Tag Archives: dranosh
Kypari Zar
FOUR: FATHER TO THE MAN
* Lok’osh was one of Garrosh’s trainees and an original member of the DPS unit. While on maneuvers in Krasarang Wilds, Lok’osh and the other trainees found themselves trapped in a series of underground caves inhabited by saurok. In one altercation with the saurok, Lok’osh was killed.
** After Garrosh found the trainees and led them to safety, the group laid Lok’osh’s remains to rest here.
Monday mailbag
You know, for once I’m glad I put off checking on the latest batch of mail. The way it ended up working out, I just had a bunch of it piled up waiting for attention. (NOT UNLIKE MY GROUPIES, but that’s a story for another day) just in time for the trip back to Pandaria. So, the long boat trip wound up giving me the damn time I needed to finally get around to reading your letters and working up some responses. So, let’s get right into it…
I want to complain about your minions, the kind-of-Orc-twins whose names I didn’t care to remember.
I am a Draenei lady and am deeply worried about their fascination for hooves, or hooftishism as they called it. What if they’re starting a trend? It is annoying enough to deal with the butt fetishists, we don’t need people who will try to lick our hooves on top of that.
Please make sure that they don’t organize meetings to share their passion with their fellows. Think that your daughter too could, one day, be harassed by hooftishists.
Archenon poros,
–Celesti.
Okay, so first of all, Celesti, I’m glad you specified the “kind-of-Orc-twins” part, because if you’d left it at “I have complaints about you minions, whose names I didn’t care enough about to remember,” well, number one, that’d be way too broad to narrow down, and number two, guess what, “minions I don’t care enough about to remember their names” pretty much covers how I feel about a large chunk of my payroll, so, you know, there’s that.
So, yeah. Dontrag and Utvoch. Although… okay, this might be yet another example of the “shit I don’t care enough about to pay attention to” corollary, but I seem to remember hearing somewhere along the line that it’s only one of them who has the weird fascination with hooves. Don’t ask me which one, though. Or which one of them that one is.
But yeah. Those two. Or one of those two. Believe me, this complaint you’re registering is way, way down on the list of reasons why I find them damn annoying. It ranks, I’ll grant you that, but it doesn’t even crack the top five reasons I want to smack them in the head sometimes. And by “sometimes,” I mean three times daily, usually just after meals, with two optional time slots for further smacking in the event I’m having an aggravating day. That is, when I’m not tossing their asses overboard.
Speaking of priorities, actually… Not for nothing, but considering you’re a draenei, I would figure that your biggest complaint about a couple of Horde soldiers wouldn’t be the hoof fetish thing nearly as much as the trying-to-kill-you thing. Where the hell did you even run into those two, that the hoof thing even came up?
Wait. Are you telling me that you crossed paths with these jokers, and they got so preoccupied with their unwholesome hoof thing that they forgot about getting down to some wholesome BLOODSHED?
So yeah. Okay. I think that means it’s time for my 2:00 smacking. Except they’re still kind of preoccupied swimming frantically to keep up with the boat. Guess I’ll just have to above deck and throw stuff at them for the time being.
I’ve been kept up to date with Blackfuse’s time as engineer for the Horde. I knew he’d be a big help as long as you could get him under control. With any luck he’ll give you the big badda-boom hardware you need to blast the Alliance back.
Got a sitrep from the Isle of Giants, by the way. Nazgrim’s got me working on finding some more Zandalari tomes that talk about how to tame and use Dinosaurs. The good news is, I’ve found some, and the more intelligent beastmasters have been putting them to good use; the bad news is, they’re very hard to find, so most of our progress has been capturing and packaging baby raptors and Devilsaurs to send back to the Orgrimmar beast pens. The big and mean ones already grown up have been a chore and a half to even talk to without getting munched, but slowly but surely we’re making progress
One last thing: I’ve heard Zandalari whispers of a really big, really mean Devilsaur who puts Oondasta to shame. I think his name was Thok the Bloodthirsty or something like that. Sounds like your kind of dinosaur, sir, if you catch my drift.
Your man on the ground,
–Grottee Metalbeard, Goblin Shaman
Hey Grottee, glad to hear you made it back down to Pandaria without incident. WISH I COULD SAY THE SAME. HE SAID, WHILE TURNING AN ATTENTIVE EAR TOWARD A PORTHOLE TO LISTEN TO THE PLAINTIVE GROANS OF MORONS SWIMMING.
Glad to hear you guys are making progress with the dinos, and that Nazgrim hasn’t gotten any bright ideas about going off script again. Who knows, maybe that jackass red shirt Steve was the only member of Naz’s crew afflicted with that particular level of jackassery, so we’ll have smooth sailing from here on out. HE SAID, AS IF HE HASN’T BEEN WATCHING HIS STAFF OF MENTAL DEFECTIVES GIVE IT THE OL’ COMMUNITY COLLEGE TRY FOR A COUPLE YEARS NOW. Anyhow, as long as things are coming along. At this point I’m just glad we’re making any progress at all, even if it’s slow, considering the way things have been going, I could swear sometimes our fastest speed was reverse.
As for that Oondasta-trumping devilsaur, I think I remember you mentioning something about it once before. I’m pretty sure I included something about it in the notes I left for Nazgrim, but I guess when he decided to run with that cunning plan that led to ol’ shithead Steve’s untimely demise (maybe the one positive to come out of the whole damn affair), his people weren’t able to locate Thog or whatever, so he just went with the devilsaur that was easier to find.
Which raises a question. If this Thunk dino is as big and bad as you’re saying, Grottee, how the hell does it manage to be elusive? I mean, how the fuck does a DEVILSAUR pull off STEALTHY? Is there a goddamn sauropod ROGUE TRAINER down there teaching them to go WHOOSH WHOOSH MOSTLY TRANSPARENT? Do they, like, hold a piece of a shrub in front of themselves in their doofy little front claws with a fucking sign that says “Just a shrub, move along, citizen”? Hell, it’s not even like the Isle of Giants is a big place, from what they tell me — there couldn’t be THAT many places to hide. How the hell does this motherfucker manage to fucking ELUDE everyone?!
My apologies for the difficulties with Golmash last week. I’m afraid his behaviour caught even me off-guard. I was afraid that wolf would be the death of me, but instead it seems he was the death of one of your beastmasters.
At any rate, since his dramatic departure from my pens, I have been having strange and frightening dreams. In them, I am standing at the entrance to my home on a dark night, when a horrifying sight appears before me – a ghostly orc, his face twisted and scarred, his eyes glowing with terrible power. I hear him speaking to me in a ghastly, croaky voice, but I have no idea what he is saying. His words sound like Orcish, but mean nothing to me. The only thing that clearly comes across is that he is angry, as he grabs me by the shirt and shakes me while screaming in his unknown tongue.
I have no idea what is causing these dreams or what they mean, but they are connected to Golmash somehow. I just know it. Whatever comes of this, Warchief, I only hope it happens quickly, for these dreams are stripping my nights of much-needed sleep.
Your humble servant,
–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master
Hey Ogunaro. Good to hear from you. Even if you’re… you know… dealing with… well… this thing. And… well… um… you know what, O? I’m going to ask you to do me a favor here and just skip the next paragraph. I just remembered I, um, I need to insert some stuff that I meant to include in a previous letter and I, uh, I can’t just scroll up and insert while I’m typing this… um… well, because… because, oh come on, you know me and computers, right? I can’t even remember where the damn delete key is, and here I am on a boat without Spazzle around to fix this crap for me, oh woe is me, and ANYWAY that’s not even the point, the point is, see, that this extra stuff I need to insert has nothing to do with you but I really need to get it written down before I forget, because scatterbrained me, oops, you know how it goes, but I don’t want to bother you with it ’cause I know you already have enough on your plate what with, you know, the thing. So just do me a solid and skip that next paragraph so I don’t need to worry about you, and pick up again right AFTER that, right where it says “MELLIFLUOUS.” So there. Go to it. Skip starting… now.
Okay. So you guys, we need to talk. I didn’t want O listening in on this, because, you know, we — like the you and me “we,” not the Ogunaro and me “we,” and FUCK YOU PRONOUN AMBIGUITY — we have a history, and we’re cool and shit, but I don’t even know what dude’s deal is, you know? And you probably already know where I’m going with this, right? Because I’m starting to get that vibe that our buddy Ogunaro, I mean I like him all and I appreciate the work he does, but I’m starting to get the feeling like he’s one of THOSE guys. You know how I mean? Those guys where there’s ALWAYS fucking SOMETHING, like one goddamn thing after another and after a while you can’t even tell where the real crises are because EVERYTHING gets the ol’ emergency blinker cranked up to fucking eleven. Is it just me? It’s his whole goddamn family, too, near as I can tell. Well, the alive ones, anyway. But who can even say for sure on that one, either, because necromancy, motherfucker. Fingers crossed. So anyway, I just had to say something to you guys because we have a thing, but I’m for real not going to know what to do with this dude if this shit keeps up. Okay. That’s it. Don’t say anything to him. Sshh, here he comes.
MELLIFLUOUS. Which is a goddamn awesome word, by the way. Try it out sometime. And if you get a chance to have Nazgrim say it, you totally have to. He knows how to sell that shit, man. Anyway. Welcome back, O. See, wasn’t that a lot faster and easier and less insulting than having to wade through a bunch of other stuff that you definitely weren’t interested in? Hot damn, good thing I wrote it all down before I forgot, hell I don’t even remember what it was NOW. GOT IN THERE JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME, O. THAT WAS A FUCKING CLOSE ONE.
Anyhow, yeah, O, that’s some freaky shit in that dream. I can’t say I’m much of an expert in making sense of what dreams mean, though. Maybe there’s something to this dream with the ghostly visitor, maybe it’s got something to do with Golmash, maybe not. If it has something to do with the wolf, we’ll figure it out, especially now that we’ve got him secured and under close observation. If not… well, we’ll see. It might be worth getting some feedback from a shaman or two, just the same. And for the time being, just to make sure you can get a little sleep without going bonkers, maybe it’s a good idea to see if you can get something from an apothecary to help you sleep a little deeper. Just don’t take anything from an apothecary with a recently refurbished jaw who’s really sarcastic all the time, because trust me, there’s no telling what he might have slipped into that shit.
I am researching the cultures of the Horde, especially naming customs. Most of the Forsaken kept the human names we were born with. A few decided to adopt new names but most of those were pretty grimdark and silly. The less said about them the better.
What naming customs do the Orcs have? Are family names passed through the father? the mother? Does you’re name mean something?
Curiously yours –
–Ickabod Pimlen, The Undercity.
Thanks for writing, Ickabod. Although, whew. “Ickabod Pimlen.” Not to be shitty to you right out the gate, Ickabod, but as long as there was already a thing going where some of the Forsaken picked a new name for themselves, I mean, maybe you should have looked into that. “Pimlen” was already not exactly a winner of a last name, but your parents really decided to top that off by naming you “Ickabod” to boot? Seriously? Yeesh, and people call ME a war criminal…
Anyway, now for your question, Ickabod. Naming customs aren’t consistent across the whole orcish race — like most of our customs and traditions naming varies with the individual clans. For instance, some clans, like the Frostwolves, rarely take on surnames. The Thunderlord clan usually does, on the other hand, and they pass those along generation to generation. Typically, but not always, patrilineally. (THAT’S RIGHT, PATRILINEALLY, MOTHERFUCKER, STOP LOOKING SURPRISED THAT I KNOW FUCKING WORDS.)
With some clans, though, last names are given in recognition of some sort of accomplishment. That’s how it works in the Warsong clan, for instance. My grandfather, Golmash (we’ve been hearing that name a lot lately, huh?), gained the name Hellscream for the battle cry he brought into a long string of victorious battles, and he passed that name on to Grommash, who passed it on to me.
