Tag Archives: night elves
Further tourist destinations
So while I’m making my way down to Pandaria again (I’M ON A BOAT, MOTHERFUCKERS), I went ahead and loaded up the blog with a couple goodies, not least of all being this, the final installment (OR IS IT?) (probably but you never know) of GARROSH’S POETRY CHALLENGE.
For those of you coming late to the party, or who’ve had maybe some sort of head trauma (for some reason, Dontrag and Utvoch come to mind, which is unfortunate, partly because it’s ALWAYS unfortunate when you think about Dontrag and Utvoch, but also because something seems inherently wrong about any sentence that includes “Dontrag and Utvoch” and “mind”) and so you’re severely prone to forgetting shit, I’ve been commemorating National Poetry Month by inviting all of you, MY LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS, to write your own original poems. You send in poems, I write my own in response, you get shown up by my brilliance, you cry, I win. In other words, Thursday.
So, on to today’s guest poet — namely, our old friend Sarlin. Let’s get right to it…
Rainforests sprinkled in glitter
Horde posts and dead Night Elf litter
Demons, ghosts and cans of fel
Old Gods and Ghamoo-ra’s shell
Twilight’s Hammer plus ten punts
Brainless orcs, one scout, ten grunts
Draka with an extra “a”
Warlocks with plots to betray
Throwing stars and soaring glaives
Slice wooden shields and silly staves
Demolishers spitting out their skill
And rare spawns that the Horde can’t kill
Spider rogues, like we don’t already flee them
But now they stealth, so you can’t SEE them
Wolves and foxes and walking pus
And giant trees that throw stuff at us
Sounds bearable, if you’re asking me.
We’ll be out of here at level thirty
Long enough to earn your wail and flail
Welcome, Horde, to Ashenvale
Well, I’ll give her this much — she managed not to blurt out one of those multi-volume saga poems. I was really bracing myself for something like 300 stanzas of fifteen lines each. But no, she managed to keep herself reined in, and not embarrass herself too severely in the process. Maybe I should make her communicate in rhyme more often — seems like it forces her to be a lot more concise.
She DID wind up leaving out a few things in her tour of Ashenvale, though. Here, I’ll fix that…
Listen now while I’m detailing
Ins and outs of Ashenvaling.
Come and batter; foes will scatter;
Plus you’ll escape Barrens chatter.
Sleepy words of night elf slumber;
Glitter coating Warsong lumber.
Magnataur fight for the Horde might —
Meh, back to the drawing board, right?
Wyverns soaring, bombs downpouring,
Battle lines are tug-of-warring;
Hopes are stark in battles sparkin’;
Morons think they’re still with Tarkan.
Furbolgs’ mischief that they wish up.
(These ones don’t call me Archbishop.)
Dragons guard a nightmare portal.
(Used to prove you weren’t immortal.)
But one site to be saluted,
Scene of triumph undisputed:
Dark-skied canyon we know well
Where Grommash stood and demons fell.
Next zone’s not for the fainthearted;
Stonetalon: don’t get me started.
Things are better there — don’t bristle —
Ever since Krom’gar’s dismissal.
EPIC VERSE!
There you go. That’s more like it. Everything you ever wanted to know about Ashenvale, and probably a few things you didn’t, with maybe two or three things you didn’t give a shit about thrown in as a chaser.
So, that does it for this year’s poetry challenge. Unless maybe I decide to toss some bonus goodies up here before the month completely runs out. Either way, congratulations to everyone who was HONORED BEYOND THEIR WILDEST DREAMS by being included, and thanks to everyone who submitted. And a big fat WHY THE FUCK NOT? to everyone who didn’t. Lazy fuckers.
Well, even though poetry month is winding down, you jokers still have a chance to show you’re not COMPLETELY lazy and useless. We’ve got a brand spanking new mailbag coming up in short order, so if you’re one of those clowns who couldn’t be bothered to participate in my GENEROUS ATTEMPT TO BRING SOME DAMN CULTURE TO YOU SLOBS, well, you better get off your ass and scrape together a letter. HEY, LOOK, SLACKERS — IT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE TO RHYME OR ANYTHING.
There you go. You know the drill — e-mail link up top on the right, form below. Get on it. More soon.
DPS (poetry) check
That’s right, it’s time for this week’s edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge. You all know the deal by now — in honor of National Poetry Month, I’m inviting my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS to send in their own poetic masterpieces (cough), out of which I select GLORIOUSLY LUCKY SUBMISSIONS to feature here, along with my own EPIC VERSE response.
For today’s round, I’ve got some extra special submissions for you. Specifically, a bunch of my very own trainees from the DPS saw fit to try to emulate their beloved mentor and cook up some wannabe-masterpieces of their own. This may or may not have had something to do with an offer I might possibly have made to accept a poem submission in lieu of the 300-laps-around-Orgrimmar jogging drill I just happened to assign them the other day. BUT NEVERTHELESS.
Point is, though, that means that this edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge features NOT ONE, NOT TWO, but THREE featured poems. CAN YOU CONTAIN YOUR EXCITEMENT? I DON’T BELIEVE YOU CAN.
So, with no further ado, let’s see what the kids have come up with.
Our first submission comes from Mirembe, and see, this is actually pretty impressive, in the sense that Mirembe isn’t even stationed in Orgrimmar right now — she’s still up in Northrend on training maneuvers with Tov’osh — so she wasn’t even here when I issued my ultimatum made my offer to her DPS peers. But she didn’t let that stop her from cranking out a little something.
Which, you know, is more than I can say for Tov’osh.
BUT WHY DWELL ON THE NEGATIVE. After all if there’s one thing you people know about me, it’s my positive attitude and sunny outlook on life. So let’s have a look at Mirembe’s submission and see if one of my minions managed NOT TO FUCKING DISAPPOINT ME FOR ONCE.
There once was an orc from Garadar
Who was invited by Thrall to travel very far
He slaughtered the Scourge
And then went on to purge
All those not loyal to Orgrimmar!
Not bad, not bad… Although, I mean, considering she knew she was sending it in to ME, this DOES kind of smack of a little tiny vague whiff of… you know… sucking up to the guy with the grade book. Not a dealbreaker or anything, but I can’t help but have it on the brain when I cook up my response…
Now I usually don’t go in for flattery —
Blatant suck-ups get assault and battery.
But you’re right — it’s more dangerous
To be one of the traitorous:
Who’ll surely lose part of their anatomy.
EPIC VERSE!
Okay, next up is a submission from Korrina — who, by the way, just recently gave in to peer pressure from her fellow trainees and got herself set up on Twitter. Where she wasted no time in becoming a pretty damn prolific tweeter, I’ll have you know. Anyhow, you should all go follow her if you’re not already. YOUR WARCHIEF HAS SPOKEN.
So, free advertising aside, let’s see what Korrina has to show for her efforts…
Whose woods these are I do not know
They’re near a Night Elf village though
We must be quiet working here
To chop our wood and quickly go
My peons should be filled with fear
But they have not a brain cell near
I’m not sure they would even run
If Allied soldiers should appear
I booterang the slowest one
To make sure he gets his work done
The punishment he thinks is steep
But soon he’s loaded half a tonne
Our cart is loaded thirty deep
And back to Orgrimmar we creep
I bet those Night Elves sure will weep
I bet those Night Elves sure will weep
EPIC VERSE
Gotta say, that’s pretty damn good. Other than the part where she got a little too full of herself and decided her creation here was worthy of EPIC VERSE treatment. You’re gettin’ there, kid, but not quite, not yet. Still, credit where it’s due, this WAS a good job, so I went ahead and granted you, y’know, rare verse status with your text color. It WAS a good piece of work. So on top of being a promising warrior-in-training, Korrina might also have a possible side gig as a poet. Assuming she doesn’t consider it too much of a weenie undertaking to do as more than a one-off. To which, pfft. But anyway. On to my response…
Whose woods these are I know full well;
Those night elves can all go to hell.
I stomped about and yelled and swore,
For I won’t walk ’round on eggshells.
My wyvern makes a mighty roar
As up above the trees we soar;
Where once we flew on bombing runs,
But quoth the druid: Nevermore.
The night elves aim with futile guns,
But each shot Mortimer outruns.
I wonder what the hell’s their qualm;
Your guess is good as anyone’s.
These night elf woods will soon be calm,
When they are ours: just one more bomb,
Just north of where we honor Grom.
Just north of where we honor Grom.
EPIC VERSE!
Okay, so last and possibly least, maybe or maybe not, WE’LL JUST HAVE TO SEE, here’s one from Ruekie (@RuekieShaman on Twitter, by the way, for any of you jokers who aren’t already following her as you ABSOLUTELY SHOULD)…
Dark and creamy, Mr. Delicious
Your flavor makes me quite ambitious.
Your scent so wild, so strong and heady.
My body sings I am ready!
Give it to me, give it to me now.
That nectar of life, give me that POW!
I thirst for that extra potion of power!
That crazy haste buff that lasts an hour!
Espresso, mocha java, vanilla latte!
Not in a sippy cup, give me GRANDE!
That surge of great flavor, that fabulous taste.
Oh, how I adore it along with that HASTE!
PLEASE! PLEASE! TAKE ME AWAY!
TAKE ME TO EVERY STARBULLS KAFE!
Once I’ve consumed every last drop with glee,
Move over rover – I gotta go pee!
(I’m serious about this, don’t you laugh
Try taking my kafa, it will be your last gaffe.)
Uh, yeah. So… that was a thing.
Does she do this on purpose? I feel like she has to do this on purpose, just because she does it so damn much. And then I remember I’ve actually met her, and what she’s like in person, and yeah, no.
Anyway, here’s what I have to say back to her:
Now cool your jets and try to stay calm,
And wait a moment while I facepalm.
Her every good idea goes south
The moment she first opens her mouth.
We tried to warn; she never took heed.
Every time she talks, she winds up ruekied.
So listen, Rook, in your next letter,
You’ve gotta pick your words much better.
Although your poem could be splendid,
It implied much more than you intended.
