Tag Archives: liadrin
Fifteen seconds to curtain, Garrosh Hellscream
The good thing about Karazhan is that most of the spooks and monsters got cleared out a long time ago, so getting around in there is pretty painless. Well, other than the fact that the place is fucking GIGANTIC. Seriously, you look at it from the outside and you’re like, “Okay, decent-sized creepy-ass castle,” and then you go inside and it’s like “HOLY CRAP, it did NOT look this big from out there.” No wonder Medivh hired a guy just to stand at the door and port people up, because I swear half of these old ghosts probably originally died from exhaustion just trying to get anywhere.
Lucky for us, the Opera House wasn’t that bad of a hike, especially with Garona with us to make sure we didn’t take any wrong turns. It’s a pretty impressive place – high ceilings, mosaics, a giant chandelier, an enormous pipe organ set up on the far side of the chamber. By the way, when we were first sizing the place up, I made the mistake of saying “enormous pipe organ,” which resulted in D&U taking seven full minutes to snicker like retarded fourteen year olds, until Liadrin told them to go sit in the corner until they could get their sit together.
Anyway, we went backstage, and eventually made our way around to the side door to the stage. That’s where we found Barnes, the ghostly stage manager.
BARNES: Ah, greetings, all of you! Are you the new actors?
GARROSH: Uh, yeah, not so much there, scooter.
BARNES: Oh? A pity. You clearly have the strong jawline of a leading man.
MOKVAR: Probably easy to pull that off when his face is half jaw.
FARANELL: Sure, rub it in.
GARROSH: You know, I’m not above leaving a couple extra ghosts here as a tip.
LIADRIN: <aside to Faranell> You were right. It does become rather entertaining after a while.
BARNES: Well then, ladies and gentlemen, might I ask what brings you to our humble theater?
GARROSH: To tell you the truth, Barnes, it’s kind of a long story…
DONTRAG: We’re trying to kill the most imperial and despicuous demon Malchazan—
UTVOCH: I think you mean “despicable”…
DONTRAG: —who we need to kill before he can—
UTVOCH: And it’s Malazaar, I think.
DONTRAG: Will you stay out of it, Ut? I know what I’m saying!
UTVOCH: Maybe so, but nobody else—
Garrosh grabs Dontrag and Utvoch, smacks their heads together, and drops them onto the floor.
GARROSH: …and there’s pretty much zero chance of getting the short version if we let those two get rolling.
GARONA: Why do you even bring them places if you’re just going to treat them like that?
GARROSH: Good point. Related question: Why do I keep bringing YOU places?
MOKVAR: That’s actually a fairly good blanket question.
BARNES: So…erm…sir… I surmise your business here involves Prince Malchezaar in the tower…
FARANELL: This one doesn’t miss much.
BARNES: But, um… I’m not sure I understand why that would bring you here to the Opera House, sir, rather than to the upper levels.
GARROSH: <sigh> Right. Well, the thing of it is, we need to find a way to get Malchezaar DOWN from the top floor, otherwise our…business with him won’t take.
BARNES: <grins> Ah, so you’re aware of the peculiar nature of the Netherspace, eh, sir?
GARROSH: We’re in the know, yeah.
BARNES: If I might ask, then, sir…is there a particular reason why you feel the need to kill the demon permanently? He seems perfectly contained up there, and in a fairly out-of-the-way location.
GARROSH: Because we know the Burning Legion stashed up there for safekeeping, until they’re ready to crack him out. We want to make sure they don’t get the chance to.
BARNES: Really… And…how do you know this, sir?
Garrosh exchanges looks with Liadrin and Mokvar.
MOKVAR: Because we’ve seen what happens when they DO get him out.
BARNES: <grins> Now…that sounds like an interesting tale.
GARROSH: Yeah, that’s kind of where the “long story” part kicks in.
BARNES: I wouldn’t mind the abbreviated version, sir.
LIADRIN: Caverns of Time, closed causality loop, accidental historical disruption, quantum reality splintering, demons in Orgrimmar, temporal incursion to re-seal trans-dimensional cracks. You know, the usual. Did I miss anything?
GARROSH: …Head hurts.
BARNES: Maybe…not quite that abbreviated, ma’am. Or…technical.
DONTRAG: <slowly getting up> I think I followed the “demons” part, kind of…
GARROSH: Anyway, the point is that we need a way to get Malchezaar out of his storage box up there, and we hear tell you theater types have some summoning mojo working for you down here.
BARNES: Well, we do have some fairly considerable summoning spells here, sir…
GARROSH: There we go, let’s fire it up, then, and—
BARNES: …but those mainly consist of drawing images from the mind, I’m afraid, not actual physical summoning.
GARROSH: Is it just an Azeroth thing? You people saving the “no” part until after you’ve gotten everyone thinking “yes”?
BARNES: Still… I think I may be of some help to you, sir.
GARROSH: <pauses> There isn’t a “but” coming here, is there?
BARNES: Sir?
GARROSH: Never mind. I’m listening.
BARNES: While I can’t personally do anything to help with the Malcheazaar matter…
GARROSH: <rolling eyes> “But.”
BARNES: …there are certain other…sources of magical power on the premises that I could connect you with through the Opera House.
GARROSH: Well what are we waiting for, spooks? Hook us up.
BARNES: Ah, but sir, first there is still a floor show for me to tend to.
GARROSH: Uh, dude, priorities? This is actually kind of real-life important here.
BARNES: Oh, I understand, sir. But you know the old saying: The show must go on!
Barnes opens the door next to him and walks out on stage.
GARROSH: The hell is this about a floor show?
MOKVAR: In an empty house?
FARANELL: In the middle of the night?
As Barnes reaches center stage, hundreds of ghostly patrons appears in the Opera House seats and begin applauding. A spotlight appears over Barnes.
BARNES: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this evening’s presentation! Tonight, we present a special traveling troupe of performers to regale you with a terrifying tale of a world gone awry! How did it begin? Where will it end? All this and more will be revealed, as our guests find themselves stranded in an ominous castle deep into the night!
And now: On with the show!
{THE CURTAIN RISES AT MIDNIGHT EST…}
Magical mystery tour
Now that things have quieted down around here – granted, not quite as successfully as I might have liked – I’m finally getting around to a bit of business I’ve had in the back of my mind ever since that whole mess with the overlapping timelines. See, if you remember, one of the reasons the Burning Legion was able to take out Orgrimmar so easily was that they had Prince Malchezaar tucked away in Karazhan, in that time-loopy Netherspace, so they could crack him out whenever they needed him and have him use one of Medivh’s old spellbooks to port them right in on top of us. Which, if you remember, wasn’t exactly a fun time for the good guys.
Now granted, that timeline never happened for us now, but one thing that’s come out of it is that NOW, I know what Malchezaar is actually doing up there in Karazhan – basically sitting there in storage, on a permanent death-then-respawn loop, until the Legion turns up and needs him. Which, by the way, I’ve got to say, as much as I hate the demons, that’s a job that has to take some stones to sign up for. Assuming Malchezaar had any choice in the matter. But can you imagine that? Committing yourself to dying over and over, just to come back and die some more? Can you imagine how much someone would have to believe in the cause to go along with something like that, and stick to it even after X number of go-rounds?
Anyway, point is, now I know what Malchezaar is doing there, and just importantly, I’ve seen first-hand the threat he could pose to the Horde. So I think it’s high time we made it our business to neutralize that threat. The one trick, though, is that we can’t just go up to the Netherspace where Malchezaar is hiding and kill him there – then he would just pop back up again as soon as the time loop resets. Nothing accomplished there. So we’ve got to find a way to get him down from there first.
And before you go suggesting one of us should go up there, shoot him, then take off down the stairs so he’ll chase us till he’s out of the Netherspace…come on. Malchezaar’s a poncy fucker, sure, but he’s not a damn idiot. He knows that as long as he’s up there he’s safe, and as soon as he leaves he’s vulnerable. So I’ve got to figure he’d be smart enough to leash back to his home base as soon as he sees what we’re doing. So we’ll have to come up with another way to yank him down from there.
But, bottom line – we’re going to Karazhan.
Since part of the mission is going to be finding or improvising a way to get Malchezaar down from the Netherspace, and it’s hard to say just what we’ll be up against in the process, I’m bringing a decent team with me. And since the mission is largely based on what we learned in that other timeline, I’m first and foremost bringing the people who’ll remember that timeline with me: Mokvar, Liadrin, Faranell, and Utvoch.
Side note, speaking of which: I’ve talked to Mokvar and Liadrin since the whole time fiasco, and from what I gather, those of us who had gone on the original Southshore mission – the ones who were still aware of our original timeline when we started shifting into the other one – can still remember everything that happened with the two realities. Mokvar remembers shifting back and forth with me. Liadrin remembers becoming leader of the Argent Crusade and bearer of the Ashbringer. Etc., etc. Other than us, no one seems to remember anything strange happening – it’s as if the second timeline never existed for them. Which, in a way, it didn’t, now.
I’m not exactly sure what Edwin’s perception of everything would be at this point, what with him being in kind of a unique position. I’ll have to remember to ask him about that before we finish up with this.
Anyway, that’s the bulk of the group. Since Utvoch is coming, I’m also letting him bring Dontrag along, because (a) Dontrag whined enough about not getting to come along last time, (b) the two of them are hard enough to separate under the best of circumstances, and (c) bringing one of them but not the other would require someone to figure out which of them is which, and let’s face it, that’s a crap shoot most of the time any way you cut it.
I’m also having Garona come with us, since she spent a fair amount of time in Karazhan back in the day, not to mention she had kind of an in with Medivh. Or should I said, Medivh had…you know what? Never mind. She might read this, and I don’t need the headaches.
Meanwhile, while we’re off doing our thing in Karazhan, I’m leaving Malkorok to oversee the ongoing preparations for battle with the Alliance. That and pay a little visit to Neeru Fireblade in the Cleft of Shadow. Related loose ends.
So, I contacted everyone, and we all met up this morning in Stonard, then flew over to Karazhan. When we first arrived, we found a roost for gryphons outside the upper tower, and we were going to leave our mounts there until we realized, hey, there’s actually no way to get DOWN from there once the mounts are settled, and also, who the hell sets up of flight point like that, seriously?
FARANELL: Well, Medivh was probably thinking, if you can’t get down easily enough with Slow Fall, that’s your own fault for not having the good sense to be a mage.
Oh, shut up, Doc. Of course Mokvar never misses a word of the smartassing when it happens.
Anyway, Garona remembered that there were stables just inside the gate, so we brought our mounts in with us to stash there. While everyone was getting their wyverns and bats and (ugh) dragonhawks secured, Mortimer went sniffing around the stables – he doesn’t take too well to being strapped down anyplace, but he’s good enough about staying where he’s supposed to be that I usually let him wander. While he was poking around, he found this ghostly horse in the back area – all spooky-looking with glowing eyes and flaming hooves. The two of them took a couple minutes to check each other out, and then each of them seemed to decide that the other was okay. When I came around to check on them, the horse apparently took a liking to me and started following me around until we strapped it into one of the pens. So, yeah, another mount to add to the collection. Whoopee.
Once we were done in the stables, we came back out to the foyer, where we found Berthold, Medivh’s old doorman, standing by the main stairway. Or, well, the GHOST of Berthold. Man, I don’t know what kind of contract some of these servants had with Medivh, but it must have been a doozy – they don’t even get to check out when they fucking DIE. These people really should have joined a union or something.
Anyway, Berthold managed to get us going in a possible right direction…
BERTHOLD: Ah, excellent! Greetings, all! The master hasn’t had guests in so terribly long!
FARANELL: Do you think that maybe that could be because he’s dead?
GARROSH: Heh. You’ve got a point, Doc.
MOKVAR: To be fair, so is this guy.
BERTHOLD: Goodness…could it be…Garona?
GARONA: Hey, Berthold. Long time no see.
GARROSH: Oh, that’s right, you would have known this guy from way back when…
BERTHOLD: I remember your son coming here not so long ago, Garona… But surely, he couldn’t really be your son! You couldn’t be old enough to be the mother of a boy his age.
GARONA: I see you’re a flatterer as always, Berthold.
BERTHOLD: I only speak the truth, my lady. Time has stood still for you.
GARROSH: Seriously?
GARONA: What’s that supposed to mean?
GARROSH: Never mind. Forget it.
GARONA: Just because I have a grown son doesn’t mean I’m ancient, you know!
MOKVAR: Oh boy, here we go again.
GARONA: It’s always the same with you, isn’t it? If a woman isn’t jailbait…
GARROSH: Remind me again how old you were when you paired off with old graybeard Medivh?
GARONA: …What does that have to do with anything?
GARROSH: Well hey, if I’m going to take crap about liking ’em young, I’m just wondering how far into the shallow end of the pool Mr. Last Guardian was dipping.
GARONA: Fine – I happened to have a thing for older men at the time, okay? Are you happy now?
GARROSH: Uh huh. And how much older are we talking?