Only, there’s a catch — see, in clans that use these names as a kind of honorific, there can only be one person at a time using it. So back when Golmash was alive, you wouldn’t talk about Golmash Hellscream AND Grom Hellscream. There can only be one Hellscream. That was Golmash, until he died. After that, his oldest child (in this case, his only child) could take on the name. I didn’t start using the full name until after I found out about Grom’s death — if you ran into me in Nagrand back in the day (and for your sake I hope you didn’t, because hoo boy was I an emo piece of work back then), I was just going by Garrosh.
Same thing for the Blackrock clan, by the way. Rend Blackhand was just plain ol’ Rend until daddy Blackhand (did dude ever actually have a NAME name, by the way?) bought it, just like Orgrim Doomhammer didn’t become Doomhammer until after his father Telkar died. Ditto for the Saurfangs, by the way, even though that one got a little muddier. See, while Dranosh was growing up with me in Nagrand, no one really knew what had become of Varok, but it was a pretty wide-held idea that he’d probably died. Dranosh wasn’t really sure what to believe, but he wanted to honor the family name… but he also wasn’t really sure if his old man had actually joined the ancestors. So he kind of half-wayed it and started calling himself “Saurfang the Younger.” After the family got reunited a few years back, we just kind of kept calling them both Saurfang in one way or another, just out of habit. Moot point now, I know.
Oh and since you asked, my name means “warrior’s heart” in orcish. (I won’t offer to explain what “Dranosh” means, though, because fuck it, I’m pretty sure we’ve all been over that enough times already.)
So THERE. I bet that’s more about orcish names than you ever wanted to know. EXCEPT FOR ICKABOD, WHO ASKED ABOUT IT IN THE FIRST PLACE, SO IF YOU’RE GONNA COMPLAIN TO ANYBODY, DO IT WITH HIM, DAMMIT.
I apologize for not finding the Command Board sooner, as you know I actually found it by accident. After talking with some friends I found out that they didn’t know about it either. Then I went to Orgrimar to see if I could find an Advertising Department. Unfortunately the guards that seem to know everything, except if something is on level one or two, did not know of this department.
Because of this I volunteer to be your Advertising Department. Here is the first line of merchandise that I came up with: Tabards. Most people wear them, especially those “adventurers” and we know that they will pay near anything if it looks cool. The other day I saw one buy a baby raptor for 100000 gold. Luckily there are less insane groups we can market to as well, shop keepers and flight masters will wear them as well as many military groups, Liadrin has all of us Blood Knights wear ours at all times.
But I can hear many people saying what will be on these tabards. Good thing I thought of that. So far I have ideas for three tabards all with the Warcheif’s Command Board on the back. First we have “Buy our shit, OR BE CRUSHED BENEATH IT!” with a picture of an orc buried under a ton of merchandise. Then there is “Fuck You Varian”, self explanitory. And finally EPIC VERSE with many of your epic verses all over the tabard.
Unfortunately I don’t have an artistic bone in my body and I haven’t found anyone that does so I can’t give you any visuals of the tabards. If you give me the go ahead on this I can get to work on new techniques by next month.
–Glen Bloodblade
Hey, Glen, glad to hear from you again. So, I’m going to excuse you for not following the blog until recently, even though we both know you already should have been following the blog before you found it accidentally. In fact, what the hell is this “accidentally” shit? You should have found it DELIBERATELY, as a result of PURPOSEFULLY SEARCHING for a blog you didn’t know existed. Because you could feel it in your bones, Glen. You could feel it in your bones.
Anyway, I’m going to let that slide. Just don’t do it again. Yes, I just told you not to not find the blog that you’re currently reading, again, which might sound like a weird thing to warn someone not to do, until you stop for a second to consider the crazy-ass world we live in, because FUCKING TIME TRAVEL. All I’m gonna tell you, Glen, is if you see any bronze dragons coming your way, or maybe a blood elf lady in a bikini dress, well, you just get ready to think fast is all I’m going to say.
Anyhow. You know, Glen, you might be on to something. After your last letter, I did some checking around, and the fact of the matter is that we don’t have a department in charge of publicity or advertising or whatever. Which I guess makes sense, since it turns out that the Kor’kron aren’t exactly in the habit of making public announcements about what they’re doing. At least not if they know what’s good for them.
Now, to tell you the truth, I hadn’t really given a lot of thought to advertising the blog. I mean, I always figured people would just find their way to the blog however people do shit like that on the internet. And I remember having a conversation with Faranell once about it maybe going viral. Although, looking back on it now, considering it WAS Faranell, I think I might have severely misunderstood what he was meant. I maybe shouldn’t think about that too much.
But back to your real point. You may be right — it might be a good idea to come up with ways to drive some more traffic to the blog. And here’s the thing — your tabard idea could actually be even more of a winner than you realize, because check it out, it opens the door not only for ADVERTISING, but also… MERCHANDISING. Tabards sound like a great way to start, and they’ll sure as hell get the word around, but who knows how much other stuff we could get into. Hell, even just with the tabards, if we produce a bunch of different versions, do you REALIZE how many compulsive collectors are out there who will go fucking NUTS trying to hunt down every last variation? Dude, I’ve seen it myself — people burning up hours of time and mountains of gold to try to land themselves, say, a scorpid pet that’s a SLIGHTLY different color than the seven scorpid pets they ALREADY FRIGGING HAVE. I can only imagine what some of them would do for the RARE CHASE VARIANT of the Garrosh blog tabard. Wait, did I say “rare”? FUCK THAT SHIT — EPIC!
So, yeah, HELL YEAH, run with this idea, Glen. You have some ideas, go for it, man. And hey, for that matter, I know you said you haven’t got any artistic skills, but AS IT HAPPENS, I may just have an in with some people who DO. Not just in-house, either, if you were thinking of Gurtash — WHO YOU WOULD BE RIGHT TO THINK. OF. — but even among the ranks of my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS. I’ll bet you anything that there are people among the CLEARLY TALENTED AND DISCRIMINATING CROWD that reads the Warchief’s Command Board who would be ONLY TOO HAPPY to offer their own artsy-fartsy designs for WCB tabards. ESPECIALLY WHEN I ORDER THEM TO AND REMIND THEM THAT I HAVE A TECH GOBLIN HACKER WHO’S ABLE TO TRACE IP’S. WHICH I TOTALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE BUT HE DOES AND THAT’S WHAT COUNTS, OKAY?
And on that note, I think it’s time to wrap it up for this mailbag. Keep those letters coming as always. For next time, though, since I’m going to be pretty swamped with stuff in Pandaria, I managed to convince Shayari to hold down the fort again for the next mailbag. So, write in to her, or still write in to me for the next time I’m able to field your letters myself. Either way, write SOMETHING. Ideally MULTIPLE somethings. I WILL BE TAKING DOCUMENTARY ATTENDANCE, MOTHERFUCKERS.
More soon.
[PROGRAMMING NOTE: As you can tell from Garrosh’s announcement, the next mailbag will be a guest mailbag with Shayari. However, I also wanted to announce that I’ve decided to take a short break at the end of the month that will affect the upcoming mailbag schedule. As many of you will remember, the last few years I’ve taken a blogging break late in the summer due to a busy work schedule; this year, I’ve decided to move that hiatus up to earlier in the summer and use some of that time to get material in the pipeline.
So, blog hijinks will continue as usual through the end of May, then we’ll be off for a few weeks. Then, on July 11 (since the first Monday in July this year is a holiday, I figured there was no harm in pushing it back for one more week), we’ll be back with Shayari’s guest mailbag, and from there we’ll be off and running.
As always, thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, and contributing!]
And, if we turn a blind eye to who’s still around canonically…
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
VAROK SAURFANG
VS.
THE LICH KING
BEGIN!
LICH KING:
I find the irony delightful and the arrogance sublime
For you to hope in my domain that you could wield the coldest rhymes.
You’ll learn the meaning of fear now, and the chill of the grave;
Not a soul is going to help you – they’re all trapped in my blade.
Every foe that I defeat is a new minion to employ;
You say you named him Dranosh – do you miss your little boy?
I kill fathers and sons; I’ve already slayed the Younger.
Now it’s dinner time, orc…and Frostmourne hungers.
SAURFANG:
You can save your strangulation, its rotation’s gonna switch,
For it seems that Varok Saurfang’s going to have to choke a lich.
Your runeblade has a name and people tremble while beholding;
You know why they fear my axe? It’s the one Saurfang is holding.
Sucking souls; your own: unneeded. Uther’s warning went unheeded.
You might once have been the heir, but you never once succeeded.
You’re the king of Frozen Thrones, but your chilling’s getting thawed,
’Cause I’m the one both factions turn to when they need to kill a god.
LICH KING:
<channeling a spell>
I’d stay to slay you, orc, but there’re things I need to do.
Falric! Marwyn! Bring me his corpse when you’re through.
[The Lich King summons Falric and Marwyn, then exits up a hallway.]
FALRIC:
By your order, my liege!
MARWYN:
This invader shall fall!
FALRIC:
Now your humble soldiers rise to meet their master’s call.
Your despair is so delicious and your fear exhilarating.
Your reputation might precede you, but it’s textbook overrating.
It’s two against one orc and even you can do the math:
Your fate will be no different – none are spared the master’s wrath.
MARWYN:
When the master ravaged Stratholme we were standing by his side,
And we saw the look Terenas made that moment as he died.
Your rhymes are weak as Silvermoon when master went attacking.
Now we’ve surveyed our enemy, and we have found him lacking.
SAURFANG:
I don’t waste my time on red-shirts but since Arthas had to leave,
Come at me, boys, in double file – now eat my verbal
CLEAVE.
While your king walks afar
You others cover and flock
To spar, but I’ll knock ajar
One and another and block – so far
Your knocks may shock on par
To smother and sock and scar
But your talk and mocks won’t mar
The brother of Broxigar.
You took all your best shots but every one of them missed;
You’re getting schooled, children –
[Saurfang cleaves both Falric and Marwyn’s heads off with one swing.]
Now class is dismissed.
[Saurfang heroic leaps into the next room, where the Lich King is holding Jaina Proudmoore and Sylvanas Windrunner at bay.]
You don’t get away that easy, no escape from pending loss;
I just took out the trash, so now you’d better be a boss.
Orc dictator, human traitor, “See you later,” what a “hero.”
So you run, “Now we are one,” but when I’m done, you will be zero.
LICH KING:
No questions stay unanswered; you’re the answer to my plans;
For clearly yours are verses greatest of the also-rans —
You know your place, I’ll grant you, rallied by your leader’s pennant:
Such a hero, such a legend, such a permanent lieutenant.
If ambition drove your mission, its commission might unnerve us,
But you’ve cleared the way, and now you’ll stay forever in my service:
Dead, deployed, to destroy, like your son with death to bring:
In the last, when you’ve passed, you will all serve the king.
WHO WON?
WHO’S NEXT?
YOU DECIDE!
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
LIVE BLOG: Ask Garrosh Anything!
Here we go! As promised a few days ago, tonight the Warchief of the Horde (current or former, depending on how you count, because timey-whimey), Garrosh Hellscream, will answer any questions you’d care to throw at him! If you can see this post, then the floor is now open for questions. You can submit your question to the Warchief through any number of means: as a comment on this post, an e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com, a tweet to @GarroshHllscrm, an inquiry posted to Ask.fm, or a message through Garrosh’s Facebook or Google+ (feel free to add him on any and all of these, by the way!).
As I’ve noted before, there are a few simple ground rules for questions:
- No spoilers! Garrosh’s blog incarnation is currently living out the events of the Patch 5.2 timeframe. If you’d like to include some sort of comical nod or foreshadowing toward future events in your question, feel free! But questions explicitly referencing events that have not yet occurred in the blog will not be answered.
