Tag Archives: hamuul runetotem
30 Days of Character Development #6: Mylune
[Each week — or some remote facsimile thereof — a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about.]
Name: Mylune
Occupation: Caretaker of Hyjal, wildlife custodian
Race: Forest nymph
Class: Druid
Age: Unknown, though her behavior would suggest fairly young by nymph standards
Group affiliations: Guardians of Hyjal (member), Cenarion Circle (member)
Known relatives: Cenarius (exact relationship unclear, but all forest nymphs are descended from dryads, who are daughters of Cenarius)
Earth Online notes: Mercifully, no one has told Mylune about Earth Online. Or possibly about the internet. Probably for the best in both cases.
First appearance: “Of wyverns and pine cones”
Key posts and plot points:
- Garrosh has only encountered Mylune a few times, but those few times have been memorable ones. He first met everyone’s favorite overly energetic nymph in “Of wyverns and pine cones,” in which Mylune was a bit too excited to meet Mortimer. This came as a shock to no one — least of all Hamuul Runetotem — other than the Warchief himself.
- Garrosh had another run-in with Mylune (much to his chagrin) a few months later, in “Attack of the petting zoo.” This time around, Mylune unleashed her boundless affection on a pack of armed critters dwelling amid the northern plateaus of Mulgore. This time, however, the critters were ready to put up a fight, the distress of which eventually launched Mylune into what can only be described as a psychotic episode. For the record, Hamuul narrowly missed winning Malfurion’s office pool on when she would snap.
- It only follows, then, that when Ben-Lin Cloudstrider organized an anger management seminar in the appropriately named “Anger management,” Mylune would be one of the attendees. Given that the session consisted of putting Mylune, Garrosh, Lor’thermar Theron, and Tirion Fordring in a room together…well…the exercise proved less than productive. Unless, of course, you’re Faranell, in which case it was a terrific way to spend an afternoon.
In her own words:
What are your most prominent physical features?
Hi! How are you? I hope you’re having a super happy wonderful day, because why wouldn’t you when we have this beautiful world to share with all our adorable woodland friends!
Oh… Did you ask a question? Okay! Well, I guess I have extra big blue eyes — for looking out for all the cuddly animals! And my long pointed ears…to listen for the cuddly animals! And…oh, and my slender but surprisingly steel-trap-like arms, for hugging the cuddly animals! They’re just so sweet and cute, so how could I resist! And hug them to my bosom! Nice and close to my heart, that’s big and warm and just bursting with love for the animals! Does that count too?
Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from. If you don’t have any, is there a reason?
I do have this one little scar on my shoulder here, but you know? It’s a funny thing! I don’t really remember where it came from. Isn’t that weird?
Describe your happiest memory.
Ohhh that would have to be the first time I went up to Nordrassil. It was before that mean demon guy climbed up there and made everyone sad for a while, and I’ll always remember walking through the passage to the peak of Mount Hyjal, and seeing all the animals running around and playing, just bunnies and squirrels and raccoons and skunks and chipmunks and OH MY LUNE they were all so adorable, and the sun was shining and the birds were singing, and like three rainbows all appeared in the sky, and I just ran and ran all around with the animals and we played and hugged and snuggled and it was all such a big happy wonderful blur but Mal says it was okay because eventually I passed out from exhaustion and finally got quiet and also because ale.
Is there one event or happening you would like to erase from your past? Why?
The incident. Only Miss Cloudy-bear said I should try not to think about the incident. So, what?
What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?
Coffee ice cream — I really really like coffee, did you know it helps give you extra energy? Isn’t that just super?! And my favorite color is green, and my favorite song is…oh, you know that one? It always seems to be playing when you walk through the forests. You know the one? It goes like this — laaa, la la la laaaaa, la la la laah, luh la lahhh? It’s so pretty! I don’t really understand where it’s coming from, though.
Who do you trust?
Hamuul, and Malfurion, even though Hamuul can be all my cranky-hooves sometimes. And Mal always seems to be hovering around watching me like he’s looking for something, but I know it’s just because he cares. I trust all my forest nymph sisters, too, even though a lot of them don’t really hang out with me much.
Can you define a turning point in your life? Multiples are acceptable.
The incident. OH MY LUNE! Why do you keep bringing up the incident?! I’m not supposed to think about that! What? What incident? Happy thoughts! HAPPY THOUGHTS!
Is there an animal you equate to yourself?
<Mylune’s eyes go large and dewy>
I have to pick ONE? But they’re all so SQUEEEEEEE!
How do you react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?
I don’t deal with cold as well as my cousins the frost nymphs, but I really, REALLY don’t like extreme heat! That’s sounds like something from those burny guys from the Firelands! You’re not with THEM, are you?!
Are you an early morning bird or a night owl?
I’m always up bright and early! Why waste the warm snuggly sunlight?
Are you a good cook? What’s your favorite recipe?
OH MY LUNE why do you keep trying to talk about the incident? What’s WRONG with you? Okay, you know what! Fine! FINE! YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT? WE’LL TALK ABOUT IT! SO YEAH, I’M GOOD MOTHERFUCKING COOK, AS IF YOU DIDN’T ALREADY FUCKING KNOW! AND YOU KNOW WHAT I COOK REALLY WELL, IT TURNS OUT? RABBIT FUCKING STEW! BECAUSE GUESS WHAT, ASSHOLE — SPOILER ALERT: THE DEATH OF THE SOUL TASTES FUCKING DELICIOUS!
Do you have any irrational fears?
Gee, I don’t know, what do you think — maybe I have a deep-seeded fear of HAVING ANOTHER FUCKING BLACKOUT AND WAKING UP AMID THE BODIES AGAIN? YOU THINK MAYBE THAT KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT?
What would your cutie mark be?
Oooh, well, maybe a heart or a rainbow, or, hey, HOW ABOUT A FUCKING SKULL AND CROSSBONES, BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK NOT IF YOU’RE GOING TO KEEP BRINGING IT UP, YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!
If you could time travel, where would you go?
WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK I WOULD GO, ASSHOLE? MAYBE BACK TO THE GODDAMN INCIDENT YOU WON’T STOP FUCKING TALKING ABOUT! MAYBE I’D LIKE TO TAKE THAT ONE BACK, YA THINK?!
Are you superstitious?
I know karma’s a bitch, I can tell you THAT much!
Describe your hands. Are they small, long, calloused, smooth, stubby?
COVERED WITH DARK RED STAINS OF LOST INNOCENCE THAT WILL NEVER, EVER COME OUT. I WASH THEM, AND WASH THEM, AND THEY NEVER COME OUT.
How do you smell? Do you wear perfume or cologne?
Um… <deep breath> Smell? Oh, like smelling salts? Um…yes, those might be handy. They’re usually pretty helpful.
Is…is Hamuul around anywhere? I think I need to talk to him. I don’t know if the herbs Miss Cloudy-bear gave me are working…
Previous Profiles:
* * * * *
[A few quick OOC notes looking ahead: I have a big stack of material on the way (hopefully) over the next week-plus, then, the weekend after next, remember that we have our next Meta Raid. Clear your (raid) calendars for Saturday, May 10, at 8:00 PM EDT!
That Saturday (May 10) will also mark the beginning of a short break I’ll be taking from posting — I’m going to take the following week off to tend to RL commitments and do some advance prepping for the next stretch of posts. To send you off with a bang, though, and to add an extra perk to the Meta Raid, I’m going to have one last post going up that night, right as we’re gathering for our night of SoO hijinks. (Place your bets now on whether I’m going to cook up something to leave you hanging for a bit…)]
Anger management
The other day I mentioned there being some meeting that Orphan Matron Battlewail wanted me to attend if I were serious about getting Gurtash. She had me check in with Social Services, which is being run by some goblins these days. Don’t ask me how that happened. But they filled in a little more of the story. They’ve got one of Ji Firepaw’s panda friends holding a kind of seminar on dealing with anger, and they’ve opened it up to anybody who wants to attend. The only catch – well, other than the fact that this whole fucking waste of time is one huge catch in itself since WTF why do these fuckers keep acting like I’ve got some kind of fucking problem with my goddamn temper or some shit – is that they want all the attendees to have someone come with them, sort of a sponsor. My first thought was to bring Malkorok, seeing as he’s technically my bodyguard and should be going places with me anyway, but then I got to thinking that this gig might not be the kind of thing that…well…let’s just say the purposes of the session might not be facilitated by having Malkorok in the room.
Plus, really, why do I need a bodyguard again? Isn’t that kind of like getting a watch dog to guard your giant rabid wolverine?
So, bottom line, I got Mokvar to come with me. Which also had the added benefit of…
Garrosh and Mokvar enter a room in which several chairs have been arranged in a circle. At the far end of the room, a middle-aged pandaren woman is talking with Eitrigg.
GARROSH: So, um, we’re here for the meeting? Not sure we’ve got the right place.
The pandaren woman, all smiles, walks over to greet them.
PANDAREN: Oh, no, you are in the right place, Warchief. It is good to see you again.
GARROSH: Yeah, you too. We’ve met?
PANDAREN: <laughs softly> Yes, a few weeks back, but I will understand if you do not remember me. You were meeting quite a few of us from the Wandering Isle that day.
GARROSH: Ah. Yeah. And to be honest, no offense, most of you pandas still sort of blend together for me.
PANDAREN: Are you saying my people all look alike to you?
GARROSH: Actually not so much all look alike as there are like six variations I can recognize.
MOKVAR: To be fair, I’m not sure we orcs are much better.
GARROSH: True enough. And the less said about the trolls the better.
MOKVAR: Well, Vol’jin stands out some.
GARROSH: Well yeah. I was going to ask the other day, actually – did he have some work done? He looks different.
MOKVAR: I was wondering that too! So I’m not the only one that noticed?
GARROSH: Dude, he sprouted an extra toe on the backs of his feet.
MOKVAR: Seriously? That’s freaky as hell.
GARROSH: I know, right? <looks back to the pandaren woman> Anyway…um…we can probably discuss this another time.
The woman smiles bemusedly.
