Tag Archives: grimtotem
#500 GIANT-SIZED (not really) ANNIVERSARY (kind of) SPECIAL
Okay, people, I know we’ve got a hell of a lot going on these days on a whole bunch of fronts, but let’s get our damn priorities straight and take a moment to APPRECIATE THE GODDAMN AWESOMENESS OF ME.
Why, you ask? AS IF YOU NEED A REASON. But okay, fine, be that way. Even though you should already be in a constant state of awe over your Warchief, today marks an EXTRA SPECIAL awesome, awe-inspiring, awful… wait. I think I just took a wrong turn there.
…
IT’S A SPECIAL GODDAMN OCCASION IS WHAT I’M SAYING.
Reason being, the post you see before you marks the 500th BLOG POST here on the Warchief’s Command Board. That’s right, bitches, 500 posts — that’s FIVE ZERO ZERO. Go ahead and count ’em. I KNOW YOU WON’T.
But that’s where we are, people — 500 installments of EVERYBODY’S FAVORITE BLOG EVER. And riddle me this: have you read them all?
Yeah, me neither.
I mean, there were a bunch in there by guest posters like Spazzle and Mokvar, and I like those guys and everything, but not enough to actually give a shit about what they have to say about… like… anything. But whatever — like trees falling in the forest with no one there to hear them, those guests posts still… um… make a… sound when they…crash the server and… um… that is…
OKAY, THAT ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME A LITTLE, TOO. I MAY OR MAY NOT BE WORKING ON A COUPLE DRINKS, OKAY, SO STFU.
Anyhow. I’d like to thank all my loyal readers, and say that I couldn’t have done it without you. I’d LIKE to say that, but I can’t, because I totally could have. Let’s be real, scrubs, I’m the awesome one here, not you. THERE’S A REASON WHY YOU’RE READING MY BLOG AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND, NOW ISN’T THERE?
But still, the occasion calls for something special, so in keeping with this month’s theme — I DO have a Poetry Challenge in progress, after all — I figured I’d take a look back at a 500-stack of EPIC the only proper way EPIC gets done:
That “LOK’TAR OGAR!” that I blogged for a starter;
I met D&U, but my wyvern’s way smarter;
Krom’gar dropped a bomb, but I dropped his ass harder;
EO gaming, “why fly” malaprop.
Twilights on a mission for that Cho’gall demon;
Ogres versus Grimtotem, and Magatha schemin’;
Johnny Awesome, beat it; Garona, keep dreamin’;
Saurfang took a turn watching the shop.
That time I went AWOL, then I was recovered;
Grabby Mylune hugged me till I damn near smothered;
Garadar reunion with my long-lost mother;
Year one challenge, rhymes of locks in socks.
Mom was just a cruel trick Magatha unraveled;
Trouble for Forsaken; Tirion’s endless babble;
Head to old Southshore thanks to FUCKING TIME TRAVEL;
Human Faranell’s a paradox.
Psycho!Mylune rampaged, eyes more wild than dewy;
Edwin fucked the past up; all the timelines went screwy;
We straightened them out; Theramore went kablooey;
Went to Karazhan to spin some tunes.
Pandas showed up teaching how anger is managed;
Got myself some trainees: DPS advantage;
Someone ganked Mokvar; he ankhed and wound up bandaged;
Rolled up on Pandaria with my goons.
Gurtash started drawing; Vol’jin stopped his breathing;
Cloudfall spoke of destiny and got me near believing;
Mokvar met Magatha, that one had me seething;
He went off the grid — he’d best run far.
Lor’the’whatsit’s bitching still; I got pounced by Tak;
Snagged the Divine Bell; that’s when Jaina blew her stack;
DPS got lost, but I (mostly) got them back;
Meet my daughter, Shay. (Have a cigar.)
Shay’s mage class was hard, her sucker punch was hardest;
Mokvar reappeared with green fire from the Black Harvest;
Gurtash got blindsided, we were down an artist;
Made an offer Blackfuse can’t refuse.
Green-eyed wolf named Golmash acting pretty fishy;
Gurtash still needs training not to be so squishy;
Utvoch got promoted, but I kinda wish he
And Dontrag weren’t always so confused.
EPIC VERSE and lemon squares, endless reader mail;
Ruekie getting ruekied; eternal minion fail;
Mortimer’s a badass; Shayari’s hunting sales;
Earth Online guild chat is always strange.
FYV; #LadiesLoveMe, ’cause they’re not slumming;
Trolls are always trolling, dumbasses are dumbing;
500 down so far, a thousand more coming!
Okay, maybe. Times could always change.
EPIC VERSE!
