moved was a fairly simple task, since even those beastmasters — whose job title I’m seriously beginning to reconsider on grounds of irony — managed not to have too much trouble transporting a fucking sheep a little ways across town. And if the lot of them felt kind of embarrassed strolling through Orgrimmar in their badass Kor’kron armor and toting heavy-duty don’t-fuck-with-me weaponry while providing armed escort to a fucking SHEEP, well you know what? GOOD. Maybe next time, if they want to stroll around looking all hardcore, they should maybe figure out a way to STAY ON TOP OF THE HARDCORE-TYPE ASSIGNMENTS.
Ugh.
So. Wolf is under wraps in a controlled environment, is what I’m saying.
Or so I’d like to think. But, you know, based on recent field results, who knows. I’ll say this, all these trainees we’ve got coming up through the ranks are going to have all fucking kinds of room for career advancement right quick. Now if you’ll excuse me, in the meantime, I think I need to go put a “Jobs Available” post on Kragslist.
More soon.
Leave the dinomancy to the dinomancers
So, I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this before, but I’m really starting to think, oh, I don’t know, I might possibly need some BETTER FUCKING MINIONS. Have I already talked about this?
WELL HERE’S THE LATEST FUCKING CHAPTER.
I just got a report from General Nazgrim in Pandaria. Delivered straight from Pandaria by the general’s personal courier, Quirox the Illiterate. Yes, you read that right. Yes, that’s his nickname. No, I’m not joking. And yes, it’s accurate. And as ridiculous as that sounds, it actually has some merit to it. Think about it — an illiterate courier means you can send highly classified, top secret documents without there being ANY chance of prying eyes peeking in transit. Also, this might or might not tell us anything, but later on in the day, guess who I noticed ol’ Quirox hanging out with? Here’s a hint: the letters D and U are involved. Birds of a braindead feather, I tell you.
Anyway, Nazgrim’s report. And if you’ve been reading the blog for any length of time, you probably already have a sense of what tends to happen when I delegate to people and then have them report back to me later. For those of you who are new to the party, what tends to happen is NOTHING WHATSOEVER THAT IS GOOD FOR MY FUCKING BLOOD PRESSURE. Case in point: A little while back, I gave Nazgrim orders to send some people up to this Isle of Giants place off the coast of Pandaria and see what the dinosaur situation was. Because if the fucking Zandalari could sweet-talk some of the dinosaurs into being mounts and minions for them, we sure as well should try to get in on the ground floor there, because DINOSAURS, HOT DAMN.
Now, Nazgrim’s original assignment was to send a scouting detail to size things up. Which he did, with a small team headed by Marksman Shokia and Shademaster Kiryn. They zipped on up to the Isle of Giants, surveyed the area, gathered info on the denizens. No sign of the Zandas, other than an abandoned ship off the coast. Still loads of dinosaurs all over the place, ready for the taking. So far, so good. Awesome.
Then, for some reason I DON’T KNOW WHY, Nazgrim decided to get creative and go off the script.
This is the part where the long-time readers among you probably starting getting a Bad Feeling About This.
Because…yeah.
So, you might remember a few mailbags ago, Grottee Metalbeard sent along a peace offering to make up for his HOLY FUCKING SHIT “How to Out-Tirion Tirion” letter, in the form of a Zandalari Tome of Dinomancy that he’d gotten hold of. (I’ll forgive you if you’d missed that detail, since by that point a lot of you were probably like “Oh shit, another Grottee letter, it’s skim time, somebody tell me when it’s safe to come out.”) (Then the universe unleashed Sarlin on us all. Well played, universe. You win again.) My plan was to bring it with me when I head back to Pandaria, along with a team of Kor’kron beastmasters, and have them see if they could make use of it to tame us some new badass military monsters.
Somehow or other, though, Nazgrim got his hands on one of those tomes himself, and decided it was a good idea to take matters into his own hands and have some of his people try to use it themselves, even though the people HE had on hand weren’t Kor’kron beastmasters. They were, in fact, neither Kor’kron NOR beastmasters. Nor competent. Nor in possession, apparently, of an ounce of fucking SENSE, but hey, since when is THAT news when it comes to somebody I have on my payroll not named fucking ME?
So Nazgrim toddled on up to the Isle of Giants with… I don’t know, WHOEVER the fuck he thought would be good to try this with. Some non-Kor’kron non-beastmaster dude. I don’t even think he was a hunter, because, yeah, THAT’S another good idea when you’re trying to tame something. I don’t even know WHAT he was. Just some guy, apparently. Probably named Steve or some shit. ANYWAY. They flew over there, and Nazgrim had one of his people, Generic Red Shirt Moron Steve, try his luck with the Tome of Dinomancy. Oh but also, to add to the shit-tacular brilliance of this plan, they didn’t bother trying things out on any of the smaller, weaker dinosaurs, just to get a feel for the process, because that would just make too much damn SENSE, right? Oh no, old Steve went straight for the big noise — he went right on up to this giant freaking devilsaur that the locals called Oondasta. And, you know, when a dinosaur gets a fucking NAME, you know it’s no joke, right? As if to say, oh, those plain ol’ regular dinosaurs? Pfft, who cares about those? They’re just FUCKING DINOSAURS. But THIS one here? HOO BOY, THIS is the one you have to pay attention to.
So ol’ fucking worthless shithead Steve — who I literally know nothing about other than his existence (and by the way, stay tuned even on THAT front), but who I’m still going to make sweeping dismissive comments about because FUCK THAT IDIOT — he rolled up on Oondasta like he owned the place, and started trying whatever dino-mojo the Tome of Dinomancy had in it. And Oondasta picked up on the dinomancy vibe and came stomping on over, and walked right up to fuckhead Steve, and you know what happened next? THE FUCKING DEVILSAUR LEANED RIGHT DOWN AND SWALLOWED STEVE IN ONE BITE, COMPLETE WITH THE FUCKING TOME, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.
By the way, let me tell you, Nazgrim’s attempt to give an account of that in his report, without making it sound like the total fucking disaster that it was? I don’t know if it was hilarious or fucking sad. It’s a damn good thing he’s a decent field officer, though, because his non-combat decisionmaking? Eesh.
Anyway, though, I would say we’re back to the drawing board, except we really aren’t any worse off than we were before Nazgrim had his little brainstorm. We still have a useful scouting report on the Isle of Giants, and we still have MY Tome of Dinomancy, because unlike some OTHER people I could mention (I’m looking right at YOU, Steve — or I WOULD, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re probably getting ready to get shat out by Oondasta even as we speak), I have enough sense not to go running off unprepared to do some stupid shit. I MAKE SURE I’M PREPARED FOR THE STUPID SHIT I DO, GODDAMMIT.
We’ll just have to pick this up once I get back down there, tome and beastmasters in tow. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that nobody manages to shit the bed on this operation any more than they already have.
More soon.
