Tag Archives: matron battlewail
Monday mailbag
Okay, people, seems like Shay’s guest mailbag from last time went over pretty well, so who knows, maybe I’ll do that again every so often. Not even with Shay, necessarily, because i don’t know how keen she would be to do those on a regular basis — as it is, I had to offer her a shopping trip in Silvermoon to get her to do that one, and there’s no fucking WAY I can afford to keep slinging those around on a monthly basis or whatever. But maybe every so often I can rope someone else into doing one, if you people have anyone else you might have questions for.
More importantly for right now, though, you’ve got the main event back, so let’s see what you peeps have on your minds this time around.
In my attempt to offer what seemed to me to be good advice to your beautiful and talented daughter, I believe I have offended her (and possibly you).
This troubles me, and I wish to offer to meet at your convenience to offer my personal apologies. (Lyssa doesn’t want me to go, but I think it the only proper thing to do.)
If there is any other service I may perform for you, please let me know, and until we meet, I remain your faithful follower,
–Sintra E’Drien of the Horde
Evidently, what you people have on your minds is how you can be even more exhausting than usual.
And I mean… you know what? This is just a textbook example. Because, look, Sintra, I know you mean well here, and you think you’re doing the right thing, and you’re trying to be nice, and all kinds of good crap like that, but just… fuck, you people are just so fucking high maintenance. Let’s just… look, apology accepted, okay? We’re all good. Well, I’m good. You want to take it up with Shay, go nuts, but don’t feel like you have to update me every step of the way. And if she looks at you funny or says something that makes you think she maybe had a TONE, just… just roll with it, okay? Don’t feel like you need to file a petition with the local notary public to declare every third Tuesday after a harvest moon factional What Can I Do To Make It Up To You Shayari Day.
For fuck’s sake, dude, it just never fucking ends.
And speaking of things that never end…
Anar’alah! Greetings yet again, most noble Warchief of the Horde!
Many thanks for the response! I was most gratified to receive an opportunity to contact your daughter directly! Although, given her response, (and yours, now I come to think of it) I’m not sure she’s too anxious to go on that “friend-date” you mentioned, anytime soon. I wonder what the problem could be. Although it is wonderful to see that she’s settling in rather well. I have to admit, I hadn’t expected that. Somehow, I always saw Nagrand as one of the most luxurious and leisurely places that could ever be. But I guess that when you’re poor, you see things differently. Orgrimmar may not be the prettiest place in the world, but I’m probably correct in saying that Shay has more now than she once did, with her father being the Warchief and all. So, for now, that’s certainly enough.
As for your own response, I am not related to Tirion or this Grottee Metalbeard fellow. Whatever made you suggest such a thing!? Perhaps I should remind you that I am an elf and Tirion is a human. And no, I am not HALF an elf. I’ve looked it all up, and I can’t possibly have fel-tainted eyes with two pupils, one green and one slightly lighter green, long ears and eyebrows, a slim and elf-like figure and the ability to produce arcane magic without being taught if I was half-elf. So, I am not related to Highlord Fordring in any way. I think. As for Grottee Metalbeard, I don’t know who that is! It sounds very gnomish. Or goblin? One or the other, anyway. Nobody else could possibly have “Metalbeard” as a last name without being a gnome or a goblin. And, seriously, I may be slightly shorter than the average height of a Blood Elf, but if you’re suggesting that I’m related to one of THOSE things…oh, no! Oh, and if Grottee’s reading this, don’t take it the wrong way. I just don’t like gnomes or goblins. And if you’re one of those delivery guy goblins, no, I’m NOT fucking tipping you! And while we’re also on the topic, “hooked up and gave birth to this letter”? That sentence, I must say, really put a horrifying image into my head. I mean, even worse than the Thalassian Brandy strutting through Hearthglen provocatively image. Because at least she’s GOOD LOOKING, you know!? And wow, is she good looking. I mean, sometimes I still ask myself if it was a dream. It probably was. Ha, good luck hoping, Sarlin. But Tirion Fordring and a GNOME? Or a goblin or WHATEVER. I would respectfully request that, in future, you refrain from planting such a horrific image in my head again. I still haven’t a clue as to how you got the idea that we were related.
Now. I feel good that that’s off my chest.
Yes, Twitter’s character limit has been a burden for quite some time now. It’s hard to elaborate and emphasize the more important things, such as the war efforts, gnoll necromancers, magi with weird hats, stupid mages who think it’s okay to polymorph random strangers whenever they want (that was no reference to Shayari, by the way!) and Light only knows what else with that limit in the way. I thought there would be a way to break it. Click the button with -284 characters and hope it would send. Impossible. It seems we live in a world where the only way forward is brevity. How unfortunate, would you not agree?
Shayari also told me that she occasionally ports back and forth to the Undercity for mage training. Which, I mean, I’m not concerned about THAT or anything, but do you really think it’s a good idea to get her so close to the Banshee Queen? I mean, I don’t know if I’d made it at all obvious but I don’t trust that woman! I mean, hey, at least I didn’t just say “No, I don’t LIKE her, therefore nobody else will!” Besides, who actually DOES like Sylvanas? I just wonder if she’d be, you know, in a stable enviroment if she was practicing how to conjure a mana cake table and Sylvanas decided to walk in and freak out because look, it’s a Draenei. I mean, she’s already made it pretty obvious taht she doesn’t like YOU. Sylvanas, I mean. Just something for you to ponder on. Oh, and if you’re wondering, no, I haven’t had any real personal meetings with Sylvanas. There was one when I was pretty young, before I joined the Argent Dawn, but that was myself and a few other young soldiers. She just yelled at us for not killing enough humans. I got off lightly, I hadn’t killed one. Nonetheless, I worry. We had enough mayhem with the Lich King. And if my sources tell me correctly, you see little difference between her and the Lich King. I trust you to make the right decision with regards to the subject.
Oh, and before I finish up, I just have to point out that I noticed a certain Pandaren named Ben-Lin Cloudstrider is hosting anger management classes! I didn’t know that you were thinking about adopting! To be honest, I couldn’t even imagine you wanting to have children! Although I’m likely right in assuming that when Shayari finally came into your life, you realized just how much you were missing. Being a father must be the most wonderful feeling in all worlds, wouldn’t you agree? It’s a shame that you lost seventeen years of poor Shay’s life, but you can make up for that now. Are you planning on adopting a baby? Wouldn’t it be just fine, to raise a child from before they’re even a year old! Quite frankly, my girlfriend and I have had thoughts of adopting, ourselves. We just want to travel a little bit more before we do so. And we’re still trying to work out which, uh, race to adopt. I was thinking maybe a High Elf, since they’re respected by the Kal’dorei (my girlfriend’s a Night Elf) and I’m quite fond of little High Elves, too. But that’s aside the point. Are you adopting a little orc or a little troll? Maybe even a little Blood Elf? Ha, I jest. They’re truly insufferable as children.
Back to the anger management class. Is Ben-Lin still doing those? Not that I have a HUGE anger problem, only sometimes I can be irrationally irate when the sounds of birds and flapping wings and even trickling water or the wind rustling grass or twigs, just the happy old noises, decide to all sound on what is known as “the morning after the night before”. Which often includes a LOT of alcohol. Mostly mead, although I do have a Gilnean friend who supplies me with brandy occasionally. It’s rather a strong beverage, I must say. Still, it’s fine for any occasion where you just want to get pissed out of your brains. But anyway! Yes, the only downside to consuming so much alcohol is the “morning after the night before” effect which is a bi-daily event where every aspect of nature comes together and floats around my sore head shrieking with voices like nails across a shield. I mean, I don’t mind birds, but when they annoy me like that, they just HAVE to fucking die, you know what I mean? And that’s the benefit of having a bow. You don’t have to throw your sword and hope it doesn’t miss. I have to say, it’s a pretty great release of anger. You know that rage that simply cannot be repressed? Birds always seem to know when I experience it, because they glide well into firing range when I do. Keep hush on this, but once, I was aiming for an annoying bird and shot it in the wing, only to find it was actually a troll in bird form. There’s a little Cenarian Circle camp nearby, so I guessed he was from that. Don’t worry, he made it, and I don’t think he saw me either! So anyway, I’ve had to clean up bird corpses a lot recently, only I haven’t been great at cleaning up the evidence, so there’s a small pile of dead birds behind Mardenholde Keep. With some incinerated kittens, also. And even some penguins that appear to have their skulls bashed in. I guess this is soon going to be the place where people drag the corpses of dead animals that end up falling to the blade of hangovers. And look, don’t worry about sponsors. I can always get my girlfriend to sponsor me. Or Daria L’Rayne, if she’s willing. Oh, and if you’re a little concerned about Daria, regarding my letter to Shayari, don’t worry. She doesn’t have anger issues, she just gets a bit irratable, but only during the days she’s on duty. I guess being advisor is pretty stressful. Anyhow, if I was to drag her along, rest assured, she’d be totally sober. Maybe. I mean, is alcohol allowed at these places? If so, well, I could always bring along some ale or something.
