Monthly Archives: June 2015
The cost of doing business
So, some of you might remember the other day when Lantresor of the Blade wrote to me saying – among other things – that he was coming up to Orgrimmar to see about signing on with the Horde. Seemed like a pretty good deal, what with Lantresor being a major badass by all accounts, plus him being pretty much the head honcho of a clan of ogres. Which, yeah, maybe not the deepest thinkers in the world, but for real, have you seen some of the hired help I’ve already got on staff? I have Dontrag and Utvoch on payroll. I’ve got no business throwing stones.
Anyhow, I got Marogg the infantry chef to whip up a welcoming dinner for Lantresor and his crew, but we kind of overshot a little. See, when Lantresor sent his letter, he mentioned forming a new “Burning Skull” ogre clan, and wanting to sign on… then he said he got that Mogor ogre dude to port “us” to what I’m guessing was Ratchet (where, if epic limericks are to be believed, there once was a goblin from)… and that “we” would arrive in Grommash Hold soon.
And see, that’s great and all. Problem was, “us” and “we” didn’t give me much of an idea of how many people “us” and “we” were, and based on everything else Lantresor was saying, as far as I knew, dude was gonna roll up on Orgrimmar with his whole damn ogre clan. And seriously, have you ever tried feeding a bunch of ogres? Pro tip: don’t. Trust me. I’ve been to Brackenwall Village a bunch of times to see Draz’Zilb. You know why the place always looks so run down? Because motherfuckers don’t have time to fix shit when motherfuckers gotta spend their whole day scraping up enough food to cover their daily requirement of 20,000 calories a head. Including a bunch of dudes who’ve got more than one head.
Anyway, point is, I had some indeterminate-sized ogre contingent rolling on into town, and I knew I was going to have to FEED these stupid assholes, because, you know, I’m not going to be fucking RUDE. (Greatmother didn’t raise no ungracious hosts. My heretofore unboxed ears would not survive.) So I had to have Marogg err on the side of safety and crank out enough grub to feed a small army of ogres. Which… let me tell you, that’s not gonna be a fun line item to see in next month’s budget report. I might have to get some slaughterhouses up and running just to offset the dent this puts in the meat supply. Maybe in the Barrens. Seems like we’ve got some spare real estate out there. Anyhow, I digress.
Bottom line, Marogg pulled in a bunch of culinary personnel to help – I even got our ol’ pal Ji Lunchbox and some of his panda buddies chipping in on this – and managed to whip up enough eats to cover our bases. And so, who shows up?
Lantresor and Mogor.
The end. THAT was the fucking “we.” Lantresor and his double-headed, half-brained plus-fucking-one.
FUCKED OVER ONCE AGAIN BY AMBIGUOUS PRONOUN ANTECEDENTS. SEE? SEE? IMPRECISE GRAMMAR CAN COST A SMALL FORTUNE. STAY IN FUCKING SCHOOL, KIDS.
Um. I mean “fucking school” as in… like… you know… just school. Not school for fucking. Because for one thing, I mean, I get enough hate mail as it is, without advocating THAT certificate program. And for another, not for nothing, but it would be kind of a futile teaching exercise. Either you got it or you don’t. Sorry, nerds.
MOVING ON.
Anyway, point is, we massively overshot there, so, you know, if you happen to be in the Orgrimmar neck of the woods, and you like Kickin’ Chimaerok Chops, well, I’ve got leftovers. Like… a LOT of leftovers. Like make-the-week-after-Pilgrim’s-Bounty-look-like-fucking-NOTHING kind of leftovers. And the faster they get eaten, the sooner I can relieve the frost mages I’ve got on duty round the clock keeping the shit from spoiling. And MAN OH MAN, you can practically HEAR Ji high-tailing it over here with a fork and knife in hand, can’t you?
So where was I? Oh. Yeah. Lantresor.
So yeah, the initial meeting went pretty well. I don’t know if either of us knew what to make of the other at first, but after a little while we started exchanging stories about ways we’ve each messed with Jorin Deadeye, and that broke the ice right quick. We still have some odds and ends to work out, but it looks like Lantresor and his crew are going to come on board, which is only going to help shore up defenses on a bunch of different fronts. Plus, Lantresor apparently knows a handful of blademasters from the old Burning Blade clan who are still hiding out in Outland, and he seems pretty confident he could bring them over as well. So, a lot of potential win going on.
