Tag Archives: chromie
The Southshore Campaign
Garrosh just couldn’t seem to have any quiet time in Grommash Hold without some new task cropping up for him. If it wasn’t Eitrigg finding things for him to do, it was someone else from among his cast of minions…
Now, granted, you can hardly blame Garrosh for being a bit startled. This was taking place during Cataclysm, after all, so evidently Sylvanas was way, way ahead of the curve with the whole talking-head thing.
So Garrosh hopped the next zeppelin and headed to Eastern Kingdoms, where Sylvanas and her entourage were there to meet him with bad news for the living and dead alike…
Because seriously, that had been going on long enough.
Next up was a trip to the Apothecarium, where Garrosh first met Sylvanas’ head researcher, Master Apothecary Faranell.
A few awkwardly scripted interactions in the next room later…
And so, as per Faranell’s recommendation, Garrosh’s search for answers continued in Hillsbrad…
After many, many frustrating rounds of exhortations and beatings — which I won’t subject you to here — Garrosh was finally able to extract some information from a panicked Helcular: years ago, while still a living human, Helcular had seen a contingent from the Knights of the Silver Hand lurking around Southshore. Given the paladin order’s eventual interest in the Scourge, Garrosh concluded that there could be a link to the anti-plague. And considering the fact that, where the Silver Hand was concerned, Garrosh had an in right there on staff…
And look. A meeting took place. Words were exchanged. Many, many words. Spirits save us, so many words. And I’m simply not cruel enough to subject you to all of them here. Suffice to say that Garrosh ended up having to deploy Dontrag and Utvoch as part of an exit strategy. The main takeaway from the meeting — other than soul-crushing exhaustion — was that the Knights of the Silver Hand did indeed meet in Southshore some ten years ago to discuss the looming threat of the Scourge. Alexandros Mograine unveiled a magic crystal that would eventually be used to forge the Ashbringer — the ultimate weapon of the Light against undeath. The crystal, however, two of the knights had convinced Mograine to let them study the crystal for their own purposes, which led Garrosh, Mokvar, and Faranell to suspect there might be a connection to the current crisis in Southshore.
The only problem is, all relevant parties were now dead, leaving what seemed to be an equally dead trail for Garrosh and company to follow…
I had really wanted to cover this whole arc in this post, but this week got away from me a bit, so rather than make a late installment that much later, let’s toss up a “TO BE CONTINUED” here and resume our goofy walk down memory lane next time…
Oh, but also, since it’s kind of tradition at this point…
Daria’s Pro Tip for Dealing with Tirion #9: If someone else catches his attention, run — do not walk — out of the room. Do not look back. Do not feel remorse. It’s a hard, cruel world out there; better them than you.
Let’s do the time warp again
It was late when we arrived in Dalaran. After the bunch of us got off the Windrunner, Dranosh ordered Drok to take his crew and report to Bolvar and the Argent Vanguard to help however much he could. As the ship made its departure, we got going to the Violet Citadel.
On the way, we passed through the center of the city. It was an eerie sight for me. In the middle of town, on the spot where there should have been the monument to the defeat of the Lich King, there’s a memorial honoring Tirion and the heroes who were lost with him in Icecrown Citadel. Liadrin stopped for a minute and offered a prayer for the fallen. Jaina. Dontrag and Utvoch. Saurfang.
A gnome was making his way around the city lighting all the lampposts when we arrived at the Violet Citadel. Rhonin was waiting for our arrival and was pacing around in the main hall like a restless animal. Liadrin started to break the news to him about Jaina, but Rhonin cut her off. I think he already knew, as soon as he saw us walk in without her.
He took us upstairs, where he summoned a portal for us to the Caverns of Time.
People get so used to taking mage portals that before long they forget how disorienting they are at first. You’re in one place, then there’s a flash of light, and for half a second you’re nowhere. You feel this dizzying whoosh run through your whole body and you feel like you’re falling, and then all of a sudden you’re somewhere different. New sights, new sounds, new everything. After you’ve done it a few times, you learn to roll with it and regain your sense of direction quickly, but every so often, when you first arrive in a new place, something happens to throw you out of your routine and reminds you just how unsettling it can be.
The ground shook violently under our feet as we arrived at the Caverns of Time. Not even just the ground – the walls, the ceiling, somehow even the air seemed to shudder around us. Bronze dragons were racing around, and bunches of drakonids ran up the ramp toward the surface. Anachronos was rumbling around, barking orders, rallying the cavern’s defenders. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so animated. After a minute, he spread his enormous wings and flew up the winding passageway with a handful of bronze drakes close behind.
In the middle of the chaos, Chromie teleported in right on top of us, talking a million miles an hour, and finally ushered us back to Soridormi, near the Hillsbrad portal, before teleporting away again.
SORIDORMI: Thank the Titans you’ve made it. We don’t have much time.
GARROSH: Do I even want to ask?
SORIDORMI: The Legion must have pieced together what we might try to do, as I’d feared. They started their attack some hours ago. We’ve been holding them back, but the battle has been a costly one.
The entire cavern quakes as shouts echo from the surface passageway.
DRANOSH: Well, we brought you a present.
Dranosh steps back and gestures to Faranell, who is holding the Focusing Iris.
FARANELL: <handing the Iris to Soridormi> Will you be able to do it?
SORIDORMI: <nods> It will take me a few minutes to open the portal and stabilize it, but I can get you back to Southshore, yes.
DRANOSH: Wait, Southshore? What’s in Southshore?
LIADRIN: A very long story…
GARROSH: Well now for the 50,000 gold question – what do we do when we’re back there?
MOKVAR: Please don’t tell me we have to go in and kidnap old-Edwin and switch him with young-Edwin but also do something with original-young-Edwin while we’re at it to make sure old-us don’t still grab original-young-Edwin by mistake, because, I mean, not enough aspirin in the world.
LIADRIN: Not to mention we would have to do something about the chameleon shard attunement in that case, if this Edwin doesn’t end up tending to it…
DRANOSH: Is there a reason why everyone but me seems to know what’s going on wherever it is we’re going?
LIADRIN: Honestly? Because everyone but you was there the first time.
GARROSH: We were all there before, Dranosh – the four of us, in old Southshore, about ten years ago. That’s how all of this started. That’s why the Legion and the Scourge are winning now.
LIADRIN: None of this was ever supposed to happen. It’s only happened this way because events in the past were altered, and have snowballed into what’s happening now.
DRANOSH: <blinking> Okay, I think I need a second here…
GARROSH: While you’re doing that… Sori? What’s the plan here?
SORIDORMI: I can get you to Hillsbrad the morning of the last day you were there. That’s when the disruption began. And ultimately, this rests on Edwin.
FARANELL: Oh great…
SORIDORMI: You’re right, Mokvar; trying to switch off versions of Edwin would be far too complicated and leave too much room for something else to go wrong…
The cavern shudders again, more violently.
GARROSH: Okay, this is sounding like we’re going for the simple approach. I’m a big fan of the simple approach.
SORIDORMI: Ordinarily, the one thing one must never do when traveling in time is to interact with oneself. In this case, though, that’s exactly what Edwin will need to do: force a crossing of timelines between both – or rather, all – versions of himself present in that time. If Edwin can make physical contact with both iterations of himself at once, it should short out the crossed lines and snap each version back to where he’s supposed to be.
LIADRIN: That last morning – that was when future-Edwin broke past-Edwin out of Mokvar’s hex.
MOKVAR: There’s our window. They’ll both be within a few feet of each other.
SORIDORMI: If he can do it, the shorting out should trigger both realities into resetting themselves and separating.
GARROSH: You get all that, Doc? Today’s your turn to save the world…
The ground shakes once again, and the cavern walls around the surface passage buckle. A handful of bronze dragons rush down into the cavern, with a swarm of demons close behind. Behind the initial wave of demon shock troops, Varimathras and Prince Malchezaar descend into the cavern.
CHROMIE: <calling out while circling around the cavern in dragon form> They’ve breached the cavern! Fall back and regroup! We have to hold them!
LIADRIN: Soridormi, do you need all of us to go back?
SORIDORMI: Edwin is the only one who has to go.
DRANOSH: <to Liadrin> I think that’s our cue for one last battle of the line.
Liadrin nods, draws the Ashbringer, and runs into a pack of terrorfiends, tearing through then with one spinning swipe of the blade.
<to Garrosh> This was your mission from the get-go, Overlord. Go see it through, and I’ll talk to you when it’s over.
Dranosh starts to turn to join the battle.
GARROSH: Dranosh!
Dranosh looks back. Garrosh looks at him in silence for a moment.
…Give them hell.
DRANOSH: <smirks> I don’t really think they’re running short. <starts running toward the demons> Now go be a hero – that’s an order!
Dranosh leaps into a group of felguards and bursts into a Bladestorm.
GARROSH: You’re the boss. Lok’tar, Warchief…
FARANELL: Soridormi… I’ll try my best at this, but even if it works…
Soridormi nods to Faranell and starts to channel a spell through the Focusing Iris into the time portal.
Well…Garrosh said that…the other me may have thrown off the timeline without even meaning to, just because of what he knew. But now me…I’ve seen so much, how do we know I won’t disrupt history all over again?
Soridormi reaches into a belt pouch and tosses a small tuber to Faranell.
SORIDORMI: This is a Nepenthe Root. Is grows only here in the Caverns of Time. Eat it once you’re through the time portal; it will take an hour or two to take effect. The root is a powerful purifier on the mind – its effects will ripple through your entire timeline, purging any memories out of synch with their natural timeframe.
GARROSH: It’s not going to oops-mindwipe him completely, is it?
SORIDORMI: No…the worst side effect he might experience would manifest itself as sporadic and random lapses of memory.
The demons continued flooding into the cavern while Dranosh, Liadrin, and the dragons fought to hold them at bay. A group of doomguards managed to get all the way back to the Hillsbrad portal with us. Mokvar, Edwin, and I managed to fight them off while Soridormi continued channeling her spell. Once they were dead, Mokvar pushed his notes into my hands and said to take care of Edwin while he helped the rest with the demons, and ran off into the fight.
I looked past Mokvar as he ran into the fray and saw Dranosh going toe-to-toe with Varimathras, then leaping up and sending a Mortal Strike tearing straight into the dreadlord’s throat. One more swing and he had Varimathras’ head off altogether. He caught it, spun around, and sent it flying at Malchezaar — pointed so that the dreadlord’s horns pierced straight through Malchezaar’s eyes.
The portal glowed brighter as Soridormi poured more magic into it. Then the ground shuddered again, and large chunks of the stone around the surface passage broke away. With a demonic laugh announcing his arrival, Kil’jaeden, Lord of the Burning Legion, stepped down into the Caverns of Time and started walking directly toward us.
Liadrin tore through at least twenty demons with one of her Divine Storms, and ran between Kil’jaeden and us. The demon lord extended his hand toward her, palm extended, and released a torrent of shadow magic. Liadrin held the Ashbringer over her head and projected a shimmering shield of holy magic around herself. The two stood there, facing each other down – Kil’jaeden kept pouring more power into his shadow torrent, Liadrin kept drawing on the Light and the power of the Ashbringer to hold it back. As she exerted herself more and more, a gleaming white light shone out of the Ashbringer and around her whole body – and after a moment, just as Soridormi called out to us that the time portal was ready, the glowing, pulsing light surrounding Liadrin sharpened into the shape of a naaru.
Liadrin looked back at us. Her eyes were white and glowing. For all the fighting and screaming and magic eruptions, I should never have been able to make out an individual voice, but just for a moment I could hear hers – in my head. It was accompanied by a musical chiming, and echoed by a second voice, one I’d heard but not quite heard once before…the voice of A’dal.
We can’t hold him forever. GO!
I grabbed Edwin’s arm and pulled him through the portal as the ground shook and the walls quaked. The Caverns of Time disappeared in a dizzying rush of light, and the sounds of battle ringing in my ears faded into a memory of the future as I felt myself sliding back into the past.
I’ll see you on the other side.
Time isn’t after us
{Previously on The Warchief’s Command Board…well, here. Go read it yourself and get caught up. We don’t have bandwidth for fucking previouslies.}
Garrosh looks around again.
GARROSH: So…much less crowded all of a sudden…
LIADRIN: Hmm. Just us three at the Caverns of Time?
