Tag Archives: goblins
Monday mailbag
Just got back to Orgrimmar a little while ago. I checked in with the shamans over in the Valley of Wisdom about Gurtash. They’re still working on him, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to have anything solid to say for a while yet. All we really know right now is that that spectral minion got him good…the fucker managed to get a good rip in on the kid in exactly the wrong areas, the head and chest. They made it sound like they’re not going to able to say much for sure for a while still, so apparently I’m just going to have to kill time till then. So, I guess this is as good a time as any to clear out some more of this mail backlog.
So… the last mailbag made an impression for sure, what with it including a letter from some goblin guy that ran on for so long that I’m fairly sure I still won’t finish reading it until sometime next Tuesday. With that in mind…
Dat quite da letter, Grottee Metalbeard. I’d recommend splittin’ it into more paragraphs next time, though. Ol’ Garry — *quickly scratches out the former and substitutes in “Warchief” — can only handle so much.
–Alayea
P.S. Though Fordring say he speechless, he sure ain’t one ta talk. =P
Oh, Fordring is one to talk, Alayea. To talk, and talk, and talk, and oh, by the way, did I mention talk? But yeah…that was a letter and a half last time. Actually, it was more like 6.2 letters. Maybe more. No less, though. You’d be amazed what a difference even a tenth of a letter makes. 6.1 would contain surprisingly little content.
Eheheh, sorry about all that Warchief. I was on a Kaja’cola binge when I wrote my letter.
Anyway, I’ll drop Blackfuse a line to let him know you’re interested. Protip: The key to keeping his attention is to keep mentioning money.
–Grottee Metalbeard
Oh, and check it out, look who’s back. So…how much Kaja’cola did you choke down before you wrote that letter? Is there any left? Anywhere? Or is that shit just really potent? I can’t say I’ve ever tried the stuff, so I’m not really in much position to say. Sounds like it has the same kind of effect as that kafa stuff from Pandaria that Ruekie’s always drinking. Man, you should see her with a couple cups of that stuff in her. Haste buff like you wouldn’t believe. I’m at least 50% sure one more cup would shave all her spells down to instant cast.
Anyway, yeah, feel free to contact that Blackfuse dude for me. Might be a good idea for you let me know where I can reach him so I can see about making contact directly, too. Is he over in the goblin part of town in Orgrimmar, or up in Azshara, or doing business somewhere else? Either way, yeah, I kind of figured the way to his heart was through his wallet. I mean, come on, he’s a goblin. I know how you guys are wired.
Oh, and before all you crybabies get your panties in a bunch about me saying that, because racist this and stereotype that and boo hoo hoo, I give you Exhibit A:
Got another question for ya! What’s the big deal with my fellow Horde members shirking their duty in Alterac Valley? Are the Frostwolves really a bunch of pansies now that Big T went all hippy peace and love, or are they just scared of the beards on them Stormpikes? If it’s the beards, I totally got an answer for that!
You see my company, Sparkbolt Enterprises, has recently come into some great explosives. And by great, I mean “how in the burning hells is this stuff still legal?!” We pack it up nice and tight in the best elementium plating we can find (and boy howdy was there a TON of that stuff lying around when Deathwing was killed off), primed and ready to be launched at the face of any Alliance foe you can imagine! I like to call it the Sparkbolt Facemelter™! For best results, aim at dwarves or the sissy pandas that went for the Blue and Gold. It’s like watching an explosive sheep in an oil refinery! Just watch out for friendly fire and people within range of the discharge explosion. Also, wear heavy protective armor when setting one of these bad boys off! My, uh, my cousin Vinny didn’t and his face literally got melted. Makes the family reunions awkward, I can tell ya that much. 10,000 gold will get ya 100 quality Facemelters, primed and ready to roll! (shipping and handling is an extra 5,000. We disavow any responsibility, legal, moral, or otherwise, for misuse or improper storage of our products.)
*attached is a handy order form and catalogue for other Sparkbolt products*
Pleasure doing business with ya,
–Glessee “Glitch” Sparkbolt, Founder and CEO of Sparkbolt Enterprises
Yeah. So. Thanks?
But okay…I want to make sure I’m following this correctly, because listen, if there’s one guy you DON’T have to sell on the idea of blowing up Allies, it’s me. Like it’s really, REALLY me. So… you’re trying to sell me explosives that you have to armor yourself to the teeth just to use, and still stay out of the range…hang on, what IS the “range of the discharge explosion”? Like how far away from this thing do you have to BE? Because you’re making it sound pretty damn huge, which would mean that it would be nearly impossible even to USE the damn thing without being taken out by it. Which means the only way I could even put these things into action would be to use my own people as living cannon fodder, and send them out there armed with these things to blow up targets knowing full well they’re gonna get melted themselves. Which sounds like it’s straight out of Psychotic War of Attrition 101.
So what I’m telling you is, I’ll go as high as 8000 for the pack of 100, shipped, but you’re not getting a copper more than that.
Fucking price-gouging goblins.
Being a big fan of your poetic skills, I just have to say,
There once was a goblin from Ratchet.
Go!
–Whizzy Greaseknuckle, from a neutral coastal town that may or may not be in the Northern Barrens
The fuck is up with all the goblins this time around? Is there some kind of coupon going around online for a “free with proof of your letter to Garrosh” deal or some shit?
Anyhow, though, you know what? You’re on.
There once was a goblin from Ratchet
Whose wits weren’t as sharp as a hatchet.
She launched a Facemelter™,
Ducked in her bomb shelter,
But, sadly, neglected to latch it.
EPIC VERSE!
I am Lantresor of the Blade. Perhaps you do not remember me, though I do remember you. If you do remember me, it’s probably about how my clan, the Boulderfist ogres, attacked the village of your friend Jorin Deadeye – which they did, but the peace settlement I made with you should make that square.
At any rate, I’m writing in from the Burning Blade Ruins because I noticed you have a daughter – Shayari, was it? – who is half-orc and half-draenei. That makes at least three of us in this world, I see – her, Garona Halforcen and myself. I am the inversion of your daughter, physically our unique my body is that of an orc with draenei traits; notably, I am taller than an average orc, my shoulders are broader and my skin is an off-blue colour.
I sympathise with her experiences – they are not unlike those of my own. My father was a draenei scout, my mother an orc of the Burning Blade Clan. Sadly, the blood war between my parents’ people came when I was young. My mother raised me alone as best she could, my father being too dead to help, but in the end, I am half-orc and half-draenei – because of which, in the end I would be seen as neither.
I had barely completed my rite of passage when my enemies in the clan had me cast out shortly after they came to power. My father’s people, as you can imagine, could not bare to look upon me, for I was a reflection of their death. I was fortunate enough to still find a place in the Horde, where I would serve under the banner of two warchiefs. Now, though, I bow to no one. Instead, I am a ruler. A ruler of ogres.
Most of our kind were wiped out decades ago, though who was most responsible I do not know. I do know, however, that most would live their lives as outcasts, labelled and cast aside. Victims of their heritage. This world is no good to those of us who are half- anything. We stand forever apart; few know us, and fewer still understand us. For that reason I carry immense respect for Rexxar and his kind, the Mok’Nathal. They have lived as outcasts even longer than I have, yet they remain strong, if insular and distrusftul.
I write this letter not seeking your pity, but as a gesture to your daughter. The things she and I have been forced to learn, the things we have endured and suffered, the rejection, the shame… they are things only the children of orcs and draenei can know. If she has lived this long, it is a testament to her strength and independence; not all such children had it in them to take on the challenges and struggles our unique heritage presents. I, for one, applaud her, inasmuch as that means anything to either of you.
As an addendum, tell your daughter the next time you see her that she is not alone as a half-orc/draenei. Tell her that Lantresor of the Blade knows and understands – and finally, that if she ever needs my aid, or that of Boulderfist, she has only to ask.
–Lantresor of the Blade
Huh. Well THAT’S someone I wasn’t expecting to get a letter from. Not least of all because I wouldn’t have guessed Lantresor read the blog. Actually, hang on – the ogres out in Nagrand have INTERNET access? Grizzle Fucking Gearslip can’t set up a wireless network in Domination Point that doesn’t make the computer literally urinate on the desk, but the fucking OGRES on a shattered planet have GOOGLE? How the hell did THAT happen?!
Anyway.
I do remember you, Lantresor. Although, not for nothing, but I wouldn’t go so far as calling Jorin my “friend.” Yeah, we both grew up in Garadar, but he was…well, he was always kind of a dick. Especially once he got wind of some of the uglier details about Grom, and decided it would be a hoot of a good time to keep reminding me of them at every turn. So, you know, that whole thing where you rolling his village. Boo hoo. Fuck ’im.
Anyhow, thanks for reaching out about Shayari. I haven’t really thought that much about the whole half-breed thing, but it probably makes sense that she’d do well to have someone she can talk to who’s in the same boat. And considering the only other option for that would be Garona, well…yeah… I don’t really know you, Lantresor, but I’m pretty sure you’d be the better option. Seeing as I haven’t seen any overt signs of fucking migraine-inducing crazy from you. Plus, Garona seems to get all cranky whenever anybody mentions Shay around her. Who knows.
As it happens, I think one of my trainees is on track to be around your neck of the woods soon, so if it’s all good by you, I may have her swing by your way to introduce herself. Think of her as sort of an emissary, entrusted with a crucial matter of cross-cultural diplomacy because…well…she was going to be in the neighborhood anyway. So if a young orc by the name of Mirembe comes toddling on over, try not to have your ogre buddies step on her. She’s not as squishy as a lot of kids her age, and more than a little better at shield-slamming, but still, you know, why court trouble?
And speaking of whom…
I know I’ve been writing in a lot, but it’s better to hear how my training goes here than in some silly report, right? And since you asked, I’m a Warsong orc too! My parents were grunts in Grom’s squad during the Third War. The necklace wasn’t from my first kills, so don’t worry!
I made it to Nagrand at last! Your Greatmother is awesome! She welcomed me, sat me down, and gave me a big bowl of clefthoof stew. I think I might gain weight out here from how often she asks me if I wanna eat something. If it’s not stew, it’s talbuk steak. If it’s not talbuk steak, it’s frenzy fish fry. She even offered me a sandwich made from leftover clefthoof roast one night after dinner! I won’t complain, though. The extra pounds might help me with a problem I’ve been having out here.
I met that Jorin guy. He seemed pretty crabby about some ogres or something. I wasn’t paying much attention until he told me to go kill those ogres. How long has this been going on with him? Anyway, to get back to my problem, he looks at me in creepy ways. Like how I’ve seen orcs in Shattrath stare at those draae…drenn…spacegoat girls. It’s gotten so bad, I stay with Greatmother most of the time now. What can I do to make him stop? Even threatening to smash his skull with my shield doesn’t work!
Help!
–Mirembe
Hey, Mirembe. Glad to hear the training is coming along. Just make sure you watch your portions while you’re out there – Greatmother piles the food on any guests who show up in town, and packing on the extra points isn’t going to do any favors to your dodge rating. Sure, she’s a nice old lady and everything, but you still need to be able to tell her “no thank you,” and then, when “no thank you” doesn’t even slow her down when she’s ladling out your ninth serving of clefthoof stew, you need to be able to get up from the table and walk away. And then keep walking, because she will FOLLOW your ass around town trying to get you to eat up, because you’re getting too skinny, and for FUCK’S sake make sure you keep a good pace going so you can stay ahead of her. She might be an old woman, but she’s fucking SPRY.
As for Jorin, speak of the devil, I was just answering another letter from this guy who…
Hang on.
You’re saying Jorin had you out killing ogres? Ogres that he was all cranky about? Like…the ogres who attacked his village back in the day… and who I arranged a TRUCE with way back before I moved to Orgrimmar? The ogres who are… um… led by…Lantresor of the Blade, who was JUST writing to me and trying to be nice and shit, and who I told I was going to send you to as a kind of emissary, only that was before I knew you were running around killing his fucking people, because evidently, according to Jorin, having a cease-fire in place for like four years is no reason not to send unsuspecting noobs (no offense, Mira) to KILL the people we have the cease-fire with because stomp stomp hissy fit? THOSE ogres?
FOR FUCK’S SAKE, JORIN. I mean, seriously. Fuck that guy. Um…not literally, Mirembe. Not literally. You don’t want to encourage him. Like at all.
And speaking of Jorin and his leering… yeah. He was always kind of a creeper. Twice the creepy looks with half the eyes. The best thing to do, really, it probably to try to steer clear of him. But you want to know the real secret weapon? Next time you catch Jorin popping his one good peeper at you, high-tail it over to Greatmother and fill her in on what he’s been up to. Believe me, that old lady doesn’t put up with any crap, and I can tell you from first-hand experience that if he sets her off, she will drop the clefthoof stew in two seconds flat to run over there and serve up a big steaming bowl of Pull Your Head Out of Your Fucking Ass, Jorin.