The only awkward part has been how Lantresor kept asking about Shayari. And, um, you know… after Khizzara turned on the warning lights on that one, just to be safe, I made sure Shay was out of town when Lantresor was due to arrive. By… well… sending her off on a shopping trip. Which… seemed like a decent enough idea at the time. Until she got home with a fucking kodo carrying the stuff she bought. Including the kodo. This one’s gonna leave a mark, I can tell.
Meanwhile, Lantresor keeps asking after Shay. I may just have to bite the cannonball and try to get Garona over here.
I’m getting too old for this shit.
More soon.
Divided Loyalties
Since I’ve been back in Orgrimmar, I’ve been kept so busy most days that I’ve hardly had time to stop, catch my breath, and really get back to the normal, mundane business of everyday life. It hasn’t just been the meetings with Garrosh, or the time spent in Ragefire Chasm with Overseer Elaglo or the Cleft of Shadow with Neeru. (Who hasn’t gotten any less coolly unsettling, by the way.) The biggest time sink has been getting my life back together in tangible terms. I suppose most people never need to worry about the practical ramifications of their own deaths, but believe me, when you’re exiled, then declared dead, getting all of that backtracked and your life out of mothballs is a giant pain. Honestly, I used to chuckle at Garrosh getting all irritable over paperwork and triplicate forms. Never again.
In retrospect, it’s a little ironic that Neeru mentioned the other day how unlikely he thought it would be for me to hide the Nether Prism at my house, where someone could break in and steal it. I don’t know if there’s anyplace in Orgrimmar that would have been MORE secure; at that point, my old place was still sealed up under Kor’kron security orders. Any rogue this side of Garona would have had an easier time stealthing into Orgrimmar than breaking into my place. After returning to town, I ended up spending more time cutting through red tape than anything else – getting my house unlocked, my old stuff pulled from storage and returned, my name removed from death records all over the place… Although, honestly, if the tax office wants to go on thinking I’m dead, I probably won’t complain about that one.
Still, all the time I’ve had to spend getting my life back together, combined with all the time spent meeting with the people I’ve needed to, means that until now I haven’t had much time to get caught up with some of the people I’ve wanted to.
JI: Oh… so… are we not having lunch?
SPAZZLE: Uh oh. Here we go…
MOKVAR: Lunch? Well, no, I hadn’t really… Are you hungry?
SPAZZLE: Wow, you really have been away for a long time.
JI: Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.
MOKVAR: Okay. Yeah, sorry, Ji.
JI: It’s just that I suppose I assumed, given the time you said to come over, that we would be having lunch…
MOKVAR: Right. But, no, Ji, I wasn’t thinking lunch. Just that we could sit back and have a few drinks and talk.
JI: Drinks are good!
MOKVAR: Okay, great. So why don’t you guys—
JI: I suppose it’s my mistake. I should have thought to eat earlier.
MOKVAR: Um… would you like me to get you something, Ji?
JI: Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.
MOKVAR: Right. So…
JI: I could swear I smelled something cooking, though.
MOKVAR: Yeah… that’s, um, that’s some clefthoof stew I have simmering for dinner tonight.
SPAZZLE: You realize you’re just digging yourself deeper, right?
JI: Oh, I see… so it’s not ready yet?
MOKVAR: Well… it is, but… I mean, it’s one of those things where it gets better the longer you let it simmer. So I usually let it sit for most of the day, and…
JI: Oh, I’m not picky! It doesn’t have to be perfect.
SPAZZLE: Aaaaaaaand here we go.
MOKVAR: Would… you like some, Ji?
JI: Just a small helping, if you please.
MOKVAR: Um… okay. Why don’t you guys have a seat while I…yeah.
Mokvar retrieves a large pot from the hearth while Spazzle and Ji sit around a circular table.
SPAZZLE: <turning to look at side of his chair> Mokvar, what’s up with these stickers on your stuff?
Mokvar returns and sets a plate on the table before Ji.
MOKVAR: Oh, those? That’s from Kor’kron impoundment.
SPAZZLE: Yikes. How much did they take out of here?
MOKVAR: A lot.
Mokvar scoops a small ladle of stew onto Ji’s plate. Ji leans down to inspect the food a moment, then looks up at Mokvar quizzically.
Is… something wrong?