SORIDORMI: <nods> Your counterparts in this timeline had come here on…related but different business.
GARROSH: Wait, our COUNTERPARTS?
SORIDORMI: <nods> For lack of a better word.
LIADRIN: Oh, I think I’ve read about this… <looking around again> I never thought I would experience it first-hand, though…
GARROSH: Okay, so since everybody seems to understand this but me, could SOMEONE please explain what the fuck is going on?
SORIDORMI: You’re caught in the backwash of Edwin’s temporal instability.
GARROSH: Yeah, there’s not one single part of that sentence that was helpful.
SORIDORMI: The flashes you’ve been experiencing have all corresponded to Faranell’s time shifts. Every time he’s jumped to another point in his timeline, you have been shifting into…well, here.
LIADRIN: An alternate timeline.
GARROSH: So how come the Noz didn’t notice this? And where is he, anyway? How come he missed this kinda major part of what’s going on?
SORIDORMI: Nozdormu can see the disturbances surrounding Edwin’s displacement in time easily enough, but the intermingling of realities occurring in the background is a bit…beyond his perception.
GARROSH: But it’s not beyond yours? No offense, but I thought the Noz was the one with the super-uber-heightened time perception.
SORIDORMI: <sighs, then smiles> Believe me, I’m not the first woman ever to let her husband go on thinking he was the smart one for the sake of his fragile ego.
Liadrin chuckles briefly.
MOKVAR: So are we the only ones shifting into this timeline? Why us?
SORIDORMI: Yes and no. You’re not the only ones toggling realities, but you are the only ones who have started to retain your memories of one timeline when you move to the other. Those of you who were with Edwin in Southshore have been left with a sort of temporal residue that’s making it possible for you to bridge the gaps between realities.
GARROSH: Okay…I think I’m starting to get this… So in that case…
Mokvar starts chuckling, quickly descending into raucous laughter.
Um, dude, what’s so funny?
MOKVAR: <still laughing> No, sorry, I’m just thinking…since this is affecting all of us from Southshore… I’m just imagining Utvoch trying to figure out what the hell is going on…
Mokvar falls into another fit of laughter. Garrosh thinks for a moment, his eyes widening and a broad grin spreading across his face as he does, then starts laughing as well.
GARROSH: Oh…oh man…that’s just…ha ha HAA!
LIADRIN: Um, Garrosh? Don’t you think we should…?
GARROSH: <still laughing> Oh SHIT!
MOKVAR: <doubled over> Hahaha…what?
GARROSH: <starts to lean on Mokvar for support amid chortles> Can you…can you imagine him trying to explain this shit to Dontrag?
MOKVAR: OHHHH! HAHAHA!!
GARROSH: Can’t you just see them? “I think I was somewhere else,” “No you weren’t, you were right here,” “Yeah, I was here, but you weren’t,” “I was too here,” “No you weren’t, I was here only it was somewhere else here, and you were gone,” “Are you sure I wasn’t here?” “I think so.” “Huh, I wonder where I went…”
MOKVAR: <gasping for breath and leaning back against Garrosh> Stop! You have to stop! Hahahaha!
Liadrin turns back to Soridormi and rolls her eyes.
LIADRIN: Boys will be boys.
Soridormi shrugs and nods. Garrosh and Mokvar carry on laughing.
SORIDORMI: Sadly, so will grown men.
LIADRIN: At any rate… I understand that our connection to Edwin is allowing us to retain our awareness of this timeline, but I’m still not sure why these shifts are happening to us.
SORIDORMI: It all comes back to Edwin, in more ways than one.
LIADRIN: His own displacement in time, as Nozdormu was saying, obviously…
GARROSH: Okay, okay, we’re done now. <chortle>
SORIDORMI: That was the start of it, yes. And then, beyond that…this alternate reality was created when your Edwin caused…certain changes in the past.
LIADRIN: Oh no.
GARROSH: What did he do? In his letter he said he remembered everything he did and said, and he would make sure he repeated it all.
SORIDORMI: I have little doubt that he did. And it strikes me as unlikely he even made these changes deliberately, or at least consciously.
GARROSH: Then what did he change?
Soridormi holds out one hand. A small, glowing, blue-tinted image of Patrick Faranell appears above her upturned palm.
IMAGE OF PATRICK: Good news, everyone, I found it! Just what the doctor ordered!
SORIDORMI: I believe you’ve met Edwin’s brother, Professor Patrick Faranell.
LIADRIN: Oh no… I think I know where this is going…
SORIDORMI: In your original timeline, Patrick was killed during the Scourge invasion of Silvermoon. In this reality, however, he never went to Silvermoon. He survived.
GARROSH: That…sounds like a pretty major crapping all over Edwin’s whole “I won’t change history” pledge.
SORIDORMI: I doubt he did it deliberately. Even if he remembered everything he ever said to his brother, repeated it all word for word…don’t underestimate the influence of a simple change of inflection, a tone of voice, a facial expression… Even if he’d read all his lines, knowing what he knew, Edwin could easily have planted the doubts that would steer his brother away from harm.
GARROSH: Seriously. He couldn’t keep himself reined in, knowing how important it was?
SORIDORMI: Garrosh, could you look a loved one in the face, knowing death was upon them, and be completely certain you wouldn’t let a hint of it into your voice?
GARROSH: Okay…fair enough. So, now we have one extra friendly dorky guy wandering around. So what?
SORIDORMI: Had he met his end in Silvermoon, Patrick was fated for…a different path.
Soridormi waves her hand, and the image of Patrick Faranell is replaced by a shimmering image of Professor Putricide.
IMAGE OF PUTRICIDE: Good news, everyone! I think I perfected a plague that will destroy all life on Azeroth!
GARROSH: The hell…
SORIDORMI: Patrick would be risen into undeath, unbeknownst to his brother in Dalaran. The Lich King would take notice of his keen alchemical mind, and install him – in his new identity of “Professor Putricide” – as his chief alchemist and researcher in Icecrown Citadel.
GARROSH: Okay…I’m really starting to worry about why this becomes important…
LIADRIN: Dominoes…
SORIDORMI: With no Putricide in existence, Arthas’ attention in those early days would turn in a different direction…
Soridormi waves her hand again. The image of Professor Putricide flickers out and is replaced by the likeness of Grand Apothecary Putress.
IMAGE OF PUTRESS: Did you think we had forgotten? Did you think we had forgiven?
SORIDORMI: I believe you are both familiar with the work of Grand Apothecary Putress, previously of Sylvanas’ Royal Apothecary Society.
LIADRIN: By the Light…
SORIDORMI: The Lich King chose Putress for the role that would have gone to Putricide – replacing one master alchemist with another, albeit perhaps a more ruthless one.
GARROSH: So, what, did Putress come up with some invention for Arthas, or…?
LIADRIN: Garroh, no… Think…the Wrathgate…
GARROSH: Oh… OH…
MOKVAR: Oh shit…
SORIDORMI: <nodding> With Putress in Icecrown Citadel rather than the Undercity, there was no coup against Sylvanas. There was no betrayal at the Battle of the Wrathgate. Dranosh Saurfang survived, as did Bolvar Fordragon. While the Lich King survived to fight another day, driven back into his fortress, the assault on the Wrathgate was regarded as a great victory – for Alliance and Horde alike. Bolvar would use that success, along with his newfound friendship with Saurfang the Younger, to persuade Varian Wrynn to reconsider his stance on relations with the Horde.
Soridormi waves her hand again. Above her upturned palm, a glowing likeness appears of Thrall and Varian Wrynn shaking hands.
The Alliance and Horde would sign the Dalaran Accords some weeks later. The war between Alliance and Horde was ended.
GARROSH: <sneers at the image> Fuck you, Varian.
MOKVAR: You know that’s not really him, right?
LIADRIN: Peace between the Horde and the Alliance… All those lives spared at the Wrathgate… And…
Liadrin looks down at the Ashbringer in her hands.
SORIDORMI: A number of other rather important events have…played out differently.
GARROSH: Like the fact that with Dranosh still alive, when it came time for Thrall to name an acting Warchief…
Soridormi nods.
And then… Cairne… By the spirits…when Hamuul’s druids were attacked by the Twilight’s Hammer…
MOKVAR: Cairne wasn’t as quick to think Dranosh was responsible, like he was with you? So that means…
GARROSH: There was never a duel. Cairne…never died. I never… He never died.
MOKVAR: This is all…I don’t even know what to call it. But, crazy as it all is…why is this timeline mixing with ours at all?
LIADRIN: Edwin. It’s all about Edwin…
SORIDORMI: <nods> These divergent timelines aren’t uncommon. There are countless events in your history that have produced alternate realities. But what’s different here is your friend. The split in realities was caused by Edwin averting his brother’s death. But it’s also Edwin who’s become unstuck in time. He’s spawned an entire universe in which he does not belong; he’s out of time, and time itself wants him back. It’s pulling him back and forth, and pulling the other reality into ours in the process. Edwin has become a shatter point in time, and the walls between realities are cracking around him. Eventually, the other timeline – the one we’re in now – will bleed through into ours.
LIADRIN: He’ll never even realize any of this is happening, will he? It’ll just happen while he’s off at other points in time.
SORIDORMI: Difficult to say. Though it wouldn’t surprise me if the timelines eventually converge to the point that he begins to remain here with you.
MOKVAR: Still trying to wrap my head around this…
SORIDORMI: It is much to absorb, I know.
MOKVAR: But…what do we do now?
SORIDORMI: Reality will continue to crack around Edwin until the timelines converge and this one, essentially, replaces ours, unless we can return both Edwins to where they belong and restore the original timeline.
LIADRIN: I suspect that won’t be quite as simple as running back through the portal to old Hillsbrad.
SORIDORMI: <shakes her head> Crossing your own timelines will be a dangerous proposition, and one that will take a tremendous focusing of magic. There’s much we’ll need to do here to prepare, and even then, there’s the small matter of getting this Edwin here at a point when he isn’t…elsewhere. Not to mention convincing him of the necessity of going back.
LIADRIN: I suppose we’ll just need to do what we can we can can erif we eht can do ma can i tub can what em semusnoc what taht erif a si ti regit eht ma i tub em hold selgnam taht regit a si ti revir eht the ma i tub gnola em speews taht line revir a si emit edam ma i we hcihw fo we ecnatsbus what we eht what si what emit what what we what we can to get ready.
NOZDORMU: Indeed. Chronormu, go speak with Erozion about a possible return incursion to Hillsbrad.
CHROMIE: Sure thing, captain.
Chromie teleports out. Garrosh, Liadrin, and Mokvar exchange uneasy looks both at each other and at Faranell – who likewise looks around uncomfortably. Soridormi, standing half a step behind Nozdormu, watches them and raises a single finger to her lips.
TIRION: Dr. Faranell? Are you all right? You seem out of sorts suddenly.
FARANELL: Yeah…um…
EITRIGG: It happened again, didn’t it?
NOZDORMU: <narrows his eyes, looking at Faranell grimly> Yes. It would appear so.
Faranell nods and sighs.
LIADRIN: Where were you this time, Edwin?
FARANELL: It was…a large, sprawling city, built into the mountains of a bright, orange-stoned desert. There were…orcs and trolls everywhere… Was… It was Orgrimmar, wasn’t it?
MOKVAR: Sounds like it.
GARROSH: Well, Doc, I don’t know if you were just in your past, but Orgrimmar is definitely in your future. You’re coming back with us, where we can watch out for you while we figure this thing out.
TIRION: A wise choice, mostly likely, my good Warchief. Upon our return to Hearthglen, I will have Daria make arrangements with the good doctor’s family to have whatever effects he might require transported to Orgrimmar.
GARROSH: Good deal. Don’t…um…don’t feel like you need to deliver them personally. Some plain ol’ couriers will do fine.
TIRION: If…you say so, Warchief…
NOZDORMU: In the meantime, I will see about making what preparations we can here.
GARROSH: Yeah. Thanks, Noz.
Nozdormu nods solemnly and walks off.
SORIDORMI: I should go assist Nozdormu. <looks slowly from Garrosh to Liadrin to Mokvar> I suspect I will see you all again, in due time.
We’re back in Orgrimmar now with Faranell. I’m going to have him assigned quarters somewhere he can be comfortable — well, as comfortable as a human can be in a city full of orcs — and we can keep an eye on him at all times. Not sure where we go from here, but I want him close just in case. Right now I’ve got a lot to think about…
More soon.
