Tag Archives: lathorius
Catch-Up Mechanic
A quick out-of-character preface to what will be something of an out-of-character installment — I knew that when I revived the blog, I wanted to include some recaps of what’s come before. After all, even I in all my arrogance couldn’t assume that everyone would remember what’s been going on after all this time. But I also didn’t want that recapping just to be paragraph after paragraph of exposition. I finally came up with an idea that should serve both to refresh everyone’s memory and also to quickly acclimate anyone who’s just now arriving. Hope you enjoy this slant on things… you’ll likely be seeing it again!
(As a minor side note, if you have trouble seeing any of the embedded text in the images to come, you can always click on them to see a larger version.)
And so, with no further ado… Let’s dip into an oddly familiar third-person view of our typically first-person story…
It all began a few years back, when an unsuspecting Garrosh noticed that Eitrigg seemed to have something on his mind…
The Warchief, unconvinced but curious, made his way over to the goblin part of town, where he found what would eventually become a very familiar face…
To make it happen, Spazzle had a followup quest of his own…
Although this one wasn’t quite as well-received as Eitrigg’s start to the chain…
Garrosh returned to Grommash Hold and did just that. And so, his second career as a very, very, very low-grade blogging celebrity began…
His first, but far from his last. Despite not-infrequent gaps and delays, the posts would keep on coming.
Okay, you get the point. It turns out that the big lug had a lot of thoughts and musings to share. But that initial suggestion that the Warchief go talk to Spazzle wasn’t the last time that Eitrigg would have a job for Garrosh, even in those early days.
Hoo boy. This one was going to keep Garrosh busy for a while, which, as you can well imagine, filled him with satisfaction with his career choices. On the up side, while conducting his inspections, he would manage to unlock various other side quests, not all of which were exactly a chore…
As you can imagine, he really was in his element.
That said, while it’s all fun and games while you’re blowing up night elves, afterward Garrosh needed to get back down to business and deal with a number of subpar performances.
By all appearances, that was the end of that. Mokvar got to work on his inscription, the wyvern got some much-needed exercise along the Winterspring-Silithus round-trip flight path, and all was well with Azeroth. Until a strange missive found its way into the Warchief’s weekly mailbag…
Okay, so with the mission done and Mortimer the wyvern back under Horde control, that was definitely the end of that.
Until, up late one night playing Earth Online, Garrosh heard a strange knocking at the door.
Lathorius’ attack against Garrosh went about as well as everything else he does. Mortimer came to the rescue, securing his place at Garrosh’s side, where he’s been ever since.
And Garrosh, meanwhile, wouldn’t see the last addition to his inner circle of followers. Because Eitrigg just never seemed to run out of ideas…
Don’t worry — we won’t be going through the whole blog step by step like this. But it’s a fun enough way to revisit some of the major story threads as we ramp back up. If there are particular events or storylines you’d especially like to see get this treatment, by all means chime in!
More soon!
Monday mailbag
Okay, peeps, time to hack through a little more of this backlog of letters. Here we go.
As an amateur artist myself, I’m always interested in others’ artistic work. Lately I’ve been taking particular interest in the artistry that went into your tattoos. I’m curious if they have any special meaning, like certain markings indicating anything specifically. They look like someone put a lot of effort into the intricate detailing. And placement.
No, really, that’s why I’ve been staring. I’m studying. The tattoos.
Also, speaking of artwork, tell Gurtash to keep up the good work, I’ve been enjoying watching his drawings develop. Is there any chance that some of his drawings of you might become available as pinups? I’m just curious. I’d like to help support a budding young artist, you see.
Innocently yours,
–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City
Uh huh. Yup.
#TheLadiesLoveGarrosh
But to answer your question, Tandeleina (do you have any nicknames, by the way? not for nothing, but your name is seriously a bitch to type)… The tattoos are Warsong ceremonial markings, done by Vanteg from back in Nagrand. I talked about this a little once before, but I guess I never really touched on what the tattoos actually mean. Because they DO mean things – they’re not just some fancy scribbles that somebody doodled all over me at random and hoped they would look badass. Well, except when Gurtash draws them, because honestly, he DOES just kind of doodle them all over me, like I can just imagine him spending all day working on one of those sketches of me, and struggling like hell to recreate all that awesome on paper, and then he gets to the end and realizes he still needs to do the tattoos, only at that point he’s all tired and spent from the whole exercise so he’s like “oh fuck it” and scribbles a bunch of vaguely stripey shapes on me. Because, see, in reality, unlike Gurtash’s drawings, my tattoos are NOT different shapes in different locations every single time you look at me. Kid’s got a good eye in general, I guess, but apparently getting that much right calls for TWO good eyes.
But I digress.
Anyway, the tattoos fall into two groups, the ones on my back and the ones on my shoulders and arms. The markings on my arms stand for the major victories and achievements of my family line, with the earliest accomplishments being represented around my shoulders, then working their way toward the present as they continue down my arms. So as you trace down each arm, you can follow the achievements of my grandfather, Golmash, then Grommash and Lakkara, then me. They all pretty much look like interchangeable stripes to the untrained eye, but see, there are all these little subtle variations, where the bands get thicker or narrower, where there are little nicks and indentations, where there are curves and where they stay straight… every little detail is symbolic for something. You’ll also notice, the tattoos only run down to about my elbows. I had Vanteg do that deliberately, so there’d be room for me to add more tattoos down the rest of my arms as time goes on. Who knows, now that it turns out I’m not the last of the line, maybe if Shay does something big one day, I can get myself inked up a little more to cover that.
Meanwhile, the tattoos on my back mean something else. See, the accomplishments of my family go on my arms, because the arms stand for deeds and actions. The back, on the other hand, stands for the…well, the backbone. The framework that supports everything else. So the markings on my back symbolize different qualities that are valued in the Warsong clan or within my family line. So there’s one marking that means loyalty, and one marking that means prowess in battle, and another marking that means strength of will, and then there’s that one stray marking on the left side of my back that means Vanteg should have known to put the fucking needle down for a minute when he felt the hiccups coming on. By the by, he’s got a marking of his own now that symbolizes that very same thing, only it’s not made of fucking ink.
So there you go, ladies. Now you have an excuse to take a good long look next time you see me tooling around Orgrimmar. It’s not leering, it’s exegesis! I’ll know the truth, but that can just be our little secret. You’re welcome.
Wazzup? Long time reader, first time writer here. Anyway, I got a bit of a problem I was hoping you’d take care of for me. Could you call off your Kor’kron mooks every time I come into the city to sell my goods? I’m a loyal citizen of the Horde and a skilled engineer, and I haven’t stolen anything I ain’t earned through good and honest–whoa I almost got that out legit there.
Anyway, all I do is sell inferior gnome engineered products to promote how much more AWESOME goblin engineered products are (not to mention that there’s less of a chance of turning into a chicken when you use ’em), but every time, your Kor’kron goons come over and harass me outta my stall! Since I’m already paying protection to the Tinker’s Guild and the Trade Prince, if I gotta start paying you, I wouldn’t even be breaking even profit-wise! What’s a girl gotta do to make some semi-honest coin around here?
–Glessee “Glitch” Sparkbolt, Sparkbolt Enterprises
Hey, Glitch, thanks for writing. What the hell took you so long? Freaking lazy-ass goblins. Anyhow.
So let me get the straight. Your business plan…is to sell stuff that you know going in is crap…so people can SEE that it’s crap…and then not buy it anymore…and then go to someone ELSE who’s selling BETTER stuff and buy from THEM? So you’re telling them, “Goblin products are awesome – and I’m not selling them! So you better go give your money to someone who isn’t me”? That’s your business model?
I’m going to stick my neck way, way out and guess that you don’t exactly have investors lined up around the block to sink money into this operation.
So as far as the Kor’kron go, see, there isn’t any law against selling gnomish products, but if you’re causing a nuisance with your junk, then yeah, they’re going to come over and stop the operation and make sure you don’t give any more people cause to register complaints.
So here’s the question for you: When you were getting “harassed” out of your stall, HAD you just turned a would-be customer into a chicken? How about a frog? Did you just make somebody’s mother-in-law seven feet taller? Did you just give some horny teenager x-ray vision? (Fucking hell save us if that kind of tech drops into a certain pair of doodle-prone hands I know.) Did you just go “one two three kablooey” and turn somebody’s hat into a bowl lime sherbet? Did you give somebody a free trial of a teleportation device only instead of taking them to the Barrens it popped them into a parallel dimension made entirely out of shrimp, only when you pulled them back it split them into two copies of themselves, one with all the good and noble qualities and one with all the evil nasty stuff, but neither of them are strong enough to survive on their own, plus there’s the persistent uncontrollable toxic flatulence?
Because seriously, once you open the can of worms that is gnomish tech, no outcome is too ridiculous to be off the menu. That’s why, at the end of the day, I DO prefer goblin products. At least with those, you know they’re only ever going to blow up in your face LITERALLY.
I finally decided to give Earth Online a try after reading about your adventures there. It’s a pretty fun game! I decided to follow in your footsteps and roll a teacher class. I’m coming up on the end of the university starter zone, and I’ve been doing okay with the student teacher proving grounds, but since I’m about to venture off the safe confines of campus, I was wondering if you had any helpful tips on playing a teacher successfully in the big wide world?
–Gurda Ragescar, Splintertree Post
Thanks for writing, Gurda. Glad you’re liking the game. The teacher class is a tricky one, what with all the lesson plan juggling and management of your minions, but it can be pretty fun once you work out how you’re going to do things. A lot of stuff is going to depend on how you’re specced, like if you’ve got more of a science or orcities (what those Alliance buggers probably call humanities) build, so I don’t want to get too deep into specifics that might not apply to you. But, I can give you a few things you might want to keep in mind.
First, when you’re dealing with your minions and issuing them commands, you need to spam those keybindings. Do not – repeat, DO NOT – make the mistake of thinking you can press the button once to tell the brats to do something and then sit back pleased as can be expecting them to go do it. There is ZERO chance they’re going to do what you tell them until you click on it at least three or four times. Same thing goes for when you try to up their skills. You want to boost them up a skill point, you need to hit that train button six or seven times. It will not take otherwise. It’ll bounce right off their stubborn little heads. You might think I’m crazy, but just you watch – try sending them off on a mission, only hit the assignment key once, then come back when the mission is supposed to be done, and watch the blank looks on their faces, like they’re saying, “Oh…did you want me to do something?”
Second, sometimes when you’re dealing with one of your minions, it’ll spawn this older-looking NPC that’ll aggro on you and initiate a parent-teacher conference solo scenario. Those can be tricky. You’ve got to improvise on the fly as far as the parent’s mechanics, but basically, you need to wear them down until they stop being hostile and turn friendly. At that point, they’ll help you reinforce whatever you’re trying to get your minions to do. Here’s the catch, though: some of the parents will be really easy to get on your side, and some of them will be damn near impossible – like infuriatingly so. And the funny part is, the easy parents are the ones whose kids were pretty easy for you to handle in the first place, so you probably don’t really NEED help from the parents. But those are the ones that spawn more often. But the harder parents? Yeah, they’re tough to deal with, but they’re kind of worth it, because THEIR kids are frigging impossible to handle, so you NEED all the help you can get with them…only those parents almost never spawn. It’s like they don’t want to be bothered with the little brats, so good luck ever getting them to show for a conference.