JI: Well, I did mean a little larger small helping.
MOKVAR: Well maybe it would save time if you just took the whole—
Ji snatches the pot from Mokvar happily.
JI: Thank you, Mokvar!
Ji starts ladling large scoops of stew onto his plate.
MOKVAR: <turning back to Spazzle> Did you want some, too, Spaz?
Ji looks up from the food with an expression of faint concern.
SPAZZLE: No, I’m good.
Ji beams and continues shoveling stew onto his plate.
MOKVAR: Anyway… yeah, they took most of the stuff out of here. Pretty much anything you could carry without needing a second set of hands.
SPAZZLE: Yikes. Your computer, too?
MOKVAR: Oh, man, that was the biggest headache to get back.
SPAZZLE: Did they go through your files? Or could you even tell?
Ji sets down the pot and ties a napkin around his neck.
MOKVAR: I don’t think so. <chuckles> My password lock showed something like five hundred failed attempts to log on.
Ji rubs his paws together, then starts to eat eagerly.
SPAZZLE: Eesh. You know, I’ll bet you anything Malkorok was beating his head against the wall on that one personally.
MOKVAR: Oh no doubt. That’s why I made a point of setting a password he’d never think to try.
SPAZZLE: Oh? What was it?
MOKVAR: “Malkorok.”
SPAZZLE: Ha!
JI: <mouth full of stew> Daff’s fweally thpart, Bokbar.
MOKVAR: Um…thanks. Need any salt, Ji?
JI: <back to eating> Doh tahk yew.
SPAZZLE: That was pretty clever, though. I bet it ticked him off something fierce not being able to crack it.
MOKVAR: I’m half surprised they didn’t bring you in to try to hack in. I’m sure you could have.
SPAZZLE: <shrugs> Who knows. I was probably under suspicion myself by that point. Speaking of which, actually…
Spazzle starts digging through his backpack, then produces a small totem of orcish design.
You gave me this. Back in Everlook. I know you probably don’t need it anymore, or even… well, you know, what with you not being a shaman anymore, but…
Spazzle hands the totem to Mokvar.
I figured it should come back to you either way.
MOKVAR: Thanks.
Mokvar looks at the totem in his hands for a moment, then carries it to the mantle over the hearth and sets it down. Ji looks up at what Mokvar is doing, then turns his attention back to ladling more stew onto his plate.
I don’t figure I’ll have much use for these anymore, yeah. Who knows, though, the way Elaglo and Xorenth are blurring the lines between shamans and warlocks.
SPAZZLE: With the dark shamans, you mean?
MOKVAR: Yeah.
SPAZZLE: What are they doing down there, anyway?
MOKVAR: Mostly working on improving their elemental command spells. They’re pretty much trying to maintain better control of summoned elementals, making it less of an “elements hear my prayer” and more of an “elements do my bidding.”
Mokvar walks back to the table.
SPAZZLE: Like the molten giants at Northwatch.
MOKVAR: Yeah, exactly.
Mokvar looks into the now-empty pot sitting on the table next to Ji, then looks to Ji himself.
All done?
JI: <looks down at his empty plate, then smiles> It was very good, thank you!
MOKVAR: Sure you won’t have any more?
JI: <looks at his plate again, then back up> Is there any more?
MOKVAR: No, there isn’t.
JI: I thought not.
MOKVAR: Yeah. So…
SPAZZLE: For what it’s worth, you’re getting off lighter than I did the last time Ji ate at my place.
MOKVAR: Why? What happened?
JI: Oh bother.
SPAZZLE: He got stuck in the door on his way out.
MOKVAR: You’re…kidding.
JI: It wasn’t my fault!
SPAZZLE: Well it all comes from eating too much.
JI: It all comes from not having front doors big enough!
SPAZZLE: Well, next time, you can host.
JI: I will!
MOKVAR: Well, anyway…
JI: What should I make?
SPAZZLE: Huh?
JI: When you come over.
SPAZZLE: I… we didn’t even really plan it.
JI: Well yes, but I like to plan what I’m cooking in advance!
SPAZZLE: I, um, I’m easy to please.
JI: I might need to go shopping, after all.
SPAZZLE: Really, Ji, you don’t need to make anything special on my account.
MOKVAR: Spaz.
JI: Oh, nonsense. You’re a guest. <thoughtfully> Now, there’s also the Pandaren Noodle Festival to think of…
SPAZZLE: The what?
