Monthly Archives: March 2012
Speaking of EPIC VERSE
So it’s just been brought to my attention that April, in addition to being the cruelest month, is also National Poetry Month. And I realized that it just wouldn’t be right for me to let the month pass without commemorating it somehow, so brace yourself for the big news – AND a call for help from my loyal readers and minions to help make it happen.
So here’s the deal. In honor of National Poetry Month, for the entire month of April, EVERY TUESDAY AND THURSDAY I will post on the blog a brand new original EPIC VERSE! No promises as far as form or length – it might be something long and truly epic, it might be a quick limerick, it might be something in between. But every Tuesday and Thursday in the month of April, I’ll be writing something.
Hold on, though, there’s a catch, because I’m going to need you guys to help make this work. YOUR challenge is to help keep me inspired. What do you mean, Garrosh? EXCELLENT QUESTION, GLAD YOU ASKED. Basically, every poem I post for April will be inspired in some way by YOUR comments here on the blog. Each time I put a poem up, I’ll be inviting all of you to make suggestions for the NEXT poem in your comments – it could be a topic, a theme, a character, a turn of phrase you’d like to see incorporated, something else entirely…ANYTHING you can come up with to get the ol’ poetic gears turning. I’ll pick one of the suggestions from your comments to use as the basis for the next poem. Or…I’ll pick AT LEAST one, because who knows, maybe I’ll get ambitious and try to combine a few of them.
So for the first poem, which I’ll write for this coming Tuesday, I’m going to open up the comments on THIS post for suggestions. Again…you’ve got lots of latitude as far as giving me topics, themes, etc. Get commenting and impress me!
Just to clarify and iterate (NOT “reiterate,” by the way, because “ITERATE” means repeat already, so “REiterate” actually means rerepeat, which is totally a pet peeve of mine because I hate it when people are reredundant), here’s how the process is going to work:
- You comment on this post with suggestions for poem #1.
- I write poem #1, based on one (or more) of the comments on this post.
- You comment on poem #1 with suggestions for poem #2.
- I write poem #2, based on one (or more) of the comments on poem #1.
- You comment on poem #2 with suggestions for poem #3.
- Rinse, repeat, and pray you beat the enrage timer.
So…I’m putting the pressure on myself here, AND putting the pressure on you guys! If I get this going and only get like one half-assed suggestion, well, don’t blame me if I don’t crank out a masterpiece. You know the old saying about making chicken salad out of chicken…something-or-other…or whatever it is because apparently I don’t actually know that old saying. BUT YOU GET MY POINT.
The Awesome League of Awesome
As promised, here’s the result of this latest poll for the newest EPIC VERSE topic. So, with no further ado…BECAUSE YOU DEMANDED IT!
Where to go! What to do!
So much to explore.
Johnny Awesome on the move,
Always seeking more.
He keeps clearing each zone faster,
Tanaris, the last one to go:
Yet another triumph, although
Thousand Needles was disaster.
Now he’s questing with a reputation to restore.
Garrosh really wants him dead,
Really hates that elf.
Put a bounty on his head,
How he’s by himself.
Hold your horses, no complaining
That he screwed up on that last run.
Magatha, she pulled a fast one
Now he’s got few friends remaining.
Just because he freed one traitor from the Twilight Shelf.
Johnny Awesome headed north
Flying through the Barrens.
But as he was setting forth
It became apparent
He had work to do here – rescue!
Some poor undead rogue was dying:
Swarmed by quillboar, he was trying,
But perhaps he merely was new.
Or perhaps dropped on his dead by inattentive parents.
Either way, he needed saving –
Johnny Awesome to the fray!
The undead was smiling, waving,
As the quillboar fled away.
Johnny Awesome: “My work here’s done.”
“HI I’M DUMASS!” “Um, okay.”
“LET’S BE FRIENDS!” “No, go away.”
“OH OKAY! WHERE ARE WE GOING?”
This was when he realized that he’d have a real long day.
“So, Dumass,” J.A. did say
And fought the urge to kill,
“Why the Barrens?” “OH OKAY!
I’M GOING TO TARREN MILL!”
“Wait, Dumass, where did you come from?”
“SILVERPINE AND HILLSBRAD, SIR!”
“Tarren Mill was where you were.”
Blank stare. “Fitting name there, Dum.”
And Dumass just smiled and nodded while his brain stood still.
“Well, I’ll let you travel on,”
Johnny Awesome said.
“OH OKAY! SO WHERE TO, JOHN?”
“…or come with me instead.”
Johnny Awesome sighed so forlorn.
“Well then, let’s head to Winterspring.”
“WOW WE’RE GOING TO KILL THE LICH KING?”
Frosted flake pursues Frostmourne.
“…Let’s just hope that bounty means that soon I will be dead.”
Up to Winterspring they flew,
Seeking thrills and danger.
But Johnny Awesome really knew
That things would just get stranger.
In the mountains, climbing higher,
Till they came upon a cave.
Hiding place of some vile knave?
Monsters? Dragons breathing fire?
Surely there would be rewards from those they would endanger.
When flying upon a frost wyrm
Came someone he’d seen before:
An orc warrior, hardly infirm,
Landing on a node of ore.
“OMG THE LICH KING!” Dumass
Cried out as the orc was mining.
“Where?” the orc cried, “A defining
Triumph shall be mine at last!”
Meanwhile Johnny Awesome palmed his face an instance more.