I know to you kafa’s amazing,
But that’s not what it seems you’re praising:
Oh no — instead, it seems it’s me:
Subject of trainee fantasy.
And folks already hate my scruples,
Without suspicions of my pupils.
What’s more, you’re younger than my daughter;
My hate mail doesn’t need more fodder.
So stand corrected, stand your ground,
Stand up for kafa, stand out in the crowd,
But please don’t stand, for all to see,
Don’t stand, don’t stand so close to me.
EPIC VERSE!
So… yeah. I’m not sure why I went into this one thinking that Ruekie WASN’T going to… you know… do what she does. But I mean, seriously. I get enough people bitching and complaining to me about the stuff I ACTUALLY DO, without little miss foot-in-mouth giving them more ammunition over imaginary shit I DON’T do. Ugh.
Anyhow, that’s going to do it for this EXTRA GIANT PACKED edition of Garrosh’s Poetry challenge. Remember to keep those poems coming in — anything I receive by the end of the day next Monday is eligible for next week’s post, and who knows, maybe I’ll toss out a bonus edition at some point. Or maybe not. Depends on whether I get ambitious. Or lazy. Who knows.
ANYWAY, handy form below, or use the e-mail link in the upper right sidebar. You know the drill. More soon.
Adult supervision recommended
I mentioned last time about how I had an idea about Gurtash and his… well, let’s be generous and call it “shaky” progress with his warrioring, and how he seemed like he was tensing up under the pressure he was putting on himself. Granted, the pressure he’ll wind up being under in actual combat situation — you know, “fuck up and die” type pressure — is probably going to be a whole lot more than whatever he’s got going on upstairs, but still. One step at a time. There’s only so much I can help him until I get him out of his own head.
So anyhow, I got the idea that what Gurtash really needed was to put up a win for himself without me or Lantresor hovering over him. Something simple where he gets a nice, easy fight with nothing to worry about OTHER than the fight, then come out on top, boost his confidence, and maybe get the damn monkey off his back.
I mean, figuratively speaking. I’m pretty sure we didn’t have any hozen stowing away with us on the trip back from Pandaria.
So, earlier today, when he was taking Grimjaw out for another spin to practice his riding, I gave Gurtash an extra little errand to tend to. While he was making the rounds in Durotar, I told him to keep an eye out for a good-sized boar, then kill it and bring it home. There’s no shortage of wild boars a ways south of Orgrimmar, but none of them are especially big or dangerous. So, we’re looking at a real fish-in-barrel situation. Easy kill, nobody peeking over his shoulder that he needs to concern himself with, then, as an added perk, he gets to head home to Orgrimmar and have a dinner made from his own kill. Nothing tastes better.
Well, some things do. But not when your own kill just so happens to be made of pork chops and bacon. See how I stack the deck?
Still, I did want to get an idea of how the kid managed, even if the win was a foregone conclusion. So I arranged to have a scout and a notetaker follow at a distance to keep an eye on how the kid was doing, then report to me.
And, okay, you got me. When I say “a scout” and “a notetaker,” I’m also using this as an excuse to… you know… give Taktani and Utvoch something to do that doesn’t involve them being in my hair all afternoon. Metaphorically. I figured Tak would be only too happy (“too happy” is sort of her default setting, isn’t it?) to jump at a new scribing assignment, and seeing as Utvoch’s actual RANK is “Scout,” a literal scouting job might actually be something he can handle. Then again, that’s what I thought about him and Dontrag using their cashier characters for actual cashier duty on Earth Online that time, and we all know how that worked out. But I’m trying not to think about that. It’s not good for my blood pressure.
Anyway, though, speaking of Utvoch’s other half, I also let Dontrag tag along on this assignment. Mostly because sending just ONE of them would require me to remember which one of them is which, and fuck if I know. So… Dontrag, Utvoch, and Tak. A real braintrust going on this job. Thank goodness it’s an easy babysitting assignment.
Tak notes incoming. (Spirits help us all.)
(YAY! Mr. Warchief gave me a MISSION! It sounds super important, too! I’m supposed to watch Mr. Gurtash while he goes on HIS mission, only I’m not supposed to let him see me! So I have to be super sneaky! SSSSHHHHH! It’s like I’m a SPY! Maybe I should try to stealth so I can sneak around in the shadows! I AM SHADOW CAT! Hee hee! Only I guess I really shouldn’t stealth, since Mr. D and Mr. U are supposed to come with me — Yay! — and then I might sneak along to watch Mr. Gurtash and then I’ll try to talk to Mr. D and Mr. U, but they won’t be there because they didn’t see me move, and then everyone would be confused and sad. So I guess maybe I shouldn’t do that. Again.
(Mr. Gurtash rode around for a while on his wolfie. His wolfie looks nice, all cute and furry. Mr. D and Mr. U have wolfies, too. I wonder what their names are! I should ask them! I mean ask Mr. D and Mr. U, not ask the wolfies. They probably don’t speak Common or Taur-ahe. Maybe they speak Orcish? They probably only speak wolfie. I bet that would be a fun language to learn! AWOOO!
(I like Mr. D and Mr. U’s wolfies, but they’re not as cute as Mr. Gurtash’s — don’t tell them I said that, though! If you know how to speak wolfie, I mean. I don’t want them to be sad! — but then I guess Mr. Gurtash’s wolfie is still kind of a wolf puppy, and Mr. D and Mr. U’s wolves are all grown up and not as fuzzy.
(Maybe I can get a wolfie friend, too! I guess it would have to be a big wolfie to carry me if I’m in tauren form? We usually ride kodos, and kodos are super nice too but they’re not furry like wolves. Maybe I could just have a wolfie friend who’ll let me ride on his back as a cat? I’m a little smaller that way so maybe that would be lighter for the wolfie. Ooh and since wolfies are kind of like puppies, it would be like a kitty riding a doggy! Dogs and cats living together! Crazy! Hee hee!
(I flew around as a bird most of the time we were following Mr. Gurtash. Mr. D and Mr. U followed on their wolfies from farther away. So I watched Mr. Gurtash from way up high — WHOOSH! hee hee! — and Mr. D and Mr. U watched me. Then Mr. Gurtash rode his wolfie around the rocky place near Razor Hill. Mr. D and Mr. U rode through the town. I circled past it. It looked like there were lots of guards there. It must be very safe! That must be why Mr. Warchief wanted Mr. Gurtash to go on his mission near here.
(After Mr. Gurtash got off his wolfie, I landed near some rocks on the cliffs above him. I could look down at Mr. Gurtash and even hide behind the rocks if he looked this way! Hee hee — being sneaky is fun!
(Mr. D and Mr. U caught up so they could watch Mr. Gurtash too. It took them a little while to climb up to where I was. I forget sometimes that they can’t fly too! It’s a good thing I picked a perch with big rocks — Mr. D and Mr. U need bigger rocks to hide behind than I do! So we stayed there and watched Mr. Gurtash for a little while.)
UTVOCH – Is it clear to look again?
DONTRAG – I think so. He’s got his back to us.
(Mr. U came out from behind the rocks and watched Mr. Gurtash with me and Mr. D again. Mr. Gurtash was fighting a big piggy.)
TAKTANI – Is he doing good?
UTVOCH – He seems okay.
DONTRAG – He’s not going to lose or anything, but he’s handling his axe kind of awkward.
UTVOCH – Was he going for a rend there?
DONTRAG – I’m not sure.
TAKTANI – What’s that?
DONTRAG – Rend? A warrior ability.
UTVOCH – Or a warrior.
DONTRAG – Well, yeah, him too.
TAKTANI – Is he a friend of yours? Maybe I can meet him!
UTVOCH – No, he’s dead now.
TAKTANI – Oh. I’m sorry! =(
UTVOCH – Don’t be. He was kind of a jerk.
DONTRAG – Yeah, really.
UTVOCH – But rend is kind of like rake for you, Tak.
TAKTANI – Ohh!
DONTRAG – Since when do you know druid abilities?
UTVOCH – Donty, I know lots of stuff you don’t know about.
DONTRAG – Whatever you need to tell yourself, Ut.
TAKTANI – The piggy must be really strong. He’s been fighting Mr. Gurtash for a long time!
UTVOCH – That’s mostly because the trainee’s taking a while to wear it down.
DONTRAG – Yeah.
UTVOCH – He looks like he’s a little steadier now than he was.
DONTRAG – Yeah. He’ll kill it, but it’s just taking him a while.
TAKTANI – So he’s winning?
UTVOCH – I guess you could say that.
TAKTANI – Yay! I get to give Mr. Warchief a good report!
DONTRAG – Well, maybe not that good.
UTVOCH – Okay at least.
TAKTANI – This is fun! We should be spies together more!
DONTRAG – Maybe the Warchief will want to send us on more jobs like this if we do a good job?
UTVOCH – Maybe for his other trainees?
DONTRAG – I guess. Wouldn’t it make more sense to spy on the Alliance, though?
TAKTANI – Why?
DONTRAG – Well, because Gurt… Gurtak?
TAKTANI – Mr. Gurtash! I think. (checking my notes) Yes! Mr. Gurtash!
DONTRAG – Okay, so, Gurtash is one of us.
TAKTANI – Yay!
DONTRAG – And the Alliance is the enemy.
TAKTANI – Oh… Why?
DONTRAG – Well, uh, we’re kind of at war with them.
TAKTANI – (blinking) We are?
DONTRAG – Uh, yeah… you didn’t… I mean, nobody told you?
TAKTANI – (shaking head) Nuh uh!
DONTRAG – Oh. Well, um, yeah, we’re at war with the Alliance.
TAKTANI – That doesn’t sound very nice.
DONTRAG – Well, uh… I guess it’s not. But… but there’s honor and glory!
TAKTANI – Ooh that sounds fun! How?!
DONTRAG – From killing enemies of the Horde!
TAKTANI – Killing— that doesn’t sound nice either!
DONTRAG – Well… I guess if… It’s what you do in a war, though! You kill your enemies. And we’re at war with the Alliance.
