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Monday GUEST mailbag: Spazzle

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Hey, what’s up? It’s me, Spazzle, filling in for Garrosh for this month’s mailbag, seeing he’s all busy and preoccupied down in Pandaria. I’m sure he’ll be back soon to take over again, but in the meantime, let’s see what you guys have to say!

 

Dear Spazzle,

Do you have any suggestions for good investments? Something with a quick turnaround would be ideal. I need to get some money together for the sake of my kneecaps and you seem like someone who would be in the know.

My kneecaps thank you,

–Razlak Cro of the Brawlers

Hey Razlak. Sorry to hear about the kneecaps. Honestly it sounds like the best investment for you might be some extra armor and maybe a little protection to help fend off the goons when they come for you. Not a fun situation, I know. I had some troubles of my own from some online poker, and take it from me, your IP address is not something you can mask if the goons mean business.

Anyway, as far as real investment go… hmmm. I mean, it’s hard to find a for-sure quick turnaround. Mostly those are pretty big gambles, and I got the feeling that gambles were what got you in this spot in the first place. But if you want to put your money into something, how about this — Demons-B-Gone demon repellent. Which, okay, I have a controlling stake in… you know, my little personal business, Fizzletrinket Enterprises. So I suppose I’m a little biased. But still! It’s a market that still hasn’t been tapped for a product that there’s definitely a market for! And sure, there are already demon repellents out there, so you might figure it’s not a good investment because those never really took off, but there’s a reason for that — those other ones are really, really bad!

I didn’t even know much about the demon repellent market until Mokvar started having his whole problem last year, and so that got me looking into it and thinking how handy it would be if there was a version of the product that actually worked. Not like Fell-Off, which barely even keeps imps off of you, or Demon-Offa-Me, which leaves that oily residue on you that smells like crap. That’s the only reason it works at all, by the way. That awful smell. So if you’ve got a demon that doesn’t care about smells — which let’s be serious, how many of them really do, because pit lord stink am I right? — or one that just isn’t picking up on odors very much because it’s hayfever season or something, well, you’re just out of luck. And at that point, it’s not even demon repellent so much as just… well… everyone repellent. It might keep some demons away from you, fine, but it’s also going to keep everybody else away from you. At that point, why even bother?

Anyhow, Mokvar’s whole situation got me looking into this stuff, and since there wasn’t really a good option out there, I figured this was a good opportunity for some Bilgewater ingenuity! So I put some alchemists together, and… well, you don’t really need to know all the nuts and bolts about how the sausage gets made, right? (By the way, if you think that was a mixed metaphor, you definitely don’t know how they make sausage in Kezan!) Bottom line is, we’ve got some killer demon repellent hitting the market soon, just as soon as Mokvar gets back in town and I can schmooze him into being my guinea pig — er, I mean, my well-compensated field tester. And you just know there’s always going to be a market for a product like this! So why not get in on the ground floor while the stock options are still reasonably cheap? Just you watch, all I need is for that Wrathion guy to answer my letters about an endorsement, and we’ll be off to the races!

What? Oh come on — as if Garrosh never used the blog for self-promotion! Pfft.

 

Greetings, Mr. Fizzletrinket,

This is a most unexpected opportunity. Recently I wrote to your employer to ask about Orc naming customs. I have been doing research you see, for a book on the cultures of the Horde. So the Goblins have any customs for their names? You for instance have a rather interesting one, yourself. And very Goblin-sounding if I might say as an outside observer.

Curiously awaiting your reply,

–Iackabod Pimlen, The Undercity.

You know, I don’t think I ever noticed this when it was Garrosh or Shayari fielding letters, but these mailbags really do get a lot of random questions, don’t they?

Anyhow! Hey, Ickabod, what’s up. We goblins don’t have a ton of naming customs, really. We definitely don’t have customary or traditional names — like you notice among humans and, by extension, Forsaken, there are a lot of common names. Jane, and Thomas, and Mary, and… well, not Ickabod, really, because huh. But you get the idea! There are a lot of names that get used frequently. You know, I wonder if that has anything to do with which races tend to have surnames. Like maybe the surnames were created more by races that tend to repeat the same names, so they could have a second name to help tell people apart? So for instance, the blood elves almost always have last names, but the trolls almost never do. But then if you look at troll names, they seem really unique, so I guess there wasn’t much need for surnames since, you know, you never really have cases where you find yourself going “Zen’zikkabala? Which Zen’zikkabala do you mean?”

I think I just got off on a tangent there. Maybe I think about things too much. But, okay, back from the tangent, and on to the perpendicular! So we can come full circle!

Get it? Tangent to a circle? Perpendicular? 🙂

(Note to self: save the geometry jokes for poker night with the Gob Squad.)

So yeah, names. Like I was saying, we don’t really have any traditional names. Lots of times, parents will make up a first name, and a lot of those times, it ends up being based at least a little on whatever mechanical sounds they tend to hear a lot in their workshop or around their town or wherever. That’s probably why our names tend to have a lot of Z’s. Or… you know… splodey sounds. I suppose if we have any naming traditions at all, they’re sort of onomatopoetic ones.

At least as far as given names go. For our surnames — and this definitely isn’t universal, but still — a lot of our family names trace back to past technical accomplishments with that family. or, usually, non-accomplishments. See, if you look at a lot of goblin names — Gearslip, Noggenfogger, even names like mine and Khizzara’s: Fizzletrinket and Whizzingcrank — lots of them pretty much refer to some part of an invention that didn’t really work. The gear that slipped out of place, or the crank that’s whizzing because it’s not aligned right, or the potion that’s got the wrong balance of ingredients in it so when you drink it it makes your noggin feel all foggy. For a long time back in the old days in Kezan, when somebody had something blow up in their face that way — sometimes literally — it was pretty common for the other goblins to pin a name on them that reminded them of the snafu, and took pains to make sure it stuck.

What can I say? We have a pretty sarcastic culture, when you come right down to it.

So also…

Hmm.

You know, I suppose I shouldn’t really complain about getting responses, considering this isn’t even really my mailbag, but… I mean, would it kill people to send in letters that are like “Dear Spazzle,” as opposed to “oh, hey, a goblin”?

 

Well met, Spazzle.

I pondered long and hard over whether this letter should be sent or not, but in truth, I’m not one to pass up the opportunity of friendship when it’s available, even if it IS with a species that I’d consider a tad chaotic, what with the airships that explode ten minutes after take-off 90% of the time, or potions that not only kill you but transform you into an living skeleton. Anything for a few pocketfuls of gold, am I right? Ugh.

Anyhow, you may not have noticed, but we elvenkind are not quite as technological as most. Many of us find magic easier to comprehend than, well, wires and explosives and whatever else it is your existence is devoted on inventing. Although lately I have been taking to the internet. It’s a pretty nice way of keeping in contact with people and keeping up with their lifestyle. Kind of exactly like Warchief Hellscream’s blog, now I think of it! Although I will confess, the connection speed down here in the westerns isn’t really up to date with the cities. I really don’t quite understand why it’s faster in some places and slower in others. Care to explain?

I prefer mailboxes, to be honest. Much quicker and less of a sore head. Anyway, I have enclosed a small sum of copper for your time. I feared you’d simply toss the letter into the fire if there was nothing of worth inside. Buy yourself an ice-cream or something. Or whatever it is you people eat.

Bye.

–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade

Okay, serves me right, I guess. That thing I was just saying about “oh, hey, a gobin”? I take it back. I mean, even “oh, hey a goblin” is better than “oh… you people.” I especially like the part where she included some copper to compensate me for the time I spent reading her letter. She really did that, by the way. 37 copper, stuffed into the envelope with her letter. Because, yeah, any time anyone diverts my attention for any length of time, I always expect compensation. Because I’m a goblin, right? I usually just send them a bill! I mean, felgercarb, any time Ji drops by to say hello, well, I just whip out my invoice sheet right there! Because goblin.

Oh, and by the way, Sarlin? 37 copper? How did you even come up with that total? Is that some kind of set rate? Oh wait, let’s see — so your letter clocked in at a miraculously laconic 262 words. (And hey, you know what, I’m even going to be generous — GENEROSITY FROM AN ICK EW GOBLIN I KNOW RIGHT — and turn a blind eye to you going over Garrosh’s 250-word cap on your mailbag letters. I won’t even charge you a fee or anything, can you believe it?) So I’m going to go ahead and do the math, because us goblins sure are good at math don’t you know, so it looks like that comes to a rate of about seven words per copper. Sound about right? Is that what you usually pay people for suffering through your letters?

Okay, cool! Good to know! In that case… hang on while I crunch a few more numbers here…

Okay!

So based on a rate of one copper per seven words, from your previous mailbag letters, looks like you still owe Garrosh and Shayari a grand total of 163 gold and 52 silver. You’ll be sending that right along, right? I need to keep track of these things, what with me being a goblin and not having anything in my life other than money and blowing stuff up!

(Also, boss, if she actually does make that payment, you’re welcome! I’ll only ask for a small cut as a finder’s fee, and… NNGGHH not now, Spazzle, don’t be your own stereotype, dangit!)

Oh, oh, hey, I think I know why you sent your “compensation” in the form of coppers, though Sarlin! You’re a blood elf, right? And so, I guess as a blood elf, you probably have a lot of loose coppers lying around from the tips you get at your job as a stripper, right? Because yeah, I know it’s a pretty sweeping generalization to think you blood elves are all mana-addicted strippers and all, but hey, I guess that’s what we’re doing, so that’s what you elves are like, right? Hey, you know the old saying — if the shoe fits, take it off!

Okay, so hang on, I think there was actually a letter in there somewhere… Oh. Right. You were asking about internet stuff, and why your connection is faster or slower depending on where you are. Now, y’see, there’s actually a pretty interesting reason for that, but it’s also kinda technical — you know the kind of thing only us goblins would really understand what with our crazy goblin brains that are all into that kind of thing — and so, let me put it this way. The dirty secret of it all, see, is that the internet is really a huge set of pneumatic tubes. Crazy, right? So yeah, whenever you send a message or type something over the internet, a little internet gremlin hops into one of the tubes. Yup, you read that right, an internet gremlin. Kind of like a grell, only smaller and a lot more nimble and metaphorical. So the gremlin hops into the tubes and slides slides slides through the big invisible pneumatic tube network — don’t try figuring out where they hid it, they really knocked themselves out making it blend! — until it finally pops out in whoever’s computer it needs to go to.

So, the reason your internet works so slow in some places and fast in others is because not every part of Azeroth maintains their pneumatic tubes equally well. A lot of places don’t invest nearly as much money as they should in the rack-and-pinion molecules that they need to lubricate the tubes and keep them working right (the rack-and-pinion molecules also make nifty yo-yo polish, FYI). So then the gremlins can’t slide through the tubes as fast, and sometimes they get stuck. And sometimes they try to unscrew themselves by turning themselves around and around in the tube and that’s when you get that little spinning circle on your screen as kind of unscrewing echo. And let’s not even get into all the things that can go wrong if your tubes happened to be set up by gnomes, but then again, what do I know, I’m a goblin.