“Huh, no Lich King?” the orc grumbled,
Staring down this elf naysayer.
“Bet he’s hiding,” next he mumbled.
“I am Orkus – the Kingslayer!”
“Greetings, Orkus—” “HI! I’M DUMASS!”
“I am Johnny Awesome, sir.”
Orkus answered, “I’ll infer
You’re the brains here.” “HI! I’M DUMASS!”
“..Meanwhile I would guess your friend here’s Stupidville’s new mayor.”
Before Johnny Awesome answered,
Skulking out from in the cave
Came a yeti, lone advancer –
No warning or sound he gave.
“It’s attacking!” “Hurry! Kill it!”
“OMG! A DRAGON!” “What?”
No move made the yeti, but
They smelled blood and they would spill it.
Thus the yeti’s early rise might mean an early grave:
Hardly had the yeti woken,
So he found this a surprise.
His defense was scarcely token,
Looking ’round with sleepy eyes.
Just the same, the fight took ages.
None of them could land a blow.
Swinging, missing, tripping, so
To give the details would take pages.
So we’ll TL;DR for the poor yeti’s demise.
Finally the yeti stumbled
In a hulking lifeless heap.
Orkus yelled, “Vile beast! Be humbled!
Yeah, that’s right. Don’t make a peep.”
“Hey, you know, this has me thinking,”
Johnny Awesome said at last.
“We sure kicked that yeti’s ass
(Even granted I’ve been twinking),
If we stayed a team, just think the benefits we’d reap.”
“YAY! I HAVE TWO FRIENDS!” said Dumass.
Not suspecting they might toss ’im.
“As a group,” said Orkus, “en masse,
No more fleeing or playing possum!”
Johnny Awesome nodded, beaming:
“We could take the world by storm!”
“Wipe out every beastly swarm!”
“End all villains’ evil scheming!
Look out, Azeroth, here comes the Awesome League of Awesome!”
“Just one thing,” said Orkus, “Any
Chance you’ve got a healing spec?
I took a few hits there – well, many.”
“Sorry, no.” “Eh, what the heck.
It can wait till we get going
Back to town, and heal up there.”
“Let’s go. Soon, evil beware!”
Johnny Awesome’s pride was glowing.
And the trio gathered up to start their homeward trek.
Off they marched with scarce attention
To a shadow in the sky:
Far beyond their apprehension
What was coming, much less why.
Down upon them swooped a wyvern!
“En garde!” “Fight him off!” “YES SIR!”
Now go get ’im, Mortimer!
Alas, though, he did not discern
Who was who correctly when he landed his bullseye.
“I’ve got aggro!” Orkus bellowed.
But before they could decide
How to help him, he was mangled:
Down he went and there he died.
“It got Orkus! Kill it!” Johnny
Awesome yelled, but not in time.
Mortimer did swiftly climb
Into the air, and then was gone.
And from nowhere, “YAY! WE KILLED THE LICH KING!” Dumass cried.
EPIC VERSE!
Of wyverns and pine cones
Just dropped by the Sanctuary of Malorne on my way around Mount Hyjal and paid a visit to Hamuul Runetotem, who’s overseeing the reforestation efforts there. I brought a few men with me for the trip, including Mokvar, so, y’know, transcript incoming…
GARROSH: Hamuul, I’m glad you’re doing better these days.
HAMUUL: As compared to being burned alive, or as compared to crawling out from under a pile of my friends’ corpses in a mass grave?
GARROSH: Um…yes?
HAMUUL: I’ve been worse.
GARROSH: Uh…yeah. So while I’m here, I wanted to—
Mylune, an overly energetic dryad, scampers in and starts hugging Mortimer frantically. Mortimer appears generally confused but doesn’t put up much of a fight.
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhhhh aren’t you just the cutest thing?! You’re a good wittle wyvern, aren’t you? Yes you are! Yes you are! Ohhhhhhhh you’re so precious!
GARROSH: Um, what’s this?
HAMUUL: That’s Mylune, one of the Guardians. She’s been helping with the recovery up at the Grove of Aessina and here at the Regrowth…
MYLUNE: So furry and handsome and such a good boy! Yes you are! You are! Oh yes you are, Mr. Wyvern…
GARROSH: Is she always like this?
MYLUNE: OOH! Now don’t be like that, Mr. Bitey-Pants, you know Autie Luney just want to wuv you! Like this!
She squeezes her arms around Mortimer extra tight, despite his growing efforts to pull away.
HAMUUL: <long pause> Yes.
GARROSH: Oh.
HAMUUL: Mmhmm.
GARROSH: Well then.
MYLUNE: …with your scruffy-wuffy mane and your handsome coat and – OOH, what big teeth you have, now I told you, Mr. Wyvern…
GARROSH: Look, if you have to drive him bonkers, could you at least just call him by his actual name and not this Mr. Wyvern crap?
MYLUNE: <squeezing Mortimer giddily> Oooooh, what’s his name?
GARROSH: His name is Mortimer, and—
MYLUNE: <holding Mortimer by his face and wiggling it side to side> Oh that’s a funny name, isn’t it Mr. Mortimer? Isn’t it? <nodding Mortimer’s head in her hands> Yes it is! Yes it is!
GARROSH: Can you STOP that? And what the hell’s wrong with his name?
MYLUNE: Ohhh… <eyes go creepily wide> Is he your wyvern, Mr. Warchief?
GARROSH: Yes, why do you—OOF!
