Tag Archives: stonetalon
Tale of Two Morons
For this edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge, we revel in the Warchief’s endless satisfaction with the quality of his minions…
I yearn for that day, years ago,
When as a new Warchief I ventured afield
From outpost to outpost to know
How utterly we’d made Alliance troops yield:
Much less than I’d hoped;
For all that I scoped,
Our victory was far from sealed.
Admittedly, first I just moped
And wished I had minions more worthy to guide.
But okay. Fail minions. I coped.
And figured I might as well see the bright side.
When lemons are there,
You make lemon squares.
At least, you know, that’s what I tried.
I thought if I just got out there
And showed the fail minions how it should be done.
The sight of a badass with flair
Might get through some brick heads — perhaps everyone!
That plan wasn’t sound,
’Cause morons abound;
My suffering had just begun.
So in Ashenvale’s where I found
Two blathering morons I can’t tell apart.
Again in a cave underground —
“They’re totally USELESS!” was true from the start.
They’ve shadowed me since
To make my brain wince.
You know what? They’re not very smart.
I’ve longed for that day ever since,
A day before meeting them, maybe a week.
Perhaps even go back, convince
My past self, unknowing, what pain they would wreak,
Then get him to bolt
Away from those dolts
And out of the zone in a streak.
I’d bear any torment or jolt
For them once again to be dopes I don’t know.
No Legion or Darkspear Revolt
Could ever cause me even half as much woe.
But with them I’m stuck.
Unless I use FUCK-
ING TIME TRAVEL once more — yeah, no.
EPIC VERSE!
(Keep those opening lines coming! For anyone who missed last time, the Warchief invites everyone to offer opening lines for this year’s poetry month; Garrosh will pick as many as possible to use to open his EPIC VERSES. More soon!)
The Expendables
When Dontrag and Utvoch enlisted at first,
Within a few minutes, Thrall thought he was cursed.
They’d barely shown up when their path was reversed:
To Ashenvale they were assigned.
To Splintertree Post they were hurried along,
Where Utvoch would sneak to nearby Forest Song
To leer at the draenei (It know, it’s so wrong) —
The hooves spellbound his one-track mind.
At first, D&U made a good enough showing,
Until Mastok made his mistake, without knowing:
One “hello” in passing; that just got them going.
Try shutting them up? It’s no use.
Two weeks of their babbling left Mastok shaken,
But then came the Shattering, saving his bacon:
For all the destruction and death it was makin’,
It also gave him his excuse.
With Ashenvale rocked, opportunity soared —
Then Silverwind Refuge was claimed by the Horde!
Mastok realized they needed new troops on board,
And he knew two orcs for the job.
They caught the next caravan heading down there.
The transfer was rushed, but Mastok didn’t care;
Just let them be stuck in Captain Tarkan’s hair!
Let his be the time that they rob.
But Tarkan’s a smart one — he sized up his gains
And knew right away D&U had no brains,
And, saving himself several dozen migraines,
He shuffled them out of his sight.
By this point, ol’ D&U’s heads, they were spinning;
These transfers had them dizzy idiot-grinning.
But who knew their story was only beginning?
From Ashenvale they rode by night.
To Stonetalon Mountains they made their meander,
Where Overlord Krom’gar was their new commander.
They showed him their papers, he scarce took a gander,
And took them on board to enlist ’em.
So basically Tarkan made Krom’gar a sucker;
That’s great, ’cause you know I hate that motherfucker.
That dude can lean into my ass with a pucker —
Except I’ve already dismissed ’im.
Fast forward a few months, and D&U’s blather
Had worn out its welcome (though really I’d rather
Have seen them annoy Krom’gar straight to a lather);
He’d tired of their jokes and their speeches.
At this point, some silence was all Krom’gar craved
(If only he knew he’d get lots in the grave),
So he sent their asses off into a cave:
Assigned them to watch the Deep Reaches.
And that’s where I found them; I never suspected
What kind of annoying asshats I’d collected,
Or to what frustration I’d soon be subjected;
Perhaps Krom’gar got the last laugh.
They’re always around now; it’s like some confinement
Where nothing I do can untwine our entwinement;
You’d think someone else could once get the assignment —
I need better minions on staff.
So this is my life now — I go anyplace,
I turn around once, I’ve got them in my face;
Pandaria, Orgrimmar — hell, Netherspace!
All plans to escape just unravel.
As much as I’d like to unload them, I’m stuck;
When you’re Warchief, there’s no more passing the buck.
I wish I could go back and warn myself — fuck,
Strike that idea. FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.
So ever since D&U first got recruited,
The one common thread has been them getting booted.
That might be the only job to which they’re suited
Since nobody wants them around.
If you had to deal with them, you’d do it, too.
I’m sure I’ll repeat this more times than a few:
You cannot spell “dumbass” without D and U.
Now ’scuse me — in beer I must drown.
EPIC VERSE!
Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge continues later this week — remember, new BRILLIANT AND EPIC COMPOSITIONS will go up every Tuesday and Friday for the duration of National Poetry Month. Be sure to post suggestions and requests for future installments in the comments below — give me a topic, give me an opening line, give me someone who’s done you wrong who you’d like me to give an EPIC VERSE takedown. Unless you think I did you wrong somehow. WHICH I MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT. So maybe YOU will be getting the takedown. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES, HUH?
More soon.
Further tourist destinations
So while I’m making my way down to Pandaria again (I’M ON A BOAT, MOTHERFUCKERS), I went ahead and loaded up the blog with a couple goodies, not least of all being this, the final installment (OR IS IT?) (probably but you never know) of GARROSH’S POETRY CHALLENGE.
For those of you coming late to the party, or who’ve had maybe some sort of head trauma (for some reason, Dontrag and Utvoch come to mind, which is unfortunate, partly because it’s ALWAYS unfortunate when you think about Dontrag and Utvoch, but also because something seems inherently wrong about any sentence that includes “Dontrag and Utvoch” and “mind”) and so you’re severely prone to forgetting shit, I’ve been commemorating National Poetry Month by inviting all of you, MY LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS, to write your own original poems. You send in poems, I write my own in response, you get shown up by my brilliance, you cry, I win. In other words, Thursday.