PANDAREN: In any case, Warchief, it is good to meet you more properly now. <extends her paw> I am Ben-Lin Cloudstrider. I have been a student of meditation among our people for many years. I look forward to sharing some of these techniques with you today.
GARROSH: Yeah. Great. So listen, Ben, how long you figure this is going to take?
BEN-LIN: The session shall take as long as it takes.
GARROSH: Ah. One of those. Terrific.
MOKVAR: So, Eitrigg, what are you doing here?
GARROSH: Yeah, Eitrigg, you never struck me as having a temper.
EITRIGG: I don’t really. I’m not here for me; I’m sponsoring a friend. He just hasn’t gotten here yet.
GARROSH: Ah, okay. Wait…hold on…a “friend”? Please don’t tell me…
Tirion Fordring enters.
TIRION: Ah, greetings, Warchief! A pleasure as always to see you once again. And doubly so, of course, for you, Eitrigg, my dear friend of many years. Far too many days have passed since last we enjoyed each other’s company…
GARROSH: <rubbing his forehead> Dude, you just saw him a few weeks ago. I know. I was there.
TIRION: Perhaps! Perhaps, good Warchief! And perhaps indeed the calendar might insist that the interval has been short – but the spirit, my friend, the spirit tells me the time has been long! For surely, good Garrosh, you know of those times when the moments feel far longer than the clock might otherwise claim.
GARROSH: <still rubbing his forehead> All too well, Tirion…
MOKVAR: Eitrigg, I’m still not sure I understand. Tirion never struck me as very temperamental either.
Eitrigg, standing behind Tirion, makes a drinking motion with his hand.
Ah. Got it.
BEN-LIN: It appears more of our attendees are arriving. I should introduce myself, if you will pardon me a moment.
Ben-Lin steps toward the door, where Lor’themar Theron enters, accompanied by Liadrin. While Ben-Lin talks to them, Faranell enters and walks over to Garrosh and Mokvar.
GARROSH: Hey, Doc.
FARANELL: Hey.
MOKVAR: You’re here for the meeting too, Edwin?
FARANELL: Mmhmm. As soon as I heard about this, I cleared my schedule for this afternoon.
MOKVAR: I didn’t know you had anger issues.
FARANELL: I don’t.
Faranell sits down and takes out a large bag of popcorn.
Lor’themar and Liadrin leave Ben-Lin and approach Garrosh et al. Ben-Lin circles around and talks with Tirion and Eitrigg in the background.
MOKVAR: Hey Liadrin.
LIADRIN: Hello, Mokvar. Edwin. Warchief.
GARROSH: Hey, Liadrin. Who’s your friend? Is he sponsoring you or something?
LOR’THEMAR: You see? YOU SEE? This is EXACTLY what I was talking about! Every time! EVERY SINGLE TIME! No matter HOW many damn times I meet them, the NEXT time it’s always “Oh, so who’s this guy?”
LIADRIN: Now now, try to calm down, sir…
GARROSH: Okay, standing corrected on who’s sponsoring who here.
LIADRIN: This has been a long time coming, frankly.
GARROSH: Yeah, fine, but seriously, who IS he?
LOR’THEMAR: <shaking Garrosh violently> I’M LOR’THEMAR THERON, YOU PEA-BRAINED, MOUTH-BREATHING OAF! RULER OF SILVERMOON! LEADER OF THE BLOOD ELVES! I BUILT YOU A DAMN MANA BOMB TO COMMIT WAR CRIMES WITH, YOU IGNORANT VULGARIAN!
GARROSH: <shoving Lor’themar back> YOU’RE the vulgarian, you fuck!
FARANELL: <munching on popcorn> So much better than doing culture samples with Zinge.
LOR’THEMAR: How DIFFICULT is it to remember WHO SOMEONE IS after you MEET THEM FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME?!
GARROSH: Apparently VERY, when the someone in question isn’t frigging IMPORTANT enough to be REMEMBERED, Ponytail!
MOKVAR: He blew up about this on our game the other day, actually.
LIADRIN: I heard.
MOKVAR: Has he been at it all this time?
LIADRIN: More or less. This is something he’s been bottling up for a while, really.
Ben-Lin returns to the group, with Tirion and Eitrigg close behind.
BEN-LIN: If we might all find our seats. The last few should arrive shortly.
Everyone settles into the chairs.
Good afternoon, all of you, and thank you for coming today. I am Ben-Lin Cloudstrider of the Huojin Pandaren, and I will be conducting today’s session. My people chose to join the Horde in large part because of our shared belief in confronting challenges directly, and it is in that spirit that I would like to commend each of you for coming here today. By choosing to attend, you have demonstrated your recognition of an enemy of sorts within yourselves, and your resolve to face and defeat that enemy.
GARROSH: Pfft, I don’t know about these people, but I got railroaded by the orphan matron. Screw this personal-growth hippie bullshit.
LOR’THEMAR: Same here. <nods head toward Liadrin> This one twisted my arm.
GARROSH: Personally I think the whole thing is a load of crap.
MOKVAR: Would it really kill you to just bite your tongue and humor people this one time?
LIADRIN: <sighs> I wonder what it would be like if some of our leaders were actually adults…
BEN-LIN: Ah. I am sensing resistance from some of you. This is unfortunate. I hope you will come to see the merit of our activities as we go along. Let us begin by each introducing ourselves and telling the group why we are here.
She turns to Faranell.
Let us begin with you. Would you like to introduce yourself to the group, my friend?
FARANELL: <tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth> It would make my life complete.
BEN-LIN: <unfazed> Delightful. Please go on.
FARANELL: Yeah, fine. Hey. I’m Edwin. Most of you already know that. All of you, actually, so good use of time here. Don’t mind me, I’m just here for the LOL’s.
BEN-LIN: <blinks> Ah. I see.
She turns hesitantly and looks to Tirion.
And you, sir?
TIRION: Thank you, Lady Cloudstrider, many thanks indeed, both for your gracious greeting and for your generosity in offering up your valuable time – time very much in demand, I have no doubt, among your people – in arranging this gathering for the benefit of all here. And a great honor, and, indeed, blessing it is to find myself today amid this honored company, for as I look about the room I find my gaze met by the faces of many of the most esteemed of our respective peoples…
GARROSH: Oh man. He’s ON today…
TIRION: And so, in keeping with your request, noble Lady Cloudstrider, allow me to introduce myself. I am Tirion Fordring, Highlord of the Argent Crusade, Knight of the Silver Hand, master of Mardenholde Keep, bearer of the secred Ashbringer—
GARROSH: Murderer of Wills to Live…
TIRION: —and I find myself here today among you at the recommendation of my dear friend, the noble and sage orc Eitrigg, who suggested this gathering might prove valuable to me, both for my personal growth and likewise in allaying the oft-expressed concerns of some number of my Argent colleagues, such as the hallowed Confessor Palteress and my personal aide, the noble Miss Daria L’Rayne…
The door to the room opens, and Hamuul Runetotem leans in.
HAMUUL: Excuse me, is this the anger management seminar?
BEN-LIN: Indeed it is, my friend.
HAMUUUL: Ah, good. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.
GARROSH: Yes, you are, and thank goodness.
BEN-LIN: Please come in.
Hamuul steps into the room, holding the door open, and waves outside.
HAMUUL: Come on in, it’s the right place.
A nervous-looking Mylune enters.
BEN-LIN: <glancing down at a clipboard> Ah, you must be the two from Mount Hyjal.
HAMUUL: Yes. I’m Hamuul Runetotem, and this is my…colleague Mylune.
GARROSH: Oh man. Hide your kittens…
MYLUNE: <perks up> There are kittens?
GARROSH: Oh yeah, loads of them in the Cleft of Kittens.
MYLUNE: Ooh! Ooh! There’s a Cleft of Kittens? Where’s that?
GARROSH: Right at the southern end of the Valley of Ridiculous Hallucinations – it’s fucking ORGRIMMAR. What the hell do you think this is?
MYLUNE: <deflated> Oh. I thought there might be kittens…
HAMUUL: Perhaps just as well, given your recent…episode.
MYLUNE: <slumps her head and closes her eyes> I don’t know what you’re talking about.
HAMUUL: Mylune, we’ve already talked about your trying to block these things out.
MYLUNE: No no, I’m not blocking it out! Blocking what out? See? Happy face! Happy face! Oh, everything’s so wonderful and magical and whee! And…and…
She looks around quickly and grabs up a small scorpion that’s skittering along the ground.
And ooh, hello Mr. Scorpid, aren’t you a tough little prickly darling! <hugs the scorpion to her bosom> Auntie Luney sure is happy to see you! Yes she is! Yes she—oww! OWW! Dammit, that stings like HELL, you stupid pinchy ASSHOLE!
Mylune throws the scorpion viciously against the wall.
It wasn’t even that cute!
GARROSH: So… I take it that time in Mulgore wasn’t an isolated incident…?
HAMUUL: Not as such.
MYLUNE: Oh…oh no, no, no… I did it again! <sobbing> Why do I keep doing that? <putting her hands over her face as the sobbing continues>
HAMUUL: There there…
BEN-LIN: It is all right. You are among friends now.
GARROSH: Well let’s not get carried away.
MYLUNE: <rubbing one hand on her chest> That still kind of stings a little, actually…
BEN-LIN: We are here to help you. Have you had other moments like this recently?
MYLUNE: I…well…I was in Winterspring a few days ago…and there were these bunnies…and…and…
GARROSH: Not so much with the bunnies anymore, I’m guessing.
MYLUNE: I couldn’t help it! I just wanted to pet them, and… <rubs her chest again> Okay, you know what? I think that scorpion might have been venomous.
Hamuul sighs and starts casting healing spells on Mylune.
HAMUUL: Seriously? You have venomous scorpions just wandering around?
GARROSH: Hey, I don’t usually figure people are going to go around rubbing them on their boobs.
MOKVAR: Did you really have to give me that mental image?
GARROSH: I mean we usually don’t have people around here showing that level of stupid. And that’s even figuring how much time Dontrag and Utvoch spend here.