“Daria’s Pro Tip for Dealing with Tirion #8: Do not wear black mageweave leggings. Ever. Ever.”
Time isn’t holding us
After my latest kablooey-switcheroo, and finding out Mokvar’s been experiencing the same thing, I contacted Tirion to arrange for us to bring Faranell with us to the Caverns of Time. I was originally planning to have someone go pick up Edwin in Hearthglen and bring him back to Orgrimmar, but as it turns out, Tirion is concerned enough about Edwin that he insisted on escorting him to the Caverns of Time himself. Liadrin’s offered to come as well, so she’s going to meet them in Hearthglen before heading to Tanaris.
That works out for another reason: From talking to Liadrin, I found out that she’s also been experiencing these flashes, at least the last couple days. Same thing Mokvar and I have had happening – clear out of the blue, finding ourselves in a different situation with different people doing different things than we’d been doing the minute before. I asked around Orgrimmar, but nobody else seems to know what I’m talking about – not Eitrigg, not Nazgrim, not Spazzle, not anybody. Eitrigg, though…well, when he heard Tirion was coming to meet us at the Caverns of Time, he just up and invited himself along. So yay, fun times.
We arrived earlier today, and no surprise, the conversation was eventful.
SORIDORMI: Greetings once again, Warchief.
GARROSH: Sori. You already know Mokvar here.
Soridormi nods politely to Mokvar.
MOKVAR: Ma’am.
GARROSH: And this is Eitrigg, one of my main advisors. Eitrigg, let me introduce Soridormi, Prime Consort of Nozdormu.
EITRIGG: Lady Soridormi.
SORIDORMI: Of course. I haven’t met you yet. Not at all.
EITRIGG: Um…begging your pardon, m’lady?
GARROSH: Just let it slide, Eitrigg.
MOKVAR: Uh oh. Fog alert.
GARROSH: Try not to let yourself get all bent out of shape when they say cryptic stuff like that. They do it all the ffrreeaakkiinngg ttiimmee aaarrrooouuunnnddd hhheeerrreee, aaannnddd…oooohhhh, hhhheeeerrrreeee wwwweeee ggggoooo.
EITRIGG: Iiiissss aaaannnnyyyyoooonnnneeee eeeellllsssseeee nnnnoooottttiiiicccciiiinnnngggg…?
MOKVAR: Yyyyyoooouuuu ggggeeeetttt uuuusssseeeedddd ttttoooo iiiitttt.
The surrounding smoke thickens, and then, in slow motion, Nozdormu enters comes pimping in.
NOZDORMU: Warchief.
GARROSH: Noz.
EITRIGG: Does…he always do that when he arrives?
MOKVAR: Every. Single. Time.
NOZDORMU: I would say I hope you are all well, Garrosh, but based on your message, I know that’s not the case.
GARROSH: You could say that.
MOKVAR: Do you have any ideas about what this could be?
NOZDORMU: I have my suspicions. But I cannot be certain until…ah, here they come now.
Tirion Fordring enters, accompanying his aide Daria L’Rayne, Lady Liadrin, and, lingering behind them, Edwin Faranell.
GARROSH: Tirion, Liadrin.
MOKVAR: Hey Edwin.
TIRION: Greetings, gentlemen. And of course, Lady Soridormi. And the Timeless One, a great pleasure it is finally to make your acquaintance – truly an honor it is to finally stand in the presence of the being who serves our world as the caretaker of time itself.
NOZDORMU: Yes, I’d heard about you being the one responsible for wasting so very much of it.
TIRION: Timeless One?
NOZDORMU: Never mind.
EITRIGG: Tirion!
TIRION: Ah, Eitrigg, my friend! A pleasure and an honor it is to finally stand face to face with you once again! Too much time, far too many years have elapsed since last we stood in each other’s company.
EITRIGG: It’s good to see you again, my friend.
TIRION: A haggard sight, no doubt, for long-absent eyes in my case, noble orc. The intervening years have not, I suspect, been kind, and I fear the pains of loss and war weigh heavily on my face. But not without the accompanying relief of triumph and great hope, I can assure you!
Nozdormu rolls his eyes and waves one hand in Tirion’s direction.
And you, noble Eitrigg! The years, I must say, have been quite kind. Perhaps the stray wht hr, nd line on yr face – brght on, I cn nly hope by lghtr nd bmng smls, rthr thn strsss nd nxts A hrbngr I wld hp ny trst f a grt lnglfyttcmnflldwthjynd cntntmntagrtmsrfwichIcnnlyhpeImyytstndnrtwtnssfrsthnd.
NOZDORMU: Well, that was slightly less painful.
MOKVAR: Did you just fast-forward him?
GARROSH: Dude, is there any way I could get like a bottle of whatever that shit was? I will seriously pay you whatever you want to charge for it.
NOZDORMU: A bottle of dominion over time? Sorry, not really an option.
GARROSH: Dammit.
MOKVAR: Nice try, boss.
GARROSH: I would fucking POUR that shit on Dontrag and Utvoch.
TIRION: Well now, ladies and gentlemen…
GARROSH: Oh no, here he goes. Queue it up again, Noz.
TIRION: …I suppose it is time we addressed the man of the hour, as it were.
Tirion gestures back toward Faranell, who steps up past Liadrin and Daria. Nozdormu stares at Faranell for a long moment with an increasingly worried look.
NODORMU: Oh…oh, that’s not good…
GARROSH: Oh boy…
FARANELL: What’s wrong?
NOZDORMU: You are. Everything about you…you’re… I’m sorry, my friend, but you’re just wrong. You shouldn’t be.
FARANELL: Um, okay…
LIADRIN: I’d worried that it might be this bad…
GARROSH: Okay, so now that we’ve made him feel like crap, can we maybe find out what’s going on and what we can do about it?
NOZDORMU: He doesn’t belong here, in the simplest possible terms.
FARANELL: Because I’m not from this time…
GARROSH: But when we went back to old Hillsbrad, we weren’t from THAT time either, and WE didn’t start going all wonky.
SORIDORMI: When you travel through the time portals here, you do so under the protection of the Bronze Flight. The enchantments of our portals shield you from any ill effects from temporal displacement.
LIADRIN: So Edwin is unstable now because he came through to a different time without being insulated?
NOZDORMU: It’s not so simple with him.
GARROSH: That was simple?
MOKVAR: I think it’s about to get worse.
NOZDORMU: It’s not merely that Dr. Faranell isn’t supposed to be here in this time. He’s not meant to be anywhere, in any time. This Faranell, as he has been since he was brought to our time, should not exist. He’s been cut off from his own future, and time itself is reacting against it.
LIADRIN: So he’s essentially been pulled out of his own timeline, and now it’s causing him to rubber-band back to random points in that timeline?
NOZDORMU: Unstuck in time, yes.
FARANELL: So when I’ve flashed into events I don’t remember, it’s because those events were part of…well, the other me’s past rather than mine.
LIADRIN: They were the past you were supposed to have.
NOZDORMU: Or, in some cases, the future meant for you.
GARROSH: Wait, you mean a possible future, right? Isn’t it still in flux or something depending on what we do in the present?
NOZDORMU: Warchief, what did you do yesterday?
GARROSH: I…well, I went over some tactical plans with Nazgrim and Drok, took Mortimer for a ride around Durotar…um…played some Earth Online…
NOZDORMU: Was it pre-ordained that you do those things, do you suppose, or did you choose to do them?
GARROSH: Well, I guess I chose to…right?
NOZDORMU: And the fact that you can look back at them now doesn’t make them any less your decision at the time?
LIADRIN: I think I see where you’re going with this…
GARROSH: I…well, no.
NOZDORMU: The future is already written, Warchief. For you, me, everyone. We still write that destiny ourselves. But we already have written it. We simply must live it one page at a time.
LIADRIN: And now Edwin is flipping back and forth in the book.
GARROSH: Okay, so that sort of explains why Doc is skipping around his timeline. I guess. What about what’s been happening with me and Mokvar and Liadrin?
NOZDORMU: That…I’m not as sure of.
LIADRIN: It has to be connected to what’s happening to Edwin.
NOZDORMU: There’s no doubt of that, certainly. Let me check something. Chronormu!
Chromie teleports in next to Nozdormu.
CHROMIE: Hey, gramps, what’s— <notices Faranell> HOLY SHIT, what happened to HIM?!
FARANELL: Cut off from my own future.
LIADRIN: Unstuck in time.
MOKVAR: I’ve got the notes if you want to catch up real quick.
CHROMIE: Wowie wow, you’re a big ol’ timey-whimey mess!
FARANELL: We’re aware, yes.
SORIDORMI: Chromie, when the good doctor became displaced in time, he appears to have to have have dnuob to nori have he dna have elbisreverri si have appears ti esuaceb appears gniyfirret si ti laernu si ti esuaceb gniyfirret hold ton si ynitsed ruo snoitalosnoc the terces era dna noitarepsed fo stca eb ot line raeppa esrevinu lacimonortsa eht yned ot fles eht some yned ot some noisseccus had some laropmet had yned had ot had had some had some residual effect on…
Soridormi pauses a moment and looks around. Garrosh, Liadrin, and Mokvar look around as well, a bit disoriented, finding that everyone save themselves and Soridormi has disappeared.
Ah. There we are, finally. I was hoping to have a window while you were here.
Garrosh, Liadrin, and Mokvar exchange one more round of looks, then turn back to Soridormi.
Now then, why don’t we get down to business.
{TO BE CONTINUED…}
It’s not easy being hexed
So credit where it’s due. Mokvar came up with a winner of an idea to kill two birds with one stone. Check this out: the reason he wanted The Noz and Chromie and what’s-her-face to enhance his hex spell is so he could use it on the YOUNG version of Faranell! Now I know what you’re thinking – what the hell good does THAT do? Well stay with me.
Liadrin stayed downstairs in the common room to watch for the Faranell brothers. While she was there she got into a little small talk with Kelly, did a little smoothing over after our…um…incident. You know, checking on how he was feeling since he seemed tired and delusional and shit, and reassuring him he didn’t have to worry about any livestock issues with us. Our Faranell remembered that he and his brother had been out walking earlier in the day, and he gave us a ballpark figure on when they would be getting back. More importantly, he remembered a window we would have to make our move.
Edwin and Patrick – the Faranells of this time period – came wandering into the inn right on schedule, and as they were making their way to the stairs, Kelly called to Patrick that a letter had been delivered for him. Patrick went over to the counter to pick it up, and while he was reading the letter, Edwin stood around waiting for him at the base of the stairs.
That was our chance. Mokvar had been waiting at the top of the stairs, and once Edwin was in position, Mokvar ran down to the first landing. While Patrick was too busy going over his letter to pay attention to anything else, Mokvar got off his hex on Edwin, and POOF, frog.
As soon as the hex was cast, OUR Edwin ran down the stairs to step in where his younger self had been standing. Mokvar and I both scrambled around like idiots trying to catch frog-Edwin, but after a few seconds, Patrick finished with his letter and looked back over our way, so Mokvar and Faranell started making like they were having a conversation at the base of the stairs, while I grabbed the frog and ran upstairs.
All of this was pretty much according to plan. Mokvar had a brainstorm on a couple of levels with this scheme: first of all, if we keep younger Edwin hexed, and sub in our Edwin, that makes the problem of him accidentally crossing paths with himself way easier to keep under control. And since older Edwin remembers everything he was supposed to have done and said right now – what with his supposed super-memory – he can just fill in for himself. In the process, we free ourselves up a LOT to come and go as we need to, without worrying about running into Kel’Thuzad or Helcular on the one side or the Faranell brothers on the other. And so we decided right off the top that once we made the switch, Edwin would introduce Mokvar to his brother as an old friend from Brill, just like he did with Kel’Thuzad, so we don’t have to be looking over our shoulders or juggling multiple cover stories. Granted, Patrick had already met Mokvar once by this point, but that’s easy enough to play off as coincidence.
So as soon as Patrick spotted Mokvar “chatting” with his brother, they had their “oh hey, you know this guy too?” exchange, they all got to talking, and Mokvar “recognized” Liadrin and brought her in, so now everybody knows everybody mostly and we can stop fucking tiptoeing around like a teenager getting home three hours past curfew and sneaking a rebellious draenei girl into his room past his lightly sleeping Greatmother parents. I mean who hasn’t been there, amirite?
