Tag Archives: making mount campers cry

A bargain at any price


You know, I don’t know what was the bigger surprise — running into King Chin’s brat kid at the Tavern in the Mists, or how fast he was able to clear absolutely 100% out of the area even with that bum leg of his.

You’ll notice, by the way, that I’m not listing “Anduin is ALIVE” in my list of surprises, because seriously, at this point, I don’t know if there are ANY thought-they-were-dead people who could turn up again and have me going “HOLY SHIT, WHAT A SURPRISE!” Because, you know, I might have mentioned this a time or two, but NOBODY FUCKING STAYS DEAD ANYMORE. So, hey, Prince Goody-Two-Shoes wants to shrug off certain doom? Sure, why the fuck now. At this rate, it would only surprise me if… I don’t know, let’s say fucking Illidan… DOESN’T show up again at some point.

Anyhow. Mokvar had some research or whatever that he wanted to do here at the tavern, so I took off to have a look around the area. I didn’t send up going far, though. Turns out there’s another building right next door where this old panda lady, Madam Goya, runs an off-the-books auction house. She had a ton of fairly rare and coveted stuff up for sale. It’s probably better off for me that I don’t know how she GOT all that stuff… but you know what’s REALLY better off for me? That freaking Shayari DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT THIS PLACE, that’s what, because holy crap could she pile up some orders of magnitude fast at these prices.

Still, I DID spot one goody up for sale that I just couldn’t pass up as an impulse buy.





Okay, who pulled?


Earlier today, I rounded up General Nazgrim, Shokia, Jorn Skyseer, and a few Kor’kron — beastmasters in particular — and finally took a trip up to the Isle of Giants. Most of you will probably remember I’ve been having Nazgrim send his people up there to get the lay of the land and scout out the prospect of there being some animals — the Giants of which this is the Isle of — that might be useful to us. Because DINOSAURS, motherfucker.

Now, most of you will ALSO probably remember that the last time I got a report on the subject from Naz and company, I was still in Orgrimmar, and Nazgrim’s people decided to get cute rather than waiting for me to get back down here to Pandaria. And, you know, things went about as well as you’d expect them to when my minions go off-script. R.I.P. Wannabe Dinomancer Steve, you stupid dead motherfucker.

So today I finally took the trip up there to check things out personally. And HOO BOY, they were NOT kidding about that place. DINOSAUR CITY, man. Shokia took point for us, since she’d led the scouting expeditions and knew the territory the best. She guided us up to this central plateau on the island, and lo and behold, larger than life, there he was — Oondasta, the giant freaking devilsaur that Nazgrim’s crew had their eyes on last time, before ol’ Deadmaster Steve turned out to smell appetizing.

Now, though, we came prepared — seeing as THIS time, the brains of the operation had an actual BRAIN. What’s more, I had my handy-dandy Tome of Dinomancy that Grottee Metalbeard scored for me, and after we managed to maneuver Oondasta into a clear area, the beastmasters started doing their thing, and everything started falling into place. The dino struggled at first, but soon enough he started giving in to the enchantments of the tome, and full-on taming looked to be right around the corner.

Aaaaaand of course, since this is US, that’s when something stupid happened. The stupid in this case took the form of this random bunch of Alliance nobodies running on in and ATTACKING the damn devilsaur that we were trying to tame. Before we even had a chance to react, they had the dino beaten down pretty badly, and even though we were able to thin the herd pretty quickly once we realized what was going on, the remaining Allies were still able to finish Oondasta off. Like, just shy of one minute before I personally chopped the last handful of them into several dozen pieces.

But, still, damage done. Shokia was nearly as pissed off about it as I was, which is saying something. Apparently it’s some kind of a hunter thing, people killing their prospective pets, and I mean, who the fuck does that? In what other setting is that shit a cool thing to do? Would someone go running into a fucking pet shop, too, and put an axe through the damn goldfish you were getting ready to buy, along with a little model sunk ship and a little model Nazgrim leading his little model crew away from their latest little model disaster? No. Nobody does that. But oh boy, take the “you kill it, you buy it” policy out of the equation, and all of a sudden watch the griefers come out of the woodwork. Fucking rude if you ask me.

Anyway, I suppose we didn’t come away COMPLETELY empty-handed. We know that these tomes actually work, for one thing. And according to my sources, there’s an even bigger, badder devilsaur wandering around out there. A little more elusive, apparently, but we’ll find him.