Keep checking in, people. The EPIC DROPS are only just warming up.
LOK’TAR!
Spazzle Speaks: Homecoming
Mokvar is back in Orgrimmar.
That much isn’t a surprise. The thought never would have occurred to me that he wouldn’t be back.
I just never would have expected this to be the way it happened.
Mokvar was captured in the Barrens by Krog and a security team. After word came back from Garona that Mokvar had met with Magatha Grimtotem, Eitrigg issued orders that he wanted him brought in. Mokvar and his human friend Deliana were found heading toward Ratchet, and were apprehended without much of a struggle.
I was able to poke into Grommash Hold when I saw the guards arrive with them, although I wasn’t able to stick around to see everything before I was ushered back out again. No surprise, Eitrigg was absolutely livid – he was upset enough about the allegations from Ironforge, but this new development with Magatha on top of it was more than even his temper could stand.
I’m nowhere near as good as Mokvar at recording conversations, so I’m not going to be able to provide an account of what I heard as well as he could. “What are you doing?” and “What are you thinking?” featured pretty prominently for Eitrigg early on, and I distinctly remember him going off along the lines of “You realize we’ll have to report all this to Garrosh, and when he hears half of it, it will be a miracle if we’re not able to hear him screaming all the way from Pandaria.” He kept trying to get Mokvar to explain himself somehow – he kept pointing out that they’d served together for years under Garrosh and Thrall, that he wanted there to be some reason that could account for the way Mokvar’s been acting lately. Mokvar wouldn’t give him anything. He would just shrug and pass on every question. “I would prefer not to,” or something like that.
I wasn’t there for everything that was said, but here’s where things stand, from what I’ve gathered: Mokvar is being held in what amounts to house arrest. He’s confined in his home with Kor’kron guards posted at all times – partly to make sure no new attackers reach him, but mostly to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. Deliana is being held in “protective custody” pending transport back to Alliance territory.
Meanwhile, Garona is planning to join the next troop transport leaving for Pandaria next week to report everything that’s happened to Garrosh personally. Considering what she’s going to be reporting…I hope she goes in ready to pop Evasion.
In the Pale Moonlight
The less said about Ironforge, the better. Even if I wanted to discuss it, which I really don’t, now isn’t the time.
Deliana returned with me from the Eastern Kingdoms, and we met Ji briefly in Ratchet. He had good news (relatively speaking, at least) from the errand I’d sent him on, even though it had ended up running him from Desolace to Feralas then all the way back up to Stonetalon. After we all exchanged notes, I sent Ji back home to Orgrimmar. He resisted at first; he wanted to come with us for this next step. But he was already deeper in this mess than I’d wanted him to get, and besides, this was my fight, not his.
Liana and I arranged windrider passage from Ratchet down to Mudsprocket. From there, it was a fairly short ride over to the Wyrmbog, and the cave that used to be the lair of Onyxia.
We entered the cave. We didn’t venture far, just deep enough to find a corner where every point of entry was visible. Onyxia’s been dead for years, of course, but that didn’t stop it from being unnerving to go in there. I’m sure it would have been unsettling in any case, but considering the rumors Theldren had brought back about Nefarian’s old forces being restless again, I found myself still half-expecting a black dragon to come jumping out of the shadows at any moment. After all, Nefarian and Onyxia had both come back from the dead once already. Not that I’m one to talk; I’ve died a couple times myself. Spirits willing, I’d like the last time to stay the last for a good long while.
Eventually, we heard footsteps, and saw the light of a torch approaching from the same direction we’d come. The footsteps slowly drew nearer, until a single tauren stepped into view. Between his dark fur and the shadows that shifted around him in the dim cave, he probably seemed a lot larger than he really was.
TAUREN: You are Mokvar?
Mokvar nods.
MOKVAR: Are you alone?
The tauren tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow.
You know what I mean.
TAUREN: We honor the terms of the meeting, of course.
MOKVAR: <faint grin> So in other words, the rest of your friends are waiting right outside the cave.
DELIANA: Do you want me to check outside and see—
TAUREN: If we’d wished to harm you, little one, you would already know it.
MOKVAR: There’s no need, Liana. He has a point – if we’re screwed at this point, we’re screwed no matter what.
The tauren looks back and forth between Mokvar and Deliana, then back up the passageway through which he’d entered. He lifts a horn to his mouth and sounds a low blare. Deliana continues to watch him closely; the tauren returns her gaze bemusedly.
TAUREN: You’re going to make me think you don’t trust us, little one.
DELIANA: You might say you have something of a reputation.
TAUREN: <nods toward Mokvar> So do the orcs. That doesn’t seem to have affected you.
DELIANA: <shrugs> I like green.