TAKTANI – Oh. (thinking) Why?
DONTRAG – Because… um… well I guess we just kind of are?
TAKTANI – But that doesn’t sound very nice!
DONTRAG – Well, uh… yeah, I guess. But we’ve kind of always been at war with them.
TAKTANI – (blinking) Like for always always?
DONTRAG – Uh. Well, as far back as I can remember, anyway. Like since before I was born.
TAKTANI – But… but why does everyone want to be fighting? Isn’t it better to be friends?
DONTRAG – Well I guess so, but they don’t like us… you know, the humans and the dwarves and the night elves–
TAKTANI – I thought the elfies were our friends!
DONTRAG – No, those are the blood elves. I think.
TAKTANI – There are different elfies?
DONTRAG – I’m pretty sure, yeah.
TAKTANI – But why?
DONTRAG – I don’t know, I think some of them left because magic or something, and then those elves became the blood elves, like after the undead killed most of them–
TAKTANI – Like Dr. Zombie?!
DONTRAG – No, uh, those were different undead. Sort of. Like I think they all started out as the same undead, and then some of them broke away, and those ones are our undead.
TAKTANI – So there are different zombies too?!
DONTRAG – Yeah, right, so… so there’s our undead, and then there’s the bad undead. Well, um, more bad.
TAKTANI – This is so confusing!
DONTRAG – Yeah, I know. I’m kind of losing track of it a little myself.
TAKTANI – So are the bad zombies with the Alliance?
DONTRAG – No, they’re… they’re off doing their own stuff. Eating brains or whatever.
TAKTANI – Oh.
DONTRAG – But the night elves are.
TAKTANI – They are?
DONTRAG – Yeah.
TAKTANI – But you said the Alliance want to hurt us!
DONTRAG – Well, yeah, they do.
TAKTANI – But I see night elves all the time in Moonglade and they don’t try to hurt me!
DONTRAG – Well… but those are druids, right?
TAKTANI – I think?
DONTRAG – Yeah, I think that’s different.
TAKTANI – (blinks) I don’t understand.
DONTRAG – I mean, I guess druids kind of have their own thing. I think. But mostly the elves don’t like us.
TAKTANI – I don’t understand why we all can’t just be friends!
DONTRAG – I guess. I mean, the humans did kind of put us all in prison camps.
TAKTANI – What?! Who?
DONTRAG – All the orcs, pretty much.
TAKTANI – That’s so mean! Why would they do that to the orcies?
DONTRAG – I guess they were kind of mad about how we invaded from another world and… like… destroyed Stormwind and stuff.
TAKTANI – What?! Why would you do that?!
DONTRAG – Uh, dunno.
UTVOCH – Uh, guys?
DONTRAG – I think it was Garrosh’s dad’s idea or something.
TAKTANI – I don’t think I like these stories.
UTVOCH – Guys? Down here…
(Oops! I guess I got kind of distracted talking to Mr. D! It’s a good thing Mr. U was smart and kept watching Mr. Gurtash while we were talking! I guess Mr. Gurtash did okay with the big piggy he was fighting, but while he was doing that, some mean piggy men saw him and came over to try to hurt him! I remember there were piggy quillboar people like them in Mulgore, too, and they always used to cause trouble for everybody. I didn’t know they come here and try to hurt the orcies, too! OMG are they part of the Alliance too?!
(Oops I got distracted again! Mean silly quillies! But the mean quilly men were trying to hurt Mr. Gurtash — Boo! — and he tried to protect himself but there were three of them and only one of him. And Mr. D and I were busy talking about the war that I still don’t like and it seems really bad and not fun. But Mr. U was still watching and saw what was happening so he ran down to help Mr. Gurtash fight them. Once he was there helping, it didn’t take very long for them to win. At least, I think. Did I mention Mr. D and I weren’t really watching? Oops! But Mr. U won! Yay! He must be very strong to beat all the mean quillies all quick. I’m glad he’s on our side.
(I still don’t like how we have a war, though. It makes me sad. But Mr. Warchief is smart and I bet he’ll think of a way to make it stop!)
So, that’s it for Tak’s report. Actually, strictly speaking, there was three or four more pages of it, but those mostly consisted of pictures of butterflies and some of Tak’s highly nuanced views on ice cream and sugar cookies. So I figure I don’t need to subject everyone to that.
So… maybe not a flying-colors success for this plan. At least the kid had some backup. I mean, I’ve seen the scouting reports on those quillboar near Razor Hill. One of the reasons we’ve mostly left them alone is that they’re actually pretty weak and don’t pose any real threat to the town (Yeah, yeah, I know, some of you might have been told otherwise while you were working your way through Razor Hill on training assignments, but that’s just a little white lie to keep the busyworkers busy). Weak enough that even as a trainee, Gurtash shouldn’t have had that much trouble taking three of them — maybe even four — all by his lonesome.
So… more work to do. Back to the drawing board. I’ll come up with something.
More soon.
[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Monday mailbag
Okay, time to dip into the ol’ mailbag. You all know how this works, so here we go…
Thank you so much for your generous response. Lyssa was so happy that she got a little frisky, which always makes me happy, you know what I mean. 😉 (She is a cat most of the time, after all.) I sympathize with your frustrations due to expenditures- having been a mother myself once (back when I was still “alive”, though not anymore, may the Goddess curse that human Arthas), I know all about the kinds of bills teens can ring up. (You really do need huge heaping mounds of gold. Like, a dragon’s hoard worth.)
In appreciation, please find enclosed your very own PMS device. It is soft and fluffy and purrs very convincingly, and it may prove a distraction for Shayari as well, if she likes kittens. (Especially if it is wearing a bow or ribbons.)
PMS? That stands for Personal Mylune Survival device. Why? What did you think it meant?
In any event, having been told that the idiot human Varian sometimes reads these letters and your responses, I have a message for him.
Varian- Fuck you! You are a moron- when a ten-thousand year old-plus matriarch (that means ruler) of an entire race of people (two, if you count my ancestors) nods and asks you to tell her what to do, she is NOT SERIOUS, she is MOCKING YOU. Do you really think that you have seen more combat, acquired more experience, discovered more tactics, and learned more strategy than her in all her years? She even only tolerates Malfurion (on the rare occasions when he stops napping) because his furry bear feet keep her toes warm- she has plenty of other options in a nation where the men usually and regularly go into comas for centuries.
From TWO Elven nations: FUCK YOU, VARIAN! (Also, I think Mylune would be a perfect wife for you. Or maybe Magatha.)
(Apologies to you, Dear Warchief, I’ll try to keep it shorter next time, if there is one)
–Sintra E’Drien (and her mate Lyssa Nightblossom)
ps. Thalassian Brandy tastes very good. 😉
Hey again, Sintra. Okay, so you know what? There were a bunch of things in this letter that I was going to respond to, but they all kind of got lost in this big blur of FUCK YOU, VARIAN. Especially the part about Tyrande Who’s-Her-Whisper actually mocking ol’ King Ponytail when he thinks he’s being all badass and shit. And the part about him being a moron. And the part about him getting paired off with Mylune. Mind you, if miracles of entertainment happened and Varian DID get himself hitched to Mylune, we’d have to make sure that nobody hooked him up with one of those PMS devices, because we can’t rob ourselves of the hilarity by letting Varian distract her with something small and furry. Plus, trust me, I’ve met Varian — dude has enough PMS all by himself, without anybody sending him the anti-Mylune device.
Although, this does occur to me, there might be a market in developing a line of anti-whoever gear. Like the Mylune one is a no-brainer — make something small and furry that makes cutesy purring noises, then when you see Mylune, toss it one direction and get your ass moving in another. Golden. But you could totally market a bunch of these. Like you could build an anti-Tirion device that’s like a mannequin with a face that looks all interested, that plays a recording of someone going “Tell me more! I want to hear all about it!” Or you could do an anti-Velen device that’s just a big sign that says “Burning Legion invading — planetary exit this way!” Or you could do an anti-Magatha device that basically consists of Gorehowl chopping her into little tiny pieces because fuck her.
Obviously, I’m just spitballing here.
Oh, and also: agreed on the Thalassian Brandy.
Greetings, Warchief, and Light’s blessing to you!
As that last letter caused quite a stir, what with a possible war on my hands, as well as having to use an ink substitute (it’s scorpion poison, so don’t lick it!) I’m afraid that I cannot convey quite as much information onto you as I would like. But, as literal a lady as I may be, I have picked up the hints and I have no doubt that this is exceptionally great news to you! Nonetheless, I still have time to explain the situation before I begin.
I have my ways and means regarding paper, the first being the nearby logging camp. Did you know that place was infested with spiders quite a bit, recently? Now, I am a woman of few fears, and I am hesitant to say that spiders are among those few fears. They just have too many legs. The natives of Azeroth have proven that only two is necessary! Not to mention they have no real function other than devour more threatening prey, but even so, that’s disgusting and they are as good as abberations to me. Nonetheless, the spiders have been vanquished and our lumber is safe again! Not that it never was, of course. I simply no longer fear strolling down and requesting more wood for paper! Since the Kal’dorei have no authorities over the wood in the Western Plaguelands, I think I shouldn’t have to worry too much about a war. As a precaution, I asked both my lovely Anaria Moonseeker and Miss L’Rayne why the forests were so sacred to them. They both laughed and I never really got my answer. Of course, we were all after a few cups at the time, so I might try approaching them again when we’re sober. Nothing against my fellow Crusader or my sweet lady, not to mention the woman who raised me, but Night Elves are a peculiar people. Mind you, if they started ravaging Eversong Woods, I’d be miffed. I also am aware that this may draw the Night Elves’ attention back to yourself, but I’m sure you have the means to deal with it. After all, there are several Horde leaders but only one Warchief!