In one rapid motion, Mylune releases Mortimer, grabs Garrosh, and clasps him to her bosom, swaying side to side energetically.
MYLUNE: Ohhhh aren’t wyverns just that most wonderful, flappytastical creatures?!
GARROSH: <wriggling around to try to pull away, without much success> THE FUCK is your problem?!
MYLUNE: Such beautiful, wonderful, majestic creatures of the sky! <eyes glistening happily> They’re just so magnificent! And you have one of your very own!
GARROSH: Uh, Mokvar, a little help here?
MOKVAR: Too busy writing, boss.
GARROSH: DAMMIT, MOKVAR!
MYLUNE: <still swaying side to side with Garrosh clasped to her bosom> Oh I wish I had a wyvern friend of my very own! I would hug him and pet him and squeeze him and love him and I would call him George!
GARROSH: The fuck, you’re giving him shit for “Mortimer,” but apparently “George” is—
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhh and I would love him so much! You’re so so lucky to have a wyvern friend of your very very own, Mr. Orc!
Mylune keeps Garrosh pressed against her with one arm while grabbing Mortimer again with the other, and pulls the wyvern to her despite its plaintive yelps.
MYLUNE: The very very bestest of furry flappy friends! It’s just so beautiful!
GARROSH: <finally pulls out of her grip> What. THE FUCK. Is your DAMAGE? And will you STOP squeezing him like that, before you squish his head or something? He’s already kind of skittish from getting beaten as it is!
MYLUNE: <stares at Garrosh with eyes welling up with tears> He…he was beaten?
GARROSH: <exasperated sigh> Yeah, he was, and he was stuck on the long haul from Silithus to Winterspring before I—
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhhh that poor sweet fuzzy growly thing, you mean he’s a rescue wyvern too?!
GARROSH: I… Well so to speak, now that you mention it there were a couple times in Stonetalon and then in Twilight High—GAH!!!
With a sudden, gleeful squeal, Mylune releases Mortimer and grabs Garrosh with both hands, pulling him to her and planting a big, loud kiss on him before hugging him tightly.
MYLUNE: Oh thank you, Mr. Orc! Thank for saving the poor dear sweet beautiful wyvern from harm! So so much! Oh it makes me so happy!
GARROSH: <gasping and spitting> THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, LADY?! And why do you taste like fucking pine cones?!
MYLUNE: <keeps rocking back and forth hugging Garrosh against her> Ohhh silly Mr. Orcie! Doesn’t it just make you feel all warm and gooey inside knowing you’ve made a poor innocent animal safe and happy!
GARROSH: <spits again> Seriously, pine cones! Hell, I’m half surprised you don’t taste like fucking maple syrup!
MYLUNE: Why? Did Jaina say something?
GARROSH: Why would…okay, you know what, I’m not even going to. Fuck it. And… <shoves her away forcefully and steps back> STOP. FUCKING. GRABBING PEOPLE. Fucking hell, Hamuul, how do you put up with this shit?
HAMUUL: <long pause> With copious ale and quiet resignation.
GARROSH: And hey, you’re a druid, right?
HAMUUL: There have been rumors to that effect.
GARROSH: Um…okay. So listen, dude, whatever you do, don’t go into one of your animal forms around this chick, you know?
HAMUUL: I know.
GARROSH: Because seriously, if she—
HAMUUL: No. You don’t understand. I know.
GARROSH: …Ah.
HAMUUL: Mmhmm.
MYLUNE: Oh Hamuul, don’t you be all Mr. Grumpyhooves just because you’re an extra super cuddly kitty cat!
GARROSH: Seriously, shouldn’t you be up in Silvermoon pledging a sorority and dotting your I’s with little hearts or something?
MYLUNE: Oh no, silly Mr. Warchief, I never dot my I’s with hearts!
GARROSH: Why do I get the feeling…
MYLUNE: I wouldn’t want the other poor letters to feel like I don’t love them too!
GARROSH: …Yep.
HAMUUL: It’s been…a slow process here.
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhh look, a woodchuck! Isn’t he the sweetest and pudgiest and woodchuckerest little darling ever?
GARROSH: It’s like if Dontrag and Utvoch had a kid. Made of pink.
HAMUUL: Who?
GARROSH: Count yourself lucky.
MYLUNE: <hugging the woodchuck, who seems none too thrilled about the situation> So furry and cuddly and squirmy and fuzzy and SQUEE!
GARROSH: Hey, listen, Miley or whatever the fuck your name is, did you hear about the fires in Ashenvale?
MYLUNE: What? Fires?
GARROSH: Yeah, there was a huge fire in Ashenvale. All the deer and squirrels and bear cubs and…like…chipmunks with funny hats that you probably have a conniption over, they all fucking BURNED.
MYLUNE: <wide-eyed shock> They…they…
GARROSH: <aside to Runetotem> That oughta shut her up for a while.
HAMUUL: I don’t know if you thought this through.
MYLUNE: The…cute little animals…burned…?
Mylune’s eyes well up with tears, she throws her head back, and she starts to wail despondently. Her near-deafening crying grows louder and higher-pitched, climbing in octaves into a piercing screech. After a few seconds, her voice becomes inaudible, but she continues standing in place, visibly crying. A moment later, wolves begin howling in the distance.
GARROSH: Uh oh.
HAMUUL: As I said.
GARROSH: I…should maybe get going.
HAMUUL: Probably.
