Tag Archives: netherspace
The fire in which we burn
Dranosh left with the Windrunner for Theramore. He brought Dontrag and Utvoch, which, I mean, I know this is really no time for jokes, but…HAHA! Poor fucker. Anyway, he’s going to see if he can find Faranell there, or in Thunder Bluff if need be. One way or another, Mokvar and I will meet him there when we’re done on our end.
We got Mokvar hooked up with a wyvern, and we both flew down from Ashenvale to Tanaris. Soridormi was there to greet us when we arrived at the Caverns of Time.
SORIDORMI: Overlord. Or do you still prefer “Warchief” in this reality? It’s so hard to know what to call certain people.
GARROSH: Doesn’t matter. Call me whatever.
SORIDORMI: Oh? So if I decide “Roshy” has a nice ring to it…?
GARROSH: Don’t get clever.
SORIDORMI: <wry grin> I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.
GARROSH: <grumbles> Fine, whatever. While you’re being all smug and smart, though, how about this – last time I was here, seems to me you might have, you know, neglected to mention a few minor details about this world.
SORIDORMI: In fairness, I did tell you all that there were other events that played out differently.
GARROSH: Which you totally made sound like “I’m just glossing over this since it’s not really that important.”
SORIDORMI: Did I? Hardly. Every moment is important, Garrosh. But at the time, there was no telling how much longer I had to detail matters further. We were – if you’ll pardon the expression – working on borrowed time.
GARROSH: And now?
SORIDORMI: This timeline has taken…a much firmer hold.
MOKVAR: The last few times we’ve shifted, our time here has gotten longer, and our time in the original timeline has gotten shorter…
SORIDORMI: <nods> This timeline is taking over as the predominant one. That overwriting of your reality will soon be complete, if it isn’t already.
GARROSH: Well then, since we’re in like 2% less of a rush now, how about you fill in a few gaps for us. Starting with, say, why it is that Orgrimmar is overrun right now by the Burning Legion and the Scourge, both of which we had pretty well under control last I checked.
SORIDORMI: In both cases, everything hinges on certain unexpected events involving the Battle of the Wrathgate.
GARROSH: Go on…
SORIDORMI: After the Alliance and Horde set aside their petty conflicts and united against the Lich King, Tirion Fordring’s Argent Crusade was able to assemble a strike force of the greatest champions from both factions. The team that Fordring would lead into Icecrown Citadel for the final assault would be far mightier even than the one that defeated Arthas in your timeline.
GARROSH: Okay, so I’m not seeing how that leads to things being WORSE.
SORIDORMI: It didn’t, at first. But you’ll recall, in the time leading up to the attack, the Lich King’s chief researcher was not Professor Putricide – Patrick Faranell – but Putress.
Soridormi holds out her hand and summons an image of Rotface and Festergut.
IMAGE OF ROTFACE: Daddy make toys out of you! WEEEEEE!
IMAGE OF FESTERGUT: Dead, dead, dead! Daddy, I did it!
SORIDORMI: Putricide’s most formidable creations, while strong, were ultimately…limited. Undermined by a lingering sentimentality that Putricide would carry into undeath from another life.
She shakes her hand, and the image changes to that of Patrick Faranell.
IMAGE OF PATRICK: Between you, me, and the walls, I’d rather like to have a couple sons… I remember how much Dad seemed to enjoy himself with us.
SORIDORMI: Putress’ malevolent ingenuity would have no such…humanity to temper it. He would furnish the Lich King with constructs more monstrous and strains of blight more virulent than anything known to your timeline.
GARROSH: Um, didn’t I ask you THIS VERY THING about Putress the last time?
SORIDORMI: You did. I didn’t give you an answer.
GARROSH: INDEED YOU DIDN’T.
MOKVAR: I think we might have distracted her, actually.
GARROSH: Whose side are you on?
MOKVAR: I’m on the side of us not standing around bickering over who said what and why.
GARROSH: Fine. So Putress invented some powerful shit, boy, don’t know why you never thought of that, Garrosh, go on please.
SORIDORMI: Strengthened by Putress’ creations, the Lich King would ultimately defeat Fordring’s even mightier strike force.
MOKVAR: So some of the most powerful heroes against the Scourge, from the Horde and Alliance, were all killed.