As for the scorpion poison, well, there are ways of compressing that to make it more visible on paper. It’s the same colour as the ink that I used before, thanks to a solution Anaria prepared, but it can still be toxic if you were to eat it. Since I’ve used it quite finely, you may simply experience some disorientation or sickness, but I don’t see that that being a problem, unless you eat paper. I just thought I’d let you in on that, in case you DID eat paper. Who am I to judge the Warchief’s culinary preferences? This piece of paper would be better off being tucked away and not eaten. I still have a fine stock of that scorpion poison, so now it’s only a matter of keeping the lumber mill going! I thought that this would be sufficient as a substitute for the ink that is slowly becoming less obtainable. I hope that the lovely young shaman Rue’kara can get her stationaries back soon! How unfortunate that her own letters are limited to such a pulp. She probably has so much to say, poor child. Anyhow! That’s that, and all problems solved!
It would seem a certain metal-beared goblin had quite a bit to say regarding my letters to you, sir. I, for one, am irate, but the ways of the Light have taught me that anger and resentment will only lead to a manifestation of regret and ever-building hatred, so I will bury the hatchet for now and try not to reference said goblin while the Light grants me the strength to repress such hatred. While this anger is still surging mightily, I have to agree on one point that he made; I haven’t really been of much help, have I?
Well, even though I was not present, I know of your visits to Hearthglen through the town chatter, even though I was oblivious of the events that were taking place. See, I was travelling at the time, which I tend to do every few months or so, and when I came back, I did notice a sort of difference. A kind of hush, as though I’d just arrived after a tragic event had taken place. I felt inclined to ask the Highlord, and I did, but even he was at a loss for words, and that is truly saying something. I mean, really. Time travel is…something I am somewhat familiar with. That being said, I know of a bronze dragon, although the identity is to be kept secret for her sake. I haven’t actually travelled backwards through time, nor forwards, but I visited the Caverns of Time, and I saw some of the rifts here and there pulling and tugging, as though the place felt a turn when I entered it. Somehow, I feel slightly connected to it. It’s a sensation that I cannot describe well, but there’s a familiarity about it that I am trying to make sense of, as though I’d been there before. Maybe an alternate me? Wow, I wonder what she does for a living. My bronze friend gave me a little information on how time works, and how she’s travelled on it previously, but as you may have learned, bronze dragons are as cryptic as any old soothsayer or rambling prophet, (which is extremely annoying since they might actually have ANSWERS for us, whereas prophets just ramble on and on and on…) and since I can’t get any answers from her regarding that particular feeling, I have dropped the matter entirely and haven’t been there since. Still, I’ve never stopped wondering…
While this is irrelevant to what you and this doctor Faranell you mentioned had to experience, I simply want to extend a warning, given everything I have learned thus far through my readings of history. The Old Gods corrupted one Aspect, Deathwing, but he was not the only one that was used to their advantage. The Old Gods want nothing more than to see our world in endless agony, and so they invaded Nozdormu’s realm and succeeded in opening a rift in time, so that they could alter the events of the War of the Ancients and give the dark lord, Sargeras, a fresh attempt to enter the world. If not for the efforts of Malfurion Stormrage, these cursed entities would have succeeded, and Azeroth would have been lost to madness. The Bronze Dragonflight are a mighty race, sir, but we all have our weaknesses, even Nozdormu himself. Had he suspected such a travesty, he surely would have prevented it.
We know that there are multiple timelines out there, and we know that, without the assistance of the Bronze Dragonflight, the events of the entwined timeways wouldn’t have been resolved. Be wary, good sir. You must place your trust in those you know can be trusted, and no-one else. If the Bronze Dragonflight fell to the same corruption as Neltharion, our world would be undone as you know it. After all, Algalon had already decided that it wasn’t worth saving. Let us prove him wrong. Let us protect Azeroth as best we can.
With regards to being of any use to you, I’d merely have you know that I do not plan on leaving Hearthglen for quite some time, so should you decide to make a visit in the meantime, know that I shall stand at your service and grant you the hospitality which you seek. It’s the least I can do. Thank you for your time.
P.S Did you really get a Zandaliri troll to perform a lapdance for you? How much did it cost?
Go in peace, good sir.
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade
Hoo boy. Here we go.
Hello again, Sarlin. Nice to…hear from you. Again.
As that last letter caused quite a stir,
As in, people stirring up poisonous drinks to kill themselves with.
what with a possible war on my hands,
Well, you know, the many, many trees you’ve wiped out to make paper were only going to take so much.
as well as having to use an ink substitute (it’s scorpion poison, so don’t lick it!)
I really wonder what you think I do with my time that you felt this warning was necessary.
I’m afraid that I cannot convey quite as much information onto you as I would like.
Oh thank the spirits. Maybe we’ll manage to be in and out of here in less than a month.
Nonetheless, I still have time to explain the situation before I begin.
Well, so much for that idea. Here we go, kids. Grab a drink, and maybe a snack, and maybe the next two or three days’ meals, and strap in.
Did you know that place was infested with spiders quite a bit, recently? Now, I am a woman of few fears, and I am hesitant to say that spiders are among those few fears. They just have too many legs. The natives of Azeroth have proven that only two is necessary!
Dude, I fucking hate spiders. They’re all gross and crawly and, like you said, they have way more legs than any self-respecting person should ever have, and let’s not even get started on the eyes. I fucking hate things with creepy extra eyes. Plus there was that time up in Stonetalon when the head troll dude in Malaka’jin told me there was some Queen Silith who wanted to meet with me, only GUESS WHAT, turns out she was this GIANT FUCKING SPIDER. LONG LIVE THE FUCKING QUEEN. Except for the part where I killed her.
As a precaution, I asked both my lovely Anaria Moonseeker and Miss L’Rayne why the forests were so sacred to them. They both laughed and I never really got my answer.
It’s the glitter. Night elves love them some glitter, and the trees in their forests leak the stuff like sap. Someday I want to find out just what the fuck is the deal with that, like what kind of trees ooze fucking GLITTER out of their bark, and why they only seem to grow around nigh elves.
I mean, I’m pretty sure Thalassian Brandy would like to know. She could have a personal supply of the stuff right there on hand.
As for the scorpion poison, well, there are ways of compressing that to make it more visible on paper. It’s the same colour as the ink that I used before, thanks to a solution Anaria prepared, but it can still be toxic if you were to eat it. Since I’ve used it quite finely, you may simply experience some disorientation or sickness, but I don’t see that that being a problem, unless you eat paper.
Wait… disorientation? You mean to say you can be HIGH on this shit? No wonder there are always so many trolls always hanging around the inscription place in the Drag.
I hope that the lovely young shaman Rue’kara can get her stationaries back soon! How unfortunate that her own letters are limited to such a pulp. She probably has so much to say, poor child.
Yeah, you know what? I think you’ve got the “so much to say” pretty well covered. Let’s not drag Ruekie into this.
It would seem a certain metal-beared goblin had quite a bit to say
Hi, pot. This is Sarlin. You’re black.
I, for one, am irate, but the ways of the Light have taught me that anger and resentment will only lead to a manifestation of regret and ever-building hatred,
The next time you two chat, could you ask the Light what the fuck it’s talking about?
I have to agree on one point that he made; I haven’t really been of much help, have I?
Oh geez, why do I get the feeling she’s about to start Dontragging? Like, even more?
I was travelling at the time, which I tend to do every few months or so, and when I came back, I did notice a sort of difference. A kind of hush, as though I’d just arrived after a tragic event had taken place. I felt inclined to ask the Highlord, and I did, but even he was at a loss for words, and that is truly saying something. I mean, really.
STOP THE FUCKING PRESSES, SHOCKING NEWS WITH AN IRONIC LOOK-WHO’S-TALKING CHASER
I haven’t actually travelled backwards through time, nor forwards, but I visited the Caverns of Time, and I saw some of the rifts here and there pulling and tugging, as though the place felt a turn when I entered it. Somehow, I feel slightly connected to it. It’s a sensation that I cannot describe well, but there’s a familiarity about it that I am trying to make sense of, as though I’d been there before. Maybe an alternate me? Wow, I wonder what she does for a living.
I’ll bet you anything she’s not a mime.
We know that there are multiple timelines out there, and we know that, without the assistance of the Bronze Dragonflight, the events of the entwined timeways wouldn’t have been resolved. Be wary, good sir.
Dude, are you seriously giving ME a speech on not getting mixed up in timeline fuck-uppery? Hey, I’ve got an idea, how about I get Faranell in here and you can give him a whole speech about making sure he doesn’t get himself unstuck in time for like a zillion years. Earth Online says hello:
With regards to being of any use to you, I’d merely have you know that I do not plan on leaving Hearthglen for quite some time,
Well at least I know where not to go for the next month or two.
Thank you for your time.
Well you fucking well burned up enough of it.
Speaking of which. When you write back — BECAUSE I KNOW YOU WILL — you are officially getting the modified Twitter treatment. Are you reading carefully? Go grab some of your not-for-snack-time paper and scorpion ink, and write this down: YOU ARE OFFICIALLY ON A 250-WORD LIMIT FOR ALL FUTURE LETTERS. Or, what the hell, if you want to go OVER 250 words, whatever, knock yourself out, but I am going to STOP READING at word #250. Are we clear on this? Are we good? Okay? Good.
Fucking hell. I don’t get paid enough for this job. I really don’t.
Greetings once again Warchief Hellscream. I come bearing ill tidings from Towlong Steppes. I was out leading some of your Horde adventurers through and giving them a Lay of the land while on the way for clean up duty on the Isle of Thunder. Along the way, we passed by a giant eel, G’nathus. The undead warrior and orc shaman decided that it might be a bit of fun to go and test themselves against such a creature. I agreed, if only to keep them alive against such a beast. At first, it seemed to go very well. The warrior took electrocution like nothing I had ever seen before! Then a squid came from nowhere and decided to see if my totems were filled with beer (they’re keg-shaped, you see)! That sadly broke all my concentration and we were forced to flee, but not without some injuries. The poor shaman was smacked around, almost worse than the warrior! Thank the Celestials for ahnks, by the way!