The tauren chuckles. From the passageway, footsteps become audible again and grow progressively closer. After a moment, Magatha Grimtotem enters the chamber and scans the scene.
MAGATHA: Ah, Mokvar. It’s been too long.
MOKVAR: Magatha. I’m surprised you remember me, to tell the truth.
MAGATHA: I never forget a face. <looks to Deliana> This one is new, though.
MOKVAR: Yes, she is.
Magatha smirks.
MAGATHA: You’re not going to introduce us, Mokvar? How rude of you.
MOKVAR: On top of everything else, Magatha, do we really need to maintain the pretense that we’re friends now, too?
MAGATHA: I’m merely trying to be cordial. <to Deliana> Is he always this prickly?
DELIANA: No. You must have that effect on people. <looks to Mokvar, then back to Magatha> But, if it makes you feel any better… Deliana Hawthorne.
MAGATHA: The pleasure is mine.
DELIANA: It would have to be.
MAGATHA: I’m beginning to see why you two get along.
Magatha looks around the cavern.
This is an interesting choice of venues, Mokvar. Something of a step down from your usual accommodations, isn’t it?
MOKVAR: A change of scenery now and then can be a good thing. For instance, last I heard, you were on the run even from your own tribe.
MAGATHA: You’ll find the Grimtotem tend not to hold grudges long against their own kind. And I can be very persuasive.
MOKVAR: Just as well. It made it a little easier for Ji to get my message to you.
MAGATHA: I must say I was intrigued. I’m not unaccustomed to being the object of some…pursuit…but usually only from your Warchief’s usual lot of knuckle-dragging lackeys. Your furry friend, however…
MOKVAR: Not your typical Orgrimmar grunt, I know.
MAGATHA: Yes, he had a polysyllabic vocabulary. And spent a not-inconsiderable time musing over whether we had anything extra to eat.
MOKVAR: That’s Ji, yeah.
MAGATHA: Regardless, I’m quite curious as to why you would seek me out, given the company you usually keep. Then again… <looks to Deliana> …I doubt your current companion would be well received in Orgrimmar herself.
DELIANA: Maybe he’s trying to make me look better by bringing in one of the only people who would be less welcome.
MAGATHA: <chuckles> As plausible a theory as any. <looks back to Mokvar> But not the right one, I suspect.
MOKVAR: I have some business that’s going to require me to travel to the Firelands. Trouble is, I’m still relatively inexperienced as a shaman, and my ability to influence the elements isn’t nearly strong enough to keep me safe there. You, on the other hand…well, whatever else I might think of you, there’s no disputing you’re a powerful shaman.
MAGATHA: You flatter me.
MOKVAR: Take it with a grain of salt. It’s one strength offsetting I don’t know how many despicable things about you.
DELIANA: I bet she’d also go great with fries.
MAGATHA: If we’re going to be racist, I’m sure you would be quite adept at climbing trees and picking bananas. <sneers> Especially green ones.
MOKVAR: The point is, I think you might know a trick or two that could help keep me alive when I go. That’s why I wanted to meet with you.
MAGATHA: And why turn to me, Mokvar? There’s certainly no shortage of shaman in Orgrimmar you could have turned to.
MOKVAR: I’d prefer to keep this trip to the Firelands off the record.
MAGATHA: The Cenarion druids at Mouth Hyjal? Thrall and his Earthen Ring?
MOKVAR: Very off the record.
MAGATHA: It must be quite the scandal you’re sitting on if you’d rather turn to me than confide in your supposed friends.
MOKVAR: I have my reasons.
MAGATHA: And those reasons would be…?
MOKVAR: Mine.
Magatha grins.
MAGATHA: Cairne would have liked you.
MOKVAR: Then it’s a shame he was murdered by a traitor before he got the chance to know me.
MAGATHA: You shouldn’t talk about your Warchief like that.
DELIANA: As much as I’m enjoying going back and forth with this…
MAGATHA: Indeed, let’s cut to the chase. You need my help, Mokvar, so now for the real question: Why should I give it to you?
MOKVAR: We both know you don’t harbor any ill will for me, Magatha. I may work for Garrosh, but your quarrel is with him, not me. He’s the one you hate.
MAGATHA: True enough. But that’s merely why it wouldn’t be worth it to me to go out of my way to hurt you, Mokvar, not why it would be worth helping you.
MOKVAR: You’re focusing on the wrong part. Think about this, Magatha. I work for Garrosh. I’m there in Grommash Hold every day. Do you not think that makes me someone who would be…useful to have indebted to you?
MAGATHA: Surely you’re not naïve enough to assume I don’t already have my informants.