SORIDORMI: <pauses grimly> It would have been a kindness had they merely been killed.
Soridormi waves her hand, summoning a likeness of the Lich King.
IMAGE OF THE LICH KING: You trained them well, Fordring. You delivered the greatest fighting force this world has ever known…right into my hands – exactly as I intended.
MOKVAR: By the spirits…
GARROSH: He raised them as his minions…
SORIDORMI: And then killed Tirion Fordring. <closes her eyes a moment> And then raised him…
IMAGE OF THE LICH KING: You could’ve been my greatest champion, Fordring. A force of darkness that would wash over this world and deliver it into a new age of strife.
SORIDORMI: …to lead his new army of Deathbringers.
Garrosh and Mokvar exchange troubled looks.
GARROSH: Okay… Bad news part one done… Now what about the demons?
SORIDORMI: A further consequence of the defeat in Icecrown Citadel… You may recall, in your time, after the fall of the Lich King, some of his former minions would find for themselves…new allegiances.
Soridormi conjures a shimmering likeness of Sylvanas Windrunner.
IMAGE OF SYLVANAS: With the death of the Lich King, many of the more intelligent Scourge became…unemployed… They are under my command now…
SORIDORMI: With the Lich King victorious, the val’kyr would never ally themselves with Sylvanas. Which would prove…unfortunate for the Forsaken.
Soridormi waves her hand. Above her palm appears an image of Sylvanas with Lord Godfrey and High Warlord Cromush at the Greymane Wall.
IMAGE OF SYLVANAS: Soldiers of the Horde! We are victorious! Lordaeron is w—
The image of Lord Godfrey draws a pistol and shoots Sylvanas point-blank. She immediately falls dead on the ground.
IMAGE OF CROMUSH: What have you done, Godfrey?!
IMAGE OF GODFREY: Something that should have been done a long time ago, you filthy animal. Gilneas belongs to me, and so soon will the rest of Lordaeron!
SORIDORMI: In your timeline, Sylvanas was resurrected by her val’kyr servants. Here, she had no val’kyr to save her. Sylvanas Windrunner died – for the second and final time. In the aftermath of her death, leadership of the Undercity would pass to Sylvanas’ second, her majordomo of several years.
The nathrezim Varimathras.
GARROSH: Varimathras? How? He’s…dead…oh no…
MOKVAR: <head sinks> The Wrathgate…
SORIDORMI: <nods> Without Putress in the Undercity, Varimathras had no collaborator with whom to conspire against the Banshee Queen. There was never a coup against Sylvanas. And without the coup against Sylvanas, Varimathras was never exposed as the traitor he was — his true loyalties to the Burning Legion never revealed. He carried on unimpeded, not only free to continue his scheming in the Undercity, but eventually becoming its leader. Much time did not pass before he carried out his master plan…
She waves her hand again, summoning the fiery red likeness of a monstrous eredar.
…and summoned Kil’jaeden the Deceiver into this world. Bringing with him countless legions of demons from the Twisted Nether. Bringing with him the Second Fall of Lordaeron. Most of the Eastern Kingdoms was soon to follow.
GARROSH: Fucking hell…
MOKVAR: Soridormi… Edwin is in this world now, we think. If we can get him here, is there still time to undo all this?
SORIDORMI: If we can get him back to Southshore, we should be able to reset the timelines with both Edwins at the points they need to be.
GARROSH: Okay, great, so we’ll just collect him and get him down here and—
SORIDORMI: Actually getting him to old Southshore, though, is no easy task, and not without problems.
GARROSH: Dammit, I thought if I said that fast enough we could get out before the “but” kicked in.
MOKVAR: What’s the problem?
SORIDORMI: Sending Edwin back to period to which he’s already time-traveled involves crossing his own timeline in ways that no mortal was meant to do.
GARROSH: Ah…the whole “no double-dipping” thing.
SORIDORMI: To open a stable time portal for such a repeat incursion will require me to channel immense amounts of power – far more than I can summon up myself.
GARROSH: What about the Noz? He’s the head honcho time guy anyway, couldn’t he pull it off?
SORIDORMI: I am…the most powerful member of the Bronze Flight here.