If THAT doesn’t work…hoo boy. All I can think of at that point if to remind the fucker that he’s already down to just one good eye, and if he can’t keep THAT eye from ogling where it shouldn’t be, SOMEBODY might have to take that one, too. Which may or may not give him an updated vision of how he’s going to die.
Maybe THAT’ll finally get through to him. Because, you know, it’s all fun and games until someone loses and eye, but it’s even BIGGER fun when they lose the other…
Erm…
Never mind.
I’m going to wrap up here. I’ve got to head over to the Valley of Wisdom and check in. On a few things. Keep the letters coming, e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com, handy form below, yadda yadda.
More soon.
[Next mailbag: June 1!]
Monday mailbag
Okay, peeps, time to hack through a little more of this backlog of letters. Here we go.
As an amateur artist myself, I’m always interested in others’ artistic work. Lately I’ve been taking particular interest in the artistry that went into your tattoos. I’m curious if they have any special meaning, like certain markings indicating anything specifically. They look like someone put a lot of effort into the intricate detailing. And placement.
No, really, that’s why I’ve been staring. I’m studying. The tattoos.
Also, speaking of artwork, tell Gurtash to keep up the good work, I’ve been enjoying watching his drawings develop. Is there any chance that some of his drawings of you might become available as pinups? I’m just curious. I’d like to help support a budding young artist, you see.
Innocently yours,
–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City
Uh huh. Yup.
#TheLadiesLoveGarrosh
But to answer your question, Tandeleina (do you have any nicknames, by the way? not for nothing, but your name is seriously a bitch to type)… The tattoos are Warsong ceremonial markings, done by Vanteg from back in Nagrand. I talked about this a little once before, but I guess I never really touched on what the tattoos actually mean. Because they DO mean things – they’re not just some fancy scribbles that somebody doodled all over me at random and hoped they would look badass. Well, except when Gurtash draws them, because honestly, he DOES just kind of doodle them all over me, like I can just imagine him spending all day working on one of those sketches of me, and struggling like hell to recreate all that awesome on paper, and then he gets to the end and realizes he still needs to do the tattoos, only at that point he’s all tired and spent from the whole exercise so he’s like “oh fuck it” and scribbles a bunch of vaguely stripey shapes on me. Because, see, in reality, unlike Gurtash’s drawings, my tattoos are NOT different shapes in different locations every single time you look at me. Kid’s got a good eye in general, I guess, but apparently getting that much right calls for TWO good eyes.
But I digress.
Anyway, the tattoos fall into two groups, the ones on my back and the ones on my shoulders and arms. The markings on my arms stand for the major victories and achievements of my family line, with the earliest accomplishments being represented around my shoulders, then working their way toward the present as they continue down my arms. So as you trace down each arm, you can follow the achievements of my grandfather, Golmash, then Grommash and Lakkara, then me. They all pretty much look like interchangeable stripes to the untrained eye, but see, there are all these little subtle variations, where the bands get thicker or narrower, where there are little nicks and indentations, where there are curves and where they stay straight… every little detail is symbolic for something. You’ll also notice, the tattoos only run down to about my elbows. I had Vanteg do that deliberately, so there’d be room for me to add more tattoos down the rest of my arms as time goes on. Who knows, now that it turns out I’m not the last of the line, maybe if Shay does something big one day, I can get myself inked up a little more to cover that.
Meanwhile, the tattoos on my back mean something else. See, the accomplishments of my family go on my arms, because the arms stand for deeds and actions. The back, on the other hand, stands for the…well, the backbone. The framework that supports everything else. So the markings on my back symbolize different qualities that are valued in the Warsong clan or within my family line. So there’s one marking that means loyalty, and one marking that means prowess in battle, and another marking that means strength of will, and then there’s that one stray marking on the left side of my back that means Vanteg should have known to put the fucking needle down for a minute when he felt the hiccups coming on. By the by, he’s got a marking of his own now that symbolizes that very same thing, only it’s not made of fucking ink.
So there you go, ladies. Now you have an excuse to take a good long look next time you see me tooling around Orgrimmar. It’s not leering, it’s exegesis! I’ll know the truth, but that can just be our little secret. You’re welcome.
Wazzup? Long time reader, first time writer here. Anyway, I got a bit of a problem I was hoping you’d take care of for me. Could you call off your Kor’kron mooks every time I come into the city to sell my goods? I’m a loyal citizen of the Horde and a skilled engineer, and I haven’t stolen anything I ain’t earned through good and honest–whoa I almost got that out legit there.
Anyway, all I do is sell inferior gnome engineered products to promote how much more AWESOME goblin engineered products are (not to mention that there’s less of a chance of turning into a chicken when you use ’em), but every time, your Kor’kron goons come over and harass me outta my stall! Since I’m already paying protection to the Tinker’s Guild and the Trade Prince, if I gotta start paying you, I wouldn’t even be breaking even profit-wise! What’s a girl gotta do to make some semi-honest coin around here?
–Glessee “Glitch” Sparkbolt, Sparkbolt Enterprises
Hey, Glitch, thanks for writing. What the hell took you so long? Freaking lazy-ass goblins. Anyhow.
So let me get the straight. Your business plan…is to sell stuff that you know going in is crap…so people can SEE that it’s crap…and then not buy it anymore…and then go to someone ELSE who’s selling BETTER stuff and buy from THEM? So you’re telling them, “Goblin products are awesome – and I’m not selling them! So you better go give your money to someone who isn’t me”? That’s your business model?
I’m going to stick my neck way, way out and guess that you don’t exactly have investors lined up around the block to sink money into this operation.
So as far as the Kor’kron go, see, there isn’t any law against selling gnomish products, but if you’re causing a nuisance with your junk, then yeah, they’re going to come over and stop the operation and make sure you don’t give any more people cause to register complaints.
So here’s the question for you: When you were getting “harassed” out of your stall, HAD you just turned a would-be customer into a chicken? How about a frog? Did you just make somebody’s mother-in-law seven feet taller? Did you just give some horny teenager x-ray vision? (Fucking hell save us if that kind of tech drops into a certain pair of doodle-prone hands I know.) Did you just go “one two three kablooey” and turn somebody’s hat into a bowl lime sherbet? Did you give somebody a free trial of a teleportation device only instead of taking them to the Barrens it popped them into a parallel dimension made entirely out of shrimp, only when you pulled them back it split them into two copies of themselves, one with all the good and noble qualities and one with all the evil nasty stuff, but neither of them are strong enough to survive on their own, plus there’s the persistent uncontrollable toxic flatulence?
Because seriously, once you open the can of worms that is gnomish tech, no outcome is too ridiculous to be off the menu. That’s why, at the end of the day, I DO prefer goblin products. At least with those, you know they’re only ever going to blow up in your face LITERALLY.
I finally decided to give Earth Online a try after reading about your adventures there. It’s a pretty fun game! I decided to follow in your footsteps and roll a teacher class. I’m coming up on the end of the university starter zone, and I’ve been doing okay with the student teacher proving grounds, but since I’m about to venture off the safe confines of campus, I was wondering if you had any helpful tips on playing a teacher successfully in the big wide world?
–Gurda Ragescar, Splintertree Post
Thanks for writing, Gurda. Glad you’re liking the game. The teacher class is a tricky one, what with all the lesson plan juggling and management of your minions, but it can be pretty fun once you work out how you’re going to do things. A lot of stuff is going to depend on how you’re specced, like if you’ve got more of a science or orcities (what those Alliance buggers probably call humanities) build, so I don’t want to get too deep into specifics that might not apply to you. But, I can give you a few things you might want to keep in mind.
First, when you’re dealing with your minions and issuing them commands, you need to spam those keybindings. Do not – repeat, DO NOT – make the mistake of thinking you can press the button once to tell the brats to do something and then sit back pleased as can be expecting them to go do it. There is ZERO chance they’re going to do what you tell them until you click on it at least three or four times. Same thing goes for when you try to up their skills. You want to boost them up a skill point, you need to hit that train button six or seven times. It will not take otherwise. It’ll bounce right off their stubborn little heads. You might think I’m crazy, but just you watch – try sending them off on a mission, only hit the assignment key once, then come back when the mission is supposed to be done, and watch the blank looks on their faces, like they’re saying, “Oh…did you want me to do something?”
Second, sometimes when you’re dealing with one of your minions, it’ll spawn this older-looking NPC that’ll aggro on you and initiate a parent-teacher conference solo scenario. Those can be tricky. You’ve got to improvise on the fly as far as the parent’s mechanics, but basically, you need to wear them down until they stop being hostile and turn friendly. At that point, they’ll help you reinforce whatever you’re trying to get your minions to do. Here’s the catch, though: some of the parents will be really easy to get on your side, and some of them will be damn near impossible – like infuriatingly so. And the funny part is, the easy parents are the ones whose kids were pretty easy for you to handle in the first place, so you probably don’t really NEED help from the parents. But those are the ones that spawn more often. But the harder parents? Yeah, they’re tough to deal with, but they’re kind of worth it, because THEIR kids are frigging impossible to handle, so you NEED all the help you can get with them…only those parents almost never spawn. It’s like they don’t want to be bothered with the little brats, so good luck ever getting them to show for a conference.
When you’re grinding out your paper-grading dailies, DO NOT try to do too many of them in one sitting. If you try to grind out too many at once, your patience bar will burn out way too quickly and you’ll end up giving D’s to everyone in the bottom half of the pile.
That’s it as far as suggestions. One fun thing to look out for, though – when you’re going around the world away from your school, keep an eye out for your minions. It won’t happen often, but every once in a while you’ll randomly run into one of them wandering around the world. Keep an eye open, and watch them when that happens – they will freak the fuck out, like they’re totally dumbstruck by the fact that you exist out in the regular world. I just get a kick out of watching them panic and scramble around all confused. Maybe it’s just me.
The name’s Grottee Metalbeard. You know, that goblin who came to see you with a letter from your old buddy Thrall. Of course, you probably remember better from when a message with my name on it was sent to your Live Blog a coupla weeks back. Darndest thing: that wasn’t me.
Turns out, my assistant Mindy found my password and logged in a few hundred times when I wasn’t around – after all, a shaman’s work is never done. That little question about the Warsong? Her doing. It’s a good question, but I wasn’t gonna ask it, so she did.
Good news is, I finally know why I’m getting all those meal deal emails. And how my old boss Gallywix somehow found out about my recent fling with an old friend, Sassy Hardwrench, during one of my trips to Stranglethorn. (I knew all those gossip magazines were hiding something from me!)
The bad news is, I’m now in the market for a new assistant. And a new office. Turns out she blew it up with smuggled explosives. That mystery boob job she went on and on about? Bombs smuggled in under the shirt. My fault for not asking for a look I guess. Don’t suppose you know where else I could set up?
Aaaanyway, that ain’t what I’m really writing in about. No, no, what I’m writing in about, is these three words: Blackfuse, elementals, trolls.
What am I talking about? I’ll discuss each topic in brief.
Step 1: Blackfuse. I can tell you’re not exactly worried about the technology of your Horde right about now, seeing as how you’re trying to master the Sha and all that. But you really should be. If what I’ve heard is true, the Alliance is gearing up to take you on. As in, lay siege to Orgrimmar, kill anyone who doesn’t run away/surrender and stick your head on a pike. And I’m not talking about your average bunch of Alliance adventurers going in and taking a shot at you hoping Varian will send them a bear in the mail (how does that work, by the way?) or anything like that. I mean, armies from all over Azeroth baring down on you with their hackles raised. Fortunately for you, I know a guy who’ll crank Orgrimmar’s Engineering skill all the way to the top. His name’s Helix Blackfuse, and he runs a little outfit called Blackfuse company. They’re a rowdy bundle of backstickers and grease-monkeys who build high-tech shredders, giant lasers, the odd drilling machine and yes, a crapload of bombs, then sell ’em to whoever’s got the gold. I’m saying this ’cause while I don’t have enough money to pay him to make me a sandwich, you probably have the gold to tie him to the Horde at the hip. Blackfuse has a weakness for shiny gold worse than the average magpie; you pay him enough, he’ll build you a giant metal scorpid with laser, bombs and buzz-saws coming out the wazoo. I figure that should be a step in the right direction.
Step 2: Elementals. Let me be blunt, Warchief: I know you’ve been getting offers of help from the Dark Shaman. You know, the ones who force the elementals to bend to their will and corrupt them into creatures of darkness. I’m only gonna say this once: don’t. Whatever neat little tricks they promised you, don’t. Don’t say yes to the jokers who think the elements are tools they get to bend in or out of shape as they like. You think life in the desert is harsh now? I’ve been chatting to the elements here, and they’re being nice. Even after you dragged out those molten giants during your attack on Theramore, they’ve decided to let your people keep on living here. But they’re running out of tolerance. It’s pretty understandable. If you laugh and spit in people’s faces too often they’ll try to get rid of you – like I was gonna do to Gallywix before the volcano on Kezan erupted. Besides, you don’t need to force the elementals to fight for you – some of them’ll do it for free.