Before this old man babbles for too much longer, I must regretfully inform you that the Shado-Pan has decided to bill the Horde for the loss of precious reagents and my totems. Not that I require the financial compensation, but Lord Zhu insists! Really! He started going on about the outsiders bringing ruin to our land again. It is a very…tiring speech.
Regretfully yours,
–Shen Wei Pureblossom
You do not get to talk about “tiring speeches” immediately after Sarlin’s letter.
That said… Hang on, you mean I’m getting stuck with ANOTHER bill? Is this how things work for that panda-Tirion Zhu guy? Something happens that you don’t like, so you ring up an itemized list to send along to whoever you can? Not to mention, I just finished LOOKING OVER the aforementioned itemized list, and are you fucking KIDDING me? What are your totems fucking MADE of, diamonds?! I thought they were listing the price in coppers when I saw that shit. What the fuck is the exchange rate down there? Does 500 gold mean something different to you people than it does up here? Did you fucking switch to the metric system or some shit? WTF?!
And let’s not even get STARTED on the reagents! I’m going over this list, and there is LITERALLY nothing on here that I can’t walk over to the Valley of Wisdom and buy for pocket change. DON’T BELIEVE ME, COME ON BY. DISCOUNT ANKHS ON ME.
Actually.
Hang on.
It just occurred to me — if this invoice of yours even REMOTELY resembles the actual prices of reagents down there in Pandaria, and it’s not just Zhu’s-his-face gouging me with like an 8000% markup, this might be an opportunity to put a dent in the ol’ Shayari-induced cash flow problem. Because if I can buy this shit HERE for like 20 silver a pop, then bring it on down to Pandaria and sell it to you pandas for a hundred times that, and STILL be way below Scarf Boy’s asking price… Hmm…
Spirits help me, I’m starting to think like a goblin. CONGRATULATIONS, UNIVERSE, YOU WIN AGAIN.
Meanwhile… you mean to say, you were going about your business, and a fucking SQUID came swimming over just to try to dip into your keg totems? What kind of a fucking dumbass squid is that? Is it some kind of Dontrag squid? Because that seems like something he would do. Or Utvoch. Whichever one of them it is. Maybe the other one was the eel or something. Eelvoch, maybe. Ellvoch and Dontrag-the-Squid. Why the fuck not. Seems to match up brainpower-wise.
I’m Valinora. Don’t ask any questions. I’m here for one thing and one thing only; EPIC VERSE.
I had a scroll through the mailbags and I saw a little introduction suggested by one of your readers. Hope you don’t mind if I do the same. By the way, you OWNED Varian. I dare you to go up against Thrall next time. Hate that guy. He didn’t steal anybody’s bacon, he stole all their pigs, forced them to make the bacon and then claimed to have made it himself. Ugh.
Anyway. A topic that I’m sure you’ll have no hesitation with, given your…knowledge of felweed.
“By now, he had one joint too many,”
Go!
–Valinora “Lightshorn”, Stormwind City.
Oh, hey, check it — somebody who gets right to the point. It’s like you’re the anti-Sarlin or something. First off, though:
Now granted, you didn’t exactly endear yourself to me with the Garry thing (and I mean, seriously, people, isn’t it getting old at this point? Even the basic campfire joke fizzled out faster than this) (Get it? Campfire? Fizzled out? BA DUM BUM), and plus there’s the small matter that you appear to be HUMAN. On the other hand, you DID get to the point of your letter before wiping out enough trees to render hundreds of poor disadvantaged night elf strippers glitterless, and then you topped that off by having the good sense to know a good ol’ EPIC VERSE thrashing of King Vajayjay when you see it. Additional kudos for getting a good jab in at Thrall, because man oh man has HE been on a one-way trip to Insufferable City. Dude might as well take his vainglorious ass over to the vaingloryhole and fucking blow himself there, at the rate he’s going.
Anyway, you got to the point, you delivered a good burn on EACH side of the faction divide, and what the hell, I’m not one to pass up a chance to lay down a little EPIC VERSE. So here we go. YOU ASK, GARROSH DELIVERS.
By now, he had one joint too many.
(Point of fact, he’d gone over by twenty.)
Came down with giggle fits,
Would have lost all his wits,
If to start with he’d even had any.
In his stupor he thought he’d go swimming,
With a head that with felweed was brimming;
So he and his buddy —
Whose mind, too, was muddy —
Jumped in while their dimwits were dimming.
So in their felweed-fueled delusion,
They swam off to sea in seclusion;
They went round and round,
And when they were found,
They managed to cause more confusion:
I don’t know how much felweed they did,
But one moron thought he was a squid,
While his buddy, with zeal,
Thought that he was an eel,
While around in the waters they slid.
So when they encountered bystanders,
They thought that they’d caught a gander
Of a beer-party kegger,
So up like a beggar,
The stupid squid chose to meander.
He made a big mess seeking brew,
Now I’m stuck with the bill for those two.
I’m pissed off, but whatever —
You know you can’t ever
Spell “dumbass” without D and U.
You asked for some rhymes, so I wrote ’em,
About morons who smashed up some totems.
They’re going to need hearses —
At least some good nurses,
’Cause they’re gonna get stabbed in their scrotums.
EPIC VERSE!
Okay, that’s going to do it for this time. As always, keep those letters coming!
[Next mailbag December 7! E-mail the Warchief using the link at the top of the right sidebar, or use the handy form below:]
Monday mailbag
Time to dip back into the ol’ mailbag. Let’s see what we’ve got this time around…
Firstly, I thank you for accepting Grimjaw into the Kor’kron fold, and hope he will serve you well; secondly, my apologies for the depressive content of my letters – it was not my intention to “bring the room down”.
Instead, I will share some good news with you: my son has taken to training as a warrior and will be ready to take his Om’riggor – his rite of passage – next year, and my daughter has taken to learning the shamanic arts. I have high hopes for both of them.
Also, there’s something I think you should hear, Warchief. Another of my wolves – Golmash, I call him, after your grandfather, whose legend is known even to me – has a black pelt and a set of eerie green eyes. And I don’t mean in the dark, slimy green of a swamp so much as a strange, otherworldly glare. I didn’t think anything of it the first time I noticed, but since then I’ve been feeling strangely ill-at-ease whenever he looks at me. I did some research into the nature of these eyes and what I’ve found… is both confusing and disturbing.
On one hand, the eye colour is not unique or unnatural (so far as anyone can tell); on the other hand, only one particular wolf dynasty has ever had them, and rarely so. This dynasty, dubbed “moonwolf”, lived in Shadowmoon Valley until the arrival of the Legion and the corruption of the land that ensued, and the last known scion of this lineage was Skychaser, the companion of Ner’zhul. The fate of the fallen Great Shaman is well-known, but no one knows what happened to his wolf.
I have never had any encounter with that particular lineage, and so far as I can tell, Golmash is strictly of Frostwolf and Nagrandeur descent; thus, the cause of his haunting eyes remains a mystery. How should I proceed from here, Warchief? I am loathe to create a problem where there is none, but something in my gut tells me sinister things are afoot.
Yours faithfully,
–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master
Hey again, Ogunaro. Grimjaw’s gotten settled in over at the Kor’kron stables. I’ve been over to have a look at him, and he IS a pretty fine looking wolf. Like I mentioned last time, I’ve got something in mind for him, but it’s going to be a little bit before I get that going. The timing is kind of up in the air for the time being, but hopefully things will fall into place soon. I’ll keep you updated as things go.
As for this mystery wolf of yours (appreciate the shout-out to Golmash, by the way… well, unless it turns out there’s something seriously fishy going on with him, in which case, gee, thanks for dragging my grandfather into it)… that does sound pretty weird. I can’t say I’ve run into any glowy green-eyed wolves myself, and I’ve ridden more than my share over the years. Still, I don’t want to start running around cooking up crazy stories and conspiracy theories, especially when you sound like you’ve got a good sense of the line this wolf came from. So for right now, what I’d recommend is keeping a close watch on him and maybe keep him apart from your other wolves when you’re not able to monitor them. Is there anything strange about his behavior? How does he get along with the other wolves? Or with you, for that matter? Anything you’ve noticed about him that’s different from most wolves, OTHER than the green eyes?
This is definitely worth monitoring, but I don’t want to start panicking straight away. The Ner’zhul connection is creepy as fuck, but I also don’t put a lot of stock in ghost stories. Unless the ghost in question is one of those bankers down at the Undercity, because funny enough, those dudes actually DO come up with some pretty good stock tips. FYI.
Grats on your kids coming along with their training, by the way. Are they working with anyone in the military trainee program, or has it been individual class training so far? I’ve got a bunch of trainees studying under me, but then you probably already knew that if you read the blog. Your son’s coming up on his om’riggor next year, huh? He must be pretty advanced at this point, in that case. I’m hoping some of mine will be ready for the rite before too long, but right now that’s pretty dependent on…well, a bunch of things. No need to belabor ’em with you. I’m sure you know the drill. Next year would be pretty nice, though.
Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on what’s up with Grimjaw. And the other wolf thing.
It seems serendipity brought me and your little “trainee” together. But I’ll elaborate on that in a moment. First, let me tell you that Boulderfist purchased our computer equipment from a rather enterprising goblin shaman and obtained our Internet as spoils of war from the Shadow Council. How they can be smart enough to create working Internet here on Outland and yet foolish enough to serve the Burning Legion is beyond me, but then there it is. Now about your trainee…
I was naturally curious when several of my ogres came wandering up the hill to me complaining about an outbreak of headaches. As it happens, they had incurred these headaches from being repeatedly smashed in the face (and other places) with a shield by an eager, cheerful little orc girl with a potbelly worthy of a ogre woman (few of them that there are). How fortunate that she isn’t as good at killing ogres as she thinks; I settled for reproaching my men for being stupid enough to let a orcling child knock the stuffing out of them. Some claim the ordeal has left them dumber – but frankly, dear Hellscream, I doubt that very much, and if it has, it hasn’t made that much difference.