MOKVAR: Spaz.
JI: Well I wouldn’t want to repeat something being served at the festival and seem lazy, after all…
SPAZZLE: No, really, anything you would make—
JI: You’re sure? I would hate for you to come all that way and not have something you enjoyed.
MOKVAR: Ji, I think what he means is that he’d like to be surprised.
SPAZZLE: Uh…
JI: Oh!
MOKVAR: That’s part of the fun of being a lunch guest…right, Spazzle?
JI: I like surprises!
SPAZZLE: Um… Oh. Yeah! Surprises. Yes sir, nothing more fun than…uh… surprise lunch. Yeah.
JI: Oh, this will be fun. I can try making— oh, oops, I almost spoiled it.
SPAZZLE: No spoilers!
JI: Yes, yes, silly me. I— wait, when are you coming over again?
SPAZZLE: Uh…
MOKVAR: That’s part of the surprise.
JI: <blinks> Oh.
SPAZZLE: Uh, right!
JI: Well I suppose that’s… <tilts head> I should have thought of that. How silly of me.
Mokvar slumps into a chair.
SPAZZLE: So hey, now that you’re working over there with those dark shaman guys, have you been able to find out how Garrosh managed to bring them on board?
MOKVAR: How do you mean?
SPAZZLE: You know, like after he shut them down when they were in Ragefire Chasm before.
JI: They used to be enemies?
SPAZZLE: It was before you got to town, Ji. But yeah. Rumors about them were flying all over the place, but no one ever really got any solid information. All anybody really knows is that we had expeditions going down into Ragefire for a while trying to shut down whatever they were doing.
JI: Oh. So now they’re on our side?
SPAZZLE: Apparently.
MOKVAR: Yeah. About that.
SPAZZLE: Uh oh. It’s never something good when people start like that.
MOKVAR: Yeah.
Mokvar sits quietly for a moment.
SPAZZLE: Oh geez. That bad, huh? What did Garrosh have to offer them to bring them over?
MOKVAR: It’s not that. They were always over.
SPAZZLE: The what you say?
JI: I’m confused.
SPAZZLE: Welcome to Orgrimmar.
MOKVAR: The dark shamans were always Kor’kron operatives. Even in the beginning, when it looked like they were renegades making trouble in RFC. The whole business about them being some rogue shaman group was just a front they were putting up.
SPAZZLE: They— but why?
MOKVAR: Plausible deniability, I guess? In case their dark shamanism angle turned bad? Meanwhile… the expeditions that were sent down there to “clean up” the problem were just… training exercises, pretty much. A way to weed out the weak – on both ends.
SPAZZLE: Wait – so Garrosh knew about this? He planned it?
MOKVAR: Big picture, it was his plan to build a force of dark shamans. How much he knew about the nuts and bolts… I don’t know. I’m guessing at least some of the job of making the trains run on time went to Malkorok, but… I don’t know. I’m still being kept in the dark about a lot of things. I probably know too much as it is. Hell, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this much.
SPAZZLE: Gee, thanks.
MOKVAR: I don’t mean like that. Hell, Spaz, I wouldn’t…
Mokvar trails off, looking back at the extinguished totem on the mantle, then gestures to it as he turns back to Spazzle.
I wouldn’t have left that with you if I didn’t trust you. I just mean I’ve already dragged you into too much trouble as it is. I don’t want you to be stuck keeping more secrets again now.
SPAZZLE: Uh… yeah… About that…
Spazzle looks around uncomfortably, then stares at the floor for a moment.
<quietly> I’ve been talking to Vol’jin.
MOKVAR: You’ve… been…
SPAZZLE: A lot. For a few months now.
MOKVAR: Uh, Spaz, I know you’re a shaman and talk to ancestral spirits and all…
SPAZZLE: Well, in theory.
MOKVAR: Yeah, well, the point is, I didn’t realize that the spirits in question included trolls for you.
SPAZZLE: No, no, they don’t. I don’t mean I’m… Vol’jin’s alive.
MOKVAR: He— wha— how?
SPAZZLE: I actually blogged about this, you know.
MOKVAR: Yeah, sorry, that must have been during that period when I was sort of preoccupied with not being corpsecamped by spectral assassins.