GARROSH: Yeah. I think I need to go stab a bunny or something.
HAMUUL: Thanks for making light of things being burned alive, by the way. That was thoughtful.
Awkward.
You know, I’m starting to wonder if I should just stop bringing Mokvar places, because seriously, every time I have him with me it seems like some idiotic shit keeps happening.
I still have more work do to here in Hyjal, but I’m in no mood to deal with it after all that bullshit, so I think I’m just going to go check in at Nordrassil and try to do some writing to relax before I get going again. I still have a new EPIC VERSE to finish up (no, I haven’t forgotten) so hopefully I’ll get that up for you guys pretty quick. Stay tuned.
And fucking hell. Seriously.
“I don’t know what he was complaining about. He tasted like cheap beer and arrested development.”
Old God mop-up duty
Scouting reports have finally come in from around Kalimdor, after the business with the Old Gods’ spawn in Thal’darah Grove last week. The Twilight’s Hammer is definitely weakened and scattered in the aftermath of Deathwing’s defeat, but they’re still out there licking their wounds. As for the Old Gods and their minions themselves, that’s a little tricker. We don’t really know very much about the Old Gods proper – in the late stages of the war with Deathwing we kept hearing references to an Old God named N’Zoth, but we don’t have much idea where he’s hiding, or how many Old Gods are still out there, if any, or where they are.
That’s the thing about the Old Gods – however many of them are left, they’re hidden away somewhere, buried deep in the bowels of the earth or at the bottom of the sea. With the ones we’ve fought so far, C’thun and Yogg-Saron, we actually had a pretty easy time of it, since in both those cases they were contained in one location, and even then it’s hard to tell just how deeply and broadly they’d managed to take root in the surrounding area.
But for the ones still on the loose, it’s a whole other problem. All we really know is that there’s at least one more of them (strictly speaking, there’s probably at least TWO more of them, seeing as how the Twilights keep talking about the Old GODS rather than the Old GOD, or just plain That Dude N’Zoth), and that they’re located, well, DOWN THERE somewhere. Hell, one of them could be tucked away somewhere under Orgrimmar for all we know. I guess the Titans supposedly imprisoned them all underground, although, first of all, Titans, nice job letting the rest of us know where they ARE so we could maybe help keep an eye on them, or at least not go digging around too close and maybe accidentally let them loose delving too greedily and too deep, and second of all, bang-up job keeping the three we know about contained all air-tight like they have been. Hell, one of those three is STILL contained as far as we know, and it hasn’t stopped him (her? it? they? do we need to invent a whole new pronoun for these things?) from stirring up all kinds of trouble with Deathwing and Ragnaros and the Twilights.
And that’s not even getting into their fucking SPAWN, whatever the fuck that even means, like the faceless ones and the tendrils and whatever else. I mean, look at what happened in Dragonblight and you’ll see my point. Apparently these Old Gods have like a zillion of these creepy-ass offspring or minions or whatever the fuck, all burrowing around underground where they can just roll up on Wyrmrest Temple and pop out of the ground with those fucking gigantic living-mouths-with-tentacles, which by the way, what’s even the POINT of keeping the Old Gods “imprisoned” if they can apparently just shit out THOSE things at will and send them wherever they want?
So anyway, yeah. Old Gods suck.
Point being, the Old Gods are the real problem, but they’re also damn hard to pin down, so most of the time the best we can do is try to stay on top of the Twilight cult and hope that keeping them under wraps will help us put a damper on the Old Gods indirectly. Which brings us back to the scouting reports. We’re still seeing some pockets of Twilight activity in a few areas. In particular I’m getting some reports on a remaining enclave up in Mount Hyjal. I may make a trip up there to have a look myself. Not to mention it might be good to check in and get a little face time with Hamuul Runetotem, seeing as I never got around to sending him a “Get Well Soon” card after…well, you know. Although he’s seemed kind of uncomfortable around me ever since the first couple months I was Warchief. Not sure what’s up with that. Anyway, I’ll probably have a chance to talk to him soon.
Monday mailbag
Before I get to the mail, I just wanted to mention the results are in for this latest round of You Choose the Next EPIC VERSE. I’m working on the latest masterpiece now and I’m going to try to have it posted this week, so stay tuned!
Now for the letters. Just a semi-quick mailbag this week, but a couple doozies…
About a month ago A Concerned Citizen wrote in to complain about the mistreatment of a Hippogryph he had received by post. Unfortunately, I don’t think this was an isolated incident — in fact, there may be a serious problem. Last week I received a similar crate in the mail. There were postmarks from at least 20 different places and it must have been in transit for weeks. The crate was emitting a terrible stench, but I braced myself and pryed it open anyway. As I feared, the poor wyvern was long deceased, its corpse in an advanced state of decay. It was the most appalling and enraging thing I have ever had the misfortune to see first hand. I cannot imagine the suffering of that poor creature as it was shunted from one place to another.
I stood stunned for a moment in shock and horror, (and was seriously considering joining DEHTA myself), when suddenly the most amazing thing happened — I felt something nuzzle my hand. I nearly jumped out of my skin! It was then that I realised there WAS something in that crate! A ghostly wyvern stood in the box, so translucent to be nearly invisible. Thing is, despite being incorporeal he can still interact with the physical world to some extent, so he can be petted, confined to a padlock, and even ridden just like a normal wyvern! I’m not sure how this is possible, but I think it might be because the poor beast doesn’t realise he’s dead. (For instance, he still likes me to feed him wyvern chow. He doesn’t actually consume it, but he makes eating motions around it and seems satisfied afterward. To save on gold I found a bunch of kibble-shaped rocks and put those in his dish and he doesn’t seem to have noticed the difference.) It’s taking a while to get used to flying around on a mount that is, for all practical intents and purposes, invisible. However, it sure is fun to watch all the jaws dropping as I fly by!