Also, I have kind of a consolation prize to bring back to base with me. After Oondasta and the bad-judgment-having Alliance jackasses all bought it, we were getting ready to leave, when this young, cobalt-colored direhorn came wandering into the clearing. She went sniffing around Oondasta’s body, then poked around kind of aimlessly before she came over near us. Jorn’s guess is that the direhorn followed Oondasta around and fed on his leftovers. Whatever the story was, she seemed to take a liking to me right away (#TheLadyDinosaursLoveGarrosh?), and started following me, and… well… yeah, I guess I’ve got another mount for my personal stash in the stables. <shrug>

Anyhow, I suppose we’ve got a little time now to line things up for take two with that other devilsaur. In the meantime, I get to figure out how I’m going to get a damn direhorn back to base.

More soon.


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.


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

LIADRINNot 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.


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.


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.


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.


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 mad bomber of Zul’Gurub


After I sent up my signal, I waited with Mortimer at the gates of Zul’Gurub. I was able to see roughly which way Tembw’bam was flying – he looked to be keeping at a fairly high altitude and moving toward the far end of the ruins. Probably not heading to any of the central structures, but hard to say for sure.

Krog and Mokvar showed up fairly quickly, and brought some extra support with them – Nimboya from Grom’gol, and one of Nimboya’s Bambala contacts, Kil’karil. (Side note: Kil’karil is like the only troll I’ve ever met who’s made ANY effort at all to get rid of that idiotic accent they all seem to have. I guess the dude worked with a speech coach at some point, because every so often, when he really bears down, he’s actually able to talk like, you know, a normal person. When he’s feeling a lot of stress he tends to lose focus, though, and lapse back to old habits, but hey, at least he’s trying, I suppose.)

Once we were all gathered, we made our way inside. Zul’Gurub is mostly empty these days – after Jin’do tried to do his mojo on ghost-Hakkar and got his ass smacked down by Horde adventurers last year, the rest of the Gurubashi have mostly cleared out. Not sure if they’ve just scattered around Stranglethorn, or taken off to somewhere else, but you only ever see a few stragglers hanging around their old stomping grounds these days. At this point the only residents seem to be – you guessed it – animals.

We split up to make a sweep through the ruins – Mokvar and me (Team Orc!) to the north, Nimboya and Kil’karil (Team Troll!) to the south, and Krog (Team Sneaky Bugger!) stealthing around doing his roguey recon thing.

As we were passing by Bethekk’s old temple, Mokvar and I ran into a bunch of panthers, most of which were rocking a couple pieces of leather or mail gear. Nothing we couldn’t handle, between me bladestorming and Mokvar throwing down an earthquake or two. While we were fighting them off, though, we spotted our old friend again – Tembw’bam was swooping on by, into the temple. Once we’d finished off the panthers, we went in after him, but tried to stay quiet so we could maybe see what he was up to.

The temple was mostly empty as far as signs of life were concerned – unless you count about a zillion rats (not equipped with knives and helmets this time, mercifully) – but as far as signs of death? Total overstock. There were skeletons scattered around the place, with weapons and armor scattered around the bones. It looked like a whole bunch of somebodies managed to die on their way through this place once upon a time, and their old gear was left behind as a memento.

Eventually, we made our way to the inner chamber, where Arlokk, and later Kilnara, had set up shop until they were defeated. Now the room just serves as the innermost pile of skeletons and gear in the building. We snuck in as quietly as we could, and peeked in. Sure enough, our boy Tembw’bam was bouncing around, stuffing gear into bags like some kind of backwards hyperactive Greatfather Winter. (I STILL want to know how he managed to load that much shit into a backpack, by the way.) Still yammering on and on to himself, by the way, something along the lines of…actually, you know what, fucking Mokvar was there. See for yourself:


Tembw’bam runs erratically around the chamber, shoving gear into a number of bags.

TEMBW’BAM: …that’s what ya gotta do, mon, ya gotta keep the line movin’, mon! Hah! HahahaHAH! And so he says to me, he says, ya wanna be a hero? And I say, YAH MON! It gonna be bad! Bad, mon  So bad it good, mon! HAHA! I be makin’ da gravy wit’out da lumps, mon! HAHAHAH!

He picks up a warhammer and swings it around awkwardly, almost falling over multiple times.

TEMBW’BAM: Swing an’ miss, mon! Turn of da screw! It’s da bottom of da ninth an’ da dog an’ pony be showin’ da ropes, mon! HAHAHAHAH!

He shifts into cat form and leaps across the room, then starts shoveling gear into a nearby satchel with both paws.

TEMBW’BAM: So he says ta me, he says ta me, you got style, mon! But you gotta get a plan! You need a plan, mon! And I says, I go, YAH MON, a plan, dat’s it! Tembw’bam gonna arm me army! Arm me army, arm me army arm me army armmearmy armarmymarmy army army ARM ’DEM MON! And kill all da two-legs! YAH, MON, YAH! HAHAHAHA!

MOKVAR: <aside to Garrosh> Wow, you weren’t kidding about this guy.