And before you ask, I know this because since the death of Deathwing I’ve been hopping to some of the elemental planes, chating with the natives. Turns out, there’s entire armies of elementals out there without a cause to fight for. I don’t expect you to know this, but the leaders of the wind and fire elementals got KO’d a while back, like FOR REAL. Not coming back no matter how many reset buttons get pushed. Which means there’s a power vacuum in the Skywall and the Firelands – and a few of the more intelligent ones are happy to take any work they can get. Business has been good for me so far. Maybe you’d like to try it?
Now, like I said, the wind and fire elementals need no prompting, so that’s two elements ticked off right from the off. Earth is a little more tricky, ’cause their ruler is still around, and they’re not exactly big on mortals around there. Still, I’ve got a lot of pull with the Stonemother, so I imagine at least some of them would be willing to try working with someone I gave a ringing endorsement. The water boys, though? That’s kinda tricky. They’d be willing to give you a run, see how things go. But there’s a catch (of course there is) – namely, they want a small army of Horde troops to help them with reclaiming the Abyssal Maw from the naga. And not the kids fresh out of training either. Top of the line Kor’kron boots in the water is what they want. It seems there’s a few of them who are happy to serve the Alliance’s Frost mage population, and they don’t really want to switch sides without a little stellar motivation. I was half-tempted to say yes just to find out what the hell happened to that Neptulon guy, but I figured I should run it by you and see what we should do. Anyway, all I’m saying is, you’ve got an opportunity to play nice and get what you want from the elementals without screwing them and yourself over. I’d take it, if I were you.
Step 3: Trolls. And I’m not talking about the guys you know about – the peacemakers with the ambition of soggy wood. No, I’m talking about the big boys. The fellas who made an empire once, long ago. After the death of the Thunder King, they’re in a bad way in terms of leadership, and reduced to grasping at straws. Basically, they’ll take whatever help they can get, I’m sure. And let me tell you, Warchief, these guys mean business. I’ve seen them come out with some of the coolest toys a troll can get his hands on: giant dinosaur mounts, massive golems, even a few loa priests with transformation magic. Hell, you could get a lot of mileage out of them, and by bringing them into the fold, you’d be sending a message to those Darkspear morons that they’re not as needed as they think they are. Plus, you’d not only get rid of one of an ongoing list of enemies for the Horde, you’d also get powerful allies against the Alliance. Genius, huh?
Anyway, let me know how your negotiations go if you decide to give Blackfuse or the Zandas a call. And, uh, on the subject of the elementals, do I have the go-ahead? Be nice to do something more constructive than go brewing and selling the Vial of the Sands all day.
–Grottee Metalbeard, goblin shaman
We now continue with Tuesday mailbag. Because holy fucking SHIT, what the fuck just happened THERE? Where did the last eight pages and twelve hours go, for fuck’s sake?
Look, Grottee – and thank the spirits you had your name on the very last line there, because I sure as fuck wasn’t going to go looking – you might be brilliant and insightful and wise and skillful and loyal and punctual and have impeccable table manners, but DUDE, the FUCK? A mailbag letter should NOT have CHAPTER BREAKS, dude. And look, maybe you think I’m being a little hard on you, and maybe you’re thinking “oh, come on, that gigantic congealed brick of words wasn’t THAT long,” here, allow me to defer to an expert witness who knows a thing or two on the subject. Check this out:
DO YOU SEE THAT? DO YOU? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE FUCKING MAGNITUDE OF THAT SHIT?!
Okay, so, I’m just going to respond to random assorted parts of that, because in all honesty, I think I zoned out about four or five times trying to make my way through that. So here we go.
Goblin tech. Got it. Not a bad idea. I might have to look up this Blackfuse dude. Like I was just telling Glitch back before forty days and forty nights blew on by, goblin tech CAN be handy, and it’s sure as hell a better option than trying our luck on gnomish crap.
So, water elementals. Look, dude, go hang out with the elementals all you want, but don’t hold your breath waiting to get an answer on the whole Neptulon thing. Mark my words, we are never going to find out what the fuck happened to that dude. It’s just going to be one of those crazy mysteries lost to the mists of time, like where Medivh vanished off to, or what creepy shit is going on under Tirisfal Glades (other than the regular ol’ creepy shit that Sylvanas is doing any given Tuesday), or what really happened to Turalyon and Alleria or whoever the fuck. You’re just never going to find out. Either that or you’ll find out somewhere between 4-6 years from now, and at that point the answer’s probably just going to be a giant fucking disappointment anyway.
Meanwhile…the Zandalari. Um…dude, I’ve got enough headaches from the trolls we’ve got, without going out and digging up some more. I mean, fuck, if that’s what I’m going to do, how about I go help Lather-on-us recruit some more fucking hippies into DEHTA and send them an invitation to come hang out in Grommash Hold, and then I can round up some of these goblin mad scientist types and see if they can come up with a way to clone Dontrag and Utvoch, and then how about I log onto Earth Online and try pugging for a couple hours, or until my eyes bleed, whichever comes first (pro tip: smart money takes the under), and then I can put on my snazziest suit and invite Magatha over for afternoon tea. THE FUCK KIND OF OPERATION DO YOU THINK I’M RUNNING HERE?
That said, as much as I’m no fan of trolls, riding around on dinosaurs? THAT’s kind of badass. I might have to see about getting me one of those.
That does it for this time. As always, keep those letters coming.
More soon.
[Keep the letters coming indeed – because next week the Warchief will be cranking out an extra mailbag for this month! So keep your questions, thoughts, and ramblings coming for next Monday!]
Monday mailbag
Okay, people, it’s been WAY too long since I’ve dipped into the ol’ mailbag, and I have a HUGE backlog of letters, so let’s get right to it, shall we?
The Feast of Winter Veil is approaching, and it made me think. What do you hope to get from Greatfather Winter this year? Do you have any special family traditions? I look forward to seeing Orgrimmar all decorated for the festivities.
Happy Holidays!
–Lorewalker Shara
PS you may want to avoid using tinsel to decorate around Mortimer, unless you like festive poop! Might be a good idea to keep Taktani away from it too, thinking about it.
Hey, Shara, thanks for writing. Hopefully Orgrimmar is looking all Winter Veily these days. I’ll be back for a check-in soon, but I’m probably only going to make it back to town JUST in time to catch the end of the festivities. As for my wish list… I remember addressing this point a couple years ago, and most of the stuff on that list still stands – especially Varian and Magatha’s heads on pikes – but there are a few more things I can think of that I might add to the list for this year.
- An actual explanation that makes sense for what the hell was going on with Mokvar while I was away.
- A wireless network here in Pandaria that’s actually reliable, so I can log onto Earth Online without it being a fucking comedy show.
- An on-site goblin tech guy who can maintain that network without the whole thing going kablooey and spitting out two burnt pieces of toast every time there’s a breeze, because let me tell you, Grizzle Gearslip ain’t happening.
Come to think of it, so far all of these could pretty much be covered if I could get a bunch more Spazzles. Because really, as much as I clown on the guy, he actually knows what he’s doing and gets shit done, and unlike half these other jokers, I don’t have to worry about him running around behind my back doing spirits-know-what. So, other additions to the list:
- A scribe that doesn’t have traitorous tendencies, a busted-up writing hand, or the disposition of a six-year-old on a sugar high from eating all the Hallow’s End candy EVER.
- The secret to controlling the sha.
- A First War commemorative chess set. This is the normal-sized, less creepy version of the chess set Medivh had over in Karazhan. It’s been rumored to be in the works for years, and I’ve finally started to see them showing up on ebAH. Yes, I play chess. Don’t act all surprised, for fuck’s sake.
- Varian’s head on a pike. Did I mention this one?
As far as having family traditions for Winter Veil…not really. I mean, keep in mind, Winter Veil is a pretty recent thing for us Mag’har. We didn’t have Winter Veil back in Nagrand, so we only started picking it up at all after Thrall came out to Garadar a few years ago. Greatmother Geyah really has taken a liking to it, but that’s about it. Plus, not to get maudlin and shit, but it’s kind of hard to have family traditions when you don’t really have a family. I mean, I never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was young. I’m an only child. As far as I know. Assuming Grom wasn’t a bigger pimp than anybody’s given him credit for. Anyhow, point being, Greatmother is pretty much the only family I’ve got nowadays, and even SHE’s not a blood relation – she’s just the one that raised me after Lakkara died. So, yeah. AREN’T YOU HAPPY YOU BROUGHT THAT UP? BET YOU FEEL PROUD.
I am in desperate need of your assistance. I approached Regent Lord Lor’themar with my issue but he said that it was beyond his scope and directed me to contact you.
I recently inherited a house and it is in terrible need of redecoration. You have done a great deal of renovation recently and I was wondering if you could give me some tips to make my house look amazing. Attached is a picture of the house.
Thanks,
–Tegwin
Grats on the new house, Tegwin. Not so grats on the place looking like such a shithole. Because, yeah, that place needs some work. I mean, seriously…the wispy, billowy day-glow curtains? A bearskin rug with the bear head still attached? Strewn out there like you’re getting ready to do a photo shoot you already know you’re going to regret in five years? And… Is…is that a hookah? Just sitting there, right out in the open, in the living room? What are you, one semester removed from college and stuck with a slacker troll roommate who keeps swearing he’ll have his half of the rent this month, and this time he means it, mon, only you know perfectly well that’s not happening because felweed’s a hell of a drug?
So, okay, a few things. You have to lose the pastels, first of all. I know that probably goes against every last one of your blood elf sensibilities, but trust me on this. You want strong, commanding colors – the kind that will make people think “Holy fuck, some serious shit goes on in this place” when they walk in. Lots of reds and grays. Err on the side of darker. Go too dark with the red and you get a bloody crimson, which is still pretty badass. Go too light and you get pink. See where I’m going with this?
Mount some weapons on the walls. If you haven’t cleaned them lately and they’ve got some bloodstains, all the better. It adds to the color scheme I’m talking about, plus it conveys a message of “This person is not to be fucked with.” Spikes. You can never have too many spikes. Or skulls. Get some skulls in there. If you can carve up the body of one of your enemies and, say, make their skull into a chair for yourself, awesome. Or maybe turn their bones into an end table. A hat rack will do in a pinch. If you haven’t killed any notable enemies lately, but you’ve got an infamous foe that you really only know by reputation but somebody in your family killed, and you have THEIR remains somewhere handy, that’s just as good, because that fucker was brought down by your bloodline (AGAIN NOTICE THE BLOOD MOTIF) and you totally deserve to share credit for the accomplishment.
This is all for your living room, of course, and I know my tastes can be a little hardcore. I figured you might want to take it down a notch or two for your bedroom, so I went to Garona to get a woman’s opinion. Didn’t get very far, though. I told her I had a question about the bedroom and tried to ask her if she matches her rugs and curtains, or words to that effect, but she just got all pissy for some reason. So, not much help there. I seriously don’t know what’s up with her sometimes.
Speaking of which…
I’m writing this letter to you in secret and I hope it gets to you and I’m not killed in the process. *looks around*
It’s about Garona Halforcen. Sir, she scares the everliving shi—uh—crap out of me. *looks around again*
I happened upon some history stuff about her and now I’m all confused. She was there when the first invasion from the Dark Portal, then she had a kid with an old man, and she is half-orc, half-dradne dranin demon *looks up spelling* DRAENAI. (She looks like an orc. Smells like one too. I don’t see it.)
Now I’m all confused and sitting in a dark tunnel with a lot of thinking time had me thinking about her again.
What I want to know…*looks around*
How old is she? She’s got to be like….ANCIENT. *hides paper, looks around*
She doesn’t make sense and I don’t want to ask her. She’s scary.
–Ruekie, Shaman In Training
PS: There’s a lot of talk lately with the orc kids about the Red Pox, and if there is something scarier than Garona it’s that. I heard you had it once. Did it hurt? Can you get it again? Can we get it? Can an outbreak happen again? Too many questions and we are getting freaked out. Like FREAKED out. Really.
Okay, first of all… Um, Ruekie, you realize we were JUST in those caves all alone and out of earshot of Garona, right? Not sure why you didn’t just ask your questions THEN, but whatever. Kids.
First, the Red Pox? No, seriously, you don’t want to get into the Red Pox, that was just a bad scene all around. I don’t know why you kids would be talking about it now, but really, just let that shit die. Nobody needs to be digging up THOSE memories for anybody.
Okay, now that that’s settled, on to your main point. Yeah, I’ll grant you the scary thing with Garona. Scariest bitch I know who hasn’t come back from the dead. Although it’s probably a sad statement about my life that the list of people I know who HAVE come back from dead is a lot longer than you would figure. Because – I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before – NOBODY STAYS FUCKING DEAD ANYMORE.
Anyway, here’s the deal with Garona. Yeah, she’s half orc, half draenei. Back in the day, Gul’dan bred an orc and a draenei to create a personal assassin – enter Garona. Yeah, she looks mostly orcish, but I guess these racial mixes are kind of a crap shoot as far as which race’s physical traits you get.