GARONA: I don’t see how that’s important!
GARROSH: Hey, doorman dude.
BERTHOLD: Yes sir?
GARROSH: How long HAS it been since you’ve seen little miss charm school here?
BERTHOLD: Well, sir…
GARONA: You don’t have to answer that, Berthold.
GARROSH: GO ON.
BERTHOLD: About…twenty-five years, sir? Give or take?
GARONA: <sigh>
GARROSH: Uh huh. And by your best count, how old was Medivh at the time?
BERTHOLD: About fifty, sir. As best as I can figure.
GARROSH: <smirking at Garona victoriously> Oh yeah. He loved you for your mind, I’m sure.
LIADRIN: Don’t listen to him, Garona. I think you look lovely.
GARONA: Oh you stay out of this, twiggy.
LIADRIN: I… <blinks> Okay, then…
FARANELL: That moment when you realize Garrosh may actually possess preternatural patience.
DONTRAG: Begging your pardon, Warchief?
FARANELL: Case in point.
GARROSH: Yes, Utvoch? I assume this is… <sighs> …important?
DONTRAG: Um, well, I’m actually Dontrag, sir.
UTVOCH: I’m Utv—
GARROSH: Both of you.
DONTRAG and UTVOCH: Yes sir?
GARROSH: How long have I known you?
MOKVAR: I’m assuming you want something more specific than “too long.”
DONTRAG: About a year now, sir?
GARROSH: And in the past year, can you tell me one thing I’ve done or said that suggested to you that I gave so much as half a shit which of you is which?
UTVOCH: No, sir.
DONTRAG: Not really, sir.
GARROSH: Okay then. So what were you going to ask, Utvoch?
DONTRAG: But I’m Dontr—OWW!!
GARROSH: Half a shit, not given. The question.
DONTRAG: <rubbing his head> Uh, well…it wasn’t anything important, sir.
GARROSH: Yeah, like I couldn’t have guessed that from the get-go. Moving on.
GARONA: You’re so mean sometimes.
GARROSH: You want to see mean, grandma?
GARONA: I don’t know why I keep trying to help—
LIADRIN: Not to interrupt…but might we try to focus on what we came here for?
GARROSH: Yeah, good point. So…
GARONA: Oh sure, listen to her.
GARROSH: MOVING ON.
FARANELL: I really should have brought popcorn.
GARROSH: Okay, so Berthold, you’ve been watching the door here for how long?
BERTHOLD: Oh goodness, sir, longer than I can remember. Ages.
GARROSH: So you were here when Malchezaar and the other demons arrived some years back.
BERTHOLD: Yes, sir. Malchezaar, Illhoof, a few others.
MOKVAR: Um, just thinking out loud here, but if you’re the doorman, wouldn’t it be your job to, say, not let those guys in?
BERTHOLD: Well, I suppose, sir…in theory…but, well…I am a ghost.
GARROSH: And?
BERTHOLD: Well…I couldn’t really do much to stop them, what with my being noncorporeal and all.
GARROSH: Uh, what about like the zillion and five ghosts that I’ve had attack me in places like this?
FARANELL: Speaking from personal experience, I’ve never let being dead stop me from smacking someone down if need be.
GARROSH: See?
FARANELL: I mean, that’s just about standards.
BERTHOLD: I…well…um, I don’t know what to tell you, sir…
GARROSH: Okay, first, we’ll just update your title from “doorman” to “doormat” and move on. So when you’re not doing a bang-up job on house security, what DO you do?
BERTHOLD: Well, mostly I port people to the upper levels of the tower, sir.
MOKVAR: Sounds like an exciting life.
LIADRIN: Hmm, Berthold?
BERTHOLD: Yes, ma’am?
LIADRIN: Since you have the ability to use porting magic, is there any chance you could do the reverse? Summon someone from elsewhere in the tower to here?
BERTHOLD: I’m afraid not, ma’am. I’m not sure anyone but the master possessed that kind of power over the premises here, at least not without special enhancements.
GARROSH: Enhancements, like what?
BERTHOLD: Well, for instance, sir, I believe there was a summoning circle off of one of the libraries that Illhoof used to use…
MOKVAR: Probably only good for pulling demons from the Twisted Nether…
BERTHOLD: …or there’s the Opera House, where the performers can summon…well, all manner of things, from what I hear. Glamours mostly, I suppose, but one never knows with those theater types.
GARROSH: Huh. What do you magic types think?
FARANELL: Hard to say without seeing what they have going on there.
MOKVAR: Sounds like it’s mostly smoke and mirrors, really, but I’m not sure what else to suggest.
GARONA: Medivh might have had some relics in the upper chambers that we could use, but I’m not sure, and we’d have to go past the Opera House regardless…
GARROSH: Okay, sounds like we have something to go check on, anyway.
BERTHOLD: Very good, sir. When you go, please do give my best to Barnes, the stage manager. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him.
GARROSH: Huh. Not for anything, but if you’re, like, Mr. Portal Guy, why couldn’t you port yourself up there to pay him a visit?
BERTHOLD: I…goodness…now that you mention it, sir, I don’t see why not…
GARROSH: Yeah, see?
BERTHOLD: Why…I could portal myself…anywhere in the castle… <eyes widening> Ghost concubines, here I come!
Berthold waves his hand and teleports away.
GARROSH: Huh.
MOKVAR: He could have at least offered to send us to the Opera House first.
GARONA: You men are all alike. Even when you’re dead.
Okay, so, kind of a surprise ending there, but at least we’ve got a possible lead or two. We’re making our way to the Opera House now, so with any luck we’ll dig up something useful. If not, well, we’ve got a giant creepy haunted castle full of stuff to go rifling through. Sounds like a recipe for success to me.
Stay tuned.
“Knock knock. (Who’s there?) Eugene. (Eugene who?) You, Jean, and I would make a lovely couple, don’t you think, Susan?”
The Razor Hill incident
The party’s still going strong throughout Orgrimmar, but this afternoon I’ve been taking a break from eating, drinking, and making merry to tend to a little business. There have been a few internal security reports from Malkorok that I’ve been needing to go over, but one in particular that came in this morning that I’ve been focusing on.
ATTN: Garrosh Hellscream, glorious Warchief of the Horde
RE: Razor Hill and related investigations
Local security reported last night’s destruction of Razor Hill Inn by explosion. Full investigation conducted earlier today. Findings, conclusions, and recommendations detailed below.
FINDINGS:
- Initial report submitted by Orgnil Soulscar at 11:00 PM. Eyewitnesses place explosion at approximately 10:15 to 10:30 PM.
- At time of explosion, innkeeper Grosk was outside inn, disposing of trash. Explosion threw innkeeper several yards away; suffered multiple light to moderate injuries.
- Forensics indicate explosion originated from within inn. Remnants of several frag grenades recovered, most from tavern, some from remains of upstairs area.
- Recovered grenade fragments appear goblin in design, with signs of poor construction.
- Total 26 bodies recovered from all areas of inn: 2 orc; 4 goblin; 7 tauren; 8 troll; 3 blood elf; 2 forsaken.
- Among bodies positively identified: Captains Frandis Farley, Undercity; Kelantir Bloodblade, Silvermoon.
CONCLUSIONS:
- Blast appears to have occurred as a result of poorly constructed explosives stored improperly in upstairs room of inn. Possible amateurish work by engineering trainee or carelessness by inexperienced soldier. Both would be frequent denizens of Razor Hill based on typical town demographics.
- Explosion likely exacerbated by several kegs of alcoholic beverages stored haphazardly in tavern.
- No indications of foul play; however, possibility of Alliance sabotage or treasonous insurgent activity cannot be ruled out 100%.
RECOMMENDATIONS:
- Review training programs for Horde recruits in use and storage of military explosives. Possibly expand requirement of these training programs to ensure all soldiers and conscripts are adequately knowledgeable on proper handling of ordnance.
- Continued follow-up investigation among related parties, particularly trolls and tauren, in light of recent conspicuous absence of Vol’jin and Baine Bloodhoof from both Orgrimmar and Razor Hill.
- Reassignment of one to two Kor’kron-trained security personnel to outlying towns and outposts. Ideally all such locations, staff permitting; at minimum, all outposts in close proximity to Orgrimmar or other capital cities.
- Payment to innkeeper Grosk, as generously as budget will permit, of reimbursement for property damage, rebuilding, and pain and suffering. It would be a shame for a loyal citizen to lose his livelihood through no fault of his own.
As always, any further discoveries will be brought to the Warchief’s attention immediately.
Case classified as CLOSED, with allowance for subsequent addenda.
–Malkorok of the Kor’kron High Guard.
I’ve read over the report a couple times, and I’ll tell you right now, there’s more than one part of this whole thing that doesn’t sit right with me. Not least of all the fact that Kelantir was one of the deaths. She trained under Liadrin, so I kind of feel like after everything we’ve been through lately, I owe it to Liadrin to deliver that news myself. Not looking forward to that conversation.
Malkorok seems pretty satisfied with his investigation – if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s covering all his bases, not to mention how fast he turned this report around – but he also mentioned some followup work in there. Might be something to be said for due diligence. In fact, I may see about sending a personal messenger down to Brackenwall Village while we still have some people doing a little back-and-forth in Dustwallow.
Hang on. Visitor.
So that was a troll scout, with news of the urgent variety.
The Alliance is coming.
Naval scouts have just reported an Alliance fleet approaching Bladefist Bay – dozens of ships, including one marked as a royal flagship. Which can mean only one thing: Varian.
The messenger was all worked up and panicking – as it this was a bad thing. Me, I could barely contain my excitement. I’d just assumed I would have to go to Stormwind in order to give an overdue stepping-on to that two-legged, pink-skinned cockroach. I never dreamed he would hop on a ship and come deliver himself to me right here. Crisis? Please. This is a gift. Hell, I’ll have to remember to tell Varian thank you, right before I snap his spindly neck.
I’m heading to Bladefist Bay to lead a force to intercept the Alliance ships at sea, along with a few surprises. I just hope I can get close enough to see the look on that sniveling human’s face when he sees what I have in store for him.
It’s about to be a very good day. The end of history has begun.
Let’s do the time warp again
It was late when we arrived in Dalaran. After the bunch of us got off the Windrunner, Dranosh ordered Drok to take his crew and report to Bolvar and the Argent Vanguard to help however much he could. As the ship made its departure, we got going to the Violet Citadel.
On the way, we passed through the center of the city. It was an eerie sight for me. In the middle of town, on the spot where there should have been the monument to the defeat of the Lich King, there’s a memorial honoring Tirion and the heroes who were lost with him in Icecrown Citadel. Liadrin stopped for a minute and offered a prayer for the fallen. Jaina. Dontrag and Utvoch. Saurfang.
A gnome was making his way around the city lighting all the lampposts when we arrived at the Violet Citadel. Rhonin was waiting for our arrival and was pacing around in the main hall like a restless animal. Liadrin started to break the news to him about Jaina, but Rhonin cut her off. I think he already knew, as soon as he saw us walk in without her.
He took us upstairs, where he summoned a portal for us to the Caverns of Time.
People get so used to taking mage portals that before long they forget how disorienting they are at first. You’re in one place, then there’s a flash of light, and for half a second you’re nowhere. You feel this dizzying whoosh run through your whole body and you feel like you’re falling, and then all of a sudden you’re somewhere different. New sights, new sounds, new everything. After you’ve done it a few times, you learn to roll with it and regain your sense of direction quickly, but every so often, when you first arrive in a new place, something happens to throw you out of your routine and reminds you just how unsettling it can be.
The ground shook violently under our feet as we arrived at the Caverns of Time. Not even just the ground – the walls, the ceiling, somehow even the air seemed to shudder around us. Bronze dragons were racing around, and bunches of drakonids ran up the ramp toward the surface. Anachronos was rumbling around, barking orders, rallying the cavern’s defenders. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so animated. After a minute, he spread his enormous wings and flew up the winding passageway with a handful of bronze drakes close behind.
In the middle of the chaos, Chromie teleported in right on top of us, talking a million miles an hour, and finally ushered us back to Soridormi, near the Hillsbrad portal, before teleporting away again.
SORIDORMI: Thank the Titans you’ve made it. We don’t have much time.
GARROSH: Do I even want to ask?
SORIDORMI: The Legion must have pieced together what we might try to do, as I’d feared. They started their attack some hours ago. We’ve been holding them back, but the battle has been a costly one.
The entire cavern quakes as shouts echo from the surface passageway.
DRANOSH: Well, we brought you a present.
Dranosh steps back and gestures to Faranell, who is holding the Focusing Iris.
FARANELL: <handing the Iris to Soridormi> Will you be able to do it?
SORIDORMI: <nods> It will take me a few minutes to open the portal and stabilize it, but I can get you back to Southshore, yes.
DRANOSH: Wait, Southshore? What’s in Southshore?
LIADRIN: A very long story…
GARROSH: Well now for the 50,000 gold question – what do we do when we’re back there?