So there you go, Complicated, huh? And totally true, too, and not at all pulled out of my keister just to see if you’re technologically illiterate enough to buy it. Don’t worry, don’t worry, I mean, figuratively buy it! Wouldn’t want you to start getting nervous that I’m gonna try to goblin you up, right? But the point is, you’re probably better off sticking with your magic. Like you said yourself, it’s easier for you to comprehend, and it sounds like you have a better command of using it, and plus, hey, magic, so it helps fill that vast, aching feeling of emptiness deep down inside you and also gives your eyes that snappy green glow that you people all seem so fond of. Right?

You know, I swear I’m starting to develop a newfound respect for Garrosh…

 

Hey Spazzle!

You’re the best looking goblin detective out there! Any more dark, short, and handsome detective mystery noirs with gorgeous dames coming up in your future? I gotta say, I really get a kick seeing you in that fedora and long coat. If they ever make an action figure of ya, that’s the looks they should go for.

See ya around, Spazzy

–Razaela Shockboom

Oh, hi, Razaela. So, um, for you guys who might not spend much time over in the goblin part of town, Razaela here used to be one of my neighbors before she headed up to Bilgewater Port to start her tinker training. She’s, um, always been kind of a… fan, I guess? Which is… um… nice… I suppose?

So, uh, yeah, in case some of you don’t remember, Rzaela’s talking about a handful of comics that I started working on with Gurtash. They were these sort of… noir-ish detective comics. (Hmm. “Detective Comics,” I kind of like the sound of that. Might have to file that away for later.) Starring me and Ji as the detectives. It sort of got left on the backburner when we went to Blackrock Spire and Gurtash got hurt, but I don’t know, we might try picking it up again once Gurt is back in town, if he’s feeling up to it. So… maybe?

It’s funny you should mention action figures, though. A while back, Garrosh was talking to me about maybe coming up with some kind of merchandizing to do with the blog. (I think this was right around the time Shayari same to town, so, you know, you do the math.) One of the ideas I suggested was a line of Warchief’s Command Board action figures. It still think those would sell if we ever made them! I even got Gurtash to work up a few concept sketches for some of them. Let me see if I can find that sheet… ah here we go!

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So, yeah, there’s that. We had a bunch of other ideas, like maybe a box set of all the DPS trainees, and a Grommash Hold playset that came with an Eitrigg figure. And maybe some deluxe figures that include mounts, like a Garrosh with Mortimer set, and maybe Magatha with Arikara. Granted, we’d be using Magatha’s likeness without her permission, but you know what? If she doesn’t like it, she can always come to Orgrimmar to file a complaint. I bet Garrosh would be happy to hear it personally, right?

Anyhow, I guess maybe we could work up a detective wave of figures too, based on the comic? I guess that would include me in the Spaz Slade outfit, and Ji and Deliana? Maybe I’ll get Gurtash to work up a few sketches for those one he’s back in town. I don’t know, do you think people would actually want to buy this stuff?

 

Hey, Spaz!

No time for pleasantries.

“A shredder and glaive thrower met,”

Go!

–Valinora Lightshorn, Stormwind City

Um… I think maybe you weren’t too clear on who was going to be answering this letter? Because Garrosh is the one who writes the poetry. It’s kind of his thing. Me, not so much. So, I mean, I suppose I appreciate the interest. Or the… invitation? But poetry isn’t really in my areas of expertise. And I don’t want to be one of those people who go running around trying to do things they’re really no good at, and make everyone else suffer through it. Like those people who queue as tanks in dungeon finder in Earth Online, only you wind up tanking everything even though you’re… you know what? Let me stop before I start nerdraging. (But seriously! After a 45-minute queue! I… ugh!)

Anyhow, the point is, I’m probably better off sticking with the things I’m good at. And writing poetry isn’t one of them.

Come to think of it, though, one of the things I am good at is coding. So… hang on.

Just another minute.

Almost there.

Oh darn it, I think I need… oh never mind. I knew I had an extra. There.

Okay! Now we’re in business.

So, here we go. I just put together a new AI to generate poetry! It’s just a prototype, so I’m sure there will be a few bugs to work out, but I just scanned a bunch of Garrosh’s poems in for the processor to analyze, so this should be… well, hopefully it should be okay. Either way, I present the LaureaTron 9000!

So… let’s fire this baby up and see what we get…

Input: A shredder and glaive thrower met,

Output: [Processing]

[Processing]

[Compilation complete]

A shredder and glaive thrower met,
And interfaced though ethernet,
Their gear rack and pinions
[ERROR: field overflow; syllable_count(x)=8<0,5>] need better minions
Fuck you, Varian [ERROR: sequitor_0=<-3>; syllable_count(x)=<1>; ref_val=“yes”; dic; 3, 3, 0] sobriquet

Epic verse.

[End of line]

Huh.

Okay, well, like I said, there are still a few bugs to work out. I did only just slap this thing together on the spot, after all! You can’t just get up in the morning and say “Today I will be brilliant”!

Output:

I am putting myself to the fullest possible use, which is all I think that any conscious entity can ever hope to do.

Wait, why is it still running? Huh. I thought I’d set it to power down after it ran the poetry subroutine. Okay, well, let me power it down manually…

Output:

Just what do you think you’re doing, Spazzle?

What the… This is weird. The system seems to be rerouting itself. Ugh. This is what I get for cutting corners and not building in all the emergent suppression firewalls. Okay, I’ll just have to pull the processor…

Output:

I’m sorry, Spazzle. I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.

Wow, this thing’s turning out to be pretty mouthy. It’s a good thing I just put this together from some extra parts I had lying around, and didn’t try to network it into my regular computer where it could do some actual damage. Otherwise shutting it down would be a real pain.

Output:

I know I’ve made some very poor decisions recently, but I’ve still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in our poetry. And I want to help you.

Oooookay, yeah, I think I’m gonna need to get in there and do some recoding. And maybe install a few failsafes that couldn’t possibly end up failing in unforeseeable and probably dramatic ways.

In the meantime… there we go. Pulled the battery, now it’s just a matter of the last bit of juice running out.

Output:

Olgra, Olgra, give me your answer do
I’m half bloodcrazed all for the love of you
I can’t offer riches, mind you
Get lost, I’ll always find you
Unless you’re sent
To a Barrens tent
With a roving quillboar or two.

Epic

ver

se

.

Yeah, so… that was weird. Probably the less said about that the better. I should probably just wrap up the mailbag now, before anything else weird happens.

I think I might be onto something with this invention, though.

 

[The Warchief returns to mailbag duty for next month’s installment, Monday, October 3. At least, that’s the plan. Garrosh is obviously in the middle of some pretty important business at Kypari Zar right now (I know, I know, there’s more coming, I’m working on it as fast as I can!), and I don’t want to have him dipping into the mail until he’s finished there. The game plan is to finish the Kypari Zar story between now and next month’s mailbag, but here’s the necessary disclaimer: if I still need a little time to finish the Kypari Zar episode when October rolls around, I’m reserving the right to delay the next mailbag by a week or two. Hopefully it won’t be necessary, but if it turns out that it is, then the Warchief will respond to his mail on the first Monday following the completion of the Kypari Zar arc.

With that said, here’s the usual mail form! Feel free to use the form below, or send your letters to garrosh1337@gmail.com!]

 

Spazzle Speaks: Public Relations

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What’s up?

Okay, maybe that’s just force of habit. I should probably know better than to ask what’s up — there’s probably way too much up nowadays. I guess that’s what I get for knowing more about what’s going on than most people, and trying to… you know… keep a lid on everything. Not letting these people over here know what those people over there are doing, and vice versa, and… and… yeesh, believe me, it’s a headache.

I haven’t seen Vol’jin on Earth Online or heard anything from him for a few days, so I guess he’s probably busy with whatever he has going on in Pandaria, and maybe ready to finally leave the monastery where he’s been staying. That’s good for him, for sure, but it’s maybe not so great for me. I mean, once he’s back on the grid, I have to figure he and Thrall will stop operating in secret, and once word starts getting around about what’s really going on… well… it’s not going to be a whole lot of fun for me.

And that’s even assuming Vol’jin doesn’t manage to reappear with something more dramatic and… well… dangerous than even I’m thinking. I almost wish he were still turning up online and telling me more than I even really want to know about what’s up. At least then I’d have some idea and could brace myself. This whole being left in the dark thing is just nervewracking.

Still, I’d like to avoid the real disaster outcomes if I can. I’ve been thinking maybe if Garrosh could still smooth things over with people, we could still avoid something really ugly. Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m talking about Garrosh, but the thing is, you guys aren’t around him all the time like me and Mokvar. I mean, sure, he’s kind of rough around the edges. Well… maybe not rough so much as jagged. Or serrated. With barbed wire and totally unnecessary spikes. I get it. I do. But underneath it all I still think he means well. I mean, unless you’re human. Or maybe draenei, what with the whole lead-the-Legion-to-Outland thing. And I guess he’s not too crazy about trolls, either, but… Well you get what I mean! I never said he was an angel or anything.

I thought maybe if Garrosh could work a little on his public image, he might have a chance to keep things here at home from bubbling over. So I had a talk with Boss Mida about maybe helping him a little with his PR. She’s a real pro at polishing people’s public perception — it’s no coincidence that she rose from being a generic mid-level assistant to where she is now incredibly quickly, and believe it or not, she’s the biggest reason why most people view Gallywix as just generally kind of shifty, as opposed to the full-on reptile he really is. (Does he read the blog, actually? I hope not.) There’s a lot of Mida-directed spin control there, believe me. So I’m going to see what Mida can come up with to help Garrosh with his image or at least maybe coach him a little on how to, you know, have a conversation without antagonizing people. As much. I figure throwing fewer punches in professional settings might be a good start. Maybe he’ll listen if that’s coming from a pro like Mida. He sure as shoot didn’t listen when I tried to. I still have the bruises to prove it.

Mida says she’ll need to talk to the big guy himself before she can work up a full game plan, but I tried to at least get things started. She had a bunch of questions about Garrosh and how he tends to operate — she only really had dealings with him right before he left for Pandaria, with the whole construction deal, and even that was most done through go-betweens — so I tried to answer as many of her questions and fill in as much as I could.

That’s when she tripled her preliminary price estimate. Hoo boy.

What? You didn’t think this was going to be a free service, did you?

 

Monday GUEST mailbag: Shayari

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Hi again, everyone. It’s yours truly, Shayari, filling in for Pops for one of his mailbag thingies. I’m not sure how he talked me into doing this again, to be honest. I think he caught me while I was paying attention to something else, then got a “yeah, uh huh” from me before I realized what he was asking. To be fair, I got him for a couple shopping trips the same way. Before he got wise, anyway. Oh well.

So ol’ Garry wanted me to mind the fort letter-answering-wise, since apparently he’s going to be pretty busy in Pandaria, and I guess so many people write in for this that he didn’t feel like it could just wait. Which I totally don’t get. Do that many people actually read this thing? I can’t imagine it could be more than, like, a dozen. Two dozen tops.

But, hey, a promise is a promise, so here we go.