And hey, even if I can’t take part in the session, can you PLEASE just all have another one anyway!? Like, seriously! Do you have any fucking idea how FUNNY that was!? I mean, look, I always knew that Tirion drank quite a bit but I never actually could make sense of those corpses until I read that! Although I was a little disheartened when I went to tell everybody and they all already knew. I was like “Where the fuck was I for the last however long this has been going on for”? And oh my LIGHT, what is Mylune’s problem! I thought she loved animals! I mean, I haven’t met her many times but she does seem quite…uh, cuddly? I mean, I like hugs but gee, I think I like breathing more. Oh, heh, and I mentioned Lor’Themar to Shay, too. Tell me, was his hair perfect that day, too? Huh. He always did seem pretty calm to me. Just prissy as fuck, you know?
And also, if I might recommend it, maybe host the next one in that big gladiator’s or trial’s ring you got going on in Orgrimmar? You know, just so anybody who wants to come by for the giggles can do so. Look, I’ll stop with this suggesting nonsense and outright say that I WILL PAY YOU to do another. Even though you’re probably rich out now what with being Warchief and all. Still. I mean, if it helps, I’ll send over 10,000 gold and it might even feed a village of hungry peons, or maybe be enough to invent an elixir that will give them a brain.
I seem to have covered everything I’ve been wishing to bring up with you. I do hope that you don’t find any of this to be too demanding. I expect you have other issues to deal with besides the worries of a young Paladin, such as very incriminating photoes of dancing trolls or something. As opposed to “not so incriminating photoes”. Or “just slightly incriminating photoes”. The fel was up with THAT guy?
Oh, I did have a question! But fear not, I will be brief. What the fuck is up with Bob? Who even IS that guy? And what is his fucking PROBLEM!? Gee, I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s a troll and all (in EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD EVER) but whoa! I mean, c’mon. It’s not the just the harsh, real fact that he’s an asshole, but the more harrowing fact that he lacks a brain. The fuck. I mean, everybody KNOWS that the Lich King’s horse is “Invincible”. Invincible and INVISIBLE are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS! ARE YOU READING THIS, BOB!? YOU MIGHT LEARN A THING OR TWO! GRR, YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SO ANGRY.
Anyhow, I digress. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must replace this inkwell with a slightly larger one, since it only holds maybe just over half of the ink that I require to send out not just mailbag letters to the Horde’s Warchief, but also to stay in close contact with other friends and possibly relatives around Azeroth and Outland! It’s just rather a pain to refill it constantly.
Light’s blessing to you, noble Warchief of the Horde.
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker
I mean.
I literally don’t know how she does it. All I know is that by the time this last letter from Sarlin reached me, it had a petition attached to it, signed by nine ink vendors from all around Azeroth, asking me to declare a state of emergency due to the looming ink shortage.
But… okay… hello again, Sarlin. I see you still… have a lot on your mind. Again. So, um…
Okay, you know what? Let me just try to cover as much of this as I can, so she’ll at least have less ammunition for the NEXT time. Here goes.
Many thanks for the response! I was most gratified to receive an opportunity to contact your daughter directly! Although, given her response, (and yours, now I come to think of it) I’m not sure she’s too anxious to go on that “friend-date” you mentioned, anytime soon. I wonder what the problem could be.
Well, don’t let me speak for Shay, but it might have something to do with her irrational fear of having all the oxygen around her soaked up by a gaping vacuum of words words words, then suffocating helplessly, unable to cry out for help, because there are no words fucking left.
Orgrimmar may not be the prettiest place in the world, but I’m probably correct in saying that Shay has more now than she once did, with her father being the Warchief and all. So, for now, that’s certainly enough.
Apparently she had to leave most of her stuff behind when she left Dalaran. So…she actually doesn’t have more than she ever did, I don’t think, but…she’s working on it. I mean working HARD. Like really, REALLY hard. Let me put this in context for you: one of the perks of being Warchief is an unlimited credit account. Last week I got a notice from the goblin credit bureau that I was approaching my limit. Apparently, to teenage girls, infinity isn’t an abstraction — it’s a challenge.
As for your own response, I am not related to Tirion or this Grottee Metalbeard fellow. Whatever made you suggest such a thing!?
What indeed, Garrosh thought, realizing he wasn’t even 10% of the way into this letter yet.
Perhaps I should remind you that I am an elf and Tirion is a human. And no, I am not HALF an elf. I’ve looked it all up, and I can’t possibly have fel-tainted eyes with two pupils, one green and one slightly lighter green, long ears and eyebrows, a slim and elf-like figure and the ability to produce arcane magic without being taught if I was half-elf. So, I am not related to Highlord Fordring in any way. I think.
Oh no, you are related to him. Maybe not by blood, but you’re related.
You may not be kin, but you’re sure as hell kindred.
As for Grottee Metalbeard, I don’t know who that is! It sounds very gnomish. Or goblin? One or the other, anyway. Nobody else could possibly have “Metalbeard” as a last name without being a gnome or a goblin. And, seriously, I may be slightly shorter than the average height of a Blood Elf, but if you’re suggesting that I’m related to one of THOSE things…oh, no!
You’re a very literal person, Sarlin, anyone ever tell you that?
Also, just FYI, I’d lay even odds that Spazzle is tracking back your IP address as we speak. So if you’ve never loaded had your inbox flooded from porn mailing lists focusing on the lurid antics of THOSE THINGS… well, you’re probably about to.
Oh, and if Grottee’s reading this, don’t take it the wrong way. I just don’t like gnomes or goblins.
I don’t see how he could possibly take that the wrong way.
And while we’re also on the topic, “hooked up and gave birth to this letter”? That sentence, I must say, really put a horrifying image into my head. I mean, even worse than the Thalassian Brandy strutting through Hearthglen provocatively image. Because at least she’s GOOD LOOKING, you know!? And wow, is she good looking. I mean, sometimes I still ask myself if it was a dream. It probably was. Ha, good luck hoping, Sarlin. But Tirion Fordring and a GNOME? Or a goblin or WHATEVER. I would respectfully request that, in future, you refrain from planting such a horrific image in my head again.
You know what? You really started to save it. You looked like you were going to pull it back for a minute there, but then, nope, veered right on back to Tirion.
And for those of you wondering what she’s talking about with the whole Thalassian Brandy thing — OTHER THAN THE OBVIOUS — here, I refer you to a related question that Sarlin asked me on Ask.fm a good long while back. (I may dig up a few of my more memorable questions from that site to toss up here one of these days, too…)
Yes, Twitter’s character limit has been a burden for quite some time now. It’s hard to elaborate and emphasize the more important things, such as the war efforts,
The war effort goes well so far, despite occasional tactical setbacks. The Alliance has bought itself time, but their end is inevitable. FYV (140 characters)
gnoll necromancers,
Whoa, when the hell did gnolls learn how to be necromancers? Couldn’t Kel’Thuzard have left well enough alone? (110 characters)
magi with weird hats,
Yo, Mok, check out the stupid hat on that mage. Wait, what? Whose mother-in-law? Damn, sorry, dude. (99 characters)
stupid mages who think it’s okay to polymorph random strangers whenever they want (that was no reference to Shayari, by the way!)
I’m sure it wasn’t a reference to Faranell either, right? Methinks she dost protest too much. (93 characters)
and Light only knows what else with that limit in the way. I thought there would be a way to break it. Click the button with -284 characters and hope it would send. Impossible. It seems we live in a world where the only way forward is brevity. How unfortunate, would you not agree?