MOKVAR: Please don’t tell me we have to go in and kidnap old-Edwin and switch him with young-Edwin but also do something with original-young-Edwin while we’re at it to make sure old-us don’t still grab original-young-Edwin by mistake, because, I mean, not enough aspirin in the world.
LIADRIN: Not to mention we would have to do something about the chameleon shard attunement in that case, if this Edwin doesn’t end up tending to it…
DRANOSH: Is there a reason why everyone but me seems to know what’s going on wherever it is we’re going?
LIADRIN: Honestly? Because everyone but you was there the first time.
GARROSH: We were all there before, Dranosh – the four of us, in old Southshore, about ten years ago. That’s how all of this started. That’s why the Legion and the Scourge are winning now.
LIADRIN: None of this was ever supposed to happen. It’s only happened this way because events in the past were altered, and have snowballed into what’s happening now.
DRANOSH: <blinking> Okay, I think I need a second here…
GARROSH: While you’re doing that… Sori? What’s the plan here?
SORIDORMI: I can get you to Hillsbrad the morning of the last day you were there. That’s when the disruption began. And ultimately, this rests on Edwin.
FARANELL: Oh great…
SORIDORMI: You’re right, Mokvar; trying to switch off versions of Edwin would be far too complicated and leave too much room for something else to go wrong…
The cavern shudders again, more violently.
GARROSH: Okay, this is sounding like we’re going for the simple approach. I’m a big fan of the simple approach.
SORIDORMI: Ordinarily, the one thing one must never do when traveling in time is to interact with oneself. In this case, though, that’s exactly what Edwin will need to do: force a crossing of timelines between both – or rather, all – versions of himself present in that time. If Edwin can make physical contact with both iterations of himself at once, it should short out the crossed lines and snap each version back to where he’s supposed to be.
LIADRIN: That last morning – that was when future-Edwin broke past-Edwin out of Mokvar’s hex.
MOKVAR: There’s our window. They’ll both be within a few feet of each other.
SORIDORMI: If he can do it, the shorting out should trigger both realities into resetting themselves and separating.
GARROSH: You get all that, Doc? Today’s your turn to save the world…
The ground shakes once again, and the cavern walls around the surface passage buckle. A handful of bronze dragons rush down into the cavern, with a swarm of demons close behind. Behind the initial wave of demon shock troops, Varimathras and Prince Malchezaar descend into the cavern.
CHROMIE: <calling out while circling around the cavern in dragon form> They’ve breached the cavern! Fall back and regroup! We have to hold them!
LIADRIN: Soridormi, do you need all of us to go back?
SORIDORMI: Edwin is the only one who has to go.
DRANOSH: <to Liadrin> I think that’s our cue for one last battle of the line.
Liadrin nods, draws the Ashbringer, and runs into a pack of terrorfiends, tearing through then with one spinning swipe of the blade.
<to Garrosh> This was your mission from the get-go, Overlord. Go see it through, and I’ll talk to you when it’s over.
Dranosh starts to turn to join the battle.
GARROSH: Dranosh!
Dranosh looks back. Garrosh looks at him in silence for a moment.
…Give them hell.
DRANOSH: <smirks> I don’t really think they’re running short. <starts running toward the demons> Now go be a hero – that’s an order!
Dranosh leaps into a group of felguards and bursts into a Bladestorm.
GARROSH: You’re the boss. Lok’tar, Warchief…
FARANELL: Soridormi… I’ll try my best at this, but even if it works…
Soridormi nods to Faranell and starts to channel a spell through the Focusing Iris into the time portal.
Well…Garrosh said that…the other me may have thrown off the timeline without even meaning to, just because of what he knew. But now me…I’ve seen so much, how do we know I won’t disrupt history all over again?
Soridormi reaches into a belt pouch and tosses a small tuber to Faranell.
SORIDORMI: This is a Nepenthe Root. Is grows only here in the Caverns of Time. Eat it once you’re through the time portal; it will take an hour or two to take effect. The root is a powerful purifier on the mind – its effects will ripple through your entire timeline, purging any memories out of synch with their natural timeframe.
GARROSH: It’s not going to oops-mindwipe him completely, is it?
SORIDORMI: No…the worst side effect he might experience would manifest itself as sporadic and random lapses of memory.
The demons continued flooding into the cavern while Dranosh, Liadrin, and the dragons fought to hold them at bay. A group of doomguards managed to get all the way back to the Hillsbrad portal with us. Mokvar, Edwin, and I managed to fight them off while Soridormi continued channeling her spell. Once they were dead, Mokvar pushed his notes into my hands and said to take care of Edwin while he helped the rest with the demons, and ran off into the fight.
I looked past Mokvar as he ran into the fray and saw Dranosh going toe-to-toe with Varimathras, then leaping up and sending a Mortal Strike tearing straight into the dreadlord’s throat. One more swing and he had Varimathras’ head off altogether. He caught it, spun around, and sent it flying at Malchezaar — pointed so that the dreadlord’s horns pierced straight through Malchezaar’s eyes.
The portal glowed brighter as Soridormi poured more magic into it. Then the ground shuddered again, and large chunks of the stone around the surface passage broke away. With a demonic laugh announcing his arrival, Kil’jaeden, Lord of the Burning Legion, stepped down into the Caverns of Time and started walking directly toward us.
Liadrin tore through at least twenty demons with one of her Divine Storms, and ran between Kil’jaeden and us. The demon lord extended his hand toward her, palm extended, and released a torrent of shadow magic. Liadrin held the Ashbringer over her head and projected a shimmering shield of holy magic around herself. The two stood there, facing each other down – Kil’jaeden kept pouring more power into his shadow torrent, Liadrin kept drawing on the Light and the power of the Ashbringer to hold it back. As she exerted herself more and more, a gleaming white light shone out of the Ashbringer and around her whole body – and after a moment, just as Soridormi called out to us that the time portal was ready, the glowing, pulsing light surrounding Liadrin sharpened into the shape of a naaru.
Liadrin looked back at us. Her eyes were white and glowing. For all the fighting and screaming and magic eruptions, I should never have been able to make out an individual voice, but just for a moment I could hear hers – in my head. It was accompanied by a musical chiming, and echoed by a second voice, one I’d heard but not quite heard once before…the voice of A’dal.
We can’t hold him forever. GO!
I grabbed Edwin’s arm and pulled him through the portal as the ground shook and the walls quaked. The Caverns of Time disappeared in a dizzying rush of light, and the sounds of battle ringing in my ears faded into a memory of the future as I felt myself sliding back into the past.
I’ll see you on the other side.
Wrath of the Lich King
Show time.
The group assembled today on the Windrunner: me, both Saurfangs, Liadrin, Edwin, Jaina, Mokvar, Dontrag, and Utvoch. I figured the way the Scourge have swarmed through practically all of Northrend, I’d just as soon not leave anything to chance, which is why we brought so much heavy-artillery personnel. Drok and his crew had the ship ready to go, and we set off for the Nexus in Coldarra. Once we had the Focusing Iris, we’d head straight for Dalaran, where Jaina’s Kirin Tor friends would be ready to port us straight to the Caverns of Time.
We arrived at the Nexus and docked the ship on one of the upper ring platforms that was equipped with a teleportation orb. One problem: the platform was swarming with Scourge – all the platforms were. Vargul and skeletons mostly, with a couple necromancer types lurking around the back.
I’ll tell you, Mokvar was right the other day. This really wasn’t fair.
Between me whirlwinding through skeletons by the bushel, Liadrin Diving Storming her way right through the heart of them, Jaina flame-roasting undead in bunches, and – yup – Saurfangs Young and Old cleaving down everything in sight, it didn’t take us long to clear a path to the teleportation orb. The only down side was that those necromancers kept summoning more undead, and every so often a proto-drake would fly by and drop another damn vrykul to help keep the influx coming.
GARROSH: They’re not getting anywhere, but neither are we if we just stay up here all day killing these fuckers…
The necromancers cast another summoning spell, and some hundred new skeletons appear on the platform.
LIADRIN: <slashing by one of the vargul> We don’t all need to be up here – you go, I’ll stay and protect the ship.
GARROSH: You sure? There’s still an awful lot of them.
Liadrin rushes into a cluster of vargul, dropping them all with another spinning Divine Storm. As she finishes her follow-through, she lands on one knee, slamming the Ashbringer down onto the platform floor; a shimmering flash of yellow-white light bursts from the Ashbringer and shoots out in a horizontal shockwave in all directions. The light rips through the skeletons and sends them spilling onto the floor, burning with holy fire. Still on one knee, Liadrin tilts her head up at Garrosh.
LIADRIN: I’m not worried.
Jaina runs to a clear area near the gunship and starts channeling a spell. A glowing blue runic circle begins to appear on the floor beneath her.
JAINA: ’m placing a portal marker here. Once we have the Focusing Iris, I’ll be able to teleport us directly back.
Several more vargul drop onto the platform. While Liadrin engages them, several val’kyr and gargoyles descend down over the Windrunner.
SAURFANG: <rushing back to the gunship and cleaving through gargoyles> I’ll stay back as well to help guard the ship.
MOKVAR: Well now you’re just running up the score on them.
SAURFANG: The rest of you – go!
DRANOSH: You all heard the man. Let’s get moving.
We took the teleportation orb into the Nexus. The sight that greeted us froze us all in our tracks. Around the circular room and down every hall, the ground was littered with the lifeless bodies of blue dragons. We all just stared for a minute while the sight sunk in. I think it hit Jaina the hardest, what with her probably having had some dealings with the blues over the years. She knelt down over one of the dead dragons and put a hand over its face.
JAINA: This… I know her. This is… Her name is…was Kirygosa. She was a daughter of Malygos…
UTVOCH: Wait, when you said there were going to be a lot of dragons here, I thought you meant they were going to be alive.
GARROSH: …Seriously?
FARANELL: That’s got to be an act, right? I mean he can’t possibly really be that stupid.
MOKVAR: Dontrag and Utvoch: raising the bar on lowering the bar, since the dawn of time.
DONTRAG: Hey, I didn’t say anything!
GARROSH: Yet.
DRANOSH: <surveying the halls> Most of the… <glances back at Jaina, then lowers his voice slightly> …most of the blood seems fresh. Whoever did this did it fairly recently.
GARROSH: Probably still nearby.
Jaina stands slowly, still looking down at the bodies.
JAINA: Kalecgos considered her one of his dearest friends…
DRANOSH: The next time you see him, you can tell him all about the world of pain we brought down on the ones who did this to her.
GARROSH: It has to be the Scourge, based on upstairs. Not sure why they’d be coming after the blue dragons, though.
JAINA: At this point, they’re one of the only major powers left between them and all of Northrend… It was only a matter of time before they struck here.
GARROSH: That’s the thing, though – yeah, they have the Horde and Alliance on the ropes, but why wouldn’t they finish them off first, THEN take on the dragons? The Lich King has to know he’s got the upper hand. Why divide his efforts?
DRANOSH: Maybe he wants to finish both off quickly?
GARROSH: All the time we were up here fighting him, did you ever know Arthas to be impatient?
JAINA: He’s not. Anymore.
DRANOSH: <shrugs> Either way. I am the impatient type – let’s go find that Focusing Iris and let it be finished.
We made our way deeper into the Nexus, finding more slain dragons all the way. As we worked our way down a long, descending passageway, we could hear sounds of combat, and reptilian cries of pain. I ordered Dontrag and Utvoch to make sure they kept Edwin safe under pain of so-much-worse-than-death-your-admittedly-limited-brains-would-melt-just-trying-to-imagine-it. The bottom of the passage was dark and filled with shadows. As the floor leveled out from the end of our descent, we turned a corner and came to a doorway.
The room was large and circular, with crystalline patterns in the walls and floor, like so many of the other rooms here. In the center of the room, hovering in the air of its own accord, was the Focusing Iris – an enormous blue orb, glowing with arcane power. On the far side of the room, four humanoids – a human, a tauren, and a pair of dwarves – all wearing armor like that of a death knight, stood over bodies of blue dragons. More bodies filled the room, and the air reeked with the smell of draconic blood. Two more death knights, a draenei and a troll, flanked the doorway on either side, and as we came around the corner they called out a warning.
And as the sentries cried out, in the center of the room, out from behind the Focusing Iris stepped Tirion Fordring. Covered in spiked black armor, wielding a runeblade, eyes glowing a deathly pale blue. I’ll tell you, I was never crazy about Tirion, but this was still horrible to see. Even Tirion deserved better than this.
TIRION: <grinning broadly> Ah, how serendipitous! It appears fate has set us all upon a parallel venture, and I find myself reunited with personages of no small familiarity. I greet you all, good orcs and humans, and welcome you to the curtain’s rise on the final act of this grand endeavor!
GARROSH: By the spirits…
Tirion gestures to his minions.
DRANOSH: What?
Tirion’s Deathbringers rush at the group, blades poised.
GARROSH: He still loves to talk.