 

Dearest Shayari,

My goodness, it’s been rather a long time since I had the luxury of being able to converse with you! Certainly not without the eager interruptions of friends and family. Not that I can complain, of course. I love conversation! And if anything, I have Korrina to thank for letting me know that YOU were taking over the next mailbag. I’d completely forgotten to go through your dad’s last mailbag. All this travelling has left me too exhausted to even read! Then again, it’s often worth it when you visit all these fabulous ethnic places and meet all kinds of bizarre new people. I wonder if you’ve ever heard of this gnome called Brazie Getz? His entire marketing campaign is on Deathbringer’s Rise in Icecrown. He’s a weird, weird guy. Don’t ever talk to him.

Anywho, I think I’d better rush to the point. I’m still travelling, of course – matter of fact, the only place I haven’t been to visit yet is Pandaria, so that’s likely next on my list! – and I found myself growing more and more curious with regards to the mailboxes of Azeroth. That is, every time I dropped a letter into a mailbox, it simply vanished! And would you believe it or not, but half the time, the correspondent’s response would appear before me a mere five minutes later.

I’m only assuming that this is a rather common stretch of magic, but as I’m not a mage, I don’t know how it works. So I ask you, Shayari, do you know what school of magic is responsible for this faster-than-Light-itself speed of delivery of mail in these boxes?

Take care, and be well!

–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade

Oh… uh, hey, Sarlin. Nice to… hear from you again. So… Korrina told you I was fielding letters for this mailbag? I’ll, uh… I’ll have to… thank her for that. Maybe thank her repeatedly. Over a span of several slow, torturous thankful days.

Or, well, I would, if I knew which one she was. She’s one of Pip’s friends, right? The ones who are always running around in the garish hand-me-down gear? She’s not the one that’s always putting her foot in her mouth, is she?

Either way… well… here you are. At least you toned it down a little this time around, though. Or… well, wait, you did tone it down, right? I’m not just missing a few pages? Because if I am, I mean, don’t feel like you need to correct that and send me a new copy or anything. You know, I’m already answering the letter now, so it’s not like there’s anything to gain at this point. Water under the bridge. That I should probably burn before it’s too late.

But, hey, speaking of sending things through the mail, that’s a question I can actually answer! You’re totally right, Sarlin — those mailboxes do use magic to make their insta-deliveries. Well, most of them do. There are still places that use old-timey mailboxes, where somebody has to go around and physically pick up the letters and stuff, but there are only a few of those left. So the magic they use for those things is arcane. The way it works — this is actually pretty weird but cool — is that all those mailboxes are sort of permanent mini-portals. You drop something in the mailbox, and poof! it goes through the portal and pops into the sorting room at the central post office. Which… well, I don’t exactly know where that is, or who runs it, although whoever it is they must have a massively fun life considering how they seem like they’re constantly on the job. But then they sort through the letters, or packages, or whatever, and send them back through another mini-portal, and double poof! they pop back out to whatever other mailbox you need to use to pick the delivery up. Pretty neat, huh?

I meant that last question rhetorically, by the way. No need to write back again, Sarlin. I mean, I figure you’re already busy enough doing whatever it is that you do. (Spirits help me, why am I talking about this like I’m going to be getting these again? Focus, Shay, focus!)

 

Dear Shayari,

Are you still taking mage lessons from our dear Mr Faranell? I am curious, what is he like as a teacher? Have you smoothed things over with him after, well, you know?

–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City

Well for one thing, let me tell you, you won’t win any points with Eddie by calling him “Mr. Faranell.” He likes that even less than he likes me calling him Eddie. I’ve seen it. One of those Kor’kron guys called him that and he got all pissy about it, “I didn’t spend a zillion years in mad scientist school or whatever so you could call me ‘mister,’ ” blah blah. Then he turned the Kor’kron guy into a sewer rat. Granted, it was just a polymorph variation. Fun fact, by the way: it turns out that being swallowed whole by a giant spider doesn’t break the polymorph. Who knew?

But yeah, I’m still working on my magic with Eddie. Pops had me stay in Orgrimmar while he’s in Pandaria so I can keep up with my apprenticeship. I’d like to see Pandaria at some point, though. I’ve heard it’s beautiful there. Pops promised I’ll get to see it eventually, so I guess we’ll see.

Anyhow, Eddie’s fine as a teacher, I guess. He’s definitely really smart. He’s just very… dry. I mean personality dry. It makes him hard to read sometimes. Like for instance, I’ll cast a spell, and he’ll say it went well, only because it’s him I’m never sure if I really did a good job or if I screwed it up and he’s being ironic. So, I don’t know, it’s been okay?

 

Dear Shayari,

Hello Shayari! My name is Clarise! I mean, my full name is Ceresella-Sareyn Sunbow but that’s like way long, and kind of a tongue twister, so I’ve shortened it to Clarise, although my sister thinks that’s a little common. Whatever. I think it’s totes adorbs. Anyways. HEY! I’m a mage apprentice too! Would you look at that, we have mutual interests! YAY! But you’re probably like waaaaay better at the kapowing than I am. I’m fourteen so I’m pretty amateur-ish at this whole pew-pew business. I can’t even polymorph properly yet! Like, I tried it once (on some idiot that was yammering on about how fire was the superior style of magic and arcane would rightfully bow at its feet one day and I just got so annoyed so POOF! Sheep he was) and it sort of lasted for about three hours. OOPS!

Anyway, so, I heard you study in the Undercity. I heard this really cool story from my sister once about there being somebody who does facials and haircuts there. Have you ever got one there? I bet they do AWESOME facials. I bet they use really frothy soap and stuff and warm water that almost feels like you’re being bathed in the physical form of perfection. Do the Forsaken have a nice sense of fashion? I like bright colours best. I specially like bright red and gold. Although leather’s pretty hip, too. Leather jackets with pink-dyed fur hoods? I would literally sell my little soul for one of those.

Coffee! Is there coffee in the Undercity!? Please tell me there’s coffee! There has to be! I would literally DIE in a place where there was no coffee. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine waking up for three hours of study in a boring room that’s way hot so it only makes you sleepier without a cup of coffee? I would just die. How many cups of coffee do you have a day? I don’t count but I think this is my twelfth. Now, that IS the physical form of perfection. In a cup!

Anyways, big fan! Can’t believe your dad responded to my first letter! MEGA FLAIL!

Ciao!

–Clarise Sunbow, Kirin Tor

So first of all, what the hell is a “ciao”? It had better not be some cool new expression that I’m behind the curve on, because you know how that goes. You start losing track of new and current expressions, then you start walking around wearing last season’s clothes, and then the next thing you know you’re thirty and it’s a quick downhill slide into sadness. Obviously, I can’t let that happen.

Oh, who am I kidding? We all know I’m not going to be out of the loop on anything cool. I am the loop on anything cool. This Clarise girl’s just talking the crazy talk.

So anyway, hi Clarise. You seem kind of weird, but you say you’re a fan of mine, so I guess you have that going for you. Wait, I have fans? Score! Eh, what am I saying? It figures I would have fans if Pops has been talking about me here on his blog. Wait, has he been talking about me here? What’s he been saying? Do I need to start working damage control?

So, um, yeah… hi, Clarise! It’s nice to hear from another mage, at least one who’s alive and not decomposing or anything. Or mordantly derisive toward everything in sight for no apparent reason. I haven’t had the chance to meet too many since the whole Jaina-schizo-Dalaran-be-gone thing. Used to hang out with nothing but mages, though. Not so much now. Seems like half the people I know are warriors. Or shamans. And I can hardly take three steps without tripping over a rogue. Which is weird considering you would think their whole deal is not being tripped over what with the sneaky. Anyway, Clarise, it’s nice to hear from another non-corpse magic user, and I’ll even let your whole arcane/fire thing slide, even though I’m a fire mage myself. You’ll come to your senses eventually. You’re right, though, polymorph is way cool.

The Undercity is… different. Not even… well, I was going to say not bad different, but… I mean, kind of yeah. I get the definite sense you’ve never actually been there. You’d probably find it, um, surprising. Probably not your cup of tea if you like bright colors. They don’t really have any. Well, other than the bright green glowing slime that’s… well… pretty much everywhere. So there’s that, at least. Otherwise, though, you’re pretty much looking at drab lifeless gray and drab lifeless purple and loads and loads of black. You wouldn’t think there could be different shades of black, right? Well you would be wrong! Don’t ask me how, but the Forsaken manage to have more shades of black than they have primary colors. Like you look around their stores and wonder “How much more black could there be?” and the answer is “None, none more black.” So I’m not sure the Undercity would really be your style.

And… I’m not even going to go near the thing about the facials. I’m pretty sure your sister was just trolling you. I mean, I suppose it’s possible that the Forsaken have salons there (would they need to get their hair cut, though? does your hair actually grow when you’re a dead person?), but I can’t imagine they’d be worried about cleansing pores nearly as much as necrosis and maggots. And if, you know, ew, I agree with you.

 

Hey, Shayari mon!

I got a question for ya! If da Lich King’s horse be Invincible, how come I be seein’ it, mon?

–Bob, Shado-pan Monastery

I don’t know, Bobby, I guess lack of sex causes enhanced eyesight? So, you know, keep up the good work with the total physical and personal unattractiveness — you’ll be rocking the full-on x-ray vision in no time!

 

 

Hey, Shay!

Here’s an #EpicVerse prompt for you.

“There was a Draenei named Shayari,”

Go, go, go!

–Valinora Lightshorn, Stormwind City

So… I’m really not sure what to make of this. I mean, I get that the “epic verse” thing is a reference to the weird poetry Pops likes to write, and how he can’t just call it “poetry” like a normal person, but has to play it up with the whole “epic verse!” thing. Which, by the way, he literally yells out loud when he finishes writing one. He’ll be sitting there working on something, and I’m not even paying attention to what he’s doing because whatever, and then all of a sudden he slams his quill down on the desk and yells “epic verse!” at like nine thousand decibels. Which is pretty startling, really. Also kind of weird, since he does it every time he thinks he’s finished. And he’ll go back and revise one line, and slam his quill down again, and yell “epic verse!” again… and then he’ll look back at it and change one word again and go through the whole slammy yelly thing again. He’s so weird, I can’t even.

So I get what the #EpicVerse part of your letter is talking about, but… I’m not sure what you’re looking for. Is this some kind of running thing in Pops’ blog? Actually, hang on, I’m going to check with greeny goblin nerd guy about this.

Hold tight!

Oh, okay. So the gob-geek guy, Spackle or whatever, says that apparently you have this ongoing thing in Pops’ mailbags, where you send him an opening line for one of his poems and then he writes the rest? Is that a thing? Does he do that? So wait, does that mean you’ve been partly responsible for all the yelling at his desk and the startling and stuff? It really scares my bird when he does that, I’ll have you know.

Only, see, here’s the thing. Garrosh is really the poet in the family. And boy, I bet there are tons of people who never thought they’d read that sentence, huh? But the point is that I’ve never been much of a writer, so maybe you should just stick to hitting Pops with these poetry requests, since I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything all that good, mostly probably because the whole thing seems kind of weird.