So, on to today’s guest poet — namely, our old friend Sarlin. Let’s get right to it…
Rainforests sprinkled in glitter
Horde posts and dead Night Elf litter
Demons, ghosts and cans of fel
Old Gods and Ghamoo-ra’s shell
Twilight’s Hammer plus ten punts
Brainless orcs, one scout, ten grunts
Draka with an extra “a”
Warlocks with plots to betray
Throwing stars and soaring glaives
Slice wooden shields and silly staves
Demolishers spitting out their skill
And rare spawns that the Horde can’t kill
Spider rogues, like we don’t already flee them
But now they stealth, so you can’t SEE them
Wolves and foxes and walking pus
And giant trees that throw stuff at us
Sounds bearable, if you’re asking me.
We’ll be out of here at level thirty
Long enough to earn your wail and flail
Welcome, Horde, to Ashenvale
Well, I’ll give her this much — she managed not to blurt out one of those multi-volume saga poems. I was really bracing myself for something like 300 stanzas of fifteen lines each. But no, she managed to keep herself reined in, and not embarrass herself too severely in the process. Maybe I should make her communicate in rhyme more often — seems like it forces her to be a lot more concise.
She DID wind up leaving out a few things in her tour of Ashenvale, though. Here, I’ll fix that…
Listen now while I’m detailing
Ins and outs of Ashenvaling.
Come and batter; foes will scatter;
Plus you’ll escape Barrens chatter.
Sleepy words of night elf slumber;
Glitter coating Warsong lumber.
Magnataur fight for the Horde might —
Meh, back to the drawing board, right?
Wyverns soaring, bombs downpouring,
Battle lines are tug-of-warring;
Hopes are stark in battles sparkin’;
Morons think they’re still with Tarkan.
Furbolgs’ mischief that they wish up.
(These ones don’t call me Archbishop.)
Dragons guard a nightmare portal.
(Used to prove you weren’t immortal.)
But one site to be saluted,
Scene of triumph undisputed:
Dark-skied canyon we know well
Where Grommash stood and demons fell.
Next zone’s not for the fainthearted;
Stonetalon: don’t get me started.
Things are better there — don’t bristle —
Ever since Krom’gar’s dismissal.
EPIC VERSE!
There you go. That’s more like it. Everything you ever wanted to know about Ashenvale, and probably a few things you didn’t, with maybe two or three things you didn’t give a shit about thrown in as a chaser.
So, that does it for this year’s poetry challenge. Unless maybe I decide to toss some bonus goodies up here before the month completely runs out. Either way, congratulations to everyone who was HONORED BEYOND THEIR WILDEST DREAMS by being included, and thanks to everyone who submitted. And a big fat WHY THE FUCK NOT? to everyone who didn’t. Lazy fuckers.
Well, even though poetry month is winding down, you jokers still have a chance to show you’re not COMPLETELY lazy and useless. We’ve got a brand spanking new mailbag coming up in short order, so if you’re one of those clowns who couldn’t be bothered to participate in my GENEROUS ATTEMPT TO BRING SOME DAMN CULTURE TO YOU SLOBS, well, you better get off your ass and scrape together a letter. HEY, LOOK, SLACKERS — IT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE TO RHYME OR ANYTHING.
There you go. You know the drill — e-mail link up top on the right, form below. Get on it. More soon.
Monday mailbag
So if you’re reading this, it means that this pre-scheduled post I had Spazzle rig up for me has kicked in. See, I figured it’d been a while since I dipped into the ol’ mailbag, only I wasn’t sure how long I was going to wind up being tied up with the whole Blackrock Spire business, so I had Spazzle set this thing up so this mailbag post would go up automatically if I didn’t get back by a certain point. Which, if the post has gone up and you’re seeing it, totally raises the perfectly fair question WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON DOWN THERE I MEAN SERIOUSLY
ANYWAY.
On to the mail!
I have heard of your feats of battle, and wish to know, How did you get so good at fighting? do you have a secret trainer? what’s your favourite move? and lastly, is Gorehowl hard to wield?
I have heard of this daughter of yours, and would like to offer my services as a teacher if you wish. P.S i am a blood elf death knight.
Salamah’ashala noreh, warchief. (Goodbye/farewell)
–Ranacore Bloodblade
Hey, Ranacore, thanks for writing. No secret trainer, no real secret source for my combat badassery in general. Just talent, son, pure talent. A long childhood history of people in Garadar talking shit about my dad didn’t hurt, what with all the opportunities it afforded me to practice kicking ass at an early age.
Favorite move? I’d have to go with the plain ol’ time-honored axe to the face. I guess I’m just old-fashioned that way.
Yes and no on the Gorehowl question. See, it’s perfectly balanced – you’ll never find an axe that’s better crafted in terms of distributing its weight and mass to lend itself to generating force while maintaining flexibility. Somebody really did a job and a half designing it. But at the same time…man, that motherfucker is heavy as shit. Which leads to a whole lot of people stumbling over, the first time they try to pick it up.
As for training Shayari, I think I’ve got that covered. Plus, she’s a mage, so I figure most of her training would be out of your area of expertise, seeing as you’re a death knight and all. On the other hand, you’re also a blood elf, so maybe you could show her, I don’t know, some fashion tips or hairstyling techniques, since I think maybe she’s into that shit.
Many thanks for the answers Warchief. As an aside, seeing as how you cavorted with the Draenei yourself, would it be presumptuous to look for a little leniency if I hook up with one myself? As a Tauren, the horns and hooves (and hips and tail) are kind of a turn on. I mean c’mon, what’s good for the Warchief should be cool for the rest of us, right?
–Karlsohn, Thunder Bluff
Dude, you think I’m not paying for that one? We all make our iffy decisions, Karlsohn, and some of them come back to haunt you, but only the very, very special ones have birthdays.