SPAZZLE: Yeah, well. He’s alive. He’s recovering from injuries still in Pandaria, but he’s alive.
MOKVAR: Okay, so… Vol’jin’s alive, Jaina’s a warmonger, Garrosh has a half-draenei kid – what else did I miss? Is Utvoch dating Magatha? Did Alleria and Turalyon finally turn up? Did Grommash actually not drink the blood—
SPAZZLE: Well now you’re getting ridiculous.
MOKVAR: Well who knows at this point? How is Vol’jin alive? He survived the saurok attack after all?
SPAZZLE: It wasn’t a saurok attack. I mean, there were saurok, but… One of the Kor’kron tried to kill Vol’jin. Nearly did. He left him for dead, and Vol’jin’s had his supporters keeping up the lie that he is dead since then.
MOKVAR: Oh fel… And Garrosh…?
SPAZZLE: Doesn’t know. And he can’t find out.
MOKVAR: So… you mean he…?
SPAZZLE: Yeah.
MOKVAR: You’re sure? I don’t know why I’m even surprised, but… you’re sure?
SPAZZLE: The Kor’kron staged a takeover of the Echo Isles right after word of Vol’jin’s death broke.
MOKVAR: Spirits…
SPAZZLE: They had the place under military occupation until Thrall and a few others overthrew them.
MOKVAR: Does Garrosh know about this? I can’t imagine he does, otherwise – and I can’t believe I’m about to say this – I have to figure he would be in a much worse mood these days.
SPAZZLE: No, he doesn’t. Only a few people do.
MOKVAR: But how? I can see the Vol’jin thing being kept quiet, okay, but how could he not have found out about this?
SPAZZLE: There were still a few Kor’kron who trained under Saurfang, who are loyal to Thrall. Captain Gort, a few others… They’ve been reporting to Orgrimmar and maintaining the appearance that the occupation is still going on.
MOKVAR: Spaz… you have to know where this is heading.
SPAZZLE: <nods> I’ve been trying not to think about it.
MOKVAR: So you haven’t told Garrosh… Are you…?
SPAZZLE: <shakes his head> I haven’t been doing anything for them other than keeping quiet. I told Vol’jin before… I won’t work against him and Thrall, but I won’t betray Garrosh, either.
MOKVAR: You know if he finds out about this…
SPAZZLE: I know.
MOKVAR: Especially after… oh, man, Spaz, I’m sorry I dragged you into my whole mess. Both of you.
JI: You didn’t do anything. You’re a friend. You needed help. <shrugs> Anything else is just distraction.
SPAZZLE: Don’t worry about me, Mokvar. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is.
JI: <perking up> Wait, is there another plate?
SPAZZLE: Figuratively, Ji, figuratively…
VOICE: Well, there is…
A whooshing sound is heard, then, in the empty chair next to Mokvar, Deliana unstealths, holding a plate of what appears to be a few leftover bites of stew.
DELIANA: I had to move fast just to get a mouthful for myself before you inhaled it all.
Mokvar eyes a surprised Spazzle and Ji, then shrugs.
MOKVAR: What’s one more layer of compromise at this point, right?
SPAZZLE: Oh…man.
JI: Does Garrosh know she’s—?
MOKVAR: What do you think, Ji?
DELIANA: There aren’t exactly a lot of Alliance-looking types strolling around Orgrimmar unkilled.
JI: Well, that Shayari is a draenei…
DELIANA: Oh, don’t get me started on little miss fancy-hooves.
MOKVAR: You’re just mad because she turned you into a sheep.
DELIANA: Oh, good, annoy your security net. That’s a smart plan.
MOKVAR: I’m just saying.
SPAZZLE: So wait, how long have you been in Orgrimmar?
MOKVAR: Pretty much as long as I have.
DELIANA: I’ve had to sneak in and out a few times, but yeah.
SPAZZLE: What have you been doing?
DELIANA: Mostly giving Mokvar an extra set of eyes that no one knows is there. And some help on stand-by in case something goes bad.
MOKVAR: With everything that’s going on with the shamans, and Neeru, and… hell, I can’t even be sure Malkorok might not still try something at some point.
DELIANA: I can watch his back, and stealth around to check on things. And if nothing else, we know I don’t have anyone I have to answer to.
SPAZZLE: Yeah. You’re lucky that way.
Everyone sits quietly for a moment, looking back and forth between them.