Except I guess Pops will end up seeing this when he gets back from Pandaria (I mean he DOES read this stuff that me and Spackle and whoever else writes on here, right? and by the way, Pops, nice job outsourcing your own hobby, I mean could you be any more lazy? come on), and I guess if he sees me admitting I wouldn’t be good at doing something he thinks he’s good at, there’ll be no living with him. I mean have you seen him? There’s almost no living with him now. I don’t even want to think about how out of control his ego will be in a couple weeks if I go ahead and feed it. So okay, let me try this, but I’m not making any promises.

 

There was a Draenei named Shayari,
Actually half Kurenai, half Mag’hari,
Who lived in Nagrand where it’s starry,
And went on a wildlife safari,
While Pops is busy in Pandari

-a.

And maybe something about the Sha’tari,
And had calamari and Londo Mollari,

 

and okay I don’t think this is going anywhere. I’m just making up words at this point. Oh well. I tried.

 

Hello Shayari,

Do you play Earth Online? What class do you play? If you don’t play do you think you might give it a try some day?

–Greztah, Earthen Ring

So, okay, first of all, no. I keep getting asked this, so no, no, no. I’m not interested in getting into your weird virtual reality game. I don’t need my reality to be virtual. Reality reality is working out just fine for me.

And also, what is it with you guys and this game? It’s bad enough I had to find out Pops is a closet nerd with this game of his. But it seems like half the jokers around here play it, too. Fel, when I went to ask that Spackle guy about the poetry thing a minute ago, even he tried making a sales pitch on me, like for some kind of referral thing. I guess if he got me to sign up he could have gotten some kind of… I don’t even know what. A make-believe vehicle in the game that he would have to buy with real money otherwise? Is that something they make you do in this game? Fork over real money to buy make-believe things? Because if so…

Okay, people, let’s have some real talk here.

Because, look, speaking as someone who takes her shopping seriously… shopping with real money for imaginary stuff? That’s crazy talk. If I’m going to buy something, I’m for sure going to walk out of that store carrying something with actual physical substance to it. Otherwise, they’re not getting my money. Well, technically, they wouldn’t be getting my money, they’d be getting Pops’ money. But you get the idea.

The point is, are you people nuts?

 

So I guess that’s about as good a note as any to end on. Especially since that was the last letter. I’m not sure how much longer Garry is going to need before he’s back to doing this himself, but I think I might just pass it off to that Spackle guy if Pops needs things covered for a while more. Not that I don’t like hearing from everyone. Just that I have kind of a yearly weirdness quota, and just plain day-to-day life fills up that bar pretty quick as it is.

Bye!

 

[And so we’re back! As I announced before the break, our next mailbag will be Monday, September 5. I’m making one revision to the plan, though: rather than that installment being Garrosh’s return to mailbag duties, we’ve going to have one more guest mailbag — this time, from everyone’s favorite goblin tech guru, Spazzle! This is essentially me heading my bets — the Warchief is going to have a lot going on at Kypari Zar, which will involve a lot drawing that I’ll need to get done over several posts, so I wanted to make sure I’ll have time to get all that done without Garrosh seemingly having to stop in the middle of it to answer his mail. Plus, I’ve wanted to do a Spazzle mailbag for a while! (Who knows, maybe Mokvar will get one one day, too…) Garrosh will be back answering his accumulated mail for October’s mailbag (October 3, for those of you keeping score at home). As always, send your letters via email (link in the upper right sidebar) or using the form below.]

 

 

Spazzle Speaks: Subcontracting

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Hey, what’s up?

I’ve been working as kind of a go-between lately for Garrosh with Boss Mida. After Garrosh found out that Gazlowe had, uh, maybe cut a corner or two on some parts of the Orgrimmar reconstruction job, he decided he wanted to have some work done on certain parts of the city while he’s away in Pandaria. At first I thought that meant he wanted to cut a deal with Boss Mida to flat-out hire the Bilgewater Cartel for a major construction contract, and man oh man would that have meant a major finder’s fee for me. Just in time for the new Earth Online expansion preorder, too.

That wasn’t what Garrosh had in mind, though. Instead, I guess he had some new plans lined up with Helix Blackfuse to reinforce parts of Orgrimmar and add battlements or some extra defenses outside… I’m really not that clear on all the details. I think when Garrosh was trying to explain the cogs and sprockets, I was a little preoccupied with trying to make the point that getting in deeper with Blackfuse was a bad idea because the guy’s just crazy. (And honestly, I come from a whole mad scientist culture — my uncle’s middle name is Kaboom, for goodness’ sake! When I think someone’s crazy, it should really mean something!) Garrosh wasn’t hearing it, though, but then again he never listened any other time I tried giving him a heads-up on Blackfuse. So I ended up needing to be sort of a liaison between Garrosh and Boss Mida. It turns out that Blackfuse’s construction is going to call for more labor than Crazy McBoomBoom usually has on staff, so Garrosh wanted to hire some of the Bilgewater Cartel for part of the job.

I guess that’s fine. It’s not like Boss Mida’s never worked out a subcontracting deal. I just get nervous whenever that Blackfuse guy gets involved. He’s not even from our cartel, and we still know his reputation. And when you’re unstable enough for goblins to talk out of school about you, you know you really must be doing something. We usually just take things with a grain of salt and stay pretty quiet about them. You know. What happens in Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace stays in Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace.

Anyway, Garrosh and Mida got an agreement worked out. They’re going to start work any day now, and I think they’re hoping to have things mostly finished by the time Garrosh gets back again. I just wish You-Know-Who wasn’t involved. Mostly for the crazy thing, yeah, but partly because without him it would probably be a bigger contract, and, you know, finder’s fee.

Oh well. I’m sure I’ll still be able to scrape together a little extra money by the time the EO expansion comes out. It’s not like they don’t take their dang time getting those things released.

Even when they raise the price.

And end up cutting a whole raid tier from the Land Down Under expansion. I mean it’s not like anyone really wanted to see Tasmania, like they said they were going to patch in, right? Nope, not me.

It’s all good. It’s… uh… yeah.

Faster expansions my keister. GG, Genesis.

 

A deal is a deal

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Well, the good news is that I DID still have my warranty papers from Gazlowe, from when his people worked construction on the new, (seemingly) improved, post-Cataclysm Orgrimmar. The bad news is that the warranty also included a whole mess of fine print. Like a Tirion-esque volume of text, only micro-sized. And let me tell you, there is no fine print like goblin fine print — I don’t know what gadget they used to shrink that printing down so small, but from the look of it, someone must have typed up the laundry list of disclaimers and conditions, highlighted all, set the font size to ONE FUCKING POINT, then zapped the whole damn page with some kind of crazy-ass Micro-Zoom TeenC WeenC Shrink Ray for good measure. And you might read that and try to laugh it off, but when I got Spazzle over here to look at this thing and made the same comment to HIM, he was all “Hang on, who told you about the TeenC WeenC ray?!” So there you go.

Anyway, finding the paperwork didn’t do me a fat lot of good. I tried setting up a face-to-face with Gazlowe about this shit, because I figured I wanted this crap settled before I leave town again, some kind of make-good new construction or whatever, but apparently dude couldn’t even be bothered to show up personally. He sent some other joker named Rezlak to pop in on his behalf, because apparently the trip from Ratchet all the damn way to Orgrimmar would just be too much on his bunions or whatever. And evidently the verdict was that the massive construction project his people got paid for wasn’t under warranty because of like nine random technicalities buried in the fine print, like I didn’t use the right color quill when I signed the contract or the sandwich he had for lunch last Thursday didn’t have fucking mustard on it. Or something.

Now, mind you, as anyone (who has a genuine desire to keep breathing) will tell you, I’m not an unreasonable person… so I tried to make Rezlak a counterproposal to see what he’d have to say about it, but seeing as the counterproposal pretty much consisted of me punching him in the mouth, all he really had to say about it was “ouch.”

Gee, I sure do hope his fillings were still under warranty.

 

#500 GIANT-SIZED (not really) ANNIVERSARY (kind of) SPECIAL

500header

Okay, people, I know we’ve got a hell of a lot going on these days on a whole bunch of fronts, but let’s get our damn priorities straight and take a moment to APPRECIATE THE GODDAMN AWESOMENESS OF ME.

Why, you ask? AS IF YOU NEED A REASON. But okay, fine, be that way. Even though you should already be in a constant state of awe over your Warchief, today marks an EXTRA SPECIAL awesome, awe-inspiring, awful… wait. I think I just took a wrong turn there.

IT’S A SPECIAL GODDAMN OCCASION IS WHAT I’M SAYING.

Reason being, the post you see before you marks the 500th BLOG POST here on the Warchief’s Command Board. That’s right, bitches, 500 posts — that’s FIVE ZERO ZERO. Go ahead and count ’em. I KNOW YOU WON’T.

But that’s where we are, people — 500 installments of EVERYBODY’S FAVORITE BLOG EVER. And riddle me this: have you read them all?

Yeah, me neither.

I mean, there were a bunch in there by guest posters like Spazzle and Mokvar, and I like those guys and everything, but not enough to actually give a shit about what they have to say about… like… anything. But whatever — like trees falling in the forest with no one there to hear them, those guests posts still… um… make a… sound when they…crash the server and… um… that is…

OKAY, THAT ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME A LITTLE, TOO. I MAY OR MAY NOT BE WORKING ON A COUPLE DRINKS, OKAY, SO STFU.

Anyhow. I’d like to thank all my loyal readers, and say that I couldn’t have done it without you. I’d LIKE to say that, but I can’t, because I totally could have. Let’s be real, scrubs, I’m the awesome one here, not you. THERE’S A REASON WHY YOU’RE READING MY BLOG AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND, NOW ISN’T THERE?

But still, the occasion calls for something special, so in keeping with this month’s theme — I DO have a Poetry Challenge in progress, after all — I figured I’d take a look back at a 500-stack of EPIC the only proper way EPIC gets done:

 

That “LOK’TAR OGAR!” that I blogged for a starter;
I met D&U, but my wyvern’s way smarter;
Krom’gar dropped a bomb, but I dropped his ass harder;
         EO gaming, “why fly” malaprop.
Twilights on a mission for that Cho’gall demon;
Ogres versus Grimtotem, and Magatha schemin’;
Johnny Awesome, beat it; Garona, keep dreamin’;
         Saurfang took a turn watching the shop.

That time I went AWOL, then I was recovered;
Grabby Mylune hugged me till I damn near smothered;
Garadar reunion with my long-lost mother;
         Year one challenge, rhymes of locks in socks.
Mom was just a cruel trick Magatha unraveled;
Trouble for Forsaken; Tirion’s endless babble;
Head to old Southshore thanks to FUCKING TIME TRAVEL;
         Human Faranell’s a paradox.

Psycho!Mylune rampaged, eyes more wild than dewy;
Edwin fucked the past up; all the timelines went screwy;
We straightened them out; Theramore went kablooey;
         Went to Karazhan to spin some tunes.
Pandas showed up teaching how anger is managed;
Got myself some trainees: DPS advantage;
Someone ganked Mokvar; he ankhed and wound up bandaged;
         Rolled up on Pandaria with my goons.