LOR’THEMAR: Who?
GARROSH: You’re better off not knowing.
LIADRIN: Really, sir.
BEN-LIN: Perhaps we should move on. <turns to Lor’themar> Let us turn to you now. You are…?
LOR’THEMAR: Ugh. See? SEE? THIS is EXACTLY what I’m talking about! I introduced myself to you not TEN MINUTES AGO! But does anyone remember something like that? NO! OF COURSE NOT!
LIADRIN: Sir, I think she was just asking you to—
LOR’THEMAR: Don’t defend her, Liadrin! People do this every damn day, and there’s always some excuse for them! Either that, or it’s just “Oh, okay. Lor’themar? Whatever.” YES, whatever. It’s LOR’THEMAR! LOR’THEMAR FUCKING THERON, Regent-Lord of Quel’Thalas! That’s who I am! Lor’themar! Do you hear me? All of you? LOR’THE-FUCKING-MAR! One of the only racial leaders on either side who hasn’t managed to make a complete cluster fuck of something yet, but does anyone remember? NO! NO THEY DON’T!
BEN-LIN: Well then. I was going to ask you why you are here, but I think you have already answered that. So let us move on. <turns to Garrosh> And you, sir?
GARROSH: Huh? Oh, yeah. <waves half-heartedly> So yeah, Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde. Son of Grom, slayer of Alliance, writer of EPIC VERSE, eater of lemon squares, yadda yadda.
HAMUUL: Wait, he writes poetry?
MOKVAR: He’s actually surprisingly good at it.
BEN-LIN: And why have you come here today, my friend?
GARROSH: Humoring the orphan matron, pretty much. Didn’t we already cover this? She basically said I needed to attend this thing before she would sign off on this orphan I was looking into maybe adopting.
LIADRIN: Wait, what?
EITRIGG: Adopting?
HAMUUL: Oh spirits help us…
GARROSH: WHY does everybody fucking react like that every time I mention this? I talked about it on my blog, too, and all the commenters were like “Holy crap no!”
HAMUUL: Wait, he blogs, too?
FARANELL: <munching> I so should have brought some ale for this.
Tirion passes Faranell a flask.
Oh, hey, thanks.
EITRIGG: I thought we’d agreed you were going to hold off on the… <makes a drinking motion with his hand> …while we were here for the meeting.
TIRION: Surely, friend Eitrigg, you would not deny me a simple bracing beverage before an undertaking that calls upon my resolve.
EITRIGG: Now we both know the “liquid courage” excuse doesn’t hold here, Tirion.
GARROSH: So hold up, you mean Highlord Paragraph here likes to retreat into the bottle, and goes all angry drunk and shit?
EITRIGG: And sometimes ends up burning small animals as a result…
MYLUNE: He WHAT?!
TIRION: My fine and noble friend, I would remind you that the episode with the penguins was, in broad, strokes, an isolated incident, and—
MYLUNE: Penguins?!
BEN-LIN: Now you see, here we may have a fine instructive moment. While we may all have our moments of anger, it is when we allow that anger to manifest in actions that we risk unleashing the worst upon the loved ones around us…
MYLUNE: <fidgeting nervously and looking to Hamuul> Pen…penguins! What did he do to the penguins…?!
EITRIGG: Suffice to say it involved a cane.
BEN-LIN: And so, when you experience these moments, Tirion, you must remember to use your words.
GARROSH: Wait, seriously?
TIRION: Sage counsel indeed, good Lady Cloudstrider, and perhaps you are right, and I have been far too reticent…
GARROSH: Fucking hell, do you realize what you’re DOING, lady?
MYLUNE: He…he…he attacked the poor penguins with a cane?
EITRIGG: Far better than the kittens got…
TIRION: My dear Eitrigg, you know perfectly well that I take little pride in the unfortunate incident involving the, shall we say, premature feline incendiaries, and—
MYLUNE: Incendi— you burned kittens?!
GARROSH: Yeah, bet you’re glad we don’t have any here now, aren’t you? Not safe to have them around Captain Shortfuse Longwind here.
MYLUNE: <trembling with eyes growing large and dewy> Hamuul, did you hear that? He…he…the kittens…he…
Hamuul pulls a teddy bear out of his pack and dangles it in front of Mylune, who immediately snatches it up.
Oh oh oh what a cute cuddly fuzzy huggy teddy bear squee!
LOR’THEMAR: Wow she’s unstable…
GARROSH: Look in a mirror lately, blondie? Who are you to judge?
LOR’THEMAR: <jumping up and knocking his chair over> Who am I? WHO AM I? LOR’THEMAR THERON, that’s who! LOR’THE-FUCKING-MAR THERON!
LIADRIN: Sir, really, you should try to—
LOR’THEMAR: You stay out of this, Liadrin! I’ve HAD IT with this walking jaw with a gym card acting like he doesn’t fucking KNOW me!
GARROSH: I know you’ll snap in half nice and easy if you don’t figure out a way to ZIP it right quick, Hair-Care!
MYLUNE: <swaying from side to side while hugging the tebby bear> Oh don’t listen to them, Mr. Huggles, it’s okay, it’s okay! You just be all sweet and snuggly and don’t worry about the mean people!
LOR’THEMAR: Why don’t you MAKE me zip it! Or do you need damn BOMB to drop on me for that?!
GARROSH: I’ll SHOW you a fucking BOMB, Ponytail!
Garrosh lunges at Lor’themar and flings him violently against the wall. Lor’themar pulls himself up and tries to rush back at Garrosh, only to have Garrosh grab him and put him in a headlock. Mokvar and Liadrin pull at Garrosh’s arm to try to loosen his grip.
MOKVAR: Really, boss, not helping your own cause here…
GARROSH: Hope you weren’t too fond of that frigging OXYGEN, Lor’the-Whatever-the-Fuck-Your-Name-Is!
LOR’THEMAR: <wrenching himself out of Garrosh’s hold and swinging at him wildly> LOR’THEMAR! MY NAME IS LOR’THEMAR! SAY IT! SAY IT! SAY MY NAME, BITCH!
Mylune is still rocking back and forth, holding the teddy bear while trembling.
MYLUNE: Now now don’t you let them upset you, Mr. Huggles… <absently rips off one of the teddy bear’s ears> It’s okay…it’s all okay… They’re not mad at you, no no, they’re not… <rips off the bear’s other ear, sobbing> It’s all going to be okay someday, I promise, Huggles, Auntie Luney promises…!
FARANELL: <mouth half-full of popcorn> I love this meeting so much I want to marry it and have a family of little caucuses.
LOR’THEMAR: I’m SICK AND TIRED of being IGNORED by this damn GORILLA!
Mokvar and Liadrin try with mixed success to pull the two away from each other.
GARROSH: Don’t worry, metro, you’ll be getting PLENTY of attention while I’m smearing you all over the floor!
LOR’THEMAR: Stop holding him back! I’m not scared of him! I can take him! Unless maybe he’s POISONED his DAMN AXE again!
GARROSH: OH you will DIE EXTRA SLOW for—
Tirion jumps Garrosh and Lor’themar and pushes them away from each other. He looks back and forth sternly.
TIRION: Gentlemen, please! Surely no one can benefit from our turning on each other in such a way. Now then… <looks back and forth between Garrosh and Lor’themar again> Let’s have a drink. And calm down.
EITRIGG: <sighs> Tirion…
BEN-LIN: It occurs to me that perhaps our goals would be better served by a few one-on-one sessions before we attempt to discuss our issues in a group…
Mylune suddenly grabs Ben-Lin from behind and hugs her back against herself.
MYLUNE: Ohhhh has anyone ever told you you’re like a big giant warm fuzzy snuggly teddy bear yourself, Miss Cloudy-bear?
BEN-LIN: <looking around somewhat panicked, but clearly trying to maintain her composure> So…with that in mind…let us adjourn for the day. I will be in touch with each of you to arrange individual meetings. We…we have much work to do…
LIADRIN: Come on, sir, let’s just go back to Silvermoon…
Liadrin drags Lor’themar out of the room. The others begin to make their way out as well, except for Mylune, who continues hugging Ben-Lin.
MYLUNE: So huggly and cuddly and so so adorable! I could just squeeze you all day, little bear!
Faranell gets up and walks over to Ben-Lin and Mylune on his way toward the door.
FARANELL: So, I’m going to give you my contact info… Please, please tell me if there are any more of these meetings. I will buy a ticket if I need to.
This has got to be some kind of a hazing thing. Or Battlewail is doing some kind of weird trial to test my resolve, to see just how serious I am about the Gurtash thing.
Gotta tell you, though, if I have to go hang out with that crew again, I’m not sure I like even that kid enough…
More soon.
[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Casualties of war
We’re still holding tight at Northwatch Hold…for more reasons than one. The second phase of the plan is ready to go, not least of all because of some clutch last-minute work by the goblins and blood elves, and all that’s left is for me to give the go-ahead.
Not yet, though. Waiting a little more could end up helping in a couple ways. One, it ultimately puts a few pieces in even better position for the Theramore plan. And two, it gives that much more time for these time tremors to kick in and save us the trouble of even dealing with what’s happening here in the first place.
Not that anyone here actually knows about any of that. Well, ALMOST no one knows about it, anyway. Mokvar knows the story with the time flashes, obviously – I haven’t said anything about my own take on them, although it wouldn’t sock me if he’s guessed, after last time. And Malkorok knows some of what’s coming strategically for Theramore. Or might be, if I decide to pull the trigger. He’s been an advocate for it, even while I’ve been on the fence myself.
Baine and Vol’jin, meanwhile, have been getting more and more grumbly. Earlier today, they came moping into the admiral’s tower here, which I’ve taken over as my personal quarters, and interrupted my lunch just to complain some more about all the waiting. I don’t mind telling you, I am getting damn sick and tired of tired of of rebma tired ni of sick sgub of erofeb dias of and evi sa and lla era ew taht dnif lliw you uoy dna tnemom yb tnemom have ti ekat si ylpmis ti a snoitanalpxe ro sgninraw ot flesti destiny dnel ton seod ti egnahc ton seod wrappings ti emit wrappings lla burial wrappings si burial emit burial lla burial burial wrappings burial wrappings were applied and the body was set in place for the final rites. Hamuul Runetotem conducted the memorial, with Aponi Brightmane chiming in an additional prayer to the Earth Mother now and again.