When you’re grinding out your paper-grading dailies, DO NOT try to do too many of them in one sitting. If you try to grind out too many at once, your patience bar will burn out way too quickly and you’ll end up giving D’s to everyone in the bottom half of the pile.
That’s it as far as suggestions. One fun thing to look out for, though – when you’re going around the world away from your school, keep an eye out for your minions. It won’t happen often, but every once in a while you’ll randomly run into one of them wandering around the world. Keep an eye open, and watch them when that happens – they will freak the fuck out, like they’re totally dumbstruck by the fact that you exist out in the regular world. I just get a kick out of watching them panic and scramble around all confused. Maybe it’s just me.
The name’s Grottee Metalbeard. You know, that goblin who came to see you with a letter from your old buddy Thrall. Of course, you probably remember better from when a message with my name on it was sent to your Live Blog a coupla weeks back. Darndest thing: that wasn’t me.
Turns out, my assistant Mindy found my password and logged in a few hundred times when I wasn’t around – after all, a shaman’s work is never done. That little question about the Warsong? Her doing. It’s a good question, but I wasn’t gonna ask it, so she did.
Good news is, I finally know why I’m getting all those meal deal emails. And how my old boss Gallywix somehow found out about my recent fling with an old friend, Sassy Hardwrench, during one of my trips to Stranglethorn. (I knew all those gossip magazines were hiding something from me!)
The bad news is, I’m now in the market for a new assistant. And a new office. Turns out she blew it up with smuggled explosives. That mystery boob job she went on and on about? Bombs smuggled in under the shirt. My fault for not asking for a look I guess. Don’t suppose you know where else I could set up?
Aaaanyway, that ain’t what I’m really writing in about. No, no, what I’m writing in about, is these three words: Blackfuse, elementals, trolls.
What am I talking about? I’ll discuss each topic in brief.
Step 1: Blackfuse. I can tell you’re not exactly worried about the technology of your Horde right about now, seeing as how you’re trying to master the Sha and all that. But you really should be. If what I’ve heard is true, the Alliance is gearing up to take you on. As in, lay siege to Orgrimmar, kill anyone who doesn’t run away/surrender and stick your head on a pike. And I’m not talking about your average bunch of Alliance adventurers going in and taking a shot at you hoping Varian will send them a bear in the mail (how does that work, by the way?) or anything like that. I mean, armies from all over Azeroth baring down on you with their hackles raised. Fortunately for you, I know a guy who’ll crank Orgrimmar’s Engineering skill all the way to the top. His name’s Helix Blackfuse, and he runs a little outfit called Blackfuse company. They’re a rowdy bundle of backstickers and grease-monkeys who build high-tech shredders, giant lasers, the odd drilling machine and yes, a crapload of bombs, then sell ’em to whoever’s got the gold. I’m saying this ’cause while I don’t have enough money to pay him to make me a sandwich, you probably have the gold to tie him to the Horde at the hip. Blackfuse has a weakness for shiny gold worse than the average magpie; you pay him enough, he’ll build you a giant metal scorpid with laser, bombs and buzz-saws coming out the wazoo. I figure that should be a step in the right direction.
Step 2: Elementals. Let me be blunt, Warchief: I know you’ve been getting offers of help from the Dark Shaman. You know, the ones who force the elementals to bend to their will and corrupt them into creatures of darkness. I’m only gonna say this once: don’t. Whatever neat little tricks they promised you, don’t. Don’t say yes to the jokers who think the elements are tools they get to bend in or out of shape as they like. You think life in the desert is harsh now? I’ve been chatting to the elements here, and they’re being nice. Even after you dragged out those molten giants during your attack on Theramore, they’ve decided to let your people keep on living here. But they’re running out of tolerance. It’s pretty understandable. If you laugh and spit in people’s faces too often they’ll try to get rid of you – like I was gonna do to Gallywix before the volcano on Kezan erupted. Besides, you don’t need to force the elementals to fight for you – some of them’ll do it for free.
And before you ask, I know this because since the death of Deathwing I’ve been hopping to some of the elemental planes, chating with the natives. Turns out, there’s entire armies of elementals out there without a cause to fight for. I don’t expect you to know this, but the leaders of the wind and fire elementals got KO’d a while back, like FOR REAL. Not coming back no matter how many reset buttons get pushed. Which means there’s a power vacuum in the Skywall and the Firelands – and a few of the more intelligent ones are happy to take any work they can get. Business has been good for me so far. Maybe you’d like to try it?
Now, like I said, the wind and fire elementals need no prompting, so that’s two elements ticked off right from the off. Earth is a little more tricky, ’cause their ruler is still around, and they’re not exactly big on mortals around there. Still, I’ve got a lot of pull with the Stonemother, so I imagine at least some of them would be willing to try working with someone I gave a ringing endorsement. The water boys, though? That’s kinda tricky. They’d be willing to give you a run, see how things go. But there’s a catch (of course there is) – namely, they want a small army of Horde troops to help them with reclaiming the Abyssal Maw from the naga. And not the kids fresh out of training either. Top of the line Kor’kron boots in the water is what they want. It seems there’s a few of them who are happy to serve the Alliance’s Frost mage population, and they don’t really want to switch sides without a little stellar motivation. I was half-tempted to say yes just to find out what the hell happened to that Neptulon guy, but I figured I should run it by you and see what we should do. Anyway, all I’m saying is, you’ve got an opportunity to play nice and get what you want from the elementals without screwing them and yourself over. I’d take it, if I were you.
Step 3: Trolls. And I’m not talking about the guys you know about – the peacemakers with the ambition of soggy wood. No, I’m talking about the big boys. The fellas who made an empire once, long ago. After the death of the Thunder King, they’re in a bad way in terms of leadership, and reduced to grasping at straws. Basically, they’ll take whatever help they can get, I’m sure. And let me tell you, Warchief, these guys mean business. I’ve seen them come out with some of the coolest toys a troll can get his hands on: giant dinosaur mounts, massive golems, even a few loa priests with transformation magic. Hell, you could get a lot of mileage out of them, and by bringing them into the fold, you’d be sending a message to those Darkspear morons that they’re not as needed as they think they are. Plus, you’d not only get rid of one of an ongoing list of enemies for the Horde, you’d also get powerful allies against the Alliance. Genius, huh?
Anyway, let me know how your negotiations go if you decide to give Blackfuse or the Zandas a call. And, uh, on the subject of the elementals, do I have the go-ahead? Be nice to do something more constructive than go brewing and selling the Vial of the Sands all day.
–Grottee Metalbeard, goblin shaman
We now continue with Tuesday mailbag. Because holy fucking SHIT, what the fuck just happened THERE? Where did the last eight pages and twelve hours go, for fuck’s sake?
Look, Grottee – and thank the spirits you had your name on the very last line there, because I sure as fuck wasn’t going to go looking – you might be brilliant and insightful and wise and skillful and loyal and punctual and have impeccable table manners, but DUDE, the FUCK? A mailbag letter should NOT have CHAPTER BREAKS, dude. And look, maybe you think I’m being a little hard on you, and maybe you’re thinking “oh, come on, that gigantic congealed brick of words wasn’t THAT long,” here, allow me to defer to an expert witness who knows a thing or two on the subject. Check this out:
DO YOU SEE THAT? DO YOU? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE FUCKING MAGNITUDE OF THAT SHIT?!
Okay, so, I’m just going to respond to random assorted parts of that, because in all honesty, I think I zoned out about four or five times trying to make my way through that. So here we go.
Goblin tech. Got it. Not a bad idea. I might have to look up this Blackfuse dude. Like I was just telling Glitch back before forty days and forty nights blew on by, goblin tech CAN be handy, and it’s sure as hell a better option than trying our luck on gnomish crap.
So, water elementals. Look, dude, go hang out with the elementals all you want, but don’t hold your breath waiting to get an answer on the whole Neptulon thing. Mark my words, we are never going to find out what the fuck happened to that dude. It’s just going to be one of those crazy mysteries lost to the mists of time, like where Medivh vanished off to, or what creepy shit is going on under Tirisfal Glades (other than the regular ol’ creepy shit that Sylvanas is doing any given Tuesday), or what really happened to Turalyon and Alleria or whoever the fuck. You’re just never going to find out. Either that or you’ll find out somewhere between 4-6 years from now, and at that point the answer’s probably just going to be a giant fucking disappointment anyway.
Meanwhile…the Zandalari. Um…dude, I’ve got enough headaches from the trolls we’ve got, without going out and digging up some more. I mean, fuck, if that’s what I’m going to do, how about I go help Lather-on-us recruit some more fucking hippies into DEHTA and send them an invitation to come hang out in Grommash Hold, and then I can round up some of these goblin mad scientist types and see if they can come up with a way to clone Dontrag and Utvoch, and then how about I log onto Earth Online and try pugging for a couple hours, or until my eyes bleed, whichever comes first (pro tip: smart money takes the under), and then I can put on my snazziest suit and invite Magatha over for afternoon tea. THE FUCK KIND OF OPERATION DO YOU THINK I’M RUNNING HERE?
That said, as much as I’m no fan of trolls, riding around on dinosaurs? THAT’s kind of badass. I might have to see about getting me one of those.
That does it for this time. As always, keep those letters coming.
More soon.
[Keep the letters coming indeed – because next week the Warchief will be cranking out an extra mailbag for this month! So keep your questions, thoughts, and ramblings coming for next Monday!]
Monday mailbag
You know what this is, you know how this works, let’s get right to it.
I heard that you really like bacon. ME TOO! Bacon is the greatest. It’s like candy, but it’s meat. I like meat. I want to try ALL the meat! I tried crocolisk yesterday for the first time and it was really good! It tastes a bit like pork, but more gamey. What’s your favorite meat that’s not bacon? Are there any animals you would like to eat but haven’t had a chance to try yet? Yay, meat!
–Suirohtal, Archdruid of People for the Eating of Tasty Animals
Holy shit, this guy is like Bizarro Lathorius! And also, gotta say, this PETA sounds like something I could totally get behind. So you know what? YAY MEAT INDEED, MY GOOD MAN. I think I like this archdruid a hell of a lot better than the other guy. Speaking of which, if you have an urge to send a giant kodo caravan to Orgrimmar carrying a vast assortment of meats, well, that would be super nifty and keen.
Can’t say I’ve had crocolisk, but if it reminds you of pork, it can’t be half bad. Naturally, nothing beats bacon, but there is no kind of pork that can steer you wrong. Or roasted boar. That’s some damn good eating, too. Basically if it’s a meat that comes from a porcine source, we’re good. Pork is pretty much the alpha meat. (You quillboar better take care not to get on my nerves too much.)
Talbuk and clefthoof are both pretty good, too, by the way. Clefthoof, I’ll have you know, makes for damn good stew meat especially. Keep that in mind next time there’s a cold winter night and you feel like getting big pot of something going over the fire.
Dammit, I’m making myself hungry.
Anyhow. I can’t think of any animals I’d like to eat that I haven’t. I’ve done a fair bit of hunting over the years, so I’ve eaten a lot of different meats. If anything, the thing I’d really like to eat more of would be vegetables. I can’t say I’ve made much of a habit of including them in my diet, and I think it would be pretty great if HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I THOUGHT I COULD GET THAT OUT CLEAN.
Anyway, though, thanks for writing, Suirohtal, and getting the mailbag off to a good start. This bodes well for a fun time this mailbag.