Anyhow, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure exactly when Gul’dan actually orchestrated her birth. I know it was definitely before the Dark Portal opened, and that was about 30 years ago, but before that, there was a window of about 20 years when Gul’dan was up to some Really Bad Shit, so the breeding experiment could have happened anywhere in there. Let’s shave off the first couple years to give Gul’dan time to come up with this idea and for Garona to be brought to term. That would mean that Garona would have to be anywhere from, say, 32 (She’s not. Seriously. I’m 35. There’s no damn way she’s younger than me.) to around 48 or so. Anywhere in between, your guess is as good as mine.
Hang on, though – this gets more complicated when you add the fact that Gul’dan had Garona aged magically so that she could get right to work, no childhood needed. Swell guy, huh? Anyway, the age of adulthood among orcs varies a little from clan to clan, usually somewhere from 13 to 15. (Yeah, I know, kid, can you believe it? Technically you’re an adult. Hard to imagine you’re a grown-up, huh? Well, let me clue you in on a little secret: That thought won’t stop seeming weird for another 20 years.) So that would mean, however old Garona is according to the calendar, she really has the body of a woman 13-some-odd years older. So now we’re looking at a physical age putting her somewhere between 45 and, like, 60-something. Which is kind of a big deal when you consider that 70 is about as old as you could reasonably hope to live as an orc, even if you do a perfect job taking care of yourself.
Oh, but hang on, we’re not done yet. It’s about to get more complicated. (Don’t look at me – I didn’t make this shit up.) Because, see, since Garona has that draenei half, her aging is even more fucked up. Draenei live for…like…forever. I mean seriously, I think the average draenei lifespan is something like “infinity minus twelve.” So you mix THOSE genes in with our good, wholesome “70 if you’re super lucky” orcish genes, and…well… You’ve got a woman who’s technically, like, 40, only with the body of a 53-year-old, only not really because 53 doesn’t mean anywhere near the same thing to the draenei part of her, so…um… Who the fuck knows?
She’s old, okay? Only she’s kind of not. Only she is. Whatever – you go figure it out. Meanwhile I’m going to go check around the room and make sure there aren’t any whooshing sounds coming from the corners.
The following is written in elegant, but slightly shaky, cursive script on pale peach-colored parchment paper
My dear little Roshy,
How are you doing? I have missed you. It’s beautiful here in Nagrand – we’re having the most glorious late-fall weather. I hope all is well in Orgrimmar.
Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend? Sounds serious too… She has been sending me letters telling me about how deeply in love you both are, and has included many pictures of you with little hearts and flowers drawn on them. She says you’re getting married in the spring? Why didn’t you mention it? You would think you’d keep your own family informed, dear. We’ll have to have a little chat the next time you visit. You are coming home for Winter Veil, are you not?
Also, you should take some pictures of the two of you together. And perhaps find a new photo studio. These look like they were printed on magazine paper instead of proper photo paper. I can’t properly frame them for display, especially not with the lipstick kisses smeared all over them.
All my love,
–Greatmother Geyah.
Hold on, hold on, what… how the… it… GODDAMMIT, SOMEBODY IS FALSIFYING RECORDS OF THEIR WARCHIEF, and…and… Oh fucking hell, now I’m going to have to go out there and explain Photoshop to her. It was bad enough when I had the bright idea to try to show her the internet. Nothing in my e-mail for two months but forwarded pictures of wyverns asking for cheeseburgers. And WHO is this woman who’s…ugh. You know what? I don’t even think I want to know. Even though I can probably think of a couple likely suspects.
Now I’m just imagining somewhere in Orgrimmar there’s a dim, candle-lit room with walls covered by pictures of me, and…no, no, don’t even go any further with that, Garrosh. That way madless lies.
And now on top of everything, I have to squeeze in a trip to Nagrand before Winter Veil totally runs out on me, or I’m never going to hear the end of it. Ugh. Maybe I’ll bring Gurtash, and see if I can maybe distract her a little with the cute kid factor. Or Ruekie? I bet she’d like Ruekie. Plus Rook might want someplace to hide anyway, what with her probably having Garona out for her head as soon as this post goes live.
Very good to hear you have escaped the Saurok caves unharmed. The Horde would be in a very dire position if we were to lose our leader.
I do have one question. Have you ever thought of asking a mage if they could manage to conjure lemon squares? I have no complaints, but the same old sticky buns are a bit tiring after some time (not to mention they turn stale and hard as a rock after some time sitting in a bag). Perhaps you should collaborate with my wife? I am sure she would be very good to collaborate with, or maybe another mage closer to your location.
Regards,
–Shen-Wei Pureblossom
Thanks for writing, Shen-Wei. You know, I HAVE thought of this lemon squares angle before, but here’s the thing. First off, there was a point around this time last year that I really thought Gija down in the Cleft of Shadow was on to something, but the problem is, lemon squares don’t really lend themselves to conjuring, apparently. I mean, you can abracadabra up some pastries that are sorta, KINDA in the same ballpark as lemon squares, but you can tell they’re not the real thing. It’s like the drop-off from real leather to that fake shit that the damn DEHTA hippies try to pass off and think they’re fooling anybody. And once you’re used to eating the real thing, I mean, come on. It would be like going from having me as Warchief to, I don’t even know, a fucking TROLL or something.
Second of all, having spent my whole life eating those lemon squares, let me tell you, we don’t need mages recreating Greatmother’s recipe, because IT’S ALREADY MAGICAL. (See? See how I’m already working on smoothing things over with her? For real, I’m so fucking diplomatic you could just shit a brick.)
Also, even setting all that aside… Nothing personal, but I don’t take anybody up on any suggestions that include the phrase “perhaps you should collaborate with my wife” ever since the Incident That Shall Not Be Discussed over at Tharl Stonebleeder’s house. Now stop making me think about things that cannot be unthought. MOVING ON.
Rumors are flying that there is a red pox outbreak. Is this anything like the scourge?
–Kelytas, Blood Elf Paladin, Borean Tundra
Wait, again with the Red Pox? No! We’re not going to talk about the Red Pox. Why the fuck is everybody so curious about the Red Pox all of a sudden?
I really enjoyed that Photo-Op you had with King Varian a while ago. I couldn’t help but notice that King Varian had a wonderful tousled-Anime-pigtail thing going on that was at the same time sexy but tough, and you…well, you just look cranky.
I checked in with the Couturier Barbershop in downtown Orgrimmar and was quite frankly shocked at the dismal array of hairstyles available. An up-swept Mohawk with a scarf? Are you kidding me?
I know you might have a couple of things on your plate right now but seriously, you really need to look into this before the entire Horde start looking like extras from Naxxramas.
Maybe you could contact King Varian, find out who does his hair and we could have a Stylist Exchange with one of our Barbers so they could learn some new hair techniques and bring back the Glory of the Horde.
I also noticed that our Tailors are in desperate need of new patterns. Malevolent-style silk pantaloons? Really? That is so last-season…
–A Concerned Fashionista Blood Elf
Lor’themar, is that you?
Yeah, let me get right on that. I’ll send a special diplomatic courier right over to Stormwind with a note that says, “Who does your hair??” Yeah, that would go over great, I’m sure.
Hmm. Actually, come to think of it, a message like that would probably seem SO weird to Varian that it might fuck with his head a little. Like, I can totally imagine him reading that and thinking, “Garrosh wouldn’t give a shit about my hair…WHAT IS HE UP TO?” And then he gets all paranoid and shit. And meanwhile I’m just sitting back and not doing anything, and the longer this goes on the more paranoid he gets – ESPECIALLY when it’s time for him to go to the barber, because, hey, THIS IS WHAT GARROSH WAS ASKING ABOUT. And maybe he gets so messed up and suspicious that he stops going to the barber altogether, and his hair grows and grows, and finally he’s just got this total mess of a rat’s nest on his head, until maybe he eventually can’t stand it anymore and shaves it all off and ends up bald. Same as me.
There you have it, ACFBE. Problem solved. Garrosh comes out ahead of the curve yet again. Boom.
I’m studying Orcish History at school and need to write an essay. I thought I’d write about the Red Pox and it’s impact, and I thought it would be neat if I could quote you on the subject, if you don’t mind.
I know it was a terrible illness, but there aren’t any first-hand records that I’ve been able to find. What was it like to live with the Red Pox? Do you remember much from those years? Did you notice any major differences between Orcish society as a whole and the way Orcs lived in Garadar? Pretty much anything you can remember would be great.
Thanks!
–Anonymous Scholar, Orgrimmar
Okay, so at least NOW I have some idea of why everybody’s got the Red Pox on the brain this week. So okay, fine, just this once I’ll talk about it, seeing as I’m probably one of the only Red Pox survivors a lot of these kids will have the chance to meet.
It sucked.
What, you wanted more? FINE.
I’m not going to waste time going over the symptoms, because there must already be records of that, and I’m pretty sure neither one of us wants to spend our lunch break reviewing my childhood vomiting habits. But yeah, I had it as a kid, and even setting aside the physical suffering of it all, I can’t stress enough how much of an effect it had on the culture of Garadar. I mean, you asked if there were any major differences between Garadar society and orcish society as a whole? Fuck, what WASN’T different? The Red Pox hung over our whole culture. It touched everything. We had whole generations who were born and died – prematurely, granted – under the bane of that thing. That was the worst part of it, really – the sense of resignation it left us with. It was like, for a lot of us, there was this sense that the Red Pox came for our grandparents, and then it came for our parents, and now it’s going to come for us.
Over the years, our shaman kept working to find a cure, and every so often there would be a glimmer of hope that maybe they had something. But then there would always be some disaster that would undo it. After a while that became part of the gloom and doom of it – the shaman would come up with a new possibility, and you never quite stopped hoping, but deep down you were thinking, “Okay, let’s see what fucks it up THIS time.” Even when they finally did find a cure, and the suffering could finally end, a lot of us couldn’t even quite believe it was really happening.
Adding to all this, by the way, was the fact that over in Telaar, the draenei had their own parallel illness going on for a while. It was called the lank distemper – or the “Lanks,” as a lot of folks ended up calling it. Basically an infection that caused severe dehydration and loss of appetite, so the afflicted would wither down to these scrawny shadows of their former selves. Sometimes the two diseases would flare up as if they had a contest going to see which one could kill more victims. Which made for some miserable times for everybody involved. Believe me, for anyone who was living through it, you do NOT want to get them started on the whole Lanks / Red Pox rivalry.
Is that enough? Are you happy yet? Or do I need to relive the time the conjured healing sphere rolled between Bullrok’s legs and into the lake, too?
Winter Veil is here! Time for a great orc cheer! Lok’tar!
I am so looking forward to making cookies and milk for Greatfather Winter this year with my new cooking skills I learned from Pilgrim’s Bounty holiday. I may even add some lemon squares to add some extra favor. I’m really hoping this year he’ll give me a ferocious armored bloodwing with exotic leather saddle for riding. That would be so cool! (Sigh, I’ll probably end up with another copper racer though.)
What are you hoping for Winter Veil this year, Mr. Garrosh sir?
Varian on a spire tree?
Blood and thunder!
–Ruekie, Shaman-Still-in-Training
PS: Greatfather Winter looks awful familiar, but I can’t quite figure it out. Kinda like Mr. Saurfang, but that would be impossible…I think. (Nothing is impossible with Mr. Saurfang.)
PPS: Winter Veil holiday is a great time for eating. Try no to eat too many lemon squares, though, sir. It doesn’t take much to make your muscles look like marshmallows. D:
Bye!
Wait, Ruekie AGAIN? When the hell is she writing all these letters? Fuck, maybe I should hire HER as a scribe, if this is how fast she can crank out pages. Anyway.
So also, before we get into anything else…hang on, you want a BLOODWING for Winter Veil? A frigging BAT? All of a sudden, a WYVERN isn’t good enough for little miss tornado-pants? You’ve seen Mortimer in action, up close and personal, and you’ve decided, “Nah, let’s give the universe a sporting chance – keep the wings, take away all the parts that really make the wyvern badass, and replace them with a giant blind rat”? Are you KIDDING me?
I already answered the part about what I want for Winter Veil a few letters up, so no need to get into that again. And I’m not going to dignify the lemon squares thing with a response. But I have to comment on that thing you said about Greatfather Winter. You know, one thing that people always say about Greatfather Winter is that there’s no way the guy could possibly fly all around the world and deliver presents to everyone in just one night. Well, I think you might have found the one gaping hole in that theory. So, next time you find yourself in an argument with some skeptic who doesn’t want to believe in Greatfather Winter, just unload this one on them:
“I’m telling you, there isn’t enough time for Greatfather Winter to do all that! It isn’t physically possible!”
“What if Greatfather Winter is really Saurfang?”
“Oh… Um… Well then.”
I hear you had de red pox, mon. On dat game Earth Online dey has a disees call chicken pox. Es dat de same? (What do chickens haf to do wit dat?)
Dey say in dat game, once you hav it, you cannot get et again. Yah, mon, you are now invisible to dat disees, like de lich king’s horse. Dat is good news!
Cheers, mon!
–Bobbette, Out der somewhere
…
Okay.