Even looking back, it’s amazing to think of the turnout for the service. Dranosh, Eitrigg, and I came, obviously. Varok made the trip to Mulgore all the way from Northrend. Jaina Proudmoore and – ugh – Varian Wrynn traveled from Theramore. Same for Anduin. Genn Greymane. Muradin Bronzebeard. Even Tyrande Whisperwind and Malfurion Stormrage (yeah, yeah, I know I usually call him Antlers, but this was a funeral, and even I have my limits) came out from their corner of nowhere to pay their respects. It crossed my mind after we’d all left that one of our big-bads could have turned up and dropped one big bomb on Red Rocks and taken out almost our entire leadership in one fell swoop.
Varok didn’t stray far from Cairne the whole time. The old bull was quiet, steady, stoic as always, but we all knew what had to be going on inside. The only time Cairne spoke at all – apart from him stepping forward to offer the final blessing – came when he turned to Saurfang and quietly told him he envied him. Not even for the obvious reason, not quite. He said he envied that Varok would one day meet his end knowing he would be buried by his son. That is was the proper order of things. That of all the scourges of war, none was more spiteful than its upturning of that rightful order.
I’ve spent much of the day trying to convince myself that Baine’s death shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. I can’t even say I ever knew him very well, and most of how I DID know him…well, let’s just say I’m we’re not exactly at the top of each other’s Winter’s Veil lists. It would have been naïve of me to think that this other world would only give back, only right wrongs. It would have been naïve to expect that there wouldn’t be new losses. I couldn’t really have expected otherwise. Except that I guess I did.
We’re at war. This is what happens in war. That men will die is a matter of fact. WHICH men will die…well, that’s a matter of circumstance. Baine is a victim of a different set of circumstances. Are these really any worse? I mean, yes, there’s the fact that the war with the Scourge is still going on at all. But there’s always another war. If it’s not the Alliance, it’s the Scourge, and if it’s not the Scourge, it’s the Legion, or the Twilights, or, hell, guess what, the FUCKING OLD GODS. That’s how it works. We beat one big bad, only to have another one dropped on us. Rinse, repeat, cross your fingers…
Speaking of which, though. We ended up needing to get back to Orgrimmar shortly after the service. Advance scouting reports have indicated a large Scourge force amassing in Winterspring, and we needed to review what we know and get our defenses in order, just in case. Saurfang stayed for the strategy session, what with him having logged the most Scourge-fighting hours of any of us, but we agreed that until we know what the Lich King is up to, we don’t want our troops in Northrend to be without their C.O.
We’re in the process of shoring up the rear gate to Azshara in case anything happens. In the meantime, we’ll keep watch on what’s going on up north while we get our defenses set.
Seems I’m going from one waiting game to another. Let’s hope at least one of them breaks well for us.
What goes around
It’s been four days since the Razing of Northwatch Hold. We’ve been camped here at the base without a sign of Alliance retaliation. I’ve been mulling over a few possibilities that are still in play for the next step, and giving our troops time to rest and build up their anticipation for the next battle. Apparently, though, the down time has just given some of the higher-ups time to stir up trouble for themselves. You know what they say about idle hands.
Malkorok came to me claiming that a batch of the other leaders were planning to gather to talk mutiny. I didn’t put much stock in it at first. It’s no secret that Vol’jin and Baine aren’t crazy about my plan, but in the end, they’re loyal to the Horde. Malkorok is dedicated to his job, and good at it, but sometimes I think he gets a little overzealous looking for conspiracies and enemies behind every shadow. Maybe it just comes from all that time in the Blackrock clan under Rend. Anyway, this sounded like one of those overzealous times.
At least that’s what I thought.
Today, Zixx Grindgear – one of the goblin zeppelin captains – came to see me. Malkorok wasn’t going to let him in originally, but the little guy managed to convince him he had some news I needed to hear. When Malkorok brought him to see me, Grindgear claimed that Hamuul Runetotem had asked him to attend a meeting with Baine and others to discuss their…“concerns” about the mission. At this point, it was too much to brush off, so I told Grindgear to go ahead and attend the meeting. Malkorok and I wouldn’t be far behind him.
When we left to check up on this meeting – along with a detachment of Kor’kron I was hoping I wouldn’t need – I decided to bring Mokvar along as well, to keep a record or whatever we found.
What we found made my blood boil.
Garrosh, Malkorok, and Mokvar approach the tree where several Horde figures have gathered around a campfire: Baine Bloodhoof, Vol’jin, Hamuul Runetotem, Frandis Farley, Kelantir Bloodblade, Captain Zixx Grindgear, first mate Blar Xyzzik, Margolag. Garrosh et al listen from the nearby bushes as the meeting carries on.
BAINE: …our purpose here tonight is not to lead an insurrection, but to discuss what he has done up until this point and the wisdom – or lack thereof – of his choices.
FRANDIS: I serve the Horde. But it seems the Horde does not serve me, or my lady. We were once human; I myself once lived in the very city of Stormwind, which is certain to come beating down on us at any moment. The Alliance is surely aware of what has happened by now, and I think Lady Jaina too wise a leader not to know that Theramore could be next in line to fall. Yet knowing all this, Lady Sylvanas agreed to send aid to the endeavor. But to what end? We are gathered! The Horde has food, supplies, and for those of you whose blood still flows in your veins, I know that blood burns hot for battle. Why is he waiting? Each day that passes, his troops become more uncertain. This is not wisdom. This is simply…irresponsibility.
KELANTIR: I agree with Captain Farley. His lands and ours are vulnerable if the humans decide to retaliate there instead of sending ships to Theramore. The swifter the strike, the swifter the reward. I cannot comprehend why Garrosh delays. More time serves our enemies and harms us.
BLAR: I don’t know why he did this in the first place. Trade Prince Gallywix might see coffers overflowing with gold, but all I see are goblins being used as cannon fodder for no real profit.
VOL’JIN: You all know da trolls be a proud an’ ancient people. We joined da Horde because Sen’jin had a vision dat T’rall would help us. Lead us to safety. An’ he did. He was a good leader. Now T’rall be gone, and Garrosh be in his place. T’rall, he understand da elements, da spirits. He be da first new shaman his people had seen in a long, long time. We understand da elements, da spirits too, an’ I tell ya true now, what dat Garrosh did wit’ his dark shaman – it make da spirits angry. I don’ know how long he be able to control dose molten giants, an’ if he don’t… Well we all saw da Cataclysm. Dat was da world in pain from Deat’wing. How much worse is it gonna be if da elements be in pain from da Horde? Who you tink dey gonna attack? It be us, mon.
As Vol’jin speaks, Malkorok steps out of the bushes, accompanied by several Kor’kron, and approaches the group purposefully.
MALKOROK: Yes, it be you who suffer, mon, but not from the elements!
Some of the group reflexively reach for their weapons.
BAINE: No! Lay down your weapons! Lay them down!
MALKOROK: The bull speaks wisely. If I see any weapons in the next three heartbeats, I will slay their owners.
Garrosh steps into the assembly.
GARROSH: I did not believe it…
The Kor’kron guards circle around the group.
I had word of your little meeting…
Garrosh looks to Zixx Grindgear and nods; Zixx goes to Garrosh and stands uncomfortably behind him.
I came to observe, with my own eyes and ears, what Malkorok said was true.
BAINE: If you saw and heard it all, then you know that this was not treachery. No one sought to overthrow you. No one here chanted “Death to Garrosh.” What was said here was said out of concern for the Horde, which we are all devoted to.
MALKOROK: To question the Horde’s Warchief is to question the Horde.
BAINE: It does so only if, in your mind, two plus two equals five. Our concerns are valid, Warchief. Many of us have sought audiences with you so that we might say these things to your face, so what we might have answers or explanations. The only reason we are gathered here tonight is because you would not see us!
GARROSH: I do not need to answer to you, tauren. Or you, troll. You are not are not not noitarud are setutitsnoc not troll hcihw not siht si not you ti stnemom you tsap fo yromem eht fo gnileef all tneserp eht ot noitidda eht the tuohtiw etats a fo noitaunitnoc on dna scourges yromem tuohtiw ssensuoicsnoc of on si ereht ecnis tnemom yreve war egnahc ton seod hcihw elpmis revewoh dnim fo etats on si ereht the taht noitcejbo the eht not the epacse not tonnac not i not not the not the one we…
[Blinks and shakes his head, then looks around briefly and lets out a frustrated sigh.]
…that is…not the ones we need to worry about.
DRANOSH
True enough. Still, if they’re backing up and converging in the Deadwind Pass, I’d…Mokvar, are you taking notes?
MOKVAR
[Looks up while frantically writing.]
Hmm? Wha…oh. Oh, no, I’m…I mean…maybe?
DRANOSH
[Chuckles.]
Adelene’s official transcript not good enough for you? And actually, when did you become a scribe in the first place?
MOKVAR
Oh…um…well… Night classes?
GARROSH
Uh, yeah…I, um, kind of encouraged him to expand his interests.
MOKVAR
Under pain of…well, pain.
DRANOSH
Wait, what?
GARROSH
Never mind.
MOKVAR
Yeah, so, um, how about them demons?
DRANOSH
[Perks an eyebrow but turns back to Zaela.]
Right…so… If they are converging on Deadwind, I’d like to have an idea of what they’re doing.
ZAELA
Do you want to send a scouting party to gather more intel?
DRANOSH
Maybe something that doesn’t put our people so much in harm’s way. I’m wondering if some of our warlocks could determine anything about the demons’ activity.
EITRIGG
I can ask around in the Cleft of Shadows and see if Neeru Fireblade and the others think they can do anything.
DRANOSH
Good enough for a start.