GARROSH: How does that work? I mean I get that you’ve got this secret super time vision and whatever, but no offense, how did you get to be more powerful than Noz?
MOKVAR: Garrosh…
SORIDORMI: I’m not.
GARROSH: So what gives? Where is he, any…oh…oh no…
SORIDORMI: <looks down a moment> For a number of reasons…the final confrontation with Deathwing proved…far more costly in this timeline than in the other.
GARROSH: I… Wow do I feel like a jackass.
MOKVAR: This is what it finally took, huh?
GARROSH: So…we need a power source to tap into, then?
SORIDORMI: That’s right.
Garrosh stares off to one side, thinking anxiously.
MOKVAR: Not to bring up bad memories, Soridormi, but I don’t suppose the Dragon Soul is an option?
SORIDORMI: I would be, yes…
GARROSH: Okay, so—
SORIDORMI: Except that it has already been returned to its own time, and retrieving it a second time would involve the type of crossing of timelines that we need the power source for in the first place.
GARROSH: Okay, seriously, you’ve got to start leading with the “but” part of these answers.
MOKVAR: What about the spell book that Malchezaar used to bring the demons into Orgrimmar?
SORIDORMI: <shakes her head> The Book of Medivh is a powerful source of portal magic, for portals within this reality, but hardly helpful for the kind of temporal manipulation we’re undertaking.
GARROSH: <staring down, hesitant> What about…the Focusing Iris? From the Eye of Eternity?
SORIDORMI: <nods slowly> The Focusing Iris would work, yes. As a dragon relic, in fact, it should lend itself all the more easily to my use.
MOKVAR: Do we know where it is now?
GARROSH: The Blue Dragonflight is keeping it in Coldarra.
SORIDORMI: I will give you my talisman to show to the blues. They will give you the Iris if they know you’ve been sent by me. They’ll know I would not ask were the need not dire.
GARROSH: Okay then. I think we have a plan.
SORIDORMI: Indeed, Warchief.
GARROSH: You know what? Just call me Garrosh. People calling me “Warchief” here either gets confusing like with Utvoch earlier, or it’s just creepy like with Malchezaar.
MOKVAR: We should probably get go—
SORIDORMI: Wait, Garrosh – Malchezaar saw you, and called you “Warchief”?
GARROSH: Yeah, why?
SORIDORMI: <fidgets with her hands nervously> You need to go. Now. Take my talisman and get to Northrend quickly to recover the Focusing Iris.
MOKVAR: Why? What is it?
GARROSH: I’ve really kind of had my fill of flying blind around here. What’s got you spooked all of a sudden?
SORIDORMI: The Netherspace where Malchezaar dwelled was a distorted region of time.
GARROSH: Right, I know. Time loop, round and round, now he’s dead, now he’s not, boom. So what?
SORIDORMI: The Netherspace rests at the intersection of countless times. Those who dwell there can see into the different realities – bits and pieces, usually, but one never knows. If Malchezaar knows to call you “Warchief,” he has seen your other world. And in that case, he may well know enough – or could deduce – how the worlds fit together and how they might be corrected.
MOKVAR: It would really be nice if there could be some stupid people on the bad guys’ side for a change…
SORIDORMI: The Burning Legion stands on the brink of a victory on Azeroth that it has coveted for millennia. If they realize what we’re doing, they will not stand idly by. We need to act quickly.
GARROSH: Got it. Be doing whatever you need to do to get ready, Soridormi. We’ll be back with Edwin and the Focusing Iris.
SORIDORMI: I hope so, Garrosh. Titans watch over you.
We winged it double-time to Thunder Bluff. I’m writing from there now. Dranosh and the others haven’t arrived yet, but I’ve sent a messenger to Theramore with the barest bare-bones of what we need to do. I’m guessing he’ll be headed here by nightfall, morning at the latest, and then we can get moving.
Next stop, Northrend.
[Sylvanas and Kil’jaeden images above provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks. Click on the links in the previous sentence to see the souped-up Postcards versions!]
The last Warchief
Dranosh kept staring down at the ruins of Orgrimmar as we circled high above the city. We were too far to hear anything other than the faintest sounds of the demons and undead, but the fires were unmistakable even from here.