At any rate, even allowing for the fact that she didn’t know about our truce, as I discovered when I caught her lurking around the Laughing Skull Ruins watching that brute of a shaman Mogor pounding a group of fledgling Alliance “heroes” into the ground and confronted her, there is a certain principle about truces that has to be upheld – namely, the principle that you don’t attack the people you have a truce with. So when I learned of this Jorin Blackeye or whatever his name was continuing to send adventurers after my ogres, I decided a response was called-for.
We lured him out of Garadar under the pretense of discussing a peace settlement concerning the village of Halaa with the Kurenai Broken, and there I confronted him about his actions. I had hoped to settle things in a reasonable way, but not only did he spout some nonsense about “no forgiveness” and whatnot, he took the time to pass comment about my Burning Blade heritage before he started to walk away. After that… well, it’s very embarassing. He sort of walked right into my blade. Face-first, no less. And my blade brushed against his one good eye. All completely by accident. How very careless of the both of us.
Anyway, given that he was using that eye for no-good purposes, perhaps it is an acceptable casualty. I hear he has not dared show his face in public since then – with an injury like that, I know I wouldn’t – and that his clan are electing a new leader. Hopefully they’ll be more understanding from now on.
By the way, speaking of Mogor, the brute and I have reached an accord: a permanent end to the fighting between our clans and the merging of Boulderfist and Warmaul into a single clan, as it was long ago, under the name Burning Skull (somehow, Laughing Blade just doesn’t have the same ring to it). We’re interested in signing on with your Horde – I admit, I’m curious about meeting another of my own kind, even if she is very different from me, and the contribution I can offer you seems like a fitting gesture.
Mogor has portalled us to a small goblin harbour in the Barrens. We’ll be in Grommash Hold soon to discuss terms.
–Lantresor of the Blade
Okay, you know what? Not going to lie. Not a whole lot registered other than the part about Jorin getting a little what-for. In the face. Jorin Blackeye indeed. Heh. HeheheHAH. HAHAHAHA. Such a dick.
So wait, did you actually get his eye, or JUST graze him, or what? I get that you did some damage, but eyes are tricky territory, and even a little extra flick of the blade one way or the other could… hmm… you know, come to think of it, probably best not to dwell on it. I’ll probably end up hearing through channels soon enough.
So speaking of trainees, you realize that when Mirembe sees your letter, of all the stuff you brought up, all she’s going to notice is the “potbelly” part, right? I can almost hear the letter landing in my inbox now.
Also, eesh, surprise guests. I better have Marogg whip up some food to greet these people with when they get here. I wonder if he still has any of that Darkspear rice sitting around for his jambalaya. Pretty tasty stuff, actually, as long as the rice wasn’t sitting around trollville for too long, in which case you end up getting this weird dizzy feeling if you eat too much of it.
I was perusing this here blog and I noticed the letter you got from Lantresor. Now, readin’ between the lines here I gotta say… it sounds like that is one lonely half-orc-half-draenei dude lookin’ to get all buddy-buddy with the father of the — *looks around nervously and makes a circuit of the room listening for stealthy swoosh sounds* — youngest and most attractive of the only two lady half-orc-half-draenei girls in the world. Which makes me question his motivations, if you hear what I’m sayin’ and know what I mean.
Not that Shayari can’t handle herself or deal with unwanted attention, but… I’m just sayin’…
Also, not for nothin’, but I hear that Lantresor is a huge complainer. An acquaintance of mine worked with him for a while, and all he ever did was whine, whine, whine. “How long are we going to stay here?” And, “I miss the grassy plains of Nagrand!” Oh boo hoo hoo! Drove everyone else bonkers.
Have a good one!
–Khizzara.
Oh, PS: I dropped a buncha flowers off for Gurtash. Wish I could do something more, but as a mage I’d probably only make things worse. And as a goblin, I might uh, make him explode. Kinda counterproductive for the healin’.
Yeah, that Lantresor guy is…
Hang on.
…
<thinks>
…
Oh FUCKING HELL, SERIOUSLY?
I… he… you mean… HOW THE FUCK OLD IS THAT GUY, ANYWAY?
I’m… suddenly feeling a strange craving for dead ogres.
Wait, that would mean giving Jorin the satisfaction. And not for anything, but I refuse to live in a universe where Jorin Blackeye—erm, I mean Deadeye… is validated.
And yet.
Fuck. Rock and a hard place.
HANG ON HANG ON HE’S ON HIS WAY HERE TOO, LIKE SOON AND SHIT.
Dammit. If he’s out cruising for half-orc, half-draenei action… maybe I can pull a bait-and-switch on him? I wonder if Garona’s doing anything this week. I could invite her to attend whatever reception I end up stuck holding for these people and really lay it on thick about how much I’d like her to be there and OH SHIT NEVER MIND THAT’S JUST GOING TO GIVE HER IDEAS.
Fucking hell, this parenting shit isn’t as easy as people make it out to be. UGH.
I apologize for disturbing you, when as your loyal subject it should be my duty to relieve your stresses, not add to them, but I have a delicate question for you. (by the way, could you please appoint us Blood Elves a Regent? I got a rude note from someone calling himself “Bob” saying you had named a Lord Invincible to the post, but I’ve never seen him . . . ?)
Anyhow, I . . . met a girl. Cat. Woman. Druid. Ummm, she’s really really beautiful, and she loves it when I pet her, and she purrs when we take naps in the sunlight, and we love to just stare into each others’ eyes when she’s a cat. Not a small cat, a big black panther. But anyways, I met her as part of trying to research help for my . . . not quite alive condition. She’s with the Cenarion Circle, and I guess they had a grudge against orcs for killing Cenarius, only he’s not dead anymore so that’s ok, I hope. We started spending time together, and slaughtering murlocs, and I found out that when we’re together I can feel my heart beating again. Umm . . . is it ok that she’s a Night Elf? We stay at her cave in Moonglade when I’m not on assignment, so she won’t disturb any members of the Horde.
Hopefully,
–Sintra E’Drien of Silvermoon.
Ps. Shouldn’t Loktar Ogar mean something more like “My Victory, Their Death!”?
I… Hang on, when did this mailbag turn into the fucking Dating Game?
So hold it, Sintra, are you seriously asking me to sign off on you shacking up with a freaking NIGHT ELF? I mean, I already had ENOUGH of a headache just recently dealing with Mokvar’s human chick, and as far as I can gather SHE’S at least his EX-wife, as opposed to whatever the fuck you have going on that’s just in the early magical bloom of insert-your-greeting-card-bullshit-romantic-cliche-here.
And so, on top of the night elf part, she’s a druid, and from the sound of it you spend most of your time together with her in cat form? And you’re still technically dead… and… I don’t even KNOW what the fuck that is, like now you’re just doing the backstroke around a giant cocktail glass loaded up with some spiritsforsaken concoction of bestiality and (reverse?) necrophilia and disloyalty and furry and OMG. I mean the only part of that whole damn part of it that I can sign off on is the whole “slaughtering murlocs” thing, because let’s face it, who’s not down for good wholesome murloc slaughter? Other than the murlocs, I suppose. But who knows, maybe not. I know if I were a murloc, I would fucking hate me.
Hang on, though.
Jog my memory here, Sintra… aren’t you a blood elf chick? Because if so, and she’s… that might…
<thinks>
No. No. Never mind. Sticking with the dead-murloc-lone-highlight position. The end. Turn the page. Ahem.
I’ll be in my bunk.
[Keep those letter coming! Send e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com or use the form below. Next mailbag July 6!]
Divine do-over
So I think the internet has decided it doesn’t want me playing Earth Online for the time being. Spazzle was right – this is what I get for trusting Grizzle Gearslip to set up a stable network. Remind me to stick with construction and excavation projects for him from now on.
Probably just as well. I have more important things to be focusing on right now.
First and foremost in the “more important things” file: We’re back in business on the Divine Bell front – and then some. Courtesy, believe it or not, of some clutch work from one of the blood elves. I know, right? I won’t hold it against you if you need to go back and read that again to make sure you got it right. Anyway – Fanlyr Silverthorn was able to work some Kirin Tor mojo to sneak a Horde operative into Darnassus, where the Divine Bell was being held, then teleported it out to Silvermoon. That’s right, the night elves worked so hard to get to the Bell before us, tucked it away deep in the heart of their capital city…for like fifteen minutes, before they had it swiped right out from under them. Oh man, would I love to have seen the looks on their faces when they figured out what happened.
Of course, you would think that this would come across as GOOD news to anyone on the Horde side of the fence, but spirits forbid I should ever have a conversation with Lor’themotherfucker that didn’t involve him crying and moaning and wetting his panties over something. And let me tell you, he was in fine form this time around. I could barely even figure out what the fuck he was bitching about, something about his people being put in harm’s way or some such (as if people never, EVER get put in harm’s way in the middle of, you know, A FUCKING WAR), and Jaina being pissed off about something (as if THAT’S ever a bad thing). Seriously, I don’t know what hair he’s got up his ass, but enough is enough. Calm down already. Don’t flip a bench, Lori.
Anyway, I’m having the Divine Bell transported to Pandaria pronto so we can get to work. We found another ancient mogu structure in Kun-Lai that should make for a good site to conduct the first of what should be many glorious uses of the Bell. I’m having Malkorok hand-pick some of the very best of his Kor’kron to stand guard and participate in the proceedings. I’m also having Ishi head up that way to supervise the setup of the Bell and help me with the first trial. Hopefully, after Burzum went all sha-batty on us, and Krimpatul went MIA with the rest of the…casualties…at the Temple of the Red Crane, and Ishi himself got beaten to the Divine Bell by the damn night elves, well, hopefully I’ll have a blademaster finally do my Mag’har proud and help put a win on the board for us.
Once we tap into the power of the Bell – and by extension, the power of this “sha” magic – we’ll wield a power unlike anything either side has seen in this war. And unlike the mogu, we won’t be leaving our enemies any room to rise up against us. Never again.
Fear leads to anger
Well, Elder Cloudfall arrived at Domination Point today – with monkey boy Zhi-Zhi in tow, no less – just in time to get treated to one of the very cheeriest of my cheerful moods. Because no sooner was he on the premises than messengers arrived with a no-kidding-around one-two punch of suck.