Yeah, I think you’re hitting pay dirt there, Sarls. Don’t know how we’re gonna get by. (86 characters)
Shayari also told me that she occasionally ports back and forth to the Undercity for mage training. Which, I mean, I’m not concerned about THAT or anything, but do you really think it’s a good idea to get her so close to the Banshee Queen? I mean, I don’t know if I’d made it at all obvious but I don’t trust that woman!
I don’t trust Sylvanas so much as I trust Shay’s right hook. I’d refer you to Faranell if you have any reservations about that one.
I mean, hey, at least I didn’t just say “No, I don’t LIKE her, therefore nobody else will!” Besides, who actually DOES like Sylvanas?
To be fair, I’m not necessarily the guy who should be coming down on someone for a poor showing in popularity contests.
Oh, and if you’re wondering, no, I haven’t had any real personal meetings with Sylvanas. There was one when I was pretty young, before I joined the Argent Dawn, but that was myself and a few other young soldiers. She just yelled at us for not killing enough humans.
See, right there. You just made me like Sylvanas. THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS TOO MANY DEAD HUMANS. Way to undercut your own point like two sentences later, Sarls. At this rate, you still have time to undercut at least six or seven thousand more assertions before this letter is over.
Oh, and before I finish up, I just have to point out that I noticed a certain Pandaren named Ben-Lin Cloudstrider is hosting anger management classes!
Well, Ben-Lin mostly counsels people one-on-one these days. She tried to hold a group session, but the class…didn’t go so great. At least according to most people, Ben included. Faranell, for some reason, still goes on about how awesome it was, but who knows what that guy’s thinking most days. Anyway, I can’t say for sure that Ben’s stopped the classes altogether, but I only ever went to that one.
I didn’t know that you were thinking about adopting! To be honest, I couldn’t even imagine you wanting to have children! Although I’m likely right in assuming that when Shayari finally came into your life, you realized just how much you were missing.
Um, no, I think you’re getting the order of events mixed up. I would have cut you a little slack there if you’d been one of the people caught up in all the damn time travel crap a little while back, both rounds of it — and holy crap do I never want to get mixed up with THAT kind of shit again — but as far as I know, you were just hanging out in Hearthglen all safe and secure.
But, okay, so the adoption thing was this idea I got into my head to maybe adopt Gurtash. He’d been hanging around Grommash Hold pretty regularly by then, and I was starting to work with him as a trainee, and I figured he was an orphan and all, what with his father having been killed in the line of duty up in Northrend, so I figured it might be good for me to just take him in outright. That was before Orphan Matron Battlewail decided to get all antsy and insisted I do the anger management class, and…well, that just got us into a big mess of red tape.
Anyway, that all got put on the backburner with everything going on in Pandaria, and then Shay turning up, and then the whole Mokvar thing and…you know, I don’t even want to get into it. Let’s just keep moving.
Being a father must be the most wonderful feeling in all worlds, wouldn’t you agree? It’s a shame that you lost seventeen years of poor Shay’s life, but you can make up for that now. Are you planning on adopting a baby?
I… no, no, I was never looking at adopting a baby. No babies. I had one specific kid in mind. How the hell did you read up on the adoption thing and miss the part where I specified who I was going to be adopting?
Are you adopting a little orc or a little troll? Maybe even a little Blood Elf? Ha, I jest. They’re truly insufferable as children.
I have bad news for you if you think that that’s specific to blood elf children.
Back to the anger management class. Is Ben-Lin still doing those?
Asked and answered, your honor.
Not that I have a HUGE anger problem, only sometimes I can be irrationally irate when the sounds of birds and flapping wings and even trickling water or the wind rustling grass or twigs, just the happy old noises, decide to all sound on what is known as “the morning after the night before”. Which often includes a LOT of alcohol.
I’m not completely sure what the fuck you’re talking about, but i’m beginning to get a vague sense that you and Tirion mesh well up there in Hearthglen in a variety of ways.
Mostly mead, although I do have a Gilnean friend who supplies me with brandy occasionally.
Thalassian, by any chance?
But anyway! Yes, the only downside to consuming so much alcohol is the “morning after the night before” effect which is a bi-daily event where every aspect of nature comes together and floats around my sore head shrieking with voices like nails across a shield. I mean, I don’t mind birds, but when they annoy me like that, they just HAVE to fucking die, you know what I mean? And that’s the benefit of having a bow. You don’t have to throw your sword and hope it doesn’t miss. I have to say, it’s a pretty great release of anger. You know that rage that simply cannot be repressed? Birds always seem to know when I experience it, because they glide well into firing range when I do.
I’m just going to tuck this little snippet away for the next time someone gets pissy with me about being grouchy and hostile with people.
And then I’m going to back away very, very carefully.
Keep hush on this, but once, I was aiming for an annoying bird and shot it in the wing, only to find it was actually a troll in bird form.
Heh. Hehehe. HeheheHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA hahaha…ha… heh…
BWAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! Heehee…
Okay… okay… moving on…
So anyway, I’ve had to clean up bird corpses a lot recently, only I haven’t been great at cleaning up the evidence, so there’s a small pile of dead birds behind Mardenholde Keep. With some incinerated kittens, also. And even some penguins that appear to have their skulls bashed in. I guess this is soon going to be the place where people drag the corpses of dead animals that end up falling to the blade of hangovers.
Is it bad that my first thought on reading that was that if, say, an anonymous note were to find its way to Mylune, directing her to go check out what’s behind Mardenholde Keep… oh man, the spectacle that might be to behold!
And hey, even if I can’t take part in the session, can you PLEASE just all have another one anyway!? Like, seriously! Do you have any fucking idea how FUNNY that was!? I mean, look, I always knew that Tirion drank quite a bit but I never actually could make sense of those corpses until I read that! Although I was a little disheartened when I went to tell everybody and they all already knew. I was like “Where the fuck was I for the last however long this has been going on for”? And oh my LIGHT, what is Mylune’s problem! I thought she loved animals! I mean, I haven’t met her many times but she does seem quite…uh, cuddly? I mean, I like hugs but gee, I think I like breathing more. Oh, heh, and I mentioned Lor’Themar to Shay, too. Tell me, was his hair perfect that day, too? Huh. He always did seem pretty calm to me. Just prissy as fuck, you know?
This has been an installment in the Last Year in Garrosh’s Life series. But, hey, as long as Sarlin is endorsing that little exercise in unanesthetized dental surgery, here, go back and relive all the fun.
And also, if I might recommend it, maybe host the next one in that big gladiator’s or trial’s ring you got going on in Orgrimmar? You know, just so anybody who wants to come by for the giggles can do so.
Yeah, I think someone already had that idea.
Look, I’ll stop with this suggesting nonsense and outright say that I WILL PAY YOU to do another. Even though you’re probably rich out now what with being Warchief and all. Still. I mean, if it helps, I’ll send over 10,000 gold and it might even feed a village of hungry peons, or maybe be enough to invent an elixir that will give them a brain.
<looks over bill from Shayari’s latest shopping trip>
I’m listening.
I swear, though, the way you’re going on about this is making me want to make this a Patreon perk for clearing some non-trivial threshold.
I seem to have covered everything I’ve been wishing to bring up with you.
OH THANK THE SPIRITS I THINK WE’RE COMING UP ON THE HOME FUCKING STRETCH
I do hope that you don’t find any of this to be too demanding.
I’ll let you know once I regain feeling in my left leg after stabbing it repeatedly to keep from losing consciousness every 37 words.
I expect you have other issues to deal with besides the worries of a young Paladin, such as very incriminating photoes of dancing trolls or something. As opposed to “not so incriminating photoes”. Or “just slightly incriminating photoes”. The fel was up with THAT guy?
It’s funny you should ask. “That guy” just had another message delivered by courier:
It has come to my attention that both yourself and your daughter have been subjected to interminable, inane babbling in letter form from a young blood elf paladin in the service of Tirion Fording. Having reviewed her messages, I wish to know: what on Azeroth is UP with this chick?
–A Humble Peon
I wish I fucking knew, AHP. I wish I fucking well knew.
Oh, I did have a question!
I swear, it’s like the letter equivalent of one of those Earth Online machinimas, where you keep thinking the serial killer is finally dead, and HE KEEPS GETTING BACK UP AND COMING AFTER YOU SOME MORE.
But fear not, I will be brief.
Lady, the train left that station somewhere in the middle of volume three.