MOKVAR: Are they in Garrosh’s inner circle? Do they attend every meeting with him? Keep a written record, literally, of nearly everything he says and does?
MAGATHA: <smiles thoughtfully> Interesting…
MOKVAR: I thought you might think so.
MAGATHA: I think I may have an item or two that might help augment your abilities sufficiently for what you have in mind. Nothing worldshattering, mind you…
MOKVAR: That’s fine. I’ve already lived through too many shattered worlds as it is.
MAGATHA: We can meet again here for the exchange. Tomorrow at this time?
DELIANA: How do we know you won’t just be setting a trap?
MAGATHA: How did you know I wasn’t setting one tonight? There are two of you – three if you count your bouncing bear friend. I could bring dozens with a word. But Mokvar was right about one thing – I have nothing to gain from harming him. And whatever else you might think of me, I’m not in the habit of doing harm when there’s no benefit to myself or my tribe.
MOKVAR: Tomorrow night, then.
MAGATHA: Tomorrow night.
Magatha gestures to the other Grimtotem, and they make their way back up the passage.
DELIANA: Are you sure about this?
MOKVAR: Not even remotely. I may spend the next year washing my hands.
Mokvar peers up the dark passageway for several moments.
I think we’re clear.
Mokvar and Deliana start to walk up toward the cave exit. As the passage narrows, a low whooshing sound is heard. Deliana hesitates a moment while glancing around.
DELIANA: <whispering> Did you hear that?
Mokvar nods.
<whispering> There’s someone stealthed in here.
MOKVAR: <whispering> It’s Garona. She came in not far behind us when we arrived.
DELIANA: <whispering> You knew she was following us?
MOKVAR: <whispering> I was counting on it.
We’re staying in Mudsprocket until we go back to Onyxia’s lair tomorrow night. With any luck, things will go off without a hitch there, and Magatha will have something useful for me. Then that much will be over and done with.
Then comes the hard part.
Mokvar
Back to Azeroth
Back home in Orgrimmar. It was a long trip, but definitely worth it. Other than the gateway herbage. But the less said about that the better.
I’m mostly going to spend the day getting settled back in and resting some, plus starting to sift through my mail for this week – looks like there’s a fair amount for some reason. Then I can start check on how big a mess Eitrigg and the others made while I was away that I get to clean up now.
One thing that I’ve been thinking about on the trip back though. When Magatha wrote to me a week or so ago, she made a passing reference to Grebo having been helping her “for a price.” That really kind of sticks in my craw, the idea that Grebo was actually working for Magatha back in the day, but it also kind of makes sense the more I think of it. I even got a letter ages ago that was intended for Grebo – dead by that point – thanking him for his work in Stonetalon, and mentioning something about reimbursement, and it was just signed “MGT.” At the time I just figured it was from the management of some business Grebo was working with on the side. Never thought to make the connection MGT = Magatha GrimTotem…
Not to mention, I always wondered why that little pocket of Grimtotem up there in Stonetalon were able to remain such a nuisance, with all the personnel we’ve moved into the area. Hell, I even commented once on how quickly Overlord Cliffwalker managed to crack down on the Grimtotem up there after he replaced Krom’gar. I just thought maybe it was a tauren pride thing. But no, when Cliffwalker took over for Krom’gar, that was the same time that Grebo died too. And Grebo being Krom’gar’s XO, it makes sense he would have had plenty of chances to manipulate things to give Magatha’s people breathing room.
So that little snippet of news helps make sense of a few things. Still, it gnaws at me that he was working for Magatha at all in the first place. Granted Grebo was an asshole to begin with, so in a way it’s kind of a relief that he wasn’t totally on board with us, but still, it’s grating to think Magatha could have gotten one of our officers in her pocket like that. Oh well. Guess it’s just one more reason to turn the torture up to eleven when we finally catch her, right?
[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Ancestral Grounds
Writing from Garadar. I’m going to stay in Outland another day or two, maybe pay a few visits to some familiar faces while I’m here. Today I mostly needed some time to myself.
I went to the Ancestral Grounds this morning. I flew around the western mountains for a while, and eventually, after some looking, I finally spotted a small cave with the remains of a makeshift hut just outside. When I went inside, I found a few dusty boxes of supplies, some cooking gear, a few other little odds and ends… To one side there was a fairly heavy chest that looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. Until today, anyway. Nothing shocking inside, just tidy folded stacks of clothes. They smelled like old parchment and dreaming glories.
Against the back wall of the cave, laid out on a sturdy but uneven table, there was the body of an orc woman. She was covered from head to foot in the ceremonial wrappings that are used in tauren custom. I guess even Magatha has a line or two she wouldn’t cross when it comes to respecting the remains of the dead.