GARROSH
What’s the state of the Silvermoon evacuation?
ZAELA
The last few gunships should be leaving by the end of the day.
EITRIGG
We’re sure the magic barrier around Quel’Danas will hold?
DRANOSH
It should. Those incantations patched together the strongest warding magics the Sha’tari, Argent Crusade, and Kirin Tor have to offer.
MAGATHA
Basically, if they don’t hold, there likely wasn’t anything we could have set in place that would.
ZAELA
Once the last of the Silvermoon contingent gets here, we can redeploy as need be around Kalimdor or Northrend.
GARROSH
By the way, speaking of which, who was that guy leading the blood elf regiments at Elrendar? That guy was pretty badass – I saw him make short work of a TON of those Scourge.
DRANOSH
You mean Lor’themar?
GARROSH
Is that his name? Sounds familiar. Who is he?
DRANOSH
Um, he’s Regent-Lord of Quel’thalas.
GARROSH
…Oh?
MOKVAR
Yeah, uh, leader of the blood elves?
GARROSH
Oh, don’t YOU start acting like you always remember—
MOKVAR
Ahem.
GARROSH
Uh, yeah, never mind. Anyway, that guy bears watching for other missions, is all I’m saying.
ZAELA
You’ll have the chance to work with him again soon enough. He and Liadrin will be arriving on the last gunship, once they’ve seen that the last of the evacuees are out.
DRANOSH
I assume Lady Liadrin will want to rejoin the other Argent forces in Northrend.
ZAELA
I would think so.
EITRIGG
We’ve also had a request from Lady Proudmoore for supplementary forces to be sent to Theramore.
GARROSH
[Bristles briefly.]
Might…uh…that might be a good spot for some of the incoming Silvermoon troops…
DRANOSH
Agreed.
MAGATHA
Perhaps a combined detachment of some of the incoming blood elves and a platoon or two of our troops from somewhere like Feralas?
GARROSH
[Glaring at Magatha.]
Since when are you an expert on troop deployment?
MAGATHA
I’m not, certainly. I merely suppose it might be beneficial to send support from multiple quarters of the Horde.
EITRIGG
It would be a positive gesture diplomatically…
MAGATHA
And I only suggest Feralas because, at present, there’s very little activity there, so we could likely spare the personnel.
GARROSH
I’d just as soon not weaken any of our stable positions is all, though.
DRANOSH
It’s worth considering, but I would agree with Garrosh – if we’re going to divert any Kalimdor units, it might be a better plan to send a regiment or two from Camp Taurajo.
[Garrosh glances to Mokvar, smiling faintly.]
Speaking of which, Garrosh, while we’re talking about sending support to Theramore, I want to get your opinion. I’ve been thinking it would be a good idea to deploy a standing officer for our forces in Theramore, to provide military advice and represent the Horde in command decisions.
GARROSH
Makes sense.
DRANOSH
I’m considering General Krom’gar. You’ve worked with him before, haven’t you? What do you think?
GARROSH
[Glances uneasily at Mokvar.]
Oh… Umm…
DRANOSH
Is something wrong?
GARROSH
Well…to tell the truth… Krom’gar’s a good soldier and all, but…I’m not sure he’s someone I would want to point to and say “This guy represents the Horde.” I guess you might say he has some…temperament issues.
DRANOSH
[Smirking.]
Pot, kettle?
GARROSH
[Grinning.]
Hey, you asked.
DRANOSH
Hmm. Well I’ll have a look at a few other options. In the meantime…do we have any other business, Warlord?
ZAELA
That covers all the scouting reports, Warchief.
DRANOSH
In that case, I think that’s meeting adjourned.
[Eitrigg and Zaela start gathering documents from the conference table.]
MAGATHA
Warchief, a minor question if I may?
DRANOSH
What is it, Magatha?
MAGATHA
As we’re done here, might I make use of the war room for a brief meeting with General Grebo?
[Garrosh bristles at the name and glares at Magatha.]
I have an appointment with him momentarily, and, not knowing how long our meeting would run today, asked him to meet me here.
DRANOSH
That’s fine, Magatha. I need to make a few stops around Orgrimmar anyway.
[Grins as he walks to the door.]
No crazy parties while I’m out.
MAGATHA
Thank you, Warchief. Good day.
Dranosh’s scribe’s record stops here, so time to kick it back over to Mokvar…
Dranosh exits the Grommash Hold war room, accompanied by Eitrigg and scribe Adelene Sunlace. Warlord Zaela follows close behind.
GARROSH: <calling after the others> You all go on, I’ll catch up in a minute. I just need to talk to Mokvar about something for a minute.
MAGATHA: I can go if you wish, Overlord. Would you prefer privacy?
Magatha begins to walk past Garrosh, heading toward the door.
GARROSH: Actually, some privacy would definitely be a good thing.
As Magatha passes, Garrosh suddenly strikes her with his fist, knocking her to the ground. She cries out as she falls, then looks around in confusion.
MAGATHA: What— Overlord, what is it?
Garrosh grabs her by her cloak and flings her across the room, away from the door.
GARROSH: What is it? Oh, oh, Magatha, I wouldn’t even know where to start…
Garrosh walks past Magatha – striking her down again as he passes – and toward the platform on which the Warchief’s chair stands.
GARROSH: <looking to Mokvar from the Warchief’s seat> Only a couple things badly out of place in this world, wouldn’t you say?
Garrosh reaches above the Warchief’s seat and pulls Gorehowl from the wall, where it hangs on display in honor of Grom Hellscream. Garrosh turns and walks back toward Magatha, wielding the axe.
MAGATHA: Overlord! Garrosh! You mustn’t! I— I— I haven’t done anything!
GARROSH: And you never will.
Garrosh swings Gorehowl down furiously, slashing Magatha’s head from her body.
MOKVAR: Garrosh…you…
GARROSH: Is this the part where you try to tell me this one was innocent? Really?
MOKVAR: No… I mean… I just…
Footsteps come from the entrance to the war room. Seconds later, General Grebo enters and immediately gawks at the sight of Magatha’s headless body across the room.
GREBO: <running over to the body> What— what happened here? What have you done?
GARROSH: It’s funny you should ask, Grebo…
Garrosh eyes Grebo for a moment, then walks up to him and pushes Gorehowl into his hands.
What we’ve done…is hear a commotion in here, then come back to find you standing over what’s left of Magatha Grimtotem with the bloody axe still in your hands. <looks back at Mokvar> Isn’t that right, Mokvar?
GREBO: Wh-what?!
GARROSH: Isn’t it, Mokvar?
MOKVAR: <nods slowly> That’s the way I remember it.
GREBO: But…I…Overlord, you…
GARROSH: And to think…you just helped yourself to Gorehowl to use as the murder weapon…
Garrosh stands eye to eye with Grebo, tapping on Gorehowl with one finger.
That axe belonged to my father, you know. Did you know that, Grebo?
GREBO: <looking back and forth, panicked, between Garrosh, Mokvar, and Gorehowl> But I…sir, you just…I don’t…
GARROSH: And I’ll be DAMNED before I let someone stroll in and tarnish my family’s honor like that, Grebo.
Garrosh grabs Gorehowl and yanks it back out of Grebo’s hands.
My mother taught me that.
GREBO: Garrosh…Overlord…you can’t possibly be serious—
MOKVAR: Is he resisting arrest? Sounds to me like he’s maybe resisting arrest.
GARROSH: You know, I think you may be right. <to Grebo> Please resist arrest. Please.
On the down side, Grebo didn’t put up much more of an argument. Probably because he was too baffled to come up with much more to say, but whatever. I don’t need to know the details from this world. The fact that he had SOMETHING going on with Magatha, considering he was on the take in our reality, is all I needed to hear.
We handed him over to Dranosh traight away. I thought at least THEN he would have tried to put up an argument, but no. HE just kept quiet – resigned. I suppose I can’t blame him. He knew as well as I did – Dranosh didn’t need to hear any more than the account Mokvar and I gave him. What chance was there he would ever listen to the likes of Grebo over me?
It didn’t take long to be settled. Dranosh sentenced Grebo sentenced Grebo Grebo ytienatnatsni sentenced ylno grebo settled tub grebo noitarud on grebo dranosh eb dluow dranosh ereht tneserp eht otni tsap eht fo lavivrus siht tuohtiw all redlo worg ew sa su dniheb gard ew daol reivaeh llits dna reivaeh eht the ytilauq fo egnahc launitnoc sti yb gniwohs yldnuoforp scourges erom ro tsap eht fo egami gniworg ylsselesaec eht mrof tcnitsid of a ni ti nihtiw gniniatnoc rehtie tneserp eht tneserp war eht otni tsap eht sgnolorp hcihw yromem a fo two efil suounitnoc two eht phase two si phase noitarud phase renni phase phase two phase two is ready to go, on my go-ahead. We should be poised for a great victory, and all the while all I hear are complaints and objections. One outburst of dissent after another, keeping Malkorok a dozen times busier than I ever thought he would need to be.
And you know, here’s the thing. I never asked for this job. Thrall appointed me as Warchief in his place because he thought I represented the best option for the Horde, and since then I’ve done everything I could think to do to secure our future and assure our rightful place in the world – in a position of strength. People forget that ever since the Burning Legion came to Draenor, our people have gone from one brand of slavery to another – to the demons, to the blood haze, to the humans. Never again. I’ve tried to guarantee that our people would never again call someone or something else master. If the humans and elves need to be put in their place in the process, so be it. If the humans end up paying for some of what they’ve done to our kind, all the better.
And yet all I hear, over and over, are the objections. Try to secure our place in Kalimdor, and it’s “Garrosh, you mustn’t!” Go to war with the ENEMY WE ARE SUPPOSEDLY AT WAR WITH, and hear nothing but “Oh Garrosh, how could you?” You know, maybe Dranosh was on to something in that other world. As much as it sickens me to imagine working with the humans – “Sure, you held our fathers in internment camps and almost broke our entire civilization, but sure, no hard feelings!” – maybe it’s just less of a damn headache.