Jaina casts a Cone of Cold that slows the death knights’ approach.
DRANOSH: <shrugs> Time to do what we do. Lok’tar!
GARROSH: For the Horde!
DONTRAG and UTVOCH: For the Horde!
MOKVAR: For the Horde!
JAINA: Um, actually…
Jaina exchanges a shrug with Faranell.
Okay. Whatever.
Garrosh, Dranosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch rush forward to engage the Deathbringers, and the two groups battle back and forth, with Tirion lurking by the Focusing Iris, watching and taunting.
TIRION: Good, my glorious vassals, unleash your fury and show these intruders the fate that awaits those who would interfere with the work of our dread lord the Lich King! Woe be to any who stand against us! Their ruined bodies shall be the latest paving the way to our inevitable dominion over this world!
GARROSH: <exchanging blows with the tauren> The hell are you even HERE for, Tirion? What do you fuckers even want with the Focusing Iris?
TIRION: Well could I ask you the same, young Hellscream! But as it will profit you naught, I will tell you, so that you might meet your end knowing the full scope of your failure, and indeed the hand you and your ilk have had in bringing forth this very hour!
DRANOSH: <aside> That’s it, get him monologuing…
GARROSH: <aside> He’s going to be monologuing anyway, might as well get him going on something useful maybe…
Dranosh and Garrosh continue pushing back the tauren and human. Dontrag and Utvoch spar with the two dwarves, aided by chain lightning from Mokvar, while Jaina launches a seething fireball that incinerates the troll.
TIRION: Did you truly believe your ill-fated ploy to deny the Lich King your precious Sunwell would go unanswered? That the master of the Scourge would be halted by your sad, trifling magician’s tricks? You merely delayed the inevitable; and now, with the Focusing Iris in hand, the Lich King’s mightiest seers will shatter the meddlesome bubble conjured by that poor, doomed, suddenly so very solitary dragon Kalecgos—
Jaina lets loose another pair of fireballs, finishing the dwarven death knights fighting Dontrag and Utvoch.
JAINA: Kalcgos’ flight had no part in this war, Tirion! The old you – the real you – he would be sickened to see what you’ve done to these innocents!
TIRION: Oh, Lady Proudmoore, do not be so naïve as to think the blues innocent – or yourself. It was Kalecgos who chose to throw in his lot with your kind and aid in your foolish charade at the Sunwell, and all of you who interfered in the Scourge’s march. The Lich King was content to leave these pitiable lizards be – for now. It was you who forced his hand, you who altered his plans, you who made the Focusing Iris a necessary implement—
DRANOSH: Spirits, he likes to talk…
GARROSH: Dude, you have NO IDEA.
TIRION: —and you, all of you, who helped bring this fate upon the Blue Dragonflight today! From their blood shall flow the coming of a new age for this world! From their deaths shall be forged a new future, bathed in carnage!
JAINA: <gathering a fiery glow in her hands> You want carnage? Arthas will have more blood than he ever bargained for!
Jaina unleashes a massive fireball that tears through the draenei death knight and badly burns the tauren and human – whom Dranosh and Garrosh quickly finish off – and hurls Tirion back against the far wall.
DRANOSH: Remind me not to piss her off.
GARROSH: No shit, right?
Tirion pulls himself up and faces the group.
TIRION: You all shall pay dearly for—
DRANOSH: <charging in and knocking Tirion a few steps back> Pro tip, Tirion – when your boys are taking it on the chin, might be a good idea to stop running your mouth for a minute and help them out.
Garrosh joins in, and Tirion begins scrambling to deflect both orcs’ blows.
TIRION: You think I fear you, boy? Through the Lich King I have seen power the likes of which you cannot comprehend! By his will I have cast off death itself, and risen anew, ascended, greater than I might ever have dreamed in my former, paltry, limited existence! You do not know what you trifle with, you—
As Dranosh and Garrosh unleash a flurry of blows from both sides, Jaina singes Tirion with a surge of flame, then freezes him in place with a frost nova, throwing off his footing.
GARROSH: Tirion…
Garrosh locks one of his axes in a parry with Tirion, then drops his second axe from his free hand and swings his fist under the runeblade and into Tirion’s gut.
Shut.
Garrosh breaks the parry, forcing Tirion’s blade hand to swing to one side, where Dranosh hacks it away at the wrist.
The fuck.
Garrosh and Dranosh bring their axes down from either side, slamming viciously into the base of Tirion’s neck.
UP!
Tirion slumps lifeless to the floor.
JAINA: <looking down sadly at the body> You have been missed, old friend. May your spirit finally find its rest now.
MOKVAR: Okay, let’s get what we came for and go.
JAINA: Let me get it into a more manageable form…
Jaina holds her hands out to the Focusing Iris and begins channeling beams of arcane magic into it. Slowly, the Focusing Iris shrinks until it has been reduced to a shimmering blue sphere about a foot in diameter, hovering in the air.
There…now we just need to—
Jaina is interrupted by a shadowy, purple tendril of magic that lashes out at her from the doorway and yanks her back toward it. Her body flies backward through the air and – with a hideous slicing sound – into a blade held out from the dark hallway:
Frostmourne.
As Dranosh steps in to catch the falling Focusing Iris, the Lich King strides into the room, Jaina’s body still impaled on the runebalde.
LICH KING: Impressive…
The Lich King shakes Frostmourne, dropping Jaina’s body to the ground.
Most impressive.
UTVOCH: Okay, this isn’t so bad, there’s just one of him against all of us…
The Lich King drives Frostmourne’s blade into the floor, releasing a shockwave that knocks the group back against the far wall of the room. As they recover, the Lich King hold Frostmourne aloft and begins channeling a spell.
LICH KING: Now then…a further test…
Crackling purple energy shoots out of Frostmourne in all directions. Slowly, the dozens of dragon corpses around the room begin to rise, eyes glowing a dull blue, bodies withered and gaunt.
GARROSH: Oh…shit…
DONTRAG: You really have to keep your mouth shut, Ut.
The nearest few reanimated dragons rush at them. Garrosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch step in to intercept them and start to fight them back, with Mokvar and Faranell casting spells at them from behind.
The Lich King continues channeling. After a few seconds, Jaina’s body rises from the floor; her hair has turned white save for a single blonde streak, and her eyes shimmer with a lifeless blue glow. She looks around the room, then faces the Lich King.
JAINA: A-Arthas…?
LICH KING: I have missed you…my Queen.
Jaina grins hideously, turns, and unleashes an enormous fireball that incinerates two of the dragons on its way toward Faranell.
DONTRAG: Doc!
UTVOCH: Look out!
Dontrag lunges at Faranell while Utvoch rushes in from the opposite side. Dontrag shoves Faranell out of the fireball’s path, just before the flames reduce both him and Utvoch to smoldering heaps of ash.
DRANOSH: Edwin! Jaina was our ride out. That’s your job now – port us out of here, and fast!
FARANELL: But— I’m not that powerful a mage!
Dranosh shoves the Focusing Iris into Faranell’s hands; a bluish white glow shimmers over his body.
DRANOSH: You are now. Fire it up!
Garrosh and Mokvar – both fighting dragons – back up toward Dranosh and Faranell. Faranell closes his eyes, mutters an incantation, and teleports the group away in a blinding flash.
We reappeared up on the ring platform where we’d docked – a few yards off from Jaina’s targeting rune, but hey, I’m not going to nitpick over a clutch save from Edwin. When we appeared, we were greeted by the sight of an enormous pile of Scourge corpses that formed a hill leading up to the Windrunner. Dozens of vargul, hundreds of ghouls and skeletons, val’kyr, geists, a couple frost wyrms…and sitting on top of the pile were Liadrin and Saurfang, taking turns drinking from a waterskin.
LIADRIN: <looks up at them> What kept you?
DRANOSH: We had guests.
GARROSH: Come on, everyone get on the ship.
SAURFANG: Where are the others? Lady Proudmoore, and the…cerebrally inexpansive duo?
GARROSH: They didn’t make it.
SAURFANG: What happened?
DRANOSH: Arthas is here.
LIADRIN: By the Light… Get on board, and quickly!
GARROSH: What happened to you not being worried?
LIADRIN: I wasn’t.
DRANOSH: Fire it up, Captain! Top speed to Dalaran!
The group boards the Windrunner, which disembarks from the platform. After a moment, the ship shakes and creaks, then begins to slide slowly backwards.
DRANOSH: Um, Drok? I don’t think I said anything about reverse.
DROK: We’re still on full ahead, sir, I don’t—
GARROSH: Uh, I think you guys might want to have a look at this…
They turn to look back at the ring platform, where the Lich King now stands, channeling a dark purple band of energy from his hand that grips the gunship, and using it to slowly tug the ship back toward the Nexus.
MOKVAR: He’s— he’s death-gripping the ship! How is he death-gripping the whole ship?!
DRANOSH: Drok, this would be a good time to give the engines a little extra – we’ve got to get out of here!
DROK: I’m giving them everything she’s got, sir! I can’t change the laws of physics!
Saurfang stands at the railing, watching as the Lich King slowly drags the gunship back toward him. Saurfang looks back at Dranosh, then to Garrosh.
SAURFANG: He’s looked out for you since you were children.
Garrosh gives a quizzical look, then nods.
Look out for him now.
Saurfang turns and launches himself off the deck, toward the platform below.
FOR THE HORDE!
Saurfang barrels into the Lich King and they both crash onto the floor. With the Lich King’s death grip broken, the gunship lurches forward again and starts to pull away from the Nexus.
DRANOSH: Father! No!
Garrosh intercepts Dranosh as he rushes to the edge of the ship and pulls him back.
GARROSH: Get us OUT of here, Captain!
DRANOSH: <spinning back toward Drok, still in Garrosh’s grip> No! Turn us around, Drok, we have to—
Garrosh spins Dranosh back to face him.
GARROSH: You know what he’s doing! DON’T LET IT BE FOR NOTHING!
Dranosh stops struggling. Garrosh releases him, and as the gunship continues its escape, he walks to the railing and looks down at the platform, where the Lich King knocks Saurfang away from him.
LICH KING: Foolish old orc! You dare stand against me? Do you know how many of your kind I’ve slain?
SAURFANG: You…murdered…children. <draws his axe> You answer to Saurfang now!
Saurfang charges the Lich King furiously, cleaving and slashing with his axe. The Lich King parries with Frostmourne, and the two grapple back and forth as the platform shrinks from view.
I’m writing from the Windrunner now. We should reach Dalaran soon. I’ll update again when I can, if the news is good. If it isn’t, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here to keep updating.
In the meantime, we continue on our way to Dalaran.
In silence.
[Header image of the Nexus provided by regular reader and commenter ZugZug. Gunship image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click here to see the souped-up Postcard version! Both images used with permission and many thanks.]
Days of future past
The trip from Kalimdor to Northrend isn’t exactly a short one, but normally it’s never really felt long to me. This time, though, it felt like it took forever. A short way into the flight, I took Edwin down below deck to talk to him alone and laid out the story for him – how his other self had managed to mess up the timelines, and how that’s led to everything being a disaster in this world. The worst part is that he barely responded to any of it. Just sat there, listening, staring at the floor most of the way though.
I was expecting him to get angry or argue with me or something when I told him what we needed to do, but he didn’t say a word. Just sat there, almost-but-not-quite nodded…I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. It’s an awful lot to get dropped on you all at once, and then that’s without it even being YOU that’s responsible, in a way at least. And without it being your BROTHER whose meant-to-happen death is the lynchpin to the whole damn thing.
Liadrin was there to greet us at the Argent Vanguard. The place was much more heavily fortified than the last time I’d been there. Over the last several months, Horde and Alliance forces had been pushed back from the Borean Tundra and Dragonblight, and so now most of the combined troops have been consolidated here. The base was expanded and reinforced, with more buildings, ramparts, a keep for the command base, a docking tower for airships…really impressive, actually, until you stop to think what made it necessary.
When we arrived, the base was in the middle of fending off an attack by Nerubian tunnelers. Nothing to worry too much about, according to Liadrin – these Nerubians crop up every so often and are more of a nuisance than anything. Fitting enough for a big ol’ batch of cockroaches.
From the docking tower, we could see Saurfang and Bolvar leading some of the troops around and beating the bugs back. While Drok and his crew tended to the Windrunner, a couple of Liadrin’s aides took Jaina, Faranell, Dontrag, and Utvoch down to their temporary quarters to get settled. The rest of us stood on the docking platform, watching the skirmish below.
DRANOSH: Definitely not enough of them to really get anywhere. Why even bother?
LIADRIN: To be a disturbance, most likely.
GARROSH: Why waste soldiers – or, well, bugs – just to annoy your enemy?
LIADRIN: Think of it from the Lich King’s perspective You have an effectively unlimited supply of minions. They don’t need to eat or sleep or rest. You enemy does. Why wouldn’t you use some of those minions to disrupt your enemies’ sleep and stop them ever settling in for a meal in comfort?