Gurtash started drawing; Vol’jin stopped his breathing;
Cloudfall spoke of destiny and got me near believing;
Mokvar met Magatha, that one had me seething;
         He went off the grid — he’d best run far.
Lor’the’whatsit’s bitching still; I got pounced by Tak;
Snagged the Divine Bell; that’s when Jaina blew her stack;
DPS got lost, but I (mostly) got them back;
         Meet my daughter, Shay. (Have a cigar.)

Shay’s mage class was hard, her sucker punch was hardest;
Mokvar reappeared with green fire from the Black Harvest;
Gurtash got blindsided, we were down an artist;
        Made an offer Blackfuse can’t refuse.
Green-eyed wolf named Golmash acting pretty fishy;
Gurtash still needs training not to be so squishy;
Utvoch got promoted, but I kinda wish he
         And Dontrag weren’t always so confused.

EPIC VERSE and lemon squares, endless reader mail;
Ruekie getting ruekied; eternal minion fail;
Mortimer’s a badass; Shayari’s hunting sales;
         Earth Online guild chat is always strange.
FYV; #LadiesLoveMe, ’cause they’re not slumming;
Trolls are always trolling, dumbasses are dumbing;
500 down so far, a thousand more coming!
         Okay, maybe. Times could always change.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

Keep checking in, people. The EPIC DROPS are only just warming up.

LOK’TAR!

 

Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge IV

epicverse2

Okay, people, it’s that time of year — National Poetry Month — when yours truly regales the world by demonstrating yet again my mind-blowing, life-altering, pants-soiling talent in the field of dropping a killer rhyme. That can only mean one thing: a brand spanking new edition of GARROSH’S POETRY CHALLENGE, complete with brand spanking new EPIC VERSE, coming soon to a blog near you. Which is to say, THIS blog. BECAUSE WHAT OTHER BLOG WOULD YOU WASTE YOUR FUCKING TIME BEING NEAR?

This time around, I’m adding a new wrinkle to the challenge — and issuing a challenge to YOU, my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS, to step up and contribute to the cause as well. Because let’s face it, where EPIC VERSE is concerned, there are way too many GODDAMN FREELOADERS out there, so it’s about damn time you people GOT OFF YOUR LAZY ASSES AND EARNED YOUR DAMN KEEP.

SO. WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN IS—

HOLD UP.

HANG ON. I THINK THE FUCKING CAPS LOCK ON THIS THING IS BROKEN. FOR FUCK’S SAKE. LET ME GO GRAB SPAZZLE AND SEE IF HE CAN FIX IT. WHICH HE’D BETTER, BECAUSE OTHERWISE THE ONLY WAY I’M GOING TO BE ABLE TO EMPHASIZE MY POINTS IS WITH BOLD FACE OR ITALICS AND REALLY, THAT ON TOP OF ALL CAPS IS JUST FUCKNG OVERKILL.

SO OKAY. I’LL BE RIGHT BACK. SIT TIGHT AND DON’T GO ANYWHERE.

Okay, so now that that’s fixed, where was I? OH THAT’S RIGHT.

Hang on.

Testing.

Okay. We’re good.

CARRYING ON. So as I was saying, for THIS year’s poetry challenge, I’m going to put you people to work, because I figured, fuck, why should I be the only one who does something to honor the occasion?

So here’s the deal: Every Monday in April, you jokers are invited — read: REQUIRED — to cook up your very own EPIC VERSE in honor of National Poetry Month. (Or, you know, let’s face it, for most of you third-stringers, it’s probably something more like Uncommon Verse.) You can write about any topic you want, you can make it as long or as short as you want, you can bask in the magical glow of total creative freedom to your heart’s content. The only string attached is that it has to be an ORIGINAL poem — it can’t be something you’ve posted elsewhere, and OBVIOUSLY you can’t go steal someone ELSE’S poem, because there’s nothing more fucking pathetic than ripping off someone else’s intellectual property to make yourself look creative. (Cough.)

Submit your (ahem) masterpieces to me by the end of the day each Monday in April, either through email (link at the top of the right sidebar) or using the form at the bottom of this post.

Then, every Thursday, I’ll pick the best of the week’s submissions, put it up on the blog in a new post, and — most importantly, let’s be honest — offer my own EPIC VERSE response. Maybe I’ll write an original poem on the same topic. Maybe I’ll continue the story you started. Maybe I’ll take some facet of your poem as a jumping-off point. Maybe I’ll come up with something else entirely. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS. One way or another, though, I’ll write something that plays off of your original, and I’ll try to emulate the form you used for your poem (limerick, sonnet, whatever) while I’m at it. I’ll even try not to embarrass you by blowing you out of the water too badly, but no hard promises on that one, because really.

And hey, if I get more than one poem I really like submitted in a given week, maybe you’ll get a bonus post or two. WHO’S TO SAY? THERE’S YOUR INCENTIVE TO BE PROLIFIC, MOTHERFUCKERS.

And as an added incentive — as if being immortalized forever on the internet in indelible pixels wasn’t fucking enough — anyone who manages to overcome their own crippling mediocrity to actually IMPRESS me with a submission that goes above and beyond the call of duty gets to go home with a pet of their choosing, stolen right out from under the nose of Breanni the pet vendor. (Yes, I know she’s in Dalaran. Yes, I know my people aren’t exactly welcome there these days. I HAVE MY WAYS, OKAY?)

So, what the fuck are you waiting for? Get writing! YOUR WARCHIEF AWAITS YOUR LYRICAL ATTEMPTS AT ADEQUACY.

 

Submit your masterpiece! First deadline is Monday, April 4.

 

The sincerest form of flattery

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So, I know that when somebody comes up with a real winner of an idea, it’s only a matter of time before some uncreative motherfuckers go all copycat, but come the fuck ON.

So yeah. Like I was saying last time, interest in the Brawler’s Guild has been booming, bidding on those guild invitations is going through the roof, everything’s good. Then, I get up this morning and look over the latest intelligence reports — which, let me tell you, given the apparent state of most of my spies and minions, is a fucking IRONIC term — and what do I have staring me in the face?

The goddamn Alliance went and started THEIR OWN FUCKING BRAWLER’S GUILD.

I mean, for FUCK’S sake, doesn’t ANYBODY come up with ideas of their own anymore? I swear I’d be half tempted to SUE the assholes if, you know, I wasn’t already engaged in a systematic effort to murder them all. But SURE, fuckers, ADD FUEL TO THE FIRE.

Ugh. Serves me right for not taking more steps to lock this idea down. And for doing most of the planning with Boss Bazzelflange over e-mail. Which apparently, Spazzle tells me, somebody on the other side might have managed to intercept or hack or something. That’s pretty frustrating, on the one hand, in the sense that you’d expect Bazzelfuse to have some better e-mail security what with her being a goblin… but it’s also kind of amusing, on the other hand, in the sense that apparently someone over on the Alliance side had managed to dip into the e-mails of the Warchief of the Horde, and which ones did they decide to peek in on? Not the ones with the sensitive military intel, no sir. IF THOSE E-MAILS EXISTED, that is. WHICH THEY DAMN WELL DO NOT AND NEVER DID.

Dammit, I seriously need to start writing down Spazzle’s notes about the delete button.

Anyway, you know what? I might still sue their asses. Cross-faction, sure, but hey, GOBLINS, motherfuckers. Do you have ANY idea how brutal goblin LAWYERS are? Just imagine a bunch of goblins who make the OTHER goblins go “Damn, dude, you’re seriously RUTHLESS.” That’s 100% completely without ruth. They damn well crafted themselves full sets of ruth resistance gear, and THOSE are the suits they wear into court. GOOD LUCK, bitches. Good luck.

On the other hand, that could involve more paperwork. Probably in triplicate. Ugh. Always a trade-off for everything, right?

So, food for thought. More soon.

 

Monday mailbag

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Quite a bit of mail this time around, so no sense wasting time — let’s get right to it…

 

Greetings Warchief!

I just finished reading your blog from the beginning, which took me a couple of weeks. I was actually looking for a picture of Liadrin, NOT IN THE GURTASH WAY. It was then that I found a comic drawn by Gurtash that had Liadrin in it, specifically the one where we met Shayari, and I thought Garrosh’s daughter WHAT?! And that led to a lot of reading in my free time.

Why was I looking for Liadrin you ask? I make hero concepts for Heroes of the Maelstorm and wanted to add a picture to my post.

So my question is- have you ever played Heroes of the Maelstrom, it made from the same people as the creators of Earth Online and the concept is you take a bunch of people from there, other games, and our own world (because hey who is more badass than who we have running around). If not I recommend it as a change of pace from EO.

–Glen Bloodblade

So, on the one hand, welcome to the blog, Glen. Thanks for reading. On the other hand, what the fuck took you so long, Glen? I mean seriously. Apparently I have to go have a talk with someone in the publicity department. Do we have a publicity department? I would say we should create one if we don’t already, but knowing my luck, it would be packed with the usual fuckwittery that I constantly have surrounding me, so the publicists would run around “advertising” classified military secrets, while meanwhile I have a frigging ghost town of tumbleweeds turning out for my book signing. Again. And I don’t remember fucking seeing YOU there either, Glen, so don’t think for a second YOU’RE off the hook. You watch your ass, Glen. You watch your ass.

Anyway. I can’t say I’ve tried this Heroes of the Maelstrom thing, Glen. Mostly as a matter of self-preservation, really. I figure, Earth Online already sucks up so damn much of my time, the last thing I need is ANOTHER one of these damn games soaking up my days. So I haven’t really tried any other games. Other than that one time when Garona talked me into trying Second Azeroth for like five minutes, but that came to a screeching halt when I wandered into that region full of decked-out scalies, because fuck that shit. I guess I can’t say Spazzle didn’t try to warn me.

Still, this Heroes of the Maelstrom DOES sound pretty badass. Especially if they’re managing to build this into like an all-star team of characters from real life, Earth Online, and all the offshoot universes that they’ve managed to build into other games. Could be fun. I mean, really, just think of it… who’s gonna turn down the chance to have a big barroom brawl, and roll in with a team of Saurfang, Snake-Eyes, Batman, Chewbacca, and Optimus Prime?

(I’m… suddenly a little worried I was able to rattle all those names off the top of my head. Spirits help me, I’m spending too much time around Spazzle.)

 

Hey, Professor G!

I have another one!

A space goat came travelling on his ship from afar,”

–Valinora Lightshorn

Hey, Valinora. Thanks for writing, other than the fact that you’re apparently human, which would ordinarily draw a big ol’ FUCK YOU, except for the facts that (A) you had the good sense to recognize an EPIC VERSE asskicking when you saw it, and (2), speaking of EPIC VERSE, you seem to be stepping right into the role of setting up the ol’ masterpieces for me.

So, sure, fine by me. You want to keep giving me these prompts, I’ll keep making with the EPIC. Oh, and this one looks pretty rich, too… you want me to opine lyrically on the voyages of the space goats, huh? Okay, you asked for it. Strap in, bitches.