And laying beside the table, discarded and inactive, I found a tauren totem. It had the same configuration, the same Grimtotem markings as the shadebind totem I’d found in Hyjal when I had my run-in with Krom’gar’s ghost. I’ll be keeping it with me this time. Not that there’s much left for anyone to do with it.
I carried Lakkara’s remains down to the Ancestral Grounds and buried her in a vacant spot, just across from where they’d buried Dranosh Saurfang. I think she would have liked it there. She always used to try to keep an eye on him. She probably would have been a little sad to see him there with her already, but not surprised. He was always showing up for things early.
After I’d finished, I sat near the grave and looked down from the hillside. I stayed there a while, looking out toward Oshu’gun, and watched Banthar – herd mother for half a lifetime now – wander with her pack across the Spirit Fields.
Back to the drawing board
The attack on Theramore is on hold.
I’m still fuming over…hell, what am I NOT fuming over right now? Yesterday when I finished my debriefing with Draz’Zilb over the Grimtotem messenger, I just stormed back in here to the war room and threw that model of Theramore the Gob Squad had made into the wall – bounced it right off the pin-covered strategic map we’d drawn up of Dustwallow – smashed it to a hundred pieces…
Any now I get to spend my time thinking about what I was about to do, if I hadn’t been stopped by absolutely NOTHING other than sheer dumb luck.
Let me be clear about something (you know, before I get another talking to from ACC): I don’t suddenly have qualms about attacking the humans, or hitting Theramore if it makes sense strategically. But the last several days I got myself so wound up in a fury I was about to go rushing into a thrown-together attack, and more importantly, it wasn’t just the attack itself. It was how I was going about it. Specifically, Draz’Zilb’s corruption idea. That wasn’t just a military strike – assuming the spell worked the way it’s supposed to, that would be wiping out EVERY LIVING THING from the point of deployment spreading and spreading until it had physically run out of things to kill.
I’ve got no problem with fighting a war. But now that I’m seeing straight, I’ll be damned if I’m going to become a war criminal. I’m not going to fight the humans by becoming them.
And in this case…after that baiting by Magatha…
That’s twice now she almost turned me into a monster.
So Theramore is going on the shelf. For now. At least until we’ve had a chance to work out an actual military plan that doesn’t involve necromantic weapons of genocide, and I’m not letting my temper make my decisions for me. The Dustwallow map is staying where it is until then, as a reminder…
In the meantime, though, I still have a few things I need to do – starting with informing Draz’Zilb his little pet project is canceled – and some pieces I still need to pick up.
More soon.
Failed retraction
You know, they say you’re not supposed to kill the messenger, but in this case I just couldn’t help myself. So that was that for Grimtotem #1. As for Grimtotem #2, the one we found lurking around the Dranosh’ar Blockade, I still wanted some answers about what HIS deal was, so I handed him over to our old friend Draz’Zilb and told him to work his magic (literally). Here’s what he dug up.
Both of these Grimtotem were among a small portion of the tribe still loyal to Magatha. Ever since her business with the Twilights, most of her people got pretty chilly with her, at the least, but she still has a handful of supporters. These were two.
The original messenger was sent with Magatha’s letter several days ago. The whole point – obviously – was to give me a few days after…well, you know…to give me time to stew and suffer and really sit down for a big serving of my own liver, and then slap me with the truth to rub salt in the wound. Apparently, though, after the messenger was sent out, Magatha somehow caught wind of what we have brewing for the humans – Draz’Zilb’s uber-corruption and Sylvanas’ plague and the attack on Theramore and I’m thinking maybe I should stop announcing this stuff on the internet. Anyway. So she decided it would be better to hold off on telling me the truth until AFTER I’d opened all those cans of worms. Why not get me going taking my vengeance on the humans, THEN hit me with the revelation that I was avenging myself on the wrong people? In Magatha-World, that’s just getting the best return on your investment.
So, that’s when she sent Grimtotem #2 to try to intercept Grimtotem #1, to try to prevent that letter from being delivered just yet. It was just pure dumb luck that we got it before that could happen.
That’s us. Just swimming in good luck.
Not quite Monday, not quite mailbag
(Or, for the math nerds out there, NotQuite(Monday + Mailbag). I don’t really understand what that means. Spazzle said it would go over like gangbusters, though.)
The Grimtotem warrior that Nazgrim was holding in Brackenwall Village was delivered to Orgrimmar. As it turns out, she was a messenger. She had wanted to be brought to Orgrimmar in order to deliver a letter – to me personally.