GARROSH: No shit, right?

Tembw’bam perks a cat ear and looks back at the doorway, spotting Garrosh and Mokvar.

MOKVAR: Uh oh.


Everyone stares at each other for several seconds. Tembw’bam turns back into a troll.

TEMBW’BAM: Oh. Um. <long pause while he looks around nervously> Um…hhhhhhhhhhey, mon.


MOKVAR: Uh, hey?

GARROSH: So. About this whole deal here with the bags.

Tembw’bam starts pushing random gear around the floor with his feet.

TEMBW’BAM: Oh, dat, mon? Oh, ya know, I just be tryin’ ta neaten up in here, it be all messy, ya know, just an eyesore when it be such a nice place when ya keep it nice…an’…uh…an’…AN’ HE SAYS, EVIL BE OKAY IN MY BOOK, MON, HOW ’BOUT YOURS? An’ I go, I says, YAH MON YAH! YAH!

Tembw’bam suddenly shapeshifts into cat form and pounces Garrosh, knocking him to the floor.

GARROSH: Fucking hell—!

TEMBW’BAM: Dead mon walkin’, mon! Dead mon on da trapeze! AN OBJECT AT REST CANNOT BE STOPPED, MON!

Tembw’bam dashes past Garrosh and Mokvar through the doorway and runs up the stairs.

GARROSH: Seriously, would it kill you to put the pen down when shit like that starts happening to me?


So yeah, can you believe that shit?

We ran upstairs as fast as we could, but I’m guessing he must have stealthed once he got outside. Mokvar and I started making our way further east, then south, and tried to check around as many corners as we could on the way.

After we’d cleared out a bunch of random wandering snakes (which were wearing plate chest pieces, which, y’know, ONE DOES WHEN ONE IS A SNAKE), we passed by what’s left of High Priest Thekal’s old area. It’s mostly destroyed and collapsed in on itself since the Cataclysm, just heaps of stone and fallen walls, but I thought I heard something in there, so we stopped to have a look-see. When we got closer, I thought the noises were coming from behind some of the rubble, so I yanked a few of the stone blocks out of the way. (YES I can just toss stone blocks around like that, pansies – that’s what fucking happens when you actually know what the inside of the gym looks like.) Turns out, there was a fucking TIGER back there! Only I guess the thing was trapped, who knows for how long, so it wasn’t really hostile, just eager to get the hell out of there.

Funny thing is, once it was free, the tiger didn’t seem too interested in outright leaving – it just sort of stayed close by and followed me around for a while. I guess maybe it was grateful that I’d gotten it free or something? Eventually from the way the tiger kept leaning down when it was close, I took a guess that it was trying to offer to let me ride on its back. Which, okay, that’s all kinds of cool. Don’t get me wrong – Mortimer is awesome and all, but riding around on a tiger is pretty damn badass. Mokvar whined a little about not getting to ride it too, but hey, I don’t share rides that way with other dudes, and plus, he’s got his damn wolf form or whatever. What’s up with shaman who can’t seem to remember they can do that, anyway?

Anyhow, we took off from Thekal’s corner and started heading south. Near the path leading up to Bloodlord Mandokir’s old digs, we found Nimboya and Kil’karil fighting off a bunch of raptors…which were wearing leather bomber helmets. Yeah. Meanwhile, everybody’s favorite nutjob druid was swooping around swiping at our guys while they were busy dealing with the raptors. When he saw us coming in to join the fight, though, he was smart enough to figure he’d better make himself scarce, and flew up out of our reach.

There was a large troll temple overlooking the path we were on, built into the surrounding hills. While we got the raptors under control, Tembw’bam flew up to the temple and disappeared through an arch for a minute, then came flying back out – and started flinging saronite bombs down at us, doing his patented ranting all the while…


TEMBW’BAM: An’ so he says, I don’t like the cut o’ ya jib! And I says, I go, it’s da only jib I got, mon! HAHAHAHAHA!

Garrosh, Mokvar, Nimboya, and Kil’karil scatter, trying to avoid the falling bombs.

KIL’KARIL: What be dis guy’s problem, mon?!

GARROSH: <smacking a bomb away with Gorehowl, only to have it detonate just in front of him and knock him back> Including or in addition to being totally fucking nuts?

TEMBW’BAM: <swooping over, dropping more bombs> Yah! Boom, mon, boom! Eat saronite, two-legs! HAHAHA!

GARROSH: Dude, what fucking species do you think YOU are?

MOKVAR: Arguing with the crazy guy might not be the best plan.

GARROSH: How about you come talk to me about tactical options after you put the fucking notebook away?