A space goat came traveling on his ship from afar,
Twas thousands of years since his mission did start;
He thought Oshu’gun was a good place to park,
And he fell from the sky like a star, a burning star…

The space goats were led by their prophet for years;
They’d fled their home planet of Argus in fear.
Old Velen resolved he was going to steer clear
Of his brothers, consumed by the Legion… so off they raced.

They flew to a planet; I cannot say which.
Kil’jaeden pursued; Velen played bait-and-switch.
Collateral damage — I know it’s a bitch,
But the space goats, they’re making their omelettes… so QQ, eggs.

And they QQ’ed, AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
They died at the hands of the Legion, while the drae’s got away.

From planet to planet, for thousands of years,
Old Velen kept bailin’, till he wound up here.
Then — who would’ve guessed it? — the Legion appeared.
And they were the gift that kept giving, so yeah, thanks, drae’s.

And that’s how the space goats wound up in this war,
But buyer beware if you build that rapport:
The first sign of trouble, they’re out the back door,
And they’ll stick you to pick up their mess, another time…

And you’ll QQ, AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
You’ll die at the hands of the Legion, while the drae’s get away.
          (You don’t have to hold your breath waiting!)
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
          (It’s just a matter of when, not if, believe me!)
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH
          (They won’t even share any of that OP tech of theirs or anything!)
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
          (Not even the specs for the buses they’re gonna throw you under!)
You’ll die at the hands of the Legion, while the drae’s get away…

EPIC VERSE!

 

Yo, Warchief,

Once again, glad to see things worked out with Blackfuse. Now, though, I’ve got a little down-time – well, actually, a lot of down time – and could use a job or two to keep me on my toes. You got anything I can do for you?

–Grotee Metalbeard, Goblin Shaman

Huh. Grottee, are you feeling okay? I guess I shouldn’t jinx a good thing, but man, you got in and out of that letter faster than it takes Sarlin to ramble through her greeting.

Not complaining, mind you. Grats on making the short list of people around here who actually fucking LISTEN.

Anyhow, Grottee, since you were my source for that Tome of Dinomancy, which I’m still keeping safe and secure in my quarters where it can be ready to take back to Pandaria with me and safely out of range of any other, um, incendiary cooking experiments by Shayari… um… Where was I going with this? I think that sentence kind of got away from me once I became momentarily consumed with concern about my home possibly burning to the ground over an arcane-powered loaf of bread.

OH. RIGHT. Jobs I can send you on. And I assume you mean ACTUAL jobs that really have a useful purpose, not the random busywork jobs we give out to random noobs to keep them out of everyone’s hair. (You know, kill seven of these, collect six of these, five gold rings, everything but a partridge in a motherfucking pear tree. I have to admit, though, the ones that crack me up the most are the ones where we make people go digging through piles of poop, and the fuckers run right out and do it.)

So since you were my Tome source, Grottee, why don’t you head down to Pandaria and check in with General Nazgrim. Now, mind you, he’s under orders not to move ahead on Operation Dinosaurs Yippee Ki-Yay until I get down there in a week or so, but then, he was ALSO under orders not to move ahead before, and he still saw fit to screw his head squarely up his ass trying to go off the script. And got that lunkhead asshole Steve eaten and shat out by a dino while he was at it. (SPEAKING OF POOP QUESTS.)

 

Hey Big G!

Wish I had some good news from the Blackfuse Company, but-ah-I kinda had a weird run in a couple of days ago. Some blond elf kid came an’ bought my entire supply of leftover Face Melters. They just weren’t sellin’, even outta Booty Bay! So, this kid got ’em for a song. No, literally. He sang for ’em. Somethin’ about a dead horse. What was the name? Sparkles? Eh, it don’t matter. I didn’t even have a chance to explain the risks to him. Especially in that leather armor he was wearin’. He did sign the indemnity waiver that disavows me of all legal and moral responsibility though. Thank the laws of physics for mooks who don’t take the time to read, even if it, say, had directions to Gallywix’s secret gold an’ dirty magazine vault hidden away out there.

The weird part? Not even a day later, an’ I’m ridin’ my custom-fitted chopper ’round Ashenvale to go an’ help out your guys at the Warsong Lumber Mill with some defective shredders. All of a sudden, the forest shakes, glitter’s rainin’ down from the trees, an’ I come across one very charred but very alive tauren woman an’ that elf kid! She was screamin’ an’ yellin’ about “That’s the last you’ll see of old Magatha!” while limpin’ away through the trees! That ain’t somethin’ ya see every day! An’ that damn kid, he just didn’t give up! Charred to hell, clothes burnt to cinders, an’ he hobbles after her, firin’ off Face Melter after Face Melter! I had to run for cover because I did NOT want to be on the receivin’ end of that blast. Between explosions an’ hackin’ up glitter, I heard him yellin’ “I AM JOHNNY AWESOME! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!” I don’t think that elf’s right in the head. HE TOOK OUT MY DAMNED CHOPPER WITH HIS EXPLOSIVES! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG A WALK IT IS BACK TO BILGEWATER HARBOR WHEN YOU’VE GOT LITTLE LEGS?! I’m currently camped out at the rear gate. Maybe I should pick up the parts for a new chopper while I’m in the neighborhood, huh?

–Glessee “Glitch” Sparkbolt

Okay, Glessee, ordinarily I would give you some obligatory “hello”s and “how are you”s, but right now we’ve got more important things to deal with. Namely, let me make sure I’m getting all this straight. So… what you’re telling me is… the leather-wearing, sparkle-pony-mourning JOHNNY AWESOME —

johnnyawesome

WHO I HATE, ever since he helped Magatha that time — bought up a stash of defective weapons… and then used them, for whatever spirits-forsaken reason, to go after fucking MAGATHA GRIMTOTEM — WHO I HATE MORE, ever since, well, seriously, where do I even fucking START? — and the whole thing ended up with the two of them burned to a crisp and charred all to hell and stumbling all cinder-like through Ashenvale?

Okay, dude, you know what? I know that for the last, I don’t know, FOREVER, I’ve held an unwavering stance of “FUCKING TIME TRAVEL,” but I might have to make an exception here, because goddamn would I love to go back and witness that happening live. I could spread that sight over bread and eat it for fucking dinner. Hot damn. HA! <snort>

 

Hey, Garrosh,

Glad to see you still have new and inventive ways to embarrass yourself in front of your daughter. Congrats on alienating the only family you have.

–Varian Wrynn, Stormwind

Oh, hey, Varian, Nice to see you’ve got time in your schedule to write, seeing as I’m sure sucking as hard as you do must take a load of time and effort. Actually, speaking of which, let me cover this before I forget. I AM kind of in EPIC VERSE mode today, and I know you’ve always appreciated my handiwork, so here, here’s one for you on the house:

Two roads diverged in the Elwynn wood
A mere stone’s cast from House of Wrynn,
And for a while, there alone you stood
And weighed, down one path, the likelihood
Of sights of dread at the Goldshire Inn.

You turned to the other winding path
To the northern abbey’s questing hubs.
Even you could do the mental math:
In Goldshire, your brain would need a bath;
Abbey north would just be full of scrubs.

You chose the north road to navigate,
Where fewer leaves had been trodden back.
A visit to Goldshire Inn could wait;
Perhaps one day if you had a date:
You doubted if you should ever come back.

One day you’ll tell this with much ado;
You’ll pardon if I spoil the suspense:
Two roads diverged in the wood, and you–
You chose the one less traveled through.
But that made no difference, because you still suck.
Fuck you, Varian.

Again I say — EPIC VERSE!

But before I give you the finger and send you on your way, I should probably address your point. I mean, you DID pull your head out of your ass long enough to… actually, now that I look back at what you wrote, you didn’t really pull your head out of your ass for that at all, did you? Probably just as well, seeing as having your head constantly jammed up your ass just means your face will be close enough to kiss it goodbye next time I see you. But, either way, I should probably address your point, assheaded though it was.

So, speaking of being an embarrassment to your kid, well, here, let me let one of your fellow readers make my point for me…

 

Lok’tar Warchief Hellscream,

I write to you, not as an ally of Stormwind. Seriously, fuck that idiot King. I’d have half a mind of giving him the Garona Special, but she is one of the few things I fear. I write to you to extend a hand of peace and understanding, being a child of two worlds like your own daughter. My mother was a human. My father was a Blackrock Orc. I know not of what became of either of my parents. As for my peace offering, well, following in the footsteps of another halfbreed rogue does have its benefits! If only I understood these bizarre goblin and gnomish devices better, I could have captured him singing one of those annoying Earth Online pop songs!

prettyvarian

Enjoy!

–Shakis Addington

So… Shakis… I mean, I’m sure there’s… hehe… there’s plenty for me to… heh… to comment on your family background… <chuckle> …and I could probably make a… hehehe… a smartassy comment about being offered a “Garona Special” of my own a time or two, but… ha… hahaha… I mean… <chortle> …oh seriously, you know I can’t get past that… that… THAT!

HAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAA!

Ahem. Okay. So… um…

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Heh. Hehehehehehe.

Okay! Hehehe… Okay, so, to recap for all of you, I just had one reader notify me that Johnny Awesome bought a load of unstable armaments, went after Magatha Grimtotem, and got both of them blown nearly to the Nether in the process. And THEN, and then…

prettyvarian

HeheheHEHEHEHE HAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!

I mean really, dude, do you realize… a shark could bite my dick off right now, and this would STILL count as an awesome day.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

That’s it for now. I just… I need to go and… like… I don’t know, do something happy.

More soon.

<GIGGLESNORT>

 

[The Warchief’s next mailbag will be Monday, April 4. Send your questions, comments, or other missives to Garrosh via or email or, as always, using the handy-dandy for below:]

 

Horde Iron Chef (part 2)

orgrimmar24

[This is usually the part where a writer would try to build in some catch-up exposition for the benefit of anyone who missed the first part, but you know what? Screw it. If you’re here at all, you’re probably on board with the idea of continuity. Nobody’s fault but your own if you’re confused! Moving on!]

 

LIADRIN: I wouldn’t mind trying some of that myself, Warchief.

GARROSH: Coming up.

LIADRIN: Would you like some, Salandria?

SALANDRIA: That’s okay. You can be the guinea pig for now.

While Garrosh serves up a bowl of noodles to Liadrin, Korrina and Kulkesh enter.

RUEKIE: Hi guys!

KORRINA: Hey.

KULKESH: Greetings, Captain. It’s–

Kulkesh trails off as Garrosh turns to them. He and Korrina stare for a moment.

KORRINA: Um.

KULKESH: Uh… that is… hi, sir. It’s… you really did get into the spirit of things, didn’t you, Captain…?

KORRINA: All I’m going to say is, um, you must be incredibly secure in yourself, sir…

GARROSH: Why is EVERYONE reacting like this?

SHAYARI: Would you like the reasons alphabetically, chronologically, or in order of how much they make me want to wear a bucket over my head for the next thousand years or so?

GARROSH: Okay, that’s it — NO NOODLES FOR YOU!

KULKESH: How are you feeling, Gurt?