But the reason I write you, Warchief, is that I don’t think this is an isolated incident. Over the past week I’ve seen other people seemingly flying around without a mount. It’s hard to tell for sure, but I think people all over Azeroth are receiving deceased mounts in the mail. I even think I caught a glimpse of a spectral gryphon flying past me yesterday! I’m not sure what’s going on, but if members of both the Horde and the Alliance are getting dead mounts delivered to them, perhaps there has been a severe breakdown in our postal service worldwide! I know that wyverns have a place in your heart, so I thought you might want to look into this matter and perhaps prevent the further suffering of these noble creatures.
Respectfully yours,
–Kashina.
PS: I’m attaching a photo of my poor deceased wyvern. I hope he shows up well enough on that background.
This…just…wow. I mean I know I was never on particularly good terms with old Antlers McBeardyface, but even for him, this is just…yeah, that’s just sick.
What’s just as bad is that APPARENTLY our old friend Lather-on-us up in DEHTA-land couldn’t be bothered to do anything about this, even after ACC’s original letter last month, but spirits forbid I make a passing reference to browsing in a store for a leather jacket, cause then I get a dozen granola-crunchy druids picketing outside Grommash Hold and starting letter-writing campaigns and throwing buckets of fucking blood at me.
But yeah, enough is enough with this shit. I still can’t figure out how these people got it into their heads that sending mounts in the mail was any kind of good idea, but whatever. It’s time to start cracking down. So for starters, effective immediately, I’m going to start tightening up security in all our wyvern breeding grounds. Overlord Cliffwalker’s been doing a good job clamping down on the Grimtotem up in Stonetalon, so I’ll see about him assigning some more patrols for the wyverns nests there, and I’m pretty sure we can shift some troops over to Highperch in Thousand Needles now that the Twilight’s Hammer isn’t nearly so active down there.
Meanwhile, obviously if we mean business doing something about some brainstorm sending dead wyverns and gryphons C.O.D., I figure we’re going to need a point person to coordinate things. So, consider yourself volunteered, Kashina. I’m appointing you Commissioner of Stop Being a Complete Douche-Tard. Grats. And yes, Antlers, we’re talking to you.
Recently I was doing some errands for the Violet Eye – sweeping ghosts out of the ruins of Karazhan and suchlike – when I killed a big ol’ demon and discovered he had your axe in his pockets. Do you want it back? What’s Prince Malchezaar doing with Gorehowl anyway?
Regards,
–Elder Ciaroscuro (not a Lunar Festival Elder)
Hoo boy. Here we go again.
Yeah, if you could send that back here, Ciaroscuro (and by the way that was a BASTARD to type), that would be great. There’s been some really weird magical bullshit going on with that axe for a while. I’ll try to explain what I can.
So after my father Grom killed Mannoroth, and lost his own life in the process, the explosion that burst out of Mannoroth’s body sent the axe flying and embedded the blade into the nearby rocks. It got flung into the rocks with so much force that even Mr. OMG I’M SO AWESOME LOOK AT ME Thrall apparently couldn’t pull it out, either that or it didn’t even occur to him to look around for it, either then OR when he went back to put up Grom’s memorial, because I can’t think of a third option as to why Thrall would ever FUCKING EVER come back without Grom’s axe.
Some point later, Malchezaar came to Azeroth and turned up in Demon Fall Canyon. None of the other lesser demons there had ever been able to yank to axe out of the rocks, and they generally kept their distance, seeing as having the axe that killed their head honcho right there was probably kind of creepy. But, Malchezaar figured it would be a pretty good trophy for him to pick up for that very reason, and so after some doing he managed to yank it out of the stone. Apparently, by the way, he made a big deal about the fact that he was the one that managed to pull the axe out, and how that was an omen that he was destined for greatness and to be king of the demons and what-have-you, and by the way THAT’S when he started calling himself PRINCE Malchezaar, pretentious fucker.
So anyway, he heads off to Karazhan to take up shop. Only that top level of Karazhan where he hung out was in some weird kind of pocket dimension thingy, like the very top of the tower was poking into someplace called Netherspace, sort of dipping into the Twisted Nether but not quite, or some weird shit like that. I’m not too clear on the nuts and bolts of it. But, point is, it’s this strange little pocket of time and space where…well…time and space don’t quite work the normal way. And that’s where we get into the deal with Gorehowl.
So, Malchezaar had Gorehowl, right? And at some point some Horde adventurers went in there and handed him his ass, and got Gorehowl from his body, and somehow or other it found its way back to Thrall, who gave it to me. So far so good. But every so often, the freaky bizarro zone up there kicks in, and sets off some kind of a time loop. So all of a sudden, Mechazzar is up and kicking again, and he’s got Gorehowl back on him, and what do you know, poof, wherever Gorehowl WAS, it’s not there anymore. Because it got time-loop-reset back up to Prince Fancypants up there in Karazhan.