- No anonymous questions will be answered. You can submit your question under your in-game character name, a blogging pseudonym, a Twitter handle, whatever, but there must be an author to whom your question can be attributed.
- This should probably go without saying, but no questions will be answered that are clearly engaged in harassing, trolling (not you, Bob), antagonizing, or generally disregarding the fun intentions of the endeavor. Questions that seem to disregard, willfully or accidentally, the fundamental premises of the blog (check here for the basics, here if you’re feeling ambitious) will either be ignored or, perhaps, answered in a…derisive manner.
How it works: The live blog proper will begin at 8:30 PM EST (give or take a few minutes). All questions will be added to this post. Refresh this page periodically to check for updates! I expect some responses will come quickly, while others may take a little longer, depending on what sort of response is called for.
While I will never alter the substance of your question, I reserve the right to make minor edits to correct errors (i.e., you refer to Spazzle when you clearly mean Gurtash) or to delete something spoiler-ish from an otherwise good question.
I plan to keep going for as long as I have questions that I think will be interesting and entertaining to answer, so keep them coming! While I plan to try to answer as many questions as possible, I make no guarantee or promise that any individual question will get a response (i.e., I reserve the right to pick and choose which one I answer). When the blog is finished for the night, Garrosh will explicitly announce that, so if there hasn’t been a “Good night, everyone!” type of statement, you can assume there’s still more on the way.
So, with all the quasi-legal technicalities out of the way… Get to it! Ask away! Answers to begin once ol’ you-know-who makes his glorious arrival…
* * * * *
HERE WE GO, BITCHES! Brace your mind and hold on to your ass, because it’s time for yours truly, the one-and-only GARROSH HELLSCREAM, to answer ALL THE QUESTIONS YOU WERE AFRAID TO ASK. Except I guess you weren’t. Because you asked them. SO NICE JOB NOT BEING A BUNCH OF FUCKING PANSIES RIGHT OUT THE GATE.
Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here. Keep ’em coming as you think of ’em…
What do you consider your biggest non-combat achievement? –Zugzug
There are non-combat achievements?
I kid, I kid. Well, not really. But whatever, I should still come up with a kinda-real answer.
You probably wouldn’t see this achievement coming, but: First runner-up in the seventh annual Garadar chili cook-off. Which was amended to first place after… well, something unfortunate happened to original-winner Grok’nar. (My best to his widow.) (And I do mean my best.)
See, this might come as a surprise, but your Warchief isn’t half bad as a cook. As a matter of fact, one of the things I had to get used to when I became Warchief was having OTHER people cooking for me. I was never used to having other people serving me. Just felt weird. Still does. Even up in Northrend, I usually chipped in on odd chores around Warsong Hold if I didn’t have more urgent things to do — as much as I was tough on the troops up on there, I think it was kinda good for morale for them to see I didn’t think I was too good to get my hands dirty with the stuff I was asking them to do. Anyway, every so often I would sneak into the kitchen and help them whip up a few things, even then. I actually found it pretty relaxing. Well, except for Saurfang and his damn picky menu. No pork my ass.
Warchief Garrosh Hellscream,
After invading my kingdom in the most brutal manner possible, killing my son, forcing my general and lifelong friend Crowley to surrender by holding his daughter hostage and carving a bloody swath through my people’s ranks, it recently came to my attention that Sylvanas Windrunner, leader of the Forsaken who count themselves among your number, has been using full-strength Blight – which you yourself banned – and kidnapped one Koltira Deathweaver away to the Undercity for torture and brainwashing, according to my informants (who shall remain nameless). In short, she has revealed herself to be an enemy of the Alliance and a liability to the Horde, of wich you are warchief.
So my question is: What are you going to DO about her?!
With all due respect,
–Genn Graymane, King of Gilneas
Does anyone smell wet dog in here, or is it just me?
Oh, wait, it’s Genn. He must have picked up that stink from hanging around Varian all day.
Anyway. Let’s take this a little at a time:
After invading my kingdom in the most brutal manner possible,
Sounds like a good start.
killing my son,
That’ll teach him to keep his guard up.
forcing my general and lifelong friend Crowley to surrender by holding his daughter hostage
Can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.
and carving a bloody swath through my people’s ranks,
Not seeing a problem so far.
it recently came to my attention that Sylvanas Windrunner, leader of the Forsaken who count themselves among your number,
Your grasp of current events as of like eight years ago is impeccable.
has been using full-strength Blight – which you yourself banned –
The WHAT you say?
and kidnapped one Koltira Deathweaver away to the Undercity for torture and brainwashing,
Holy fucking shit, is THAT where that motherfucker went?!
according to my informants (who shall remain nameless).
I… okay, hang on. Here’s where you’re starting to chase your tail. So to speak. Okay, so you’re telling me, SOME PEOPLE, who YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHO THEY ARE OR HOW THEY KNOW THIS SHIT, BUT OH BOY BELIEVE ME, THEY SURE KNOW WHAT THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT, these people tell you blah blah blah Sylvanas? And so…you’re asking me, what, if I’m going to lay the smackdown on her or something? And, say, go attack the Forsaken or some shit, who by COMPLETE COINCIDENCE happen to be the same people who KICKED YOUR ASS, only now I’m going to go after them because OH NO YOU DON’T LIKE SYLVANAS?
Well, get in line, chief. Nobody likes Sylvanas. Other the people who are already dead, but that’s their damage. And for real, I’m not going to break off one chunk of the Horde and go stage, what? a civil war or some shit against ANOTHER major part of the Horde, just because I think their leader’s kind of a jerk.
Come on, who’s going to be a big enough asshat to play THAT card?
Do you have a sure fire cure for head aches? –Toka
The only one I’ve found that works pretty consistently is that once Dontrag and Utvoch get going with their damn yammering, and going on and on about whatever the fuck they’re saying, and the headache starts kicking in, you watch them pretty close — I know it might hurt your eyes a little at first, but hang in there, you’ve gotta push through that part — and then when you see them position themselves good and close, you reach over and smack their heads together good and hard. I can’t stress this enough: you can’t be shy about really putting a good CRACK into cracking them together. Then, worst case scenario, they’ll usually shut up for a little while, or better yet at least one of them will lose consciousness for at least an hour or two. Plus when they come to, seems like they end up suffering some really killer headaches themselves, which, you know, poetic justice. SMACKED DOWN BY IRONY, BITCHES.
Of course, if your particular headaches aren’t D&U related, I don’t know what to tell you. <shrug>
Do you believe in ghosts? —@RuekieShaman
I… Hang on.
You’re asking me…if I believe in ghosts?
Rook, what planet do you live on? We have an entire fucking FACTION of the Horde that keeps ghosts around as fucking bankers and shit. Every been to Stratholme? Scholomance? Like fifteen other places I can think of right off the top of my head? Dude, I had the ghost of my MOM following me around for a few weeks like a year ago! Where have YOU been?
So you know what? Let me see your “do you believe in ghosts?” question and raise you this one:
Do you believe in goblins?
What do you do to relax? –LazyPeon
Well, let’s see. Writing the ol’ EPIC VERSE can be a good way to unwind, unless I write myself into one of those corners where there’s something I want to say but I can’t come up with something that rhymes with “orange,” because who the fuck had the bright idea to invent a word that like NOTHING rhymes with. And when I have a little down time between meetings and missions of conquest and, you know, tax audits and shit, back when I was starting as Warchief, I used to sneak in a few games of cribbage with Eitrigg. Only that old guy was way too good at that game, so he usually won, and that wasn’t exactly so great for my mood. Lately I’ve been trying to teach Malkorok how to play, but I mean, he’s good at his job and all but overall he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, and so I end up having to repeat myself a lot, and re-explain things, and that pisses me off a lot, too. Pretty much the only thing I can think of that I found consistently relaxing, actually, was doing some barbecuing, or whipping up a big pot of something, but like I was saying a few questions ago, since becoming Warchief I haven’t had that much of a chance to do much cooking myself. So there goes that one.
Um. So I guess the point is that apparently I have a pretty fucking stressful life. Thanks for reminding me, peon. Fuck.
What are you going to do when Shay wants to date? What if it is the Black Prince? Or Prince Anduin? –Zugzug
I…
…
DON’T EVEN JOKE ABOUT THAT SHIT
ESPECIALLY THE LAST PART OF THAT SHIT
WHICH IS SHITTY SHIT EVEN BY SHIT STANDARDS HOLY SHIT
…
The fuck is WRONG with you people coming up with this stuff?!
So…excuse me a minute. I think I need to go sharpen Gorehowl.
[OOC aside, because I love to tease: There is an upcoming comic, already written and partially sketched out, involving Shayari bringing a prospective boyfriend to meet Garrosh. Yes, really.]
Out of sheer curiosity, any other pastry loves *besides* lemon squares? —Aranya Ver’sarn
Lime squares. A pale imitation, but they’ll do in a pinch.
I have also been known on occasion to pick up one of those giant chocolate chip cookies and spend the afternoon strolling around Orgrimmar munching while I’m doing my business. One of my prouder moments, actually, was one time when I was doing that, and D and/or U, whoever the fuck because who even cares enough to remember, started bugging me about that shit, and I actually managed to knock him out by smacking him over the head WITH the giant cookie.
So, you know, that’s…wait for it…the way the cookie crumbles. (THAT’S RIGHT, GARROSH GOT JOKES)
Has anyone turned down your lemon squares, and did they survive it? How successful were they among the draenai ladies? —@SintraEdrien
You know, I don’t usually get in the habit of running around OFFERING the lemon squares. People are much more likely to come rolling up on me ASKING for them, especially since word about them leaked onto the internet, and from that point, hoo boy, every motherfucker with an Azeroth Online account figured they could just hit me up for a sample, because when you make the internet easy enough for any fuckhead to use, every fuckhead will.
Where was I?
But…no. I can’t think of anyone who ever turned down the lemon squares. Even with as much fail as I have surrounding me in a usual day at the office, even THOSE failures don’t fail enough to fail to notice the lemony awesomeness of Greatmother’s recipe. I would guess if they did they would pretty definitely find a way to screw up their chances with the draenei girls. I, on the other hand, rarely have problems when I offer some sweets to the ladies, draenei or otherwise, seeing as, y’know, #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh.
Hang on. Is Shay reading this? Where’s that delete key again? SPAZZLE!
How much do you weigh? –Jordyn
7’2″, 340 lbs. of pure muscle.
And bone.
And sinew.
And…internal…body part…um… organs and… kidney stones…erm… YOU GET THE POINT.
As a leader, what are the toughest decisions you have to make? Lok’tar Ogar —@DonnerB123
The toughest ones, no surprise, are the biggest ones. Which pretty much come down to decisions of life and death. Like…literally, who to kill and who not to kill. Really brief cases in point: there was that time a was back (and some of you people might not even have been reading here when this was going on, which raises the question WHY THE FUCK NOT), when me and Mokvar and a few others were trapped in this alternate timeline where Dranosh Saurfang was still alive…only pretty much the only way for us to save the Horde was for me to pretty much kill him. On the other hand… every day, here in Orgrimmar, I’m surrounded by the Dontrags and Utvochs and Lor’themars and whoever the fuck elses, one annoying fucker after another griping about nuisance after nuisance…and I have to decide NOT to kill them. Because reasons. I guess.
We live in an imperfect world, DonnerB123. An ugly, imperfect world.
So . . . I simply can’t seem to get the hang of this: Is it Dontvoch and Utrag, or Dontut and Vochtrag? My head hurts . . . —@SintraEdrien
Nobody knows, Sintra. Nobody fucking knows.