Firstly, my thanks for hearing my plea. I look forward to observing the Alliance reaping what they sowed when they killed my mate.
Secondly, to answer your question, yes, I am related to Shyrka Wolfrunner. You see, she is my cousin – the daughter of my father’s brother. Our family has a tradition of keeping and breeding wolves for mounted travel and combat – not as exciting as the Saurfang warrior line, I know, but one I am no less proud of. I’m told my father maintained the last wolf kennel on Draenor before it was destroyed, working for the Thunderlord Clan while the clans were ruled by Shadowmoon and the fallen Great Shaman, Ner’zhul.
For your wyvern’s new, ahem, ‘habits’, I have a solution. Such stains are easily removed using a solution made from ground-up Fadeleaf and Sungrass. Since the ingredients are found so far apart from each other, I enclose a sample in the flask attached to this letter. With any luck, Overlord Malkorok will no longer have to worry about stains on his boots. To prevent it from happening again, your guards should walk up and down. Animals will not do their business on moving objects.
Finally, if you’re interested, Warchief, I have a wolf you may wish to take for your Kor’kron mounted forces. He is the pride of his litter, one of two pups who are stronger, tougher and more agile than any of their siblings. Most of my wolves are sold to greenhorn adventurers, carrying them across Azeroth on their quests or into the fray in a battleground, but this wolf, Grimjaw, and his younger sister are being held in reserve for special occasions. The younger one, Blackfang, is for my son, a present for when he comes of age. Grimjaw was to be an anniversary present for Detanga, to replace her last wolf who died of old age some time ago, but as you know, that is now a moot point.
I was originally worried about what would happen to my wolvess if any of them were taken to the Kor’kron stables, but before I started writing this my daughter asked me, “Daddy, when will Mummy be coming home from her ‘expitition’?” because I hadn’t the heart to tell her, and nothing has ever hurt me so much as telling her that her mother will never come home, and seeing the tears well up in her eyes, and holding her and her brother to my chest while doing my best not to cry myself.
They deserve to have their mother hold them in her arms and tell them how proud she is of them. I can’t give them that, but if my wolves can bear your warriors into battle so that no more sons and daughters will grow up without a parent, I will have served my Horde well and given Detanga’s spirit cause to rest in peace.
Yours faithfully,
–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master
OH, FUCKING HELL, dude, how many times are you going to bring the damn room down?!
I mean. Um. Yeah, uh, still sorry for the loss of your wife, Ogunaro. And, I mean, that whole story about your wolves, and your daughter, and having to… um… explain what… erm… what happened… and… And hang on, um, I think it must be hayfever season or some shit, I need to… yeah, hold up, I need blow my nose. Or something.
…
AHRRM. OKAY. Fucking weird…there must be something in the air or something. Hrrmph. Ahem. Okay. OKAY.
So.
I appreciate the offer of the wolf, Ogunaro. I’ll be honored to take Grimjaw into the Kor’kron fold. Rest assured, considering what he means to you, he’ll be well taken care of, and as a mater of fact, I’ll make sure he’s groomed for a role of some importance. Now, mind you, I’m already good on mounts – everybody who reads the blog is familiar with Mortimer, obviously, but even on the wolf end of things, I’m covered what with me already having Malak. But… I think I have a job that would suit Grimjaw just fine. Stay tuned.
I know you answered my letter in the last mailbag, but that was a really long time ago. Like, longer than the wait between Winter’s Veil and Noblegarden! Anyway, I thought you’d like another update on my training! I still do the meat shield thing, and boy do things drop super fast when my shield meets their faces! I’m actually in Outland now! Can you believe it?! I even had enough gold to buy my own wyvern from the nice lady in Orgrimmar. I think his name is George. At least, he likes it when I call him that.
Me and George have been having all kinds of fun! We even met a nice zombie man who took us through some smelly dungeons full of red orcs and those snake people so I could learn how to warrior better! He was really cool for being a zombie.
Oh! I even met some brown orcs like you! They didn’t like me at first, but their shaman said she trusted me. Then I said you were my Warchief and they liked me! They even kept me safe from those big robots that roam around!
Anyway, I think this letter’s gone on long enough. Plus George is looking for his wyvern chow.
–Mirembe
PS: I had so many teeth from shield bashing that I made you a necklace to thank you. It has to be better than those silly charm bracelets you get every year!
Hey, Mirembe. Glad the training is coming along. Grats on the wyvern – trust me, you’ll love having one. It takes a little time for you to get used to each other, but once you do, you’ve got yourself a loyal companion for life. They DO seem to have some lame-ass names, though. Don’t know what to make of that.
Anyway, make sure you check in with me before you go back to what’s-her-face to upgrade your flying license and kick George up to the fast lane. I’ll see to it that they hook you up with the trainee discount. The discount being that they charge you with an I.O.U. that they have to come to me personally to collect, in whatever amount they feel comfortable coming to ask me for face-to-face, alone in a closed room, where I have Gorehowl hanging on the wall while I kick back in a chair carved out of a giant skull. Should save you a coin or two.
And hey, sounds like you’re getting in good with the Mag’har. Sweet! If you’re rolling around in Outland helping them out, you’re probably going to wind up in Nagrand before too long. Gotta admit I miss the place…it’s been too long since I’ve been around. When you get there, make sure you look up Greatmother Geyah. She pretty much raised me after my mom died. Sweet lady, definitely get in good with her, but, word of advice? When you talk to her, when she starts asking about your life, don’t volunteer any more information than you have to. Give her too many details to sink her teeth in, and trust me, she will try to greatmother you the fuck to DEATH. Still, tell her I said hi. Also, if you happen to see Jorin Deadeye while you’re out there, tell him I said fuck you. Dude’s a dick. Always gave me a hard time, when we were kids, about Grom being the one who doomed our people. Like HIS dad was any hot shit. Fucker.
And hey, thanks for the necklace. It actually kinda looks like the one I made myself years and years ago. See, it’s a tradition in the Warsong clan to make a necklace from bones or teeth from your earliest kills, carved with ceremonial runes. The teeth from this necklace weren’t from your FIRST kills, right? I wouldn’t want to take those from you – those should be yours. Otherwise, though, awesome. I appreciate the gesture, as long as it’s not stepping on ceremonial toes. Come to think of it, Mira, which clan are you from?
Can’tcha say somethin’ nice ’bout trolls, mon?
–Zim’bobwe, Sen’jinn Village
No.
Okay, okay, fine. Ben-Lin’s been on me to try to be more positive, so maybe if I scrape up something here it’ll shut her the fuck up for ten seconds about me being fucking negative like that shit’s any of her business in the first place. For fuck’s sake.
What was I saying? Oh. Yeah. Fucking trolls.
So, okay, fine. Something nice about trolls. And I’m even going to try not to be snarky and say something like “Well at least they’re mortal so I know they’ll die eventually.” Even though that’s totally true, and a definite plus. Where was I again? Fuck, I’m losing focus a lot today. Might have had too much kafa. Anyway.
So yeah. Something nice about trolls. So okay, here we go.
Those motherfuckers can dance. Like they’ve got moves like nobody’s business. Especially some of those troll girls, because…you know what? I don’t like trolls as a general rule, but…every so often, you have to entertain exceptions.
Yeah, yeah, fine, give me looks. Check ’em out sometime. NO JURY WOULD CONVICT ME.
After your recent (and highly illuminating) live blog, I decided to look into this Ask.fm site you’d mentioned. After entertaining a handful of questions though, something strange started happening. Some anonymous person or people seemed determined to keep asking me questions that weren’t really questions, just requests for “Pap of house,” “Pap of your room,” and maybe most distressing “Pap of feet.” I have no idea what they’re asking. You seem to be more familiar with internet customs than I am Warchief – what does this “pap” mean, and why is this person so interested in it? And what does it have to do with my feet??
–Disturbed In Durotar
Oh geez.
Welcome to the world of internet jackassery, DID. If this is your first encounter with it, congratulations on logging on to the internet for the first time ever this week.
So…the “PAP” thing. Yeah. I get this, too. So apparently, it’s an acronym, only I don’t really want to call it an acronym because “acronym” sounds like something that should be at least marginally smart rather than the soul-bleeding exhibition of stupid that almost invariably goes hand-in-hand with this little gem. But I guess it’s supposed to stand for “Post A Picture.” So the people you’ve heard from apparently want to see your house, your room, and your feet, and honest to fuck I couldn’t even take a guess at which of those you should be more fucking disturbed about. Maybe your feet. But I guess that might depend on how much cool stuff you’ve got at your house that these fuckers might try to break in and steal.
You know what? No. It’s the feet thing. Because seriously, internet freak shows, seriously.
Speaking of which, kind of. Like I said, I’ve gotten these “PAP” questions a lot, too. Like, relentlessly. And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one. And I know I’ve made this point on Ask.fm before, but on the off chance any of these PAP-spamming fucknoses are reading this now, I’d like to take a moment here to address them directly:
Good evening, wastes of life.
I can understand why you value efficiency. I get it. I really do. You people clearly have rich, busy lives, skulking around in your caves and musing over what it would be like if someone could invent some magical substance that would remove the stink from your assorted crevices with the mere addition of water. Maybe they could package the stuff in solid cakes small enough to hold in one hand. I’m just spitballing here.
Point is, you want to be time-efficient because you’ve got shit to do. You can’t burn up your whole afternoon search-and-pecking your way through whole words, because dammit, you’ve got business to tend to on the internet, and if you can’t cut a few corners on questions you’re voluntarily posting to people who don’t give a fuck about you, well then, that’s less time you can devote to running around posting other comments like, say:
Because then who the fuck is going to illustrate irony for people so they can understand what it is? Or maybe you need to get around to your blog reading so you can offer incisive commentary like:
Because FUCK THAT GUY, THAT’S WHY. FUCK HIM IN THE ASS WITH A PITCHFORK-MOUNTED JACKHAMMER. POINT BEING. You’ve got shit to do and you don’t have time to waste writing out whole words like “for” and “you” and “are,” and spirits fucking save us if you ever need to say “you are,” because now we’re getting into your/you’re territory and at that point holy shit ALL bets are fucking off.
So I get it. I do. You’ve got places to go (virtually) and people to meet (i.e., to yell at online with a raging bitterness despite never having met these people in reality) and you can’t have trivial things like keystrokes and complete words standing between you and your complete and utter worthlessness as a living being.
Here’s the thing.
And I can’t stress this enough.
YOU’RE NOT EVEN SAVING YOURSELF ANY FUCKING KEYSTROKES WITH THE FUCKING “PAP” THING. You can just type “pic” and ask the same damn thing, and still use the exact same number of letters. IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME, LOOK, WE’LL COUNT TOGETHER. ONE, TWO, THREE – the number of letters in “PAP.” ONE, TWO, THREE – the number of letters in “pic.” ONE, TWO, THREE – your total number of IQ points. SEE HOW IT ALL WORKS OUT? WERE YOU ABLE TO FOLLOW THAT DEMONSTRATION OR DO I NEED TO GET A FUCKING PURPLE SAN’LAYN PUPPET IN HERE TO TAKE YOU THROUGH IT AGAIN?
And hey, guess what, while you’re at it saying “pic” like a normal person who hasn’t been beaten in the head with a brick for six hours straight by everyone who’s ever lived plus six more guys, you also have the ADDED bonus of NOT reminding people of a fucking medical procedure that NO ONE HAS EVER HAD HAPPY ASSOCIATIONS WITH EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVER.