What the fuck is up with Bob? Who even IS that guy? And what is his fucking PROBLEM!? Gee, I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s a troll and all (in EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD EVER) but whoa! I mean, c’mon. It’s not the just the harsh, real fact that he’s an asshole, but the more harrowing fact that he lacks a brain. The fuck. I mean, everybody KNOWS that the Lich King’s horse is “Invincible”. Invincible and INVISIBLE are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS! ARE YOU READING THIS, BOB!? YOU MIGHT LEARN A THING OR TWO! GRR, YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SO ANGRY.
You know, I can’t believe she’s actually making me contemplate the phrase “worth the wait,” but if this is how she’s finishing up, I hate to say it, but it really might be. BECAUSE FUCK YOU, BOB. Troll? Check. Asshole? Check? GODDAMN FUCKING IDIOT? Hell yes and triple check. PREACH, SISTER, PREACH.
Anyhow, I digress. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must replace this inkwell with a slightly larger one, since it only holds maybe just over half of the ink that I require to send out not just mailbag letters to the Horde’s Warchief, but also to stay in close contact with other friends and possibly relatives around Azeroth and Outland! It’s just rather a pain to refill it constantly.
And look at that, two more signatures for that petition from the ink vendors.
Meanwhile, I just had another message come in by courier. Apparently the night elves are declaring war on Sarlin for the sheer number of forests she’s singlehandedly leveled in order to supply herself with enough paper for these letters. And I quote: “We feel we may have misjudged your Warsong clan in focusing the brunt of our ire on their logging activities; clearly we were overlooking the true, direr threat.”
Still, feel free to scrape a few more pages out of Ashenvale, if you ask me. Just make sure you scrape some of the glitter off those trees before you start pulping. Thalassian Brandi could probably use it.
Fucking hell, though. Okay, let’s see what else we’ve got.
Sir, if somehow somewhere the f-word was banned and a spell kept anyone and everyone (including you) from saying it, what would you do? Would you be able to carry on a conversation or get mad without ever saying it or would this cause a cataclysmic event of Garrosh proportions?
–Ruekie
PS: This goes for shit too. I mean the S- word!
Well, Rook, in the unlikely event that something like that ever happened, I suppose I would have to do the adult, responsible thing. Which means, of course, that I would hunt down the fucking fucknose motherfucker who cast that fucking spell, grab them by their fucking neck, then beat some goddamn fucking sense into their stupid fuckwit ass until they turned that motherfucking spell the fuck OFF. That’s what the fuck I’d do, dammit.
And shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits, while we’re at it.
Censorship fucking sucks, kids. Fight the power.
Mogor glad you got people working on it. Elements still not happy, so Mogor hope they work fast. Still, Mogor happy to find other fun things. Lantresor not writing in this time. Lantresor say he has a “secret mission” to take care of. Mogor not get it, but Lantresor smart orc. He not in trouble.
Mogor write in to give you battle report. Mogor and some ogres of Burning Skull went south to swamp, hung out with Stonemaul ogres. Mogor met Draz’Zilb. Draz’Zilb so smart. He working on potion, will make Mogor smarter, stop heads arguing and big words confusing Mogor. Anyway, we hang out in swamp until funny pinkskins arrive, attack village. Mogor think Mogor saw green shirt with yellow anvil on pinkskins, but memory fuzzy. Draz’Zilb say they sent by the Allianz. More come, too many to fight all at once, but Mogor set trap in trees near village. Mogor and ogres climbed big tree and hung in branches; when pinkskins approached Mogor and ogres, we let go of branches, fall down on them. We got the drop on them, ha!
Draz’Zilb say he continue to work on potion and Mogor should write to tell you about attack. Draz’Zilb expect pinkskins come back with even more next time. Mogor disappointed; the Allianz tougher in Mogor’s younger days. Now they all numbers, no brains. Not like orcs. Not like ogres.
That all for now. Mogor see you next time.
–Mogor the Ogre
Oh, hey, Mogor. The Ogre.
Um.
…
Yeah, sorry, I needed to take a second to wonder what happened to my life that these are the conversations I end up having. Anyway.
So… yeah, it’s good that you got over your little elemental hissy fit. You keep on listening to Lantresor, Mogor. The…ogre. Or…or, yeah, better yet, keep hanging out down in Brackenwall Village. You’ll probably feel right at home there, what with all the other mogor–ogres. OGRES.
…
<sigh>
I swear there was a point in my life when it wasn’t a giant fucking cartoon.
Anyway, continuing on.
That’s good that you’re spending some time with Draz’Zilb down there. I haven’t talked to him in a while, but he was always pretty sharp, so he’s probably going to be able to help you with the– wait.
Hang on.
You mean to tell me… Draz’Zilb’s got a potion he can cook up…that makes a pair of bickering heads stop yammering, and shut up and get along, and stop being fucking stupid and confused all the time? DUDE ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT MOFO’S BEEN SITTING ON A FUCKING DONTRAG AND UTVOCH ANTIDOTE ALL THIS TIME AND HE HASN’T FUCKING TOLD ME???!! ARE YOU SHITTING ME??!!!
OKAY, so HERE’S what you’re gonna do, Mogor the ogre — you’re going to fucking FOLLOW Draz’Zilb’s ass around and stay after him until he whips up a GIANT SIZED dose of that potion of his, and then you’re going to get the BIGGEST FUCKING BARREL YOU CAN FIND, and LOAD IT UP WITH AS MUCH OF THAT POTION AS IT’LL HOLD, AND THEN YOU’RE GOING TO HIGH-TAIL IT BACK TO ORGRIMMAR WITH THAT SHIT. THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING DO, MOGOR.
…
THE OGRE.
<sigh>
More soon. When I can stomach it.
[As always, keep those letters coming! Next mailbag November 2! E-mail the Warchief using the link at the top of the right sidebar, or use the handy form below:]
Monday mailbag
So, I know I have plenty to update you all on after last time, but before I start getting into any of that, it’s time to dip into the mail…
A few questions for the Warchief:
I’ve noticed that Saurfang has not shown up in the EO chat logs for quite a while. Has he been dropped from the guild or simply quit playing?
Garona seems fairly, well… Bipolar. Has anyone thought to see if Faranell has some sort of magical or alchemical cure?
Why do folks get bent out of shape when I grab a burger? Tauren aren’t cows, so it’s not canabalism.
What is your favorite spirit or brew? I’m willing to buy you and Malkorok a drink, although I suggest not drinking his.
—Karlsohn, Thunder Bluff
Hey, Karlsohn, thanks for writing. I guess I’ll tackle these in order:
Yeah, you know, I was thinking of this when I logged on the other day. For those of you who might not remember, I got Saurfang to give EO a try with a refer-a-friend invite a while back, and got him into the guild. He seemed to take to the game well enough, and was flying through levels for a while there, but then he just stopped turning up. Like I said, this occurred to me the other day, so I looked up his last login – he hasn’t been online since around the time of the Theramore victory. I guess EO didn’t grow on him THAT much, or maybe he got to the point where he was going to have to start paying the monthly subscription, and, well, you know how old guys are about parting with their hard-earned coppers. And it’s not like I’ve been in contact with him much since things started heating up in Pandaria, so, y’know, your guess is as good as mine there.
Holy fucking hell, Karlsohn, that idea is frigging BRILLIANT. Why the fuck did nobody think of this before? Assuming Faranell’s got anything in that lab of his that’s not…y’know…fucking acid or something, he’s got to have SOMETHING that can even Garona out. And if he doesn’t, I’ll take the acid. You know the old saying: sprits grant me the strength to fix the things I can, the acid to liquefy the things I can’t, and the…um…some third thing I don’t really care about. Anyway.
Don’t worry about the tauren, they’re just sensitive like that. I’ve tried making the exact same point with them, but apparently cows are close enough to give them the heebie-jeebies. Personally, I think they need to learn to relax a little, because let’s face it – so far in recent memory we’ve established relations with cow people, lizard people, bear people, goat people, buffalo people, walrus people, spider people, fish people, cat people, bear people again, monkey people, and bug people. At the rate we’re going, if we make a point of not eating anything that resembles a race we know, the menu is going to get real short real fast.