On a side note, just before she arrived here, some of our soldiers captured a SECOND Grimtotem sneaking around the Dranosh’ar Blockade. This one’s being pretty tight-lipped about what he was doing there, so I’m guessing that one wasn’t another messenger. So I’m not sure what to make of that.
For now, though, it’s that first one that’s the bigger deal, because the message she was delivering…well, here, see for yourself.
Dearest Warchief Hellscream,
I hope this letter finds you well. Actually, let us not put up false pretenses; I don’t at all hope it finds you well, and further, I know that it will not.
Word has reached me of the terrible tragedy you have recently suffered, concerning the loss of your dear mother Lakkara. I believe I have some information concerning her loss that will be of interest to you. Indeed, you may even take some solace in this knowledge – you see, my good Garrosh, you have not truly lost her at all. That would require you to have ever truly had her back.
Allow me to share with you a most curious tale.
After my recent, shall we say, difficulties with many of my Grimtotem kin, I decided to retire temporarily through the Dark Portal to Outland – a remarkable spectacle at first sight, I must say. I do so love what your fellow orcs have done with the place. My handful of followers and I found the region of Nagrand by far the most hospitable – I will thank you for forgoing any obvious remarks concerning the ready availability of grass – and so we took up temporary residence in its outlying territories, near to your Mag’har kin’s Ancestral Grounds.
It was there that a most interesting thing took place. While foraging in the nearby hills, my associates happened upon a small, secluded cave in the mountainside. Inside, they found the body of an orcish woman who appeared to have died some years prior. Ever a student of spiritual custom, I found myself curious as to how the woman had come to be there, and why the Mag’har, usually so diligent in matters of honoring their dead, would have left her remains to go unburied in some remote cave. And so, I and my colleagues undertook some cautious investigations.
I will not trouble you with the details of our methods; suffice to say, in short order, we found to our amazement that we had discovered the remains of Lakkara, mate of the great Grommash Hellscream, last victim of the pernicious red pox that once ravaged the orcs.
Ordinarily, I would be loathe to disturb the fallen ancestors of any people. But, as I am sure you will understand, I am equally loathe to pass up a glowing opportunity.
You may recall, several weeks ago, investigating a Twilight’s Hammer cabal in Hyjal, resulting in some rather troubling visions courtesy of a conveniently placed shadebind totem. In a stroke of good fortune for me, and short-sightedness for you (both of which, I must say, I was rather counting on), you neglected in your rattled state to collect the offending totem. This made it possible for one of my associates to do so shortly thereafter – the totem, by this point, having attuned itself to you, my good Warchief, for purposes of binding to itself a few select spirits intimately linked to your soul. One crucial one in particular.
From there, it was a simple matter to summon forth Lakkara’s spirit and prepare her for her “return.” With the spiritbinding of her dear son to draw upon, and her actual body on hand, the other necessary manipulations were laborious but hardly difficult. A few selective blurrings of memories…the instilling of a few small additional ones…minor tinkering around the edges of the shadow of her mind: all trivial undertakings, really, once the real work of invocation was done. All the more trivial given how readily she took to them – only too happy to imagine that she had watched her son’s growth in life rather than from the beyond.
The entire process she would perceive – with some subtle nudging – as our careful ministration of her illness. (Not entirely an untruth, I might add.) And the fact of her past contagion would ensure that she would not allow anyone close enough to touch her, and thus discover her noncorporeal state.
And so, with that, it was simply a matter of placing a few totems to summon her into sustained phantasmal being and set her on her way to Garadar. Greatmother Geyah was, of course, the real test, but I hardly had any doubts that my Lakkara would pass inspection – my Lakkara was, after all, the real Lakkara. Or what remained of her spirit, more or less.
It was only a matter of time before she would seek out her dear boy.
Of course, your time together would, as you already know, be short-lived. The elder crone giveth, and the elder crone taketh away. In this case, the instrument of her removal would likewise come via shadebind – in this case, your former underling Gerbo, who, you may be surprised to learn, was from time to time of assistance to me in his days in Stonetalon. For a price, of course, but he was, quite frankly, something of a bargain as such matters go. At any rate, given our previous…association, and his own lingering distaste for his former Warchief, he was only too amenable to lending his aid one last time in death.
It takes a ghost to slay a ghost, after all.
You might well ask, at this point, why I would take the trouble to construct so elaborate a charade. Why would I invest such time and effort to conjure up the illusion of Lakkara, only to dispel it once again, all for no apparent, tangible gain.
You might well ask, but I suspect you need not. For illusory though she may have been, to you, dear Garrosh, she was real. And there is no agony quite so sharp as that of rescinded hope, is there, Warchief?