So listen – if you have “PAP” as part of your functional vocabulary, here’s what you need to do. Go get a chisel. Now grab onto the fucker real real tight – like imagine the chisel is your dick and you just found footage online of someone being really unhappy and you’re getting ready to jerk off to that shit, because FUCK YOU – and jam that chisel right up into your brain and shove it around until you’ve scraped all memory of this “PAP” shit right the fuck out of there forever. Okay? Stop it. Just stop it. “PAP” us no more “PAPs.” ENOUGH ALREADY. ENOUGH. KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF, AND I HOPE YOU DIE.
I’m glad we had this little talk.
More soon.
Next mailbag May 4! E-mail garrosh1337@gmail.com or submit your message below:
Contrary to what you surely believe…
…I live! Well, I live, as in me, Averry. Garrosh…kinda lives? Only he doesn’t? Except…he still does, here? Until he doesn’t. It’s…it’s complicated. You get the idea.
POINT BEING. I’m still here! While I hadn’t intended to go quiet for so long, it was partly by design that the blog went on an unofficial break during the holidays. My plan was to take a little time off from posting and to use some of that down time to get material prepared for when I was ready to start up again. My hope was that doing so would benefit everyone involved: for readers, fewer long gaps between posts, since updates would be at least partially prepared in advance; and for me, a bit of relief from the constant self-imposed pressure to keep the production line going as quickly as (or maybe even more quickly that) I can. As much as I enjoy writing and drawing the blog, it felt at times last year like I was putting down railroad tracks while the train is coming up behind me — as soon as I would finish a post, as soon as it would go up on the site, my thoughts would immediately go to “Okay, hurry up, get the next one done, get the next one done.” After a while, that can make an otherwise fun experience into something draining. That’s not good for me, but it’s also not good for all of you, who deserve to get the best quality of work I can manage when you come here.
So, I decided to give myself a sabbatical over the holidays, which ended up carrying on for longer than I’d intended. I’ve been keeping busy during that time, though, and have managed to get quite a bit in the pipeline to go live. I don’t want to name specific dates here and now, only because I have a couple more very specific benchmarks that I want to clear before I resume the blog’s storyline, just to make sure I don’t stumble into a new delay. But NEW STUFF is imminent (and we’re talking about a matter of days, not weeks)! So, in the interest of stirring you all up and whetting your appetites, you will soon get to look forward to…
- Mokvar’s saga concludes! We’ll be seeing the rest of what befell everyone’s favorite shaman-turned-warlock scribe at the hands of Kanrethad and Jubeka, then how the whole expedition to Blackrock Spire ends.
(Not without a surprise or two…)
- Garrosh’s Earth Online guild, <Warchief>, has its first raid night! Listen in on the happenings in guild chat when the 10-man team marches into the notorious Earth Online raid, Black Friday!
- Remember years ago during Children’s Week, when you escorted that blood elf orphan
around the world, and eventually learned she was being adopted by Lady Liadrin? Well, Salandria is a teenager now, and is about to join the ever-expanding supporting cast. (Shayari needs a peer to hang out with, right?)
- Not to get too far ahead of ourselves, but after dropping the ball during last April’s National Poetry Month, the Warchief has plans for this year. EPIC VERSE on the way…and, throughout the month of April, no shortage of it!
- Naturally, interspersed through all of this will be more “30 Days” character profiles — and for our next one, you even get a say in who gets spotlighted. Take your pick of supporting characters, and make your voices heard:
- It’s been far too long since the Warchief dipped into his reader mail, so expect a new mailbag soon — in fact, you should make a point of contributing! E-mail Garrosh at garrosh1337@gmail.com with your thoughts, questions, or general goofiness! And, to make sure the ever-popular mailbags don’t have any more long gaps, I’m committing to a schedule for them going forward: the first Monday of each month, you can look forward to a “Monday mailbag” post. But remember, the quality of Garrosh’s responses hinges on the quality of his mail — so get thinking!
- Speaking of responding to reader inquiries… mark your calendar! To kick off the “restart” of the blog, Garrosh will be fielding your questions on many and sundry topics, live (sort of) and in person (kind of) this Sunday night (February 15) — in an “ASK GARROSH” LIVE BLOG! Starting at 8:30 PM EST, the Warchief will respond to questions submitted by you, his LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS, on the spot as they come in. You can send your inquiries through e-mail, on Twitter (@GarroshHllscrm), via Garrosh’s page at Ask.fm, or through comments on the live blog page itself. What you shouldn’t do, though, is send them in advance — once the live blog begins, I’ll be (um, I mean, Garrosh will be) responding to questions completely on the fly, sans preparation. Let’s see what I can come up with on the spot, and/or how badly I fall on my face!
I know 2014 was a rather rough and uneven year for WCB. I appreciate all of you hanging in there, and the continued support and friendship I’ve received from many of you. Granted, 2015 is off to something of a belated start, but hopefully I’m in a position to stay on top of things better than I had been. (Very likely, I’ll continue to build occasional posting breaks into the blog to let me get a jump on things again, but I’ll try to be better about letting you all know when those will be.) Garrosh’s adventures continue…and, frankly, I can’t say I’m all that disappointed that drawn-out posting is keeping him alive in the blogosphere well past his in-game expiration date. He’s a character I would never want to live with, but he’s way too fun to live in.
Be seeing you,
Averry
Monday mailbag
I arrived a couple days ago here at the Sanctum of Two Moons, and I’ve been getting settled in and learning the lay of the land since then. While we have a little break in the action, I figured this might be a good time to dip into the ol’ mailbag…
To Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde:
Call off the search patrols! I’m ok!
I know everyone must have been sick with worry the last few months since my sudden disappearance, (my colleagues up in Northrend must have been particularly disturbed by my absence); however, I can reassure you all that I am finally safe and sound.
Where have I been, you might ask? Ah, friend, that is a tale indeed! A tale of wonder and adventure! I was swimming with the Orca folk in the northern oceans and discovered a new shape-shifting technique that permitted me to assume the very form of a noble whale person myself. Wearing my new visage, I was able to communicate with them in their own language — a very melodious tongue with beautiful but complex rules of grammar — and became assimilated into their culture.
Engrossed in my cetacean studies, I lost track of time and eventually track of my own self. I forgot my previous life as a Night Elf and the thought of living on land became as alien to me as the thought of drinking fire would be to any but a fire elemental. I lived as a whale; I laughed as a whale; I loved as a whale; and finally I migrated south with the rest of my pod.
O! What a journey that was! The tales I could tell of the fantastical denizens of the deep! But alas! I have not the space here to elaborate further. (Look for my upcoming book on my experiences, working title: “Darling it’s Better Down Where it’s Wetter”.)
But all good things must come to an end. There was an enormous storm, the violence of which penetrated even the depths of the sea. I was separated from my pod and flung about at the mercy of the waves. At last I was washed up on dry land and lay helplessly beached, drying out in the sun. I looked death in the eye that day and all hope left me. At last I fell unconscious and lay senseless on the shore.
When I came to I was surrounded by curious creatures. They looked like some sort of Furbolg, but were covered with black and white fur from head to toe and called themselves “Pandaren”. They clothed me and helped me to my feet, at which point I realized that I was a Night Elf again. All my memories came flooding back. I was my full self once more.
I spent a few days in the care of these kind Pandaren. They told me many fascinating stories about this previously unknown land and informed me that many other peoples from both the Horde and the Alliance had recently arrived and made contact with them. And so I am writing you this missive to allay your fears about my welfare.
Also, could you please lend me a small amount of gold and arrange transportation for me back to Northrend? I seem to have misplaced all my possessions. Thanks.
–Arch Druid Lathorius, D.E.H.T.A.
Huh. Okay, so…I’m going to set aside the fact that Lather-on-us here seems to think he and I are buddies or something, because hey, as long as he thinks I can stand the sight of him, maybe that helps tone down the whining and complaining and protesting every time I try to eat a ham on rye.
So setting that aside… Dude, you were missing? Was I supposed to notice that shit?
Actually, come to think of it, you WERE all AWOL that time I went to check in with your DEHTA flunkies, weren’t you? But man, that was AGES ago – were you seriously out mucking around with the fishes all that time?
Still, funny that you would wind up landing in the same place that everyone else has been converging on lately. Especially since it’s the same place that was hidden and cloaked in mists and totally unreachable and inaccessible to anyone for every and ever for like thousands of years until everybody and their uncle started winding up there like a month ago. I would say it’s what all the cool kids are doing, but, you know, that doesn’t really help explain YOU being here. Or Varian. Or…well, pretty much anyone other than me. But whatever. OH HEY, actually, you know one other cool kid who HAS turned up here in Pandaria? Hemet Nesingwary! You know him, right? Small world.
As for the gold… Yeah, um, I think you’re gonna need to scrape together cab fare for yourself. I gave at the office. Maybe see if you can do some busywork for the Anglers in exchange for a little pocket change?
I’m guessing your blog has been lagging behind while you venture into Pandaria. I recently encountered you in the Shrine of Two Moons during your visit. Unfortunately, I was under the influence of a Blingtron 4000, and looked like a human instead of a proud Horde member. See the attached photos for how poorly this went for me.
Enjoy the rest of your trip!
–WookieeBH
Yeesh, dude, what’s up with the “lagging behind” shit, I only just got here a couple days ago. I do remember you, though, Wookiee – among the many random asshats who swung by to make my day more tedious, you and your little getup were especially asshattery. Although I did kind of get a chuckle out of it when your dog or hyena or whatever took a dump on Malkorok’s boots. Dude gets so grumpy about things. Heh.
Anyway, as you can see from the pictures, I’ve been hanging out at the Sanctum of Two Moons for the past couple days, which let me tell you is a pretty boss place. Unfortunately, I only had a couple hours to enjoy it before I was joined by – as you can also see from the pictures – our old friend Regent-Lord Hair-Care. Whose mood, by the way, hasn’t improved much lately. Only, get this – in light of some of the slapping-around I’ve had to give him lately, now he feels the need to bring company everywhere he goes:
This would be Ellendra Palescorn…his bodyguard.
Yes, his bodyguard.
I swear, only among the blood elves would it go over as a plan to be like, “You know, I really need someone to help keep my scrawny, twiggy ass safe”…and then hire someone scrawnier and twiggier.
Thank goodness they’re good at magic, is all I’m gonna say.
I still can’t believe Vol’jin be dead, mon! But I betcha he always gonna he wit us in spirit. I can practically feel his spirit wit me now, mon – it’s almost like he be right here writin’ dis letter wit me!
I know ya got ya Kor’kron people down here in de Echo Isles ta keep us safe, mon, but I don’ be likin’ dis Gul’tar guy dey got in charge. I’m tellin’ ya, sometin’ bad gonna happen wit day guy! If ya be askin’ me, I tink ya betta keep a close eye on what he goin’ on down here. Wouldn’t want sometin’ slippin’ between da cracks, ya know, mon?
–Bob, Echo Isles
Oh, great, this guy again. And so of course, just as soon as I get ONE grumbling troll out of my hair, ANOTHER one pops up to take his place. Almost like Vol’jin isn’t gone at all, indeed.
Actually, come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve mentioned that before, so just in case you’ve been living under a rock the last couple weeks…you remember that mission I’d sent Vol’jin on when he first got to Pandaria? Yeah. Didn’t go so well for him. Boo hoo. Moving on.