I’m pretty fond of Blackrock Lager. Also, the ogre brew I tried last time I was in Outland packed a pretty good punch. (Don’t try mixing it with felweed, though.) Also, don’t worry about me drinking Malkorok’s drink. True fact: the guy is really big on those fruity weirdo drinks, like the ones that always come with those little umbrellas in them. I mean, I like some cherry grog now and again, but that’s as far as I go.
I’m going to be a warrior, much to Matron Battlewail’s dis disapt well, she isn’t happy. Do you have any advice for a newblood like me? I want to bring glory to the Horde, but not if I trip while charging at the training dummies! What if that happens in battle?! I don’t want to make you and the Horde unhappy!
Aka’Magosh,
—Mirembe, Orgrimmar
Lok’tar, Mirembe, thanks for writing. Try not to worry about Battlewail too much. She always seems to have some kind of complaint about something. “What about the children?” my ass.
Anyway, if you’re having trouble with your warrioring, have I ever got some good news for you. There’s sort of a boot camp off the coast of the Barrens where you can go to work on your skills, above and beyond what you get from your regular trainer. Matter of fact, it used to be the only place where warriors could learn Berserker Stance, before it sold out and went all mainstream. So, next time you manage to give Battlewail the slip, head on down to Fray Island. It’ll be tough going at first, I’m not going to lie, but give it time. Orgrimmar wasn’t built in a day (especially that front gate, post-Cataclysm, because goblin contractors), and remember, there’s no shame in not being as awesome as me right off the bat. Well, okay, there’s a little shame, but not much. Point is, stick with the program, hang in there through the rough patches, and they’ll make a man out of you. Unless you’re a girl. In which case they’ll… erm… um… that is… they’ll…do something. Something good. Or whatever. SEE, POLITICAL CORRECTNESS RUINED A PERFECTLY GOOD PEP TALK THERE.
Ey, warchief, didja know dat wyvern got three ballsacks? Dat’s all.
—Marie’juanna
<sigh>
I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again.
Felweed is a hell of a drug.
Yeah, these are my readers. Sadly.
Please explain Twitter. I try to explain it to some other orcs, but they think its only to tell people that you’re going to the bathroom or to post pictures of food. It got even worse when Dontrag and Utvoch got involved to explain Twitter.
Sir, seriously, why are some orcs so damn dumb? It’s embarrassing.
—Ruekie (@RuekieShaman), Shaman-in-training
FOR FUCK’S SAKE, REUKIE – um, I mean, for crying out loud, Reukie (YOU HUSH NOW, BATTLEWAIL), DO NOT TELL DONTRAG AND UTVOCH ABOUT TWITTER. Are you freaking kidding me? There isn’t enough failure and jackassery on the internet already? No. Just NO. A world of no. All the no that’s ever been ’no’wn.
But anyway, fine, I’ll try to help you explain the whole Twitter thing. I’m really kind of amazed that there are people so stupid that they don’t already know what it is. So, Twitter is this… thing…on the internet. Where you go and type stuff. Like publicly. On a web site. Unless you’re doing it on an app. (Which I am in NO WAY WHATSOEVER going to try to explain to the Wonder Twins.) And so you can type things into Twitter, and other people on the internet can read it and respond and shit. It’s kind of like having a little tiny blog, read by other people with little tiny blogs, only you all have fucking nuclear ADD so you can’t stay focused on any post longer than 140 characters. Or I guess you could maybe think of it like texting, if your texts weren’t being sent to anyone in particular. So you go to send a text, and when the little texting robot asks you who to send it to, you just throw up your hands and you’re all “Fuck it, whoever, I don’t care. Everyone. Send it to everyone, ever.” That’s Twitter.
Let me stress again: D&U, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO START FUCKING AROUND WITH TWITTER. Although, it actually MIGHT be funny to get Tirion started on it, and then see how many times he runs up against the 140-character limit before his fucking head explodes.
As we have seen, when Ji Firepaw was first introduced to you, he (as a mark of respect for and recognition of your status) called you Emperor. You appeared to take violent offense to that, and my question is, why? You fit the definition. You are the undisputed ruler of both your own national people, and a wide-ranging (multi-continental) group of non-orc nations, who none-the-less submit to you. (Even we of the Ebon Blade, though not a nation as such, acknowledge your position. Well, most of us. Some of us. Whatever.)
–Sintra E’Drien
See, I think you’re misreading me there, Sintra. People seem to do that a lot. I swear, if people keep pointing out my “violent offense” at things, I’m going to start thinking that maybe possibly YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKERS THINK I’VE GOT A FUCKING TEMPER OR SOME SHIT.
That said, I was pretty much correcting Ji simply because “Warchief” is my title, not “Emperor.” Officially. Yet. You’re right, though — I DO fit the definition. Seeing as how “Warchief” has been the title for a good long while, though, I figure I should keep rolling with it until I do something that, say, leads to a dramatic increase in Horde territory, power, and influence. Like, I don’t know, wiping out a rival power or three and annexing their lands. Now, see, THEN you could make a pretty good case that the Horde had achieved honest-to-fuck imperial status. And at THAT point, well, I can’t see there being much opposition at all to a triumphant leader declaring himself Emperor. Which DOES have a ring to it, I have to admit. Maybe I’ll even have some new processional music written up for myself and everything.
If you had the opportunity to meet your younger self, let’s say at 5 years old, what would you say to the young Garrosh?
What do you imagine that youngster would think of you?
—Kee, Jade Forest, Pandaria
Okay, first of all, considering all the timey-whimey shit I’ve already had to deal with, don’t even JOKE about shit like that. Haven’t we dodged enough bullets with time being fucked with? Do we have to sit down and come up with MORE clusterfuckery we could stir up for ourselves? Seriously, at this point, I don’t even want to be REMINDED of the Bronze Dragonflight. If I ever see any of those fuckers again, it’ll be too soon. Or too late. That is…um… FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.
But okay, if you want to play some weird hypothetical game with this, here. If I could talk to 5-year-old me – at which point I would have JUST been recovering from the red pox, and my mom would have still been alive – I would mostly tell him to spare himself the whiny emo phase, because Grom was actually pretty awesome. Don’t take everything at face value – yeah, on the surface it looks like the old man was a real piece of work, but it turns out that he was a hero in the end, and nobody even knew. And I have to figure young-me would listen, because he’d be sharp enough to take one look at how awesome he grows up to be and figure, damn, I must know what I’m talking about.
Oh, yeah, and while I was at it, I would tell myself to lay off the draenei chicks, because man oh man, is THAT one ever going to come back to bite you in the ass.
Speaking of which…
Heeey, how ya doing Hellscream!
My name is Kitti Scrollwiki, Goblin Scribe for the Azeroth Inquirer, Horde Edition. There are raging hot rumors about you and my readers everywhere just want to know more!
Who is Shayari’s mother? It is rumored she is Draenei. Is this true?
How long ago did this happen?
Is the mother very pretty? What attracted you to her?
How did you meet?
How long was your romance with her?
What food would best describe her?
Did Greatmother know? How did she respond?
Where can we find her now?
Is there any chance of reconciliation with her?
Are you paying child support?
How are your current girlfriend(s) reacting to all this? For that matter….who are your current girlfriend(s)? Inquiring minds want to know!
Oh, oh, oh, oh….
IS IT TRUE YOU ARE SHAYARI’S FATHER? (I almost forgot that, silly me.) This has been the hot topic of Orgrimmar while you were gone.
(By the way, if you have any juicy details you want to share, you know, just between you and me…I won’t tell anyone. On my honor as a Goblin.)
Don’t delay in responding! The Love Is In The Air followup edition is preparing to go out and this will make the pages sizzle! Hellscream’s Torrid Love Affair! Cha-ching!
Keep it real!
—Kitti Scrollwiki, Scribe, Azeroth Inquirer, Horde Edition
Yeah, so, I had to figure I was going to have to deal with some shit like this. As much as we’re trying to keep a lid on the whole Shayari deal, you had to know some rumors would start slipping out. So…same as with the letter further above, let me take these in order:
Shayari’s mother’s name was Marsiya. Yes, she was a draenei. I mean, really, have you seen Shayari? You weren’t able to piece that much together? Incisive journalistic mind you’ve got, I see.
Shayari’s seventeen years old. Why don’t you get out a pencil and paper and see if you can math out your own answer to this one.
What, you think I’d go slumming? Even back then, I didn’t have to settle. THE LADIES LOVE GARROSH.