I will admit, my earlier efforts against you in the Bastion of Twilight were misguided. Then, I had sought to take my revenge by killing you. A foolish, short-sighted goal, I realize now. A terrible mistake whose failure, though grating at the time, has proven to be a blessing in disguise.
You see, I no longer have any desire to kill you. I’ve hurt you. And I intend to go on hurting you.
Enjoy your empty nest, dear Warchief. You will hear from me again.
–Magatha Grimtotem
…
Excuse me. I…think I need to step away from the computer for a minute.
…
…
…
Okay.
So.
I know a lot of you have been reading this blog for a while, and you probably already have an idea what to expect at this point. So you’re probably going to be a little surprised here.
See, ordinarily this would be the point where I start yelling, and going into all caps, and screaming bloody murder, and ranting on and on about how brutally I’m going to murder Magatha, and on and on, and filling up a couple paragraphs with how Magatha’s going to die, she’s going to die, oh holy crap she is so. Totally. Going. To die.
I’m not going to do that now.
See how calm I’m staying? Keeping it together, no yelling, not raising my voice even a little.
Want to know why?
You know that level of anger where it’s not burning up inside you, not even because it’s burned itself out – because that would imply it’s run its course and is done with – but because it’s gone so far beyond that burning, fiery, jump-up-and-down, stomp-your-feet kind of angry? That anger where the screaming and venting is just wasted energy, and you’re not going to waste any of that energy that you could save up to erase whoever or whatever it was that pushed you that far? You know that kind of angry?
I am so utterly beyond that right now.
So all I’m going to say is this.
You don’t have to worry about my rage, Magatha. I usually make a pretty big show of using up my rage. But rage is just anger that’s burned up and channeled into something else, expended as quickly as it comes. Rage is nothing. But anger that’s contained, even cultivated? That’s like a wine. It grows deeper, and richer, and ferments into something greater. It grows more potent. It grows creative.
Anger is the mother of invention. And it has an infinite, indelible memory.
So don’t worry about me ranting on and on and how you’re going to die, Magatha. I know it’s what you’re expecting from me, but not this time. That’s a promise.
You’re not going to die, Magatha.
You’re going to beg to.
And when you do, I’m going to be completely, utterly, hideously…calm.
News from two fronts
Everything is going on schedule – maybe better – with the ogres and their move from Brackenwall Village to Alcaz Island. General Nazgrim has gone to Dustwallow Marsh to personally oversee everything, and set up base in Brackenwall with everyone who’ll be going with him on the initial strike on Theramore. The remaining ogres have been moving to Alcaz in small groups, with infantry escorts scouting the terrain around their travel path to make sure they’re not being observed.
One interesting development in the midst of all this: one of the relocation groups have reported that while just making their way out of Brackenwall Village, they had a run-in with a Grimtotem warrior. “Run-in” in the sense that the tauren was making a bee line to Brackenwall, and just happened to run up on the travel party on the way. Either way, she didn’t much care about being intercepted, and only seemed concerned about finding Horde personnel, essentially to turn herself in. When they took her into custody, she insisted she needed to be brought to Orgrimmar. Nazgrim is going to question her in the village and then see about sending her along this way, depending on whether he sees something fishy in the works. We ARE talking about a Grimtotem, after all, but then again, Magatha’s been largely on the outs with her own tribe ever since her last little scheme, so who knows.
Meanwhile, we’ve got news from the investigations in Stonetalon, and the bottom line could be good or not depending on how you want to look at it. Dontrag and Utvoch didn’t have much luck finding a whole lot of anything, other than tripping into one of those huge sludge pools at the Sludgewerks and finding themselves a giant sludge monster that hit them with some kind of sludge breath and sludge sludge sludge if I have to hear either one of them say “sludge” one more time I might have to behead them. Which I’m right on the edge of doing half the time anyway.
Krog, on the other hand, managed to have better luck. He was stealthing around near Farwatcher’s Glen, on the outskirts of their graveyard – where he found our old friend Grebo. Or what was left of him. According to Krog, the body was in pretty bad shape, had obviously been hacked up pretty badly by someone, or probably multiple someones. So safe to say Grebo didn’t meet a good end. Shiny. I only wish I could have been there to have been a part of it. Still, we don’t know WHO did us the favor of offing him, or why they decided to chuck the body off into the bushes to rot.
Still…as much as I’d like to let him KEEP rotting, at this point I’m not leaving anything else to chance. I’m having the body transported to Malaka’jin, where it’ll be burned on a funeral pyre. Normally I would send something like this to Cliffwalker Post, but that’s only going to dredge up painful memories for Overlord Cliffwalker. Odds are he and I would draw even in the Who Hates Grebo More competition, so I figure I’ll spare him having to deal with this one.