I once tried to ask Nozdormu how this whole time loopy thing could even be possible, and he rambled on at like 90 miles an hour, and just shrugged and said “wibbly wobbly, timey whimy” and looked at me like I just asked why water was wet. So no help there.
So anyway…yeah. Every so often, the axe goes poof on me, and I end up having to send a group up to Karazhan to get it back again. Which, let me tell you, is a huge pain in the ass. I’m just dreading the day when Malchezaar’s little time loop thingy resets while I’m actually in the MIDDLE of battle somewhere, and have my damn axe vanish on me mid-swing. I have to remember to start bringing a backup, actually.
On a completely separate note, I just got my first application for the new Earth Online guild, <Warchief>. Let’s have a look at our new aspiring member…
Character Name:
£õk†årøgâr
Class and Level:
Stock Broker
Talent Spec (please discuss any unusual talent choices):
0/0/41 Execution/Advisory/Discretionary Was execution but fuck that shit u gots no power and kill nothing. vry misleading name, discertionary do it all
What do you enjoy most about your class?
money money money buy the best toys and other class beg 4 help n buffs
Previous guilds and why you left:
Scum of the Earth, guild leader give his girl all the phat lootz n she like cant play so drama killed that one
Something Wicked, kicked from this one dunno why
High Finance, cant take a fkn joke. long story.
Previous raiding experience:
yes
Any time restrictions that might affect your raid availability:
i haveto be in bed by 11
Um…okay.
Actually, no, not okay.
First of all, I’m going to try not to dwell on the crazy letters in his name, but…yeah. Look, dude, you’re really overestimating how hard I’m willing to work to contact you in-game or send you a guild invite. If I can’t just fucking TYPE your name, then the odds of me sending you a whisper or an invite or whatever drops way, way down. I don’t speak alt-code.
Also…um…
You know what, I’m not even going to try to go through point for point and break down the problems with this guy. Not even the retard leet-speak. Reading it once had made my head hurt enough as it is. So I’m just going to make an executive decision and say, oops, sorry, turns out our raids all START at 11:00, so I guess that rules us out. Good luck in your search…um…Guy Whose Asshat Name I’m Not Even Going to Try to Transliterate.
Krom’gar’s shadows
I still don’t put a lot of stock in superstitious stories about things that go bump in the night. Turns out, there wasn’t some mysterious spooky stuff going on in Thal’darah Grove like the men were talking about with the whole “Krom’gar’s shadow” thing. I knew there had to be something reasonable and real behind it all, and hey, check it out, hold on to your ass for the surprise incoming – Garrosh was right again. I knew there had to be some kind of sensible explanation. Real as ghosts and goblins.
I just wish it was something other than what it was. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
So I went down to the grove yesterday afternoon to have a look around. Took a hell of an effort to get Mortimer to land there at all – I’m not sure if he just remembered the last time he was there and didn’t want to get too close again, or if something else was spooking him. Either way, he put up a fight before we finally managed to land, and even then, he was pretty antsy the whole time there.
The grove is just eerie to walk around in now. I’m not sure if that’s just based on my own memories of the place… It’s probably hard not to be creeped out by a place where you know you damn near got killed. (Then again, if that’s all it is, I’d probably better figure out a way to get over it, otherwise I’m on pace to run out of places where I WON’T feel creeped out. Thal’darah Grove? Check. Ring of Honor? Check. Twilight Highlands? Double check.) I don’t think it’s just me, though. Most of the debris from Krom’gar bomb has been cleared out, but the land still looks scarred from the explosion. Even with the work that’s been done to re-level the soil for replanting, the terrain just looks skewed, almost as it the ground itself is still trying to pull away from the impact point. At the very center of the impact, the ground still looks scorched.
And then there’s the smell. I don’t even know how to describe it, but it hangs in the air. How many months ago now? And you can still smell it. That stink of burning trees and charred flesh and sulfur and a hint of blood. I can’t think of any time ever in my life when a smell was PALPABLE – you can actually FEEL it on its way into your nose.
Most of all, though, the grove is just hauntingly still. I don’t mean quiet, or tranquil, or uneventful even. I mean STILL. Like the whole place was just frozen. Like the land itself decided it couldn’t bear what we’d allowed to happen here, and time decided it wasn’t going on another step. Nothing moves. Nothing makes a sound. Just endless stillness in an empty landscape under dank, ruined air.
Or maybe I’m letting my imagination run away with me. Who knows.
I looked around the grove for I don’t know how long, and didn’t really find anything noteworthy, other than tons and tons of nothing. I saw some of the attempts at construction D&U had mentioned, that had just crumbled apart, and walked through some of the failed attempts at fields. Nothing really telling, just mode fodder for the eerie heap. But I knew “it’s kinda spooky” really wasn’t any kind of an answer, so I just stayed around and kept watching, wandering in circles, looking around until dusk fell.
Then it started making more sense.
As the grove grew darker, I started spotting dark figures moving in the distance. I wasn’t even sure at first how many – it could have just been one weaving in and out of sight, or many, I wasn’t sure. Like I said, I’m not superstitious, but I’ve got to admit I couldn’t help but think of the name the men had given the weirdness here, and wonder if I was about to run into yet another dead Horde officer come back to haunt me. But the shapes I was seeing were much too big to be an orc, even hopped up from shadow-necro-whatchamafuckery, so I pulled myself together pretty quick and starting making double time around the grove to find out what they were. They were huge and lumbering, moving around slowly, actually lurking more than moving, but in the growing darkness I wasn’t able to get a clear look until I was almost on top of them.