Our eyes met from across the crowd. The moon was full and bright, its luminous glow dancing upon the surface of the water, and the air was sweet with honeysuckle. Across the lakeside pavilion, orc and draenei spun and danced in dizzying spectacle as the midsummer gala launched into its annual reverie. Distant voices, mirthful and musical, whispered unnoticed through the warm breeze, the whole of our attentions rapt upon each other’s gaze, in one of those singular moments both uncanny and sublime in which the universe seems, fleetingly, to reveal itself to the soul. IS THAT THE KIND OF SHIT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR? Fucking hell. We both lived in broke-ass starving villages shoved off into the ass end of a planet that some fuckhead went and blew up. What the fuck do you THINK we were doing? We were both out hunting to see if we could find enough food so that, hey, maybe THIS week half a dozen people we know WON’T croak, and we ended up fighting over who had dibs on that extra-meaty-looking talbuk, and somewhere in middle of kicking each other’s asses we took a good look and realized, hey, this one’s not half bad.
Depending on how you count, two months or eight minutes. Admittedly, not my best work.
Fish, because I hear tell fish is brain food, and she obviously was smart enough to know not to ask a FUCKING STUPID-ASS QUESTION LIKE THIS ONE.
NO SHE DID NOT. And does not. And still has a fucking killer right hook, so ixnay on abbingblay, for fuck’s sake, okay?
Go to Nagrand, pick a patch of ground that looks good to you, dig about six feet down, and cross your fingers.
See above. Unless you brought a Ouija board, not likely.
Oh, I’m paying, all right. I’m paying.
No comment. Also no comment. And ESPECIALLY no comments from YOU, Garona.
And finally: No comment. Classified. Matters of internal security.
Okay. Deftly handled, if I do say so myself. Hopefully that puts an end to the Shayari inquiries.
Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde,
I write to you after witnessing the disgusting perversion you show towards my people, specifically a child who may or may not be sired by you. I can see clearly that your kind are filthy mongrels even outside of battle, and will never be among the holy Naaru you pig fucking animals. Goodbye and may the Naaru char your city to dust.
—Vindicator Toriix, Exodar
Or not.
So.
As the child in question might say, you mad, bro?
I mean, really, I don’t know what you’ve got going on over at the Exodar – other than, y’know, hanging out with the talking chandelier and disco dancing like a motherfucker – but woo boy, you need to relax like nobody’s business. Seriously, dude, you need to get laid or something. Believe me, it’ll help you unwind.
Speaking of which, I’m not going to dignify perversion-this and mongrels-that with a response, but I do have to correct you on point of fact: not pig-fucking. Goat. Goat.
P.S. Your mom says hi.
TOODLES.
That does it for this week, but as always, keep those letters coming. E-mail me at garrosh1337@gmail.com or use the handy-dandy form below.
More soon.
Homecoming
So now that things are kind of under control in Pandaria, Malkorok and I have been taking a few days to travel back to Orgrimmar and check on things there. So far it’s been one damn thing after another, all the way down to Orphan Matron Battlwail giving me a few dirty looks, for what reason I have no idea. I swear, if I leave town for any length of time, everything goes right down the tubes. It never ceases to amaze me how many of these people turn into a bunch of Dontrags and Utvochs if they don’t have me there to cut their meat into little pieces for them.
Center stage, though, is Eitrigg. I left him minding the store while I was in Pandaria, and no sooner had I boarded the ship than all that crap started going down with Mokvar. I had a good long meeting with Eitrigg earlier today about just what the fuck was going on, and he tried explaining his reasoning for Iffy Decisions A through G, but honestly I’m starting to think age is starting to catch up to him. I’ve got another meeting lined up with him later in the week, and I’m thinking I may have to arrange a little more…support before I head back south. I’ve already talked to Overlord Runthak about taking over military command directly, and beyond that, I’m thinking Eitrigg could benefit from having a Kor’kron overseer or two assigned to him to do a little, well, overseeing. Overseer Elaglo’s been doing some good work on a couple projects, so I’m thinking he might be in line for the call.
Anyway, I’ve got a bunch more people I need to touch base with, but our old buddy Liadrin is in Orgrimmar and has been asking to see me — not to mention I’ve had Spazzle in my ear yammering away on her behalf, about some big important thing she needs to discuss with me. So I figured I should see what’s up with those two. We hooked up outside Grommash Hold right after my debriefing with Eitrigg. Luckily, Gurtash’s hand is healed up enough that he’s able to get back to doodle duty…
* Horde agents, with aid from within Dalaran, stole the Divine Bell from Darnassus, as accounted here.
** As Garrosh notes, Jaina did indeed get a bit upset about this. Spazzle reported on the purge of Dalaran here.
* Liadrin arrived in Orgrimmar and met with Spazzle here.
Strange bedfellows
So I’m going to spare Gurtash having to draw like ten pages of action shots and bottom-line this for you: it took a little doing, but Varian and I were able to beat down that sha that sprung up out of where-the-fuck. Which shouldn’t come as much of a surprise – I mean, really, anyone who thought I would be writing this to inform you we’d been fucking KILLED, take a step forward. Then take another few steps toward the nearest steep ledge and just fucking kill yourself, because seriously, too stupid to live.
Anyway, once the sha was out of the way, we got back to the much more important matter of beating the shit out of each other. Check it out, though – we weren’t even five minutes into round two when ANOTHER sha popped up out of nowhere and had something to say. So we had to drop everything again and take care of the sha. Fucking rude, if you ask me.
Anyway, we polished off this one and got back to business. For a few minutes, anyway, until – can you believe this shit? – ANOTHER sha showed up. At which point it was way past rude getting to be just plain annoying.
Now, if it depended solely on pinhead Varian, we probably would have been going round and round like that for-fucking-EVER, but because your Warchief IS indeed the sharpest tool in the shed, after this pattern repeated itself another, like, eight or nine times, I realized that it was our fighting that was causing the sha to keep spawning. Feeding off of our anger and hate and…well, really, let’s just call it the whole damn sha cocktail.
So, on the up side: Now we knew how to keep the damn sha from rolling up on us over and over.
On the down side: I had to put a (temporary) stop to adding to the human’s scar collection.
Seriously, do you know how fucking DISTASTEFUL it is to be stuck in a room with Varian and not be able to punch him in the face? (Note to Genn Greymane: How the fuck do you DO it, man?)
Seriously. How, Genn, how?
Anyway, that went on for a little while. At least the trainees weren’t within earshot most of the time, so I could give Varian an earful. Otherwise I’m liable to GET an earful from Orphan Matron Battlewail whenever I get back to Orgrimmar, what with the giant bone she has to pick with me about swearing so much around the kids. Because, yeah, in situations like these, watching my language should TOTALLY be one of my priorities, right?
Anyhow. Whatever. After fuck only knows HOW long with Varian playing the role of “annoying little bird sitting on Garrosh’s head and pecking away verbally,” I finally managed to get him talking enough to find out how he ended up down there – after the battle at the temple, word got back to him that his soldiers had chased some orc trainees into the wilds, and he went out to join in the search. Something about making sure his people didn’t get “overzealous,” whatever the fuck that means. Anyway, while he was scoping out the area he managed to fall down one of those cracks in the ground, same as I did. Idiot. So here he was.
I’m not sure how long we were stuck there basking in the glow of each other’s delightful company, but eventually Giska came running in with a scouting report. Apparently there were noises coming our way, and so she snuck off to check on it all stealthy-monk style, and, come to find out, there was a handful of humans heading our way. Because hey, why not, right? Was there anybody NOT in these caves at this point? Who knew the fucking saurok caves were party central around these parts? Hey, maybe fucking Koltira Deathweaver was down here too – mystery solved at last!
So, fast forward to the humans arriving, the initial “Holy shit, it’s Garrosh!” moment (RECOGNIZE, BITCHES), and the clusterfuckery of getting them to cool it before we got an in-person reminder of what’s black and white and tendrilly all over. From that point, the humans huddled off to themselves, but I managed to listen in on bits and pieces.