So.
I am beginning to get the very distinct impression that I may be getting trolled.
What’s dis I be hearin’ about da Red Pox breakin’ out again? It be all anybody be talkin’ ’bout dese days! If you get it, does dat mean ya turns red? I remember seein’ some red orcs back in Hellfire Peninsula, mon, was dey havin’ da Red Pox? Dey go from green ta red? Don’t get me wrong, mon, I don’t want nobody gettin’ sick, but if dere be anudda outbreak, look on da bright side – all dat red an’ green togetha be lookin’ nice an’ festive for Winter Veil!
–Bob, Shado-pan Monastery
I hate you. I really, truly hate you.
Excuse me, Warchief, I write to you from Dustwallow marsh, I came here to see if I could find test subjects for a new flamethrower, and found something much more interesting, there is this mysterious woman on the road to the ruined theramore (hah!) and she seems to be able to send me back in time to look at theramore and the swamp before theramore was destroyed, I went to sleep at mudsprocket and woke up in present day. She seems upset that I was killing humans as soon as I was there, and refuses to send me again.
–Ritaba, Mudsprocket
Wait, wait, hang on. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that there’s someone hanging around Dustwallow Marsh sending people back in time to Theramore before we blew it up? As in, making it possible to totally sidestep our whole victory and interact with the place like it was before? That… fucking hell, THAT DEFEATS THE WHOLE POINT OF US BLOWING IT UP IF YOU CAN FUCKING DO THAT!
You know, this has the Bronze Dragonflight written all over it — or at least it WOULD, if it weren’t for the fact that this is PRECISELY THE SAME KIND OF SHIT they they’ve been recruiting people to PREVENT for years now, and by the way didn’t I just march through like 50 miles of steaming shit over their whole “integrity of the past” deal last year?! But hey, apparently it’s NO BIG DEAL when you’re talking about Theramore, right? SURE! WHY NOT? Hey, how about I zip on back to the past and start fucking with shit too, because I GUESS THAT’S ON THE MENU NOW, RIGHT?
Fucking dragons. FUCKING TIME TRAVEL!
UGH!
I have been reading the history of Pandaria, and discovered something no one has bothered to take note of, seven burdens of Shaohao, the story of how the last emperor of Pandaria defeated the six sha and locked them away in a poor fashion (He couldn’t have kept them from causing havok any time someone gets cranky?), and there are older writings indicating a beast with seven heads, perhaps there is a seventh sha never recorded, it could be the key to controlling them.
–Yinsun, Vale of Eternal Blossoms
Now see, THIS is an example of some research that might actually be useful. You might be on to something there, Yinsun. It DOES seem kind of fishy that we have this story about Shaohao and his seven burdens, and this seven-headed thingamabob, and then we only have six sha that we know about. It’s definitely worth considering whether we’ve got one more sha on the loose that nobody’s thought of. (Hell, I was even bouncing ideas about this around with some people on Twitter a little while ago.)
For anybody keeping score at home, we might as well start with the basics. Right now, we’ve got six sha accounted for: the Sha of Doubt, the Sha of Anger, the Sha of Despair, the Sha of Violence, the Sha of Hatred, and the Sha of Fear.
So, okay, let’s suppose there’s one more out there. Since the sha we know about all seem to be named for pretty major negative emotions or vices…hmm…let’s see, what do we have left for major negatives?
There could be a Sha of Greed, I suppose. Although…I mean, we have goblins with us, and I have to figure if there were a Sha of Greed, people like Grizzle Gearslip would be setting the fucker off left and right. The Sha of Jealousy, maybe? Makes sense on paper, but again, you’d figure we’d be having outbreaks all over the place, seeing as we’ve got a base full of people who’ve been watching me stroll around day after day. And you KNOW the peeps get jelly when they feast their eyes to the pure awesome that is yours truly, amirite?
So we’re kind of running out of major vices to pair up with the missing sha. What else is there? Free-associate, Garrosh… hmm… the Sha of Gluttony? The Sha of Sloth? The Sha of Anteater?
Hang on…I think that line of thought took a wrong turn on me somehow.
Maybe we’re going about this wrong. Time to think outside the box a little. For all we know, this last sha could be kind of a niche sha, something more specific and less…well…grandiose. Which might explain why this one might have been able to fly under the radar all this time. So, let’s see, what else could be out there as the sneakier, subtler bane of our existence…
- The Sha of Social Awkwardness
- The Sha of Small Talk
- The Sha of Poor Table Manners
- The Sha of Bad Penmanship
- The Sha of Bad Spelling
- The Sha of Typos (possibly related to above)
- The Sha of Not Picking Up After Your Wyvern
- The Sha of Repetition
- The Sha of Redundancy
- The Sha of Telegraphing Bad Jokes
- The Sha of Walking Really Slowly in Front of People at the Mall
- The Sha of Paper Towels with Inexplicably Strong Perforation So You Try to Snap Off One Square and End Up Yanking Out Half the Roll
- The Sha of Telling the Same Story Over and Over and Over Again Even Though Yes I Already Know How You Met Eitrigg Okay Tirion
Okay, you know what? This is going nowhere fast.
Wait, wait, hang on a second… I could swear I HAVE seen another sha somewhere.
HOLY FUCKING HELL THAT’S IT! THE SHA OF HAPPINESS! Come to think of it, I even remember seeing this fucker on Twitter! Fuckin’ A, I KNEW all those annoyingly happy assholes like Mylune were up to no good! IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW.
Okay, that’s going to do it for this time, but keep those letters coming. You guys really stepped up to the plate with this batch of letters, so you know what that means — THE BAR HAS BEEN RAISED. So keep it going, and I’ll try to be back with more wise words soon. Handy form included:
Spazzle Speaks: Parting Gifts
I usually don’t make a big deal of it, but one thing that honestly irks me a lot is when people assume that because I’m a goblin I must be friends with all the other goblins – like there’s no difference between the Bilgewater Cartel and any of the other goblin cartels. People just see “goblin” and figure I must have relatives in Ratchet, or know the guy they ran that errand for in Booty Bay. The fact of the matter is, the different goblin cartels are pretty separate a lot of the time, and having spent most of my life in Kezan prior to the Cataclysm, I hardly had any contact at all with the Steamwheedle goblins who came to settle in Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms.
Funny thing, though – under the circumstances right now, that stuff probably made it a lot easier for me to sneak off to Everlook than it would be for anyone else. Even with Mokvar banished, the border patrols are still on watch and asking a lot of questions of travelers, but with me? They see goblin, hear “Everlook,” and automatically think “Oh, yeah, that must be cool.”
So I had a pretty easy time getting up there to see Mokvar. Deliana was with him, but she didn’t have too much to say. Neither did Mokvar, actually – at least not as much as I would have liked. Even when I told him about the banishment, he wouldn’t give me much of anything by way of reaction. He said something about being surprised Eitrigg would go that far, but he didn’t seem upset – if anything, he almost looked a little amused about it. Eventually he filled in a few small pieces for me, but mostly wouldn’t go into much detail. He said it wasn’t because he didn’t trust me, but because he didn’t want me to know too many things that I might have to deny later. That was fine with me, honestly. I feel like I’ve already got enough secrets to keep from Garrosh as it is.
The one thing he did fill in for me was about he and Deliana escaping Orgrimmar. He started right in with that, actually – one of the first things he did when I got there was ask if Ji was okay. Which he is, by the way. As it turns out, though, Ji knew all along what was going to happen. He and Mokvar had planned a while ago that if Mokvar were captured, Ji would gather up some supplies and come see him…and then let himself get knocked out, providing some cover for the escape in the process. I tried pressing Mokvar about getting past the guards, but he just said something about “guardian angels” and asked me to trust him.
And the thing is, despite everything that’s been happening, I do. Like Garona said the other day – when you look at everything Mokvar’s done, there are only two ways to account for it: either he has something planned that he can’t tell us about, or he’s a fool. And Mokvar being a fool…that’s just too hopelessly improbable for me to accept. So I’m choosing to trust him, until it bites me in the keister. At least now I know Ji and I are in this together. Sort of.
Also, the trust definitely isn’t one-sided. The main reason Mokvar wanted to see me was to give me something: a recall totem. It’s what we shaman use for our Astral Recall spell – we’ll attune this totem to ourselves, then keep it at home, or in some other safe location. As long as a shaman is alive, our link to the elements will let us teleport ourselves back to wherever that totem is. Mokvar gave me his and asked me to keep it safe. He said that when this was over, he would need a way to bring himself home, but in safe surroundings. Among friends. He considered leaving it with Ji, but he figured an extra totem would be less conspicuous with me since I’m a shaman too.
It still feels pretty conspicuous to me, though. But that’s probably just my imagination. It’s set out on my mantle now – among a bunch of other elemental odds and ends that I’m hoping will all blend around it, even though to me the recall totem is sticking out like a sore thumb. Still, I’m sure – I hope – that nobody other than me will think anything of it. So there it is, giving off that living green glow, with that blinking green light on top. Waiting for its chance to call Mokvar back home, after the world has finished dragging him back into his past.
[Header image provided by Angelya from Revive and Rejuvenate, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Spazzle Speaks: Shamans United!
Hi everyone, Spazzle here. There’s been a lot going on, and I’ve been meaning to post for a little while now, but…well, there’s been a lot going on so I haven’t had the chance to until now.
As I’d said the last time I posted, after the news about Vol’jin reached Orgrimmar, everybody was in a state of shock for a while, and some of the Kor’kron were sent down to the Echo Isles to make sure everything was secure there. I remember Eitrigg seeming less than thrilled about that for some reason, but I didn’t think too much of it at the time.
Still, I was concerned about how everyone was doing down there. I have a couple friends from the comic shop in Razor Hill who live on the Echo Isles, and I figured that they must have been pretty shaken up by everything. So last week, after I hadn’t heard from them in a little while, I decided to take a trip down and see how they were doing.
You will never guess who I ran into on the way down.
Thrall!
Now, I can’t say I was ever very close to Thrall personally, but I definitely owe him a debt or two after he helped save the Bilgewater Cartel after we left Kezan. Not to mention, he’s the one who first started training me as a shaman way back when. (I changed the subject when he asked how that was coming along. No need for him to know that my mechanical totems short-circuit nearby appliances nearly as often as they summon up the elements.) So, as much as Garrosh is my friend and I know the two of them don’t always see eye to eye, I’m very pro-Thrall.
Or pro-Go’el. I’m not too clear on which one he’s going by these days.
Anyway, he was on his way to the Echo Isles from the Valley of Trials, along with a few Horde adventurers who had just returned from Pandaria. He didn’t go into a lot of detail, but I guess he was concerned that there was some kind of trouble for the trolls in the aftermath of Vol’jin’s death. He invited me to come with them, and since I was already concerned about my troll friends down there, naturally I took him up on his offer.
When we arrived at the Echo Isles, there were Kor’kron guards posted all around the perimeter of the island, and patrols marching around all over, without any Darkspear soldiers anywhere to be seen among the defenders. Which struck me as kind of odd, obviously. Not to mention the fact that the Kor’kron all seemed to be in a pretty foul mood.
Still, there was a Kor’kron officer along the main road, and Thrall went up to talk to him. I figured between Thrall’s diplomatic skills, and the fact that he’s…you know…Thrall, he should be able to clear things up pretty quickly.
Hmm. Okay, so much for that.
We made our way into the city from there, and it was a pretty shocking sight – the Kor’kron weren’t protecting the trolls, they were maintaining an occupation! The trolls were rounded up, disarmed, supervised by the Kor’kron, and lots of them were even chained up.
I don’t even want to think what Saurfang would say if he knew this was going on.
Thrall wasn’t happy that it had come to this, but he decided we had to free the Darkspear from the occupation. So the handful of us went around the island and, little by little, helped the trolls neutralize the Kor’kron guards. Mostly that meant “disarm and capture,” but, well… <sigh> You know.
Once we had control of most of the island, we headed to Darkspear Hold, where that warlock Gul’tar, one of Malkorok’s lieutenants, had taken charge of the city and was running things from Vol’jin’s old command center. Thrall tried to get him to stand down, but he wouldn’t budge. Gul’tar ended up ranting about the Horde changing and Vol’jin refusing to change with it, and that’s why he died – that didn’t really make sense to me, considering the reports that Vol’jin had died in a saurok attack – and attacked Thrall. Thrall and the Darkspear were able to beat him without too much trouble.
Now, the question is, what next? Thrall wasn’t sure where we go from here, but he said he would stay on the Echo Isles to help the trolls keep a handle on things until…well, I’m not really supposed to go into that. That’s one of the details Thrall said we all needed to keep quiet for the time being.
Hmm… Although…come to think of it…I suppose this whole story would be filed under “Things Thrall Wants You to Keep Quiet.” So maybe I shouldn’t have just blogged about it. Oh well. Just make sure you all keep this hush-hush.
At least there’s still that one last detail that I can be good about keeping secret.
Even as juicy and awesome as it is.