Burn well, Grebo. I’m sure, wherever you are now, you already are.
I am become death
If you’ve been paying attention lately, you might have noticed I’ve been having a lot of contact with some of our people down in Brackenwall Village – Krog about the goings-on in Stonetalon, Draz’Zilb about his potential uber-corruption spell. It hasn’t been a coincidence.
No surprise to anyone that I’ve been on a pretty steady boil ever since I realized that Varian and Jaina were in the guild and must have heard me talking about where I was going with my mother last week. I don’t know why I should be shocked by anything these humans do at this point. Thing is, though, Varian I can at least see. I mean, make no mistake, I hate that motherfucker, but at least it makes sense for him to have it in for me as well, and he’s not one to make any pretenses about it. We’ve had bad blood going back to the Violet Citadel, probably further, not to mention he’s a hateful dimwitted warmongering orc-hating bigot, so of course he would grab any opportunity to strike at me. And if an innocent has to die in the process, all the better. It’s Varian. I get it.
But Jaina? THAT sticks in my craw. Let’s even set aside all the joking around and clowning I do on her and all the cracks about her being a slut which granted they’re totally true but not really germane to the conversation right now. But this is the woman who tried to play herself off as Little Miss Peacemaker. Always playing the diplomat, coming off like she’s the level-headed human willing to yank Varian back when he’s being an asshole (which, admittedly, probably kept her pretty busy). Always hiding behind her incomprehensible friendship with Thrall, like that made her better and nobler than the rest of her kind. Like she just wants to be our friend too.
And she was a part of this. Even if she wasn’t taking action herself, she knew. She was there. And all the while she probably kept on wearing her “Oh dear me, why can’t we all work together?” fake smile.
So guess what our first target is going to be.
I’ve been meeting with General Nazgrim to work out the logistics for our first strike on Theramore. We’re planning two waves. The first will be a ground strike launched out of Brackenwall, hitting the main gate of the city with several infantry detachments with artillery support. That initial wave will serve two purposes: one, to break down the city’s outer defenses and allow our troops to make their way inside, and two, to keep Theramore’s defenses focused on the main gate, while the second wave comes in by sea and hits the harbor.
The second wave will be the key one, and deceptively small. We’ll be bringing quite a few ships, but very few troops aside from the actual crews necessary to navigate the vessels. The real purpose of the naval strike will be to hit the harbor, land, and get a single squadron to deliver the real centerpiece of the attack: Draz’Zilb, bearer of the new experimental chain corruption spell.
Remember how I mentioned Draz’Zilb’s spell sounded promising, but needed to be tested until controlled conditions? Well Theramore is going to be our field test. Our troops are going to get Draz’Zilb into the city long enough for him to find a decent-size cluster of humans, cast the spell, and then get back to the harbor while the chain reaction begins. Once the spell is deployed, our incursion group will fire off a signal to let all our troops know it’s underway. At that point, EVERYONE will head to the ships – the ground troops near the front gate can be making their way around the outer walls toward the shore – and then get out of there by sea. Hence bringing so many ships when we didn’t have that many troops in the naval group.
It works out perfectly, really. Theramore makes the ideal test target: a solitary human colony, densely populated but easy enough to isolate. As much as Dustwallow Marsh is swarming with life, it’s mostly spiders, crocolisks…nothing that isn’t expendable. Black dragonkin, the last leftovers of Onyxia’s brood? Good riddance. Yeah, a couple Grimtotem settlements, but do you think I’m going to shed any tears over them? The whole marsh is separated from the rest of Kalimdor by mountains and sea, perfectly enclosed. No spreading of the chain corruption beyond that one zone, however it plays out.
I love when things work out neatly like that.
Nazgrim and I are getting the last details sorted out. I even got a couple of the goblins from the Gob Squad to come in and put together a scale model of Theramore and its environs for us here in the war room, to help plan out troop and ship placement.
The only small wrinkle is the ogres in Brackenwall, seeing as we don’t want to end up wiping them all out with the corruption. Would be kind of rude, what with it being Draz’Zilb’s spell and all. So I’m having most of the ogre population – the ones who won’t be going on the actual attack – relocated temporarily to Alcaz Island. They’ll be safely isolated there until everything blows over, plus we can even use the island as a staging ground for the naval strike.
Preparations are already underway. I’ve had the ogres moving in small numbers for the last couple of days, so we can do it gradually enough not to draw attention. A couple more days and they should be safely situated on the island, and then we’ll be ready to start. And if things go according to plan, pretty soon Sylvanas’ plague will have some competition over on the other continent.
[Header image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks. Click here to see the souped-up Postcard version!]