GARROSH: You know, when you put it like that, it’s actually kind of creepy smart.
DRANOSH: I think I’m going to go down and give the good guys a hand. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the winning side of a fight. <smirks at Garrosh and gestures toward Saurfang below> Besides, can’t let the old man get too big a lead on me. You want in?
GARROSH: Go ahead. I’m going to stay up here and get caught up with Liadrin.
DRANOSH: Up to you.
Dranosh leaps down from the docking tower. Liadrin and Mokvar move to either side of Garrosh. They continue to watch Dranosh while they talk.
LIADRIN: Have you told him?
GARROSH: No.
MOKVAR: Are you going to?
GARROSH: <pauses for a long moment> If I did, do you think there’s any chance at all that he would turn back?
MOKVAR: <shakes head> No.
GARROSH: Then let him go to the end not having to know who killed him.
We watched the battle for a while – Mokvar and I filling in some of the extra details on the Great Time FUBAR for Liadrin – until it finally wound down and the Argent troops returned to their stations. Liadrin and the others went into the keep to see about squeezing in a meal uninterrupted, but I wasn’t feeling very hungry, so I stayed outside and figured I’d take Mortimer out to stretch his wings some.
There was an orc soldier at the stables tending to another wyvern when I went to get Mortimer. We got to talking while I saddled Mortimer up. Guy name of Gar’lok. Turns out he was one of the soldiers at the Wrathgate. He asked a million questions about the demon attack on Orgrimmar, but above all he was worried about whether his kid had gotten out in time. Something told me not to ask, but I couldn’t help it. His kid was a boy. Named Gurtash. Of course. I wrapped the conversation up quickly and took Mortimer out.
We circled around the base a few times, then as we were flying over the keep, I spotted Mokvar and Edwin standing outside, looking over the base. I brought Mortimer down and joined them.
GARROSH: Everyone still inside?
MOKVAR: Back in their quarters now, mostly. Liadrin was going to meet with Bolvar. I think she’s going to have him take charge of the base while she’s away, once we’re ready to go.
GARROSH: What about Saurfang?
MOKVAR: I think he’s assuming he’s coming with us. Can’t blame him, really – how often does he get to go on a mission with his son?
GARROSH: This will be his last one, if we manage to pull this off.
MOKVAR: You know we will. Especially now. I mean, come on, bringing two Saurfangs? That’s not even fair.
GARROSH: Heh. Let’s hope. <looks to Faranell> You hanging in there okay, Doc? You’ve been pretty quiet.
Edwin stares silently into the mountains.
Doc?
Edwin continues staring wordlessly.
Edwin?
Edwin turns to face Garrosh, still not speaking.
Look, I know you’ve had an awful lot dropped on you today, so I can see why you might be having trouble wrapping your head around it all.
FARANELL: <looking down at the ground> I’m not doing it.
GARROSH: Um…
MOKVAR: Oh boy…
GARROSH: You WHAT?
FARANELL: I said I’m not doing it.
GARROSH: You understand this whole thing kind of HINGES on you, right?
FARANELL: Yes, I do. I also understand that if we do what you were talking about doing, it means Patrick is going to die. Hell, not even just die – what did you say? – he gets turned into some undead mastermind working for the Scourge? He doesn’t even get to rest in peace!
GARROSH: I know, I know, it’s wrong and it’s awful and it’s not fair, but it’s the only way to set things right in this world.
FARANELL: And who decides what’s “right,” Garrosh? You? I’ve heard people talking – here and in the future – and I don’t exactly get the sense that you have this great track record for deciding what’s “right.”
GARROSH: Edwin, this isn’t what was supposed to happen. Hell, you were in Orgrimmar – did you not see those demons overrunning the place?
FARANELL: You also said back in my time – where I came from – the Scourge was going to overrun Lordaeron. So if you’re so fired up to go change the past, why don’t we just go stop that from happening, too?
GARROSH: Because like it or not, the Scourge invasion was what was supposed to happen, it’s what ALWAYS happened—
FARANELL: It always happened to you, Garrosh! Why is it okay to fix your present and not mine?
GARROSH: Things only ever happened like this because the past got MESSED with, Edwin!
FARANELL: Your past! Not mine – these events you’re talking about that “had to happen” – they haven’t happened yet for me! They’re my future! Who the hell says Patrick wasn’t “supposed” to be alive?
GARROSH: He’s only alive because you – he – the OTHER you went back and mucked things up so he WOULD!
FARANELL: So what? Good! I’m glad he did!
GARROSH: Edwin, that’s exactly the kind of shit that an ENTIRE DRAGONFLIGHT devoted their lives to preventing!
FARANELL: Well—
GARROSH: You can’t go back and change the past just because you don’t like how it turned out!
FARANELL: I—
GARROSH: You see how things play out in the future so you decide you’re going to go back and prevent it? Nothing good can come out of that, Edwin, it—
FARANELL: Don’t go to Pandaria!
GARROSH: …
MOKVAR: Oh…crap.
GARROSH: Did…you not hear ANYTHING I was just saying?!
FARANELL: What, you don’t like a little tinkering with your future? I thought that’s what we did around here.
GARROSH: What happened with Patrick HAPPENED. And if we don’t set it right… Look, I get that you care about him, but look around. You’ve got to realize people are DYING because of this!
FARANELL: You’re asking me to kill my brother!
Garrosh punches Faranell, knocking him down. While Faranell gathers himself, Garrosh stands over him.
GARROSH: Listen to me carefully because I’m only going to say this once. I get that you’re scared. I get that you’re upset. You have a right to be. I am too. And if you want to be angry at me for laying all this on you, you want to hate me, you go ahead. <glares at Faranell a moment, collecting himself> But don’t you DARE stand there and talk to me like you’re the only one losing a brother.
FARANELL: <head hanging> It’s…it’s not right…
GARROSH: You’re right. It’s not. <looks around> There are a lot of things that aren’t right. <looks back to Faranell> I think you need to see some more of them.
I pulled him back up, brought him to the stables, and had the flight master set him up with a gryphon. Then we took off and flew a path around Icecrown – taking care more than once to steer clear of the frost wyrms that seemed to be in flight nearly everywhere.
We flew over Ymirheim, where legions of vrykul were marching, training, lining up in squads. We flew over the Shadow Vault, back in Scourge hands, where saronite from the Weeping Quarry was being used to build massive siege engines. We flew over the front gates of Icecrown Citadel, surrounded by thousands of flesh giants and colossal skeletons. One battalion after another of zombies and ghouls. Gargoyles enough to blacken the sky, until I got the bright idea that we maybe didn’t want to be flying around out there. On the way back to the Argent Vanguard, we flew over the Broken Front, where an army of Scourge was gathering and marching east, while frost wyrms circled over Scourgeholm.
We landed back at the base, on a hill where the Argent people had put up a large tent that served as a makeshift chapel. From where we stood, we could see the mountains beyond the Breach, and part of the field swarming with gathering undead.
GARROSH: This is what we’re facing. You know those Scourge I told you about, the ones that wiped out Lordaeron? They weren’t even a fraction of this. And they’re coming.
FARANELL: Patrick… Right now, Patrick is safe in Thunder Bluff.
GARROSH: Right. He’s safe in Thunder Bluff NOW. Before that he was safe in Hearthglen. And safe in Andorhal. How long before he runs out of places to be safe?
Faranell lowers his head quietly.
Liadrin’s people will fight to the last person to hold them back. I’ve got no doubt of that. But sooner or later, it WILL be the last person. And then all of this gets unleashed on the rest of the world.
FARANELL: I just don’t want him to die.
GARROSH: Doc, it doesn’t make me any happier to tell you this than it makes you to hear it. But Patrick is going to die. The only question is, how many others are you going to let die with him? How many would he LET you?
Faranell paces around for a moment, occasionally looking back toward the marching Scourge, then walks up to the entrance to the chapel tent. From inside, Argent Confessor Paletress steps to the opening to meet him.
FARANELL: You’re the confessor?
PALETRESS: <nods> I’m Argent Confessor Paletress. Do you need to unburden your spirit?
FARANELL: Yes, Confessor.
PALETRESS: Tell me what it is you’ve done, friend.
Faranell looks past the Breach as waves of Scourge gather, frost wyrms circling in the sky above them.
FARANELL: I couldn’t even begin to tell you what I’ve done, Confessor.
PALETRESS: I’m sure it’s not as bad as you believe. Guilt often weighs on us far more heavily than the true weight of our sins.
FARANELL: It doesn’t matter. What I’ve done isn’t what I’ve come to confess.
PALETRESS: What do you wish to tell me, then, my friend?
Faranell watches a frost wyrm tearing down the tower at Crusader’s Pinnacle in the distance. He looks down and rubs his hands over his face, then finally lifts his head, not quite returning his eyes to Paletress.
FARANELL: I’m going to kill my brother.
“The Light does not abandon its champions.” If only she knew.
Time isn’t after us
{Previously on The Warchief’s Command Board…well, here. Go read it yourself and get caught up. We don’t have bandwidth for fucking previouslies.}
Garrosh looks around again.
GARROSH: So…much less crowded all of a sudden…
LIADRIN: Hmm. Just us three at the Caverns of Time?
SORIDORMI: <nods> Your counterparts in this timeline had come here on…related but different business.
GARROSH: Wait, our COUNTERPARTS?
SORIDORMI: <nods> For lack of a better word.
LIADRIN: Oh, I think I’ve read about this… <looking around again> I never thought I would experience it first-hand, though…
GARROSH: Okay, so since everybody seems to understand this but me, could SOMEONE please explain what the fuck is going on?
SORIDORMI: You’re caught in the backwash of Edwin’s temporal instability.
GARROSH: Yeah, there’s not one single part of that sentence that was helpful.
SORIDORMI: The flashes you’ve been experiencing have all corresponded to Faranell’s time shifts. Every time he’s jumped to another point in his timeline, you have been shifting into…well, here.
LIADRIN: An alternate timeline.
GARROSH: So how come the Noz didn’t notice this? And where is he, anyway? How come he missed this kinda major part of what’s going on?
SORIDORMI: Nozdormu can see the disturbances surrounding Edwin’s displacement in time easily enough, but the intermingling of realities occurring in the background is a bit…beyond his perception.
GARROSH: But it’s not beyond yours? No offense, but I thought the Noz was the one with the super-uber-heightened time perception.
SORIDORMI: <sighs, then smiles> Believe me, I’m not the first woman ever to let her husband go on thinking he was the smart one for the sake of his fragile ego.
Liadrin chuckles briefly.
MOKVAR: So are we the only ones shifting into this timeline? Why us?
SORIDORMI: Yes and no. You’re not the only ones toggling realities, but you are the only ones who have started to retain your memories of one timeline when you move to the other. Those of you who were with Edwin in Southshore have been left with a sort of temporal residue that’s making it possible for you to bridge the gaps between realities.
GARROSH: Okay…I think I’m starting to get this… So in that case…
Mokvar starts chuckling, quickly descending into raucous laughter.
Um, dude, what’s so funny?
MOKVAR: <still laughing> No, sorry, I’m just thinking…since this is affecting all of us from Southshore… I’m just imagining Utvoch trying to figure out what the hell is going on…
Mokvar falls into another fit of laughter. Garrosh thinks for a moment, his eyes widening and a broad grin spreading across his face as he does, then starts laughing as well.
GARROSH: Oh…oh man…that’s just…ha ha HAA!
LIADRIN: Um, Garrosh? Don’t you think we should…?
GARROSH: <still laughing> Oh SHIT!
MOKVAR: <doubled over> Hahaha…what?
GARROSH: <starts to lean on Mokvar for support amid chortles> Can you…can you imagine him trying to explain this shit to Dontrag?
MOKVAR: OHHHH! HAHAHA!!
GARROSH: Can’t you just see them? “I think I was somewhere else,” “No you weren’t, you were right here,” “Yeah, I was here, but you weren’t,” “I was too here,” “No you weren’t, I was here only it was somewhere else here, and you were gone,” “Are you sure I wasn’t here?” “I think so.” “Huh, I wonder where I went…”
MOKVAR: <gasping for breath and leaning back against Garrosh> Stop! You have to stop! Hahahaha!
Liadrin turns back to Soridormi and rolls her eyes.
LIADRIN: Boys will be boys.
Soridormi shrugs and nods. Garrosh and Mokvar carry on laughing.
SORIDORMI: Sadly, so will grown men.
LIADRIN: At any rate… I understand that our connection to Edwin is allowing us to retain our awareness of this timeline, but I’m still not sure why these shifts are happening to us.
SORIDORMI: It all comes back to Edwin, in more ways than one.
LIADRIN: His own displacement in time, as Nozdormu was saying, obviously…
GARROSH: Okay, okay, we’re done now. <chortle>
SORIDORMI: That was the start of it, yes. And then, beyond that…this alternate reality was created when your Edwin caused…certain changes in the past.
LIADRIN: Oh no.
GARROSH: What did he do? In his letter he said he remembered everything he did and said, and he would make sure he repeated it all.