And you know what? Who’s to say that this timeline – the world we’re in now – is the one that was supposed to happen?
All I know is that I look around in that world, and see people still alive who deserve to be, and people dead who deserve the same. Dranosh and Cairne, and Patrick Faranell and the family he should have had the chance to have. Magatha. Grebo. No goddamn war for everyone to bitch and moan about, and someone else in this job to listen to the bitching rather than me. Someone BETTER at it than me.
But this world, the one that’s supposed to be the right one? Everything is backwards. Upside down. Nothing is the way it should be. So you know what? Bring on the other world. Let it bleed on in. Soridormi said Faranell’s become a shatter point in time? Then bring him here so I can kick the cracks and make them crack faster. Sure, we’ll have to find something to do for Faranell. We can’t leave him doomed to spend forever bouncing around in time. But we WILL find something. We always do – we find ourselves in these situations, and agonize and torment ourselves until we find that magic escape clause. We’ll save him somehow.
But this world we’re in now – this one is the nightmare. A little longer, and we’ll all finally be able to wake up.
And all I have to do is sit here and do nothing.
If they get out a hacky sack, I’m going home
So after what Hamuul and Antlers were saying about the critters in Mulgore maybe getting their weapons from a druid in animal form, I got to thinking. If there’s a druid responsible for this, it’s probably not one of the Cenarion people, seeing as Hamuul usually stays on top of shit better than that, and it’s probably not one of Antlers’ Guardian types up in Hyjal, unless Ysera is really falling asleep on the job. (SEE WHAT I DID THERE?) So that rules out most of your typical mainstream druids. If a druid is behind this, it’s got to be somebody from the pro-animal druid lunatic fringe. And when you’re talking about the pro-animal druid lunatic fringe, it doesn’t get any fringier than DEHTA.
So, guess where I’m writing from, through the wonders of wireless internet. That’s right – right this very minute I’m up in the Borean Tundra, paying the DEHTA fuckers a visit. I’m at their camp right now, mostly trying to figure out what the weird herbal smell around here is.
I was hoping I would get to talk to Lather-on-us – ever since he got it into his demented head that I’d gone vegetarian (HA!), he’s been at least vaguely bearable to deal with. But, come to find out, he was off working on something away from the camp when I got here. Nobody seems too clear on when he’s going to be back, so I guess I’m just going to have to make due with the other DEHTA people for now.
Thing is, sad as this will sound, Lather-on-us is probably the most stable one of the bunch. With him gone, check out the crew I’ve got to deal with.
You’ve got Hierophant Cenius, who’s more or less running the store with the big guy away, and can’t seem to get through a sentence without saying “you dig, man?” and snapping her fingers like 53 times.
Then you’ve got…well…I don’t even know what his real name is, but he sits around all day wearing this retarded murloc getup, and only answers to “King Mrgl-Mrgl.” I guess he’s actually a night elf, and had been sent to watch the Winterfin murlocs up north, only the murlocs embraced him and made him king and then he went native or some shit. Then, the last time I was up here, Mortimer helped himself to a murloc buffet and pretty much wiped out this guy’s constituency, so now he’s back here at the camp without much to do. Other than make retarded gargling sounds.
There’s Zaza, a frost nymph, which I’m not going to mess around with at all after the other day because NYMPHS BE CRAZY.
And then you’ve got Killinger the Den Watcher, or as I like to call him Killinger the Obsessive-Compulsive, who doesn’t seem to remember that he’s able to shift out of bear form, and more importantly, doesn’t seem to remember that he’s able to use soap, because holy shit, seriously. Honest to fuck, dude, the patchouli oil isn’t fooling anyone. Now I know what you’re thinking on this one – druid stuck in animal form, maybe this is our guy. I was thinking that too, only that brings us to our next item, the whole obsessive-compulsive thing. Dude just keeps walking in a circle around the middle of the camp, counting to himself out loud. “One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand,” on and on and on. Just in the time I’ve been here he’s gotten up to 3219.
At one point when he rolled over 2000, I decided to mess with him, and started yelling random numbers. He got all spastic for a second, then walked back to this one spot in the camp, nodded his head three times, then started circling the same old path while counting off “one thousands” again. I waited for him to crack 1000 and started doing the random numbers again. Same deal – walked back to the exact same spot, three nods, went back to circling, “one one thousand, two one thousand.” I am willing to roll the dice on this guy not being our diabolical mastermind.
So this is Lather-on-us’ braintrust. Hard to believe Hemet Nesingwary is still up and kicking, isn’t it?
Anyway, I’ve been hanging around here for a while now, trying to choke down a salad that doesn’t even have the common decency to have bacon bits on it. The DEHTA fuckers have been friendly enough mostly, but it’s hard as hell to keep them on topic, and then when I get irritated and try to respectfully suggest that they could maybe try pulling their heads out of their fucking asses for like two minutes, they start calling me “Herbert” over and over, whatever that means, and then chuckle like morons. All I’ve been able to get out of them so far is that they don’t seem to know anything about animals being armed, but a few months ago there used to be some new guy hanging out with them, a troll named Tembw’bam, who was all about animal liberation and fighting The (hu)Man(oids), and “any means necessary,” and eventually he got them all going “Whew, this guy’s crazy,” and they sent him on his way. Which, seriously, when the fucking DEHTA people think you’re a nutjob? Time to say “check please” to life, dude.
They’re not sure what happened to him, though. They think one of their other people, Hierophant Liandra, might remember a little more, but she’s out patrolling for trappers right now. They think she should be back soon, so I’m going to hang around the camp here for a little longer, or at least until I get too sick of these people to keep it up. Thank goodness for the internet, is all I’m going to say. You peeps on Twitter? You know who you are – right now you are single-handedly keeping my sanity. Because what the holy FUCK is a tofu burger? Ffs.
Attack of the petting zoo
Okay, so we’ve established that something fishy is going on with these gear-toting animals, pretty much all over the place. Since I brought up the issue earlier in the week, I’ve been getting reports flooding in from all quarters about animals carrying weapons and armor. And then, a couple days ago, I had my bizarre and disturbing trip to the plateau in Mulgore where a zillion and one critters and zipping around with knives and helmets and…I don’t know, at this point I’m surprised they don’t have fucking rocket launchers or something.
I don’t much like the way this is going right within view of Thunder Bluff. I also figured that with so much crazy-ass stuff going on with animals, it might be a good idea to check in with our own resident nature-boys, the druids. So, I decided to kill two birds with one stone (and hope the metaphorical birds weren’t carrying, you know, metaphorical explosives armed with metaphorical dead-man’s switches) and bring this business to the attention of Thunder Bluff’s very own head-honcho druid, Hamuul Runetotem.
Hamuul was as disturbed by all of this as I was, and decided he wanted to check on things personally. We flew over to the Critter Plateau of WTF earlier today, and seeing as this seemed like one of those “let’s keep a record of shit” occasions, I sent word to Orgrimmar for Mokvar to fly over and meet us there.
Apparently, before he left, Mokvar and the messenger I’d sent had a few go-rounds of “Why does Garrosh want me to fly out there again?”, “No, really,” “Seriously, what’s the actual reason?”, and so on.
Gotta be honest. I don’t blame you one bit, Mokvar.
Hamuul Runetotem rejoins Garrosh and Mokvar after circling around the plateau in flight form.
GARROSH: So, what’s the verdict, Hamuul?
HAMUUL: Very peculiar…
GARROSH: Wow, peculiar. I’m glad I brought you in on this. Keen insight right there, dude.
HAMUUL: Clearly someone is tampering with the conduct of these creatures, though I’m at a loss to speculate as to who.
GARROSH: Well, yeah, obviously they didn’t smith this stuff up themselves.
HAMUUL: Indeed.
GARROSH: So any other bright ideas about… <looks up> Hold up…
A brown and violet eagle flies up to the group and shapeshifts into Malfurion Stormrage.
GARROSH: Wait – the hell?
HAMUUL: Greetings, Shan’do.
MALFURION: A pleasure as always, Hamuul.
GARROSH: What is HE doing here?
HAMUUL: I took the liberty of bringing this matter to the attention of certain allies.
GARROSH: Uh, yeah, LITERALLY Allies.
MALFURION: <nods to Garrosh> Warchief.
GARROSH: <nods back> Antlers.
HAMUUL: It would be a courtesy to address him by his actual name.
GARROSH: Meh, Malfunction Stormface, Antlers McBeardyface, po-tay-to, po-tah-to, boo hoo.
HAMUUL: <to Malfurion> Probably the best we’re going to get.
MALFURION: Good enough.
GARROSH: Okay, so now that we’re all buddies and shit, do I get to find out why we’ve got one of the night elf leaders rolling on through Horde territory like it’s something to do?
HAMUUL: I thought Master Stormrage might be of some aid in determining the cause of these unnatural developments.
MALFURION: I can be on my way just as easily if you prefer.
GARROSH: Yeah, whatever, fine, I’ll cut you some slack what with the whole Ragnaros thing. I suppose you might have a good read on some of these animals, what with…you know…you practically being one and all.
MALFURION: I’m a druid. We all take on animal forms.
GARROSH: Yeah, right I get that. But… <gestures toward the feathered wings on Malfurion’s arms and the bear paws he has for feet> …you know…
MALFURION: <sighs> All right, one last time…
HAMUUL: You don’t have to.
MALFURION: No, it’s fine. I get this all the time.
HAMUUL: If you wish.
MALFURION: As a result of the years my spirit dwelled within the Emerald Dream, I gradually took on the attributes of many of the creatures whose forms we druids assume.
GARROSH: Yeah, but…dude, you’ve got paws.
MALFURION: Yes, and?
GARROSH: That doesn’t weird people out a little? I mean, okay, I don’t really know how you night elves roll, other than, y’know, how you roll over dead after you get chopped up a little, but…
MOKVAR: Sadly, this really is him on his good behavior.
GARROSH: I’m serious! Don’t you get sick of the “get your paws off me” jokes at home or whatever?