I guess these newest arrivals had found the main entrance to these caves, up in the heart of Saurok Town, and had gone in searching for King Chin. From what I can gather, they had to make their way through a shitload of saurok activity. Seems over the last couple hours, the saurok had been spooked by the appearance of a bunch of creepy black monsters (GEE I WONDER WHERE THOSE COULD HAVE COME FROM), and now it looked like they were getting what passes for shaman in lizard-land to do some kind of rituals to close off these caves altogether with earthquakes and cave-ins and shit. So that spurred the humans to pick up the pace looking for Varian, and look at that, they found him safe and sound, because things always work out nicely that way so long as your name isn’t fucking ME.
Luckily, the humans had a mage with them. I say “luckily” there, because for some reason I thought, hey, cool, mage portal, we can all just pop the fuck out of here, only I didn’t realize that APPARENTLY mages can rig their portals so they can only be used by the people they WANT to use them, because I guess mages are FUCKERS like that. So I guess the “luckily” was, in fact, only “luckily” for them, as opposed to a big juicy serving of UP YOURS for me and the kids.
And of course, class act that he is, Varian couldn’t resist sticking it to me on his way out the door. Portal. Whatever.
Don’t blame the healer
It took a little doing, but eventually I got the DPS kids to fill in the rest of what had gone down after they’d sealed themselves in the cave. (I’m not going to stick Gurtash with having to do comic panels for every last word of it when we can just exposition our way over it, because seriously, that would burn through a TON of paper, and there’s only so much Ashenvale lumber on hand.) (For now.)
Like Gurtash and Giska were saying last time, they encountered saurok – multiple packs of them, actually – and did their best to fight them off while fleeing deeper into the caverns. By the time the saurok gave up pursuit, the kids were pretty far underground…and one fewer in number. Lok’osh – another orphan that Gurtash knew from Matron Battlewail’s place – got hacked up pretty badly in the fight, and while the rest of the kids managed to get him out of there with them, his injuries turned out to be too much for him.
He was a good kid. Quiet, but I guess that comes with being a rogue. I was maybe going to introduce him to Garona one day, except for the fact that, you know, who needs to be subjected to that, right? So maybe not. Anyway, moot point now. Unfortunately.
I decided to have the kids check our perimeter while I figured out our next move. There were two ways into the small chamber where they’d set up camp, and I’d just used one of them a short while before, so we knew that one was clear. So I had the batch of them chain their way down the other passageway to scout as far as they could. Standard procedure in unfamiliar territory, when you have limited numbers and want to play it conservative – one of them plants themselves in the passage, within sight of me, then the others spread out while going further. Each one in the chain goes as far as they can while still maintaining line of sight with the person before them. This way you cover the widest range, without anybody ever being in a position where the cavalry can’t be called in within ten seconds. Plus it would be giving them something to do to get their minds off Lok’osh and feel like they’re helping.
Korrina couldn’t get close enough to get a good look – I’m sure she would have tried, if they all weren’t under orders not to try to be a hero – but she was pretty sure she could see shadows moving further down the tunnel, and something seemed to be making some noise. I rounded the trainees up in the passageway and had them chain behind me while I went down to check it out – not even for the sake of them backing me up, really (spirits help me if I ever wind up needing the kids to save my ass), but mostly so they could call me back if something snuck up behind them. No surprise to anyone, Gurtash made a point of making himself the last link in the chain to me. As the passage started to widen into another room, I reminded him to keep me in sight, but also told him in no uncertain terms to stay back, no matter what. And down I went.
So…yeah, hold on to your hats for this one.
They grow up so fast
Yesterday I ended up sneaking out of the war room to drop by the Orgrimmar orphanage. It was Gurtash’s birthday — he’s fourteen now, can you believe it? — so I thought I’d treat him to a little hunting trip. Hopefully this would go a little less WTFly than that last fishing trip.
We took the zeppelin to Grom’gol in Stranglethorn. (Have to admit, as we pulled up to the docking tower I took a minute to look around the base and enjoy the fact that we were still there in full force.) From there, we spent most of the day wandering around the jungle hunting tigers, panthers, raptors, a few crocolisks. None of the animals in STV pose any kind of a threat to me, obviously, but I figured they’d be a decent challenge for Gurtash. Turns out, the kid’s actually pretty decent with an axe. I mean, the animals out in Nagrand would make mincemeat of him, but for a kid his age he’s not bad at all. I tried showing him a few extra tricks while we were out there — gotta say, after a couple dozens panthers’ worth of practice, he was getting pretty good at the old “heroic leap away then charge in to stun your target” move.
Since we were locked into hunting mode, I figured we should drop by the Nesingwary camp while we were in the neighborhood, but as it turns out, Hemet Jr. was nowhere to be seen. I guess he took off with the old man a couple weeks ago. Who knows, maybe Hemet Sr. will teach the kid a thing or two and he’ll finally stop being such a clueless fuck-up legacy kid.
While we were wandering around the jungle late in the afternoon, you’ll never guess who Gurtash and I ran into — Ji Firepaw and a few of his junior panda trainees. I guess he had taken them out to STV to get some hunting practice themselves, only now the bunch of them were busy digging some big hole in the ground. When I asked what it was for, Ji said they were setting a trap for a heffalump them were tracking. Which led to my next question: What the fuck is a heffalump? Based on how Ji described them, they sounded kind of like elekks. So I was quick to point out that, you know, elekks are native to Draenor, and so unless there are some dismounted draenei running around here, I’m thinking there wasn’t any such thing in the neighborhood. I tried to explain this to Ji, but all he had to say on the matter was “You can never tell with heffalumps.”
Still, Ji and the Panda Brigade seemed pretty full-on certain that there WAS a bunch of these heffalump things on the loose, and that they’d been tracking them through the jungle, so fine. I asked them to show us the tracks, so they took us to a nearby spot where, sure enough, there were tracks…of the pudgy bear-paw-looking variety. And so Ji went on and on about how they followed one set of tracks through the jungle, and after a while they were joined by more, so they figured there had to be more of these heffalumps grouping up. Maybe to raid ZG, who knows. And while they were explaining all this, mind you, there were taking Gurtash and me around following the tracks…until eventually we’d wandered around in a circle all the way back to where we first found them, and right at that point Ji and the others had a little mini-shitfit, because HOLY CRAP look at that MORE TRACKS. And just…yeah. These guys are for sure going to be difference-makers in this war.
So I finally convinced the pandas to give up on the whole heffalump thing, and we all headed back to Orgrimmar. The pandas tagged along while I brought Gurtash back to the orphanage, because I made the mistake of mentioning it was Gurtash’s birthday, and it took the pandas all of 2.3 seconds to do the mental math that led them to OMG CAKE. To be fair, Ji seemed to hit it off pretty well with Matron Battlewail — the two of them went on chatting for a good long while — and the pandas in general were a pretty big hit with the kids, especially the younger ones.
While I was there, Gurtash showed me a project he was working on for his leatherworking class — a really badass set of flight armor for Mortimer, complete with a heavy-duty embossed harness (just like the one I put on my Winter’s Veil list last year that FOR SOME REASON NOBODY GOT ME) and a headpiece with these big, nasty-looking horns sticking out of it. Really nice job, I’ve got to say, although I’m not sure why they’ve got the kid learning leatherworking when he’s obviously cut out to be a warrior. But whatever.
So that was my day. Gotta say, it’s always nice to have these days away from the war room with Gurtash, not least of all because he actually manages to show a little appreciation, as opposed to the complainers and ingrates I’m usually surrounded by. It’s actually gotten me thinking — Gurtash has been coming around helping with Mortimer and such for almost a year now…maybe it would be a good thing for both of us if he were around all the time. He’s been stuck over at the orphanage since before the Cataclysm…maybe it’s time the kid had a real home again. I don’t know, what do you say? Think I would make a good dad?
Don’t let my legendary axe or legions of heavily armed enforcers influence your answer there at all, by the way.
Children’s Week
Ever since I got that letter from my mother a couple weeks ago, I’ve been thinking a lot about the old days in Nagrand. Like I’ve mentioned a few times already, I used to keep a journal back then. About a week ago, before I left for Nagrand, I pulled it out again, and I’ve been paging through now and then.
I don’t know if any of you have had the experience, but it’s funny reading things you wrote so long ago that you don’t even remember writing them. It’s like this weird ping pong game between “Oh crap, I wrote that? Was I ever really that stupid?” and “Hey, that sounds really smart, who wrote that?” I know, I know, I shouldn’t be all that surprised by that second one. Modesty is the burden of the preternaturally awesome.