Faceless ones. About a dozen or so, skulking around the place.
I don’t have to tell you I’ve already had way, way, WAY more than enough of all this Twilight Old God tentacle-beasty bullshit, so once I knew what I was dealing with I didn’t waste much time putting Gorehowl to work. As I was cutting through the first couple of those ugly fuckers, I started noticing more movement scattered around the grove. I kept making my way around, hunting down the faceless ones, and I was able to pin down the new shapes that were moving – tentacles, sprouting from the ground, budding out of the earth gradually, a few at a time, like some sick mockery of the fields we’d been trying to plant.
At least we know why the soil had turned bad on us, I suppose. And what had gone wrong with construction, too – while I was making my rounds I spotted a few of the tentacles lashing randomly at some of the half-finished scaffolding in the area. It’s really these tentacles that concern me a lot more than the faceless ones. I hacked down as many of them as I could, but who knows how much good it’ll do. It’s like when you have weeds in your garden – you can go around yanking out the stems all night, but who knows how deep the roots go.
I’d gotten reports of an infestation like this at Stonetalon Peak, tendrils sprouting from some sort of Old God spawn…apparently the infestation runs through more of the mountains than we thought. Granted, these particular beasties seem to be pretty small potatoes – the tentacles died fast enough, and even the faceless ones were a lot weaker than others I’ve run across before. Maybe the Old Gods are weakened some after what happened with Deathwing. Maybe not. Hard to say. Either way, though, I don’t much like the look of this, not least of all because if we have more of these tendrilly freakshows cropping up, it’s not much of a stretch to think there might still be some Twilights up to something too.
I’m going to have to send out some more recon teams to check up on this. Old Gods, Twilights, whatever, I don’t want any of them getting a chance to come up for air. Especially that damned cult. I kind of have an axe to grind with them. And by “grind,” I mean “cleave as deep as possible into each and every one of their skulls.”
Back to Stonetalon
Today I paid my first visit to Stonetalon Mountains since…well…you know. I had a brief stopover at Vindication Hold – formerly Kromgar’s fortress – but the main events of the day took place at Cliffwalker Post. Since the last time I was here, the outpost has had some additional fortifications added, especially docking stations for zeppelins and other airships. Between the location of Cliffwalker Post and its natural terrain benefits, I’ve decided to designate it as the main hub for military air operations in Kalimdor.
To that end, the big event of the day was the commissioning of our newest gunship, an improved model in the Agmar’s Hammer line of ships. So we had myself, Overload Cliffwalker, and a few other notables on hand for the christening of – and this was kind of a surprise gift of mine for the overlord – the Masha.
I’ll leave it to you to decide whether they count among the “notables” on hand, but Dontrag and Utvoch were also there for the ceremony. So, you know, fantastic there. Since they finished helping with the whole Cho’gall business a little ways back, they’ve gone back to their posts as part of Overlord Cliffwalker’s forces. I’m not quite sure whether or not Overlord Cliffwalker is especially happy about this. But, that’s where they’ve been, and after the ceremony I ended up stuck talking to them for a while.
I’m not going to copy the whole conversation, first of all because Mokvar wasn’t around to record it, but second and more importantly, they were really on a roll and I’m not sure if the internet has enough bandwidth to cover it all. I mean seriously, those two really need to figure out a way to dial it down a little or I really think there’s a danger that language itself might wear out and fucking break. Anyway.
They told me that the recovery efforts in Stonetalon have been going well, especially since the Grimtotem have more or less been put under wraps. The recovery’s been going well, that is, except for Thal’darah Grove itself – which you’ll probably remember as the druid sanctuary where Krom’gar dropped his giant fucking bomb. Apparently the rebuilding there has been going slowly, as in hardly getting anywhere at all…anything they start to build ends up crumbling apart in pretty short order, or just getting dismantled even though the guards in the area swear nobody could be getting in to sabotage anything…and more troubling, every attempt they’ve been making to plant new vegetation or even basic crops has pretty much failed. It’s like the land doesn’t want to let anything take hold. Some of the men, they tell me, have been calling the whole phenomena “Krom’gar’s shadow,” like the earth is still angry at Krom’gar for what he did there and is just flat out refusing to let anyone else get anything started.
I’m probably going to head down to the grove myself a little later today to have a look at things myself. Personally I don’t put a lot of stock in these kinds of curses and ghost stories, but then again I took intel from the disembodied spirit of a Grimtotem raider and tried to break up a plot to resurrect the dead leader of a cult of tentacle-monster-worshipping crazy people, so y’know, what do I know?
Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain
Hi, everyone. This is Averry, the writer behind the Warchief’s Command Board.
As those of you who’ve read the site’s About page already know, I’ve always made a point never to break character in the blog. I’ve decided to make this one exception, though, to address a recent development that affects the Command Board. This is a one-time thing; I don’t plan on ever posting as myself here again after this.
You probably already know what this is about. During Blizzard’s Mists of Pandaria press tour, it was announced that the final tier of the MoP expansion will be the Siege of Orgrimmar, in which both Alliance and Horde lay siege to the city in order to end the rule of Garrosh Hellscream.
Since news broke about Garrosh being the final boss of the expansion, I’ve gotten a number of comments on Twitter and in e-mails, either wondering how this news will affect the blog, or, more flatteringly, basically saying that blog-Garrosh has had a hand in making them a little less excited about the prospect of being rid of game-Garrosh. Thank you for that – it really feels great to think that people have been enjoying the blog at all, much less that they’ve developed sympathy for – let’s face it – a rather unlikable character as a result of it.