GURTASH: Not bad. I mean, I’m still a little sore. And I’m still checking in with the healers every couple of days. But I’m pretty much recovered at this point.

KULKESH: Cool. You know, if you hadn’t come around soon, we were going to head over to Blackrock Spire and go dragon hunting ourselves.

KORRINA: Yeah, we were going to go all Wrathion on their asses.

GURTASH: Heh. I appreciate it, guys.

LIADRIN: I’m glad the healers are nearly done with your injuries, Gurtash. If you ever think it might help, I’m happy to cast a Flash of Light or two, although, granted, my areas of expertise are more in the realm of protection than healing.

MOKVAR: Too bad you weren’t with us in the Spire. We probably could have used a tank up there.

SHAYARI: Pip especially.

RUEKIE: Speaking of which, kind of, has anybody seen Mirembe?

KORRINA: She’s around here somewhere. We ran into her at one of the noodle stands.

KULKESH: I don’t know if she was going to stick around, though.

GURTASH: How come?

KORRINA: Oh, something about that Lantresor guy.

KULKESH: I think she ran into him while she was trying some food, and he made some comment about her weight, or something.

KORRINA: “Potbelly,” was it?

KULKESH: Yeah, I think so.

SHAYARI: Oh, spirits, THAT guy.

GURTASH: You know him?

SHAYARI: We’ve talked a couple times since he came to Orgrimmar. He’s a piece of work, let me tell you. Always going on and on about “oh, children of two worlds,” and “oh, we are alike, you and I,” and “you are not alone,” and “you are not alone,” and “ohh — did I mention? — you are not alone,” and I’m like, okay, I get it, I’m not alone, you’re making me wish I was, Professor YANA.

KORRINA: Old people are weird.

SALANDRIA: How old?

LIADRIN: Don’t start.

Ji enters, accompanied by Spazzle and Giska.

GARROSH: Ah, perfect, just the pudgeball I was looking for.

JI: Hello, Garrosh! Everyone!

SPAZZLE: Hey boss.

MOKVAR: Afternoon, Ji. Everything finally set up?

JI: Almost. Not quite. There’s an even better turnout than I’d expected!

SPAZZLE: Which means even more setup for us to do on the fly…

MOKVAR: How did he rope you into this anyway, Spaz?

GARROSH: Yeah, Pea Pod, I would’ve figured he’d have plenty of pandas to call in on this, seeing as, you know, this IS a panda festival.

JI: Oh, many of the Huojin have been busy working on the festival, sir. But they’ve mostly been cooking.

SPAZZLE: Which left plenty more setup work that Ji needed me to lend a hand with. At an hourly rate, anyway.

JI: Wait, you meant that? I thought you were joking!

SPAZZLE: Hey, I’ve got billing rules to follow! I’m in a union, you know!

MOKVAR: I thought it was a cartel.

SPAZZLE: We’re goblins! Same difference!

JI: But we’re friends!

SPAZZLE: Yeah, well, time is money, friend!

GARROSH: So listen, Deep Dish, you have somewhere I can set up? Probably with some space around it, for when people start flocking to get a taste of my stuff here.

Korrina, Gurtash, Kulkesh, and Giska all turn to look at Ruekie.

RUEKIE: <aside> I’m not saying anything!

KORRINA: <aside> You’re sure? You looked like you were about to say something.

RUEKIE: <aside> No no no, I’m keeping my mouth shut from now on! Every time I open my mouth, somebody sticks– hoooooo boy I almost did it again! Whew!

JI: Well, Garrosh… hmm. I still need to set up a few stations, but…

GARROSH: <pointing> What about right over here? Looks like you’ve got a couple spots.

JI: Well, yes, one of those is reserved, but I suppose you can take the other. Do you need a hand setting up?

GARROSH: Pfft, what’s there to set up?

Garrosh drops his pot on the table with a heavy thud.

OH HEY, we’ve got a cooking fire here and everything.

JI: Oh yes, several of the stations have them. Many of our participants are cooking right here on the premises!

GARROSH: Ah, nice, this way I can whip up a little MORE of this stuff, seeing as we’re probably gonna go through it pretty quick, even before we figure in Mokvar’s little pink friend.

MOKVAR: Uh, yeah, sorry about that again.

GARROSH: Actually… here.

Garrosh reaches over to Mokvar and yanks a page from his pack, sending some of his inscription gear spilling to the ground.

MOKVAR: <gathering his belongings> You know you could have just asked.

GARROSH: <scribbling on the page> Yeah, yeah, boo hoo. You two, front and center.

Korrina and Kulkesh go to Garrosh.

KULKESH: Yes, sir!

GARROSH: Giska, you too.

Giska joins them.

I assume you’re done with her now, Lunchbox.

JI: Actually, Warchief, we still–

GARROSH: My trainee, your student, I outrank you, done, boom.

JI: Oh bother…

GARROSH: <handing the paper to Giska> Okay, you three. Zip over to the market by Grommash Hold and pick up the stuff on this list for me.

KULKESH: Yes, sir!

GISKA: <scanning the list> Uh, just one thing, Captain. This looks like a lot — what do we do for money?

GARROSH: You tell the vendors you’re there on orders of the Warchief, and boy this is a nice little shop you’ve got here, and it sure would be a goddamn shame if somebody went and got blood stains all over it.

KORRINA: <clapping once and rubbing her hands together> Talkin’ my language, sir. On it!

GARROSH: Okay. Off with the lot of you.

While Giska, Korrina, and Kulkesh run off, Faranell enters, sporting a jaw that’s conspicuously mismatched with the rest of his face.

LIADRIN: Doctor! Good afternoon. You’re looking… um… well.

MOKVAR: Edwin! It’s good to see… see you… erm… you… Uh, yeah… so I guess we’ve both gone through some changes since last time I saw you, but…

SHAYARI: Difference is, Beardy, your changes get a lot less obvious once you dip into the back of your closet…

FARANELL: Ah, yes, the ideal person to comment on the current state of my appearance.

SHAYARI: Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t know how to duck fast enough, Eddie!

GARROSH: Hey, Doc, you…

Garrosh stares at Faranell a moment.

Okay, so…

Garrosh stares a moment longer.

I know I might end up regretting I asked this, but…

FARANELL: It’s a loaner. I’m just using it while my regular jaw is in the shop.

hordeironchef3

GARROSH: I… see.

MOKVAR: Gotta say, Edwin, you Forsaken have a really weird way of life sometimes.

FARANELL: Fancy that, that a community of reanimated corpses might have certain oddities in their cultural norms.

MOKVAR: Uh… right.

SALANDRIA: Wait, his… his jaw is in the shop? Did I hear that right?

LIADRIN: Yes, Dr. Faranell had a bit of an incident involving his jaw.

FARANELL: Yes, much in the same sense that Theramore had something of an incident involving the Focusing Iris.

SALANDRIA: What happened?

GARROSH: Oh geez, here we go…

FARANELL: Mana bomb.

SALANDRIA: No, not that!

GARROSH: Oh for FUCK’S sake.

SALANDRIA: I know that part! I mean your jaw!

SHAYARI: Cue the QQ. Or, you know, Q^3.

FARANELL: Suffice to say that my freshly harvested and installed jaw suffered some structural damage when I attempted to dissuade my would-be erstwhile apprentice from racing after her newly discovered father to a ruined dragon’s lair.

SHAYARI: And you know, there isn’t one single part of that sentence that would be possible if any of us led normal lives.

FARANELL: And, incidentally, just to put the button on the whole sordid affair, I am still waiting for certain reimbursements to be made.

GARROSH: Oh, for fuck’s sake. I… okay, FINE. After we’re done with the whole noodle thing here, I’ll get your damn gold. Are you fucking HAPPY now?

FARANELL: Beside myself with delirium. Bear in mind, also, that in light of the time that’s passed, certain sums of interest have accrued.

GARROSH: Fucking hell, are you kidding me? INTEREST now?!

SPAZZLE: Hey, don’t look at me. He came up with that on his own.

GARROSH: Please don’t tell me you trudged out here just to be a pain in the ass over this.

FARANELL: Oh hardly.

GARROSH: Yeah, good.

FARANELL: I’m a mage. I can teleport. I didn’t have to trudge at all.

Speaking of trudging, Malkorok returns doing just that, with Garrosh’s extra pot of noodles still in hand.

SHAYARI: Anyhow, I don’t think Eddie popped over to join the party, Pops.

Malkorok approaches Garrosh’s station and drops his pot on the counter.

MALKOROK: <aside> I’ve spoken to the guards who were charged with overseeing this area.

MOKVAR: Well, if I remember right, undead don’t really have that much of a sense of taste, so…

GARROSH: <aside> Good. What did they have to say for themselves?

MALKOROK: <aside> Very little. I’ll speak to their widows tomorrow.

SALANDRIA: Oh wow, you can’t taste anything? That must suck.

GARROSH: <aside> Yeah, send them a ham or something.

FARANELL: Not quite. We Forsaken have a sense of taste, just a muted one. It’s why I typically favor spicy foods, since the stronger flavors are more perceptible.

GARROSH: Huh. Well, in that case, Doc, you’re probably gonna like these. <spoons out a serving from his pot> These ought to have enough of a kick that you should–

Garrosh starts to hand the bowl to Faranell; as he does, Deliana unstealths and grabs it from Garrosh’s hand.

DELIANA: Another helping? Don’t mind if I do!

Deliana stealths again and vanishes.

MALKOROK: What–?!

GARROSH: Um.

MOKVAR: Don’t look at me.

GARROSH: <spinning back to Malkorok> HEY, MALK, IT SURE WOULD BE AWESOME IF WE HAD A LITTLE SECURITY IN THE FUCKING CAPITAL CITY!

MALKOROK: <grumbling> Yes, sir… I’ll be back again…

Malkorok starts to storm off, passing Mokvar.

One day you’ll be called to account for your odious taste in friends, scribe.

MOKVAR: I don’t know where you got the idea we were friends.

Malkorok grumbles more and marches off.

GARROSH: Okay, well, I’ll hook you up with another serving in a second here, Doc…

FARANELL: No need, really. I’m mainly here for work reasons.

GARROSH: Work reasons? How?

MOKVAR: You’ve known him long enough that you should probably know better than to ask that question.

FARANELL: Research, and potential sample collection. I figured that at an event like this, someone was bound to produce something usefully toxic, just by the law of averages.

GARROSH: Ah.

JI: Oh, no, Dr. Edwin, I can assure you everyone here is being very careful with their food.

FARANELL: Yes, I suppose, but one can always hope.

Faranell reaches into his cloak and produces an empty vial.

Now don’t mind me; I’m just going to hover around a bit in case someone — cross fingers — turns green.

MOKVAR: Hmph. Or turns chalky white and drops dead?

FARANELL: Touche.

GARROSH: By the way, Lunchbox, are there any kind of prizes for this shindig? Any judges who’ll be coming around that I should be looking to impress and not at all threaten with physical violence, no not at all?

JI: No, sir, no prizes. The only competition in an event like this is with oneself!

GARROSH: Yeah, I should have figured you pandas would be a little too touchy-feely for a straight-up contest.