Greetings Honorable Warchief Hellscream,
We have a small problem in Pandaria: Gnomes. Mainly the dead ones. The Yaungol just love to kill them. I will not deceive you and say that I understand why the Yaungol kill these creatures, let alone roast their bodies. Seriously, it smells like bacon around their camps these days. Many of my Omnia trainees, especially the younger ones just past their Trial of the Red Blossoms, mistake it for actual bacon. It has led to some…uncomfortable moments. I am also no lover of gnomes. They are creepy with their bouncing, unnatural perkiness, and candy colored hair (also, those pigtails? Definitely NOT made of candyfloss. Lao Chin found this out the hard way). At least the Grummles have a use with ferrying supplies to our Monastery! So I ask of you, is there some use for these roasted Gnomes? I thank you for any advice you have to offer.
–Shen Wei Pureblossom, Healer of the Shado-Pan
So…while I’ve been a long-time supporter of the idea that the only good gnome is a dead gnome…roasted gnome? Fuck if I know. Probably the only thing roasted gnomes could have going for them is that they ARE dead – emphatically dead, in fact, like way past the point where someone could come along and raise them as undead gnomes, because CREEPY AS FUCK.
So, on the down side, I don’t really have an answer for you as far as what roasted gnomes are good for. On the plus side, I think we DO have an answer as far as what yaungol are good for.
I write to you seeking honest answers regarding our ongoing war with the Alliance and when it will end (as all wars must). Some time ago, my mate Detanga marched off to war as a soldier in your army. She would return home from many a battle with a few scars and some tales to tell our two children.
Just the other day, a grim Blackrock orc shoved her notice of death into my hand.
My heart burns with the desire to track down her killers and tear them apart, but I am a breeder of wolves, not a warrior. I would not last five minutes in battle. Detanga was always the stronger of us two. She served in a unit as part of our initial invasion into this land of Pandaria, but she died while defending our port there, Domination Point, during a cowardly Alliance attack.
I beg of you Warchief, send what forces you can to the Alliance’s port, this so-called Lion’s Landing. I am not the only one on my street to lose family in the attack. The blood of the fallen must be repaid! Know that had I the power, I would take this charge myself, but I am no warrior, as I have said.
Yours faithfully,
–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master
Way to bring the room down, man. Yeesh.
I mean…um… Sorry for your loss, Ogunaro. (By the by, any relation to Shyrka Wolfrunner?) Your mate must have fallen during one of a bunch of Alliance raids on Domination Point a couple months ago. All of them were repelled, but there were heavy losses in some cases – Warlord Bloodhilt among them, in the same raid as your Detanga if I remember right. Know that she died victorious, with honor, driving off our enemies and reminding them one more time what happens when they cross our people.
You’re right, though – they have another reminder coming to them. As it happens, I have Wolf-Rider Gaja, Dark Cleric Laresa, Thauma…um…Thamautu… Them…some blood what’s name is Saresse, and a few others, working on a counterstrike. When we roll over that kiddie-building-block castle they call a fortress, I’ll see to it you have a front-row seat.
Also, unrelated, seeing as you’re a kennel master: Do you have any tips for cleaning, um, wyvern stains? Mortimer’s gotten…well, let’s say, kind of uneven about minding himself. Although it IS kind of funny when he makes Malkorok have to toss out yet another pair of boots.
I have been reading your blog in its entirety on the recommendation of a friend from Thunder Bluff (it helps with my downtime as part of the Northrend cleanup crew). I noticed you have a…violent dislike of Magatha Grimtotem. As a Tauren loyal to Thunder Bluff and a former Grimtotem as well, I would offer up my axe at a chance to help you hunt her down. I missed my chance when the crone was in chains in Thousand Needles, but I would not let you down. I had grown disillusioned with her leadership some time before her treachery against Thunder Bluff was known, and when it was…well, that was the straw that broke the kodo’s back.
–Bahunada Darkhide of the Runetotems
PS: Would you mind if she was slightly “tenderized” before being brought before your judgment?
Oh fuck yes. FUCK THE HELL YES. Have at it, Bahunada. (By the way, I don’t know if you were aware of this, but your name is a grade-A bitch to type.) Go track her down in whatever cave she’s slithered into these days, smack her around, and drag her ass in. Feel free to take as many liberties as you want when it comes to the smacking around. I want her alive, mind you, but other than outright killing her, listen to your heart. Remember, “clinging to life” still counts as alive.
Oh, and while you’re at it, if you run into that other fucker Johnny Awesome – you know, the one who fucking LET MAGATHA LOOSE IN THE FIRST PLACE when she was all chained up in Thousand Needles way back when – feel free to open up as many cans of smack-smack-stab-die on HIS ass as you want, too. You’ll note that the whole “bring ’em in alive” thing is totally optional in his case.
I took alot of what you said to heart and I’ve been doing those errands all over the place! First I went to Silverpine. It’s really smelly there. Like, worse than the Troll area in the city, but it doesn’t make me giggly like the Troll area does. And it’s all spooky there with all the walking corpses. It’s just not cool. Stonetalon was better, until I met Mr. Dontrag and Mr. Utvoch. They really are kinda stupid, aren’t they? They weren’t as bad as that Tirion guy. First he sat me down for a good two hours to just talk. I kinda tuned him out after the first ten minutes, although I wish I coulda hit him with my shield! I think that Daria lady wouldn’t have liked it, though. His stupid trainees are super weak and lazy too! I think I made one of those elfs cry after smacking them around a bit. Alot of them didn’t stand a chance, although their trainer thought I was a boy! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?! He sent me on a bunch of stupid errands his trainees were too lazy or beat up to do. I showed those dumb trainees how a real orc gets things done and what does Tirion do? He starts to rage at me, then thanks me for “rooting out a traitor to the Crusade” or whatever he said. I started tuning it out when he got going again. He also smelled funny, but more like Gamon after he’s kicked out of the inn.
I found my warrior calling too! I really like smacking things with a shield and protecting my fellow orcs! Mostly the shield smacking, though.
—Mirembe, Orgrimmar
Hey, Mirembe. Nice work on the warrioring. Especially nice work on the shield bashing. Not really my thing, mind you, but it’s always good to have some tanky types around, especially considering most trainees don’t want to bother with the job when they can just run around blowing shit up, metaphorically or otherwise. I might have to look into getting you an extra goodie bag or something.