Anyway…ahem…since I won’t be talking about that, I guess I’ll wrap this up for now. I’ll try to post again if anything else big happens around here.
Okay screw it OMG YOU GUYS VOL’JIN IS TOTALLY STILL ALIVE HOLY GEEZ CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!?!?!
[Header image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click here to see the souped-up Postcard version! All other images provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant. All images used here with permission and many thanks.]
The Wizard of Zhan
The curtain rises on the admiral’s quarters in Northwatch Hold, where Garrosh is sitting in a chair, slumped over a central table. Everything appears black-and-white.
After a moment, Garrosh stirs and looks around the room while rubbing his forehead. Stage lights illuminate the far edges of the stage, alternating sides, showing brief glimpses of Orgrimmar in flames, being overrun by demons. The sounds of screaming and demonic laughter can be heard, seemingly at a distance. The lights at the edges of the stage go out. Garrosh stands, and the background noise stops.
GARROSH: Malchezaar… They were able to do it because of Malchezaar…
{UP IN THE NETHER}
GARROSH:
Somewhere up in the nether
In the dark,
There’s a demon “prince,” self-appointed,
Calls himself Malchezaar.Mortimer wanders in and settles near Garrosh as the song continues.
Somewhere up in the nether
Time did break.
You can kill him while he’s up there
But it just won’t take.Some day I’ve got to drag him down
Out of that place and go to town
And stop it.
The Legion hid him in the cracks.
Sometimes he’s got my father’s axe;
I hope he drops it.Somewhere up in the nether
Demons hide.
Prince lurks up in the nether –
It’s long since time he died.If demons get to be revived
Without a timer,
Why oh why can’t I?Garrosh walks to a window and looks out. A stage light illuminates the edge of the stage again, this time revealing the burning ruins of Camp Taurajo.
Garrosh steps back into the room and, slowly at first but with increasing speed and urgency, begins running around the room, knocking over and smashing furniture. Dizzying music fades in as Garrosh continues; he runs around in circles, destroying everything he can reach. The stage lights dim until the room itself fades from view and the only thing visible is Garrosh – running in circles, lashing at his invisible surroundings, moving with increasing speed until he starts to blur into a whirlwind of anger.
The lights slowly come up to show that the Northwatch Hold tower has been replaced by the deck of a goblin sky galleon. The ship is spinning in air, such that the rotation of the ship gradually comes to replace Garrosh’s running; he now stands on the deck as the galleon spins around, tossed in circles by a literal whirlwind.
The lights fade to black while the dizzying music continues – growing louder – then a loud crash is heard. The stage lights come up again, showing the sky galleon wrecked on the ground amid the ruins of Theramore. For the first time, the scene is visible in full color. Garrosh is sprawled out on the ground near the wreckage, unconscious. Mortimer flies in and approaches. He prods Garrosh carefully with one paw; Garrosh stirs and starts to get up.
GARROSH: <rubbing his head with one hand while patting Mortimer with the other> Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, buddy…
Garrosh turns to the wreckage of the galleon and notices a woman’s legs sticking out from under it.
Huh. She’s not okay, though, whoever she is. Was.
Garrosh looks around the ruins, then back to the galleon. As he turns away, several goblins begin to emerge slowly from behind pieces of the ruins.
Hmm… Mortimer, I don’t think we’re in Northgate anymore… Looks like Theramore…so…so that would make HER—
SPAZZLE: <running to the wreckage> The Witch! She’s dead! The Wicked Witch is dead!
More goblins appear and gather closer around the wreckage.
GARROSH: Hang on, the witch? You mean like a mage?
SPAZZLE: Well, it’s kind of a blanket term.
GARROSH: But is THIS one a mage?
KHIZZARA: Not anymore!
GARROSH: Yeah, fine, I get it, she’s dead. What I’m trying to find out is if she’s—
GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE: She’s dead!
DYSLIX SILVERGRUB: Dead!
KRIXIL SLOGSWITCH: The Witch is dead!
KHIZZARA: Woot!
GARROSH: Fine, fuck it, I’ll check it out myself.
Garrosh takes hold of the edge of the wreckage and, grunting, lifts it a few feet.
UGH! GROSS!
Garrosh releases the galleon and it crashes back onto the body. One hand is left flopping limply out from under the wreckage; a glowing blue orb falls out of its palm and rolls across the ground.
Definitely Jaina, though. Gotta say, not exactly a glorious way to go out. <chuckles> Oh well. Live on your back, die on your back, right?
The blue sphere rolls further. In a puff of smoke, Liadrin appears in the sphere’s path. She is wearing the paladin Lightsworn robes and has the wings of Avenging Wrath permanently glowing on her back. She leans down and picks up the orb.
LIADRIN: Are you the one who’s slain the Wicked Witch of the East and freed the Mudsprockets?
GARROSH: What, Jaina? Yeah, that was me, I guess.
GOBLINS: Hooray!
GARROSH: So hang on, who are all you people?
LIADRIN: I am the Good Witch of the North. And the Mudsprockets live here in the marsh.
RAZBO RUSTGEAR: Under the tyrannical reign of the Wicked Witch of the East!
KHIZZARA: Not anymore!
GOBLINS: Hooray!
GARROSH: Jaina had a tyrannical reign?
SPAZZLE: Well, more like some pretty strict local ordinances on fireworks and explosives.
KHIZZARA: Not anymore!
GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE: Splodey-ville, here we come!
GOBLINS: Hooray!
GARROSH: Okay, whatever. You’re happy she’s dead, I’m happy she’s dead, it’s all cool. One less thorn in my side, gotta tell you.
{WHAM, BAM, THE BITCH IS DEAD}
GARROSH:
Wham! Bam! The bitch is dead!
GOBLINS:
Which? Which bitch?
GARROSH:
The Proudmoore bitch!
Wham! Bam! The Proudmoore bitch is dead!
I landed on her head,
She wished she woulda stood in bed.
Flat splat, the Proudmoore bitch is dead!GOBLINS:
She won’t stop the goblins now –
Kapow! Kapow! Kapow!
So now, let’s open up and blast,
At last! Let’s rock some rockets!
Wham bam, she got put down,
A new sheriff is in town!
Don’t you frown, the Wicked Witch is dead!Drazzit Dripvalve approaches wearing a top hat and comically flamboyant ceremonial attire.
DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:
As Mayor of dear Mudsprocket,
In the shadow of the Witch’s lair,
I welcome you effusively!GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE:
But it must be proved conclusively,
To know…DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:
To know?
GIZZIX GRIMGURGLE:
That blow…
DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:
That blow?
GIZZIX GRIMGURGLE:
Has utterly, totally,
KRIXIL SLOGSWITCH:
Not just anecdotally!
RAZBO RUSTGEAR:
Determinately, permanently,
GOBLINS:
Undiminishedly gone and finished her off.
SPAZZLE:
I went ahead and checked her out,
And I can say without a doubt
That she’s not just flatter than most:
She’s totally and truly toast.DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:
Then today we’ll fire our rockets!
Celebrating free Mudsprockets!
Now spread the word! Let none neglect!
The Wicked Witch just got shipwrecked!GOBLINS:
Wham! Bam! The Witch is dead!
Which? Which Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Wham! Bam! The Wicked Witch is dead!
He landed on her head,
She wished she woulda stood in bed.GARROSH:
Flat splat, the Proudmoore bitch is dead!
GOBLINS:
She won’t stop the goblins now –
Kapow! Kapow! Kapow!
So now, let’s open up and blast,
At last! Let’s rock some rockets!
Wham bam, she got put down,
A new sheriff is in town!
Don’t you frown, the Wicked Witch is dead!From above, Magatha Grimtotem swoops in, riding her wind serpent Arikara. Cackling maniacally, she casts chain lightning down at the Mudsprockets, who scatter and try to take cover.
GARROSH: What the fuck is SHE doing here?
LIADRIN: It’s the Wicked Witch of the West!
GARROSH: How many fucking Wicked Witches do you people HAVE around here?
LIADRIN: Two—
KHIZZARA: Not anymore!
LIADRIN: Well, yes, one now. But this one is even worse than the Wicked Witch of the East ever was.
GARROSH: Preaching to the choir, lady.
Magatha unleashes another burst of chain lightning; Garrosh and Liadrin dive out of the way. Mortimer launches into the air, snarling, and swipes at Arikara.
GARROSH: Yeah! Go get ’em, Mortimer!
Mortimer’s strike knocks Magatha off of Arikara and sends her crashing to the ground. Shrieking, Arikara flies out of view. Magatha gets up and looks at Jaina’s legs poking out from under the wreckage. Mortimer returns to the ground, landing next to Garrosh.
MAGATHA: So it’s true! She’s dead! <looking around hurriedly> Where is it, then? It must be here!
LIADRIN: <holding up the blue sphere> Are you looking for this?
MAGATHA: The Focusing Iris! Yes! Once I combine its power with that of the Doomstone—
LIADRIN: You’ll do nothing of the kind, crone!
MAGATHA: You think I fear you, elf? I’ll take it from you if I have to!
Magatha starts to cast another chain lightning, but is interrupted when Garona – sporting the Fangs of the Father wings – unstealths and stunlocks her.
GARONA: Not so much, Steak Sauce!
GARROSH: So, who’s this supposed to be now?
LIADRIN: She’s the Morally Ambiguous Witch of the South-by-Southeast.
GARONA: Hey.
GARROSH: You people have some really weird fucking job titles, gotta say.
LIADRIN: You slayed the Wicked Witch of the East, so it’s only right that the Focusing Iris should go to you as its caretaker…
Liadrin hands the Iris to Garrosh.
What’s important is that it stays out of the hands of the crone at all cost.
GARROSH: Yeah, don’t worry, I am all about making her life unpleasant…
Arikara swoops by again, startling Garrosh and Liadrin into taking a few steps back; Magatha breaks out of her stun, jumps back, and puts down an earthbind totem that holds the others in place.
MAGATHA: I may need to bide my time for now, but the Iris will be mine yet! And as for you, orc – I’ll get you, my cranky, and your little wyvern, too!
Magatha leaps onto Arikara’s back and takes off.
LIADRIN: She’ll be back. I hope you can handle powerful enemies.
GARROSH: I’ve dealt with worse. Matter of fact, I was working on one just before I wound up here.
LIADRIN: What enemy was that?
GARROSH: A demon called Malchezaar – taking him out wouldn’t even be that big of a deal, but I kind of have to get him out of his lair in order to defeat him.
LIADRIN: Something you would need powerful magic to do?
GARROSH: Probably. Magic not really being my strong suit.
LIADRIN: I may know whose it is. You want to talk to the Wizard of Zhan.
GARROSH: The who now?
LIADRIN: The Wizard of Zhan! He’s a wise, mysterious mage who lives in the Dark Tower far away.
GARROSH: So this guy is pretty powerful?
LIADRIN: Extremely – they say there’s no end to what he can do.
GARONA: Let’s not get carried away now.
GARROSH: You know him?
GARONA: We’ve met.
GARROSH: So how do I get to him?
LIADRIN: The tower of Zhan is far to the east of Dustwallow, in the Pass of Dying Winds. Luckily for you, the eastward Gold Road will take you straight there.
Liadrin points to the yellow brick road beneath their feet.
GARROSH: Well that’s convenient.
GARONA: I can go with you, since I know the Wizard.
LIADRIN: You should get started – it’s a long trip, especially since you’ll be walking.
GARROSH: Screw walking, I’ve got my wyvern right here. I can just hop on and fly along the road.
GARONA: Great! I can get on behind you and hold onto you.
GARROSH: Okay, so walking it is. Grats on the dodged bullet, Mortimer.
GARONA: Fine.
LIADRIN: We’ll see you off! Good luck on your journey!
GARROSH: Hey, actually…you said this road leads right to Zhan?
LIADRIN: Yes, it does.
GARROSH: Even though there’s an ocean between here and there? Because we’re kind of on a different continent.
LIADRIN: Yes, but fortunately the road runs across the Willing Suspension Bridge of Disbelief.
GARROSH: Huh. Okay then. Off we go.
Garrosh, Garona, and Mortimer start to follow the road while the Mudsprockets gather behind them.
{OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD}
GOBLINS:
You’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan.
We hear he’s sage: the mightiest mage
Who ever met mortal man.
If you seek some sorcery for your plan,
The Wizard’s your man, because he can –
He can, he can, he can, he can, he can.
He’ll have it all done before it began!
You’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan!The curtains close.
{TO BE CONTINUED IN ACT 2…}
The fall of Theramore
Victory from the jaws of defeat.
Or, no, that’s not quite accurate. Defeat was never really in the picture. This was more victory from under the guide of defeat.
That much sweeter, in a way. Let the humans think they’d won, right up to the moment that their doom became inescapable. The moment they realized it was upon them, and had nothing left to do but stand there helplessly and watch it come.
Today was a good day.
After we left Northwatch Hold, we marched south and made short work of Fort Triumph. I couldn’t help chuckling at the irony of the name while we annihilated what passed for its defenses. I think our soldiers were so eager for battle after the long wait at Northwatch that they threw themselves with ever great ferocity into the fight once it finally came.