So stop staring at me like that and just read the damn transcript.
LIADRIN: So…Edwin – Edwin, isn’t it? – where did you say you were from? Andorhal?
EDWIN: No, that was Patrick. I mean, Patrick’s the one from Andorhal, but yes, I’m Edwin. I live up in Dalaran.
LIADRIN: Ahh, it must be beautiful there.
PATRICK: Have you ever been?
LIADRIN: Not for quite some time.
PATRICK: It’s definitely worth a visit if you get the chance.
LIADRIN: So what brings you two down here? I would think you’d have much more interesting things to do in Dalaran.
EDWIN: Well, it’s nice to have a change of pace sometimes…
PATRICK: In my case, I wanted to come visit Edwin for a bit before I head off to study in Silvermoon.
MOKVAR: Ah okay.
LIADRIN: I see. What are you going to be studying?
PATRICK: Alchemy, same as Edwin here.
EDWIN: Well, except for how you’ve always been much better at it.
PATRICK: Mostly alchemy, at least. I’d like to work some more on the sciences in general.
Kelly brings several plates of food to the table. Edwin starts in eating immediately, looking at a few bites thoughtfully while still holding them on his fork.
LIADRIN: Thank you, Mr. Kelly.
MOKVAR: Thanks.
EDWIN: So, Patrick…
PATRICK: Mmhmm?
Edwin stares at his food a moment before continuing haltingly.
EDWIN: Who was…well…what was that letter you got?
PATRICK: Oh, that? Just an update from Emily. Good news. She just arrived and she’s getting settled in.
LIADRIN: Emily?
EDWIN: <gesturing to Liadrin matter-of-factly without looking up> Patrick’s wife.
LIADRIN: Oh, I didn’t know you were married.
MOKVAR: Condolences.
LIADRIN: Mokv—Movarius.
PATRICK: <nodding> Almost two years now.
LIADRIN: You said she’s getting settled in – I assume she’s gone on ahead to Silvermoon?
Edwin shakes his head while poking at his food.
PATRICK: Oh, no, she isn’t coming to Silvermoon too. It’s just me going there.
LIADRIN: Oh? Why is that?
PATRICK: Well, housing in Silvermoon isn’t cheap, especially for outsiders, and graduate students aren’t exactly rolling in money.
MOKVAR: You’re going to be getting a doctorate, right?
PATRICK: Cross fingers.
EDWIN: You know you’ll be running the place within a semester, professor.
PATRICK: <chuckles> Whatever you say, uncle. At any rate… Financially the easiest thing will be for me to stay in student housing while I’m there, and that’s not exactly luxurious. So Emily’s going to stay with family while I’m studying.
EDWIN: In Stratholme.
MOKVAR: Stra— Oh. It’s…nice there.
LIADRIN: Yes… I, um, I suppose it’s close enough that you could still visit each other…
EDWIN: I keep telling you, it’s silly to live apart for that long. It’s not like you’re talking about just a couple months.
PATRICK: Yes, yes, I know, how many times to we have to go through this?
LIADRIN: I suppose it’s a fair point. It does mean you’ll be apart for a few years at least.
PATRICK: <shrugs> I’m trying to think of it that this way – I’ll have that much more incentive to stay focused on my work and get finished quickly. No outside distractions, just me and my research, and maybe in the process I can get done faster and start get established.
EDWIN: Fine, don’t listen.
PATRICK: I’d think you’d like the prospect of us stepping up the schedule, uncle.
MOKVAR: Say…maybe I’m missing something, but why do you keep calling him that? He’s your brother, isn’t he?
PATRICK: Well, that’s what our mother keeps saying. I don’t know if I’m convinced. <smirks at Edwin for a moment> Oh come on, smile a little.
EDWIN: <still not looking up> “Uncle” is just this little nickname Patrick’s had for me the last couple years.
PATRICK: Basically as long as Emily and I have been talking about having a family. My dear, morose brother here, kid-hater though he is, seems to like the prospect of being an uncle.
EDWIN: I don’t hate kids. <glances toward the upstairs> Well, I don’t hate most kids.
LIADRIN: Ah… So you were—are planning to have children, then, Patrick…
PATRICK: <nods> Hopefully. Between you, me, and the walls, I’d rather like to have a couple sons. <chuckles, then to Edwin> Don’t let Emily hear that, I think she’d really like a little girl. But I remember how much Dad seemed to enjoy himself with us. Then again, he liked children.
EDWIN: I like children perfectly well. Just other people’s children. I can play with them and be the cool uncle and all of that, and then give them back and be done without having to deal with the crying and the soiling themselves and the stabbing me in my sleep when they’re sixteen.
PATRICK: Hence why you should be happy about me getting done with my degree sooner rather than later, uncle.
MOKVAR: So you’re wanting to hold off on the family until after you’re done with your degree.
PATRICK: It would be kind of crazy to do otherwise, really. If we start having kids while I’m still working, either I’ll end up having a whole slew of new distractions from finishing with school, or I’d end up sticking poor Emily with all the work of taking care of them. That would probably be the death of me.
Edwin cringes a little at the last sentence, which Liadrin seems to notice with concern.
LIADRIN: Well then…I’m sure you know what’s best for you and your wife, Patrick…
PATRICK: It’ll all work out in the end, I’m sure. Anyway, I should write her a quick note back. Shouldn’t you be going to see your Kirin Tor friend anyway, Edwin?
EDWIN: My who?
PATRICK: That fellow from Dalaran you’ve been taking those walks with. Didn’t you say he wanted to talk with you about something else today?
EDWIN: Did he? That doesn’t… I mean, yes, yes I suppose so…
PATRICK: I’ll be upstairs. <stands up> Movarius, good seeing you again… Lia, nice to meet you.
LIADRIN: You as well, Patrick.
MOKVAR: Take it easy, Patrick.
Patrick gives everyone a nod and wanders back up the stairs.
LIADRIN: I’m sorry, Edwin. I know this can’t be easy for you.
EDWIN: Yeah, well…
MOKVAR: I guess we should let you go do whatever you need to do with Kel’Thuzad…
EDWIN: That’s the thing. I shouldn’t be doing anything with him.
LIADRIN: What do you mean?
EDWIN: I remembered talking to Patrick about Emily moving to Stratholme when the letter arrived for him. I remember pretty much every other conversation I had with him the rest of the way. But I don’t remember seeing Kel’Thuzad again from this point.
MOKVAR: Is that just another one of those things you seem to forget about?
EDWIN: No, you’re not getting it. It’s not that I might have seen him and I’ve forgotten. I can remember every single thing I did the rest of the day today, and tomorrow, and the rest of this week. I didn’t go to see Kel’Thuzad. Yesterday was the last time I saw him for…well for weeks, actually. There wasn’t any business about him wanting to see me again.
LIADRIN: That’s…rather troubling.
EDWIN: Nozdormu was right this morning. Something’s going wrong with the timeline. Somehow, something’s already changed because of us being here.
Because my life isn’t delightful enough right now, right?
Meanwhile, while all this happy news was happening, I was bringing frog-Edwin upstairs for the other part of Mokvar’s plan. Here’s where the dude really got thinking outside the box. He had figured, while we have this version of Faranell all frogged up, we can use him to kill two birds with one stone, because what better way to distract a snot-nosed kid from a shiny magic crystal that just sits there looking glowy, than with a real life hoppy potential pet? Not that the little punk is going to KEEP Faranell forever, obviously, but if we give him the frog, Mokvar figures that should keep him distracted long enough for us to find where he has the chameleon shard, or maybe do a trade or something. Anyway, it’s a possible way in without, you know, having to beat up a little kid. Which I still say Chromie seemed a little creepy eager to do, gotta tell you.
So anyway, I brought the frog upstairs to see if we could do the switch, only Taelan was actually off in one of the rooms with Tirion. So no opening to make the move there. We’ll have to keep an eye out and try to jump in when we get the chance. Probably will assign Mokvar to this job, since he can refresh the hex every so often if he needs to. In the meantime, Faranell and Liadrin and I can be getting set for Isilien tonight. With any luck things will start falling in our direction. Not that we’ve had much luck so far, but at this point you have to figure the law of averages is starting to owe us.
Past imperfect
So we finally have things in motion to find out just what Isilien and Doan wind up doing with the light crystal. We’re hoping we can stay close to whatever we’re doing, and then get a read on whatever kind of magic they end up using the create the anti-plague effect. To that end, we brought a special magic component – something called a chameleon shard. When it’s put in close proximity to a magically-charged object or field, it attunes itself to it and basically recreates the magic properties inside its own…crystalline…matrix, I think it is? Anyway, point is, it sucks up a carbon copy of the magic close to it and locks it up so we can take it with us without it going kablooey, and once we have THAT done at the original, untriggered source of this thing, we should be able to use it to create a counter-effect.
Which leads us to the latest meeting of the minds from this morning…
MOKVAR: So what’s the game plan for tonight?
GARROSH: Isilien said we should pay him a visit after dark tonight. By that point, with any luck, he’ll have finished whatever he’s been working on with Doan, and we can get a look at the end results.
MOKVAR: What if it’s still a work in progress?
GARROSH: Well, then I guess we get to follow the ongoing work.
FARANELL: That could end up being helpful in itself. Depending on just what they’re doing, watching them actually formulating it might make it easier to determine a way to counter it.
MOKVAR: One thing, though. If you’re there, and they’re still working on it, won’t they want you guys to help them with it?
GARROSH: Probably.
MOKVAR: Won’t that be a problem? I mean, I’m guessing we weren’t supposed to create the problem we came back in time to try to solve.
LIADRIN: Maybe. Maybe not. For all we know, we were always part of the creation of this thing.
GARROSH: Either way, we can try to keep our help to a minimum, at least.
LIADRIN: It shouldn’t be terribly difficult to create the appearance of helping without interfering too much. Just listen to what they’re already thinking, then nudge them further in that direction without really feeding them any ideas they wouldn’t have come to regardless.
GARROSH: Also, Mokvar, I’m going to have you stay back for this one. You and Utvoch wait here in the room, or hang out downstairs if it looks clear, but I’m just going to go with Liadrin and Faranell, since they’re the ones who really need to check on this thing up close.
MOKVAR: Whatever you say, chief.
LIADRIN: Is there anything else we need to have in place before we go?
GARROSH: The only other thing is having the chameleon shard ready, in case they manage to get their little doohickey completely done tonight.
FARANELL: You’ve been holding it, haven’t you, Utvoch? I should probably give it a few arcane charges before we go, to have it warmed up just in case.
UTVOCH: Yeah, I’ve got it here.
Utvoch sets down his pack and starts digging through it.
MOKVAR: Say, Garrosh, I just realized, are you sure you don’t want me coming tonight to take notes?
GARROSH: <shakes head> Isilien was already less than thrilled about bringing in more people, and Doan didn’t seem like he’s going to be very friendly. I don’t want to push my luck inviting more people than necessary to the party, much less setting off any bells by having someone hanging around writing down everything everyone says.
MOKVAR: Yeah, true. I was just thinking this might be the part of the trip where we’d especially like to keep a record of things.
LIADRIN: I can always write it up after we’re done, as well. I do agree it’s to our benefit to record as much of this as possible, especially in case we need to keep our stories straight for timeline purposes.
FARANELL: I can help with that when you’re working on it. I have an eidetic memory, so I should be able to cover most of what ends up being said.
UTVOCH: <still rifling around in his pack> Wait, you dead what?
FARANELL: No, eidetic.
LIADRIN: It means a photographic memory.
UTVOCH: Oh. What’s photographic?
GARROSH: Hold on. You have an eidetic memory?
FARANELL: Yeah. I was tested for it as a kid and everything. <chuckles> Only reason Patrick didn’t wind up three grades ahead of me.
GARROSH: So can I ask you something?
FARANELL: Yes?
GARROSH: If you’re supposed to have this uber-memory, how come you’re always forgetting shit?
MOKVAR: You do seem pretty forgetful sometimes.
FARANELL: I don’t know why people keep saying that.
GARROSH: Because it’s true?
FARANELL: I’ll have you know, I can recite back to you every book I’ve read in the last five years.
LIADRIN: Well, it might just be that he has excellent recall of specific sights and sounds, or language? But broader events slip his memory sometimes?