So for starters, Ishi and his team of Kor’kron reached that mogu tomb that our scouts located, and were able to confirm that it IS the place that Shan Kien told us about…and then let a team of night elf Sentinels get in there FIRST. Because SURE, WHY THE FUCK NOT, with the way this week has been going, right? For fuck’s sake, how did the night elves even fucking KNOW about the tomb? And they manage to get there AHEAD of us to boot?
Oh, but hey, don’t worry, because even though the night elves got the jump on us, Ishi and his people fought their way into the tomb and hacked their way through the elves, until they reached the Dentinel leader right on top of the Divine Bell…just in time to watch her SNAP IT UP AND HOP THROUGH A FUCKING PORTAL TO DARNASSUS. DON’T MY MINIONS HAVE THE MOST SPECTATCULAR FUCKING TIMING?
Awesome. JUST FUCKING AWESOME.
Oh, oh, but hang on, we’re not done with the parade of fantastic news yet.
As if losing the Divine Bell wasn’t bad enough…you know how I’d sent a detachment with Commander Scargash to that panda temple to set up an early-warning outpost for Alliance activity? Well, they didn’t need to show much patience waiting for some Alliance activity to monitor, because as it turns out, they were attacked this morning by an Alliance force – led by Varian him-fucking-self. Because apparently dude has nothing better to do with his time. Based on the initial reports, losses for our side were near-total. Including the Commander. And very well also included…never mind. I’m not letting myself think about it until we’ve had a chance to send some scouts to confirm. But based on everything we have to go on at this point, it looks pretty damn bad.
I swear, if another messenger comes in here today with anything remotely resembling bad news, they’d better finish by naming their next of kin, because I would NOT want their life expectancy.
So now I get to spend the day with nothing to think about other than an assortment of things I DON’T want to think about. Like how Varian fucking rolled on in and cost us I don’t know HOW many good people. And how the Divine Bell — the key to my plans to tip the balance of power in this war – is now in the hands of our enemies. And spirits know WHAT Varian’s going to do once he gets HIS grubby paws on it. As if he hasn’t fucking done enough ALREADY.
Spirits save him when I finally get him in my sights again. They were KIDS, dammit, and…
No. Never mind. I can’t even.
So Cloudfall, meanwhile, HE can just cool his jets about this Kypari field trip of his. Right now I have bigger fish to fry than wandering off to the Land of Vague and Ominous. Much less when I’ve got other sources telling me there’s more bad news there for me to boot. We’ve already lost enough good people this week, thanks. I don’t think we need more volunteers. So he and his monkey sidekick can kick back and enjoy a little Horde hospitality until we’ve gotten a handle on things. Ben-Lin probably won’t mind keeping Cloudfall company for a couple days anyway, and as for Zhi-Zhi, hell, goofball that he is, I’ll bet the kids will really get a kick—
…
Never mind.
I really need to start remembering where that fucking delete key is.
…
I need to go. I think there’s a patrol leaving in a minute to do a sweep for Alliance intruders.
I need to go with them.
I need to kill something.
Monday, once again, Mailbag
Citizens of the Horde,
It is time once again for me to respond to the various and sundry missives that have found their way to me since last week. This time I seem to drawn the attention of some unlikely writers indeed…
Salutations and greetings under the Infinitely Holy Light, Varok Saurfang! It is my hope that, with the recent change in leadership in Orgrimmar, peace talks can at some point resume. I write to you regarding a terrible danger the seers of the Exodar have seen growing in the heart of the Horde. I speak not of the abominable Banshee Queen or the legions of unholy warlocks infesting your cities, but of a force very close to the center of the Horde – the (currently missing) Garrosh Hellscream. Have you seen him lately? Before he went missing, I mean. He looks rather terribly like a Fel Orc; I fear he has been suckling at the same festering hellteats from which his father supped. Please, if you know it, tell me the identity of the Pit Lord whose blood he has been drinking! The destruction of Hellscream’s demonic master will (once again) liberate the Horde from servitude in the Legion, to the great good of life throughout the Universe.
The Naaru have not forgotten you!
–Eliseth the Argent Champion, The Exodar, Azuremyst Isle
Firstly, having spent considerable time with Warchief Hellscream in Northrend, and being very much aware of his busy schedule since his move to Durotar, I can attest that no such transgressions have taken place as the drinking of demon blood. Moreover, good Eliseth, I am troubled by your willingness to jump to conclusions based solely on the Warchief’s appearance; his skin tone is well within the range of hues common to Mag’har orcs, particularly those who suffered from the red pox in their youth, and if your comment is in some way a reference to the Warchief’s (well-publicized) cranial idiosyncrasies, I believe Warchief Hellscream himself has addressed this matter on at least one occasion.
Rest assured, therefore, that there is no demonic influence at the heart of the Horde, and, by extension, you need not worry that the Burning Legion has set its eyes once again on Azeroth. Should the Legion indeed move against this world, you may further take comfort that we orcs will be ready to stand against them in defense of our home, and in so doing will almost certainly provide you and your eredar kin with ample time to pack. There are, I am sure, plenty of other worlds to which you might relocate while the rest of the “Universe” about which you clearly care so much undertakes to clean up after you.
Congratulations on your elevation to leadership of the Horde. I’m sure your peons are thrilled to have a competent commander grinding their faces into the mud of Durotar. I’m writing to inquire about a specific aspect of foreign policy instituted under the (hopefully) late and unlamented Warchief Hellscream (may his body never be found); specifically, his declaration that “all Kalimdor belongs to the Horde”. This claim is idiotic, unenforceable, and will serve only to utterly repudiate any overtures of peace you may wish to make. I advise you to rescind this edict, and withdraw back past the Southfury where you belong. Or preferably, all the way back to Draenor. Get off our planet, alien scum!
Sincerely,
–Sepharad of the Nightfall
Watcher
Darnassus, Teldrassil
Kalimdor (seriously, it belongs to the Kaldorei)
Azeroth (not your homeworld)
Greetings, Sepharad. If you will indulge my pedantry for a moment, I would like to elucidate a few linguistic and rhetorical points that you may find beneficial in future endeavors.
Specifically, there is a concept in argument generally referred to as “ethical appeal.” This notion, contrary to what might be suggested by its nomenclature, does not hinge on one’s “ethical” or moral goodness, but rather on the manifest ethos, or identity, which one presents in one’s interactions. Thus, for instance, one who presents oneself as gracious and even-handed is likely to prove more persuasive than one who conveys a persona of rudeness and closed-mindedness, by virtue of their relative ethical appeal.
With this in mind, I might suggest in future missives, should you wish to urge policy change from your reader, you may do well not to open, for instance, by insinuating derision for your reader’s entire society and its adopted home; or by openly hoping for the demise of individuals about whose safety you know your readers to be sincerely concerned; or by levying thinly veiled threats, employing racial slurs, or expressing outright hostility toward your audience. (I would also note, if you truly take such offense at “alien scum” taking up residence on other worlds, you may wish to craft an additional letter to Prophet Velen of your allies the draenei, as his people, if we are to carry out a cursory review of history, have developed something of a pattern of behavior along these lines.)
These are basic concepts of rhetoric, and it saddens me that such an ancient and storied culture as that of the night elves would apparently fail to properly educate its watchers. Lacking a compelling argument in its support, therefore, I feel I must decline your policy recommendation.
[If at first you don’t succeed, you clearly aren’t Saurfang. –Mkvr., ed.]
With that said, if you will pardon me, a chill has begun to drift into the room, so I believe I shall go now to add a log or two of Ashenvale lumber to the fireplace.
What’s up? Even though we goblins in Ratchet try to keep ourselves neutral to this whole Horde/Alliance thing, I do try to keep an eye on what’s going on in the major cities – especially since I have a few cousins in the Bilgewater Cartel living with you guys in Orgrimmar now. I noticed your post the other day about Garrosh’s wyvern getting loose, and I thought you’d be want to know about a weird moment we had here on the docks yesterday. I was hanging around here on the dock, minding my own business, when lo and behold a wyvern flies in and lands just a few yards away, and just sits around by the end of the dock. He wasn’t doing anything, not really even taking notice of anyone, just sitting there. The after a while, one of our ships came in from Booty Bay. The wyvern up and strolled onto the boat, sat himself back down, and just stayed there until the ship headed back out again.
Now, I don’t know if this was Garrosh’s wyvern. I don’t know what his wyvern looks like, other than, you know, looking like a wyvern, and I can’t say I could really tell one wyvern from another anyway. But I thought you might want to know about this.
–Wharfmaster Dizzywig, Ratchet
My thanks to you, Wharfmaster. This is interesting news indeed. While we cannot be certain that the wyvern you describe is the Warchief’s, its behavior certainly appears peculiar enough to merit investigation. I will notify our officers in Stranglethorn Vale of this development, and expand our scouting patrols to that region.
Greetings, Your Warchieferousness! I hope you’re having an absolutely splendid day. I am not having an absolutely splendid day because I keep bumping my head on the doorways here in the goblin slums. I may be the cutest undead killing machine ever to rise from the battlefields of the Third War, but terrible necromantic power has no effect on goblin architecture. Could you possibly see your way clear to annulling former acting Warchief Hellscream’s edict that all races “not strong enough” to defend Orgrimmar (anyone not a tauren or orc, in Hellscream’s piggy little eyes) be banished from the city? I am an implacable harbinger of icy death, and I’m worth at least two tauren anywhere outside a goblin barbeque. I know no fear! I know no pain! I am totally strong enough to defend Orgrimmar. I want my house back.
Yours,
–Twilight Vanquisher Aimee (Knight of the Ebon Blade, not the cake vendor), Frickin’ Goblin Slums
A pity, Aimee, that you aren’t the Aimee I recall from Northrend. Many were the evenings that I enjoyed one of her selections with my nightly Mok’nathal tea. I recall her red velvet cake was especially sumptuous. You might consider, in fact, looking into baking as a sideline, as I am sure you will find a great many fans should you demonstrate mastery in it; moreover, we find ourselves recently understaffed in Orgrimmar in the area of infantry cooks, so you may well find it a worthwhile avenue for career advancement.