So anyway, Bobbo, sorry if you don’t like the cut of Gul’tar’s jib, whatever a jib is, but you know what? I’m not going to waste my time trying to micromanage every move my people make down there. If Gul’tar needs anything, I’m pretty certain he’ll let me know, and if anything important is going on there, I’m damn sure they’ll send word to me about it. So until I hear something from them, I’ll be keeping my nose out of the goings-on down in the Echo Isles, which is a good thing what with the smell down there because WTF are you trolls burning all the time anyway?
(the parchment appears to have been chewed on a bit on one corner and has a few smears of dark mud at the bottom)
Hail Warchief!
I am writing to you to apply for the position of scribe. I have been taught in the very best tents of Thunder Bluff. I am a tauren, albeit a bit small, and that wet dog smell is a condition I have. Some say I appear to be wearing a badly made tauren suit, but that’s hurtful because I got these stitches in service to the Horde! I wish to put my skills to use serving my Warchief! I feel that I would be best suited for this position given my extensive linguistic skills and utter loyalty. After all, you can’t be too careful these days. There could be Alliance spies anywhere. As a professional tracker I could help with this also. Afterall, it’d be ashamed if anything….happened. I hope my Warchief finds me worthy of being right by his side.
–Legit Tauren Scribe
Hey, LTS, thanks for writing in. I’m glad people are still showing interest in the scribe position after that…erm…mixed-results audition thing. Right now I think I’m going to see how things work out with Gurtash covering the scribing, in his own doodly sort of way, but I’ll definitely keep you in line. It wouldn’t hurt at all to have a couple competent backup options, in case the kid gets too busy with other assignments or what-have-you. That said, with any luck it won’t be too long before Mokvar’s back on the job, assuming we can get his weird-ass marked-for-death situation under wraps sometime soon.
Reporting in re: your special assignment. As per your request, have been maintaining stealthed surveillance on Mokvar in order to provide additional protection in light of recent attacks.
Have come across unexpected complications.
While in Winterspring with his panda friend, Mokvar was seen meeting with an unidentified human woman. The two seemed very familiar; shortly thereafter embarked together on journey to Darkwhisper Gorge. Seen scouring cave formerly occupied by now-deceased imp. Appeared to be searching for something; overheard references to relic of some kind, demonic power, domination of wills.
Will continue to monitor Mokvar’s activities and continue protection against attackers until further instructions received.
–Garona Halforcen, Everlook
The…FUCK?
So hang on, I worry about Mokvar’s safety to the point that I assign one of the best rogues in the business to follow his ass around and look out for him while I’m away…and THIS is what I get for it? Meeting up with some HUMAN? Sneaking around trying to do spirits know WHAT?
Yeah, this…this is NOT going to be good for my mood, let me tell you that right now.
In fact, I think on that note it’s time for me to step away from the computer for a few. And possibly go smack someone or something around for a little while.
More soon.
Monday mailbag
Well it looks like we’re finally back to mail that’s just for ME, now that the bottomless pile of Saurfang fan mail is out of the way. So, let’s get right to it…
This is an open letter to the Archdruids Malfurion Stormrage and Lathorius. It involves the former’s recent mistreatment of a Flameward Hippogryph.
I don’t really have a “day job” as such. I do odd jobs for people like the Dragonmaw Clan, the Protectors of Hyjal, and I’m good enough to earn a fairly decent living at it. Lately, that’s involved a fair bit of time on the Molten Front. Archdruid Stormrage recently saw fit to reward my service with a gift of sorts. Anyway, I get home to my Silvermoon pad one day, and there’s a package waiting for me. I said “package”, it was actually more like a crate, with air holes in it. The postmarks read, “Mount Hyjal”, then “Darnassus”, then “Ratchet”, then “Booty Bay”, and finally, “Silvermoon”. Goblin Post, Fourth Rate. It was at this point that I noticed a whimpering coming from inside the crate.
Now, this is going to sound damned odd coming from a man who joined up with the Blood Knights back when the first lesson on the syllabus was “How To Punch A Captive Naaru In The Jumblies”, but…
Stormrage, you sick bastard, WHAT THE HELL, MAN?!? What on Azeroth possessed you to decide that this was a good idea? Surely, you could have sent it Express. Or, you probably know a mage or two. Or, left a note that I could pick him up next time I was over by Nordrassil. But Goblin Post? Fourth Rate? That’s just WRONG.
Then again, I have no idea why I’m surprised. What else would you expect of a man who’d stand by examining his fingernails while forty Horde raiders curb-stomp his wife?
For what it’s worth, Ted’s doing great. (I named him for Tederastrasz, a dragon I met over in Twilight Highlands.) I don’t normally like to ride animals. I usually prefer the throaty roar of a pair of Yoyodyne-Gadgetzan turboprops and the rhythmic thump of a well-balanced rotor shaft. And the occasional autorotative descent into hostile territory? Just part of the spice that makes life worth living. But now I feel obliged to take Ted out for as much fresh air and sunshine as possible, and I have to say, I’m growing fond of his company. He still flinches a bit when he sees a crate, but he’s just about gotten over that.
Anyway, Lathorius? Your shan’do Stormrage could use a stern talking-to.
–A Concerned Citizen
Good to hear from you as always, ACC. Gotta say, that really is pretty sick, not to mention pretty surprising, considering how old Antlers McBeardyface likes to play himself up as like Grand Master Nature Boy Ultra. I mean, listen, I’m not going to lie to you. It’s no secret that I’m not above a little tough love when it comes to Horde mounts, for purposes of promoting discipline and the kind of toughness that the military life calls for. But I can also tell you, in no uncertain terms, every one of our worgs, kodos, wyverns, whatever, gets three squares a day, plenty of water, and at least enough room to stretch its legs and move around some. Not to mention that when they finally come up for retirement, they get an enormous feast before we slice them up into chops.
But yeah, taking an animal like that and shipping it around by slow mail in a crate? That’s just sick. Especially when you consider how much care those goblins DON’T take to observe the “Handle With Care” labels. Dude, you should have SEEN the shape my Champions of the Horde commemorative plates were in by the time they got to me, and those were even shipped THIRD class. I’m still looking for all the pieces of Rexxar. I don’t even want to THINK of what the fourth rate treatment would be.
Hopefully Lather-on-us will get right on this. He’d BETTER, actually, considering how quick he always is to get on my ass for something way less than this. All I’m gonna say is if he lets this thing slide with Antlers, I better not be getting another protest in my front yard the next time I order the veal.
Personally, if it were ME, I’d probably suggest keeping an eye on old Antlers until the next time he goes More Than Meets the Eye into one of his kajillion animal forms, then throw a net on him, shuffle him off into a nice tight crate, then ship him Super Slow Take Your Effing Time rate to his priestess chick. (Bonus points if she’s not able to sign for the package because she’s too busy getting curb-stomped at the time.)
Anyway, ACC, I’m glad you’re having a good time with Ted. Rescue mounts can have their quirks, no question about it, but over time it does get better, once they’ve had time to realize that they’re safe now. And remember, yeah, those roflcopters are cool and all, but a roflcopter can’t love.
By the same token, a roflcopter can’t get explosive diarrhea all over your new monogrammted sheets that your Greatmother sent you for your birthday. But life’s all about trade-offs, right?
Being that you are easier to contact than your predecessor, I thought this an appropriate time to place my thoughts, as it were, upon your plate. In particular, I wish to discuss your support for our efforts in Silithus.
While I realise that Kalimdor is a large continent and that Silithus is perhaps the most inhospitable and inaccessible area thereon, it remains a hotbed of activity for the Twilight’s Hammer cult. You yourself have seen this most recently, and I have had it impressed upon me that your recent requests for the stepping up of border patrols are vital to your present plans to deal with the Hammer. And so my druids and I will do all that we can, but… we are stretched thin.
In the time since the defeat of C’Thun, the flow of adventurers to this barren land has slowed to a trickle, and yet the Hammer becomes ever heavier, poised above these shifting sands. Why, I recently discovered that visitors to my command have of late been greeted by a representative of the Horde, who offers free magical transportation in order that your supporters might fight in some meaningless skirmish in a swamp on the other side of the world! Why can this service not be provided in order to send more aid to us in our time of need?
The sands of Silithus have seen much, but they are unique in Azeroth and still have much to offer to the brave. With the Cenarion druids largely occupied by certain troubles in Hyjal, I cannot even request aid from them. I am honour-bound to this post, and cannot abandon it. I am told that you value honour deeply. Will you then aid us?
–Commander Mar’alith, Silithus
Hey, Mar’alith, good to hear from you again. Also thanks for your help keeping the Twilight’s Hammer contained recently.
From the looks of it, your letter actually came in right about the same time I went out of commission for a little while, so hopefully in the intervening time things have gotten a little better. From what Saurfang tells me, while he was minding the shop, he came by with a few thousand friends and did a fair bit of Twilight smacking, so hopefully that put a dent in the problem. Still, I know those cultists can be like roaches – no matter how many you kill, there always seems to be tons more of them. (And you know, you wouldn’t really expect there to be THAT many crazy despairing suicidal lunatics ready to sign on to help destroy the world, would you? I mean, even if you assume the cult has a frigging amazing recruiting division, would you really figure they’d be able to drum up thousands upon thousands of these people like they do? Kind of makes you wonder about the world’s collective parenting skills, that we’ve got THAT many people turning out THAT damaged.)
I’ll try to do what I can for you, Mar’alith. As it stands, I put an announcement on all the command boards in Orgrimmar and Thunder Bluff encouraging adventurers to head your way and help out, but apparently that hasn’t been having much of an effect. I’ll double check the boards to make sure the notices are visible enough – with my luck, the announcements got covered by someone’s ad for a futon for sale or guitar lessons or something, with the little straggly rip-off pieces at the bottom with the contact info.
Thing is, though, I’m not sure there’s a whole lot we can do to get people to head down to Silithus voluntarily. Sure, there’s the portal transport thing you mentioned, but when you come right down to it, it’s not like getting to Silithus is much more of a nuisance than traveling to Tanaris or Un’goro Crater or, hell, even Felwood. I’m not going to lie to you, Mar’alith, your place down there is just plain creepy. Lots of people get a bad case of the skitters just running a few errands around the Writhing Deep or the Slithering Scar – and Silithus is like one giant Slithering Scar turned up to eleven. People go there and then spend the next two weeks scratching because they keep imagining things crawling on them. Combine that with the fact that, let’s face it, it’s not exactly a treat for the eyes down there either, and come on…how many people do you really think we’re going to get down there rather than, say, walking in a Winterspring wonderland? I mean, hell, by the time most of our adventurers are strong enough to be much help to you down there, they’re usually all fired up to push righ on past Silithus and head out to Thrallmar in Outland. Seriously, have you ever BEEN to Hellfire Peninsula? Do you really understand the magnitude of people basically being like “Yay, Hellfire Peninsula!” rather than sticking around Silithus?
I’m open to ideas, but I’m thinking that pot’s going to have to be WAY sweeter before we see a whole lot of improvement…
Can anybody be explainin’ what “Dranosh” means?
–Bob, Echo Isles
No no no no, dude, you’ve gotta know better than to ask about that shit, all you’re going to do is open up a—
If you will pardon the interruption, Warchief, I believe I can field this inquiry. I suspect our elocutionarily eccentric correspondent is asking about the roots of the name of my dear, departed son.