Would you ever want to return to Nagrand? —@Malkorok_
Oh, hey, Malk. Taking a break from reading that Cribbage for Fucking Idiots guide I gave you, huh?
Anyway… Would I want to return to Nagrand, like to visit? Sure. I’ve been back a couple times to see Greatmother. Not for a while now, granted, but still. So yeah, it would be nice to see the old place again, one of these days, when things calm down.
Return for good, though? Doubt it. Nagrand’s always going to be home, mind you, but my life is in Azeroth now. The past is the past, and all that, and you can’t go back. Well, you can, but, you know…well, don’t remind me. FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.
When are you finally going to get married? —@Greatmom_Geyah
Oh, hey, check out the timing there. I was just talking about you, Greatmother.
And…yeah. Okay, Greatmother, look. We’re all adults here, so I’m going to be real with you. You know the old saying, right? Why buy the cow, when you literally have dozens of hot women of every description lining up around Grommash Hold for a chance to take turns at…
Hang on.
Is Shayari reading this or not? Can somebody go check on this for me? Seriously.
Warchief, watch out for elven ships around durotar… Your habit of antagonizing the idiot in charge of Silvermoon could have repercussions, now that they’re stockpiling Mogu weaponry. Possibly Forsaken ships too, you KNOW those two are in bed. Figuratively. Though maybe this is the elves ending that? What do you think about this? –Ritaba
Okay… I’m not sure if this is actually a question, but… Let me put it this way, Ritaba. Ask me again how worried I am about Regent-Lord Hair-Care rising up like an avenging demon (*chortle*) and rallying his wrathful people (*guffaw*) to unleash a blood wave of vengeance on me.
Yeah. Like zero…
Dear Warchief- could you pleeeease appoint us a leader? Ever since the last Sunstrider went wacko on us, we’ve been lost… —@SintraEDrien
…aaaaaand here’s case in point as to why.
What is your favorite place in all of Azeroth? –Orgrimmar Travel Agency
You know what? You probably wouldn’t guess this, but Mulgore. I really like Mulgore. Reminds me of Nagrand a lot — rolling plains, open skies, all that kind of thing.
Honorable mention for weekends and vacations: What happens at Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace, stays at Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace.
Least favorite: Ashenvale. I hate Ashenvale. For multiples reasons, most of which revolve the same fel-forsaken part of it.
Warchief, I must know,
Much is known of the Kor’kron’s activities in Pandaria, and the Blackrock clan’s work in Orgrimmar and abroad. But what of your Warsong clan? They have been inactive since the Cataclysm, as far as anyone can tell. Do you have any big plans for them coming up? –Grottee Metalbeard, goblin shaman
Now see, I can understand how this could have caused some confusion. Because yeah, the Warsong clan came with me up to Northrend, and they represented a big chunk of our forces when I was in command up there. And then in the time right after the Cataclysm, they were pretty active in Ashenvale (which is not, I might have mentioned, on my list of Favorite Places Ever). And so, yeah, since then, I can see how it might look to you like they’ve gone fairly inactive, but that’s just because the clan hasn’t been operating as much as a singular force. See, before I became Warchief, I was chieftain of the clan, so they represented the main bulk of the forces under my command. Now, though, I have ALL the orcish clans under my jurisdiction, so there isn’t as much need for me to be lining up jobs for the Warsong specifically. They’ve been keeping busy, just not in a way that makes you go “the Warsong orcs are doing THIS over THERE.” Some of them were part of Nazgrim’s detachment heading down to Pandaria, a lot of them have been recruited into the ranks of the Kor’kron along with more than a few Blackrocks, others have been assigned to some other operations I have going on around Orgrimmar. So they’re just getting around more. Spread the love! And by “love,” I mean, of course, “bloody fist of retribution.”
If Varian begged for mercy would you? a: mock him, b: cut off his head, c: take over SW, d: all of the above —@SintraEDrien
Sorry, I can’t get past the first five words without cackling maniacally so hard I fall out of my chair.
Heh. Heheh.
HAAAAA!
What’s your earliest memory? —@LibFeathers
You know, my VERY earliest memories aren’t really specific memories of particular events, just the sort of odds and ends that most people remember. My childhood in Nagrand, obviously — I can remember back, vaguely, to when I was around five or so. My mom was still alive then, so I remember her, and I remember us fighting through the red pox as best we could…which, let me tell you, SUCKED. There was the pet clefthoof I had back then, y’know, before meat supplies started getting thin that one winter, and there was me getting to be friends with Dranosh. We hung out a lot back then, fishing and hunting and stuff — me and Dranosh and Jorin Deadeye, actually, back before Jorin turned out to be a dick. Um… probably my earliest memories of specific events all revolved around my mom — the day when Greatmother told me she’d died, for one. And one, a little while before that, back when the pox was still going on. I’d woken up from this nightmare, and she and I stayed up a while talking about it, and it’s nothing really momentous or even important, but it was just one of those little things that stick with you, you know? Anyway…that’s it for early memories. Not fun, I know. But like…if something’d going to stick in your head from THAT young, it’s almost always going to be something bad, right?
By any chance would you be willing to add any pandaren cultural festivals to be acknowledged? Brewfest does not count. —@ShenWeiPureblossom
Funny coincidence — you should totally go talk to Ji about this. I’ve heard he was talking to some of the other pandas about carrying over some custom you guys had on your wandering turtle island whatever-the-fuck is was, some kind of outdoor festival with noodles or something? Check in with Lunchbox about this, he could probably use a hand setting it up. Hell, I might even try to whip something up myself for it, if it happens. Like I’ve been saying, it’s been too long since I got in the kitchen.
[More OOC teasing: This is indeed on the way. In the not-too-distant future, the Pandaren Noodle Festival comes to Orgrimmar, in a comic/transcript featuring… well… almost the entire damn supporting cast.]
Hail Warchief Hellscream! It has been some time since I have found the time to reply to your writings as things have been quite busy up in Hearthglen lately. Especially with the arrival of his gracious young Highness, Prince Anduin, while he convalesces at Mardenholde for a time. Something about a bell, if I recall. Anyway, onto the question before I tarry on too long.
I had heard from a rather reliable source who would prefer anonymity that some months ago, you suffered from an invasion in Orgrimmar. Was this true, and what occurred? —Tirion Fordring
Oh geez…here we go. Well, at least T-Ford managed to keep it under 5000 words.
So…yeah. I don’t know if I would call it an INVASION, but… a little while back, yeah, there was…an incident. This goes back a few months… May, I think? Anyway, I’m hanging around in Grommash Hold, right? Just minding my own business, plotting world domination, same ol’ same ol’. A regular day at the office. When all of a sudden, out of like NOWHERE, these gnomes start running into the place. And at first, I’m like, DAMMIT MALKOROK, how about some security up in this piece, but then I see the sheer NUMBER of them — there’s hundreds of these motherfuckers. Maybe even THOUSANDS of them. Which, if you know how I feel about gnomes, was just filling me with a level of glee that could have wiped out all life in the universe.
Thing of it is, this wasn’t some actual invasion or ATTACK from the fuckers down in Gnomergan, or…wherever they fuck they’re living these days. The part of Gnome-ville that’s not fucking glowing from radiation and shit. Anyhow, THESE gnomes are all like…the noobiest, weakest, saddest little excuses for underpowered gnomes you’ve ever seen — and seriously, do you KNOW how fucking SAD someone has to be for me to be forced to coin the phrase “underpowered gnomes”?
And so in they come, in sheer numbers too big for the guards to stop them all on the way in — though, believe me, if you saw the trail of bodies you’d know they fucking TRIED — and they come flooding like rats into Grommash Hold, only if they were rats I might actually worry about it more because FLEAS. And here’s the punchline — when they finally got close to me, you know what they’re big finishing move was? They all kept trying to hug and kiss me. Like my foot or some shit. Until I popped a bladestorm, and, you know, eight trillion dead gnomes.
Which is a beautiful way to line up four words, I gotta say.
Do you like to dance? –Jordyn
Draw your own conclusions.
Do you think that maybe Mokvar and Deliana were ever married in a previous life? They seem so . . . together. —@SintraEDrien
DUDE, I don’t know WHAT the fuck to think about those two. Would it SURPRISE me? No. I am WAY past the point where fucking ANYTHING could surprise me around here. So much weird shit has gone on around here the last few years, I consider NOTHING off the menu. Mokvar and that human chick married? Sure, maybe. Half-draenei daughter from years back turns up at the front door? Why the fuck not? Ji Deep-Dish floats around in a fucking balloon and gets his pudgy ass stuck in a honey tree? Sounds normal to me. For real, man, at this point fucking Draz’Zilb the ogre could show up riding Onyxia, who’s been reanimated for like the forty-seventh time as far as anybody can count, with Anduin on a leash dressed like in a bear suit, and when Draz belches Anduin’s been conditioned to tell a knock-knock joke, and my reaction would be “Yeah, sure, why didn’t I see it coming?” WELCOME TO AZEROTH, WHERE THE BOTTOMLESS CUP OF WHAT THE FUCK FLOWS FREELY IN ALL DIRECTIONS.
Warchief, I really loved your poem about your pet clefthoof, it really brought a tear to my eye. Could you please share another sample of your EPIC VERSE from your childhood back in Garadar? –Khizzara
Hmm… okay, let me dig out the old journal and see if I can find something for you. Now, keep in mind, my poems back in those days weren’t nearly as polished, but let’s see…
Okay.
There was a little orc
Who ate a little pork
Over in the breakfast nook
And when he was bad
He wished that he was good
Cause Greatmom’s got a mean right hook
EPIC VERSE!
Wait… that’s… yeah, that one maybe doesn’t come off looking so good.
Um… I’ll see what else I can find.
When will you ever figure out that the constant stream of adventurers coming to annoy you about gold were sent from me? —@M_Grimtotem
OH FUCK YOU, MAGATHA
So for anyone who missed this, a ways back, Madame Upright Hamburger here stirred up some shit on Twitter, where she went on about having hidden a stash of gold somewhere in my damn throne room, and offering it as a giveaway to anyone who could find it. Which set off a borderline-noob-gnome-like influx of random motherfuckers running into Grommash Hold and trying to turn the damn place upside down looking for the loot. So finally, FINALLY, after Malkorok and his people rounded up and fucking executed like I don’t even know how many of these people, my throne room stopped being the hot spot for random asshats to go hang out. You know, aside from the random asshats who hang out there professionally. And before anybody starts getting all excited, let me reiterate: THERE IS NO TREASURE HIDDEN IN MY THRONE ROOM, OKAY? Seriously. The last thing I want to have happen a little ways down the road is like another ten or fifteen or twenty-five random people to come running through into my command room expecting to collect loot.
What’s the latest between you and Zaela? —@MyGarona
Look, Greatmom, I’ve told you, stop trying to… wait.
Garona?
Seriously?
Jealous much?
Look, there’s nothing going on with me and Zaela, okay?
…
…
…that you need to concern yourself with.
<waggle>
What’s the deal with people thinking Mokvar and I are a couple? No matter how many times I try, I can’t convince ANYONE! —Deliana Hawthorne
Because, see, Lor’themar can say he’s a dude, and he can call himself a dude, and he can stroll around all day in dude’s clothes and using all the right pronouns and shit, and he can talk himself red in the face trying to tell everybody he’s a dude, but at the end of the day, people with eyes and still look at him and see that he’s Lor’themar.
Also, who the hell let HER in here? MALK! How about some security, dammit?!
What’s your favorite tipple? Beer? Wine? Liquor? If any, what variety do you enjoy in particular? —@SintraEDrien
Holy shit, Sintra, you’ve sure got a lot of questions.