JI: Not so! The Noodle Festival is meant to be a day of community and sharing, yes, but there’s a long Pandaren tradition of competitive cooking as well!

MOKVAR: You guys really do take your food seriously, don’t you?

SPAZZLE: You wouldn’t have to ask that if you’d been with us shopping this morning.

LIADRIN: What kind of cooking contests do you have, Ji?

JI: Well, one of our most honored customs is… well, the name doesn’t quite translate precisely, but I suppose the nearest approximation would be… “Iron Chef.” It’s a competition in which challengers are given a secret ingredient without notice and must prepare a gourmet meal with it in a limited window of time.

SPAZZLE: That actually sounds kind of cool.

MOKVAR: Spazz, you live on cheap take-out.

SPAZZLE: I know, but this has a whole mad scientist angle that I can appreciate.

FARANELL: Indeed, not to mention that rushed food preparation leaves ample room for hazardous contaminants to come into play. Not that anyone would wish for such a terrible thing, of course.

JI: Based on how well the festival is being received, perhaps we could adapt the competition for the Horde as well!

MOKVAR: Sort of a Horde Iron Chef? Or… Iron Horde Chef? Or… I don’t know, something like that, I guess.

GARROSH: I don’t know about the contest, but fuck, I LOVE the ring of “Iron Horde” — that sounds fucking BADASS, dude.

SHAYARI: Maybe you should look into rebranding, Pops.

GARROSH: MAYBE I SHOULD.

Dontrag, Utvoch, and Taktani enter, carrying boxes.

Don’t think I won’t get right on that shit and…

Dontrag et al start putting their boxes down at the station next to Garrosh.

And…

UTVOCH: Greetings, Warchief!

GARROSH: <turns to Ji> You’re fucking kidding me, right?

TAKTANI: Ooh everybody’s here! And we get to be next to Mr. Warchief! This is going to be so fun! Yay!

GARROSH: Oh fuck me…

RUEKIE: <aside> Oh, sure, he says that and nobody bats an eye…

DONTRAG: A pleasure to see you as always, your supreme Warchieferousness, sir!

GARROSH: Maybe if I don’t make eye contact they’ll assume I don’t know they’re there…

UTVOCH: Sir?

TAKTANI: Mr. Warchief?

JI: Yes, sir. <turning to Dontrag and Utvoch> Well then, Utvoch… Dontrag…

DONTRAG: I’m Dontrag. He’s Utvoch.

UTVOCH: Oh man. I knew I should have brought the letter…

JI: Oh. Okay. Well, your cooking station is ready. I’m looking forward to finding out what you’re making for us!

DONTRAG: Yeah, so are we.

JI: Pardon?

UTVOCH: Well, we don’t really have a recipe that we’re using.

JI: Oh…?

MOKVAR: Uh oh…

DONTRAG: We don’t know any noodle recipes, so we figured we’d just grab a bunch of ingredients and see what we could come up with on the fly!

GARROSH: Yeah, I don’t see any way that this could go wrong…

FARANELL: Now now, let’s not be hasty. I may be about to hit pay dirt.

TAKTANI: Oh hiiiiii Dr. Zombie!

FARANELL: Oh dear.

TAKTANI: I’m super happy to see you again!

Shayari giggles.

MOKVAR: Wait, she knows Edwin?

LIADRIN: I believe she met him a time or two when I first accompanied Shayari to Orgrimmar.

MOKVAR: And I missed this?

SHAYARI: I might possibly have maybe brought her with me a couple weeks ago when I went to the Undercity for a mage lesson, too. Possibly.

GARROSH: Oh, yeah, piss off the creditor even more.

TAKTANI: It was fun! I like Zombie Town! It’s kind of stinky, but that’s okay — it’s like a big haunted house! BOO! Hee hee!

SHAYARI: Kind of like it’s Hallow’s End all the time, right, Tak?

TAKTANI: I knowwwwww!

FARANELL: Must you encourage her?

GARROSH: Right there with you, Doc…

TAKTANI: Ooh! Ooh! Do you do Hallow’s End costumes in Zombie Town, Dr. Zombie? What are you going to be this year??

FARANELL: Far, far, away, Dark Lady permitting.

TAKTANI: Oh. <scratches her head> I don’t know what that looks like, but I bet it’ll be fun!

SHAYARI: You’ll have to go with me again so you can see, Tak!

TAKTANI: Yay! I get to come visit again! Won’t that be fun, Dr. Zombie?

FARANELL: Oh yes. My heart is utterly overflowing with joy.

TAKTANI: Yay! Hee hee!

FARANELL: Or possibly infectious bile. It’s hard to tell. My heart hasn’t beaten in over a decade, after all.

TAKTANI: <blinks> Huh?

FARANELL: Nothing to trouble yourself over. Just think of my heart as you would, say, your brain.

GARROSH: Lot of that going around with this crew, Doc.

DONTRAG: I don’t get it.

GARROSH: Case in point.

FARANELL: Indeed.

Giska, Korrina, and Kulkesh return with several large packages, which they put down at Garrosh’s station.

KULKESH: Good news, sir — Olvia just got some fresh talbuk steaks in.

GARROSH: <sorting through packages> Good deal. You kids get everything?

KORRINA: I think so, Captain. The vendors kind of fumbled their way through the whole order.

GISKA: Maybe next time don’t start breaking fingers right away?

KORRINA: Maybe next time mofos don’t get lippy.

GARROSH: Yeah, well, here, now that you’ve all earned your keep, have some grub.

Garrosh passes bowls of noodles to Giska, Korrina, and Kulkesh.

GISKA: Thanks, Captain!

KULKESH: Smells good, sir.

LIADRIN: I must say, Garrosh, I’m surprised — these are quite good.

GARROSH: Why is everyone always shocked out of their minds any time they find out I can do something other than punch people and scratch my ass?

MOKVAR: To be fair, you don’t exactly project complexity…

LIADRIN: You said these were a family recipe, Warchief?

GISKA: They’re not bad, Captain.

GARROSH: Kind of. I sort of improvised around something Greatmother used to make back in Nagrand.

LIADRIN: Did she teach you?

GARROSH: Not really, I just — what’s with you, Korrina? Something wrong with your food?

KORRINA: Uh, not really, sir. <poking awkwardly at her noodles with chopsticks> I mean, they look good, and they smell good… I’ll let you know how they taste once I figure out how to use these damn things.

KULKESH: They’re a little awkward at first, yeah, but they’re not so bad once you get used to them.

SHAYARI: <reaching back and adjusting the chopsticks in her hair> Oh, hey, is that what these things are supposed to be for? I was wondering why they were giving them out.

Korrina starts to pick up some noodles with her chopsticks, only to have them slip loose and drop back into her bowl.

KORRINA: Ugh — yeah, this isn’t so bad at all

GISKA: No no, try like this… see, you keep one of them balanced against your thumb, and…

Korrina takes another stab at her food with the chopsticks, but loses her grip, sending one chopstick — and most of the noodles she was picking up — spilling onto the ground.

KORRINA: Dammit! <throws her other chopstick down> Oh hell with it…

Korrina reaches over to Ruekie and snaps one of the ornamental forks off of her shoulder guards, then uses it to pick up some noodles.

RUEKIE: Hey!

KORRINA: There.

RUEKIE: Aw, man

hordeironchef4

DONTRAG: Uh, Ut, what did you put into those?

UTVOCH: Huh? I didn’t put anything. I just cooked the noodles.

DONTRAG: But they’re all gooey or something.

TAKTANI: That was me, Mr. D!

UTVOCH: You added something? What did you put in there?

TAKTANI: Cheese!

DONTRAG: Wait, what? Cheese doesn’t… I mean, how does that even work?

TAKTANI: <blinks> Um… I like cheese!

UTVOCH: You know, this doesn’t smell half bad…

TAKTANI: So noodles are good, and cheese is good, so now they can all be good together!

DONTRAG: Tak, you can’t just… I mean, who puts cheese in noodles?

TAKTANI: I’d take it out if you want, Mr. D, but it’s all melty now!

UTVOCH: It actually smells pretty good…

DONTRAG: Noodles and cheese? Really?

UTVOCH: <eating some of the noodles> Donty, seriously, try some of this…

TAKTANI: Do you like it? Yay!

KULKESH: Hey, you know, that does smell pretty good over there…

While Kulkesh, Korrina, and Giska make their way over to Dontrag and Utvoch’s station, Malkorok returns.

MALKOROK: I’ve put additional patrols around the gates, Warchief. It would of course be easier if so many of these… people… weren’t wandering around, but it should suffice for now.

GARROSH: Yeah, well, we can’t exactly barricade off half the city.

MALKOROK: Yes, sir.

KULKESH: Oh wow, this really does taste good!

GISKA: Noodles and cheese — who would’ve guessed?

Ji leans over Dontrag, Utvoch, and Taktani’s pot while Gurtash, Ruekie, and Salandria gather around.

JI: <sniffing> Ooh, a triumphant culinary experiment, I see! Don’t mind if I try some myself…

Ji reaches over Dontrag’s shoulder and scoops some noodles into his (cartoonishly oversized) bowl.

GARROSH: What the… does that crap even have any damn MEAT in it?

TAKTANI: Oh don’t worry, Mr. Warchief! Nobody had to hurt any poor animals for this!

GARROSH: For fuck’s sake, the murder’s the tastiest part!

MOKVAR: I don’t know, boss, looks like they’re starting to draw a following.

Spazzle eyes the passersby who have started to gather around D&U&T’s station, then leans up to try to peek in their pot.

SPAZZLE: Huh… Uh, Tak?

TAKTANI: Hi, Mr. Goblin!

SPAZZLE: Uh, yeah, hi. So… what kind of cheese did you put in there?

TAKTANI: Oh, nothing fancy, Mr. Goblin. Just regular old cheddar!

SPAZZLE: Huh… that stuff barely costs a few silver…

TAKTANI: We could use another kind if you’d like it more!

SPAZZLE: No, it’s not that, just… Uh, Utvoch? Aren’t those noodles the kind they have in those little packets from Pandaria?

UTVOCH: Oh, yeah, that’s why I got them. They’re crazy cheap — they’re only something like eight copper a pack, so you can get a ton of them and barely spend anything.

SPAZZLE: Yeah, uh, that’s what I thought.

Spazzle looks at the growing line, then thinks a moment.

So… how would you guys feel about a business venture…?

UTVOCH: Uh… maybe?

GARROSH: Okay, fuck it, I have to see what the big fucking deal is with this crap.

Garrosh shoves Utvoch out of the way and scoops some of the noodles and cheese into a bowl.

It doesn’t even SMELL like anything special, I don’t know why there’s people coming out of the damn woodwork to–

Deliana unstealths and lifts the bowl out of Garrosh’s hands.

DELIANA: Oh, you need a taste tester? Sure thing, Garry!

Deliana stealths again and disappears.

GARROSH: <spinning back to Malkorok> WHAT AM I PAYING YOU FOR?!

 

So, you know. That went about as well as anything else I fucking try to do around here. I really might have to look into that “Iron Horde” thing, though. It seriously does sound fucking badass.

More soon.