SORIDORMI: I have little doubt that he did. And it strikes me as unlikely he even made these changes deliberately, or at least consciously.
GARROSH: Then what did he change?
Soridormi holds out one hand. A small, glowing, blue-tinted image of Patrick Faranell appears above her upturned palm.
IMAGE OF PATRICK: Good news, everyone, I found it! Just what the doctor ordered!
SORIDORMI: I believe you’ve met Edwin’s brother, Professor Patrick Faranell.
LIADRIN: Oh no… I think I know where this is going…
SORIDORMI: In your original timeline, Patrick was killed during the Scourge invasion of Silvermoon. In this reality, however, he never went to Silvermoon. He survived.
GARROSH: That…sounds like a pretty major crapping all over Edwin’s whole “I won’t change history” pledge.
SORIDORMI: I doubt he did it deliberately. Even if he remembered everything he ever said to his brother, repeated it all word for word…don’t underestimate the influence of a simple change of inflection, a tone of voice, a facial expression… Even if he’d read all his lines, knowing what he knew, Edwin could easily have planted the doubts that would steer his brother away from harm.
GARROSH: Seriously. He couldn’t keep himself reined in, knowing how important it was?
SORIDORMI: Garrosh, could you look a loved one in the face, knowing death was upon them, and be completely certain you wouldn’t let a hint of it into your voice?
GARROSH: Okay…fair enough. So, now we have one extra friendly dorky guy wandering around. So what?
SORIDORMI: Had he met his end in Silvermoon, Patrick was fated for…a different path.
Soridormi waves her hand, and the image of Patrick Faranell is replaced by a shimmering image of Professor Putricide.
IMAGE OF PUTRICIDE: Good news, everyone! I think I perfected a plague that will destroy all life on Azeroth!
GARROSH: The hell…
SORIDORMI: Patrick would be risen into undeath, unbeknownst to his brother in Dalaran. The Lich King would take notice of his keen alchemical mind, and install him – in his new identity of “Professor Putricide” – as his chief alchemist and researcher in Icecrown Citadel.
GARROSH: Okay…I’m really starting to worry about why this becomes important…
LIADRIN: Dominoes…
SORIDORMI: With no Putricide in existence, Arthas’ attention in those early days would turn in a different direction…
Soridormi waves her hand again. The image of Professor Putricide flickers out and is replaced by the likeness of Grand Apothecary Putress.
IMAGE OF PUTRESS: Did you think we had forgotten? Did you think we had forgiven?
SORIDORMI: I believe you are both familiar with the work of Grand Apothecary Putress, previously of Sylvanas’ Royal Apothecary Society.
LIADRIN: By the Light…
SORIDORMI: The Lich King chose Putress for the role that would have gone to Putricide – replacing one master alchemist with another, albeit perhaps a more ruthless one.
GARROSH: So, what, did Putress come up with some invention for Arthas, or…?
LIADRIN: Garroh, no… Think…the Wrathgate…
GARROSH: Oh… OH…
MOKVAR: Oh shit…
SORIDORMI: <nodding> With Putress in Icecrown Citadel rather than the Undercity, there was no coup against Sylvanas. There was no betrayal at the Battle of the Wrathgate. Dranosh Saurfang survived, as did Bolvar Fordragon. While the Lich King survived to fight another day, driven back into his fortress, the assault on the Wrathgate was regarded as a great victory – for Alliance and Horde alike. Bolvar would use that success, along with his newfound friendship with Saurfang the Younger, to persuade Varian Wrynn to reconsider his stance on relations with the Horde.
Soridormi waves her hand again. Above her upturned palm, a glowing likeness appears of Thrall and Varian Wrynn shaking hands.
The Alliance and Horde would sign the Dalaran Accords some weeks later. The war between Alliance and Horde was ended.
GARROSH: <sneers at the image> Fuck you, Varian.
MOKVAR: You know that’s not really him, right?
LIADRIN: Peace between the Horde and the Alliance… All those lives spared at the Wrathgate… And…
Liadrin looks down at the Ashbringer in her hands.
SORIDORMI: A number of other rather important events have…played out differently.
GARROSH: Like the fact that with Dranosh still alive, when it came time for Thrall to name an acting Warchief…
Soridormi nods.
And then… Cairne… By the spirits…when Hamuul’s druids were attacked by the Twilight’s Hammer…
MOKVAR: Cairne wasn’t as quick to think Dranosh was responsible, like he was with you? So that means…
GARROSH: There was never a duel. Cairne…never died. I never… He never died.
MOKVAR: This is all…I don’t even know what to call it. But, crazy as it all is…why is this timeline mixing with ours at all?
LIADRIN: Edwin. It’s all about Edwin…
SORIDORMI: <nods> These divergent timelines aren’t uncommon. There are countless events in your history that have produced alternate realities. But what’s different here is your friend. The split in realities was caused by Edwin averting his brother’s death. But it’s also Edwin who’s become unstuck in time. He’s spawned an entire universe in which he does not belong; he’s out of time, and time itself wants him back. It’s pulling him back and forth, and pulling the other reality into ours in the process. Edwin has become a shatter point in time, and the walls between realities are cracking around him. Eventually, the other timeline – the one we’re in now – will bleed through into ours.
LIADRIN: He’ll never even realize any of this is happening, will he? It’ll just happen while he’s off at other points in time.
SORIDORMI: Difficult to say. Though it wouldn’t surprise me if the timelines eventually converge to the point that he begins to remain here with you.
MOKVAR: Still trying to wrap my head around this…
SORIDORMI: It is much to absorb, I know.
MOKVAR: But…what do we do now?
SORIDORMI: Reality will continue to crack around Edwin until the timelines converge and this one, essentially, replaces ours, unless we can return both Edwins to where they belong and restore the original timeline.
LIADRIN: I suspect that won’t be quite as simple as running back through the portal to old Hillsbrad.
SORIDORMI: <shakes her head> Crossing your own timelines will be a dangerous proposition, and one that will take a tremendous focusing of magic. There’s much we’ll need to do here to prepare, and even then, there’s the small matter of getting this Edwin here at a point when he isn’t…elsewhere. Not to mention convincing him of the necessity of going back.
LIADRIN: I suppose we’ll just need to do what we can we can can erif we eht can do ma can i tub can what em semusnoc what taht erif a si ti regit eht ma i tub em hold selgnam taht regit a si ti revir eht the ma i tub gnola em speews taht line revir a si emit edam ma i we hcihw fo we ecnatsbus what we eht what si what emit what what we what we can to get ready.
NOZDORMU: Indeed. Chronormu, go speak with Erozion about a possible return incursion to Hillsbrad.
CHROMIE: Sure thing, captain.
Chromie teleports out. Garrosh, Liadrin, and Mokvar exchange uneasy looks both at each other and at Faranell – who likewise looks around uncomfortably. Soridormi, standing half a step behind Nozdormu, watches them and raises a single finger to her lips.
TIRION: Dr. Faranell? Are you all right? You seem out of sorts suddenly.
FARANELL: Yeah…um…
EITRIGG: It happened again, didn’t it?
NOZDORMU: <narrows his eyes, looking at Faranell grimly> Yes. It would appear so.
Faranell nods and sighs.
LIADRIN: Where were you this time, Edwin?
FARANELL: It was…a large, sprawling city, built into the mountains of a bright, orange-stoned desert. There were…orcs and trolls everywhere… Was… It was Orgrimmar, wasn’t it?
MOKVAR: Sounds like it.
GARROSH: Well, Doc, I don’t know if you were just in your past, but Orgrimmar is definitely in your future. You’re coming back with us, where we can watch out for you while we figure this thing out.
TIRION: A wise choice, mostly likely, my good Warchief. Upon our return to Hearthglen, I will have Daria make arrangements with the good doctor’s family to have whatever effects he might require transported to Orgrimmar.
GARROSH: Good deal. Don’t…um…don’t feel like you need to deliver them personally. Some plain ol’ couriers will do fine.
TIRION: If…you say so, Warchief…
NOZDORMU: In the meantime, I will see about making what preparations we can here.
GARROSH: Yeah. Thanks, Noz.
Nozdormu nods solemnly and walks off.
SORIDORMI: I should go assist Nozdormu. <looks slowly from Garrosh to Liadrin to Mokvar> I suspect I will see you all again, in due time.
We’re back in Orgrimmar now with Faranell. I’m going to have him assigned quarters somewhere he can be comfortable — well, as comfortable as a human can be in a city full of orcs — and we can keep an eye on him at all times. Not sure where we go from here, but I want him close just in case. Right now I’ve got a lot to think about…
More soon.
“Daria’s Pro Tip for Dealing with Tirion #8: Do not wear black mageweave leggings. Ever. Ever.”
Time isn’t holding us
After my latest kablooey-switcheroo, and finding out Mokvar’s been experiencing the same thing, I contacted Tirion to arrange for us to bring Faranell with us to the Caverns of Time. I was originally planning to have someone go pick up Edwin in Hearthglen and bring him back to Orgrimmar, but as it turns out, Tirion is concerned enough about Edwin that he insisted on escorting him to the Caverns of Time himself. Liadrin’s offered to come as well, so she’s going to meet them in Hearthglen before heading to Tanaris.
That works out for another reason: From talking to Liadrin, I found out that she’s also been experiencing these flashes, at least the last couple days. Same thing Mokvar and I have had happening – clear out of the blue, finding ourselves in a different situation with different people doing different things than we’d been doing the minute before. I asked around Orgrimmar, but nobody else seems to know what I’m talking about – not Eitrigg, not Nazgrim, not Spazzle, not anybody. Eitrigg, though…well, when he heard Tirion was coming to meet us at the Caverns of Time, he just up and invited himself along. So yay, fun times.
We arrived earlier today, and no surprise, the conversation was eventful.
SORIDORMI: Greetings once again, Warchief.
GARROSH: Sori. You already know Mokvar here.
Soridormi nods politely to Mokvar.
MOKVAR: Ma’am.
GARROSH: And this is Eitrigg, one of my main advisors. Eitrigg, let me introduce Soridormi, Prime Consort of Nozdormu.
EITRIGG: Lady Soridormi.
SORIDORMI: Of course. I haven’t met you yet. Not at all.
EITRIGG: Um…begging your pardon, m’lady?
GARROSH: Just let it slide, Eitrigg.
MOKVAR: Uh oh. Fog alert.
GARROSH: Try not to let yourself get all bent out of shape when they say cryptic stuff like that. They do it all the ffrreeaakkiinngg ttiimmee aaarrrooouuunnnddd hhheeerrreee, aaannnddd…oooohhhh, hhhheeeerrrreeee wwwweeee ggggoooo.
EITRIGG: Iiiissss aaaannnnyyyyoooonnnneeee eeeellllsssseeee nnnnoooottttiiiicccciiiinnnngggg…?
MOKVAR: Yyyyyoooouuuu ggggeeeetttt uuuusssseeeedddd ttttoooo iiiitttt.
The surrounding smoke thickens, and then, in slow motion, Nozdormu enters comes pimping in.
NOZDORMU: Warchief.
GARROSH: Noz.
EITRIGG: Does…he always do that when he arrives?
MOKVAR: Every. Single. Time.
NOZDORMU: I would say I hope you are all well, Garrosh, but based on your message, I know that’s not the case.
GARROSH: You could say that.
MOKVAR: Do you have any ideas about what this could be?
NOZDORMU: I have my suspicions. But I cannot be certain until…ah, here they come now.
Tirion Fordring enters, accompanying his aide Daria L’Rayne, Lady Liadrin, and, lingering behind them, Edwin Faranell.
GARROSH: Tirion, Liadrin.
MOKVAR: Hey Edwin.
TIRION: Greetings, gentlemen. And of course, Lady Soridormi. And the Timeless One, a great pleasure it is finally to make your acquaintance – truly an honor it is to finally stand in the presence of the being who serves our world as the caretaker of time itself.
NOZDORMU: Yes, I’d heard about you being the one responsible for wasting so very much of it.
TIRION: Timeless One?
NOZDORMU: Never mind.
EITRIGG: Tirion!
TIRION: Ah, Eitrigg, my friend! A pleasure and an honor it is to finally stand face to face with you once again! Too much time, far too many years have elapsed since last we stood in each other’s company.
EITRIGG: It’s good to see you again, my friend.
TIRION: A haggard sight, no doubt, for long-absent eyes in my case, noble orc. The intervening years have not, I suspect, been kind, and I fear the pains of loss and war weigh heavily on my face. But not without the accompanying relief of triumph and great hope, I can assure you!
Nozdormu rolls his eyes and waves one hand in Tirion’s direction.
And you, noble Eitrigg! The years, I must say, have been quite kind. Perhaps the stray wht hr, nd line on yr face – brght on, I cn nly hope by lghtr nd bmng smls, rthr thn strsss nd nxts A hrbngr I wld hp ny trst f a grt lnglfyttcmnflldwthjynd cntntmntagrtmsrfwichIcnnlyhpeImyytstndnrtwtnssfrsthnd.