I’m pretty simple as far as my drinking tastes go. Beer and grog, a some rum on occasion. They have some pretty good varieties out of Stranglethorn, so I’ll pick up a bottle or two when I have the chance. Maybe a little cherry grog on occasion, but that’s about as fancy as I get with it. Although, you want to know who’s MAJORLY into the weird fruity drinks, like those ones that come with the little umbrellas every single time like there’s a fucking law prohibiting their sale without them, like drinking the drink has a chance of proccing rain and the damn umbrella has to be included as a fucking safety measure? Malkorok. No joke. Dude can’t suck down enough of that shit.
Your guess is as good as mine.
Why don’t you like us? We just want to help. —@Dontrag_Utvoch
…
Do you want me to get into the list chronologically, alphabetically, or in order of importance?
You know what? It’s not even worth it. It’s like…fuck, it’s like trying to explain to the damn wolf pup why you’re yelling at it two hours after it peed on the carpet. What’s even the fucking point?
Although…you know what’s funny? Check it: Damned if I can remember which of these fuckers is which, but I know, rank-wise, Dontrag is a sergeant, and Utvoch is a scout. Now it’s kinda-sorta funny that after like nine years in the Horde military, Utvoch still hasn’t managed to get promoted above the absolute lowest possible rank there is. Like, the day you show up, they make you a scout, and here he is a decade later and he’s STILL only managed to keep himself half a rung up from peon.
So that’s good for a chuckle. But you want to know the disturbing part? Back when I first met General Nazgrim, in Northrend, dude was rank sergeant. So that means that until I took over and started doing promotions and reassignments, fucking DONTRAG AND NAZGRIM WERE THE SAME DAMN RANK.
On the other hand, I suppose we don’t know for sure that Dontrag COULDN’T steer a ship in a straight line without crashing it, so…
Anyhow. Okay, one more, so let’s see what we’ve got to wrap up.
When are we going to hear the rest of @Mokvar_Scribe‘s tale? The people want answers! —Deliana Hawthorne
Wait, her again? DAMMIT MALKOROK, GET ON THIS!
But, okay, to answer your question:
Starting…NOW.*
That’s it for questions for tonight. Thanks to all of my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS for contributing, and to all of my enemies who came by, FUCK YOU ALL BUT THANKS FOR THE PAGEVIEWS, NOW HIT RFRESH A FEW MORE TIMES THEN CROAK.
I’m out, people. More soon.
* * * * *
*VERY soon, in fact — as an added perk for those of you who’ve stayed this late into the going, well…count to ten, click back to the main page, and rejoin the ongoing tale of Mokvar, Garrosh, and more!
Meanwhile, for those of you coming late to the party, don’t worry, you haven’t missed your chance to pose your questions to the Warchief — there’s always his monthly mailbag! Next edition coming March 2! Feel free to e-mail, or use the handy-dandy form below:
30 Days of Character Development #5: Korrina
[Each week, a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about.]
Name: Korrina
Occupation: Horde military trainee, apprentice blacksmith, part-time ore miner
Race: Orc
Class: Warrior (arms)
Age: 15
Group affiliations: Horde (member), Dead Peons Society (a.k.a. “DPS,” member and resident badass)
Known relatives: Thura (mother), Broxigar (great-uncle, deceased), Varok Saurfang (great-uncle), Dranosh Saurfang (second cousin, deceased), Grimfang (second cousin once removed)
First appearance: “Being a role model is a full-time job” (first mention of trainee group), “Dead Peons Society” (first mention of DPS by name), “Buried treasure” (first full, named appearance)
Key posts and plot points:
- Garrosh first took on a group of high-aptitude trainees in “Being a role model is a full-time job,” and the group adopted its name in the eponymous “Dead Peons Society” after an…unfortunate incident involving a lazy and excessively fragile peon. Korrina was part of the group from the beginning, but was not named specifically until the Krasarang Underground arc.
- Along with many of her fellow DPS trainees, Korrina accompanied the Warchief to Pandaria and continued her training there, in part under the guidance of Mag’har blademasters Krimpatul, Burzum, and Ishi.
- Korrina and the other trainees joined Krimpatul on an ill-fated mission to secure the Temple of the Red Crane for the Horde, beginning in “Departures.” In “Fear leads to anger,” Garrosh learned of an Alliance victory at the temple that appeared to claim the lives of the trainees; unknown to the Warchief, Krimpatul led the trainees into hiding in a nearby system of caves, as detailed in “Reports of my demise” parts 1 and 2.
At the urging of Elder Cloudfall, Garrosh traveled to the temple grounds to investigate the trainees’ disappearance. There, after accidentally falling into the underground caverns, he found Korrina and the rest of the DPS, in “Buried treasure.” This post marked Korrina’s first formal appearance in the blog and the first time she’s referenced by name. Garrosh and the trainees eventually made their escape from the caves, though not before Korrina demonstrated her badassery on some unsuspecting saurok. (And she would have put the hurt on Varian, too, if it hadn’t been for those meddling kids Gurtash and Ruekie…)
- For those keeping score at home, DPS members who have been named thus far are Korrina, Gurtash, Ruekie, Giska, and Kulkesh (our main players in the Krasarang story); Ruekie’s twin sister Tuekie; and Lok’osh, who was killed in the saurok cave.
- Korrina is based on the baby arms warrior of long-time WCB co-conspirator Khizzara, author of Blog of the Treant. Many thanks to Khizzara for letting me steal her character, and for her many contributions to her character – including a large portion of the in-character responses that follow!
In his/her own words:
Describe your relationship with your mother or your father. Was it good? Bad? Were you spoiled rotten, ignored? Do you still get along now, or no?
Well, I don’t know who my dad is. My mom never talks about him. I think he was killed in honorable combat like a true orc hero, but his death made mom sad so she doesn’t say much. She doesn’t talk about my greatparents either. They probably died in the 2nd or 3rd war? I’m not sure… I should ask but sooooo awkward!
My mom is pretty cool though. Good in a fight. She’s not as famous as some of my relatives, though…
Mom was a pretty good mom, I guess. She had to go off and fight and stuff when I was small, something about how her axe was super special, and she had to go chop down an important tree or something.
…Okay, I know that sounds lame, but it was harder than it sounds, okay?
Anyway, since my dad is dead, I had to stay in the orphanage while she was gone to war. That happens to everyone, though, so whatev. She’s back now but I’M off at war. I write to her, though, so she won’t worry too much.
What are your most prominent physical features?
My totes awesome purple mohawk!!! And my bulging biceps LOL
Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from. If you don’t have any, is there a reason?
Only ONE!!?? I’m a WARRIOR, I’m MADE of scars! Okay, hmm… Well, most are just nicks and cuts and things, but once, when I was pretty little, I was playing on top of the old bank in Orgrimmar, the one before Warchief Garrosh rebuilt things, and I slipped and fell and landed on the cactus in front of the door! So all these cactus needles went through my left arm and leg and had to be removed, so I have all these evenly spaced circular scars there. It looks pretty cool, actually.
How vain are you? Do you find yourself attractive?
Um… I guess I’m pretty average looking?? I never thought about it much. Looks aren’t important when you’re usually covered in dirt, sweat, and blood, anyway.
Describe your happiest memory.
This is maybe stupid, but once while mom was away my uncle Varok came to visit me at the Org orphanage — well, I guess he was visiting Warchief Thrall, but he spent a whole day with me. He showed me some cool fighting moves and bought me ice cream and a little teddy bear (which I still have, shh!) and let me stay up real late while he told me stories. It was a pretty chilly night (it gets cold in the desert after dark), but I didn’t want him to send me to bed, and orcs are tough, so I didn’t complain. And it was a really clear night, so he pointed out all the major constellations in the night sky, and we watched the Blue Child come up.
What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?
Strawberry. Deep purple (like my hair!). Power of the Horde by the ETC! Twilight jasmine is pretty, and purple too!
Who do you trust?
I trust my fellow DPS with my life. And my captain/Warchief Garrosh. Never go into battle with people you don’t trust.
I also trust my axe, Lizardbane. (I named it that because it’s great for killing saurok!)
Can you define a turning point in your life? Multiples are acceptable.
– When my mom went to war and I had to live at the orphanage
– When I started warrior training
– When I went with the DPS to Pandaria
How are you with technology? Super savvy, or way behind the times? Letters or e-mail?
I’m not a goblin or a nerd, but yeah, I grew up with computers, so I know some tech stuff. Letters or email? LOL it’s not like I’m old and in my 20s or something. I just text or whatev. Unless it needs to be more official, and then it depends on how urgent the message is. Birthday card for Uncle Varok? Snail mail. Homework? E-mail. And if I really need to send a message, I find that AXE to the FACE works pretty well.
What does your bed look like when you wake up? Are the covers off on one side of the bed, are they all curled around a pillow, sprawled everywhere? In what position do you sleep?
I sleep on my side with my hand on Lizardbane. Usually I wrap the blanket all around myself kinda like a cocoon. I don’t need a blanket though. A warrior can sleep anywhere, anytime!
How do you react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?
I endure them without complaint.
Are you an early morning bird or a night owl?
Night owl. Do NOT talk to me before 10 am unless you want an AXE to the FACE.
Are there any blood relatives that you are particularly close with, besides the immediate ones? Cousins, uncles, grandfathers, aunts, etc. Are there any others that you practically consider a blood relative?
I love my Uncle Varok, but I don’t get to see him much. He’s stationed in Northrend. This is going to sound dumb, but I want to be as awesome as he is someday.
My cousin Dranosh was a cool guy, but he was way older than me, so I didn’t know him much. I was sad when he died, though.
I didn’t really meet my uncle Brox.
I guess I’m mostly on my own, but it’s okay because the DPS is like family.
What does you desk/workspace look like? Are you neat or messy?
I keep my weapons and gear neat and tidy because well-maintained gear is gear that keeps you alive! Otherwise… well, just… don’t look in my bags, okay?
Do you have any irrational fears?
I fear failing to protect my friends, but that seems pretty rational to me. I’m also kinda scared of falling off buildings and landing on cactus. Cactuses. Cactusi?
What would your cutie mark be?
Your skull with my axe through it for asking something so stupid.
If you could time travel, where would you go?
Knowing the Bronze Dragonflight, it’s probably a matter of WHEN, not IF. And I doubt I’ll have much choice in the matter of where. But I guess I’d like to see Draenor… the old Draenor, before it shattered. When the orc clans were still brown and strong.
What might your ideal romantic partner be?
I’ve never thought about it. I guess… strong, confident, skilled in combat, smart (no peons please!), tough, loyal, honorable… a real ORC man, you know?
But I dunno, seems like a bad idea to fall in love. Everyone dies young, so you either lose them, or they lose you, and your kids grow up in the orphanage.
Describe your hands. Are they small, long, calloused, smooth, stubby?
Why? That’s kinda creepy. Do you have some hand fetish or something?
They’re strong and wield a big axe. Think about that when you ask questions.
What’s your favorite comfort food, favorite vice, favorite outfit, favorite hot drink, favorite time of year, and favorite holiday?
Pulled pork. Um, what? I don’t think I have any of those. My armor. Hot cocoa! Autumn. Brewfest. Um! I mean! WINTER VEIL. Yes. Winter Veil. >.>
How do you smell? Do you wear perfume or cologne?
…
Strong hands. Big axe. Remember? Get away from me, you creeper!
Besides, I’m standing right in front of you. What are you going to ask next, what I’m wearing? When I’m standing right in front of you?
But come on, I’m a warrior! I wear plate armor and do vigorous physical activity all day. I don’t smell of roses. Idiot.
Previous Profiles:
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[A few reminders and announcements! First and foremost, last call for the Transmogs for Shayari contest – today is the last day to send your entries to garrosh1337@gmail.com. I’ve already gotten many great outfits, and will be looking forward to seeing a few more before the day is out.