It’s good that you’re keeping busy, even if…well, I mean, it sounds like you’ve been mostly surrounding yourself with less than the best company. Not that I’m one to talk. But believe me, I know all too well about the fail that happens when you let the jackass cocktail of Dontrag/Utvoch/Tirion into your life.
I haven’t seen Tirion for a while now – yay for me, sucks for you – but I’m not surprised he’s still yammering on. And I mean “still yammering on” as in still yammering on about whatever bullshit he was saying last time I saw him, months ago, without even coming up for air. And you know, as much as I hate cutting any slack to those Argent Dawn Crusade Talk to the Silver Hand people…like… yeah, I’m sure the trainees up there ARE weak and lazy. They’re probably fucking EXHAUSTED. Wouldn’t YOU be, if you had to listen to Highlord Paragraph all day every day?
As for the Wonder Twins…shit, I don’t even know WHAT D&U would have been doing back in Stonetalon. I mean, they’ve been on detachment down in Pandaria, and they’ve just been in Orgrimmar temporarily while a bunch of us have been back for a check-in, so… I don’t know, maybe they’re up there visiting someone? Do they even have friends? Poor fuckers, if so. Or, I don’t know, maybe they got confused and went right back to their old posts in Stonetalon, because after all, “confused” is pretty much a default state for those two. t’s not like they’ve been reassigned back to Overlord Cliffwalker where they’d be stuck back up there permanently…and…um…back to being HIS headache, and out of my hair, and…
Um…
Hang on.
I need to go look for a form.
As always, keep those letters coming! Next mailbag April 6! E-mail garrosh1337@gmail.com or submit your message below:
30 Days of Character Development #3: D&U
[Each week, a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Since I didn’t get around to posting a profile last week, this time around I’m making up for it with a double of sorts. Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about!]
Occupation: Horde infantry soldiers (ranks: Dontrag—Sergeant; Utvoch—Scout)
Age: Dontrag—31; Utvoch—29
Race: Orc
Class: Warrior
Group affiliations: Horde (members), Overlord Krom’gar’s army (former members)
Known relatives: Dontrag—Adrasa (sister), Ug’thok (nephew); Utvoch—Krila (aunt)
Earth Online notes: D&U play EO with mains GilbertRose (Dontrag) and SteveKravitz (Utvoch), and are members of Garrosh’s guild <Warchief>. Utvoch briefly changed his character’s name to “Dranosh,” but was roundly criticized for the name choice, because really. He reversed the name change shortly thereafter. Also, guildmate Sylvanas Windrunner appears to take particular amusement in baiting the duo into arguments about which of them is which.
First appearance: “Visiting Zoram’gar” (first mention), “Underneath the bunker” (first full transcript appearance)
Key posts and plot points:
- An unsuspecting Garrosh first encountered Dontrag and Utvoch at Silverwind Refuge in “Visiting Zoram’gar” and dispatched them to join Overlord Krom’gar’s forces in Stonetalon. He would later encounter them during his investigation of Krom’gar’s operations in “Underneath the bunker” – featuring D&U in supporting roles in Mokvar’s first transcript.
(D&U can be found in-game both at Silverwind Refuge and in the Deep Reaches beneath Krom’gar’s fortress. In the latter instance, they’re joined by goblin questgiver Blastgineer Igore; blog readers may take a certain amusement in Igore’s quest-text commentary on our cerebrally challenged friends.)
- After Krom’gar’s “dismissal,” D&U remained stationed in Stonetalon, under the command of newly appointed Overlord Cliffwalker. They were frequently recalled to Orgrimmar and other locations for various missions, but remained officially assigned to Cliffwalker in Stonetalon prior to their dispatch to Pandaria.
- Evidently, according to a letter from D&U in one mailbag, Utvoch has (or had) enrolled in some extension courses, including diplomatic writing. Academic records from the undertaking have not been released. At one point, Utvoch convinced Dontrag to take a class with him, but the pair failed the course when they were caught handing in the same paper. To the same instructor. Yes, really.
- Utvoch – sans Dontrag – traveled to old Hillsbrad, ten years in the past, with Garrosh, Mokvar, Liadrin, and Faranell during the Anti-Plague of Southshore storyline. Like the other members of the group, Utvoch later found himself trapped between two fluctuating timelines; Garrosh and Mokvar noted, with no small degree of amusement, that this situation likely led to many confusing discussions between Utvoch and Dontrag.
- Utvoch met and befriended Taktani in Mulgore just before she started writing in to Garrosh’s mailbag; Dontrag would meet her as well not long after. Since Taktani’s arrival in Pandaria, Garrosh has charged D&U with keeping an eye on Tak and generally helping her navigate the complexities of the adult world, a job that Utvoch appears to have taken to somewhat more enthusiastically than Dontrag has.
- Many people, Garrosh prime among them, frequently lose track of who is Dontrag and who is Utvoch – which is actually rather peculiar, given that they don’t really look very much alike. Sylvanas, in guild chat, seems to understand which of them is which, but deliberately baits them into arguments on the subject anyway.
- Regular readers will be well aware of Garrosh’s habit of giving people (often dismissive) nicknames. Dontrag and Utvoch are among his most frequent targets; some of his favorites for them include the Dumbass Duo, Ketchup and Mustard, and the Wonder Twins.
In their own words:
Describe your relationship with your mother or your father or both. Was it good? Bad? Were you spoiled rotten, ignored? Do you still get along now, or no?
I didn’t know my father. I think he was killed in the attack on Shattrath. I got along pretty well with my mother, though. She always used to tell me how I could be anything I wanted to be and accomplish anything I set my mind to. Then I started working with the trainers and she had her first parent conference. After that she mostly saved the thing about being whatever you want for my sister. –Dontrag
I don’t really remember my parents. They both died in the first war after the Dark Portal opened. My aunt ended up raising me until I was old enough to fend for myself. –Utvoch
How vain are you? Do you find yourself attractive?
I guess I was a little vain for a while, during that year in the Barrens when I was trying to get away with the comb-over. I started losing my hair early and it took a while for me to accept that I wasn’t fooling anyone. –Dontrag
I don’t think I’m bad looking or anything, but I don’t really think I’m anything special. Luckily I spend most of my time hanging out with this guy, so I figure I must end up looking like at least a 7. –Utvoch
What are your most prominent physical features?