NOZDORMU: Well, that was slightly less painful.
MOKVAR: Did you just fast-forward him?
GARROSH: Dude, is there any way I could get like a bottle of whatever that shit was? I will seriously pay you whatever you want to charge for it.
NOZDORMU: A bottle of dominion over time? Sorry, not really an option.
GARROSH: Dammit.
MOKVAR: Nice try, boss.
GARROSH: I would fucking POUR that shit on Dontrag and Utvoch.
TIRION: Well now, ladies and gentlemen…
GARROSH: Oh no, here he goes. Queue it up again, Noz.
TIRION: …I suppose it is time we addressed the man of the hour, as it were.
Tirion gestures back toward Faranell, who steps up past Liadrin and Daria. Nozdormu stares at Faranell for a long moment with an increasingly worried look.
NODORMU: Oh…oh, that’s not good…
GARROSH: Oh boy…
FARANELL: What’s wrong?
NOZDORMU: You are. Everything about you…you’re… I’m sorry, my friend, but you’re just wrong. You shouldn’t be.
FARANELL: Um, okay…
LIADRIN: I’d worried that it might be this bad…
GARROSH: Okay, so now that we’ve made him feel like crap, can we maybe find out what’s going on and what we can do about it?
NOZDORMU: He doesn’t belong here, in the simplest possible terms.
FARANELL: Because I’m not from this time…
GARROSH: But when we went back to old Hillsbrad, we weren’t from THAT time either, and WE didn’t start going all wonky.
SORIDORMI: When you travel through the time portals here, you do so under the protection of the Bronze Flight. The enchantments of our portals shield you from any ill effects from temporal displacement.
LIADRIN: So Edwin is unstable now because he came through to a different time without being insulated?
NOZDORMU: It’s not so simple with him.
GARROSH: That was simple?
MOKVAR: I think it’s about to get worse.
NOZDORMU: It’s not merely that Dr. Faranell isn’t supposed to be here in this time. He’s not meant to be anywhere, in any time. This Faranell, as he has been since he was brought to our time, should not exist. He’s been cut off from his own future, and time itself is reacting against it.
LIADRIN: So he’s essentially been pulled out of his own timeline, and now it’s causing him to rubber-band back to random points in that timeline?
NOZDORMU: Unstuck in time, yes.
FARANELL: So when I’ve flashed into events I don’t remember, it’s because those events were part of…well, the other me’s past rather than mine.
LIADRIN: They were the past you were supposed to have.
NOZDORMU: Or, in some cases, the future meant for you.
GARROSH: Wait, you mean a possible future, right? Isn’t it still in flux or something depending on what we do in the present?
NOZDORMU: Warchief, what did you do yesterday?
GARROSH: I…well, I went over some tactical plans with Nazgrim and Drok, took Mortimer for a ride around Durotar…um…played some Earth Online…
NOZDORMU: Was it pre-ordained that you do those things, do you suppose, or did you choose to do them?
GARROSH: Well, I guess I chose to…right?
NOZDORMU: And the fact that you can look back at them now doesn’t make them any less your decision at the time?
LIADRIN: I think I see where you’re going with this…
GARROSH: I…well, no.
NOZDORMU: The future is already written, Warchief. For you, me, everyone. We still write that destiny ourselves. But we already have written it. We simply must live it one page at a time.
LIADRIN: And now Edwin is flipping back and forth in the book.
GARROSH: Okay, so that sort of explains why Doc is skipping around his timeline. I guess. What about what’s been happening with me and Mokvar and Liadrin?
NOZDORMU: That…I’m not as sure of.
LIADRIN: It has to be connected to what’s happening to Edwin.
NOZDORMU: There’s no doubt of that, certainly. Let me check something. Chronormu!
Chromie teleports in next to Nozdormu.
CHROMIE: Hey, gramps, what’s— <notices Faranell> HOLY SHIT, what happened to HIM?!
FARANELL: Cut off from my own future.
LIADRIN: Unstuck in time.
MOKVAR: I’ve got the notes if you want to catch up real quick.
CHROMIE: Wowie wow, you’re a big ol’ timey-whimey mess!
FARANELL: We’re aware, yes.
SORIDORMI: Chromie, when the good doctor became displaced in time, he appears to have to have have dnuob to nori have he dna have elbisreverri si have appears ti esuaceb appears gniyfirret si ti laernu si ti esuaceb gniyfirret hold ton si ynitsed ruo snoitalosnoc the terces era dna noitarepsed fo stca eb ot line raeppa esrevinu lacimonortsa eht yned ot fles eht some yned ot some noisseccus had some laropmet had yned had ot had had some had some residual effect on…
Soridormi pauses a moment and looks around. Garrosh, Liadrin, and Mokvar look around as well, a bit disoriented, finding that everyone save themselves and Soridormi has disappeared.
Ah. There we are, finally. I was hoping to have a window while you were here.
Garrosh, Liadrin, and Mokvar exchange one more round of looks, then turn back to Soridormi.
Now then, why don’t we get down to business.
{TO BE CONTINUED…}
Dying of the light
I haven’t talked about this much, but ever since Cromush and his people recovered that light crystal fragment from Southshore a few weeks ago, I’ve been in contact with Liadrin about it. At first I let her hold it for safekeeping, since she was there from the get-go, and she seemed to have a better handle on what it was and what it can do than any of the rest of us. Since then, she’s kept it with her up in Quel’thalas.
Not long after I handed it off to her, she brought it with her on one of her trips up to the Sunwell, so she could compare it with the holy energy radiating from the Sunwell ever since it was reignited by M’uru’s spark. She says the two have basically the same feel, only that the fragment isn’t as potent. Liadrin is pretty much convinced that the original dark crystal was the spark of a dying naaru, which the Knights of the Silver Hand partially restored by pouring holy magic into it. Which means, now, that she believes the fragment she’s holding is a piece of a naaru’s soul.
Liadrin contacted me earlier this week and said she thinks that rather than holding the fragment, we should return it to the naaru, since it’s basically the spiritual remains of one of their own. At first I wasn’t so sure about this – considering what we’d seen these crystals do, they could be incredibly useful against the Scourge or any other undead threats that might come along. But then I got to thinking about what she says the fragment actually is – and, more importantly, thinking about the reason I was hesitant to give it up: basically I’d be saying we should hold the spirit of a once-living being captive, to leverage as a weapon against our enemies, rather than letting its kin lay it to rest, or do whatever they do with their dead.
I’ve been on the other side of that scenario. Not long ago. And I may be a lot of things, but I outright refuse to become THAT.
So, I ended up agreeing to her suggestion. Liadrin said the best option was to bring the fragment to A’dal himself, and she invited me to go with her for the trip. So yesterday morning I met up with her and had one of our mages portal us directly to Shattrath.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been to Shat, obviously, but usually when I’d gone there, I’d passed through fairly quickly. I never really stopped in at the Terrace of Light or met A’dal before. Liadrin took it as an occasion to give me a proper introduction – I think she kind of enjoyed showing off the fact that she on semi-kinda-sorta-friendly terms with our big glowy friend Captain Chandelier – and play up what a valuable “ally of the Light” I’d become, whatever the hell that means.
Liadrin did most of the talking. She approached A’dal, got out the crystal fragment, and started giving the short version of where we’d gotten it. Every so often she would pause for a minute, then go on talking some more. Seemed like she was having a conversation, only I was hearing just one side of it. She’d warned me beforehand that A’dal communicates through telepathy rather through actual audible sound, so I understood what was going on, but knowing in advance didn’t stop it from being a little unnerving to watch.
Still, watching it wasn’t nearly as unnerving as EXPERIENCING it. After Liadrin ran through the story of what happened to us in old Southshore, I started to…well, “hear” isn’t the right word exactly, but I don’t really have a better one. So…I started to hear this echoing, musical chiming in my head, strange and soothing all at once. Then a calm voice forming words – except, as an echo, almost. It was like I THOUGHT of the words myself, as if I were reading them, only without there actually being a book there to read, and then AFTER I already had the words in my mind, just by half a second, THEN the voice would echo them, flowing through my thoughts like a river.
Like I said, Liadrin had warned me about this, but no amount of warning could really prepare you for what it’s like. I wonder if anyone ever really gets used to it. A’dal echoed some words of thanks into my head, and a few other comments about it being good that I finally came to meet him, that he’d been aware of my passing my passing passing gnas my eh passing aware emit passing ot edo passing of latrommi na of emit ot edo na ni secalp rieht ot sevlesmeht hcatta youre ot welf dna sdrow elbahsirepmi etihw drah meht gnikam sih the tuohtiw enalp a morf sgnivahs ekil sllehs ekil llef spil boss sih morf dna mih revo sehcir sti deruop ksuh sti tilps emit drow stone eht aizer stone dias cracking stone emit cracking si cracking ti cracking cracking stone cracking stone while the floor shook under us. Shatari guards raced across the Terrace to hold the breach, only to have half their number immediately taken out by a shadow volley. As they fell, a demonic laugh echoed through the chamber – another thunderous crack, and an enormous chunk of the wall crumbled away.
From the other side of the fallen wall, Doom Lord Kazzak stepped into the Terrace. As he took his first step in, he lashed the Warblade of Archimonde through a dozen more Sha’tari guardians, slaying them immediately, and he let out another laugh as he fed off their deaths to swell up that much larger. Dozens of doomguards and man’ari rushed into the Temple from behind Kazzak. Beyond the walls all I could see was smoke and flame. Screaming voices came from every direction.
Liadrin tore through a wave of demons with a Divine Storm – barely even taking notice of them as she plowed through – and I took down a few myself with a whirlwind while we both closed in on Kazzak. He deflected a few of our blows with his blade, while some of them glanced off his legs without seeming to hurt him much. All the while I could hear a sound, higher and higher pitched, bubbling up in my mind, flowing and piercing all at once, coming from everywhere and nowhere. I took another swing at Kazzak, then looked over my shoulder.
A’dal was turning to face the Doom Lord. All the times I’d been here, I’d never seen him move before. But there he was, turning, rising, floating toward the fight, that white glow around him growing larger and brighter. And then that musical, liquid voice echoing my thoughts back at me.
It is not your time. Go. Now. Leave this place, and never return.
A blinding flash of white and yellow swelled out from A’dal and burst over part of Kazzak’s body. The demon lord recoiled, and you could see half the flesh from one arm and shoulder and part of his face had been burned away by the holy light. Kazzak bellowed angrily and lashed his blade into A’dal. The naaru lurched back and you could hear a harsh crystalline chiming from his body – then he straightened himself and unleashed another blinding burst of white light around himself and Kazzak, this time leaving most of the demon’s body burned and scarred, muscle and sinew exposed.
Kazzak reared back and screamed out in pain, letting loose another shadow volley that knocked me back and left another dozen or so Sha’tari troops lifeless on the ground. Kazzak burst into that booming laugh as he fed off the souls of the fallen. He swelled up larger again, some of his wounds regenerating, and, growling angrily, he lunged at A’dal, tearing his Warblade through the heart of his crystalline shape – which shook, buckled, and finally…cracked.
The screaming in my mind was the most awful thing I’ve never heard.
The shattered pieces of A’dal spun in place, pulsing, as he started to glow even brighter. Liadrin rushed to his side while Kazzak stepped back, shielding his eyes with his arm. Finally the white glow erupted as broken crystal fragments split and scattered around the temple, strewn in every direction in the wake of a shimmering white shockwave that knocked Liadrin and me back.
I pulled myself together and ran over to check on her. She was sprawled out on her back, eyes wide with shock. Before I could offer my hand, she’d pulled herself up, staring across the room at Kazzak while muttering “He…he…” She steadied herself, tightened her grip on the Ashbringer, then screamed out as she charged at the Doom Lord, her back glowing with holy wings while her eyes glowed with murderous rage murderous rage rage sllaf murderous emit rage glowed tnemides rage emos htiw rage with yvaeh ssalg with a morf sllaf pord a sa tniop a ot srepat youre emit tnadnep semoceb yaddim ta dleif a sa daerpsediw si hcihw the emit thgil gnicnad a htiw derevoc erutsap ynnus a si boss hcihw emit tniop a ot gnirepat emit si gnillaf pord siht htuoy ym gnisol htiw od ot gnihton times sah ton times si trying times gnillaf trying pord trying siht trying trying times trying times, he said, he had hope that I would see them through. I wasn’t sure what to say back – can’t say I’d ever had an actual conversation with my own head before – so I just sort of nodded and thanked him, and by this point Liadrin looked to be ready to go, so we gave the big guy a last respectful bow and turned to leave.
As we were about to exit the Terrace, I heard – felt? – that chiming, flowing sound swelling up in my thoughts again. It was A’dal offering a final thought, calling me by name as if it could be anyone else’s head he was reaching into. One last sentence came echoing back to me, then silence.
If you go to Kypari Zar, you will die.