MOKVAR: Well… whatever happens from here on, one way or another, I guess we’re all in it together now.
JI: Weren’t we always?
MOKVAR: You’re a good kid, Ji.
SPAZZLE: So… question is… what side are we on?
Mokvar looks back at Spazzle uneasily, then glances to Deliana. Spazzle exchanges looks with Mokvar and Ji, while Deliana leans forward against the table, drumming her fingers. Ji returns Spazzle’s glance, then turns to Mokvar and Deliana before looking back down at his plate. He considers the last bit of potato for a moment, then nudges the plate away from him and slumps back in his chair.
Mokvar
Monday mailbag
Time to dip back into the ol’ mailbag. Let’s see what we’ve got this time around…
Firstly, I thank you for accepting Grimjaw into the Kor’kron fold, and hope he will serve you well; secondly, my apologies for the depressive content of my letters – it was not my intention to “bring the room down”.
Instead, I will share some good news with you: my son has taken to training as a warrior and will be ready to take his Om’riggor – his rite of passage – next year, and my daughter has taken to learning the shamanic arts. I have high hopes for both of them.
Also, there’s something I think you should hear, Warchief. Another of my wolves – Golmash, I call him, after your grandfather, whose legend is known even to me – has a black pelt and a set of eerie green eyes. And I don’t mean in the dark, slimy green of a swamp so much as a strange, otherworldly glare. I didn’t think anything of it the first time I noticed, but since then I’ve been feeling strangely ill-at-ease whenever he looks at me. I did some research into the nature of these eyes and what I’ve found… is both confusing and disturbing.
On one hand, the eye colour is not unique or unnatural (so far as anyone can tell); on the other hand, only one particular wolf dynasty has ever had them, and rarely so. This dynasty, dubbed “moonwolf”, lived in Shadowmoon Valley until the arrival of the Legion and the corruption of the land that ensued, and the last known scion of this lineage was Skychaser, the companion of Ner’zhul. The fate of the fallen Great Shaman is well-known, but no one knows what happened to his wolf.
I have never had any encounter with that particular lineage, and so far as I can tell, Golmash is strictly of Frostwolf and Nagrandeur descent; thus, the cause of his haunting eyes remains a mystery. How should I proceed from here, Warchief? I am loathe to create a problem where there is none, but something in my gut tells me sinister things are afoot.
Yours faithfully,
–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master
Hey again, Ogunaro. Grimjaw’s gotten settled in over at the Kor’kron stables. I’ve been over to have a look at him, and he IS a pretty fine looking wolf. Like I mentioned last time, I’ve got something in mind for him, but it’s going to be a little bit before I get that going. The timing is kind of up in the air for the time being, but hopefully things will fall into place soon. I’ll keep you updated as things go.
As for this mystery wolf of yours (appreciate the shout-out to Golmash, by the way… well, unless it turns out there’s something seriously fishy going on with him, in which case, gee, thanks for dragging my grandfather into it)… that does sound pretty weird. I can’t say I’ve run into any glowy green-eyed wolves myself, and I’ve ridden more than my share over the years. Still, I don’t want to start running around cooking up crazy stories and conspiracy theories, especially when you sound like you’ve got a good sense of the line this wolf came from. So for right now, what I’d recommend is keeping a close watch on him and maybe keep him apart from your other wolves when you’re not able to monitor them. Is there anything strange about his behavior? How does he get along with the other wolves? Or with you, for that matter? Anything you’ve noticed about him that’s different from most wolves, OTHER than the green eyes?
This is definitely worth monitoring, but I don’t want to start panicking straight away. The Ner’zhul connection is creepy as fuck, but I also don’t put a lot of stock in ghost stories. Unless the ghost in question is one of those bankers down at the Undercity, because funny enough, those dudes actually DO come up with some pretty good stock tips. FYI.
Grats on your kids coming along with their training, by the way. Are they working with anyone in the military trainee program, or has it been individual class training so far? I’ve got a bunch of trainees studying under me, but then you probably already knew that if you read the blog. Your son’s coming up on his om’riggor next year, huh? He must be pretty advanced at this point, in that case. I’m hoping some of mine will be ready for the rite before too long, but right now that’s pretty dependent on…well, a bunch of things. No need to belabor ’em with you. I’m sure you know the drill. Next year would be pretty nice, though.
Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on what’s up with Grimjaw. And the other wolf thing.
It seems serendipity brought me and your little “trainee” together. But I’ll elaborate on that in a moment. First, let me tell you that Boulderfist purchased our computer equipment from a rather enterprising goblin shaman and obtained our Internet as spoils of war from the Shadow Council. How they can be smart enough to create working Internet here on Outland and yet foolish enough to serve the Burning Legion is beyond me, but then there it is. Now about your trainee…
I was naturally curious when several of my ogres came wandering up the hill to me complaining about an outbreak of headaches. As it happens, they had incurred these headaches from being repeatedly smashed in the face (and other places) with a shield by an eager, cheerful little orc girl with a potbelly worthy of a ogre woman (few of them that there are). How fortunate that she isn’t as good at killing ogres as she thinks; I settled for reproaching my men for being stupid enough to let a orcling child knock the stuffing out of them. Some claim the ordeal has left them dumber – but frankly, dear Hellscream, I doubt that very much, and if it has, it hasn’t made that much difference.
At any rate, even allowing for the fact that she didn’t know about our truce, as I discovered when I caught her lurking around the Laughing Skull Ruins watching that brute of a shaman Mogor pounding a group of fledgling Alliance “heroes” into the ground and confronted her, there is a certain principle about truces that has to be upheld – namely, the principle that you don’t attack the people you have a truce with. So when I learned of this Jorin Blackeye or whatever his name was continuing to send adventurers after my ogres, I decided a response was called-for.
We lured him out of Garadar under the pretense of discussing a peace settlement concerning the village of Halaa with the Kurenai Broken, and there I confronted him about his actions. I had hoped to settle things in a reasonable way, but not only did he spout some nonsense about “no forgiveness” and whatnot, he took the time to pass comment about my Burning Blade heritage before he started to walk away. After that… well, it’s very embarassing. He sort of walked right into my blade. Face-first, no less. And my blade brushed against his one good eye. All completely by accident. How very careless of the both of us.
Anyway, given that he was using that eye for no-good purposes, perhaps it is an acceptable casualty. I hear he has not dared show his face in public since then – with an injury like that, I know I wouldn’t – and that his clan are electing a new leader. Hopefully they’ll be more understanding from now on.
By the way, speaking of Mogor, the brute and I have reached an accord: a permanent end to the fighting between our clans and the merging of Boulderfist and Warmaul into a single clan, as it was long ago, under the name Burning Skull (somehow, Laughing Blade just doesn’t have the same ring to it). We’re interested in signing on with your Horde – I admit, I’m curious about meeting another of my own kind, even if she is very different from me, and the contribution I can offer you seems like a fitting gesture.
Mogor has portalled us to a small goblin harbour in the Barrens. We’ll be in Grommash Hold soon to discuss terms.
–Lantresor of the Blade
Okay, you know what? Not going to lie. Not a whole lot registered other than the part about Jorin getting a little what-for. In the face. Jorin Blackeye indeed. Heh. HeheheHAH. HAHAHAHA. Such a dick.
So wait, did you actually get his eye, or JUST graze him, or what? I get that you did some damage, but eyes are tricky territory, and even a little extra flick of the blade one way or the other could… hmm… you know, come to think of it, probably best not to dwell on it. I’ll probably end up hearing through channels soon enough.
So speaking of trainees, you realize that when Mirembe sees your letter, of all the stuff you brought up, all she’s going to notice is the “potbelly” part, right? I can almost hear the letter landing in my inbox now.
Also, eesh, surprise guests. I better have Marogg whip up some food to greet these people with when they get here. I wonder if he still has any of that Darkspear rice sitting around for his jambalaya. Pretty tasty stuff, actually, as long as the rice wasn’t sitting around trollville for too long, in which case you end up getting this weird dizzy feeling if you eat too much of it.
I was perusing this here blog and I noticed the letter you got from Lantresor. Now, readin’ between the lines here I gotta say… it sounds like that is one lonely half-orc-half-draenei dude lookin’ to get all buddy-buddy with the father of the — *looks around nervously and makes a circuit of the room listening for stealthy swoosh sounds* — youngest and most attractive of the only two lady half-orc-half-draenei girls in the world. Which makes me question his motivations, if you hear what I’m sayin’ and know what I mean.