Tembw’bam starts to circle around to make another bombing swoop, when Mortimer flies in and collides with him, knocking him back and causing him to drop his remaining bombs into one of the nearby walls. Tembw’bam hits the ground hard, then pulls himself up to his feet as a troll.

GARROSH: Okay, now we’re in business!

MOKVAR: You really need to give that wyvern a raise at some point.

Tembw’bam casts Hibernate on Mortimer, putting him to sleep in mid-air and causing him to crash to the ground. Garrosh charges at Tembw’bam, who casts Typhoon and knocks him back into the rest of the group.

TEMBW’BAM: Ha! Haha! HAHAHA! For every action, dere be an equal an’ opposite stitch in time, mon! HAHA! An’ so I says ta him, tell me I be wrong, an’ he says, he goes, I can’t, mon, ’cause you’re n—

Tembw’bam’s ranting is interrupted when Krog unstealths behind him and stun-locks him.

KROG: Oh. Shut. Up, laughing boy.

GARROSH: Oh thank goodness.

KIL’KARIL: Well he truly is a piece of work, now isn’t he?

MOKVAR: Hang on, what’s up with your voice, Kil?

KIL’KARIL: What about my voice? I haven’t a notion what you mean.

NIMBOYA: Don’ try to get into it wit’ him, mon.

GARROSH: <sprinting back over to Tembw’bam> Okay, so finally…

Tembw’bam breaks out of Krog’s stun, shapeshifts into bear form, and bashes Krog. He immediately shifts to cat form and tries to leap away, but is intercepted by Garrosh, who grabs him tightly by the scruff of his neck.

GARROSH: <holding Tembw’bam at arm’s length while he flails around futilely> Not so fast there, batshit.

TEMBW’BAM: You’ll never prove a t’ing, mon! I’m just a part-time herbalist! I— I— I…

KROG: Uh, we’ve got like a room full of witnesses who saw—


MOKVAR: Again, arguing with the insane? Not really worth it.


So, we finally managed to get that fucker under wraps. By this point, Mortimer was back up and about – he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him when he crash landed, but he wasn’t any worse for wear other than a few bruises – so he and I flew up to that temple that Tembw’bam was zipping in and out of. Inside, there were frigging MOUNTAINS of gear, and bags scattered all around the place. Pretty much any kind of weapon or armor you could think of, most of it showing some wear and tear but still plenty usable.

We made another sweep around Zul’Gurub, but only found a handful of other geared-up animals. There were a few other areas where there was a pretty large amount of gear laying around on the ground among skeletons, especially up on top of the Altar of the Blood God, where Jin’do was trying to do his thing on Hakkar. I’m thinking Tembw’bam may have been flying around in here gathering up all the equipment that had been dropped by adventurers who’d come into ZG and gotten their asses killed. Granted, given the quality of some of this crap, I can see why they didn’t have a whole lot of success, but still. Who knows how many places he’d been doing this in.

I’m having Tembw’bam ferried off to – let’s just say – a secure place to be held and kept out of trouble. Meanwhile, I’m on my way back to Orgrimmar, where all of a sudden I’ve got to find some more stable space for the tiger. Maybe in a pen next to the camel. We’ll see.


Camel Horde-r


Writing this from the Steam Pools. The settlement by the pools is actually a resort run by goblins out of Gadgetzan…pretty pricey, actually, although you’d be surprised the deals you can get when you beat three or four members of the staff within an inch of their lives. (And by an inch of their lives, by the way, I mean a total sum of an inch between the lot of them.) Best deals anywhere indeed!

On the way up here I actually thought I might have stumbled onto another lead with the whole Twilight thing. As I was flying over the pools, I spotted an oversized ettin wandering around, and since I know the Twilight’s Hammer people have ettins working for them, I went in to check on it. Turns out this particular ettin – huge one too – was pretty irritable, and started giving me some incoherent-grunting lip, so I had to smack him down a couple times. Or three. Or nine. Or, well, however many it was until he stopped breathing. Moral of story, people need to stop being so hostile when I’m in the neighborhood. I mean, if you take the first swing, I’m GOING to take the last swing. Granted, if I take the first swing, I’m going to take the last swing, too…but looking at it that way, pretty much the only way you’re even going to have a CHANCE at ending up body-bag-free if to hold back, cross your fingers, and hope I’m not looking to start something. It’s really just about the math.

Anyway, punch line is, the ettin dude was carrying around some gray camel on his back (yeah, I know, I TOLD you he was big), so when I dropped him, he dropped the camel, which then took a shine to me and started following me around. So I had to lead it on back to the resort and stable it there. The thing still seems pretty attached, so I might end up taking it back to Orgrimmar later on, but damned if I know what to feed a fucking camel.

I’m checked in now at the inn. Garona should be here soon to compare notes. Updates to follow.