I have no idea what that was supposed to mean. That is, other than the obvious. I get the dying part. But I’ve got no idea what the hell “Kypari Zar” is, or why I would go there, or how I’m supposed to make sure I don’t. Mostly, though, I’m really starting to get sick of people being all fucking cryptic.
I started to ask Liadrin about it, but she stopped me and said what A’dal chooses to share with anyone is for that person alone. Fat lot of good that does me, right? Oh well. Not going to lose sleep over it now. I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it.
More soon.
Return pilgrimage to Hearthglen
After Tirion’s aide Daria sent me that letter the other day, I arranged to take a trip back over to Hearthglen to see what we can do to help Faranell with whatever problems he’s having adjusting. I brought Mokvar with me for note-taking purposes – and had to listen to him complain about all the zeppelin miles I’ve had him logging lately for my troubles – and also sent a message up to Liadrin in Silvermoon that Faranell’s having some issues and we’ll keep her posted on what we end up doing.
I ended up being delayed in Orgrimmar a little, getting Nazgrim and Drok set up on a few recon missions we need tended to, but after that we finally caught our zeppelin to the Undercity. We arrived in Hearthglen this afternoon and got escorted straight up to Mardenholde Keep. Tirion was there, obviously, and joining us at the conference table upstairs was the man of the hour himself, Faranell.
TIRION: Again I’d like to thank you gentlemen for coming to meet with us. It truly is a testament to your dedication to your people that even now, after a change that leaves your colleague adrift on the opposite side of what has, in many quarters, grown to be a contentious racial divide, even now you rush to the side of your comrade at the first word of his difficulties. And doubtless, with such friendship to rally to his side—
GARROSH: Seriously, dude, I’ve been in town like ten minutes and you’re already on round three of this speech. Can we just get on with it already?
TIRION: As you wish, Warchief.
GARROSH: Thank the spirits.
TIRION: In that case, I suppose this would be the time to defer to our friend Dr. Faranell. I felt under the circumstances it might be best to include him in our deliberations, such that he might provide a first-hand account of his difficulties.
GARROSH: So Doc, Tirion says you’ve been seeing things? Visions, maybe?
FARANELL: That’s just it, though. I’m not “seeing things” as if they were just appearing around me.
TIRION: This, you see, Warchief, is the line of discussion that prompted me to contact you on the matter at hand. Please do go on, Doctor.
FARANELL: Well, for instance, the first time it happened, I was walking down toward the front gates… I distinctly remember looking over at the mill…and then I felt dizzy for a few seconds. I looked around again, and it was as if I were in Dalaran, in my old study there.
GARROSH: Still sounds like a hallucination, just on a bigger scale – maybe one of the buildings you were walking by reminded you of Dalaran, or…?
FARANELL: <shakes his head> It wasn’t just the place, though. I was in my study, sitting in my old chair, and Kel’Thuzad was there. He was talking about some…new types of spells he’d been trying out. After the first few words, I recognized what he was saying – it was a conversation we’d had about a year ago. Well…it used to be a year ago…
GARROSH: Hmm. So it was a flashback.
MOKVAR: Makes sense that he might have them, really. <nods at Faranell> That you would have them, I mean. Sorry, Edwin…
FARANELL: <shrugs> It’s fine. I’m starting to get used to people talking about me as if I’m not in the room.
MOKVAR: Anyway, though. I’m not surprised that you’re flashing back to some of your memories from before, strange as everything here must be for you now…
FARANELL: But that’s the thing. It wasn’t just a memory.
GARROSH: How do you mean?
FARANELL: I wasn’t just watching myself having this conversation I’d had before. I was watching Kel’Thuzad talk, and then after a minute, he looked at me, and I must have had a strange look on my face, because I said I looked confused and asked if I was all right. And that definitely wasn’t something that happened originally.
GARROSH: So the memory was your starting point, and then you started interacting with it. Sort of like a dream.
FARANELL: Maybe. I don’t know. It all seemed so real. And every detail seemed exactly right.
GARROSH: Well you do have that super-memory. Makes sense that you’d fill in the details really well.
TIRION: It does, indeed, makes sense that one blessed with such a memory – eidetic, I believe, if I recall the terminology correctly – would likewise be, conversely, cursed in such a circumstance as this with hallucinations of an enhanced degree of verisimilitude, such that one might indeed have difficulty distinguishing the illusion from reality.
GARROSH: Yeah, T-Ford, that’s what I just said, only with like half the words.
MOKVAR: Edwin, you said that was the first time it happened. How long ago was that?
FARANELL: Almost two weeks now.
GARROSH: How many more times has it happened since then?
FARANELL: Three more.
GARROSH: What did you see then?
FARANELL: Once, it was just after I’d arrived at the inn in Southshore…that last time I was there.
MOKVAR: I can see how your thoughts might go there, especially early on…
FARANELL: Another time, it was three years ago, at my brother’s wedding. In the middle of making my toast, of all things… I was standing there with everyone staring at me, like I’d just stopped in mid-sentence…
GARROSH: Okay…so flashing back to fairly major events in your life. I mean, it must suck for you to be going through it, but it does kind of add up, considering…
FARANELL: You would think that’s what it is, yes, but here’s the problem. The third time wasn’t something I remember happening at all.
GARROSH: What was the third one?
TIRION: This is, you will find, the most troubling of the set…
FARANELL: I was back in Brill. The town was being attacked. Ghouls, skeletons, zombies…every kind of undead you can think of. I was with a few other townspeople, trying to help fight them off…but they kept coming, and…I think I died.
GARROSH: You…what?
FARANELL: I don’t know. But…it felt like dying. <shrugs> Not that I’ve ever died before, to know.
Garrosh, Mokvar, and Tirion exchange looks. Faranell watches them grimly.
FARANELL: It’s how I died, isn’t it?
Garrosh looks to Tirion for a moment, then back to Faranell.
FARANELL: Not me me, obviously. But…the other me. The one you knew. That…became one of them. It’s how he died.
GARROSH: The thing of it is…I don’t know. It sounds like it could have been, but I don’t know.
FARANELL: He was killed by the Scourge, wasn’t he?
TIRION: Aye. As were many – far too many – some years ago.
GARROSH: But I don’t know the details. Did he…well, the other you. What did he tell you in the letter he wrote you? About how he died.
FARANELL: Not very much. Just that he was killed when the Scourge swept through Lordaeron, and was raised as undead not long afterward.
TIRION: I would imagine the undead incarnation of Dr. Faranell would have seen little purpose in filling out the details of such an event, insofar as he would have envisioned his younger self as being safely relocated to a time well removed from such events. If anything, he likely would hardly have wished to revisit the experience himself…
GARROSH: And so that’s the problem, at least for us here.
MOKVAR: <nods> Right. We don’t have anything to compare this to. So what you saw, Edwin, could have been how the other version of you died…or it could just be hw you imagine he would have died.
FARANELL: Yeah…
GARROSH: And the shitty part of it is there’s really no way for us to check on something like that, so we might just have to have to have have neewteb to ni have just stneve have eht lla have to ot stisiv to modnar syap dna syas eh semit ynam htaed if dna htrib sih nees sah eh you eerht ytxis neetenin ni flesmih dnif go ot rood taht hguorht kcab enog to sah eh eno ytrof neetenin ni kypari eno rehtona tuo emoc dna evif zar ytfif neetenin ni rood a hguorht you deklaw sah eh yad gniddew sih will no denekawa dna rewodiw elines a die peels ot enog sah yllib emit lines ni kcutsnu lines emoc supply lines sah supply mirglip supply yllib supply supply lines supply lines, so getting ammunition OUT here in much quantity is going to be a problem.
MOKVAR: Just based on our trip up here, I’d say that’s only going to get more difficult.
LIADRIN: I’m only too aware.
GARROSH: I don’t think you are, though.
LIADRIN: What do you mean?
GARROSH: We passed Andorhal on the way here. Tirion’s arrived.
LIADRIN: By the light…
GARROSH: <nods> I lost eight Kor’kron just in passing, and had them raised right in front of my eyes.
LIADRIN: <sighs> We were already getting pinned in badly enough here, without coming under siege by an enemy who knows our defenses and capabilities better than we know ourselves… Daria?
DARIA: Yes, ma’am?
LIADRIN: Have a messenger sent to Lord Tyrosus at Light’s Hope to ask for aid…
DARIA: Yes, my Lady.
Daria runs out.
GARROSH: Also…I think it might be time for us to start considering the backup plan you’d suggested. If we can get some kind of improvised docking structure up, I should be able to get a gunship here to evacuate Hearthglen, and from there you and I can make the make the the meht make stseretni the i taht the tnemom yna the can ta kool can nac yeht dna era stnemom eht if lla tnenamrep woh ees you nac yeht ecnatsni rof go sniatnuom ykcor eht fo to hcterts a ta kool kypari nac ew yaw eht zar tsuj stnemom tnereffid eht you lla ta kool nac will snairodamaflart eht tsixe lliw die syawla detsixe evah syawla to erutuf dna to tneserp have to tsap have stnemom have lla have have to have to wait and see on any other cases, if they happen, and… Edwin? Are you okay?
Faranell looks around the room, disoriented and visibly shaken, then lets out a sigh.
TIRION: Dr. Faranell?
FARANELL: It happened again…
GARROSH: Just now?
Faranell nods.
TIRION: What did you see this time, Doctor?
FARANELL: I was…in a wooded area. Dark, dreary…not sure where, exactly… There were orcs with me, fighting beside me…
GARROSH: Fighting what?
FARANELL: A group of… <pauses a moment as if searching for a word> …tauren, I think?
GARROSH: It must have been a pretty quick fight. You were talking not even a minute ago.
FARANELL: No… That is, I wasn’t there long, but…it was at least a good five minutes.
MOKVAR: No.
GARROSH: It couldn’t have been.
TIRION: Dr. Faranell, I can assure you, you were engaged in this very conversation with is until mere seconds ago. There most certainly was not a window of some minutes during which you could have perceived the events you describe.
MOKVAR: I remember reading once that dreams happen in a sort of condensed time…
GARROSH: How’s that?
MOKVAR: Just that when you have a dream, if it seems like ten minutes pass in the dream, it’s really only taking your brain a few seconds to experience it. It just seems longer to you.
GARROSH: Holy shit, that’s freaky.
MOKVAR: Strange but true.
TIRION: That would lend credence to our suspicion that the good doctor is suffering from a terrible affliction of the imagination…
FARANELL: No, I’m telling you, I was there.
GARROSH: Edwin, you were right here with us the whole time.
FARANELL: I wasn’t imagining it. It was happening.
GARROSH: Okay, okay. Fine. Maybe so. So much weird shit seems to happen to us, what’s one more thing.
TIRION: It would appear indeed, gentlemen, that oddities do gravitate toward you. A phenomenon to which I cannot say I find myself impervious, for if you recall—
GARROSH: I’d really rather not, T-Ford.
TIRION: Oh. As you prefer, Warchief…
GARROSH: Anyway… I suppose this is all we’re going to work out in one sitting. We should probably let you get back home.
TIRION: Miss L’Rayne?
DARIA: Yes, Highlord?
TIRION: Is the good doctor’s family still here?
DARIA: Yes, sir. His brother is waiting for him downstairs.
TIRION: Excellent. If you would be so kind, please escort the doctor down.
MOKVAR: Hang in there, Edwin.
GARROSH: Don’t worry, Doc. We’ll get this figured out yet.
Faranell nods to them glumly. Daria leads him out of the room. Garrosh, Mokvar, and Tirion sit quietly for a moment.
GARROSH: So what do we think’s really going on with him?
MOKVAR: I’ve got nothing.
TIRION: I too am at a loss for words, Warchief.
GARROSH: You know, under different circumstances, that sentence would have been fucking spectacular, but…
TIRION: I suppose I might venture, however…
GARROSH: Oh. Here we go. That didn’t last long.
TIRION: …though I cannot offer any helpful conjecture on the good doctor’s current, troubling condition—
GARROSH: Oh so he doesn’t have anything helpful to say. Watch him keep talking anyway.
TIRION: —I would, whoever, hasten to commend you gentlemen on the camaraderie and fellowship that has compelled you to journey once again to our fine sanctuary, in hopes of aiding a friend whom in a very real sense you do not truly know. It is steadfast commitment to honor, not unlike that demonstrated by your noble kinsman Eitrigg, without whose aid I likely would not be with us here today – have I told you the tale, as an aside? I do not recall if ever I have regaled you with that episode from years gone past.
GARROSH: Listen, I brought Dontrag and Utvoch with me again. Don’t make me use them.
So…that’s where we stand. A whole lot of nothing, and maybe an ounce or two more of YEEEESH. For right now we’re just going to have to keep an eye or twelve on Faranell and see if anything else happens. Let’s hope not. But then again, I know our luck.
More soon.
“Daria’s Pro Tip for Dealing with Tirion #14: Never make eye contact. Eye contact makes him assume you’re interested, and increases word output by 25%.”