Along those lines, I’m planning to put together a pretty big post next weekend, showing off the wide range of looks that folks have offered for everyone’s favorite half-draenei girl. (Sorry, Garona. Don’t come after me.) In order to give myself room to put that post together, without derailing the blog’s main continuity too much, I’m also going to skip next week’s 30 Days profile. I’ll have a new profile haphazardly slapped together the following week (or weekend, most likely). Any requests, as far as whom?
And speaking of next weekend, just a reminder that we’ll be having our next installment of the SoO meta raid. As always, all are welcome; as always, feel free to add Averry#1116 on RealID to reach me to come join the fun.
And finally, one more item to look forward to next week: It’s mailbag time! The Warchief is already busy sorting through his mail, but he can always use more. Use the e-mail address above or the handy form below to submit your thoughts and questions before it’s too late!]
30 Days of Character Development #3: D&U
[Each week, a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Since I didn’t get around to posting a profile last week, this time around I’m making up for it with a double of sorts. Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about!]
Occupation: Horde infantry soldiers (ranks: Dontrag—Sergeant; Utvoch—Scout)
Age: Dontrag—31; Utvoch—29
Race: Orc
Class: Warrior
Group affiliations: Horde (members), Overlord Krom’gar’s army (former members)
Known relatives: Dontrag—Adrasa (sister), Ug’thok (nephew); Utvoch—Krila (aunt)
Earth Online notes: D&U play EO with mains GilbertRose (Dontrag) and SteveKravitz (Utvoch), and are members of Garrosh’s guild <Warchief>. Utvoch briefly changed his character’s name to “Dranosh,” but was roundly criticized for the name choice, because really. He reversed the name change shortly thereafter. Also, guildmate Sylvanas Windrunner appears to take particular amusement in baiting the duo into arguments about which of them is which.
First appearance: “Visiting Zoram’gar” (first mention), “Underneath the bunker” (first full transcript appearance)
Key posts and plot points:
- An unsuspecting Garrosh first encountered Dontrag and Utvoch at Silverwind Refuge in “Visiting Zoram’gar” and dispatched them to join Overlord Krom’gar’s forces in Stonetalon. He would later encounter them during his investigation of Krom’gar’s operations in “Underneath the bunker” – featuring D&U in supporting roles in Mokvar’s first transcript.
(D&U can be found in-game both at Silverwind Refuge and in the Deep Reaches beneath Krom’gar’s fortress. In the latter instance, they’re joined by goblin questgiver Blastgineer Igore; blog readers may take a certain amusement in Igore’s quest-text commentary on our cerebrally challenged friends.)
- After Krom’gar’s “dismissal,” D&U remained stationed in Stonetalon, under the command of newly appointed Overlord Cliffwalker. They were frequently recalled to Orgrimmar and other locations for various missions, but remained officially assigned to Cliffwalker in Stonetalon prior to their dispatch to Pandaria.
- Evidently, according to a letter from D&U in one mailbag, Utvoch has (or had) enrolled in some extension courses, including diplomatic writing. Academic records from the undertaking have not been released. At one point, Utvoch convinced Dontrag to take a class with him, but the pair failed the course when they were caught handing in the same paper. To the same instructor. Yes, really.
- Utvoch – sans Dontrag – traveled to old Hillsbrad, ten years in the past, with Garrosh, Mokvar, Liadrin, and Faranell during the Anti-Plague of Southshore storyline. Like the other members of the group, Utvoch later found himself trapped between two fluctuating timelines; Garrosh and Mokvar noted, with no small degree of amusement, that this situation likely led to many confusing discussions between Utvoch and Dontrag.
- Utvoch met and befriended Taktani in Mulgore just before she started writing in to Garrosh’s mailbag; Dontrag would meet her as well not long after. Since Taktani’s arrival in Pandaria, Garrosh has charged D&U with keeping an eye on Tak and generally helping her navigate the complexities of the adult world, a job that Utvoch appears to have taken to somewhat more enthusiastically than Dontrag has.
- Many people, Garrosh prime among them, frequently lose track of who is Dontrag and who is Utvoch – which is actually rather peculiar, given that they don’t really look very much alike. Sylvanas, in guild chat, seems to understand which of them is which, but deliberately baits them into arguments on the subject anyway.
- Regular readers will be well aware of Garrosh’s habit of giving people (often dismissive) nicknames. Dontrag and Utvoch are among his most frequent targets; some of his favorites for them include the Dumbass Duo, Ketchup and Mustard, and the Wonder Twins.
In their own words:
Describe your relationship with your mother or your father or both. Was it good? Bad? Were you spoiled rotten, ignored? Do you still get along now, or no?
I didn’t know my father. I think he was killed in the attack on Shattrath. I got along pretty well with my mother, though. She always used to tell me how I could be anything I wanted to be and accomplish anything I set my mind to. Then I started working with the trainers and she had her first parent conference. After that she mostly saved the thing about being whatever you want for my sister. –Dontrag
I don’t really remember my parents. They both died in the first war after the Dark Portal opened. My aunt ended up raising me until I was old enough to fend for myself. –Utvoch
How vain are you? Do you find yourself attractive?
I guess I was a little vain for a while, during that year in the Barrens when I was trying to get away with the comb-over. I started losing my hair early and it took a while for me to accept that I wasn’t fooling anyone. –Dontrag
I don’t think I’m bad looking or anything, but I don’t really think I’m anything special. Luckily I spend most of my time hanging out with this guy, so I figure I must end up looking like at least a 7. –Utvoch
What are your most prominent physical features?
My thick, full head of hair. –Utvoch
Screw you, Ut. –Dontrag
Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from. If you don’t have any, is there a reason?
Well, I’ve got this one scar on my forehead, on the right side. I was trying to explain which of us was which that time in Karazhan, and, um…well, the Warchief kind of got impatient and backhanded me. –Dontrag
I’ve got one across my left cheek. It’s just above the line of my beard, so I don’t think you would really notice it unless you were looking for it. I got it when I got those people killed by that yeti in Hillsbrad because I accidentally went out of my way to kill a giant moth, and the Warchief got really mad and belted me. Although the worst part was how he yelled. He got that tone that he gets. –Utvoch
Oh, yeah, I’ve got one on my face, too, right under my left eye, from that time the Warchief— Wait a minute, when you said to name them, did you mean you wanted us to name them name them? In that case, I think I’ll call the one under my eye Al. –Dontrag
I think I’ll name mine Dranosh. It means “Heart of Draenor” in orcish. –Utvoch
Everybody knows that, you idiot. And it’s still not cool to use that name. Anyway, for the one on my forehead, maybe I’ll name that one The Reminder. –Dontrag
I don’t get it. But I love the idea of a name that’s “The” something. I have to remember that if I ever have kids. –Utvoch
What does your desk/workspace look like? Are you neat or messy?
Depends on which of us used it last. I try to keep our desk sort of organized back at the barracks. Donty’s a slob, though. I always end up having to pick up after him. It’s like having a second job half the time. –Utvoch
Depends on which of us used it last. It’s not so much that I’m messy, really – it’s more me being lazy. I don’t care enough to put in the extra effort to put everything in order. And I mean, I would if I had to, but I figured out a long time ago that Ut’s compulsive enough that if I just leave it alone, he’ll do it eventually himself. So, like, it’s not so much that I’m messy as I delegate well. –Dontrag
Do you have any irrational fears?
Other than the Warchief getting a little madder than usual one day and stabbing me? Fire makes me antsy. I always get nervous around fire mages. Or mages casting fireballs in general. I always get this weird creepy feeling like I’m about to get torched. –Dontrag
Owls freak me out. Not even, like, giant ones, either. Although those are even freakier. Just plain old regular owls. The way they stare at you, and plus, when they go “who!”, I always feel like they’re mocking me and Donty. –Utvoch
If you could time travel, where would you go?
Probably old Hillsbrad, since I didn’t get to go last time, just to see what the big deal was. –Dontrag
Maybe back to that time we went back to old Hillsbrad, and let Donty go instead? That whole thing was really confusing, and I think the Warchief got even madder with me than usual, and plus there was that whole thing with the end of the world, which wasn’t a whole lot of fun. –Utvoch
What might your ideal romantic partner be?
I won’t lie. I’ve always had a thing for tauren women. Can’t resist them. (It’s the hooves.) –Utvoch
You are a sick, sick orc, Ut. –Dontrag
Turn of the tide
Well THIS has been an ugly turn, let me just say.
So as I was saying last time, I wasn’t exactly thrilled that the Alliance were able to squirm out from under their imminent deaths-by-kraken, but I could still deal with that. Their counteroffensive on Durotar got thoroughly slapped back, they lost a ton of ships, Horde losses were minimal, fine. Would have been nice if we could have polished them off entirely, but still, worst spin you could put on our side was it was a draw, best spin you could put on theirs is they avoided a total fucking catastrophe. All good.
But this? This is going to stick in my craw for a while.
By the way, what the hell is a craw?
Anyway. I gathered up some troops to bring down to Northwatch Hold, but once we were under way, I took off ahead of everyone and pushed my worg Malak to race down there as fast as she could. Malkorok, Baine, and Vol’jin kept fairly close behind me (you should have seen Baine’s kodo’s little legs go – would have been kind of endearing if I wasn’t so pissed off at the time). We ended up well ahead of any of the other soldiers. And in the end, none of us made it all the way there.
I stopped at a distance once Northwatch was clearly within view. Malkorok, Baine, and Vol’jin had the good sense to keep their distance while I took it all in. The Alliance flag was already flying there again, and the place was swarming with water elementals. More happy deliveries from Jaina.
How the hell did this happen? We had every tactical advantage. We had the Alliance on the fucking ROPES, with our foot on their throat. And now? Now there wouldn’t even be any point in having our troops continue on – staging an attempt to retake Northwatch would be a suicide mission at this point.
While I was fuming over all this, one of Baine’s Longrunners arrived with even more happy news – Varian was sending his fleet around to break our blockade. Terrific. I wasn’t interested in letting an ugly situation turn even uglier, so I sent Malkorok back with orders to have our ships withdraw and return home. Don’t think for a minute that THAT order didn’t stick in my throat a little.
Baine turned all happy on me at that point. He thought it meant I was giving up on taking the fight to the Alliance and pushing for the Horde to take its rightful place of dominance. Well, I straightened him out on that count right quick. No way in hell am I abandoning this fight – if anything, we’re stepping it up. More troops, more ships, more weapons, more everything. The Alliance thinks this is over? Fuck that. We’re just getting started.
Baine and Vol’jin didn’t much like the sound of that, and they both did a little more griping before they both turned around and headed home.
And you know something? I’m getting goddamn sick and tired of listening to those two complain. All through this latest campaign, I’ve been defending them to Malkorok for meaning well in their own way, and being loyal and great warriors in their own right. But you know what? This whole deal where I have to listen to the two of them complain every time I make a decision is getting REAL old REAL fast. They were DEAD. Baine was dead. Vol’jin was dead. Orgrimmar fucking FELL. And I’ve had quite enough of this bullshit where I save the fucking world only to have people bitch and moan like ingrates over the way I’ve gone about doing it.
I’ve already sacrificed too much in the name of saving the Horde to let victory escape us now. I’ve let friends die and enemies live. I’ve thrown away my own honor doing it, because I had to. Because it was either my honor, or the survival of the entire Horde – the entire fucking WORLD. Dranosh Saurfang was a brother to me, but his death was the only way to save the world from flames. It was the only way, so I killed him. And I liked him a whole fucking lot more than I like Baine or Vol’jin.