FARANELL: “Our first day went as well as one can expect first days to go. Most of our time was preoccupied with making the necessary arrangements to establish a base camp. I located an ideal setting by a freshwater river inlet. Judging by the old, abandoned docks nearby, this site was inhabited sometime ago. As for the original inhabitants, only time can tell that tale.” Just saying.
GARROSH: Okay, fine, you have a perfect memory except for when you don’t. Go ahead and help Liadrin with the recordkeeping if it makes you happy.
UTVOCH: So, um, guys? I think we have a problem.
MOKVAR: Oh no.
FARANELL: Here we go.
GARROSH: What is it?
UTVOCH: Well, um…I don’t think the shard is here.
LIADRIN: That’s kind of bad.
GARROSH: What. Do you mean. The shard. Isn’t HERE?
UTVOCH: I don’t know, I was keeping it in my pack, only it’s not here now…
FARANELL: Let me see that.
Faranell grabs the pack from Utvoch and starts sifting through its contents, tossing assorted pieces of junk onto the floor.
GARROSH: Fucking hell, Utvoch, you had ONE FUCKING JOB on this trip…
FARANELL: Nope…nope… No – for goodness’ sake, man, how many comic books do you need?
LIADRIN: Could someone have gotten to it while you were away from the room or some such?
UTVOCH: No, it’s been in that pack since we got here, and I’ve kept the pack with me the entire time.
MOKVAR: You’re sure you didn’t leave it alone around someone?
UTVOCH: Of course I didn’t, what do you think I’m stupid or something?
Everyone looks around at each other for a moment.
GARROSH: You know what? Any other time that would have been really funny, but right now I’m not in the fucking mood.
FARANELL: <handing the pack brusquely back to Utvoch> Well, that settles it. It’s definitely not here.
UTVOCH: <looking through pack again> Hey, I had a Nutterbar in here that’s gone, too.
MOKVAR: Utvoch, nobody cares about your stupid candy bar.
GARROSH: Hang on.
LIADRIN: Oh no.
GARROSH: Utvoch, you’re SURE you’ve kept that pack with you the whole time we’ve been in Southshore?
UTVOCH: Positive.
GARROSH: <rubbing his head> Yeah… So…
FARANELL: Oh…no.
GARROSH: Shiny, gimmicky-looking crystal, AND a candy bar missing, AND he’s been spending almost all his time doing what…?
LIADRIN: <sighs> By the Light, Utvoch…
UTVOCH: Spending all my time…? Oh CRAP, you think the kid took it?
GARROSH: Tirion’s brat is the only person you’ve been around for any length of time since we’ve been here. Unless you think THRALL made off with it?
UTVOCH: Do you think Thrall would have taken—OWW!
MOKVAR: Hey, um, why is there all this smoke in here all of sudden?
GARROSH: Of COURSE Thrall wouldn’t have taken it!
LIADRIN: There isn’t something burning, is there?
FARANELL: No, this isn’t ffrroomm aa ffiirree.
MOKVAR: Wwhhyy aarree yyoouu ttaallkkiinngg ssoo ssllooww—oohh, nneevveerr mmiinndd…
GARROSH: OOhh bbooyyy. HHHeeerrreee wwweee gggooo aaagggaaaiiinnn….
The smoke thickens as Soridormi and Chromie teleport into the room, flanking the door. A few seconds later, Nozdormu strolls pimps [Word choice revised at the Warchief’s insistence. –Mkvr., ed.] into the room in slow motion.
NOZDORMU: Greetings, Warchief.
CHROMIE: Hiya, guys!
GARROSH: Hey— <waves his hand around in front of his face for a moment to see if it’s moving at normal speed> Okay, that’s better. Hey Noz.
MOKVAR: Is that really necessary?
NOZDORMU: Is what really necessary?
Soridormi, standing behind Nozdormu, shakes her head vigorously while waving one hand side to side.
MOKVAR: Never mind.
CHROMIE: <giggles>
GARROSH: So I’m guessing this isn’t just a social call.
NOZDORMU: Indeed, Warchief.
SORIDORMI: We’re concerned that something may be amiss with your mission.
FARANELL: Oh, you have no idea.
NOZDORMU: I’ve detected a disturbance in the timeline, located roughly around this point. At this stage it’s difficult for me to pinpoint its origin exactly; whatever the key events are, I suspect they’re still in their early stages of unfolding, and without my Aspect powers I find my ability to see through the cracks in the timeline more limited than they were. Nevertheless, something in the proper progression of these events has been disrupted.
MOKVAR: Yeah, um…
GARROSH: About that.
FARANELL: Really? So we traveled back ten years, got a bunch of Alliance from the future killed in the past, there’s two copies of me running around within like ten yards of each other, we’ve dropped a highly sensitive and powerful magical attunement device into the hands of a kid who’s going to grow up to be a xenophobic nutjob—
CHROMIE: You really want to get that back pronto, by the way.
FARANELL: —and now you’re telling us that something has been disrupted in the timeline? Imagine my astonishment.
NOZDORMU: You know, it’s not too late for me to skip back about thirty years and arrange for a certain someone never to have been born.
GARROSH: At the rate this is going, could you get me too on the way back?
MOKVAR: Wouldn’t it be better just to erase Utvoch?
GARROSH: You know what? Good call. Let’s go with that instead.
UTVOCH: Wait, what? He’s going to do what to me?
GARROSH: Shouldn’t you be busy right now THINKING ABOUT WHAT YOU’VE DONE?
UTVOCH: Sorry, sir.
NOZDORMU: At…any rate.
SORIDORMI: I wish we could give you more specific information, but unfortunately…
NOZDORMU: All I can really tell you is that something is amiss, but still very much in flux. You need to take extreme care not to cause any further disturbances in the events of this time, and get back to your own time as quickly as possible.
FARANELL: So, in other words, don’t mess up. Thanks, that helps a lot.
NOZDORMU: Or I could fast-forward you up to the day of your death. That could work too, you know.
FARANELL: Already been there, actually.
NOZDORMU: Would you like a return trip?
SORIDORMI: <giving Nozdormu a gentle tug on the shoulder> We…know this is a hectic and confusing time for you all. We simply mean to impress upon you the importance of the utmost caution.
GARROSH: Believe me, nobody wants to find the source of that anti-plague thing and get out of here without a fuss more than me.
LIADRIN: And by the looks of it, I’d say we’re not far off.
UTVOCH: Can I ask a stupid question?
GARROSH: Like nobody I’ve ever met.
UTVOCH: Huh?
GARROSH: Never mind. Ask.
UTVOCH: Well okay, you guys are going to try to see what caused that thing that’s killing the undead, right?
GARROSH: Only a week in and you’ve already pieced that together, huh? You’re getting sharp on me.
FARANELL: In other words, yes.
UTVOCH: Well then, begging your pardon, Warchief, not to question your great and imperious judgment, but while we’re here, couldn’t we just stop those guys from doing it in the first place?
LIADRIN, NOZDORMU, and SORIDORMI: <overlapping> No.
UTVOCH: Oh. Why not?
LIADRIN: Paradoxes.
UTVOCH: Wait, parrot oxes? You mean we’ll create some weird new animal or something?
CHROMIE: Oi, this one’s a shitake mushroom for brains…
UTVOCH: Actually, you know, parrot oxes could be kind of cool…
LIADRIN: No. Paradoxes. If we prevent the anti-plague from being created in the past, when we get to the future, the anti-plague won’t exist, but then there won’t be a reason for us to come to the past anymore, so we won’t, so then the anti-plague will be created, and so forth, in an endless self-canceling loop.
CHROMIE: See, see, I told you I liked her!
UTVOCH: …So you could have the parrot oxes plowing the fields, but while they’re doing that they could talk, and that would probably make the work go faster since I bet working in the fields for hours gets pretty boring, and—
Utvoch finds himself unable to finish his sentence, as his train of thought is interrupted by his unplanned transformation into a sheep.
FARANELL: Okay. That’s enough from him.
LIADRIN: Ha! You polymorphed him?
GARROSH: Dude, that’s…that’s just…I don’t even have a word for how much awesome that is.
UTVOCH: <bleats>
MOKVAR: Hmm, you know, that’s giving me an idea…
NOZDORMU: At this point I suppose we should leave you to your work…
CHROMIE: You definitely want to work on getting that shard thingy back fast.
LIADRIN: I would imagine Tirion would be a fairly strict father. I suppose if we told him we think his son might have stolen something, he would—
GARROSH: Maybe make the kid give it back, yeah, and maybe ask “Oh, so what is this thing my kid swiped? Oh, a magical shard, what for?” And maybe ask Doan about it, who almost definitely is going to know his chameleon shards. And maybe Tirion gets curious about what these people hanging out with Isilien have one of THOSE for…
LIADRIN: Hmm, true, probably too risky, I suppose…
CHROMIE: Oh feldercarb, you people need to stop dancing around it! Just grab the kid and steal it back! What’s he going to do, stop you? He’s a kid!
UTVOCH: <bleats>
FARANELL: Well, to be fair, he could call his fairly powerful, well-connected paladin dad, who we absolutely can’t harm while we’re here, so…
CHROMIE: Fine, fine, so you just keep him incapacitated while you steal it! You can…well jiminy, Faranell could sheep him just like Utvoch…
UTVOCH: <bleats>
CHROMIE: Or you could hex him, or, I don’t care, Throwdown or Repentance, or… flipping flux capacitor, you’ve got a room full of crowd control here, do you really need me drawing a diagram for you guys?
GARROSH: Wow, you’ve REALLY got a yen for us to mug this kid, don’t you?
CHROMIE: Hey, do you want your thingymabob back or not?
MOKVAR: Actually, along those lines, I was thinking… Since you all have powers over time, would it be possible for you to give one of us…well, a buff, I suppose. To prolong the duration of a spell like polymorph?
CHROMIE: Huh… What do you think, skipper?
NOZDORMU: It would be simple enough, though such an enhancement would have to have a very limited number of charges…
FARANELL: You’re thinking you’d want me to hit Taelan with a super-polymorph?
MOKVAR: Actually I was thinking more of my hex. What I had in mind—
The door to the room swings open and Kelly the innkeeper barges in.
KELLY: Hey, what’s going on up here? I’m hearing all kinds of noise down in the… <looks down at Utvoch the sheep> …lobby…
GARROSH: Oh, hey, um…
LIADRIN: There’s…a very simple explanation for that.
FARANELL: Yes, there is, although regrettably it reflects rather poorly on all of us…
UTVOCH: <bleats>
KELLY: What the blazes are you people doing with a sheep up here? We don’t… <glances over and notices Nozdormu and Soridormi> …High elves? Gracious, we haven’t seen high elves in Southshore in I don’t know how long. I didn’t think you went slumming far beyond Dalaran…
SORIDORMI: Yes, well…
GARROSH: Um, yeah, I can explain them, too.
NOZDORMU: You can?
SORIDORMI: He can.
NOZDORMU: I hope so.
KELLY: I’m listening.
GARROSH: Look… Mr. Kelly… I’m going to level with you. Clearly you, um, you’re an observant guy, so you must be aware that there’s a lot of strange business going on around here these days.
KELLY: Mostly since you lot turned up, yes.
GARROSH: Right. Well. Um, yes, that’s why we’re here, you see. My people and I are…um…special investigators sent by the king. We have a…a number of leads concerning some suspicious activities leading us to Southshore, and me and my fellow royal investigators are here to…um…investigate. Royally.
FARANELL: <aside to Garrosh> Smooth.
KELLY: The king sent… Wait, which king?
GARROSH: Which king? Oh, well… <aside to Liadrin> Who’s the king now?
LIADRIN: <aside> Of which kingdom?
GARROSH: <aside, hissing> Just GIVE ME A FUCKING NAME!
LIADRIN: Terenas!
GARROSH: Terenas! Yes, yes, good old King Terenas!
KELLY: Ahh, all right, so you’re sent from here in Lordaeron. For a minute, as strange as you were acting, I thought you might have been sent from Stormwind or some such damn thing.
GARROSH: Oh no, no, we’re definitely looking out for dear old Lordaeron.
KELLY: A good thing, too, as I was going to have words for you if you said you’d been sent by that hot-headed damn brat of a king they have down there!
GARROSH: Wait, brat…? You mean Varian?