I finally went over and stood next to him. He didn’t look away from the sight below. We stood there in silence for a few minutes.
DRANOSH: Do you remember the first time you saw Orgrimmar?
GARROSH: <nods> Thrall brought me, not that long after he came to Garadar.
DRANOSH: My father took me. He was so excited to show me the new home the orcs had built. So proud to introduce me around – every grunt, every merchant, everyone. I remember thinking how every last person in the city seemed to know him.
GARROSH: Well, he IS Saurfang.
DRANOSH: <nods, then pauses> Maybe Thrall should have chosen him. Or Cairne. Or…Vol’jin. <shrugs> Or you, for that matter.
GARROSH: I thought you said I’d be terrible at it.
DRANOSH: Have you looked down there? At what I’ve led us to? I don’t think you would have done much worse.
GARROSH: <staring down> This…this wasn’t your fault. You’ve been a good Warchief.
DRANOSH: Then why am I about to become the last one?
Remember when I said this timeline was the better one? Well, as long as time is getting screwed with anyway, let’s go back and erase that I’d ever said that. Orgrimmar was bad enough…but now Dranosh…
At least the Wrathgate killed him quickly. Not one little piece at a time.
We stood there silently for I’m not sure how long, until Dranosh finally turned around and gave Drok the order to set us on our way to Theramore. As we started to pull away, Dranosh took one more look down at the burning shell of Orgrimmar.
DRANOSH: I still don’t understand how this happened…
MOKVAR: Warchief? I think I might have at least a few answers for us…
Mokvar pulls a frog from until his cloak and dangles it by one leg.
GARROSH: Is that…?
MOKVAR: Neeru Fireblade. I’ve been keeping him hexed. I figure he may be able to fill in a few gaps if we want to pop him.
DRANOSH: Is this the one who did this?
GARROSH: Not alone. But he was the ringleader of those warlocks in the Cleft of Shadow, anyway…
DRANOSH: <visibly fuming> Oh… Oh, bring him out. I want to talk to this one…
Mokvar nods and drops the frog on the deck, then zaps it with a frost shock to break the hex. Before Neeru Fireblade can react in his restored orc form, Dranosh grabs him by his robes and shoves him back against the railing.
DRANOSH: Oh hello, Neeru, so glad you made it out in one piece…
Neeru struggles against Dranosh’s grip, but Dranosh only shoves him back harder.
It would have been such a shame if you’d gotten yourself killed back there and cost me the chance to do the honors myself.
Neeru looks around at the gunship, then grins and chuckles cruelly.
NEERU: Based on our surroundings, I assume the day goes badly, eh, Warchief?
GARROSH: Not nearly as badly as it’s about to go for you if you don’t talk.
DRANOSH: I’ve got a lot of questions, Neeru, but here’s the main one – why?
NEERU: <laughing> Why? Why would I work against my enemy? Are you really that naïve, boy?
DRANOSH: How is the Horde your enemy? You’ve been a citizen of Orgrimmar for years!
NEERU: And a warlock of the Burning Blade for longer! That shaman who came before you wanted to believe so badly that some of us might yet be redeemed that he gave us haven in his precious capital. Even when his agents told him my loyalties might be…conflicted…the trusting fool still left me there in my tent to go about my business unimpeded.
GARROSH: Wow, seriously?
MOKVAR: You didn’t know about this?
GARROSH: Would have been nice if he’d left me a fucking note about it or something…
NEERU: <chuckling> Allegiance to the Shadow Council is not foresworn so readily.
DRANOSH: So you’ve been sitting there all these years plotting this?
NEERU: This specifically? No, no, boy. Simply…watching for moments of opportunity. And the Scourge attack on Orgrimmar proved a superb one.
GARROSH: While we were busy watching the rear gate, there was nobody to keep an eye on you bastards in the Cleft.
DRANOSH: Is that what the demons were doing in the Deadwind Pass? Gathering for your go-ahead?
NEERU: Our go-ahead, and more importantly our beacon to target their portal. The Legion also happened to have, in the Deadwind Pass, some ideal resources for a surprise attack such as this.
GARROSH: Malchezaar, in Karazhan.
NEERU: Holder of one of the most powerful sources of portal magic in this world – the Book of Medivh.