Oh fuck, here we go. Again.
If you will allow me. Ahem.
We named him Dranosh. It means “Heart of Draenor” in orcish.
Okay, well that answers that question. Thanks for clearing that up, Saurfang, now we can—
I would not let the warlocks take him. My boy would be safe, hidden away by the elders of Garadar.
I made a promise to his mother before she died; that I would cross the Dark Portal alone – whether I lived or died, my son would be safe. Untainted…
Yeah, okay, terrific, that worked out just fantastic for all involved. Hey, hang on a second, how did you even get in here anyway? The fuck is this? You said when you gave the keys back you were just going to head back up to Northrend and not interfere with the goings-on back here with me.
Today, I fulfill that promise.
I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE. But I’m serious, how the hell are you even doing this? SPAZZLE!
Yeah, chief? What’s up?
I’ll TELL you what’s up, tech guy – Saurfang’s in here screwing around with the blog. I thought you had some kind of fucking security on this shit.
Huh, that’s weird. I’m not sure how he’d be able to—
I meant no offense, Warchief. It merely seemed the inquiry lent itself to an account of my own personal experience, and I felt as such it might be a boon to you…
Yes, Garrosh, he was only trying to help.
Hang on, wait a minute, who the fuck is THIS now?
Do you not recognize me, Warchief? You wound me. Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, at your service as always.
SYLVANAS?!
A pleasure to see you again, Dark Lady.
Hold on, you know her now?
And you as well, High Overlord. Congratulations once again on your successful albeit short-lived stewardship of the Horde. I was most gratified that the other Horde leaders were so quick to agree with my suggestion that you would be an ideal interim Warchief.
As I am gratified by the faith you all showed in me, Dark Lady.
Where do you know HER from?
Do you not recall, Warchief? I too served in Northrend during our triumphant campaign against the Lich King. I had occasion to meet Overlord Saurfang in the late stages of our campaign.
Ohhh, that’s right, you WERE up there, weren’t you? See, I forgot about that, seeing as Saurfang and I were spending most of our time on the whole successfully-taking-down-Arthas operation, as opposed to how you were mostly concentrating on the sneak-in-the-side-door-then-run-from-Arthas-like-a-little-girl wing.
Again you wound me, Warchief.
And hold on, how the fuck are YOU in here too?
In the blog? I hacked admin.
You what now?
You what now?
That’s what I said, only less green.
Just as I said. I hacked admin. ^_^
Oh man, hold on, I need to go check the IP’s again…
You hacked your way onto the blog? The fuck?
I’m not sure why you should be so shocked, Warchief. I’ve done this many times before. Not on your blog specifically, of course, but…
Haha, this is awesome.
Oh for FUCK’s sake, who’s THIS now?
What, you don’t recognize me either, filthy orc?
Oh crap, I can tell this is going to mean all kinds of overtime. I was just getting my rotation down on Earth Online, too…
WHO IS THIS?
Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, you brainless half-wit!
OMG WTF
Yeaahhh, this is gonna mean a whole big system overhaul… So much for me trying to save some money on firewalls…
You seriously think I don’t keep an eye on you and your Horde devils?
Fuck you, Varian.
Indeed, Dark Lady!
Stay out of this, witch!
Wait, what? I didn’t say that.
Who did, then?
That was me.
Why was it purple, then? I’m using the purple.
For fuck’s sake, do you not READ the blog?
He’s got a point there.
My text ALWAYS goes purple when I say “Fuck you, Varian.” SEE? It’s like a running thing, I’ve been doing it for months!
But I’m using the purple now. It’s my color. Would it have been so bad not to use purple just this once, for the sake of not confusing people needlessly?
Hold on, are you actually bitching that my choice of text color isn’t showing adequate consideration FOR THE PEOPLE WHO ARE SOMEHOW HACKING THEIR WAY INTO MY BLOG EDITOR?
He’s kind of got you there, too.
Not the editor. I hacked admin. We’ve been over this.
I seriously never get tired of watching you vile creatures fight amongst yourselves.
You would be wise to watch yourself, King Varian.
I would expect at least a little courtesy from you, Saurfang, from one father to another.
I have already addressed this with you, Highness. I will not stand by while the Horde is insulted, however much I may appreciate the kindness you once showed to me over my son.
Dranosh, wasn’t it?
Indeed.
Is that a family name or something?
OH FUCK NOT AGAIN
Not as such. It means “Heart of Draenor” in orcish.
Ask him about the warlocks.
WHOSE FUCKING SIDE ARE YOU ON?!
What about the warlocks?
DAMMIT SYLVANAS!
I would not let the warlocks take him. My boy would be safe, hidden away by the elders of Garadar.
WE’VE ALREADY BEEN THROUGH THIS LIKE EIGHT TIMES
Apologies, Warchief, but…it’s just so easy!
Still not as easy as everybody on the whole fucking internet breaking into my BLOG, though, apparently!
I know, I know, I’m already changing my sign-up status for the alt raid this weekend… <sigh>
Look at it this way, Saurfang: your son died honorably for an honorable cause, far better than most of your kind. At least this way he can be spared a far worse end when your empire of villainy falls to the Alliance.
Also, I like to talk really tough because I think that way no one will suspect what a small penis I have.
Oh and I have trouble getting it up ever since Benedictus bad-touched me in the confessional booth when I was an altar boy.
WHAT THE HELL I DIDN’T SAY THAT
It certainly looks like you did. <guffaw>
I have it on fairly good authority that’s a true story, too.
I DID NOT SAY ANY SUCH THING YOU DEVILS!
Oh did I mention how I couldn’t perform at all until Tiffy-Wiffy took me home and played dress-up for me?
OMG YOU LEAVE TIFFIN OUT OF THIS!!!
<giggle>
Oh hey YOU’RE making him say that?
You are? How, Dark Lady?
Admin. ^_^
SEE? SEE? I’VE ALWAYS SAID YOU HORDE ARE EVIL!
Behind closed doors I like to wear dresses!
DAMN YOU, SYLVANAS! THE HELL WITH YOU ALL, I’M LOGGING OFF!
Hee! ^_^
Okay, you know what, that was totally worth it.
Indeed it was an amusing diversion, albeit immature; but I suppose you young folk need find your pleasures in your own way. And with that, Warchief, I believe I shall take my leave.
From the blog you mysteriously popped into through some means I still don’t know what the fuck they were? Yeah, okay.
A good day to you, Warchief. Honor go with us all.
Gotta admit, much as I’m still pretty pissed that you were able to hack in here so easily like that—
I know, I know, I’m clearing out next week too…
—what you did to Varian there was pretty awesome. You might not be so bad after all, Sylvanas.
Thank you, dear Warchief. While I’m here, incidentally, might we take a moment to review my concerns about the conduct of Captain Bloodfist?
Not right now, Sylvanas. It’s been a long day, okay? We can get into it another time soon.
As you wish, Warchief. In that case, I’ll leave you to your mailbag and return to my work here in the Undercity.
Yeah, you do that, Sylvanas. Luckily, that was the last letter for this week, and it’s probably a good thing too, since I don’t know if I’m in a mood to deal with any more weirdness in one day. So I think it’s time to wrap this up for today. I’ll post again soon, everyone.
Also don’t forget I don’t really have the faintest idea what I’m doing, and the Horde probably would have been better off staying under Saurfang. But at least I’m easily influenced.
~_^
Monday mailbag
Remind me not to do the Greatfather Winter thing for the orphanage again. First of all, nobody tells you how damn uncomfortable that getup is. Seriously, would it have killed them to find some material to make it from that DIDN’T feel like sandpaper? And meanwhile…okay, some of the kids were fine. A lot of them are pretty cute, and I suppose I should be generous what with it being the holidays, and their being orphans, and the fact that a pretty good chunk of them even got to be orphans in the first place because of battles I sent their parents off to fight in, but still! OMG the SCREAMING from some of these brats! On and on and on with the screaming and the screeching, and there were two of them who really took the cake, I don’t think they ever stopped going the whole time, till eventually I started calling them Dontrag and Utvoch Jrs. in my head.
Anyway, that’s done, so hopefully it will get Eitrigg off my back about his community service kick for a while.
Now for the mail. Just one letter this time, but it’s a doozy.
To Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde:
I wish to congratulate you on behalf of everyone at D.E.H.T.A. on your recent embrace of a healthier – and far more ethical – lifestyle. I admit, I had nearly given you up as a lost cause, so imagine my surprise and delight upon being informed that you have seen the error of your ways and publicly committed to eliminating meat from your diet! We at D.E.H.T.A. are all very proud of you.
To show our support of your decision, we have compiled a care package (which you shall find on the kodo caravan accompanying this letter). It’s nothing too extravagant, just a selection of delicious fruits, vegetables, nuts and legumes from every region in Azeroth, a sampler of 25 different types of tofu, as well as several cases of exotic spices. To further assist you I have also enclosed a complimentary autographed copy of my (now sadly out of print) cookbook Sustenance Without Suffering – 519 Delectable Vegan Recipes Guaranteed to Tickle Your Tongue While Soothing Your Conscience, as well as my (likewise out of print) companion guide From the Field to Your Face – The Complete Buyer’s Guide to Azerothian Agriculture Including Detailed Information About What to Buy, When to Buy it, and From Whom. (Unfortunately I haven’t had a chance to update the second book post-Cataclysm, so be careful about ordering produce from non-existent locations.)
In addition, we would like to grudgingly commend you for your various initiatives to improve the lot of the poor enslaved Wyvern taxis in your service. Although true emancipation remains elusive, (and we will never be satisfied until it has been attained!), we have noticed that working conditions are better and rest breaks are more frequent. Most notably, Mortimer appears content to remain in your service and assures us that your treatment of him has vastly improved. (We remain skeptical on this point, but there is no arguing with him. Seriously. His claws are sharp!)
Finally, I would like to personally extend a metaphorical olive branch and issue an invitation for you to join D.E.H.T.A. for brunch in the Borean Tundra at your convenience. We have many other agenda items regarding the care of Azeroth’s most vulnerable citizens (the animals) which we would like to discuss with you. Also, certain rare edible lichens are just coming into season, but sadly they do not ship very well and we could not include them in your care package. I promise it will be a taste experience you will not soon forget.
Sincerely,
–Arch Druid Lathorius, D.E.H.T.A.
Hoo boy.
Okay, so first of all, let me tell you, when he says he’s sending a “care package” of fruits and vegetables and shit, he’s totally downplaying the fucking VOLUME of stuff. Notice how he slipped in that little mention of a kodo caravan in parentheses there, like it was just a side note? Yeah. You would not BELIEVE the size of this fucking caravan. They started marching on into Orgrimmar, and by the time the chain of them had gotten from the front gate up to Grommash Hold, and started circling around, they weren’t even halfway done. Eventually while I was watching them come in, I started looking around in the sky for fucking Nozdormu, because I thought there HAD to be some kind of time-loop gag going on. I swear, the last two kodos in the line probably met for the first time when they were first setting up the caravan, and in the time it took all of them to march into town, those last two kodos got married, had two kids, raised them, sent them to college, welcomed them back, and hooked them up in the family business of carrying fucking arugula to Garrosh, before retiring and wandering off to find the Kodo Graveyard. THAT FUCKING BIG OF A CARAVAN.