My thick, full head of hair. –Utvoch
Screw you, Ut. –Dontrag
Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from. If you don’t have any, is there a reason?
Well, I’ve got this one scar on my forehead, on the right side. I was trying to explain which of us was which that time in Karazhan, and, um…well, the Warchief kind of got impatient and backhanded me. –Dontrag
I’ve got one across my left cheek. It’s just above the line of my beard, so I don’t think you would really notice it unless you were looking for it. I got it when I got those people killed by that yeti in Hillsbrad because I accidentally went out of my way to kill a giant moth, and the Warchief got really mad and belted me. Although the worst part was how he yelled. He got that tone that he gets. –Utvoch
Oh, yeah, I’ve got one on my face, too, right under my left eye, from that time the Warchief— Wait a minute, when you said to name them, did you mean you wanted us to name them name them? In that case, I think I’ll call the one under my eye Al. –Dontrag
I think I’ll name mine Dranosh. It means “Heart of Draenor” in orcish. –Utvoch
Everybody knows that, you idiot. And it’s still not cool to use that name. Anyway, for the one on my forehead, maybe I’ll name that one The Reminder. –Dontrag
I don’t get it. But I love the idea of a name that’s “The” something. I have to remember that if I ever have kids. –Utvoch
What does your desk/workspace look like? Are you neat or messy?
Depends on which of us used it last. I try to keep our desk sort of organized back at the barracks. Donty’s a slob, though. I always end up having to pick up after him. It’s like having a second job half the time. –Utvoch
Depends on which of us used it last. It’s not so much that I’m messy, really – it’s more me being lazy. I don’t care enough to put in the extra effort to put everything in order. And I mean, I would if I had to, but I figured out a long time ago that Ut’s compulsive enough that if I just leave it alone, he’ll do it eventually himself. So, like, it’s not so much that I’m messy as I delegate well. –Dontrag
Do you have any irrational fears?
Other than the Warchief getting a little madder than usual one day and stabbing me? Fire makes me antsy. I always get nervous around fire mages. Or mages casting fireballs in general. I always get this weird creepy feeling like I’m about to get torched. –Dontrag
Owls freak me out. Not even, like, giant ones, either. Although those are even freakier. Just plain old regular owls. The way they stare at you, and plus, when they go “who!”, I always feel like they’re mocking me and Donty. –Utvoch
If you could time travel, where would you go?
Probably old Hillsbrad, since I didn’t get to go last time, just to see what the big deal was. –Dontrag
Maybe back to that time we went back to old Hillsbrad, and let Donty go instead? That whole thing was really confusing, and I think the Warchief got even madder with me than usual, and plus there was that whole thing with the end of the world, which wasn’t a whole lot of fun. –Utvoch
What might your ideal romantic partner be?
I won’t lie. I’ve always had a thing for tauren women. Can’t resist them. (It’s the hooves.) –Utvoch
You are a sick, sick orc, Ut. –Dontrag
Monday mailbag
So yeah, I know I’m just getting this mailbag in under the wire for it to count as Monday, but whatever, it’s hard to get a stable internet connection out here in the fucking swamp. I’m writing from the field as we make our final march into Dustwallow Marsh. I figured I haven’t answered any mail for a while, so it might be good to offer up a few messages from the my loyal Horde minions before we but a roflstomping on the humans.
Let’s see what we’ve got…
Written on a heavy parchment in multicolored inks, the first impression of this letter is one of chaos. Small sketches of Tauren, prairie wolves, swoops, and other sights of Mulgore clutter the margins, at times encroaching on the text itself. The sketches are obviously done quickly, but with moderate skill; the subjects are clearly recognizable even though the drawings are rough and unfinished. In contrast, the words meander across the page, crooked and shaky, with the occasional backwards letter. Many times a word will be started in one color of ink and finished in another, as if the writer got distracted halfway through the word.
Dear Mistr Warcheif Sir,
I have a question, and the nice ork Mistr U told me to write to you and ask. Hes visiting, and hes been reel nice to me. He talks a lot. Sumtimes I cant ask him anything because he talks too much. But he told me to ask you. He said you would kno. I wanted to ask if brown orks taste diffrent than green orks. Do green orks taste like mint? Are brown orks chocklate? Tauren taste like fur. Why are you brown when the other orks are green? Did you eat too much chocklate? Everyone tells me I cant eat too much chocklate, itll make me sick. Did you get sick from chocklate? Mistr U needs to go now, so I have to stop riting and give this to him.
The letter is signed with a large, inky pawprint, a small sketch of a Tauren druid in cat form, and the shaky name “Taktani,” with every letter in a different color ink.
Um…
Hmm…
Well…
<scratches head>
The FUCK is this?
Okay, so I get that the talkative orc this person is talking about is probably Utvoch… I mean, starts with “U” and talks too much, how many of those could there be? And I guess this is good since it confirms D&U must still be alive in the restored timeline after…well…you know. Um…I GUESS that’s a good thing. Not sure what Utvoch is doing in Mulgore rather than Vindication Hold up in Stonetalon, but whatever. I guess being killed in the line of duty earns you a little R&R time.
As for you, Taktani…um, no, brown orcs don’t taste like chocolate, and green orcs don’t taste like mint. Although it IS kind of funny thinking of that, since it would mean, what, Thrall and Aggra are going to have mint chocolate chip babies? Heh. But no, we just taste like….orc. I mean for real, I get enough attention from the ladies as it is, what with me being Warchief and dead sexy and all — last thing I need is for word to start getting around that I taste like chocolate too. Dude, I won’t be able to walk down the fucking STREET.
Anyway, Taktani, thanks for writing just the same. Hopefully you’ve outgrown Tauren Kindergarten-Land in Mulgore, and are off doing some bigger-kid stuff. The Horde can always use more good soldiers, especially on my watch with me looking far and wide for ways to keep the troops busy. Ashenvale’s looking pretty nice this time of year, if I can make a recommendation. Just don’t get too much of the damn night elf glitter in your eyes.