DRANOSH: Hold on – I’ve heard of Malchezaar, but I thought he was dead.
MOKVAR: He was.
GARROSH: Repeatedly.
MOKVAR: Didn’t take.
DRANOSH: Excuse me?
NEERU: <chuckling> Your mind is so comically linear.
GARROSH: Malchezaar hung out in the highest level of Karazhan, where it pokes through into this whole other dimension.
MOKVAR: Netherspace.
GARROSH: Time doesn’t work the same way up there…it’s like it’s locked in this infinite loop. So people went up there and killed him, yeah, and then a few days later the loop would reset, and he’d be there alive again.
MOKVAR: And then someone else would kill him, and in a few days the loop would reset again.
GARROSH: On and on endlessly.
DRANOSH: And he just stayed there to die over and over? Why would anyone do that? Why wouldn’t he just leave?
NEERU: Because so long as he was there, he could never truly die, you fool. No matter how many deaths he might endure – hundreds, perhaps – the Netherspace would always restore him. The perfect hiding place for the Legion to stash away a key weapon for safekeeping, until the time would come that he would be needed.
DRANOSH: o today the demons cracked Malchezaar out of storage to bring them here…
NEERU: <smirks at Garrosh and chuckles> I wish you could have seen the look on your face when—
DRANOSH: <shaking Neeru violently> I would be a little more worried about the look on you face when I cut off your head and stick it on a pike, Fireblade!
NEERU: Do you wish to, Warchief? Then by all means. I had no delusions that I would escape this endeavor alive. But I believe. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter if you kill me. I’ve lived long enough to see Orgrimmar burn.
Dranosh loosens his grip on Neeru and stares over the warlock’s shoulder at Orgrimmar.
DRANOSH: You’re forgetting something, Neeru.
Neeru arches an eyebrow quizzically.
Orgrimmar is behind you.
Dranosh draws his sword and runs it through Neeru.
You haven’t seen anything.
Neeru seizes up, then goes limp on the sword. Dranosh extends his blade over the deck railing, then shakes off the body, letting it plummet to the rocks below.
GARROSH: <spitting over the side> Dismissed.
Dranosh stands at the railing, looking down, then looks back at Orgrimmar.
DRANOSH: I should have caught what they were doing. This should never have happened.
Garrosh stands next to Dranosh.
GARROSH: You’re part right. This shouldn’t ever have happened. <looks at Mokvar, then back> What if we could fix it?
DRANOSH: Yeah, sure, we’ll just rewind time and take it all back.
MOKVAR: Not exactly.
GARROSH: Look…what I have in mind isn’t a sure thing by any means, and I’m not even sure exactly how to do it myself. But I think I can find out. And if it works…well, things won’t be perfect. Like, at all. But the demons won’t be running roughshod over the world, and the Scourge will be under control.
DRANOSH: Sounds pretty perfect to me. You sure you haven’t been dipping into the felweed again?
GARROSH: I’m serious. It won’t be easy, even if we can do it at all. And…I don’t know if we’ll all make it through alive. In fact…I’m pretty sure we won’t.
DRANOSH: But Orgrimmar, our people – they do?
GARROSH: I think so, yeah. If what I’m thinking works.
DRANOSH: <nods slowly> If that ends up being the cost… A mediocre Warchief is a small price to pay for the survival of the Horde, don’t you think?
GARROSH: I don’t know. I’ve only seen great ones.
DRANOSH: What do we do?
GARROSH: First I need information. <thinks for a minute> And before we get too far along to Theramore, I need to make a quick side a trip to Ashenvale.
DRANOSH: What’s in Ashenvale?
GARROSH: An old friend.
Oh yeah. Shit just got real.
Monday mailbag
Before I get to the mail, I just wanted to mention the results are in for this latest round of You Choose the Next EPIC VERSE. I’m working on the latest masterpiece now and I’m going to try to have it posted this week, so stay tuned!