What difference does it make if Orgrimmar burns at the hands of the demons, or the humans? If the Alliance wins now – if the Horde doesn’t emerge triumphant and strong and in control of its destiny – then Dranosh died for nothing. Cairne died for nothing. Taurajo burned for nothing. ALL of it was for NOTHING.
No. I won’t have it. Not while I’m Warchief. Not on my watch. We’ve paid too high a price already.
We’re pressing on, fighting on, and we’re not stopping, not slowing, not flinching until we win. I promise you that, Dranosh. In your memory. In your honor.
For the Horde.
Same as it ever was
I was groggy when I woke up, and even after I opened my eyes, it took a few minutes for my head to stop spinning. Finally my vision cleared up and I found myself sitting in a chair, sprawled forward over a table. There were papers under my face, and a few of them stuck to it courtesy of a small puddle of drool.
I straightened up in the chair, plucked the clingy pages from my cheek, and looked around the room. It was the admiral’s quarters in Northwatch Hold, the room I’ve been using the last few days of our stay here. The drool-smeared papers in my hand, and others spread around the table, were covered with maps of Theramore, lists of troop assignments, armament logistics, the crew manifesto of a goblin air galleon.
I ran my hands over the table to make sure it was really there. And then my uneasy brain went looking for hallucination in the next most likely place.
Had I imagined it? The other world, the demons, the Scourge, the fall of Orgrimmar…everything…could it have just been a dream? It seemed so real, the memories were so vivid…but…
I stood up, gathered more of the papers from the table, and started paging through them — not even reading anything on them, really, just wanting something I could feel in my hands. As I held the documents over the tabletop and looked at all the words without ever reading any of them, my arm brushed another paper, this one creased and folded, jutting out of my belt.
The military documents spilled around the floor as I grabbed the folded paper and rushed to unfold it. It was worn and stained with what looked like blood, just a torn-off scrap, not even half a page. Scrawled across it was the familiar handwriting of the Master Apothecary of Sylvanas’ Royal Society. Or the man who would become him.
They’re going to turn against you. Don’t let them.
He really, REALLY never listened. It’s like some weird matter of principle with him. I don’t even know if he was really trying to help, offering some begrudging, misguided gesture in parting…or if this was his way of giving me one last middle finger for the things I’d forced him to do. I don’t know if I could hold either against him.
But that sealed it. It all happened. Except that it didn’t, now.
It worked. We did it. We saved the world. It all happened, just the way I remembered it, just the way it was supposed to.
I walked over to the tower window. I needed some air to clear my head. I leaned out and looked across the Barrens. I could see Horde banners below, and a squad of Kor’kron wyvern riders circling past as they patrolled the area. And as I looked off into the distance, staring at the horizon more than anything, I started to make out wisps of smoke, faint black tendrils reaching up to the sky from old, spiteful fires that refused to go out completely, even after all this time.
Taurajo.
I turned from the window and stepped back into the room.
And then I grabbed one of the chairs arranged around the table and threw it against the wall. The chair broke into pieces. I ran over and grabbed them up, one after another, breaking them into smaller pieces and smashing them against the wall again. And then a second chair. And a third. Screaming with each one — AT each one.
I threw them around the room until the chairs were pieces and the pieces were splinters, smashing them against the walls and the floor and each other as if by breaking them enough I could force back the thoughts I couldn’t help thinking.
I ran across the room to a bookcase that stood against one wall and sent it toppling. Books spilled around the floor. I lunged down, hunched over, grabbed them by the fistful and hurled them against the walls. Watched them clatter back to the floor. It didn’t help. I grabbed up more of them, pulling them open, ripping them apart at the spines, flinging loose pages around until they fluttered uselessly down around me.
Fluttered like shimmering white wings.
I pounced back on the broken bookcase, yanked out one shelf, flung it across the room. It clattered to the floor. It didn’t break. I wrenched out a second shelf and threw it against the door, leaving a deep gash in the wood. That one didn’t break, either. Somehow that only made me angrier, sent me into a rage at its stubbornness, its stupid defiance, refusing to snap. How DARE it — how dare ANYTHING — and I ran to the door, grabbed up the fallen shelf, and beat it against the wall until it splintered.
It didn’t help. It wasn’t enough.
The door to the room opened and Malkorok leaned in. I only heard bits and pieces of whatever he said — something about the noise, and my yelling, and if I was all right. I spun on him, struck him across the face, then threw him back out of the room and down the stairs before slamming the door, rattling it on its hinges.
Today is not the day to ask me if I’m all right.
I grabbed one of the broken chair pieces and jammed the door shut. I wasn’t in any mood for interruptions, least of all from the likes of him.
The admiral’s bed — flung over, frame snapped, mattress torn open. Feathers floating through the air and scattering around the room. The nightstand next to the bed — lifted over my head and slammed down onto the floor, shattered awkwardly into pieces. Its single drawer split off awkwardly and spilled letters and trinkets across the floor. Part of it splintered off as I swung the nightstand down onto the floor and stabbed into my forearm. I barely felt it. I didn’t even notice until a spattering of blood started to dribble onto the letters and papers strewn around the floor.
It still wasn’t enough. It might never be enough.
Go be a hero, he told me. Go save the world. I did. We won. And all I had to do was kill him. All I had to do was burn Taurajo. All I had to do was become the final secret conspirator against our people in time of war, once upon a time. All I had to do was save traitors, destroy families, forsake all honor in the face of a battle too dire to be won any other way.
I don’t know how long I can stand to live in this world if these are the choices I have to make to save it.
I was racing around the room in circles, kicking at anything in reach, clawing pictures down off the walls. Only really half seeing what was around me, just grabbing anything I could, then throwing it or stomping it underfoot or breaking it over one knee. At some point I found myself spinning in place, roaring madly at nothing, and then threw myself at the table, beating it with both fists, pounding over and over until the wood buckled and the beams split and it all came crashing down and still there I was among the pieces on the floor.
I pulled myself up and looked around the ruins of the room, choking down air in gasps.
This room isn’t big enough. It isn’t big enough. Nothing in it is big enough.
I need something bigger.
We march tomorrow. Theramore burns.
[Wrathgate (wide shot) image provided by Angelya from Revive and Rejuvenate. Professor Putricide, Putress, and Cairne Bloodhoof (living) images provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click the links in this sentence to see the souped-up Postcard versions! All images used here with permission and many thanks.]
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.
Wrath of the Lich King
Show time.
The group assembled today on the Windrunner: me, both Saurfangs, Liadrin, Edwin, Jaina, Mokvar, Dontrag, and Utvoch. I figured the way the Scourge have swarmed through practically all of Northrend, I’d just as soon not leave anything to chance, which is why we brought so much heavy-artillery personnel. Drok and his crew had the ship ready to go, and we set off for the Nexus in Coldarra. Once we had the Focusing Iris, we’d head straight for Dalaran, where Jaina’s Kirin Tor friends would be ready to port us straight to the Caverns of Time.
We arrived at the Nexus and docked the ship on one of the upper ring platforms that was equipped with a teleportation orb. One problem: the platform was swarming with Scourge – all the platforms were. Vargul and skeletons mostly, with a couple necromancer types lurking around the back.
I’ll tell you, Mokvar was right the other day. This really wasn’t fair.
Between me whirlwinding through skeletons by the bushel, Liadrin Diving Storming her way right through the heart of them, Jaina flame-roasting undead in bunches, and – yup – Saurfangs Young and Old cleaving down everything in sight, it didn’t take us long to clear a path to the teleportation orb. The only down side was that those necromancers kept summoning more undead, and every so often a proto-drake would fly by and drop another damn vrykul to help keep the influx coming.
GARROSH: They’re not getting anywhere, but neither are we if we just stay up here all day killing these fuckers…
The necromancers cast another summoning spell, and some hundred new skeletons appear on the platform.
LIADRIN: <slashing by one of the vargul> We don’t all need to be up here – you go, I’ll stay and protect the ship.
GARROSH: You sure? There’s still an awful lot of them.
Liadrin rushes into a cluster of vargul, dropping them all with another spinning Divine Storm. As she finishes her follow-through, she lands on one knee, slamming the Ashbringer down onto the platform floor; a shimmering flash of yellow-white light bursts from the Ashbringer and shoots out in a horizontal shockwave in all directions. The light rips through the skeletons and sends them spilling onto the floor, burning with holy fire. Still on one knee, Liadrin tilts her head up at Garrosh.
LIADRIN: I’m not worried.
Jaina runs to a clear area near the gunship and starts channeling a spell. A glowing blue runic circle begins to appear on the floor beneath her.
JAINA: ’m placing a portal marker here. Once we have the Focusing Iris, I’ll be able to teleport us directly back.
Several more vargul drop onto the platform. While Liadrin engages them, several val’kyr and gargoyles descend down over the Windrunner.
SAURFANG: <rushing back to the gunship and cleaving through gargoyles> I’ll stay back as well to help guard the ship.
MOKVAR: Well now you’re just running up the score on them.
SAURFANG: The rest of you – go!
DRANOSH: You all heard the man. Let’s get moving.
We took the teleportation orb into the Nexus. The sight that greeted us froze us all in our tracks. Around the circular room and down every hall, the ground was littered with the lifeless bodies of blue dragons. We all just stared for a minute while the sight sunk in. I think it hit Jaina the hardest, what with her probably having had some dealings with the blues over the years. She knelt down over one of the dead dragons and put a hand over its face.
JAINA: This… I know her. This is… Her name is…was Kirygosa. She was a daughter of Malygos…
UTVOCH: Wait, when you said there were going to be a lot of dragons here, I thought you meant they were going to be alive.
GARROSH: …Seriously?
FARANELL: That’s got to be an act, right? I mean he can’t possibly really be that stupid.
MOKVAR: Dontrag and Utvoch: raising the bar on lowering the bar, since the dawn of time.
DONTRAG: Hey, I didn’t say anything!
GARROSH: Yet.
DRANOSH: <surveying the halls> Most of the… <glances back at Jaina, then lowers his voice slightly> …most of the blood seems fresh. Whoever did this did it fairly recently.
GARROSH: Probably still nearby.
Jaina stands slowly, still looking down at the bodies.
JAINA: Kalecgos considered her one of his dearest friends…
DRANOSH: The next time you see him, you can tell him all about the world of pain we brought down on the ones who did this to her.
GARROSH: It has to be the Scourge, based on upstairs. Not sure why they’d be coming after the blue dragons, though.
JAINA: At this point, they’re one of the only major powers left between them and all of Northrend… It was only a matter of time before they struck here.
GARROSH: That’s the thing, though – yeah, they have the Horde and Alliance on the ropes, but why wouldn’t they finish them off first, THEN take on the dragons? The Lich King has to know he’s got the upper hand. Why divide his efforts?
DRANOSH: Maybe he wants to finish both off quickly?
GARROSH: All the time we were up here fighting him, did you ever know Arthas to be impatient?
JAINA: He’s not. Anymore.
DRANOSH: <shrugs> Either way. I am the impatient type – let’s go find that Focusing Iris and let it be finished.
We made our way deeper into the Nexus, finding more slain dragons all the way. As we worked our way down a long, descending passageway, we could hear sounds of combat, and reptilian cries of pain. I ordered Dontrag and Utvoch to make sure they kept Edwin safe under pain of so-much-worse-than-death-your-admittedly-limited-brains-would-melt-just-trying-to-imagine-it. The bottom of the passage was dark and filled with shadows. As the floor leveled out from the end of our descent, we turned a corner and came to a doorway.
The room was large and circular, with crystalline patterns in the walls and floor, like so many of the other rooms here. In the center of the room, hovering in the air of its own accord, was the Focusing Iris – an enormous blue orb, glowing with arcane power. On the far side of the room, four humanoids – a human, a tauren, and a pair of dwarves – all wearing armor like that of a death knight, stood over bodies of blue dragons. More bodies filled the room, and the air reeked with the smell of draconic blood. Two more death knights, a draenei and a troll, flanked the doorway on either side, and as we came around the corner they called out a warning.