I’m writing’ to ya from one of our ships headin’ down to Theramore! I’m on a boat, mon!
Make sure ya watch it to da end, mon!
–Bob, S.S. Echo Isles
I… he… what the hell IS this, the mailbag of WTF?!
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that this Bob guy managed to dig up a new and creative way to be stupid. Funny, though, I’m pretty sure that’s the song I’ve been hearing Vol’jin humming to himself for most of the trip down. Maybe it’s some kind of a troll thing…
Time is short, in more ways than one. I’m writing this for those of us on the road to Theramore.
The hour of assault approaches. There may be some who doubt why we’re here. Why we’re doing this. Why we must. The reason can be given in one word: Taurajo. A hunters’ camp, not a military target, annihilated by marauding Alliance soldiers. Soldiers, I say? I misspoke: they weren’t soldiers, they were bandits. Bandits supplied, equipped, and brought to Kalimdor through one place and one place only.
That is why Theramore must burn.
That is also why I make what may sound like a peculiar request. When we make the final assault, those of us who aren’t compelled otherwise should wear Thunder Bluff’s colors. Not only will this show our solidarity with our Tauren brothers, it will also remind those cowards why we come. To remind them that Justice neither relents, nor sleeps.
For the Horde! And for Taurajo!
–A Concerned Citizen
Now THAT’S what I’m talking about! Go to it, ACC, lay some truth on them motherfuckers! I’ve got to say, one thing that’s fucking infuriated me on this trip has been seeing how many of our people HAVEN’T on board with me with the post-Taurajo hate. Check this out — I even heard a rumor that Baine was telling people that Taurajo was a legitimate military target, and the human commander at least gave the civilians room to flee, and he wonders if we’ll conduct ourselves as honorably. This is BAINE talking. BAINE. THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT? In what backwards-ass universe am I more pissed off about Camp T than chieftain of the fucking tauren?!
Anyway, I’m definitely encouraging the troops to follow your suggestion, ACC. And on that note, we’re about to spit up the force for the final march. I’ll update again soon…can’t wait to see the looks on the humans’ faces. I’ve got a little surprise planned for them…
Back to Azeroth
Back home in Orgrimmar. It was a long trip, but definitely worth it. Other than the gateway herbage. But the less said about that the better.
I’m mostly going to spend the day getting settled back in and resting some, plus starting to sift through my mail for this week – looks like there’s a fair amount for some reason. Then I can start check on how big a mess Eitrigg and the others made while I was away that I get to clean up now.
One thing that I’ve been thinking about on the trip back though. When Magatha wrote to me a week or so ago, she made a passing reference to Grebo having been helping her “for a price.” That really kind of sticks in my craw, the idea that Grebo was actually working for Magatha back in the day, but it also kind of makes sense the more I think of it. I even got a letter ages ago that was intended for Grebo – dead by that point – thanking him for his work in Stonetalon, and mentioning something about reimbursement, and it was just signed “MGT.” At the time I just figured it was from the management of some business Grebo was working with on the side. Never thought to make the connection MGT = Magatha GrimTotem…
Not to mention, I always wondered why that little pocket of Grimtotem up there in Stonetalon were able to remain such a nuisance, with all the personnel we’ve moved into the area. Hell, I even commented once on how quickly Overlord Cliffwalker managed to crack down on the Grimtotem up there after he replaced Krom’gar. I just thought maybe it was a tauren pride thing. But no, when Cliffwalker took over for Krom’gar, that was the same time that Grebo died too. And Grebo being Krom’gar’s XO, it makes sense he would have had plenty of chances to manipulate things to give Magatha’s people breathing room.
So that little snippet of news helps make sense of a few things. Still, it gnaws at me that he was working for Magatha at all in the first place. Granted Grebo was an asshole to begin with, so in a way it’s kind of a relief that he wasn’t totally on board with us, but still, it’s grating to think Magatha could have gotten one of our officers in her pocket like that. Oh well. Guess it’s just one more reason to turn the torture up to eleven when we finally catch her, right?
[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Not quite Monday, not quite mailbag
(Or, for the math nerds out there, NotQuite(Monday + Mailbag). I don’t really understand what that means. Spazzle said it would go over like gangbusters, though.)
The Grimtotem warrior that Nazgrim was holding in Brackenwall Village was delivered to Orgrimmar. As it turns out, she was a messenger. She had wanted to be brought to Orgrimmar in order to deliver a letter – to me personally.
On a side note, just before she arrived here, some of our soldiers captured a SECOND Grimtotem sneaking around the Dranosh’ar Blockade. This one’s being pretty tight-lipped about what he was doing there, so I’m guessing that one wasn’t another messenger. So I’m not sure what to make of that.
For now, though, it’s that first one that’s the bigger deal, because the message she was delivering…well, here, see for yourself.
Dearest Warchief Hellscream,
I hope this letter finds you well. Actually, let us not put up false pretenses; I don’t at all hope it finds you well, and further, I know that it will not.
Word has reached me of the terrible tragedy you have recently suffered, concerning the loss of your dear mother Lakkara. I believe I have some information concerning her loss that will be of interest to you. Indeed, you may even take some solace in this knowledge – you see, my good Garrosh, you have not truly lost her at all. That would require you to have ever truly had her back.
Allow me to share with you a most curious tale.
After my recent, shall we say, difficulties with many of my Grimtotem kin, I decided to retire temporarily through the Dark Portal to Outland – a remarkable spectacle at first sight, I must say. I do so love what your fellow orcs have done with the place. My handful of followers and I found the region of Nagrand by far the most hospitable – I will thank you for forgoing any obvious remarks concerning the ready availability of grass – and so we took up temporary residence in its outlying territories, near to your Mag’har kin’s Ancestral Grounds.
It was there that a most interesting thing took place. While foraging in the nearby hills, my associates happened upon a small, secluded cave in the mountainside. Inside, they found the body of an orcish woman who appeared to have died some years prior. Ever a student of spiritual custom, I found myself curious as to how the woman had come to be there, and why the Mag’har, usually so diligent in matters of honoring their dead, would have left her remains to go unburied in some remote cave. And so, I and my colleagues undertook some cautious investigations.