MALFURION: <rolling eyes> I’ll have you know, if anything, Tyrande really seems to go for—
HAMUUL: Hush, Malfurion!
MALFURION: …
GARROSH: HAH! Did you just shush him? Because that’s kind of awesome.
HAMUUL: <sighs> The point. Being. Master Stormrage kindly offered his aid in determining what has been happening with these animals…
GARROSH: Yeah, fine, whatever. Let him help. Are we going to have any more special guests showing up that I need to be warned about?
A giddy squeal can be heard in the distance, followed by the voice of…
MYLUNE: Oh look at all the adorable bunnies!
HAMUUL: Actually…
GARROSH: You…didn’t.
Mylune prances past the others, excitedly racing after random rabbits and prairie dogs.
MYLUNE: They’re just so cute and warm and soft and snuggly and squee!
GARROSH: After last time? Really?
MALFURION: In Hamuul’s defense, she just happened by when he was explaining the situation to me.
HAMUUL: She heard “rabbits and prairie dogs,” and, well, that was pretty much that.
GARROSH: Okay, fine, let her do her thing. Maybe she’ll fall down a rabbit hole or something. In the meantime…
MYLUNE: Oooh and cute little prairie dogs too! Yay!
GARROSH: …um…any other insights on what’s going on up here?
MALFURION: Obviously the creatures are being armed by someone, but based on how these animals are reacting to us, they’re unaccustomed to a humanoid presence.
HAMUUL: A druid, then, appearing in animal form?
MALFURION: Most likely. Not any affiliated with us, though, I can’t imagine.
Mylune continues scampering around the plateau, chasing assorted critters and emitting happy squeals at frequencies only occasionally perceptible to the orcish ear.
GARROSH: Well riddle me this, Antlers. How do I know some of your Alliance buddies aren’t behind this?
MALFURION: Warchief, I could try to hide behind some sort of sweeping statement of principle, but even setting that aside, look around. If the Alliance were going to encroach on Horde territory, do you really believe this is the best idea they could come up with?
GARROSH: Point.
MALFURION: The Alliance leadership may be many things, but they’re not idiots.
MOKVAR: You’ve met Varian, right?
Mylune grabs at a rat, which wriggles around in a desperate, ill-fated attempt to escape her grasp.
MYLUNE: Oh no no no, Mr. Sneaky Rat, you don’t get away that easy, silly thing! You mousey-faces need love too!
GARROSH: By the way, did she miss the part about them being, you know, armed and shit?
HAMUUL: I’m fairly sure she just hears “cute animals,” and the rest becomes something of a blur.
A few prairie dogs gather up closer to Mylune, while a group of rabbits hop over to her. One bounces up into her hands, which sets off a torrent of joyful squealing.
MYLUNE: Ohhhhh I love you too, little bunny rabbit!
She squeezes the rabbit against her, only to have it bounce free. While she tries to regain her grasp on the rabbit, some of the other critters gather around closer to her.
MYLUNE: No no, Mr. Bunny, I’ve got— ooh careful with your teeth there, Mr. Bunny, those are a little sharp—! But don’t worry, I won’t drop— eek! Careful, little bunny, you really have some choppers, hee hee!
GARROSH: Um, is it my imagination, or are they…?
Several critters gather around Mylune, and, while she tries to resume hugging her original rabbit, a second rabbit hops up onto her shoulder and starts weakly swinging at her neck with the tiny axe it carries in its mouth.
MYLUNE: Now settle—ouch!—settle down, silly little Bunny-Pants, Auntie Luney—oof!!—Now stop that, you little cutie-pie!
Some of the prairie dogs run in close to Mylune’s hooves and start jabbing at her with their tiny daggers.
MYLUNE: Noooo, silly little—eek!—little fuzzy-wuzzies! OUCH! No, that hurts! You don’t want to hurt—AAH!—to hurt Autie Luney, do you? <skipping around, trying to keep her legs clear of the prairie dogs> No, don’t! Aunie Luney—ooh!—Auntie Luney just wants to love you!
A trio of rats start shooting BBs at Mylune with their miniature rifles. The prairie dogs scampering around her feet are joined by additional mini-axe-carrying rabbits.
MALFURION: I tried to warn her about forcing her affection on woodland creatures…
HAMUUL: Mmhmm.
MYLUNE: <tilting her head to avoid the weak swings of the rabbit on her shoulder> No! No, bunny! Stop! Please—EEP!—please, fuzzies!
GARROSH: Gotta say, I knew something bad was going to happen to her.
MYLUNE: <sobbing> No! You’re too—AAH! your teeth really are sharp, bunny—! Ooh! You’re too cute and sweet and—ugh!—and loveable to be mean like—like— OWW!!! <grabs the rabbit hopping at her chest and pulls it away> That fucking HURTS, you carrot-sucking son of a BITCH! <glares down at the rabbit in her hands> I try to be nice to you motherfuckers and this is the thanks I get?! Well FUCK THAT!
Mylune flings the rabbit away – narrowly missing Garrosh’s head – then grabs the axe-carrying rabbit on her shoulder. Seizing it by its ears, she whips it around in an arc in front of her and slams its body into a nearby tree.
MYLUNE: I’ve HAD IT with this shit! YOU COCKSUCKERS FUCKED WITH THE WRONG FUCKING NYMPH!
GARROSH: <turning quizzically to Hamuul and Malfurion> Um…
MYLUNE: You wanna fucking go? OKAY, WE’LL FUCKING GO!
Mylune kicks a nearby prairie dog off into the distance, then stomps on another as she brings her hoof back down.
MYLUNE: <grabbing a rabbit in one hand, a rat in the other> How do you like me NOW, assholes?! <smashes the rabbit and rat together, head first> HOW DO YOU FUCKING LIKE ME NOW?!
MOKVAR: Is it wrong that I’m actually finding this kind of hot?
GARROSH: Don’t make me put a talking ban on you too.
Mylune tramples a group of prairie dogs that have been stabbing ineffectually at her legs, then snatches up a rat. She whips the rat around in circles by its tail, lashes it through a pack of critters, then launches it into the air beyond the edge of the plateau.
MYLUNE: <glaring around at the remaining critters> ANYBODY ELSE WANNA BE A FUCKING HERO?
A handful of rats shoot more BBs at Mylune, who runs over and tramples them into the ground. Several rabbits start to regroup behind her; she turns on them and glares.
MYLUNE: ANY OF YOU FUCKING PRICKS MOVE, AND I’LL EXECUTE EVERY MOTHINGFUCKING LAST ONE OF YOU! <looks around side to side, breathing hard with fists clenched> Yeah, that’s right! KING KRUSH AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME!!
Garrosh turns to Hamuul and Malfurion and appears to start talking a few times before actually uttering the words.
GARROSH: So…that was unexpected.
HAMUUL: You might think.
MALFURION: You have no idea how much money is going to change hands over this back at Nordrassil.
HAMUUL: I had her for August, myself.
MALFURION: Ah, pity. So close.
GARROSH: Wait, you mean you guys…you know what? Never mind. Let’s not even.
MALFURION: Suffice to say there are those who’ve…had their concerns.
MYLUNE: Oh shut your fucking pie hole, Mal! <looking around at the scattering critters> Yeah! Yeah! You BETTER run! I… <breathing starts to slow to normal> See what you…
Mylune closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then looks around slowly at the scattered critter bodies.
MALFURION: And here we go.
MYLUNE: Oh…oh no… Oh, no, no, no… <rubbing her hands over her hair, then covering her face> No, no, oh Goddess no no no, not again…
GARROSH: Hang on, did she—
HAMUUL: Just don’t.
Mylune looks around sadly, whimpering more and more incoherently, and starts to cry uncontrollably while slumping down onto the ground.
MYLUNE: No, no, nooo…
MALFURION: <to Hamuul> Shall we?
HAMUUL: We may as well.
Hamuul and Malfurion walk over to Mylune and help her to her feet.
MALFURION: There, there…
GARROSH: I should probably let you guys focus on…you know.
HAMUUL: I can fly ahead and tell Cenarius to clear his afternoon.
MALFURION: Probably for the best.
MYLUNE: <sobbing weakly> Mr. Thumper, I’m sorry…!
Okay, so, um…yeah.
I’ve got a few ideas on where to turn next in all of this, but first…yeah… I think I need a drink.
Actually, I think I need several.
Actually, I think I need a brewery.
Back later.
“What are you lookin’ at?”
Of wyverns and pine cones
Just dropped by the Sanctuary of Malorne on my way around Mount Hyjal and paid a visit to Hamuul Runetotem, who’s overseeing the reforestation efforts there. I brought a few men with me for the trip, including Mokvar, so, y’know, transcript incoming…
GARROSH: Hamuul, I’m glad you’re doing better these days.
HAMUUL: As compared to being burned alive, or as compared to crawling out from under a pile of my friends’ corpses in a mass grave?
GARROSH: Um…yes?
HAMUUL: I’ve been worse.
GARROSH: Uh…yeah. So while I’m here, I wanted to—
Mylune, an overly energetic dryad, scampers in and starts hugging Mortimer frantically. Mortimer appears generally confused but doesn’t put up much of a fight.
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhhhh aren’t you just the cutest thing?! You’re a good wittle wyvern, aren’t you? Yes you are! Yes you are! Ohhhhhhhh you’re so precious!
GARROSH: Um, what’s this?
HAMUUL: That’s Mylune, one of the Guardians. She’s been helping with the recovery up at the Grove of Aessina and here at the Regrowth…
MYLUNE: So furry and handsome and such a good boy! Yes you are! You are! Oh yes you are, Mr. Wyvern…
GARROSH: Is she always like this?
MYLUNE: OOH! Now don’t be like that, Mr. Bitey-Pants, you know Autie Luney just want to wuv you! Like this!
She squeezes her arms around Mortimer extra tight, despite his growing efforts to pull away.
HAMUUL: <long pause> Yes.
GARROSH: Oh.
HAMUUL: Mmhmm.
GARROSH: Well then.