The long wait at Northwatch. To them – what? – six days?
They’ll never know how long their Warchief had been waiting for this moment.
We continued on our way into Dustwallow Marsh and divided our forces at the fork in the road. Half of our troops traveled north with me, while half went east with Malkorok. We would meet at Theramore and strike both its gates at the same time. As my half of the army made its way north, we added reinforcements from Brackenwall Village – Krog and Draz’Zilb among them – then continued on our way toward Theramore.
My contingent was the first to reach the city. Jaina had recruited aid from the Kirin Tor to help strengthen the city’s defenses against our battering rams and siege engines. It was a wise decision on her part. Pity I’d been counting on it. Me and…what’s his name, the blood elf guy. I can never remember. I should probably work on that, seeing as he really stepped up to the plate with more than one part of this plan.
See, Jaina had called in mages from the Kirin Tor to help hold the Theramore gates against our attack. A powerful mage could reinforce a gate for a good long time against our siege. As it happened, though, one of those crucial, city-saving mages was a guy by the name of Thalen Songweaver.
A blood elf.
See if you can guess who writes his checks.
Down came the gates, and in came the Horde.
Malkorok’s forces joined ours in the midst of it all, and Captain Drok and the rest of the Horde fleet hit the harbor. Our troops flooded into Theramore, laying waste to its defenders. Jaina and her wizard friends did a decent job of chipping away at our numbers from above, but on the ground, none of the Theramore soldiers could hold their own against our assault.
Everything was going perfectly until Jaina’s new blue dragon friend turned up and started dropping boulders and trees over the broken gate. Kalecgos… I remember meeting him, once, just after Deathwing’s defeat. Apparently mortality’s left him pretty damn bored these days, because now he had nothing better to do than meddle in battles that were none of his concern. Problem was – as Baine and Vol’jin were only too quick to point out – at the rate the big lizard was going, he would shore up the opening right quick, and seal us all inside. At that point, closed in without any further reinforcements from outside, it would just be a matter of time before the mages picked us off.
So, I ordered our forces to fall back. We cleared out of the city and retreated to the north and west. We all regrouped just west of the bridge over Dustwallow Bay, overlooking Theramore. Baine was less than thrilled about how things had gone. Can’t really blame him, though, considering he wasn’t seeing the big picture. The foolish tauren thought the siege was all there was to this attack. For all he could see, this was a loss.
But see, here’s the thing. When you fight me, there’s never just one piece to the plan I throw at you. Sure, it would have been nice if the siege had gone perfectly. But that’s the beauty of it all. It didn’t have to.
Welcome to fighting Garrosh Hellscream, Theramore. Evern when I lose, I win.
Sure, you fought off the attack on your gates… And kept yourselves busy while Drok slipped into the harbor and dropped off a small, elite strike team, who crippled your aerial defenses and recovered our agent Thalen Songweaver.
And sure, you managed to secure that north gate again… And sealed yourselves in, within the city walls. With some of the Alliance’s greatest generals, who’d come to aid in the defense. Closed in together. Nice and compact. All in one place.
Boy, it sure would suck for you if I had, say, a giant bomb I could drop on you right now.
Oh, wait. I do.
Goblin sky galleon. Blood elf mana bomb. And the immeasurable power of a handy little relic called the Focusing Iris.
Goodbye, Theramore.
The troops cheered around me as I pointed to our victory and the sky glowed white and purple with the aftershocks of the mana explosion. Louder and louder, raucous voices all around me. Some stared in shock, confusion, maybe even…misguided disapproval. No matter. Give them time. They’ll come around. Eventually, victory wins everyone over. And we won.
I turned and looked over the bay, holding Gorehowl over my head, taking in the sight of our triumph, of the mark we had left on this world, never to be forgotten.
Deep down, in some tiny, hollow corner, I knew it still wasn’t quite enough.
But it would do. For a start.
The siege of Orgrimmar
This may wind up being all over the place – so much happening that I’m not even sure where to start. I’m going to try to cover as much as I can remember, in as much detail as I can, and I’m having Mokvar edit in what he can, both from his notes at the time and also – probably mostly – his best estimates after the fact. I’m not even sure I should be taking the time to write this all out, but if things go badly from here, I feel like there should be a record somewhere of how it happened.
If you don’t hear any more from me, then this is the story of how the Horde fell.
I guess I should start at the beginning.
Our fears based on the scouting reports were justified. The Scourge force in Winterspring, which by all accounts had grown to massive numbers, swept south into Azshara and across the zone unopposed. We had early warnings from patrols that they were on their way, but there wasn’t anyone to slow them down, and as news came in I found myself wondering why the goblins weren’t putting up any resistance. It took me a few minutes to put two and two together and realize that there WERE no goblins in Azshara, because the Bilgewater Cartel in this world had apparently never joined the Horde.
It’s strange how things work in this world. Every time I flash into this timeline from ours, I find myself dropped into the middle of whatever was going on here. I still remember where I was and what I was doing in the original timeline, but within a few seconds, I also remember, more or less, what was happening here – at least enough to get my bearings. And I’ll have these other, scattered memories – or fragments of them. Images, places, little snippets of things that I’ve done and seen here. Just enough to get by. And yet, I wind up drawing a blank on the big picture. I know what’s happening as it’s happening, but I don’t know how it got to be that way.
So I still have these gaps, like with the goblins, or for that matter the Scourge, or the demons – big chunks of altered history that I just have no idea about, and it’s not like there’s been a point when I could ask someone without setting off all kinds of warning lights. “Oh hey, you know these major historical events we’re in the middle of, and that I’ve personally lived through? They’ve kind of slipped my mind. Give me a quick recap?” Best case scenario, they decide Garrosh has finally gone off his rocker.
So funny thing, standing on the rampart over the Orgrimmar rear gate, watching those masses of undead coming over the hills, I couldn’t help getting lost in my head for a minute. Wondering where Spazzle is now.
Zaela directed the main defenses as the Scourge arrived and threw themselves against the gate. The rampart was packed to capacity with catapults and lined with archers. Nazgrim led an entire legion of infantry down to take them on directly, striking quickly then backing off under cover fire from the rampart. Even at the battle of the line at Elrendar, I’d never seen so many Scourge. We killed thousand upon thousand of them, and yet the fields of Azshara teemed with them endlessly.
Dozens of gargoyles and val’kyr flew past our outer defenses and swooped through the streets of the Valley of Honor. The Kor’kron air guard dove in to engage, but even they could only keep up with so many of them at a time. I rushed back inside to help fight off some of the ones close to the ground. As I was hacking up a val’kyr, I heard someone screeching for help behind me – turns out it was that strange monkey-man Zhi-Zhi that Nazgrim had found stranded at sea, being tugged back and forth between a pair of gargoyles. I charged in and cleaved them down.
ZHI-ZHI: Ah! Ah! Many thanksings, yes, much appreciations for saving Zhi-Zhi!
GARROSH: What the hell are you even doing back here?
ZHI-ZHI: Zhi-Zhi, uhh, Zhi-Zhi come for fishings of crawdads! Nice pond for fishings! Good for snacks!
GARROSH: Fishing? Dude, did you not notice there’s a major battle going on here?
ZHI-ZHI: Yes! Yes! Less competitions for Zhi-Zhi!
At that point Dranosh came running in to direct another infantry battalion to the gate and redeploy the units covering the interior stop points. As he approached us, the ground shook as a deep, rumbling noise echoed around us.
DRANOSH: <looking up to the gate> What the hell was that?
GARROSH: I don’t know – did they bring battering rams? Or maybe they’ve got flesh giants at the gate now?
ZHI-ZHI: Oh no…
Zaela runs in from the gate as another rumble shakes the ground.
ZAELA: What’s going on in here?
GARROSH: That’s not coming from the gate?
ZAELA: No, I came to try to see what was causing it.
DRANOSH: Status report back there?
ZAELA: Getting hit hard, Warchief, but we’re holding.
DRANOSH: As long as the gate holds, we can pick them off for as long as they want to keep coming.
Another rumble, lounder, crashes through the air as the ground shakes forcefully. Garrosh stumbles in place briefly before regaining his footing.
GARROSH: What the hell IS that?
ZHI-ZHI: <closing eyes and shaking head> Cracks, cracks, everywhere cracking…closed circle coming…
MOKVAR: I think that came from the Drag – or maybe the Cleft of Shadow?
GARROSH: The Cleft of…there couldn’t be anything going on in Ragefire…?
DRANOSH: Right now I’m not interested in guessing – check it out, Garrosh. Find out what’s going on back there.
GARROSH: On it.
ZAELA: I’m coming too, Overlord.
ZHI-ZHI: <hands on head> From within, it consumes…
Zaela, Mokvar, and I ran back to the Drag as quickly as we could. The ground shook beneath us while we ran past one building after another, looking around frantically for any telltale signs. Finally we ran into the Cleft of Shadow. And my rage bar hit overload.
They were standing in a circle – about a dozen warlocks, each standing in a glowing, purple rune, with Neeru Fireblade among them, chanting some sort of incantation. They were all channeling some kind of spell with red-purple ribbons of magic energy flowing from their hands to the middle of their circle, where a swirling disk glowed and shuddered on the ground. The closer we got, the more we could feel the low trembling of the ground under our feet. The warlocks repeated every few words that Neeru said as he continued his chant, and they grew louder each time as if they could feel success looming closer.
The swirling disk pulsed more brightly as we closed on the circle of warlocks. Zaela and I didn’t waste any time worrying about the details of what they were doing – we charged in and started cutting them down. Mokvar threw a hex on Neeru Fireblade to put a stop to his chanting, then helped us take out the rest. But with every warlock we killed, the glowing disk only glowed brighter, and as I cut down the final one, with his last breath he just laughed.
WARLOCK: Too late, you fool! He comes! He comes!
The disk glows brighter as the ground shakes with greater force.
GARROSH: What the hell WAS that spell they were casting? Why doesn’t it stop?
MOKVAR: Because the real spell wasn’t coming from this side…
ZAELA: This side? Of what?
MOKVAR: The spell they were casting was a locating beacon…
The ground rumbles loudly. The disk expands and starts to glow bright green. Zaela pulls Garrosh back to keep the edge of the disk from grazing him.
…to set a target position for this. For a portal.
The disk gives off one more bright flash, accompanied by a buckling of the ground underfoot, then settles into a duller, steady pulsing. From the center of the disk, a giant blue man’ari eredar rises up, holding open in one hand a book covered in shimmering arcane runes. About a dozen terrorguards and abyssals rise up from the portal behind him.
GARROSH: Oh…fucking hell…
MOKVAR: Wait, is that…?
GARROSH: I’m thinking so.
ZAELA: Who? Who is he?
The eredar snaps the book closed and waves a hand behind him. Several domguards and shivarra begin to emerge.
GARROSH: Malchezaar.
ZAELA: Wait, Prince Malchezaar?
MOKVAR: Yup.
ZAELA: Karazhan Prince Malchezaar?
MOKVAR: Karazhan-in-the-Deadwind-Pass-where-the-demons-were-gathering Prince Malchezaar, yeah. That’s the guy.
ZAELA: Wasn’t he killed?
GARROSH: Over and over. Funny thing about that…
The first of the demons rushed at us, and Zaela, Mokvar, and I went to work. Malchezaar did that creepy laugh of his – the one that only a few people should ever have heard but way too many have – as dozens more demons came pouring out of the portal. Mokvar kept an Earthquake rolling under the demons while Zaela and I stood side by side and slashed them down as they ran at us.
GARROSH: We’ve got to stop them here before they get into the city!
ZAELA: I think you’re underestimating how many of them may be coming, Overlord…
MALCHEZAAR: <chuckling> Yes, yes, Overlord, you do not face Malchezaar alone—
GARROSH: Yeah, yeah, I know, Squid-Face, everybody’s heard it, the legions at your command, shut up!
MALCHEZAAR: Oh, no, orc, not the legions at my command – the Legion at His command!
Another deep, low rumble shudders through the ground, accompanied by an even deeper laugh echoing from the other side of the portal. Slowly, an enormous, clawed red hand rises out of the portal. Several of the demons turn to look, then cackle hideously.
GARROSH: That…couldn’t…
MOKVAR: Oh…oh shit…
Zaela turns to Garrosh and grabs him by his shoulders.
ZAELA: Overlord…go!
Zaela spins away from Garrosh and charges at a nearby doomguard. She leaps up, grabs the doomguard by one horn, and uses her grip to flip over its body while wrenching its neck around and snapping it. Still holding the horn, she flings its entire body into a cluster of succubi, then throws herself into a pack of a dozen felguards while launching into a bladestorm that sends severed limbs flying left and right.
ZAELA: <glares back at Garrosh as several demons converge on her> Garrosh – GO! Warn the Warchief! Kagh!
The giant hand reaches to one side of the portal, dragging a heavy red arm behind it, and presses against the ground as another laugh bellows from beneath.
MALCHEZAAR: Oh yes, do – warn the Warchief, Warchief.