Anyhow, I’ve been reading through those very first entries in particular. It wasn’t even really a journal at that point so much as a notebook I used to fill up with all kinds of stuff – drawings, my early half-assed attempts at poems, stories about things that had happened to me or that I just plain invented… I guess Greatmother Geyah and my mother both thought I had this creative side, so they figured they’d give me some notebooks to try to encourage me.
(Side note, you should totally see some of these cartoony little-kid pictures I drew of Jorin Deadeye, with like “POOP HEAD” written in and arrows pointing to him.)
I’ve been coming back to a few passages I’d written about my mom. Reading me stories (thinking back, that’s probably what got me started writing in the first place, all the nights she read me to sleep), like that rhyming kids’ book Talbuk Luck, kind of an old standard for Draenor kids back then. She even did this goofy sing-song voice for Tahri the Talbuk – I’d forgotten all about that until I started reading back over this stuff. Or the time later on when she took me on that long trip on foot out by Oshu’gun, and sat on one of the bluffs to watch Bach’lor running around in the fields with his herd.
The little-kid entries come to a stop all of a sudden, and don’t pick up again until I started writing again in my teens. And, oh boy, here comes the emo. But, yeah, the gap. Kicked in right about the point when she died. “Died”? Should I put that in quotation marks now? Anyway. Disappeared. Any desire to look at those notebooks went with her, for a long time.
Yesterday afternoon, Lakkara went out to go exploring Orgrimmar. I’d been showing her around, but I’m sure a lot of it was just this big blur of information, and she seemed pretty blown away by the place in general. No surprise – the city is gigantic compared to villages like Garadar that she’s used to, and even Shattrath doesn’t come across quite so vast and, well, overwhelming. So she wanted to have a little time to just look around at her own pace. Reasonable enough.
After a while when she hadn’t come back, I figured I’d go have a look around. As big and sprawling as Orgrimmar is, it’s pretty easy to get turned around even if you know the place, much less if you’re still new to it all. It took a while, and no small amount of circling around, but I finally tracked her down. In retrospect, I should have known where she’d be right off, considering what week it is.
I found her in the Orgrimmar orphanage. It was starting to get dark, and she and Matron Battlewail had the kids gathered around…while she read to them. Talbuk Luck. Of course. She was even doing her goofy Tahri the Talbuk voice, which was cracking this little troll girl up especially. She read through to the end, this silly sing-song rhyming story, and when she finished, Gurtash hopped up and shouted “Epic verse!”
Nobody noticed me when I first got there, so I just hung back and watched in the doorway, then headed back to Grommash Hold.
Tomorrow I’m sending out new orders to some of our field commanders. We’ve lost a lot of soldiers over the last year or so – in Vashj’ir, in Twilight Highlands, in Deepholm… Most of the time we recover the bodies and bring them home, give the fallen the burial they deserve. Sometimes, though, there’s no body found. People just disappear. And after a while, they wind up on the rolls of the dead.
Since Deathwing was defeated, things have been relatively quiet on most fronts. So I think we can spare the personnel to take on a few extra missions. I’m having the field commanders send out some additional patrols, an extra scouting party here and there, to make another sweep or two in the areas where we’ve taken those losses. In particular, the places where we’ve had people disappear, presumed dead but never confirmed beyond a doubt. The ones, especially, who’d left children behind. Just in case.
I’m not going to advertise it, and I’m sure not going to let them know at the orphanage and risk getting the kids’ hopes up. Life is hard enough, and cruel enough, which the orphans know better than anyone, without me setting them up for more disappointment. But who knows. Maybe there’s still some good news for one or two of them, out there waiting to be brought home. Doesn’t hurt to have a look.
Every once in a while – not often, but sometimes – life decides to be generous.
More soon.
[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Monday mailbag
Short break from the ongoing business in Silithus and Ferelas and Dustwallow and wherever the hell I’m going to end up getting stuck going to next, to answer some mail…
Dear Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde;
I just wanted to thank you for kindly taking the time out of your busy schedule to spread some cheer at the orphanage this Winter’s Veil. The children were so thrilled to meet Greatfather Winter in person and to receive their new toys. There is so little excitement in their daily routine, and they have so very few possessions, that this event made a huge impression on them. Many are still talking about it to this day.
Of course, some of the older children realize that it was not really Greatfather Winter delivering their presents; however, they were quite touched to see that the Warchief himself has not forgotten them, the Horde’s smallest and most vulnerable citizens. I have informed these older children about the existence of your blog, so you may notice a slight increase in your readership.
Thank you once again, and may you have a very happy New Year.
–Orphan Matron Battlewail.
Some of you might have remembered last week that Eitrigg had gotten me to “volunteer” to play Greatfather Winter at the Orgrimmar orphanage (read: he went ahead and fucking told them I was going to do it without actually asking me, then played the honor-your-commitments and set-an-example-for-keeping-your-word-for-the-kids cards on me). A lot of you have probably seen this already, but @_Rades over at Orcish Army Knife somehow managed to get a picture of the spectacle too, so that might be worth a peek if you really don’t want to let me get away with any dignity.
Anyway, though… I guess it’s good that the kids felt like someone was looking out for them, even if a lot of them ARE a bunch of snot-nosed little brats. (And to think Thrall actually wants to be a dad, too… I’ll tell you right now, I am NOT looking forward to playing Uncle Garrosh at those get-togethers.)
My name is Gurtash, and I’m 13 years old. I live in Orgrimmar at the orphinage. My mom was sick and died after leaving the enterrnment camps. My dad died in battle in Northend fighting scorge. He was very brave and taght me to live with honor. I am going to be a warrior to like my dad and you.
Matron Battlewhale showwed me your blog it is very good. I love wyverns and Mortimer is the best! I seen you fly him before. My dad said I could have wyvern when I’m older but he died. Can i help you take care of Mortimer? I will feed him and brush him and clean his stall and talk to him. Maybe you could give me some sillver for helping or not that’s ok to. Let me know ok. Thanks.
Flying in the sky
Someday I’ll fly as high
Mortimer on the wing
Faster than anything
Loyal to the end
Protecting his friend
So dont start a fight
He will end it right.
EPIC VERSE!
–Gurtash
Uh oh, here we go. Well, I guess Battlewhale— erm, I mean, Battlewail did warn me.
Wait, this kid’s dad died fighting the Scourge in Northrend? But that would mean…oh crap.
So, Gurtash, I um…yeah, I’m sorry about your folks, but it’s good to hear you want to be a brave warrior of the Horde like your dad. Lucky for you we do have some really good trainers here in Orgrimmar, so make sure you listen to them once you’re a little older and you get to go down to the Valley of Trials. And make sure you eat lots of meat to build your strength. I know a lot of grownups are going to try pushing the vegetables on you, and they’re fine if you can choke them down, I guess, but trust me on this, you’re going to want a lot of protein for muscle. Pork, steak, bacon – dude, you cannot possibly get enough bacon – tastes great and great FOR you! Take it from your Warchief.
Also gotta say, you win points for the epic verse (no caps here because it’s kind of EPIC VERSE! junior edition in this case). Keep up the poetry, and just remember, don’t let anybody give you any crap about it. Somewhere along the line, some smartass is probably going to try to make some wisecracks about you writing poetry, but don’t listen to them. In fact, the best way to handle it is to just let them yammer on, let them take their best shot, and then take YOUR best shot back, ideally by beating the living shit out of them. I mean the living crap. I’m not supposed to say “shit” to you, am I, right? Fuck. DAMMIT, I did it again! Forget both of those. (AND DO NOT TRY ASKING MATRON BATTLEWAIL WHAT THE SECOND ONE MEANS. THAT IS AN ORDER!! Whew.)
Anyway, Gurtash, Mortimer DOES take a lot of time and attention, not that I really mind, but a little help on busy days or when I have to be away from Orgrimmar might be handy, come to think of it. I’ll see about bringing you over to Grommash Hold for a visit and see if we can set something up…just watch the talons until he gets used to you! Seriously. Wyverns are cool and all, but until they decide they can trust you, they don’t take any crap from anyone. If you do a good job with him, who knows, maybe next Winter’s Veil there might be a stray wyvern cub flapping around needing a home. Who knows?
That’s it for today. Tomorrow I’ll have a more newsy post up, since I know a lot of you are just waiting with bated breath to hear what my brilliant idea is about the Twilights.