I will not trouble you with the details of our methods; suffice to say, in short order, we found to our amazement that we had discovered the remains of Lakkara, mate of the great Grommash Hellscream, last victim of the pernicious red pox that once ravaged the orcs.
Ordinarily, I would be loathe to disturb the fallen ancestors of any people. But, as I am sure you will understand, I am equally loathe to pass up a glowing opportunity.
You may recall, several weeks ago, investigating a Twilight’s Hammer cabal in Hyjal, resulting in some rather troubling visions courtesy of a conveniently placed shadebind totem. In a stroke of good fortune for me, and short-sightedness for you (both of which, I must say, I was rather counting on), you neglected in your rattled state to collect the offending totem. This made it possible for one of my associates to do so shortly thereafter – the totem, by this point, having attuned itself to you, my good Warchief, for purposes of binding to itself a few select spirits intimately linked to your soul. One crucial one in particular.
From there, it was a simple matter to summon forth Lakkara’s spirit and prepare her for her “return.” With the spiritbinding of her dear son to draw upon, and her actual body on hand, the other necessary manipulations were laborious but hardly difficult. A few selective blurrings of memories…the instilling of a few small additional ones…minor tinkering around the edges of the shadow of her mind: all trivial undertakings, really, once the real work of invocation was done. All the more trivial given how readily she took to them – only too happy to imagine that she had watched her son’s growth in life rather than from the beyond.
The entire process she would perceive – with some subtle nudging – as our careful ministration of her illness. (Not entirely an untruth, I might add.) And the fact of her past contagion would ensure that she would not allow anyone close enough to touch her, and thus discover her noncorporeal state.
And so, with that, it was simply a matter of placing a few totems to summon her into sustained phantasmal being and set her on her way to Garadar. Greatmother Geyah was, of course, the real test, but I hardly had any doubts that my Lakkara would pass inspection – my Lakkara was, after all, the real Lakkara. Or what remained of her spirit, more or less.
It was only a matter of time before she would seek out her dear boy.
Of course, your time together would, as you already know, be short-lived. The elder crone giveth, and the elder crone taketh away. In this case, the instrument of her removal would likewise come via shadebind – in this case, your former underling Gerbo, who, you may be surprised to learn, was from time to time of assistance to me in his days in Stonetalon. For a price, of course, but he was, quite frankly, something of a bargain as such matters go. At any rate, given our previous…association, and his own lingering distaste for his former Warchief, he was only too amenable to lending his aid one last time in death.
It takes a ghost to slay a ghost, after all.
You might well ask, at this point, why I would take the trouble to construct so elaborate a charade. Why would I invest such time and effort to conjure up the illusion of Lakkara, only to dispel it once again, all for no apparent, tangible gain.
You might well ask, but I suspect you need not. For illusory though she may have been, to you, dear Garrosh, she was real. And there is no agony quite so sharp as that of rescinded hope, is there, Warchief?
I will admit, my earlier efforts against you in the Bastion of Twilight were misguided. Then, I had sought to take my revenge by killing you. A foolish, short-sighted goal, I realize now. A terrible mistake whose failure, though grating at the time, has proven to be a blessing in disguise.
You see, I no longer have any desire to kill you. I’ve hurt you. And I intend to go on hurting you.
Enjoy your empty nest, dear Warchief. You will hear from me again.
–Magatha Grimtotem
…
Excuse me. I…think I need to step away from the computer for a minute.
…
…
…
Okay.
So.
I know a lot of you have been reading this blog for a while, and you probably already have an idea what to expect at this point. So you’re probably going to be a little surprised here.
See, ordinarily this would be the point where I start yelling, and going into all caps, and screaming bloody murder, and ranting on and on about how brutally I’m going to murder Magatha, and on and on, and filling up a couple paragraphs with how Magatha’s going to die, she’s going to die, oh holy crap she is so. Totally. Going. To die.
I’m not going to do that now.
See how calm I’m staying? Keeping it together, no yelling, not raising my voice even a little.
Want to know why?
You know that level of anger where it’s not burning up inside you, not even because it’s burned itself out – because that would imply it’s run its course and is done with – but because it’s gone so far beyond that burning, fiery, jump-up-and-down, stomp-your-feet kind of angry? That anger where the screaming and venting is just wasted energy, and you’re not going to waste any of that energy that you could save up to erase whoever or whatever it was that pushed you that far? You know that kind of angry?
I am so utterly beyond that right now.
So all I’m going to say is this.
You don’t have to worry about my rage, Magatha. I usually make a pretty big show of using up my rage. But rage is just anger that’s burned up and channeled into something else, expended as quickly as it comes. Rage is nothing. But anger that’s contained, even cultivated? That’s like a wine. It grows deeper, and richer, and ferments into something greater. It grows more potent. It grows creative.
Anger is the mother of invention. And it has an infinite, indelible memory.
So don’t worry about me ranting on and on and how you’re going to die, Magatha. I know it’s what you’re expecting from me, but not this time. That’s a promise.
You’re not going to die, Magatha.
You’re going to beg to.
And when you do, I’m going to be completely, utterly, hideously…calm.
News from two fronts
Everything is going on schedule – maybe better – with the ogres and their move from Brackenwall Village to Alcaz Island. General Nazgrim has gone to Dustwallow Marsh to personally oversee everything, and set up base in Brackenwall with everyone who’ll be going with him on the initial strike on Theramore. The remaining ogres have been moving to Alcaz in small groups, with infantry escorts scouting the terrain around their travel path to make sure they’re not being observed.
One interesting development in the midst of all this: one of the relocation groups have reported that while just making their way out of Brackenwall Village, they had a run-in with a Grimtotem warrior. “Run-in” in the sense that the tauren was making a bee line to Brackenwall, and just happened to run up on the travel party on the way. Either way, she didn’t much care about being intercepted, and only seemed concerned about finding Horde personnel, essentially to turn herself in. When they took her into custody, she insisted she needed to be brought to Orgrimmar. Nazgrim is going to question her in the village and then see about sending her along this way, depending on whether he sees something fishy in the works. We ARE talking about a Grimtotem, after all, but then again, Magatha’s been largely on the outs with her own tribe ever since her last little scheme, so who knows.