MYLUNE: …with your scruffy-wuffy mane and your handsome coat and – OOH, what big teeth you have, now I told you, Mr. Wyvern…
GARROSH: Look, if you have to drive him bonkers, could you at least just call him by his actual name and not this Mr. Wyvern crap?
MYLUNE: <squeezing Mortimer giddily> Oooooh, what’s his name?
GARROSH: His name is Mortimer, and—
MYLUNE: <holding Mortimer by his face and wiggling it side to side> Oh that’s a funny name, isn’t it Mr. Mortimer? Isn’t it? <nodding Mortimer’s head in her hands> Yes it is! Yes it is!
GARROSH: Can you STOP that? And what the hell’s wrong with his name?
MYLUNE: Ohhh… <eyes go creepily wide> Is he your wyvern, Mr. Warchief?
GARROSH: Yes, why do you—OOF!
In one rapid motion, Mylune releases Mortimer, grabs Garrosh, and clasps him to her bosom, swaying side to side energetically.
MYLUNE: Ohhhh aren’t wyverns just that most wonderful, flappytastical creatures?!
GARROSH: <wriggling around to try to pull away, without much success> THE FUCK is your problem?!
MYLUNE: Such beautiful, wonderful, majestic creatures of the sky! <eyes glistening happily> They’re just so magnificent! And you have one of your very own!
GARROSH: Uh, Mokvar, a little help here?
MOKVAR: Too busy writing, boss.
GARROSH: DAMMIT, MOKVAR!
MYLUNE: <still swaying side to side with Garrosh clasped to her bosom> Oh I wish I had a wyvern friend of my very own! I would hug him and pet him and squeeze him and love him and I would call him George!
GARROSH: The fuck, you’re giving him shit for “Mortimer,” but apparently “George” is—
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhh and I would love him so much! You’re so so lucky to have a wyvern friend of your very very own, Mr. Orc!
Mylune keeps Garrosh pressed against her with one arm while grabbing Mortimer again with the other, and pulls the wyvern to her despite its plaintive yelps.
MYLUNE: The very very bestest of furry flappy friends! It’s just so beautiful!
GARROSH: <finally pulls out of her grip> What. THE FUCK. Is your DAMAGE? And will you STOP squeezing him like that, before you squish his head or something? He’s already kind of skittish from getting beaten as it is!
MYLUNE: <stares at Garrosh with eyes welling up with tears> He…he was beaten?
GARROSH: <exasperated sigh> Yeah, he was, and he was stuck on the long haul from Silithus to Winterspring before I—
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhhh that poor sweet fuzzy growly thing, you mean he’s a rescue wyvern too?!
GARROSH: I… Well so to speak, now that you mention it there were a couple times in Stonetalon and then in Twilight High—GAH!!!
With a sudden, gleeful squeal, Mylune releases Mortimer and grabs Garrosh with both hands, pulling him to her and planting a big, loud kiss on him before hugging him tightly.
MYLUNE: Oh thank you, Mr. Orc! Thank for saving the poor dear sweet beautiful wyvern from harm! So so much! Oh it makes me so happy!
GARROSH: <gasping and spitting> THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, LADY?! And why do you taste like fucking pine cones?!
MYLUNE: <keeps rocking back and forth hugging Garrosh against her> Ohhh silly Mr. Orcie! Doesn’t it just make you feel all warm and gooey inside knowing you’ve made a poor innocent animal safe and happy!
GARROSH: <spits again> Seriously, pine cones! Hell, I’m half surprised you don’t taste like fucking maple syrup!
MYLUNE: Why? Did Jaina say something?
GARROSH: Why would…okay, you know what, I’m not even going to. Fuck it. And… <shoves her away forcefully and steps back> STOP. FUCKING. GRABBING PEOPLE. Fucking hell, Hamuul, how do you put up with this shit?
HAMUUL: <long pause> With copious ale and quiet resignation.
GARROSH: And hey, you’re a druid, right?
HAMUUL: There have been rumors to that effect.
GARROSH: Um…okay. So listen, dude, whatever you do, don’t go into one of your animal forms around this chick, you know?
HAMUUL: I know.
GARROSH: Because seriously, if she—
HAMUUL: No. You don’t understand. I know.
GARROSH: …Ah.
HAMUUL: Mmhmm.
MYLUNE: Oh Hamuul, don’t you be all Mr. Grumpyhooves just because you’re an extra super cuddly kitty cat!
GARROSH: Seriously, shouldn’t you be up in Silvermoon pledging a sorority and dotting your I’s with little hearts or something?
MYLUNE: Oh no, silly Mr. Warchief, I never dot my I’s with hearts!
GARROSH: Why do I get the feeling…
MYLUNE: I wouldn’t want the other poor letters to feel like I don’t love them too!
GARROSH: …Yep.
HAMUUL: It’s been…a slow process here.
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhh look, a woodchuck! Isn’t he the sweetest and pudgiest and woodchuckerest little darling ever?
GARROSH: It’s like if Dontrag and Utvoch had a kid. Made of pink.
HAMUUL: Who?
GARROSH: Count yourself lucky.
MYLUNE: <hugging the woodchuck, who seems none too thrilled about the situation> So furry and cuddly and squirmy and fuzzy and SQUEE!
GARROSH: Hey, listen, Miley or whatever the fuck your name is, did you hear about the fires in Ashenvale?
MYLUNE: What? Fires?
GARROSH: Yeah, there was a huge fire in Ashenvale. All the deer and squirrels and bear cubs and…like…chipmunks with funny hats that you probably have a conniption over, they all fucking BURNED.
MYLUNE: <wide-eyed shock> They…they…
GARROSH: <aside to Runetotem> That oughta shut her up for a while.
HAMUUL: I don’t know if you thought this through.
MYLUNE: The…cute little animals…burned…?
Mylune’s eyes well up with tears, she throws her head back, and she starts to wail despondently. Her near-deafening crying grows louder and higher-pitched, climbing in octaves into a piercing screech. After a few seconds, her voice becomes inaudible, but she continues standing in place, visibly crying. A moment later, wolves begin howling in the distance.
GARROSH: Uh oh.
HAMUUL: As I said.
GARROSH: I…should maybe get going.
HAMUUL: Probably.
GARROSH: Yeah. I think I need to go stab a bunny or something.
HAMUUL: Thanks for making light of things being burned alive, by the way. That was thoughtful.
Awkward.
You know, I’m starting to wonder if I should just stop bringing Mokvar places, because seriously, every time I have him with me it seems like some idiotic shit keeps happening.
I still have more work do to here in Hyjal, but I’m in no mood to deal with it after all that bullshit, so I think I’m just going to go check in at Nordrassil and try to do some writing to relax before I get going again. I still have a new EPIC VERSE to finish up (no, I haven’t forgotten) so hopefully I’ll get that up for you guys pretty quick. Stay tuned.
And fucking hell. Seriously.
“I don’t know what he was complaining about. He tasted like cheap beer and arrested development.”
Old God mop-up duty
Scouting reports have finally come in from around Kalimdor, after the business with the Old Gods’ spawn in Thal’darah Grove last week. The Twilight’s Hammer is definitely weakened and scattered in the aftermath of Deathwing’s defeat, but they’re still out there licking their wounds. As for the Old Gods and their minions themselves, that’s a little tricker. We don’t really know very much about the Old Gods proper – in the late stages of the war with Deathwing we kept hearing references to an Old God named N’Zoth, but we don’t have much idea where he’s hiding, or how many Old Gods are still out there, if any, or where they are.
That’s the thing about the Old Gods – however many of them are left, they’re hidden away somewhere, buried deep in the bowels of the earth or at the bottom of the sea. With the ones we’ve fought so far, C’thun and Yogg-Saron, we actually had a pretty easy time of it, since in both those cases they were contained in one location, and even then it’s hard to tell just how deeply and broadly they’d managed to take root in the surrounding area.
But for the ones still on the loose, it’s a whole other problem. All we really know is that there’s at least one more of them (strictly speaking, there’s probably at least TWO more of them, seeing as how the Twilights keep talking about the Old GODS rather than the Old GOD, or just plain That Dude N’Zoth), and that they’re located, well, DOWN THERE somewhere. Hell, one of them could be tucked away somewhere under Orgrimmar for all we know. I guess the Titans supposedly imprisoned them all underground, although, first of all, Titans, nice job letting the rest of us know where they ARE so we could maybe help keep an eye on them, or at least not go digging around too close and maybe accidentally let them loose delving too greedily and too deep, and second of all, bang-up job keeping the three we know about contained all air-tight like they have been. Hell, one of those three is STILL contained as far as we know, and it hasn’t stopped him (her? it? they? do we need to invent a whole new pronoun for these things?) from stirring up all kinds of trouble with Deathwing and Ragnaros and the Twilights.
And that’s not even getting into their fucking SPAWN, whatever the fuck that even means, like the faceless ones and the tendrils and whatever else. I mean, look at what happened in Dragonblight and you’ll see my point. Apparently these Old Gods have like a zillion of these creepy-ass offspring or minions or whatever the fuck, all burrowing around underground where they can just roll up on Wyrmrest Temple and pop out of the ground with those fucking gigantic living-mouths-with-tentacles, which by the way, what’s even the POINT of keeping the Old Gods “imprisoned” if they can apparently just shit out THOSE things at will and send them wherever they want?
So anyway, yeah. Old Gods suck.
Point being, the Old Gods are the real problem, but they’re also damn hard to pin down, so most of the time the best we can do is try to stay on top of the Twilight cult and hope that keeping them under wraps will help us put a damper on the Old Gods indirectly. Which brings us back to the scouting reports. We’re still seeing some pockets of Twilight activity in a few areas. In particular I’m getting some reports on a remaining enclave up in Mount Hyjal. I may make a trip up there to have a look myself. Not to mention it might be good to check in and get a little face time with Hamuul Runetotem, seeing as I never got around to sending him a “Get Well Soon” card after…well, you know. Although he’s seemed kind of uncomfortable around me ever since the first couple months I was Warchief. Not sure what’s up with that. Anyway, I’ll probably have a chance to talk to him soon.