KELLY: Yessir! Fuck that Varian, if you ladies will pardon my language!
GARROSH: Oh HELL yes! I KNEW I liked you, Kelly! I’ll be sure to give a fine report on you to good old Tyranus.
LIADRIN: Terenas.
GARROSH: Whoever the fuck he is!
KELLY: Well hold on now.
GARROSH: Hmm?
KELLY: First of all, you say you’re royal investigators, and that sounds all well and good, but how do I know you’re telling the truth?
GARROSH: I…have an honest face?
KELLY: Lots of liars do! If you’re really sent by the king, you surely must have sort of papers to prove you are who you say you are.
GARROSH: Oh. Right. Where did I put those…um…
Nozdormu and Soridormi exchange a look, Soridormi nods, and Nozdormu sighs briefly.
NOZDORMU: Did you forget…Inspector? You asked me to hold your royal orders.
GARROSH: I did?
NOZDORMU: <glaring> I don’t know, did you?
GARROSH: OH RIGHT. I did. Yes. You have the documents on you, then?
NOZDORMU: <handing Garrosh some papers> Here you are, Inspector.
GARROSH: Uh, but these are blank—
SORIDORMI: I’m sure, Inspector, if you let good Mr. Kelly here review the documents, he’ll find everything is in order…
GARROSH: Right, right, sure…
Garrosh hands the papers to Kelly, who flips through them for a moment.
KELLY: Well, you’re right…I would know Terenas’ seal anywhere… I suppose you are who you say…
GARROSH: Hell yes! Now if you’ll excuse us, Mr. Kelly—
KELLY: <turning to face Nozdormu, Soridormi, and Chromie> I’m still curious what business high elves have with this investigation of yours, though, Inspector. And…a gnome?
CHROMIE: Hiya!
GARROSH: Ah. Right, well, you see, Mr. Kelly, these are special undercover agents, on loan from Silvermoon and…someplace where there are gnomes. Regrettably. Anyway, these are my top operatives – The Legs, The Noz, and Mrs. Robbin’-Son.
CHROMIE: I hate you.
GARROSH: No you don’t.
KELLY: Huh. I see. Well I suppose that explains that—
Behind Kelly’s back, Utvoch’s polymorph wears off and he poofs back into his human appearance.
UTVOCH: The hell was—
Liadrin slaps a hand over Utvoch’s mouth, and she and Faranell pull him back to stand with them.
LIADRIN: Ssshhh!!
KELLY: —but you still haven’t accounted for having a damned sheep in your room!
LIADRIN: What sheep?
FARANELL: I don’t see a sheep.
UTVOCH: Did you guys not see—OWW!!
KELLY: <looking around> It was right here when I first came in.
GARROSH: Are you sure?
MOKVAR: I don’t remember there being a sheep in here.
FARANELL: I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if there were a sheep in my room.
GARROSH: I wouldn’t be much of an inspector if I’d missed something like that.
LIADRIN: Certainly not one of the king’s select agents.
GARROSH: Yep yep. Right hand man of King Terribad, that’s me.
LIADRIN: Actually, it’s Tere—
GARROSH: It’s what his friends call him.
LIADRIN: Of course.
KELLY: Hmm… Well… It must be gone now. Though I haven’t a notion of where it could have gone. I know there was something up here making noises!
LIADRIN: Mr. Kelly, perhaps you should get some rest. I’m concerned that you may be working too hard and starting to imagine things.
KELLY: I’m not imagining things, missy. I’m sure I heard a sheep up in this—
Kelly finds himself unable to finish his sentence, as his assertion is interrupted by his transformation into a sheep.
GARROSH: Well I’ll be damned. He’s right.
LIADRIN: Faranell!
FARANELL: Did you have a way in mind to get him to leave? That didn’t also involve gallons of delightful irony?
GARROSH: Okay, okay, Utvoch, you herd the innkeeper on downstairs real quick, and then we can get back to business.
UTVOCH: Yes, sir.
NOZDORMU: And, for my part, I believe the time has come for me to make my exit. Before I’m forced to witness any more absurdity that I can never unwitness.
GARROSH: Later, Noz.
SORIDORMI: <aside> I don’t know why it surprises you, of all people.
NOZDORMU: <aside> It’s not that it surprises me, it’s just… Ugh, that one in particular.
SORIDORMI: <aside> Well don’t blame me. I didn’t have to find a nice Mag’har girl to get to coincidentally cross paths with Grom…
NOZDORMU: <aside> I know, I know, I thought it would calm him down a bit.
SORIDORMI: <aside> And how did that work out?
So anyway…as much as I’d like to invest some more time in beating some sense (or unconsciousness) into Utvoch, that’s going to have to wait for now. Mokvar seems to have some kind of brainstorm for something we can do, and we’re starting to run short on time, so we’ve got to get things rolling. More soon.
“Why do I have a sudden craving for dandelions?”
Durnholde Keep
After Mokvar and Faranell dropped their respective timeline bombs on us, we hashed out how best to juggle things to keep the risks to a minimum. In the middle of things, Chromie popped in just to…I don’t know…go “gee willickers” a couple times and remind us that Mokvar and Faranell absolutely must not interfere with their former selves, like we didn’t already get that. And then she blathered on about all the crap that could go wrong with the timestream if they do, and most of it pretty much just came off as “WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS BAD.”
So yeah, we’ve got to be careful about this, but the way around it seemed pretty obvious. Mokvar couldn’t run into himself at Durnholde Keep, so okay, he just wouldn’t go. He stayed back at the inn in Southshore and kept an eye out for Tirion’s people arriving while we went to Durnholde to take care of Thrall. Meanwhile, Faranell can’t interfere with his old human self, so he came with the rest of us to Durnholde – get him away from Southshore for a little while, minimize the chance for a random run in, and plus this way he could be traveling with the bunch of us at all times so we can all be giving a sort of buffer zone in case Faranell v1.0 turns up. Liadrin also had a pretty sharp idea, to have a sign/countersign for Faranell, just in case he’s ever separated from us or if anything happens where we need to make sure we’re dealing with the right Faranell. The way things tend to go for us, it’s probably a good idea not to leave anything to chance.
Side note, I’m not sure if Faranell is worried about running into his younger self, or if seeing Kel’Thuzad and Helcular just threw him or something, but he’s been acting kind of strange since he and Mokvar got back. A couple times now I’ve caught him just staring at himself in the mirror, touching his face, just seeming all kinds of distracted. Not sure what to make of that. Hopefully he’ll be able to keep his head in the game until we finish what we came for.
So anyway, I finally headed out with Faranell, Liadrin, and Utvoch, and we made our way over to Durnholde. And I’ve got to say, I don’t know WHAT was going on with that defunct Alliance group that was supposed to handle this, that they thought they needed five people to handle this job. The Noz might have been erring on the side of safety, or maybe those Alliance scrubs really do suck, but no joke, I can’t possibly exaggerate how easily we rolled over those Durnholde guards. We had to clear out the lower barracks first, where some of the orcs were being held. And then I guess one of the officers came running in, some dude named Drake, at least that’s what Liadrin tells me. I wouldn’t have thought there was anything special about the guy myself, what with how he dropped like a rock after one good chop from Gorehowl.
Anyway…at that point we were set to head into the keep proper and get Thrall. It took a few minutes to hack up the handful of guards on the way in, and then, lo and behold, there was our Warchief-to-be chilling in the basement cell. And you know, I’ve got to say, you always figure the whole time travel business is pretty straightforward as far as the do’s and don’ts, but you don’t realize how hard it can be to bite your tongue until you’re standing there with a younger version of someone you know. I had to keep stopping myself from saying things to him, not that half of what I would have to say would make any sense to him coming from my fake-ass human face.
Here’s the other thing, though. I wasn’t expecting him to be so young. I mean, I knew how old he was, it’s not hard to take now-Thrall and roll him back ten years in my head. But even beyond the ten years…he was just so YOUNG. You could see it. Even locked in a jail cell, he just seemed so…unburdened. His eyes looked so much less tired. I never even realized how much Thrall seems like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders now, until I saw what he used to be like. Anyway.
One thing that was still the same, though – past or present, credit where it’s due, Thrall’s kind of a badass any way you cut it. In fact, I think I liked past-Thrall a little more, just because he seemed a lot more unapologetic about it. Like for instance, we broke him out of his cell, and he ran up to the keep’s armory to grab some armor and a weapon for himself. And there was this armorer guy standing watch there, and he started screaming bloody murder when he saw Thrall roll in, and before you could say “open-hand bitch-slap,” well…see for yourselves.
THRALL KEEPS THE PIMP HAND STRONG.
“That’s enough from him” is right, Thrall. Roll with it, man. Hell, bottle some of that shit up and send it to yourself ten years from now, you could use it. True story.
Anyway, the stupid humans sent a bunch more guards to try to stop us on the way out, and we made hilariously short work of them, and then I guess there was some captain that we polished off without me even realizing he was supposed to be someone important because OMG SPLAT. At that point, Thrall had the bright idea that he wanted to use the captain guy’s horse to high-tail it out of there…even though the horse was barely moving faster than we were on foot. I mean, seriously, were these the best mounts the humans had available back in the day? Really? And meanwhile Thrall was looking absolutely ridiculous sitting on top of this thing, PLUS if he was moving any slower he’d be going backwards, and for real, dude, have you just not learned ghost wolf form yet? Because even that would have been faster than this reject horse.
Anyhow, you don’t need every last painful detail. We got Thrall to Tarren Mill, and killed some more humans – always a plus – and then some of those Infinite Dragonflight guys showed up, and we handed them their asses easily enough. And then out of nowhere this fog rolled in, and – you guessed it – The Noz came pimping in to check on things, and confirmed that the timeline has been secured against the Infinite Dragonflight’s interference, and that’s nice and all, dude, but how about you leave a memo for yourself not to be a frigging douche-tard down the road so we don’t have to waste time stopping your future chronies (SEE WHAT I DID THERE?) from screwing around with things?
Oh and also? Just have to say – Thrall’s human friend Taretha? SPITTING IMAGE of Jaina. Seriously. Crossbow to my head, I could not tell those two apart. And you know what? Draw your own conclusions about her. I don’t even want to know.
We’re back at the Southshore inn now, and we just need to hold tight until Tirion and Alexandros Mograine and all those people show up. I’ll keep you posted on what happens. Or, you know, you can consult the nearest history book.
[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!]
So it goes
So check this out! I’m writing to you FROM THE PAST! How freaky is that?
Okay, so, Mokvar just pointed out that ANY writing I’ve done would have to be from the past, seeing as I would have to write it, and then at some point AFTER that you would read it, and so I would ALWAYS be writing from the past, and yeah, thank you, Mokvar, way to piss on my excitement and muddy up what should have been a cool moment. Fuck.
Okay, I had to be smack him around a few times for a minute there. I’m back now.
Anyway, though, the point is, I’m not writing to you from the plain-ol’-regular past right now, where I write a blog post and a couple hours later you see it. No, no, I’m writing to you from TEN YEARS AGO. Because GUESS WHERE WE ARE, bitches! Um, I mean, WHEN we are. Although that doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well. Anyhow.
That’s right, right this minute I’m writing to you from old Hillsbrad. Well, right this minute, to me. To you it’s still ten years ago…okay, you know what, you guys know what I mean, so I’m going to stop trying to keep my verb tenses straight, I’m just going to give myself a headache if I try to keep this shit up.
Anyway, I know what you’re wondering – how the hell can I be connecting to the internet and accessing the here-and-now blog from Hillsbrad ten years ago? I mean, hell, they were still using fucking dial-up back then, right? Well here’s the thing: I had the foresight to bring my laptop on this trip, complete with the why-fly doohickey Spazzle hooked me up with, and so I’m still able to get online using Nozdormu’s wireless network. And I know what you’re going to say next – “but, but, ten years ago!” Well here’s the thing, part two. The Noz’s wireless network is fucking AMAZING. Everything he does is all time-warpy, and his network is no exception. Hell, ten years is nothing – you can connect to that thing from fucking CENTURIES ago. Not to mention, his built-in spam filter? Not only does it BLOCK all the spam and pop-ups and all that crap, but it locates their source and sends a fucking bronze dragon to roflstomp it and pretty much wipe it clean out of the timestream before it even has the chance to exist. I think he calls the feature iPwn.