Now for the letters. Just a semi-quick mailbag this week, but a couple doozies…
About a month ago A Concerned Citizen wrote in to complain about the mistreatment of a Hippogryph he had received by post. Unfortunately, I don’t think this was an isolated incident — in fact, there may be a serious problem. Last week I received a similar crate in the mail. There were postmarks from at least 20 different places and it must have been in transit for weeks. The crate was emitting a terrible stench, but I braced myself and pryed it open anyway. As I feared, the poor wyvern was long deceased, its corpse in an advanced state of decay. It was the most appalling and enraging thing I have ever had the misfortune to see first hand. I cannot imagine the suffering of that poor creature as it was shunted from one place to another.
I stood stunned for a moment in shock and horror, (and was seriously considering joining DEHTA myself), when suddenly the most amazing thing happened — I felt something nuzzle my hand. I nearly jumped out of my skin! It was then that I realised there WAS something in that crate! A ghostly wyvern stood in the box, so translucent to be nearly invisible. Thing is, despite being incorporeal he can still interact with the physical world to some extent, so he can be petted, confined to a padlock, and even ridden just like a normal wyvern! I’m not sure how this is possible, but I think it might be because the poor beast doesn’t realise he’s dead. (For instance, he still likes me to feed him wyvern chow. He doesn’t actually consume it, but he makes eating motions around it and seems satisfied afterward. To save on gold I found a bunch of kibble-shaped rocks and put those in his dish and he doesn’t seem to have noticed the difference.) It’s taking a while to get used to flying around on a mount that is, for all practical intents and purposes, invisible. However, it sure is fun to watch all the jaws dropping as I fly by!
But the reason I write you, Warchief, is that I don’t think this is an isolated incident. Over the past week I’ve seen other people seemingly flying around without a mount. It’s hard to tell for sure, but I think people all over Azeroth are receiving deceased mounts in the mail. I even think I caught a glimpse of a spectral gryphon flying past me yesterday! I’m not sure what’s going on, but if members of both the Horde and the Alliance are getting dead mounts delivered to them, perhaps there has been a severe breakdown in our postal service worldwide! I know that wyverns have a place in your heart, so I thought you might want to look into this matter and perhaps prevent the further suffering of these noble creatures.
Respectfully yours,
–Kashina.
PS: I’m attaching a photo of my poor deceased wyvern. I hope he shows up well enough on that background.
This…just…wow. I mean I know I was never on particularly good terms with old Antlers McBeardyface, but even for him, this is just…yeah, that’s just sick.
What’s just as bad is that APPARENTLY our old friend Lather-on-us up in DEHTA-land couldn’t be bothered to do anything about this, even after ACC’s original letter last month, but spirits forbid I make a passing reference to browsing in a store for a leather jacket, cause then I get a dozen granola-crunchy druids picketing outside Grommash Hold and starting letter-writing campaigns and throwing buckets of fucking blood at me.
But yeah, enough is enough with this shit. I still can’t figure out how these people got it into their heads that sending mounts in the mail was any kind of good idea, but whatever. It’s time to start cracking down. So for starters, effective immediately, I’m going to start tightening up security in all our wyvern breeding grounds. Overlord Cliffwalker’s been doing a good job clamping down on the Grimtotem up in Stonetalon, so I’ll see about him assigning some more patrols for the wyverns nests there, and I’m pretty sure we can shift some troops over to Highperch in Thousand Needles now that the Twilight’s Hammer isn’t nearly so active down there.
Meanwhile, obviously if we mean business doing something about some brainstorm sending dead wyverns and gryphons C.O.D., I figure we’re going to need a point person to coordinate things. So, consider yourself volunteered, Kashina. I’m appointing you Commissioner of Stop Being a Complete Douche-Tard. Grats. And yes, Antlers, we’re talking to you.
Recently I was doing some errands for the Violet Eye – sweeping ghosts out of the ruins of Karazhan and suchlike – when I killed a big ol’ demon and discovered he had your axe in his pockets. Do you want it back? What’s Prince Malchezaar doing with Gorehowl anyway?
Regards,
–Elder Ciaroscuro (not a Lunar Festival Elder)
Hoo boy. Here we go again.
Yeah, if you could send that back here, Ciaroscuro (and by the way that was a BASTARD to type), that would be great. There’s been some really weird magical bullshit going on with that axe for a while. I’ll try to explain what I can.