I seriously don’t know what I’m going to do with all this shit. I’m looking around the war room right now and it looks like a fucking farmer’s market. The only good thing to come out of this is that now, FINALLY, I have something new to keep Marogg busy with. I’m having him come in and just go to town, and with any luck he’ll be able to crank out a bunch of new recipes to put on sale, so maybe those Orgrimmar cooking awards might finally be worth something again. (And I’m going to be WATCHING your ass this time, stupid meddling recipe-stealing tree!)
Of course, none of this even TOUCHES the fact that Lather-on-us has some really…um…iffy reading skills. If you look back at the mailbag he’s apparently referring to, the letter from Jaina…um…yeah. Dude needs to train up [Sarcasm Detection], because…
Hold on. You know what, forget it. I’m not going to straighten him out. If he thinks I’ve gone all granola-crunchy, maybe he’ll be a little less of a headache. No more of the stupid protests and letter-writing campaigns (by the by, when he gets on one of those, let me tell you, that’s a whole OTHER kodo caravan delivering all the other latters…although it’s also kind of sad when you actually look at the letters and it only really looks like there are like four different people’s handwriting, so…). So yeah. Let me just let the baby have his bottle, maybe go up to Northrend some weekend and choke down a salad, and make my life a little easier, at least until he figures out what a fucking idiot he is.
So, one last mail-related note before we finish up here. A couple weeks ago I mentioned in a post about Magatha Grimtotem that I had once written to her and explained part of the reason I was (still am) so enraged over her meddling with my duel with Cairne. I’ve gotten a couple passing inquiries about that, so I thought people might want a peek at what I’d said. This was the letter I sent her shortly after the duel – she and her Grimtotem stooges were trying to stage a takeover in Thunder Bluff, and for some asinine reason she actually thought I would be GRATEFUL to her for robbing me of my honor, and wrote to me asking for help against Baine’s forces. And so:
Unto Elder Crone Magatha of the Grimtotem,
Acting Warchief of the Horde, Garrosh Hellscream,
Sends his most sincere wishes for a slow and painful death.It has come to my attention that you have deprived me of a rightful kill. Cairne Bloodhoof was a hero to the Horde and an honorable member of a usually honorable race. It is with disgust and anger that I discover you have caused me to bring about his death through accidental treachery.
Such tactics may work well for your renegade, honorless tribe and Alliance scum, but I despise them. It was my wish to fight Cairne fairly, and win or lose by my own skill or lack of it. Now I shall never know, and the cry of traitor will dog my steps until such time as I can sport your head on a pike and point to you as the real traitor.
So…no. I will not be sending any truehearted orcs to fight alongside your treacherous, belly-crawling tribe. Your victory or your defeat is in the hands of your Earth Mother now. Either way, I look forward to hearing of your demise.
You are on your own, Magatha, as friendless and disliked as you have ever been. Perhaps more. Enjoy your loneliness.
So there you have it.
Anyway, we’ll be getting back to business this week. Mokvar’s got the transcript from Skarr’s interrogation written up, so I’ll be posting that for you all tomorrow, and we’ll have plenty to do this week in the aftermath.
Meanwhile, Mortimer’s still nursing a few injuries from his fight with the Razza last week, so he’s resting upstairs in his pen, and if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go heat up some soup for the furball. More soon.
Quoth the Druid
Once upon a late night dreary,
As I pondered, weak and weary
After many – far too many –
Gaming hours sealed off aloof,
While I nodded, nearly napping
Suddenly there came a tapping
Like an o’erhead wyvern crapping
Crapping pellets on my roof.
“That’s no shitting wyvern,” said I,
“Casting crap upon my roof.
That’s just knocking, stupid goof.”
Yeah, I know, that was retarded
To think my roof had been bombarded
By some incontinent wyvern
Doing business as he’d soar.
But, you see, I was so sleepy,
And exhaustion had me weepy,
And the tapping knocks were creepy –
Creepy tapping at my door
So my sleepy brain went places
Places never gone before
Anyway, yeah, it’s the door.
Then I strode so very bravely
To the door and bellowed gravely,
“What the fuck, dude, have you never
Ever used your brain before?
Never mind the creepy tapping –
Shades of sounds of wyverns crapping –
Yeah, forget it – just recapping
How you knocked upon my door.
Never mind your oddball rapping
Freaked me out – I should be napping,
Having dreams of BG capping
(Just provided rogues aren’t sapping)
And of human spinal snapping,
Not to mention big game trapping,
To the wagon, carcass strapping,
Mount the head with hunters clapping,
Then I’ll do some vendor slapping,
Winter’s Veil and present wrapping,
Hear the sounds of brown wings flapping,
Shit, I’m back to wyverns crapping!
Fuck it! This whole part I’m scrapping.
(Yeah, I really need some napping.)
But, the knocking on my door:
Dude, the time – it’s half past four.
Look, I don’t know where you grew up,
Or what mess you’re here to brew up,
But I’ll tell you, dammit, this is
Not the hour to just drop by.
Wrists are sore and eyes are stinging,
Just two bubbles short of dinging,
So, believe me, you are clinging
To your last hope ere you die.
So what business are you bringing?”
Here no sound save crickets singing.
Silence. What’s the deal? Stand by.
“Listen up, dude, I’ve had enough.
Take a hike, and use a haste buff.
Otherwise, it’s late, so tell me
What you came here to discuss.
By all rights I should be sleeping,
But the weird hours that I’m keeping
Have saved you a heap of weeping
When you came to start a fuss.”
And at that, heroic leaping,
Flung the door wide open thus:
Holy fuck! Lather-on-us!
Just a moment was he standing,
Posture stern and face demanding,
And he said, “Hellscream, the wrath
Of DEHTA now shall you incur!”
That one really made me chuckle,
Then a feast of sandwich-knuckle
Flew at him – his knees did buckle
As in air he formed a blur.
All around my chamber flying
When by rights he should be dying!
All my grabs and swings defying
As my rage he dared to stir.
“What the fuck’s your problem!” crying
Out I chased the blasted cur.
Quoth the druid: “Mortimer.”
“Fucking bird!” I screamed as he fled.
“Fucking bird!” He pecked at my head
As he fluttered round the rafters
In the room – annoying, sure.
Swooping ’round, he did not tire.
“Fucking bird!” He hovered higher,
Just beyond my grasp entire,
On and on this did recur.
“Fucking bird!” (At least not fire.)
Flying feathered saboteur.
Quoth the druid: “Mortimer.”
“Yeah, but what about him, bastard?”
Flying nuisance flying faster.
“Fucking bird!” He dipped and dove
And pricked my side as if a burr.
Driven out onto the rampart,
“Fucking bird!” The pricks did restart.
Even though I got a head start
He was on my ass, yes sir.
Driven back into the railing,
Tired and drained, my strength was failing,
Hopelessly my weapon flailing –
Not the fate I would prefer.
“Fucking bird!” I kept on howling.
Then above there came a growling
As of some winged creature prowling,
Swooping down with claw and fur.
’Tis some diving bat or owling
Racing near as if a blur.
Eyes deceive me! Mortimer!
Lather-on-us squawked delighted,
With his ally reunited –
But his joy was quite shortsighted:
Not quite truth did he infer!
For the wyvern’s swooping anger
Loosed afresh from Kor’kron hangar
Was unleashed with piercing fang, er,
Fangs, I mean. (That’s plural, dur.)
And the druid’s damned demented
Diving dusky beak was dented
And his cries grew discontented
As a beating did occur.
Flapping wings of flutt’ring feathers
Slapped around by wyvern leather
As if saying, “Garrosh? Never!
You shall take your leave now, sir!”
Thought he had me? Yeah, whatever.
Some bad news I must confer.
Now go get ’im, Mortimer!
Now the druid’s stitched up, resting,
While my wyvern’s upstairs nesting,
In the attic pen I’d crafted
Where he makes contented purr.
Banes and bombs and birds fate may send,
Kor’kron guards may help to defend,
But above all, you can depend
On what nothing will deter.
Dog may be the human’s best friend –
For the orc? That’s Mortimer.
Off flight duty, that’s for sure.
EPIC VERSE!
Monday mailbag
Running a little late today, I know, but here’s a few of this week’s letters…
I hope this missive finds you well. Your delightful and inspiring blog was recently brought to my attention, and I felt compelled to write to express my deepest appreciation. I can see now why Thrall so wisely saw fit to appoint you as his successor. With such a keen intellect at the helm, I have little doubt that we shall prevail against our foes.
I am particularly touched by your recent comments on my defense of Silvermoon. While I am saddened to see that you still harbor reservations about my loyalty and commitment, I can assure you that the good of the Horde is forefront in my thoughts, and further assure – nay, stress – that no further…shall we say…indiscretions are forthcoming. I cannot, in fact, emphasize this point enough. There is truly nothing for you to concern yourself with, and, as such, I can further assure you that there is no need for you to waste valuable time checking up on the goings-on in, say, Silverpine Forest or Gilneas. With so many Horde outposts in need of your sage attention, it would pain me to know that we Forsaken were needlessly occupying your valuable time. So, once again, no need to visit Silverpine. Really. Don’t you worry your dear, most interestingly proportioned head over it.
Also, loathe though I am to impose upon the Warchief’s attention, might I request, at your next opportunity, that you have a word or two with the most honorable Captain Bloodfist, of the Kor’kron detachment generously assigned to aid in the defense of my beloved Undercity? Skillful military tactician though I’m sure he is, I cannot help but notice over these past several months that he persists in…looking at me. In…ways that are starting to make me feel rather uncomfortable.
–Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, Undercity
Oh crap, I think I’m about to have more forms to fill out.
Although…I mean, seriously, do you ever look at the way you dress?
Anyway. It’s nice to see Sylvanas coming around a little. Like I said a couple weeks ago, I really did have my doubts about her, but it really seems like she’s pulling herself together these days. Nice to know I don’t have to worry too much about her, it’s not like I don’t have enough on my mind already these days.
HAHAHA! That’s it, laddy, put them DEHTA pantywaists in their place! Ye know, they keep tellin’ all their recruits they’re me archenemy. At least that’s what they say – I haven’t seen ’em dare come near me themselves! But at least they talk a good game. Ye notice, though, they keep tryin’ to recruit people to run errands for them, but they still only have six members, so good on ye, lads, fine job retainin’ yer recruits!
If any of ye DEHTA types are readin’ this, I’ll raise me stein and have a drink to yer health…and use it to wash down the goodly feast of assorted Northrend meats I went out and killed fresh today! Ye know where to find me if ye ever grow a pair!
–Hemet Nesingwary, Sholazar Basin
I don’t really have a lot to say here. This just made me happy! Good to hear from you, Hemet, it’s been a while! For anyone who doesn’t know, Hemet used to hang out in Nagrand, so I used to go hunting with him sometimes. Hey Hemet, remember that time we were hunting Banthar, and that damn Durn the Hungerer came sneaking up behind us? Like how does he DO that anyway? How does a 50 foot tall giant gronn just SNEAK UP on you like that??
To Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde:
Seriously? Clefthoof stew? And not only ENCOURAGING people to eat clefthoof stew, when there are many far healthier, less murder-requiring dietary options available, but GLORYING in your choice to make such food out of a CRUELLY BETRAYED friend and companion of your childhood?
You really are determined to evoke the wrath of D.E.H.T.A., aren’t you?
–Arch Druid Lathorius, D.E.H.T.A.