So, let me catch you all up on the situation. I traveled through the portal to old Hillsbrad with the rest of my team: me, Mokvar, Faranell, Lady Liadrin, and Utvoch. Dontrag ended up staying out. The Noz made a fuss about six of us going on the trip…for some reason, sending five of us back was no problem, but six, oh boy, sending six was going to be all kinds of logistical headaches. Apparently the time portal takes a huge amount of power to maintain – 1.21 gigawatts, if I remember him right – and trying to squeeze an extra person in was just going to make them blow a fuse or something. At first I tried arguing with him, and made the case that really, Dontrag and Utvoch should only count as one person between them, because seriously, you’ve met them, right? But oh no, he wouldn’t budge, so I just had the two of them do their coin-toss game to see who got to go. Utvoch won – which broke Dontrag’s 89-toss win streak, by the way – and so here he is.
I got the last laugh on the Noz, by the way. Since he wasn’t going to let Dontrag come with us, I told Dontrag to wait for us with Nozdormu and keep him company. BET YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT ONE COMING, did you, Noz? HAH!
I was having a good chuckle over that while we took the portal, but apparently karma really is a bitch, because Utvoch didn’t waste much time making me think maybe I should have brought the other one. Or neither. Come to think of it, neither’s starting to sound pretty good.
So anyway…we go through the portal, and the bunch of us are getting ourselves situated and checking out each other’s new fugly human looks. Mine’s not a disaster, although I don’t know WHAT’S going on with this beard. Oh and Faranell, check this out, HIS human form? It’s not even a fake human form — he looks like his old self, like what he looked like as a human before he died and got turned undead. Crazy, huh?
Anyhow, we’re all checking this stuff out, when I look up and see Utvoch is already getting mixed up with something. He’s wandered a little ways off to the nearby hillside, and he’s managed to piss off some giant moth that’s buffeting him around with its wings. By the time I can yell “The hell are you doing, fuckwit?” he’s already got the moth dead, but still, we’re supposed to avoid messing around with anything that isn’t necessary while we’re back here. Still, I don’t think too much of it, because what are the odds of any kind of fallout from killing a moth, right?
Yeah. Hold that thought.
So, we take the scenic route so as not to be noticed, sneaking past the outskirts of Tarren Mill past the south road. We make our way south just past the watchtower, and we’re about to make the turn down to Southshore, when what do we spot in the field just off the road? A giant fucking yeti, totally owning a pack of five humans. And like, seriously, this wasn’t one of your garden variety yeti, this was the super-gigantic wendigo variety with the big curving horns and shit, the kind I thought you only saw up in Northrend. And this motherfucker is no joke, because he’s totally laying waste to these people even though they seem to be adventurer types, like with a healer and a volunteer meat shield (although seriously, who the fuck volunteers for that job?). Although by the time we see what’s going on, the meat shield guy is a lot less shield and a lot more meat, mostly of the dead variety, and so now the yeti is running around smacking the rest of them down, and within another minute or so they’re all dead.
At that point, Mr. No Fucking Around Giant Yeti Guy spots us and attacks. Naturally I charge in to intercept him before he starts eating someone squishy like Faranell, and I mostly manage to keep him focused on me while everyone else helps burn him down. Even though, come on, who do you think really did most of the work on that one? Anyway, we get the yeti dead without too much trouble, and we go to have a look at the pile of dead humans, when who should pop in on us but the Noz’s pipsqueak buddy Chromie, and…well, here:
Chromie teleports in amid the group.
FARANELL: <jumps> AAH! Don’t…don’t do that!
CHROMIE: Hiya guys! How’s it—
She looks around at the pile of bodies.
Oh fudge crackers. No, no, no…
UTVOCH: That sounds kind of good, do you have s—
GARROSH: <smacks Utvoch> I’m expanding your ban to all words.
UTVOCH: Sorry, sir.
GARROSH: <pummel> Those were words.
Chromie rubs her forehead, then looks around again.
CHROMIE: Really, guys, you haven’t even been here an hour yet. Gramps is not gonna be happy about this…
LIADRIN: What’s wrong?
CHROMIE: <sigh> Remember how we’d sent some adventurers back here on a mission a few years ago?
LIADRIN: Oh no…
MOKVAR: Crap.
CHROMIE: Yeah. So… <looks around the bodies> That’s them.
FARANELL: I don’t get it, though – we haven’t done anything since we’ve been here, have…?
Faranell trails off as the rest of the group turns to look at Utvoch one by one.
GARROSH: You. Fucking. Idiot.
UTVOCH: Yes sir. <pause> Um, but why, sir?
GARROSH: <pummel>
UTVOCH: OWW! Sorry, sir…
MOKVAR: Not to be the secondary idiot here, but I’m a little confused, to be honest. I get that it has to have something to do with the moth, but how did that end up getting these people killed?
GARROSH: Please tell me they were Alliance, at least.
CHROMIE: Yup, they were.
GARROSH: Okay, silver lining, then.
CHROMIE: And as for the moth… <sighs and rubs her head again> The big guy here was a wendigo named Yettimus, and—
LIADRIN: Really? “Yettimus”? People call him that?
FARANELL: Not anymore.
MOKVAR: It is a little on the nose.
LIADRIN: Should I start calling Mokvar or Utvoch “Orcinator” or some such?
UTVOCH: Oh hey, that would be kinda coo—
GARROSH: <pummel>
UTVOCH: OWW!!
GARROSH: Word ban.
UTVOCH: <starts to open mouth, then nods>
CHROMIE: Sooooooo… Yettimus here used to stay pretty secluded up in the hills until fairly recently – by your time, that is – and he mostly kept himself entertained chasing butterflies.
FARANELL: Simple minds, I guess.
GARROSH: Maybe I need to get a butterfly net for you-know-who.
CHROMIE: But, when you guys arrived, Utvoch wound up killing that moth, and in the original timeline that was supposed to happen, that moth was the one that kept Yettimus occupied for most of the afternoon… And when it wasn’t there to keep him busy, he got bored and went wandering around the fields here, and, well… <sigh>
GARROSH: Ugh… Okay, so, what now? Can we maybe pop back out to our own time, and then come back a few minutes earlier and straighten this out?
LIADRIN: I would imagine not…
CHROMIE: Nope.
GARROSH: How come?
CHROMIE: You can’t double back on your own timeline. Once you get mixed up in a certain set of events, you commit to that timestream, and can’t interfere with your own past.
LIADRIN: Otherwise, you create paradoxes and other like anomalies, correct?
FARANELL: When did you become an expert on this?
CHROMIE: No, she’s dead-on right.
LIADRIN: I’m a student of the philosophies of the Light. I happen to enjoy theoretical discussions.
CHROMIE: And don’t even get me started on the beehive you can get into if you cross your own timeline and interact with yourself. Not even gramps can do that without causing all kinds of problems.
GARROSH: Okay, so we can’t get a do-over on the moth…and I’m guessing you can’t just yank these people back out to avoid getting curbstomped by the yeti…
CHROMIE: Nopers.
GARROSH: Okay, so…what do we do now?
CHROMIE: Well, the you part of the “we” just got a new job while you’re here. And while you do that, the me part of the “we” gets to go update Nozdormu on what’s happening here, which he’s not going to like at all…
MOKVAR: So now we need to go make sure Thrall escapes from Durnholde like he’s supposed to?
LIADRIN: It would make sense, to correct the disruption in the timeline…
CHROMIE: I like her! She’s smart.
GARROSH: Not something I get to hear about my minions often…
FARANELL: You know we’re all standing right here, right?
LIADRIN: Wait, “minion”?
MOKVAR: I’m really not liking this business of having to go into Durnholde…
CHROMIE: Well maybe you should have thought of that before you let your ADD squirrel-chasing puppy friend go running around without a leash! Jeepers!
GARROSH: Okay, okay, fine… We’ll go take care of Thrall, just have to juggle that with the original mission, and…ugh…do we at least have time to check on things in Southshore to make sure we’re not already screwed?
CHROMIE: You’ve got a little time before Thrall absolutely has to be in Tarren Mill, so yup. Just be sure to make good time getting in and out of Durnholde when you get there! I’ll check in again later — have fun!
Chromie teleports away again.
So, we’re at the inn in Southshore now. One stroke of luck – none of the Silver Hand people have gotten here. Liadrin talked to Kelly the innkeeper and made a little show of some of her paladinny holy crap to make it seem like she was one of Tirion’s people, and found out he’s not expecting his other paladin guests till tomorrow sometime. So we’ve got a little time to work with if we move fast.
While we were getting settled here at the inn, I sent Mokvar and Utvoch to round up the bodies and bury them somewhere. Faranell volunteered to go up with them, too, to help speed up the process. That left Liadrin and I to get us a couple rooms here at the inn, although Kelly gave us a look when I told him she and I each wanted a separate room. Like, dude, really, grow up. Then I mentioned how we had some other people who would be joining us, so we’d need space for more than one in each room, and OH BOY the look from the innkeeper got an upgrade. Like SERIOUSLY, dude, GROW the fuck UP. You run an inn, stop acting like a fourteen-year-old. Or who knows, maybe these humans are easily shocked or something. None of the innkeepers in Silvermoon would bat an eyelash at any of this shit.
Anyway…once the gravediggers’ commission get back, we’ll get rolling on the whole Durnholde thing. Hopefully we can make quick work of that, because the last thing we need is more complications.
[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!]
Wibbly wobbly, timey whimey
We arrived at the Caverns of Time just a short while ago. Soridormi greeted us on arrival, and I let her take the rest of the group on the tour of the place while I made a lemon squares delivery. Like I mentioned, the big guy really loves his pastry, to the point that he actually has a couple of personal bakers right here in-house. Turns out Nozdormu was still off somewhere busy, so I dropped by the bakery to leave the goodies with his bakers, and figured while I was there, what the hell, I might as well leave them a copy of the recipe. Maybe win a few bonus points that way. I wound up hanging out with them there while I waited for everyone to get back. Not sure what to make of those two. I mean, they seemed happy enough to take the recipe, and one of them, Tom, seemed really cool. Awesome guy. Can totally see him being the kind of dude that everybody loves. Colin, though…I don’t know, he just seemed like kind of a dick.
Anyway, after everyone was done having a look around the place, Nozdormu came out to see us. Eventually. I’ve heard that’s kind of his pattern. Even after the tour, he took his sweet time showing up. So we were just stuck sitting there a while, me and Mokvar going through his notes to catch Liadrin up, and meanwhile Dontrag and Utvoch (yes, I brought them, it never hurts to have a couple low-grade flunkies around for the heavy lifting) managed to kill some time flipping coins. In which, by the way, it looked like Utvoch really took Dontrag to the cleaners. Or maybe the other way around. I still have trouble keeping them straight sometimes.
Anyway, eventually Nozdormu got his scaly ass out to see us. You should have seen the way he breezed on in. First of all, I swear somebody started cranking out smoke right before he showed up, and then, when he finally came strolling on in through the fog, he did some kind of time distortion thing that made everything seem like it had slowed down to half speed. And so here he comes, pimping on in through the smoke, in slow motion. Gotta admit, it was pretty fucking cool.
Anyway, Thrall had already given Nozdormu – or, as I like to call him, The Noz – a brief rundown of the situation, and Faranell and I filled in some more of the details for him. He mostly just nodded knowingly in that way he always does, kind of floating somewhere halfway between really cool and really annoying. Eventually he said he could probably help us out, provided we could stick to a few rules. I told him that shouldn’t be problem, because if there’s one thing yours truly is all about, it’s discipline and self-control. He just kind of stared at me a little when I said that. Not sure what the deal was there. But yeah, so he filled out the picture for us, and…you know what, why am I yammering away paraphrasing this? Mokvar was there. Here, I’ll have him hook us up:
NOZDORMU: As it happens, we have a time portal already established to Hillsbrad in the era you’re speaking of, so it shouldn’t be hard at all to send you there.
GARROSH: Well that’s convenient I guess. Would you not be able to open a new portal if you didn’t have one running already?
NOZDORMU: That would be…more problematic. We of the bronze dragonflight still have dominion over the timeways, and can travel along the pathways of time, but since the defeat of Deathwing, my ability to manipulate those timeways enough to open new time portals is…limited.