So after my father Grom killed Mannoroth, and lost his own life in the process, the explosion that burst out of Mannoroth’s body sent the axe flying and embedded the blade into the nearby rocks. It got flung into the rocks with so much force that even Mr. OMG I’M SO AWESOME LOOK AT ME Thrall apparently couldn’t pull it out, either that or it didn’t even occur to him to look around for it, either then OR when he went back to put up Grom’s memorial, because I can’t think of a third option as to why Thrall would ever FUCKING EVER come back without Grom’s axe.
Some point later, Malchezaar came to Azeroth and turned up in Demon Fall Canyon. None of the other lesser demons there had ever been able to yank to axe out of the rocks, and they generally kept their distance, seeing as having the axe that killed their head honcho right there was probably kind of creepy. But, Malchezaar figured it would be a pretty good trophy for him to pick up for that very reason, and so after some doing he managed to yank it out of the stone. Apparently, by the way, he made a big deal about the fact that he was the one that managed to pull the axe out, and how that was an omen that he was destined for greatness and to be king of the demons and what-have-you, and by the way THAT’S when he started calling himself PRINCE Malchezaar, pretentious fucker.
So anyway, he heads off to Karazhan to take up shop. Only that top level of Karazhan where he hung out was in some weird kind of pocket dimension thingy, like the very top of the tower was poking into someplace called Netherspace, sort of dipping into the Twisted Nether but not quite, or some weird shit like that. I’m not too clear on the nuts and bolts of it. But, point is, it’s this strange little pocket of time and space where…well…time and space don’t quite work the normal way. And that’s where we get into the deal with Gorehowl.
So, Malchezaar had Gorehowl, right? And at some point some Horde adventurers went in there and handed him his ass, and got Gorehowl from his body, and somehow or other it found its way back to Thrall, who gave it to me. So far so good. But every so often, the freaky bizarro zone up there kicks in, and sets off some kind of a time loop. So all of a sudden, Mechazzar is up and kicking again, and he’s got Gorehowl back on him, and what do you know, poof, wherever Gorehowl WAS, it’s not there anymore. Because it got time-loop-reset back up to Prince Fancypants up there in Karazhan.
I once tried to ask Nozdormu how this whole time loopy thing could even be possible, and he rambled on at like 90 miles an hour, and just shrugged and said “wibbly wobbly, timey whimy” and looked at me like I just asked why water was wet. So no help there.
So anyway…yeah. Every so often, the axe goes poof on me, and I end up having to send a group up to Karazhan to get it back again. Which, let me tell you, is a huge pain in the ass. I’m just dreading the day when Malchezaar’s little time loop thingy resets while I’m actually in the MIDDLE of battle somewhere, and have my damn axe vanish on me mid-swing. I have to remember to start bringing a backup, actually.
On a completely separate note, I just got my first application for the new Earth Online guild, <Warchief>. Let’s have a look at our new aspiring member…
Character Name:
£õk†årøgâr
Class and Level:
Stock Broker
Talent Spec (please discuss any unusual talent choices):
0/0/41 Execution/Advisory/Discretionary Was execution but fuck that shit u gots no power and kill nothing. vry misleading name, discertionary do it all
What do you enjoy most about your class?
money money money buy the best toys and other class beg 4 help n buffs
Previous guilds and why you left:
Scum of the Earth, guild leader give his girl all the phat lootz n she like cant play so drama killed that one
Something Wicked, kicked from this one dunno why
High Finance, cant take a fkn joke. long story.
Previous raiding experience:
yes
Any time restrictions that might affect your raid availability:
i haveto be in bed by 11
Um…okay.
Actually, no, not okay.
First of all, I’m going to try not to dwell on the crazy letters in his name, but…yeah. Look, dude, you’re really overestimating how hard I’m willing to work to contact you in-game or send you a guild invite. If I can’t just fucking TYPE your name, then the odds of me sending you a whisper or an invite or whatever drops way, way down. I don’t speak alt-code.
Also…um…
You know what, I’m not even going to try to go through point for point and break down the problems with this guy. Not even the retard leet-speak. Reading it once had made my head hurt enough as it is. So I’m just going to make an executive decision and say, oops, sorry, turns out our raids all START at 11:00, so I guess that rules us out. Good luck in your search…um…Guy Whose Asshat Name I’m Not Even Going to Try to Transliterate.