Oh no. THE WRATH OF DEHTA! WHAT-EVER WILL I DO. Hey, news flash, Lather-on-us, the whole time I was up there in Northrend, there was only one person whose “wrath” I ever concerned myself with at all, and guess what, it wasn’t you, or any of your whiny druid friends.
I already wasted enough time on you guys last week, but looks like Hemet might have a few choice words for you. YOU REMEMBER HIM, RIGHT? THE ARCHENEMY you guys were going to PUT IN HIS PLACE, and you sure as hell did, provided by “in his place” you meant “at the dinner table, feasting on a spread of barbecued, stewed, and roasted shoveltusk, woolly rhino, mammoth, and worg.” Yum!
I know you be tinkin’ I be supportin’ you as my replacement as Warchief, but I really only gave ya da job to prove to you an’ everybody what a failure you’d be at it. Ever since you came to Orgrimmar you been actin’ like you be knowin’ how to run tings better dan me, so I figured I be givin’ you enough rope to hang yourself. Not to mention dis way when I come back everybody will be so happy to be rid of you dat dey’ll tink I’m even more of a hero. Like seriously mon, you got no idea how much all de other leaders be missin’ me. After you, all I’ll have to do is walk in a straight line without droolin’ on meself an’ it’ll be an improvement, mon. P.S. You smell.
—Bob Trall, Echo Isles
WHAT!!! OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE THRALL WOULD SAY THAT WTF!!!! And WTF is he doing in the Echo Isles I thought he was supposed to be in the Maelstrom or Mount Hyjal or wherever the fuck he is that’s not here!!!
AND I DO NOT SMELL WTF!!!
Monday mailbag
So let’s see what the mail has for us this week…
Not only is King Mrgl-Mrgl of the Winterfin murlocs a dangerous radical, but I be hearin’ he not even be a native-born Winterfin! And he be rulin’ da Winterfin! Join our movement to demand he be releasin’ his birth records! Demand da trut’, mon!
–Bob, Echo Isles
OMG I KNEW SOMETHING DIDN’T ADD UP ABOUT THAT GUY!!! I remember running into him when I was still stationed out in the Borean Tundra. He was always dropping by asking if we had any soy burgers, whatever the hell that was. I was like, dude, why can’t you just eat fish and stuff like the other murlocs, and he got all huffy and gave me attitude. So I slapped him around a little and send him home. Still, he was just weird, you know? Like with most murlocs you’d be lucky to get anything out of them other than “burglemurgleflurglegurglecrap,” and this fucker’s blabbering on about “indigenous” and “ecosystems” and shit. And fuck, if I have to listen to crap that I don’t know what it means, at least let it be crap that doesn’t make me feel fucking stupid on top of it all.
So, yeah, Bob, I think you might be on to something about the fucker. Where do you figure murlocs keep records like that? Probably some little island somewhere where they’re gonna fucking stonewall us on getting the forms released, just you watch. Fucking murloc spin operation.
As your loyal emissaries, to wit, etc., it is our honor to report our arrival as per your instructions in Stonetalon Mountains, Krom’gar Fortress et al. Overlord Krom’gar is pleased to hear of word that notice has been sent of your commandership’s pending visit, we are sure Your Warchiefness will be impressed by the inconceivable might of the forces amassed heretofore as per your indulgency. It is most hoped that Your Hellscreamingestness will pardon the crudeness of our missiving as we are but humble orcs, but Utvoch has been taking an extension course in diplomatic writing so we hope we’ve been able to shape our note into inconceivable due reverentness.
–Sgt. Dontrag and Scout Utvoch, Stonetalon Mountains
Okay, first of all, I don’t think that word means what you think it means, but whatever. Second, I don’t know who’s teaching this class Utvoch is taking, but whoever it is I’m thinking you need to tone it way way way the fuck DOWN, okay? Like seriously. HEAD HURTS. But anyway, I’m glad things are shaping up in Stonetalon. I know the Overlord’s mostly focusing on the Alliance incursion in the area, but make sure we’re also keeping the Grimtotem problems under control down south. The last thing I want to see is those fuckers getting a chance to come up for air.
Fucking geez, though, it took two of them to write that piece of shit? I swear, I know I might not be the biggest genius ever to come out of Garadar or anything, but seriously the internet makes me feel like a fucking brainiac sometimes. Oh wait, fuck, they’re going to see that, where’s that fucking erase button again? SPAZZLE!
To Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde:
We at D.E.H.T.A. have received reports indicating that you are indeed waging a most CRUEL and DESPICABLE war – a war waged against the poor, defenseless animals who SUFFER under your regime. In particular, you have committed the following ATROCITIES against Wyverns and Hippogryphs, two NOBLE winged citizens of the air who surely deserve RESPECT and CARE from an earthbound creature (or dare I say, mud-bound creature) such as yourself:
1. You enslave these lofty souls and force them to bear your burdens, ferrying troops and cargo for YOUR benefit, not theirs;
2. These creatures – of an intellect far surpassing your own, I’d wager – are forced to endure long, TEDIOUS hours of flying the same routes over and over again without variation, or sufficient rest;
3. You ENDANGER their lives by strapping explosives to their backs and sending them into battle where they could be INJURED or KILLED;
4. When they grow weary and tire of these exertions you have them BEATEN within an inch of their lives, showing NO compassion or regard for the services they have rendered to you;
5. You then have the AUDACITY to boast about the maltreatment you have inflicted upon those in your care by posting about it on your so-called “blog”;
6. You make JOKES about “crippled” animals, without regard for how such jokes inflict emotional PAIN and SUFFERING on those differently-abled animals who read your insensitive comments.
Your crimes cannot be allowed to continue!
I have discovered the identity of the Wyvern that you had so callously beaten and sentenced to the Winterspring-Silithus flight path! As you read this message, said Wyvern has been liberated! Members of D.E.H.T.A. have secured the Wyvern – hereafter referred to by his NAME, because he has a NAME, which is MORTIMER – and are moving Mortimer to an UNDISCLOSED LOCATION, where Mortimer will be safe from you and your Horde thugs!
In addition, we also have the following DEMANDS:
1. All Wyverns, Bats, Dragonhawks, etc that are currently serving as “taxis” for the Horde must be RELEASED IMMEDIATELY!
2. Any creature currently in service in the Horde’s army or being used as a mount must be IMMEDIATELY DISCHARGED.
3. If any animal wishes to re-enlist in the Horde’s army or apply for a job ferrying persons or goods it must be offered fair wages, sufficient periods of rest, and full medical/dental insurance, as outlined by the Animal Worker’s Union. (The Animal Worker’s Union is a new initiative by D.E.H.T.A. Details forthcoming, watch your mailbox!)
4. All Horde children will be required to read D.E.H.T.A.’s new pamphlet, “Becoming a Druid: How I can have a fulfilling career while being self-sufficient and able to fly MYSELF around”.
Until you acquiesce to our demands, we will continue to picket your flight points and liberate your “taxis”! (As there are currently six members of D.E.H.T.A. we anticipate that this will be a huge disruption of flight service!)
Best wishes,
–Arch Druid Lathorius, D.E.H.T.A.
Oh crap, here we go.
Look, Lather-on-us, how many times do we have to go through this shit? It’s the same song and dance every time. You dig up some nit-picky complaint about something I’m doing with some animals, wah wah wah, bitch and moan, insert crying like a little girl here, blah blah, skip ahead to me not giving a fuck. Then you start picketing, and then I have some of my mages cast blizzard on your asses, and then you go skittering away because you can’t stand the cold. HEY I HAVE AN IDEA, maybe a fur coat would help with that? OH FUCK I FORGOT, SNAP!
But hey, you obviously put a lot of time and effort into your “demands” there, even though, you know, you’re not in much of a position to demand anything, seeing as I have about 8000 soldiers on hand here who could beat the snot out of any one of you DEHTA asshats. Hell, never mind the soldiers, I’ve got like fifty personal guards who could smack down any two of you. You know what, fuck that, I’ve got half a dozen food tasters who could mop up the floor with the whole lot of you at once. So yeah, not really shaking in my sabatons over the whole “demand” thing, so how about we call them polite requests.
So since you DID put a lot of time and effort (and WORDS, let’s not forget ALL THE FUCKING WORDS) into your requests, here, let me offer a counter-proposal:
1. All wyverns will be released from flight point duty, ON THE CONDITION that DEHTA members make their flight-form-having asses available to carry my citizens around Horde territories as needed, because guess what, hippies, if you mean business about making life easier for the damn animals YOU CAN PUT YOUR MONEY WHERE YOUR FUCKING MOUTHS ARE. How’s that sound? You and the rest of your crazy-ass druid friends just step on up and make sure our air-taxi needs are covered, and hey, you know what, as long as the six of you can stay on top of all the flight demand, those beloved wyverns of yours don’t have to so much as flap a wing. Hey, you know, come to think of it, I’ll even release them into a bunch of wyvern play ranches, and set those up right along all the flight routes, so you pansies can look down and enjoy the sight off all those happy wyverns that you’re making possible. Bet that’ll make those aching wings of yours a whole lot easier to bear, right?
2. But we can’t leave out the kodos and worgs and raptors, now can we? NO WAY. And I’m sure you guys will be only too happy to provide a happier life for those animals too, and don’t you worry, I’m already on the motherfucker. I’ve got my goblins working RIGHT THIS MINUTE on a whole fucking fleet of bear- and panther-friendly rickshaws. They tell me they should have the first six ready to go within a couple days, so you don’t even have to fucking WAIT to make life easier for all those pack animals. AREN’T YOU FUCKING LUCKY!
3. The Horde will donate an enormous pile of cloth to DEHTA, to be used to make some more suitable gear for your members, since I know you guys can’t wear mail or plate armor like grown-ups, and from what I hear druids normally wear leather, BUT WE ALL KNOW YOU WOULD NEVER WALK AROUND DRAPED IN MURDER, and we can’t have a bunch of naked druids wandering around catching their fucking death of cold, so I guess cloth it is! Armor specialization bonuses be damned! And hey, don’t feel like you’re putting us out at all, quite frankly we’ve had these little up-and-coming wannabe adventurers dropping off mountains of the stuff in every capital city for years now, and after the first couple months nobody’s known what to do with the shit, only no one’s had the heart to tell the little noobs they’re beating a dead horse (FIGURE OF SPEECH, FIGURE OF SPEECH, KEEP YOUR PANTIES ON), and seriously you can only make so many fucking band-aids.
4. To show my support of your fine organization and help finance your noble efforts, I will personally fund and arrange a fundraiser – the first annual DEHTA-benefit all-you-can-eat hippogryph barbeque. You can hold me to this: EVERY LAST COPPER WILL GO STRAIGHT INTO THE COFFERS OF DEHTA – so eat up, bitches, the more tasty marinated hippogryph wings we choke down, the brighter the future of DEHTA. TELL YOUR FRIENDS, THANK ME LATER!
5. Horde children will receive your DEHTA pamphlet, ALONG WITH my own supplementary booklet, “Garrosh’s 12-Step Guide to Keeping the Fucking Sand Out of Your Vagina, Even if You Happen to be a Night Elf.” AVAILABLE NOW ON RANDOM TABLETOPS AND BOOKSHELVES THROUGHOUT AZEROTH!
6. All DEHTA members will receive a formal invitation from the Warchief of the Horde to SUCK IT and STFU.
Are we done?