Not that Shayari can’t handle herself or deal with unwanted attention, but… I’m just sayin’…
Also, not for nothin’, but I hear that Lantresor is a huge complainer. An acquaintance of mine worked with him for a while, and all he ever did was whine, whine, whine. “How long are we going to stay here?” And, “I miss the grassy plains of Nagrand!” Oh boo hoo hoo! Drove everyone else bonkers.
Have a good one!
–Khizzara.
Oh, PS: I dropped a buncha flowers off for Gurtash. Wish I could do something more, but as a mage I’d probably only make things worse. And as a goblin, I might uh, make him explode. Kinda counterproductive for the healin’.
Yeah, that Lantresor guy is…
Hang on.
…
<thinks>
…
Oh FUCKING HELL, SERIOUSLY?
I… he… you mean… HOW THE FUCK OLD IS THAT GUY, ANYWAY?
I’m… suddenly feeling a strange craving for dead ogres.
Wait, that would mean giving Jorin the satisfaction. And not for anything, but I refuse to live in a universe where Jorin Blackeye—erm, I mean Deadeye… is validated.
And yet.
Fuck. Rock and a hard place.
HANG ON HANG ON HE’S ON HIS WAY HERE TOO, LIKE SOON AND SHIT.
Dammit. If he’s out cruising for half-orc, half-draenei action… maybe I can pull a bait-and-switch on him? I wonder if Garona’s doing anything this week. I could invite her to attend whatever reception I end up stuck holding for these people and really lay it on thick about how much I’d like her to be there and OH SHIT NEVER MIND THAT’S JUST GOING TO GIVE HER IDEAS.
Fucking hell, this parenting shit isn’t as easy as people make it out to be. UGH.
I apologize for disturbing you, when as your loyal subject it should be my duty to relieve your stresses, not add to them, but I have a delicate question for you. (by the way, could you please appoint us Blood Elves a Regent? I got a rude note from someone calling himself “Bob” saying you had named a Lord Invincible to the post, but I’ve never seen him . . . ?)
Anyhow, I . . . met a girl. Cat. Woman. Druid. Ummm, she’s really really beautiful, and she loves it when I pet her, and she purrs when we take naps in the sunlight, and we love to just stare into each others’ eyes when she’s a cat. Not a small cat, a big black panther. But anyways, I met her as part of trying to research help for my . . . not quite alive condition. She’s with the Cenarion Circle, and I guess they had a grudge against orcs for killing Cenarius, only he’s not dead anymore so that’s ok, I hope. We started spending time together, and slaughtering murlocs, and I found out that when we’re together I can feel my heart beating again. Umm . . . is it ok that she’s a Night Elf? We stay at her cave in Moonglade when I’m not on assignment, so she won’t disturb any members of the Horde.
Hopefully,
–Sintra E’Drien of Silvermoon.
Ps. Shouldn’t Loktar Ogar mean something more like “My Victory, Their Death!”?
I… Hang on, when did this mailbag turn into the fucking Dating Game?
So hold it, Sintra, are you seriously asking me to sign off on you shacking up with a freaking NIGHT ELF? I mean, I already had ENOUGH of a headache just recently dealing with Mokvar’s human chick, and as far as I can gather SHE’S at least his EX-wife, as opposed to whatever the fuck you have going on that’s just in the early magical bloom of insert-your-greeting-card-bullshit-romantic-cliche-here.
And so, on top of the night elf part, she’s a druid, and from the sound of it you spend most of your time together with her in cat form? And you’re still technically dead… and… I don’t even KNOW what the fuck that is, like now you’re just doing the backstroke around a giant cocktail glass loaded up with some spiritsforsaken concoction of bestiality and (reverse?) necrophilia and disloyalty and furry and OMG. I mean the only part of that whole damn part of it that I can sign off on is the whole “slaughtering murlocs” thing, because let’s face it, who’s not down for good wholesome murloc slaughter? Other than the murlocs, I suppose. But who knows, maybe not. I know if I were a murloc, I would fucking hate me.
Hang on, though.
Jog my memory here, Sintra… aren’t you a blood elf chick? Because if so, and she’s… that might…
<thinks>
No. No. Never mind. Sticking with the dead-murloc-lone-highlight position. The end. Turn the page. Ahem.
I’ll be in my bunk.
[Keep those letter coming! Send e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com or use the form below. Next mailbag July 6!]