MOKVAR: <looking to Garrosh> Did he—?
GARROSH: Later.
Garrosh pulls at Mokvar’s arm and runs toward the exit of the Cleft of Shadow; Mokvar scoops up the still-hexed Neeru Fireblade and follows. As they rush to the exit, Zaela tears through demons at the portal’s edge, while more emerge by the dozen. Garrosh turns a moment to look back at her before following Mokvar out to the Drag.
GARROSH: Aka’Magosh, Warlord.
Garrosh and Mokvar emerge into the Drag with about twenty demons in pursuit. Horde soldiers on the street turn in surprise at the sight, then run to intercept the demons. Mokvar turns back to face the entrance to the Cleft and holds his hands toward the stone that forms the cavern.
MOKVAR: Spirits of Earth, I know I’m still kind of new at this, so please, please don’t pick today to be finicky with me…
GARROSH: <looking around and grumbling> “Warchief,” he says. This world has seriously got to stop finding new ways to be fucked up…
The stone shakes and begins to crack; the cavern entrance collapses on itself just as another pack of demons near it from the other side. The ground shakes violently as an angry growl rumbles from behind the heap of rock.
GARROSH: That buys us some time, but it won’t hold them forever. We have to get to…ah, here we go…
From the gate to the Valley of Honor, Dranosh and Vol’jin rush in with a squad of Kor’kron. Orcs, trolls, and tauren pour into the drag from either side, running around in confusion as they engage the demons.
VOL’JIN: How da demons get here?!
GARROSH: It was the warlocks – they were helping the Legion open some kind of portal, and—
The ground shakes again, forcefully, and a deep laugh echoes from below.
—and I think the big guy is with them…
The Horde troops finish the last of the demons, but look around anxiously at the sound of the demonic laughter. The boulders blocking the Cleft of Shadow passage begin to buckle and shake.
Dranosh leaps onto a broken siege engine, gestures to the crowd with both arms, and calls out loudly.
DRANOSH: Hear me, sons and daughters of the Horde! We have been betrayed from within our very home, and the Burning Legion comes into our midst! I look among you, and know that this is not a battle you dreamt you would fight today – but the battle is upon us nevertheless, and we will meet it! I look among you now, and see the fear in your eyes – fear for your home, for your family – but I tell you, do NOT fear them! Remember instead – it was your home, your family, that these very demons defiled! These same demons who destroyed our beautiful world, who left your fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers lost or forever scarred! These same demons who today have come – and delivered themselves to the justice they have too long eluded! The Burning Legion comes today, my friends – and I do not fear them! I PITY THEM! Rise up now! Rise up for the moment we prayed would come! For Draenor! For Azeroth! FOR THE HORDE!
I’ve heard troops shouting “For the Horde!” more times than I can count. I’ve never heard it as deafening as it was right there – just as the boulders blocking the cavern finally cracked and the demons came rushing out.
The flood of demons was met by a raging wave of green and brown and blue as our soldiers threw themselves against the monsters, crashing into them and pushing them back. Vol’jin called out to a squad of Darkspear shadow hunters, who lined up on the ledge across from the Cleft and rained arrows down onto the oncoming demons, then he ran over to Dranosh.
I started to run past Dranosh to rejoin the fray. He grabbed me as I passed and pulled me to face him. His look was grim and urgent, and his eyes were more terrified than I’d ever seen them. I think a little piece of me died at the sight.
DRANOSH: We need to get the civilians out of here, and we need to get them out NOW.
Captain Drok runs into the Drag, leading a squad of troops. Dranosh grabs him by his arm as he passes.
DRANOSH: Drok, I’ll take care of your men – I need you to get up to the Skyway. I want every zeppelin and gunship we have ready to take off and I want them ready ten minutes ago, do you understand?
DROK: Yes, Warchief!
Dranosh runs after Drok’s troops, cleaving down a pair of felguards as he goes. After cutting down a terrorfiend, he looks back over his shoulder at Garrosh, Vol’jin, and Drok.
DRANOSH: You heard me! All of you – GO!
Dranosh rushed back into the battle, and Drok ran off to the Skyway elevator. Vol’jin and I split up, him racing to the Valley of Spirits, me to the Valley of Strength. I ran from building to building – through crowds of panicking citizens – ordering them to the Skyway and trying to herd them into some vague semblance of order. Droves of orcs and trolls, blood elves, tauren, even some scattered worgen and gnomes. Humans. I never thought I’d see the day I’d be racing around helping save humans. Desperate times.
I KNEW Orgrimmar needed some kind of emergency alert system.
I followed the crowds up to the Skyway elevator near the entrance to the Drag and tried to keep them moving in as much order as a frightened mob could maintain. All you could hear was the sound of people shouting and screaming and the rising growl of the demons. Every so often, the ground shook again beneath us.
After one tremor, I felt someone jostle me, and I turned to see a human had bumped into me in his rush to the elevator.
A familiar human.
FARANELL: Wha— Garrosh?
GARROSH: Hey, Doc, I— DOC! What are you—oh shit, Soridormi said you might—
MOKVAR: Doesn’t that mean the timelines are merging?
FARANELL: <looking around panicked> What—what’s going on? What happened to Orgrimmar? I was…I was walking back to my quarters, and there was a flash, and…
GARROSH: Yeah, weird dizzy feeling for just a second?
MOKVAR: It’s the other timeline, Edwin.
GARROSH: Welcome to the end of the world, Doc. You picked a great time to drop in…
MOKVAR: Actually…Garrosh…
A loud crashing sound comes from the back of the city, followed by a rise in the overlapping screams and shouts. The ground shakes again violently.
FARANELL: I don’t understand – all this is happening because of what I did? I mean, the other me? How—?
GARROSH: Long story, Doc, and I don’t even know all of it. <steadies himself after another tremor> But wait a minute – if you’re here—
MOKVAR: Exactly! If he’s here, and we can get him to Soridormi—
GARROSH: —then maybe THIS “you” can actually fix actually fix fix ytilatrom actually fo fix you raef fix namuh eht fix can esab eurt you rieht ta evah have tcartsba ro a detacitsihpos destiny revewoh emit some of fo some snoitagitsevni some lla some some of some of what’s gone wrong and—
Garrosh looks around the Northwatch Hold admiral’s quarters, horrified.
No – no, no, NO, NO, NO!!
Garrosh lashes out, smashing the table in front of him and pummeling a goblin messenger across the room and into the wall.
MALKOROK: Hah! Indeed, Warchief, nor should you stand for such incompetence! Perhaps you should put an end to his sniveling existence – the Horde can surely afford the loss of one pitiful weakling. Haha!
{TO BE CONTINUED…}
Readying for war
Preparations are going well for our moves against the Alliance. I’ve issued orders to the various leaders for troop assignments and gotten confirmation back. Begrudging confirmations in most cases, but confirmations nonetheless. Strangely enough, the only one who seems even remotely jazzed about us going on the offensive is Gallywix, although I suppose it might just be that EVERYTHING seems more exciting when you’ve been hiding in a cave or at the bottom of the ocean or wherever the fuck he’s been all this time.
Granted, I’m pretty sure he’s only enthused because his cartel is getting paid and because he figures taking over Kalimdor will mean a stranglehold on trade. And I’ll be the first one to admit that I was lukewarm at best about the goblins joining the Horde in the first place. Part of that was Thrall sending that representative from the Lost Isles with a letter telling me to admit them into the Horde – like, dude, knock it off with the backseat Warchiefing, okay? I mean I know I was still new at the job and it was a whole “acting Warchief” deal, but come on. Plus it really didn’t help matters that after he told me to admit the goblins, he decided to be cute and finish the letter with “And yes, I would like fries with that.”
Anyway, though, Gallywix and his people are turning out to be useful as far as getting siege engines built, along with another heavy combat transport or two that may come in handy for a possible part of the Theramore plan. So at least they’re good for something.
If nothing else, it’s good to finally get this plan back off the backburner again. I know it’s been a while since I’ve mentioned moving on Theramore, and some of you were probably starting to wonder if I’d just dropped it. Never was the case. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t rushing into a bad game plan out of anger and setting us all up for the whole thing to blow up in our faces. That and realizing there were a few parts of the original plan that probably weren’t that great an idea. And then we had that whole anti-plague business start up in Southshore, and off we went to the Caverns of Time…and yeah. Anyway, now we’re all back – well, at least until the next time the timeline decides to go all KAPOW on us again, but there’s no sense sitting around picking our noses waiting on that to happen. And everything’s ready to go.
When he had the big council meeting in Grommash Hold the other day, Baine and Vol’jin in particular were fairly grumpy about what I had planned. With Vol’jin I can kind of understand, seeing as he pretty much just likes to be a pain in the ass. But I’m not too crazy about this whole vibe I’ve been getting from lots of people since I’ve been Warchief, this whole “Hold on, hold on, I know we’re at war with the Alliance and everything, but OMG we can’t actually ATTACK them like WTF!” deal some people seem to have going on. Uh, yeah, fuckers, that’s what you fucking DO.
So when I issued marching orders for the first step of our attack plan, I tried to build in a little reminder of what’s actually going on for Baine and Vol’jin. Baine is going to gather his forces at the Great Gate in Mulgore. Vol’jin, likewise, is rounding up his trolls from the Echo Isles and take them to Mulgore to join forces with Baine. Granted, that’s a long trip for them, but it should pay off in a few ways. One, those scrawny-ass trolls could probably use the exercise. Two, it helps give the tauren some backup for any fighting they get into as they cross the southern Barrens. And three, it means that on their way to Northwatch Hold, Baine and Vol’jin will both be leading their people right by what’s left of Camp Taurajo.
I hope they march slowly. Let them take a good long look and remember what these humans they’re so eager to keep the peace with have done to us.
I’ve got to make a few stops around Orgrimmar to make some final preparations. With any luck, by the end of the day we’ll be ready to start our march from here.
More updates soon.
Death of the dead
I swear it’s just one damn thing after another around here. I guess when you’re Warchief there really is no rest for the awesome. I hadn’t even finished unpacking from my trip to Nagrand, when Sylvanas gives me the latest news from her neck of the woods, and it’s a doozey.
Just before I had left for Outland, Sylvanas’ people – or whatever the hell you want to call them – started running into some problems down in Hillsbrad. According to her, they started experimenting with some new strains of plague down there based on my orders…you know, when I was fuming and kind of, well, crazy. Anyway. While they were at it, though, and running some tests in Southshore, seems they set something off. Not like a bomb, that is, but for lack of a better word to describe it, it’s like they triggered some kind of anti-plague.
You know that thing in physics about how for every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction? Yeah, me neither, because I wasn’t a fucking science nerd in school, but still. From the way Sylvanas tells it, it’s like this thing that hit them in Southshore was the equal and opposite reaction to their plague. Any Forsaken who were in the vicinity of the experiments got slapped back by it and…well…anti-infected. That is, it swept through those Forsaken and basically neutralized the necromantic magic that had reanimated them in the first place. So those undead got the “un” slapped clean out of them, and dropped right then and there, restored back to the forms of their original, pre-risen human and blood elf bodies. What’s more, the anti-plague has started spreading through Southshore just like a plain ol’ regular plague, which is turning the place into a growing pile of Forsaken corpses that aren’t even recognizably Forsaken anymore.
I’m having High Warlord Cromush send as many of his troops as he can spare down from Tarren Mill to try to secure the area while we work on figuring out what’s going on. In the meantime I’ll be trying to coordinate with Sylvanas’ apothecaries to figure this out. I’m guessing this might be the kind of thing some of the goblins especially might be able to sink their tinker-happy teeth into. As far as the Forsaken are concerned, Southshore is now a quarantined area.
And I know what you’re probably thinking, why am I going to knock myself out to keep this thing from taking out the undead? It’s not like I’ve ever been much of a fan of them, right? Well, for one, if you take the Forsaken out of the equation all of a sudden, now you’ve got a huge void in Horde forces in Eastern Kingdoms without orcs or tauren in place to maintain our holdings. Hell, as it stands now, even with this thing just taking out a chunk of the undead in Southshore, we’ve got worgen swarming in trying to make their move on the place already. Can you imagine what happens if it spreads up through Silverpine into fucking Tirisfal Glades? What do you think the Alliance will do if they catch wind that the Forsaken are weakened and Lordaeron is vulnerable?
So that’s one thing, the tactical side of it. And then there’s this: it’s my fault this is happening. Whatever this thing is, Sylvanas’ people set it off after I ordered her to start up her plague research again. I gave the order, she got her apothecaries going in Southshore, kaboom. By the time I came to my senses and ordered her to put a stop to it, it was already too late – news of the anti-plague was already on the way. If I hadn’t given them the go-ahead, there wouldn’t have been any plaguey business going on down there in the first place, and none of this would have happened. I basically ordered Sylvanas’ people to their (un)deaths without even knowing I was doing it. So I think I owe her on this one.
Updates to follow. I have a few meetings to get to today concerning all of this. I’ll keep you all posted on where this goes.