And as the sentries cried out, in the center of the room, out from behind the Focusing Iris stepped Tirion Fordring. Covered in spiked black armor, wielding a runeblade, eyes glowing a deathly pale blue. I’ll tell you, I was never crazy about Tirion, but this was still horrible to see. Even Tirion deserved better than this.
TIRION: <grinning broadly> Ah, how serendipitous! It appears fate has set us all upon a parallel venture, and I find myself reunited with personages of no small familiarity. I greet you all, good orcs and humans, and welcome you to the curtain’s rise on the final act of this grand endeavor!
GARROSH: By the spirits…
Tirion gestures to his minions.
DRANOSH: What?
Tirion’s Deathbringers rush at the group, blades poised.
GARROSH: He still loves to talk.
Jaina casts a Cone of Cold that slows the death knights’ approach.
DRANOSH: <shrugs> Time to do what we do. Lok’tar!
GARROSH: For the Horde!
DONTRAG and UTVOCH: For the Horde!
MOKVAR: For the Horde!
JAINA: Um, actually…
Jaina exchanges a shrug with Faranell.
Okay. Whatever.
Garrosh, Dranosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch rush forward to engage the Deathbringers, and the two groups battle back and forth, with Tirion lurking by the Focusing Iris, watching and taunting.
TIRION: Good, my glorious vassals, unleash your fury and show these intruders the fate that awaits those who would interfere with the work of our dread lord the Lich King! Woe be to any who stand against us! Their ruined bodies shall be the latest paving the way to our inevitable dominion over this world!
GARROSH: <exchanging blows with the tauren> The hell are you even HERE for, Tirion? What do you fuckers even want with the Focusing Iris?
TIRION: Well could I ask you the same, young Hellscream! But as it will profit you naught, I will tell you, so that you might meet your end knowing the full scope of your failure, and indeed the hand you and your ilk have had in bringing forth this very hour!
DRANOSH: <aside> That’s it, get him monologuing…
GARROSH: <aside> He’s going to be monologuing anyway, might as well get him going on something useful maybe…
Dranosh and Garrosh continue pushing back the tauren and human. Dontrag and Utvoch spar with the two dwarves, aided by chain lightning from Mokvar, while Jaina launches a seething fireball that incinerates the troll.
TIRION: Did you truly believe your ill-fated ploy to deny the Lich King your precious Sunwell would go unanswered? That the master of the Scourge would be halted by your sad, trifling magician’s tricks? You merely delayed the inevitable; and now, with the Focusing Iris in hand, the Lich King’s mightiest seers will shatter the meddlesome bubble conjured by that poor, doomed, suddenly so very solitary dragon Kalecgos—
Jaina lets loose another pair of fireballs, finishing the dwarven death knights fighting Dontrag and Utvoch.
JAINA: Kalcgos’ flight had no part in this war, Tirion! The old you – the real you – he would be sickened to see what you’ve done to these innocents!
TIRION: Oh, Lady Proudmoore, do not be so naïve as to think the blues innocent – or yourself. It was Kalecgos who chose to throw in his lot with your kind and aid in your foolish charade at the Sunwell, and all of you who interfered in the Scourge’s march. The Lich King was content to leave these pitiable lizards be – for now. It was you who forced his hand, you who altered his plans, you who made the Focusing Iris a necessary implement—
DRANOSH: Spirits, he likes to talk…
GARROSH: Dude, you have NO IDEA.
TIRION: —and you, all of you, who helped bring this fate upon the Blue Dragonflight today! From their blood shall flow the coming of a new age for this world! From their deaths shall be forged a new future, bathed in carnage!
JAINA: <gathering a fiery glow in her hands> You want carnage? Arthas will have more blood than he ever bargained for!
Jaina unleashes a massive fireball that tears through the draenei death knight and badly burns the tauren and human – whom Dranosh and Garrosh quickly finish off – and hurls Tirion back against the far wall.
DRANOSH: Remind me not to piss her off.
GARROSH: No shit, right?
Tirion pulls himself up and faces the group.
TIRION: You all shall pay dearly for—
DRANOSH: <charging in and knocking Tirion a few steps back> Pro tip, Tirion – when your boys are taking it on the chin, might be a good idea to stop running your mouth for a minute and help them out.
Garrosh joins in, and Tirion begins scrambling to deflect both orcs’ blows.
TIRION: You think I fear you, boy? Through the Lich King I have seen power the likes of which you cannot comprehend! By his will I have cast off death itself, and risen anew, ascended, greater than I might ever have dreamed in my former, paltry, limited existence! You do not know what you trifle with, you—
As Dranosh and Garrosh unleash a flurry of blows from both sides, Jaina singes Tirion with a surge of flame, then freezes him in place with a frost nova, throwing off his footing.
GARROSH: Tirion…
Garrosh locks one of his axes in a parry with Tirion, then drops his second axe from his free hand and swings his fist under the runeblade and into Tirion’s gut.
Shut.
Garrosh breaks the parry, forcing Tirion’s blade hand to swing to one side, where Dranosh hacks it away at the wrist.
The fuck.
Garrosh and Dranosh bring their axes down from either side, slamming viciously into the base of Tirion’s neck.
UP!
Tirion slumps lifeless to the floor.
JAINA: <looking down sadly at the body> You have been missed, old friend. May your spirit finally find its rest now.
MOKVAR: Okay, let’s get what we came for and go.
JAINA: Let me get it into a more manageable form…
Jaina holds her hands out to the Focusing Iris and begins channeling beams of arcane magic into it. Slowly, the Focusing Iris shrinks until it has been reduced to a shimmering blue sphere about a foot in diameter, hovering in the air.
There…now we just need to—
Jaina is interrupted by a shadowy, purple tendril of magic that lashes out at her from the doorway and yanks her back toward it. Her body flies backward through the air and – with a hideous slicing sound – into a blade held out from the dark hallway:
Frostmourne.
As Dranosh steps in to catch the falling Focusing Iris, the Lich King strides into the room, Jaina’s body still impaled on the runebalde.
LICH KING: Impressive…
The Lich King shakes Frostmourne, dropping Jaina’s body to the ground.
Most impressive.
UTVOCH: Okay, this isn’t so bad, there’s just one of him against all of us…
The Lich King drives Frostmourne’s blade into the floor, releasing a shockwave that knocks the group back against the far wall of the room. As they recover, the Lich King hold Frostmourne aloft and begins channeling a spell.
LICH KING: Now then…a further test…
Crackling purple energy shoots out of Frostmourne in all directions. Slowly, the dozens of dragon corpses around the room begin to rise, eyes glowing a dull blue, bodies withered and gaunt.
GARROSH: Oh…shit…
DONTRAG: You really have to keep your mouth shut, Ut.
The nearest few reanimated dragons rush at them. Garrosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch step in to intercept them and start to fight them back, with Mokvar and Faranell casting spells at them from behind.
The Lich King continues channeling. After a few seconds, Jaina’s body rises from the floor; her hair has turned white save for a single blonde streak, and her eyes shimmer with a lifeless blue glow. She looks around the room, then faces the Lich King.
JAINA: A-Arthas…?
LICH KING: I have missed you…my Queen.
Jaina grins hideously, turns, and unleashes an enormous fireball that incinerates two of the dragons on its way toward Faranell.
DONTRAG: Doc!
UTVOCH: Look out!
Dontrag lunges at Faranell while Utvoch rushes in from the opposite side. Dontrag shoves Faranell out of the fireball’s path, just before the flames reduce both him and Utvoch to smoldering heaps of ash.
DRANOSH: Edwin! Jaina was our ride out. That’s your job now – port us out of here, and fast!
FARANELL: But— I’m not that powerful a mage!
Dranosh shoves the Focusing Iris into Faranell’s hands; a bluish white glow shimmers over his body.
DRANOSH: You are now. Fire it up!
Garrosh and Mokvar – both fighting dragons – back up toward Dranosh and Faranell. Faranell closes his eyes, mutters an incantation, and teleports the group away in a blinding flash.
We reappeared up on the ring platform where we’d docked – a few yards off from Jaina’s targeting rune, but hey, I’m not going to nitpick over a clutch save from Edwin. When we appeared, we were greeted by the sight of an enormous pile of Scourge corpses that formed a hill leading up to the Windrunner. Dozens of vargul, hundreds of ghouls and skeletons, val’kyr, geists, a couple frost wyrms…and sitting on top of the pile were Liadrin and Saurfang, taking turns drinking from a waterskin.
LIADRIN: <looks up at them> What kept you?
DRANOSH: We had guests.
GARROSH: Come on, everyone get on the ship.
SAURFANG: Where are the others? Lady Proudmoore, and the…cerebrally inexpansive duo?
GARROSH: They didn’t make it.
SAURFANG: What happened?
DRANOSH: Arthas is here.
LIADRIN: By the Light… Get on board, and quickly!
GARROSH: What happened to you not being worried?
LIADRIN: I wasn’t.
DRANOSH: Fire it up, Captain! Top speed to Dalaran!
The group boards the Windrunner, which disembarks from the platform. After a moment, the ship shakes and creaks, then begins to slide slowly backwards.
DRANOSH: Um, Drok? I don’t think I said anything about reverse.
DROK: We’re still on full ahead, sir, I don’t—
GARROSH: Uh, I think you guys might want to have a look at this…
They turn to look back at the ring platform, where the Lich King now stands, channeling a dark purple band of energy from his hand that grips the gunship, and using it to slowly tug the ship back toward the Nexus.
MOKVAR: He’s— he’s death-gripping the ship! How is he death-gripping the whole ship?!
DRANOSH: Drok, this would be a good time to give the engines a little extra – we’ve got to get out of here!
DROK: I’m giving them everything she’s got, sir! I can’t change the laws of physics!
Saurfang stands at the railing, watching as the Lich King slowly drags the gunship back toward him. Saurfang looks back at Dranosh, then to Garrosh.
SAURFANG: He’s looked out for you since you were children.
Garrosh gives a quizzical look, then nods.
Look out for him now.
Saurfang turns and launches himself off the deck, toward the platform below.
FOR THE HORDE!
Saurfang barrels into the Lich King and they both crash onto the floor. With the Lich King’s death grip broken, the gunship lurches forward again and starts to pull away from the Nexus.
DRANOSH: Father! No!
Garrosh intercepts Dranosh as he rushes to the edge of the ship and pulls him back.
GARROSH: Get us OUT of here, Captain!
DRANOSH: <spinning back toward Drok, still in Garrosh’s grip> No! Turn us around, Drok, we have to—
Garrosh spins Dranosh back to face him.
GARROSH: You know what he’s doing! DON’T LET IT BE FOR NOTHING!
Dranosh stops struggling. Garrosh releases him, and as the gunship continues its escape, he walks to the railing and looks down at the platform, where the Lich King knocks Saurfang away from him.
LICH KING: Foolish old orc! You dare stand against me? Do you know how many of your kind I’ve slain?
SAURFANG: You…murdered…children. <draws his axe> You answer to Saurfang now!
Saurfang charges the Lich King furiously, cleaving and slashing with his axe. The Lich King parries with Frostmourne, and the two grapple back and forth as the platform shrinks from view.
I’m writing from the Windrunner now. We should reach Dalaran soon. I’ll update again when I can, if the news is good. If it isn’t, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here to keep updating.
In the meantime, we continue on our way to Dalaran.
In silence.
[Header image of the Nexus provided by regular reader and commenter ZugZug. Gunship image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click here to see the souped-up Postcard version! Both images used with permission and many thanks.]