GARROSH: I was wondering about that, actually. Like how does that work with you guys? I would have figured losing your Aspect powers would have put this place out of business.
NOZDORMU: Not quite so simple. It’s true, we former Aspects expended our ancient power in order to charge the Dragon Soul, and we are now diminished, as compared to what we were. Mortal now, most notably…
GARROSH: Actually, if Deathwing and, you know, Malygos were any indication, you guys were sort of always mortal…
NOZDORMU: Well that’s different.
GARROSH: How is it different?
NOZDORMU: Malygos and Neltharion were killed in battle. Without the intervention of their slayers they would have carried on as immortals for eternity.
GARROSH: So, they were immortal as long as somebody didn’t kill them. Gotta say, that’s a pretty loose definition of “immortal.”
NOZDORMU: Did you really come here to argue semantics with a millennia-old, Titan-appointed caretaker of reality, just before asking him to do you a favor?
GARROSH: I know, I know. Just sayin’.
NOZDORMU: Where did that expression come from, incidentally? “Just sayin’.” If you say something insulting or presumptuous, how does tacking “Just sayin’” on the end of it make it any less insulting?
GARROSH: Okay, okay, you’re immortal, fine. Well, were.
NOZDORMU: Nevertheless, each of the flights holds dominion over one of the primal forces of the world, and even without our Aspect empowerment, the flights maintain those bonds. Ysera and the green dragonflight, for instance, continue their attunement to the Emerald Dream, just as the red dragonflight maintain their stewardship of life. Likewise, we bronze dragons are able to travel through time, and I personally retain my heightened perception of temporality.
GARROSH: What about Kalecgos?
NOZDORMU: What about him?
GARROSH: Well, he was the Aspect of Magic, right?
NOZDORMU: For about a week.
GARROSH: Well, still.
NOZDORMU: I don’t know. I guess he can still…well… He probably still knows a few card tricks, I guess.
GARROSH: Oh.
NOZDORMU: I’m not sure, though.
GARROSH: Ah, okay.
NOZDORMU: Yeah.
Garrosh, Faranell, and Liadrin exchange awkward looks.
GARROSH: So about the Hillsbrad thing.
NOZDORMU: Oh yes, that. As I was saying. We have a portal already established to Hillsbrad circa a decade ago, so it would be simple enough to send you through. I can further assign Chronormu—
Chromie, a bronze dragon assuming the form of a female gnome, teleports in and bounces happily next to Nozdormu.
CHROMIE: Hiya!
NOZDORMU: —to check in on you on occasion, to be sure there aren’t any unforeseen complications.
GARROSH: Wait, she’s a dragon? And what do you mean, complications?
CHROMIE: Yup, that’s me!
NOZDORMU: Yes, she’s one of the bronze flight. I suppose you haven’t met—
CHROMIE: Oh sure we ha—
NOZDORMU: I mean he. Hasn’t met you.
CHROMIE: Ohhhh, right, skipper. <making a zipping motion across her mouth> Sshhh!
GARROSH: Should…I be worried about something here?
FARANELL: I probably would have been worried long before this, but that’s just me.
CHROMIE: Ohhh don’t you fret over little ol’ me. I don’t bite. At least not in this form! <giggles>
GARROSH: Speaking of which, do you really have to be a gnome?
CHROMIE: Why? What’s wrong with gnomes?
Mokvar, Faranell, Dontrag, and Utvoch all utter overlapping groans.
MOKVAR: Oh boy, here we go.
DONTRAG: What’s wrong with gnomes, she says…
FARANELL: Even I know better than to…yeah…
UTVOCH: We’re going to be here a while, aren’t we?
MOKVAR: Every day with the gnomes…
LIADRIN: <to Faranell> Um, what did Lor’themar drag me into?
FARANELL: Give it a little time, really. It seems weird at first, but after a little while it actually becomes kind of fun.
DONTRAG: If he’s going to start in on the gnomes, you want to toss a few more coins?
UTVOCH: Yeah, no thanks, eighty-nine straight losses is enough for me in one day.
GARROSH: Okay, okay, will you people SHUT UP?
NOZDORMU: If one of my progeny taking the guise of a gnome is really that distasteful to you, I suppose I could appoint someone else, although I must say Chromie is one of my very best operatives, and…
CHROMIE: Thanks, gramps!
GARROSH: Yeah, okay, it’s fine. I’m not thrilled about the gnome thing, but whatever, I’m a professional. I’ll rise above it.
UTVOCH: Most inconceivable of you, sir—
GARROSH: <smacks Utvoch> We’ve been through this before about you and that word.
UTVOCH: Sorry, sir…
GARROSH: Okay, so fine, your little pipsqueak friend can be our contact.
CHROMIE: Woot!
GARROSH: But what was that thing about complications?
NOZDORMU: Well, Warchief, time is, after all, a rather complex and delicate thing, and one must be rather cautious when traversing its pathways. A certain, shall we say, delicacy and finesse is called for.
GARROSH: Dude, I am all about the fucking finesse. Right, guys?
Crickets.
NOZDORMU: At…any rate. You must simply take care not to interfere with past events more than is absolutely necessary. Speaking generally, you should not underestimate the potential impact of seemingly minor actions. You cannot imagine the magnitude of the consequences that can unfold from even a minor alteration in the timeline. More specifically, you will be traveling to a time and place that witnessed certain crucial events that cannot be disrupted…
GARROSH: Yeah, okay, that shouldn’t be a problem, this is 90% a fact-finding mission anyway, so…
NOZDORMU: So you say, and I do not doubt your intentions. But you must take care not to do anything that might interfere with certain key events playing out as they were meant to. Specifically, for one, the forging of the Ashbringer. You will be witnessing the fulcrum of an intricate convergence of events, which cannot be disturbed. The crystal carried by the eldest Mograine represents the spark which sets in motion events that must occur; this cannot be undermined.
GARROSH: Okay, check. No smashy-smashy on the crystal. Anything else?
NOZDORMU: One other matter. The reason, in fact, that this particular time portal was opened in the first place. You will be arriving at the moment in history when a young Thrall escapes from his human captors in Durnholde Keep. It is the singular event without which the Horde as it now exists…would not.
GARROSH: Wait, I get why that’s an event we can’t fuck around with, but why would you have opened a portal there if it’s so important that nobody interfere with it?
NOZDORMU: Because someone already did.
GARROSH: The what you say?
MOKVAR: I swear these time loop stories make my head hurt.
NOZDORMU: Agents of the Infinite Dragonflight had attempted to prevent Thrall’s escape, in order to…well, suffice to say, they sought to alter the timeline to ill effect. Some time ago, the bronze flight in my absence elicited the aid of a group of adventurers to travel back to this point in history and ensure that events played out as they should.
GARROSH: Okay…but, in that case, you already have people there keeping tabs on things, right? And they succeeded. We’re all here, and the Horde’s still here, so Thrall escaped and the world didn’t go kablooey or whatever, so your people did their job there and it’s a done deal, isn’t it?
NOZDORMU: It won’t be when you’re there. Those events are past to us, yes. And they have happened – now. But when you step through the portal, they will be as real and present to you as this conversation is now.
MOKVAR: Yeah, see, I really should have brought some aspirin.
GARROSH: I mean, yeah, I get that we’ll be seeing things happening live and in person. But if we’re sitting here having this conversation, that means whatever we end up doing there DOESN’T change anything, right? I mean, say you send me to the past. It’s still the past. So if I DID accidentally change things, wouldn’t we already know?
NOZDORMU: Except the actions you take in old Hillsbrad aren’t only the past. They are also, from our point of view in this moment, your future. Those events remain unchanged, until you actually change them. And only then do the ripples spread to the present.
LIADRIN: This is actually kind of fascinating.
NOZDORMU: Have you ever experienced déjà vu, Garrosh? Or had a memory that was so vivid and real to you, even though you knew, objectively knew for a fact, that the events didn’t happen the way you so clearly remember them?
GARROSH: Well, yeah, I guess…
NOZDORMU: That’s time rewriting itself. It happens all around us, constantly, in countless tiny ways we never notice except the cracks that flicker in the corners of our eyes. Well, you don’t notice. It’s all I ever see.
CHROMIE: Here we go, skipper, time for your favorite speech!
NOZDORMU: It’s what all of my flight sees, really; I simply have the most sensitive perception. When I look at you, Garrosh, I don’t just see you as you are now. I see everything you’ve done, everything you might do, everything you must do. They’re all written in your face, every minute, and with every choice you make, some of the endless possibilities reshape themselves, others melt away… Every single one of you here, accompanied constantly by an army of past and possible selves. Almost as if there were a thousand of you standing right here before me, Garrosh.
MOKVAR: Don’t let Garona hear that, can you imagine—
GARROSH: If you finish that sentence, I will END you.
LIADRIN: I’m…missing a lot of context for you people, aren’t I?
FARANELL: Don’t worry about it too much. I’m still pretty new, too. You catch up fast.
DONTRAG: Ohhh, I get it, you mean about how Garona’s been trying to—
UTVOCH: SHUT IT, nobody cares about her rolling an alt.
FARANELL: For instance, they’re idiots.
LIADRIN: Well yes, I gathered that much.
GARROSH: ANYWAY.
DONTRAG: No, not her alt, I mean—
GARROSH: <pummel>
DONTRAG: OWW!!
GARROSH: So okay, I think I get it. Past events can always change, time revises itself right out from under us when they do, but some events have to stay put. So say, like with what you were saying about looking at me and seeing my past and future… Like say next Tuesday I’m going to slip on a banana peel, but me falling on my ass sets off some other events that are really important, so even if you want to, you can’t be like “Hey Garrosh, watch out for the banana peel.” Because there’s some stuff in my future that HAS to happen.
Nozdormu stares at Garrosh somberly for a moment.
NOZDORMU: I think you grasp the basic idea, yes.
GARROSH: Oh so hey, is that why everybody’s just accepting how eventually you HAVE to go Murozond on us and cause all that trouble with the Infinite Dragonflight yourself?
NOZDORMU: Hey, listen, if you want to start poring over people’s misguided futures, I can—
CHROMIE: Whoa, whoa, cool down a little, boss! Ix-nay on the iege-say, right?
NOZDORMU: Ahem. Yes, yes, of course.
GARROSH: Umm, the hell was that shit about?
NOZDORMU: Hmm. One moment.
Nozdormu closes his eyes and takes on an expression of intense focus.
.tnemom enO .mmH :UMRODZON
?tuoba tihs taht saw lleh eht ,mmU :HSORRAG
.esruoc fo ,sey ,seY .mehA :UMRODZON
?thgir ,yas-egei eht no yan-xI !ssob ,elttil a nwod looc ,aohw, aohW :EIMORHC
—nac I ,serutuf dediugsim s’elpoep revo gnirop trats ot tnaw uoy fi ,netsil ,yeH :UMRODZON
?flesruoy thgilfnogarD etinifnI eht htiw elbuort lla esuac dna su no dnozoruM og ot EVAH uoy yllautneve woh gnitpecca tsuj s’ydobyreve yhw taht si ,yeh os hO :HSORRAG
GARROSH: Oh so hey, is that why everybody’s just accepting how eventually you HAVE to go Murozond on us and cause all that trouble with the Infinite Dragonflight yourself?
NOZDORMU: Yes, basically.
CHROMIE: Whew. That’s better.
NOZDORMU: Much.
CHROMIE: Why dodge a bullet when you can wind it back into the chamber, right?
NOZDORMU: Indeed.
GARROSH: Uh, what are you two babbling about?
NOZDORMU: Oh, nothing you need concern yourself with. Shall we start making preparations for you to begin your mission? There are a few small specifics we’ll need to go over.
GARROSH: Yeah, sure… Hey, actually, did I ask you that thing about Murozond before?
NOZDORMU: No, I don’t think so.
GARROSH: Huh, weird. Déjà vu.
We’re getting ourselves set to take the trip shortly. Mostly making sure we have any supplies we might need, getting a general briefing on what we’re allowed to “know” and “not know” if we talk to anyone in the other timeframe, all that fun stuff. Also, to make sure we blend in, The Noz says when we go through the portal we’ll be affected by a glamour that will make us look like we’re human. Not exactly a pleasant thought, but I can see why it’s necessary. Still, I hope whatever human form I get ends up being a LITTLE palatable. I don’t want to go literally strolling down memory lane looking like an asshole.