Meanwhile, we’ve got news from the investigations in Stonetalon, and the bottom line could be good or not depending on how you want to look at it. Dontrag and Utvoch didn’t have much luck finding a whole lot of anything, other than tripping into one of those huge sludge pools at the Sludgewerks and finding themselves a giant sludge monster that hit them with some kind of sludge breath and sludge sludge sludge if I have to hear either one of them say “sludge” one more time I might have to behead them. Which I’m right on the edge of doing half the time anyway.
Krog, on the other hand, managed to have better luck. He was stealthing around near Farwatcher’s Glen, on the outskirts of their graveyard – where he found our old friend Grebo. Or what was left of him. According to Krog, the body was in pretty bad shape, had obviously been hacked up pretty badly by someone, or probably multiple someones. So safe to say Grebo didn’t meet a good end. Shiny. I only wish I could have been there to have been a part of it. Still, we don’t know WHO did us the favor of offing him, or why they decided to chuck the body off into the bushes to rot.
Still…as much as I’d like to let him KEEP rotting, at this point I’m not leaving anything else to chance. I’m having the body transported to Malaka’jin, where it’ll be burned on a funeral pyre. Normally I would send something like this to Cliffwalker Post, but that’s only going to dredge up painful memories for Overlord Cliffwalker. Odds are he and I would draw even in the Who Hates Grebo More competition, so I figure I’ll spare him having to deal with this one.
Burn well, Grebo. I’m sure, wherever you are now, you already are.
I am become death
If you’ve been paying attention lately, you might have noticed I’ve been having a lot of contact with some of our people down in Brackenwall Village – Krog about the goings-on in Stonetalon, Draz’Zilb about his potential uber-corruption spell. It hasn’t been a coincidence.
No surprise to anyone that I’ve been on a pretty steady boil ever since I realized that Varian and Jaina were in the guild and must have heard me talking about where I was going with my mother last week. I don’t know why I should be shocked by anything these humans do at this point. Thing is, though, Varian I can at least see. I mean, make no mistake, I hate that motherfucker, but at least it makes sense for him to have it in for me as well, and he’s not one to make any pretenses about it. We’ve had bad blood going back to the Violet Citadel, probably further, not to mention he’s a hateful dimwitted warmongering orc-hating bigot, so of course he would grab any opportunity to strike at me. And if an innocent has to die in the process, all the better. It’s Varian. I get it.
But Jaina? THAT sticks in my craw. Let’s even set aside all the joking around and clowning I do on her and all the cracks about her being a slut which granted they’re totally true but not really germane to the conversation right now. But this is the woman who tried to play herself off as Little Miss Peacemaker. Always playing the diplomat, coming off like she’s the level-headed human willing to yank Varian back when he’s being an asshole (which, admittedly, probably kept her pretty busy). Always hiding behind her incomprehensible friendship with Thrall, like that made her better and nobler than the rest of her kind. Like she just wants to be our friend too.
And she was a part of this. Even if she wasn’t taking action herself, she knew. She was there. And all the while she probably kept on wearing her “Oh dear me, why can’t we all work together?” fake smile.
So guess what our first target is going to be.
I’ve been meeting with General Nazgrim to work out the logistics for our first strike on Theramore. We’re planning two waves. The first will be a ground strike launched out of Brackenwall, hitting the main gate of the city with several infantry detachments with artillery support. That initial wave will serve two purposes: one, to break down the city’s outer defenses and allow our troops to make their way inside, and two, to keep Theramore’s defenses focused on the main gate, while the second wave comes in by sea and hits the harbor.
The second wave will be the key one, and deceptively small. We’ll be bringing quite a few ships, but very few troops aside from the actual crews necessary to navigate the vessels. The real purpose of the naval strike will be to hit the harbor, land, and get a single squadron to deliver the real centerpiece of the attack: Draz’Zilb, bearer of the new experimental chain corruption spell.
Remember how I mentioned Draz’Zilb’s spell sounded promising, but needed to be tested until controlled conditions? Well Theramore is going to be our field test. Our troops are going to get Draz’Zilb into the city long enough for him to find a decent-size cluster of humans, cast the spell, and then get back to the harbor while the chain reaction begins. Once the spell is deployed, our incursion group will fire off a signal to let all our troops know it’s underway. At that point, EVERYONE will head to the ships – the ground troops near the front gate can be making their way around the outer walls toward the shore – and then get out of there by sea. Hence bringing so many ships when we didn’t have that many troops in the naval group.
It works out perfectly, really. Theramore makes the ideal test target: a solitary human colony, densely populated but easy enough to isolate. As much as Dustwallow Marsh is swarming with life, it’s mostly spiders, crocolisks…nothing that isn’t expendable. Black dragonkin, the last leftovers of Onyxia’s brood? Good riddance. Yeah, a couple Grimtotem settlements, but do you think I’m going to shed any tears over them? The whole marsh is separated from the rest of Kalimdor by mountains and sea, perfectly enclosed. No spreading of the chain corruption beyond that one zone, however it plays out.
I love when things work out neatly like that.
Nazgrim and I are getting the last details sorted out. I even got a couple of the goblins from the Gob Squad to come in and put together a scale model of Theramore and its environs for us here in the war room, to help plan out troop and ship placement.
The only small wrinkle is the ogres in Brackenwall, seeing as we don’t want to end up wiping them all out with the corruption. Would be kind of rude, what with it being Draz’Zilb’s spell and all. So I’m having most of the ogre population – the ones who won’t be going on the actual attack – relocated temporarily to Alcaz Island. They’ll be safely isolated there until everything blows over, plus we can even use the island as a staging ground for the naval strike.
Preparations are already underway. I’ve had the ogres moving in small numbers for the last couple of days, so we can do it gradually enough not to draw attention. A couple more days and they should be safely situated on the island, and then we’ll be ready to start. And if things go according to plan, pretty soon Sylvanas’ plague will have some competition over on the other continent.
[Header image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks. Click here to see the souped-up Postcard version!]