I’m not sure yet what this is going to mean for the blog. There’s still plenty of time to figure that out. The short version, for the short term, is that the blog isn’t going anywhere. I’m already cooking up a fair number of ideas about how I might play this upcoming storyline, but since we still know very little, they’re just possibilities. Once we have more definite information about the MoP story, I’ll start incorporating it into the blog.
The one request I would make is that everyone try as much as possible to keep direct references to the planned MoP developments out of their comments to posts here. (Well, other than this post. Comment away on this one!) Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love seeing your comments and hearing from you. But to a certain extent, talking about the upcoming Siege of Orgrimmar tier here breaks the blog: since I write from Garrosh’s perspective, and the conceit of it all is that Garrosh is an actual person who’s writing about events as they’re actually happening to him, upcoming patches represent events that are out of his frame of reference right now. There’s no way he could respond to comments about them, simply because they wouldn’t make any sense to him. It would be like someone showing up at your work and saying to you, “So how does it feel knowing that two years from now they’re going to fire you for embezzling funds, which by the way you’re not actually going to start doing for another six months or so.” You’d be at a loss to respond to this person, because you’d be too busy calling the nearest insane asylum.
One of the things I enjoy most about the blog is hearing from readers and getting the chance to respond, whether that be through comments or the mailbag posts (yes, “Bob” notwithstanding, the vast majority of the letters really are from actual readers). But when I get comments that basically say “Hey, look what’s going to be happening to you, Garrosh!”, there’s really no way for me to respond, because if you think about it, all Garrosh could respond with would be a blank stare. I mean, a blanker stare.
Rest assured, we’re a long way from seeing the end of Garrosh’s adventures across the internet. I still have plenty of ideas (WTB more time to write them in!), and I’m sure MoP will end up giving me even more great material to play off of.
Thanks once again for reading, friends. Honor go with us all—hang on. Ack, it really is easy to lapse into character sometimes. Sorry.
Be seeing you,
Averry
ADDENDUM (Added 7/26/12) — In light of the Mists of Pandaria release date, I thought I would add one additional note to this post, just to give everyone a heads up – don’t be surprised if there’s a bit of a time delay between new lore developments going live in-game and being acknowledged in-blog. The new storylines of MoP, and the pre-launch events, will definitely be reflected in Garrosh’s posts here, but I’ll be giving myself a little leeway time-wise to play through the new content and process it for post/story ideas. I’m not on the Beta, so other than a few odds and ends that I’ve picked up online, I’ll be getting my first exposure to the new material on launch day. Please don’t send leave angry comments on September 26 when I haven’t started talking about Pandaria yet!
Odds and ends
Nothing too major going on today, so I figured I’d just update on a few random things. I’ll be honest, too, I just haven’t gotten around to looking through the mail yet, so we’re going to hold off on a mailbag for now. I know, I know, don’t worry, I’ll get one posted soon.
Some of you might remember a ways back when this kid Gurtash wrote in to the mailbag and I agreed to let him help out taking care of Mortimer. I haven’t mentioned him since then, but man, the kid’s been hanging around here all the time. He’s a nice enough kid, don’t get me wrong, he’s just always in the neighborhood. Turns out that was kind of handy, since he was able to help take care of Mortimer a lot while I was out of commission a couple months ago (well, until Mortimer flew off, but that’s a whole other story). Anyway, Mortimer seems to have taken a shine to him too, so lately rather than letting him hover around Grommash Hold, I’ve been letting him “walk” Mortimer – by which I mean take him out for a ride on the pretense of getting him his daily exercise. Of course, Gurtash really doesn’t have the foggiest idea about riding, so it’s really more like Mortimer taking HIM for a walk. Which it pretty much is. But like I said, he keeps the kid busy, and he seems happy enough with it.
In other news… There’ve been a good number of votes so far for my next EPIC VERSE – if you haven’t yet, make sure you get your vote in. I’ll give it a few more days before I call an end to the voting and settle on a topic.
Also, it occurred to me that the last few days while I’ve been talking about the guild I’m forming on Earth Online, I forgot to mention the name I’m giving it. In a way, in fact, we’ve got Manageurdeath to thank for this – since he was all “Oh yeah, sure you’re Garrosh, oh yeah, right, uh huh, you’re the Warchief,” guess what we’re calling this guild?
You guessed it.
<Warchief>.
Personally I think that’ll actually look kind of cool over my head, gotta say.
Guild update
So, good news and bad news on the guild front.
On the plus side, turns out Sylvanas plays a little Earth Online, and she isn’t all that invested in her current server, so she’s going to transfer over to Goldwater and join the guild. Kind of funny, between her and Garona, seems like there are a lot more girl gamers than I figured there would be. Girl PLAYERS, that is – every other dude with repression issues is running around with a half-naked female toon.
On the down side, SOMEONE (yes, I’m talking to YOU, Mokvar) let his desire for perks get the better of his judgment, because somehow he decided it was a good idea to send Refer-a-Friend invitations to…wait for it…Dontrag and Utvoch.
Yeah. Fantastic, right?
So I’m wondering, I don’t suppose there’s a way NOT to let someone you know in RL into your guild, is there?
Failing that, is there any acceptable way to put people in your own guild on ignore?