Speaking of which, in a roundabout way, as you are a current resident of the goblin slums, how is the rice situation coming along? Markedly improved, I would hope.
At any rate, I realize that you are not the Aimee of cakery fame, though, again, I would urge you to consider my thoughts on the matter. Still, you certainly share a name of delicious connotation. (Have you considered adopting a pseudonym for combat purposes, incidentally? Though I do not doubt your martial prowess, I am unsure that “Aimee” strikes adequate fear into the hearts of your foes. Compare: “Run! Saurfang just cleaved the heads off of the general and his squire!” “Run! Aimee is accessorizing her Lovely Pink Dress!”)
Where were we again? You will pardon an old man for his tangents. Ah yes, the goblin slums.
Redistricting is indeed always a controversial issue, Aimee. I will endeavor to look into the matter, though the allocation of housing space in a high-demand, high-population area such as Orgrimmar is always precarious at best. In the interim, have you considered investigating real estate options in nearby Razor Hill? I am told suburban areas within easy commuting distance of the major urban centers often offer surprisingly reasonable rental costs. (I would suggest Bilgewater Harbor as another nearby option, but I believe you have clearly established your feelings on goblin neighborhoods.) Or, if you feel your happiness truly depends on residing in the city proper, perhaps the troll architecture of a few blocks north of you would be more suitable?
I will grant I am hardly a real estate expert – many years have passed since I paid off my mortgage on the old Nagrand split-level, and being as I am career military, I have myself always moved from one assigned quarters to the next – but I will attempt to look into matters further to see if anything can be done.
That is all the mail I have time to attend to his week; as always I thank you for your correspondence. I will, of course, continue to keep you posted on our unfolding operations, friends. Honor go with us all.
-Saurfang
Monday mailbag
So, back to business with a fresh mailbag. Sorry I missed last week, but after everything that went down in Stonetalon, I really wasn’t up to answering letters last Monday. Luckily that’s all in the past now, so I can get back to the blog and not be reminded of that whole disaster. Let’s see what we’ve got this week…
Blood and Thunder Warchief Hellscream,
I extend my thanks to you warchief for upon your visit to Stonetalon Mountains you weeded out the corruption and “relieved of duty” Overlord Krom’Gar. Although my wife and child could not be spared before your arrival I will take your lessons to heart “honor, no matter how dire the battle never forsake it.”
My Wife and Child are now buried and I laid their remains and would ask that you would only take a moment out of your day of mountainous paperwork to remember them and honor them. ‘Lok Tar Ogar, Victory or Death’ mighty Warchief.
–High Chieftian Cliffwalker
OH FUCKING HELL, SERIOUSLY??
I mean, um, yeah. Very sorry for your loss, Chieftain. Respect. (Dammit, where’s Spazzle when I need a hand with the damn erase button again?)
We should definitely set up some kind of proper memorial for your family, though. I have to admit I’m not really up to speed on tauren traditions, so you might want to talk to someone a little more in the know to make arrangements. I would offer to help with that myself, but I feel like it might not be such a hot idea for me to go up to Baine Bloodhoof and ask him about tauren burial customs. Things might get a little weird.
6 – 6 x 6 = 0. Discuss.
–Bob, Echo Isles
Dammit this is my mailbag, not math class.
Besides, what’s there to discuss? 6 – 6 x 6 = 0, the end. What do you want, a medal for knowing the obvious?
Hail, Warchief! As a concerned citizen of Silvermoon, I have a request.
As you well know, we are without a real leader just at the moment. Our King, Anastarian Sunstrider, has fallen. Our Prince, Kael’thas Sunstrider, went bat-shyte koo-koo. And our Regent-Lord, Lor’themar Theron … well, you know. Decent fellow, but mostly useless. It’d be nice to have a real King again.
Anyway, I was reading up on Earth Online the other day, about this place called “Sweden”, and this guy named “Bernadotte”, and I got an idea.
Do you have any officers that aren’t doing anything especially important? I hear Bragor Bloodfist is looking for a new posting.
–A Concerned Citizen
P.S.: I just hit the level cap on my “aeronautical engineer”, by the way. The leveling tests were pretty brutal, but the end-game looks sweet.
First of all, ACC, what’s the deal with the aeronautical engineer thing? Is that some kind of hybrid spec? Because I thought the talent trees were Chemical, Electrical, and Mechanical. Did I miss something on the wiki? Meanwhile, I’m still playing around with the veterinarian, but I also just rolled a humanities-spec teacher class (for those of you wondering, by the way, that would be the human equivalent of orcities studies). Who knows how that will go.
Now, for your question. See, I’d be all for installing my own people to run puppet governments for me, and saving all the trouble that comes with giving the different city leaders the leeway to do things their way, but if you don’t do it right it’s more headaches than it’s worth. Biggest problem is it’s AWFULLY hard to keep control of a captive population if the people weren’t on board with the regime change. Like take Magatha Grimtotem trying to stage a coup in Thunder Bluff after Cairne died. How’d that work out for her? Yeah.
Thing is, for you blood elves, it kinda sucks because if you’d had this idea a couple years ago, we could have done something about it. Like if you could make a move right after the truth about Kael’thas came out, there’d probably be enough backlash against him in Silvermoon that the people would be all over a new leader. Open arms, figurehead installed, profit. Of course, back at the time when the iron was hot, we had Thrall running things all white-hat style and me off in Nagrand still cutting myself and shit. But still. Good job being slow with this idea just the same. Honestly, though, trying to do it that way now, we’re just going to get stuck with uprisings and unrest and all kinds of other crap.
As for Bragor, are you serious? I’m supposed to give him a promotion for mediocrity? He’s barely been able to stay on top of thing just WATCHING the Undercity, you want me to give him even MORE authority somewhere? Speaking of Bragor keeping his eyes on things…
While I deeply appreciate your taking the time to respond to my previous note, I fail entirely to see what is wrong with the way I dress, such as to justify the manner in which Captain Bloodfist has been persistently leering at me these past months.
–Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, Undercity
Yeah, you’re right. Don’t know what I was thinking.
Ive never seen a wisp deliver a letter in my life but here i sit, outside the Darnassus wisp delivery outpost, trying to pen an urgent plea for help using only the supplies these hippies wonderful like minded people ancsestor dammed night elven scum use.I only hope you get this message before your murder destroy its carrier since i can already feel myself becoming lost again, each time i succomb it becomes more and more difficult to resist. but then why would i want to resist, i dont want to be a part o each time i loose another part of myself to this sickness.I dont have much time.It began a fortnight ago, I began to feel ill while resting in Orgrimmar, i thought that sleep would do me good but i couldnt rest, i could think only of traveling to ashenvale. as time went on the thought turned into a nessesity, i couldnt stay in the city any longer. I dont know how long i had traveled before i blacked out, the next thing i remember was waking up in the inn in Darnassus with strange thoughts echoing in my head.I dont know how much longer i will remain myself, if i can i will escape, i will find a cure, but i beg you warchief, do not brand me a traitor, i did not ask for this gift curse.
Um, yeah.
Okay, first of all, the wisp delivery thing? That’s not what it is. It’s called E-MAIL. The wispy thing you’re talking about is actually an electrical signal coded by a machine and relayed through cables and wires. (Yes, yes, Spazzle, also sent through why-fly, but there’s no sense confusing this guy any more.)
Still, I can understand how you would be mixed up there, being as you’re apparently surrounded by night elves. In Darnassus, no less. Actually, tell me something, did they feel the need to fucking dip everything THERE in glitter too? Just wondering.
Either way, sounds like you’re having a pretty rough time of it. From what I can gather from your letter. Which, frankly, isn’t a whole lot – and by the way, next time you might maybe want to try taking off your mittens when you’re working on an e-mail – other than I guess you need help. Which I would totally send for you, but you never actually signed your letter or told me who the hell you are, so I wouldn’t even know who to tell the Kor’kron detachment to look for.
So, you know, sucks to be you, I guess.
We are have multiple complaint about your command, to please confirm leadership visit identity verify office for submit banking record and identification validate. Warchief will be suspend if not verify. Thank you.
–Warchiefsecuresafe, Pandaria
OMG WTF!!!! What the hell is this?!? Oh wait, WAIT – THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS WORRIED ABOUT BEFORE!! Yeah, see, SEE, I KNEW someone could try something like this after the whole fake letter from Thrall a few weeks ago!! But everybody was like “oh pooh pooh, silly Garrosh, why do you get upset about nothing?” WELL IT’S NOT NOTHING NOW IS IT MOTHERFUCKERS!!!
Okay so you guys will have to excuse me while I go try to straighten this whole mess out. I hope they have an office locally, I don’t even know where the fuck Pandaria is…
Anyway, that’s it for this week. Remember to keep your letters coming – garrosh1337@gmail.com – and I’ll crank out another batch for next time.
Thal’darah Grove
Quick update – writing this from Orgrimmar.
Thal’darah Grove was a graveyard when I got there. No weapon of mass destruction, no armaments of any kind. Night elves and tauren bodies everywhere, apparently druids, many of them scary young. Way too familiar for my liking.
Only had time for a quick survey of the place before a goblin balloon carrying some kind of bomb came floating in. Frankly I was too distracted by one of the tauren corpses to even notice. Orthus Cliffwalker, the chieftain’s son – Cairne Bloodhoof introduced him to me my first day as Warchief, I’d recognize him anywhere. I probably wouldn’t have even gotten out before the balloon released its payload, but my wyvern was circling around and swooped in to grab me before the bomb fell. By that point Kor’kron backup was arriving in the surrounding Battlescar Valley, and once the wyvern dropped me off with them, the troll support mage ported us out to Orgrimmar.
Porting back out again momentarily, to Cliffwalker Post. Already a shitty day. It’s only getting shittier.
