Tag Archives: mortimer
Could we have the demons back?
We stopped at Splintertree Post first, but there was no Mortimer there. I was pretty much guessing as far as where to look for him, since I’d originally found him at Hellscream’s Reach, which, well, doesn’t exist as an outpost in this world. Our next stop was Silverwind Refuge, and there we finally had some luck. Good and bad, actually, depending on how you count.
On the good: among the windrider master’s batch of wyverns, I spotted that familiar mane. I’m not sure if he somehow remembered me from the other timeline, or if there’s just something about me that drew him to me in either world, or if it’s that I knew to call him by name – whatever it was, Mortimer saw me approaching, climbed down from his perch, and came right over. I notified Wind Tamer Shoshok that one of her wyverns was being requisitioned.
On the mixed-bag-ish: well…
DRANOSH: I know you said you need to go gather some information, but you know we could just give you any number of wyverns.
GARROSH: You can give Mokvar any number of wyverns.
DRANOSH: What’s so special about this one?
GARROSH: <chuckles> I wouldn’t even know where to start.
While Garrosh and Dranosh talk, there’s a murmuring among the Silverwind troops behind them, followed by the voice of…
UTVOCH: Warchief!
DRANOSH and GARROSH: <turning and overlapping> What?
UTVOCH: So glad to see you, sir! You won’t believe what’s been going on lately!
GARROSH: Um, Utvoch, are you talking to me or the Warchief here? You seem confused.
MOKVAR: “Utvoch, you seem confused.” There’s something you never hear.
DRANOSH: Uh, Garrosh, do you know this person?
MOKVAR: Not yet.
GARROSH: <rubbing forehead> Yeah, yeah, I do. Kind of. Warchief, let me introduce Scout Utvoch. I’ve had…some dealings with him…in the past.
UTVOCH: Sir! A great honor to see you again, sir, a very great inconceivable relief—
GARROSH: <smacks Utvoch> That’s not what that word means in any reality.
MOKVAR: Garrosh, you know, if Utvoch is here, that probably means…
DONTRAG: <calling from a distance while sprinting over> Utvoch! What are you doing?
GARROSH: <perks an eyebrow at Mokvar> You just had to jinx us, didn’t you?
Mortimer cringes and edges back from Dontrag and Utvoch.
UTVOCH: Dontrag! Look, Garrosh is here, and I’m just telling him and the Warchief—
DONTRAG: Oh for goodness’ sake, Ut, are you going to start bothering them with that idiocy about you being somewhere else only it’s not somewhere else only there’s nobody there except you other than the people who are there that aren’t here?
GARROSH: <spins to Mokvar> See? SEE? I told you!
UTVOCH: I’m telling you it’s true, Dontrag! I really was seeing it and – <turns back to Garrosh> and – and it wasn’t a dream of a hallucinationatory or anything!
DONTRAG: Idiot, you were standing right next to me every time you said it happened and I didn’t see a blasted thing.
DRANOSH: So, okay, who is this one, then?
GARROSH: This is Sergeant Dontrag, Utvoch’s…well, I’m not going to say “better half”…
MOKVAR: They kind of come as a set.
GARROSH: Kind of like peas in an incredibly retarded pod that almost, not quite but almost, makes you hope the demons win.
DRANOSH: That’s not funny, actually.
DONTRAG: I… High Overlord… I’m honored that you know me, sir. A great vast honor to think that my reputation would have reached you all the way in Orgrimmar, sir!
GARROSH: Wait, what?
MOKVAR: <aside to Garrosh> Uh, you never would have met them here. Utvoch only remembers you because…you know… <does Nozdormu’s “wibbly wobbly, timey whimey” hand motion>
GARROSH: <aside to Mokvar> Oh…yeah…right… <to Dontrag> Right, well, see, Dontrag, I always make a point of keeping an eye on the, um, performance of all our soldiers. Just part of my job.
DONTRAG: Oh, um, really…?
DRANOSH: It is?
DRO SHADOWFREE: <chiming in from nearby> Have you been satisfied with my work as well, Overlord?
GARROSH: <spitting his words out curtly with a quick, annoyed glance at Dro> Shut the fuck up, you don’t matter.
DRO SHADOWFREE: Oh…
DONTRAG: An honor to meet you as well, Warchief. Please don’t let my friend here bother you with his idiocy.
UTVOCH: You’re one to talk about idiocy!
DRANOSH: So, um, Garrosh, is this one the brains of the operation or something?
MOKVAR: I think that question might make the universe cry.
GARROSH: Yeah, uh, not so much. Think of them more as covering complementary parts of the idiot spectrum.
DONTRAG: <crestfallen> I’m…sorry, sir…
DRANOSH: So why are these two important again?
GARROSH: They’re not. They’re really, really not.
MOKVAR: Garrosh, if I could make a suggestion…we might actually want to bring them with us.
GARROSH: Dude, we’ve already watched the Burning Legion and Scourge overrun Orgrimmar, have we not suffered enough for one day?
MOKVAR: Well at least Utvoch. You know… <makes the “timey whimey” gesture again>
DONTRAG: Wait, why is he more important?
UTVOCH: Hah, suck it, Donty.
MOKVAR: More importantly, because of…you know who.
GARROSH: <eyes go wide a moment> Good point.
DRANOSH: Does someone want to fill me in?
GARROSH: Yeah. Right. Here’s the thing, Dranosh. Part of the idea I was talking about before, the way we might be able to undo everything that’s happened – it all depends on a human who was in Orgrimmar. A mage named Edwin Faranell. If we’re going to have any chance at all of doing this, we have to find him.
UTVOCH: Oh, hey, Edwin? But he’s still human now? It didn’t wear off or anything? I just figured he was still that way because of when that naaru soul crystal coldcocked him in the cellar.
DRANOSH: Okay, I’m going to give you thirty seconds to start making sense before I start taking an axe to you.
MOKVAR: Might as well save yourself thirty seconds and just kill him now.
GARROSH: POINT BEING. Utvoch knows Faranell, so he could be handy for helping look for him. Maybe.
DRANOSH: What’s so important about the mage?
GARROSH: It would take a really long time to explain. And a lot of it still wouldn’t make a lot of sense.
UTVOCH: It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me and I was there.
GARROSH: You just described LIFE for you.
UTVOCH: Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.
GARROSH: What’s important is that if we can’t find him, this whole plan is dead in the water.
MOKVAR: Last we saw him, he was on his way to the zeppelins with the last of the evacuees.
DRANOSH: Assuming he made it out, that would put him at either Thunder Bluff or Theramore.
GARROSH: Okay. So here’s the plan. I need some questions answered before we do anything else, and there’s only one place to get the answers. I’m going to take Mortimer here to Tanaris. I’ll need Mokvar with me. In the meantime, Dranosh, you’ve got to find Faranell.
DRANOSH: <grins half-heartedly> You’re the boss, Overlord. I’ll do a search in Theramore first and get our forces organized for a second front against the Legion. After that, I can head to Thunder Bluff.
GARROSH: We’ll meet you there after we’re done on our end.
DONTRAG: A question, Overlord?
GARROSH: <sighs> Yes, Dontrag.
DONTRAG: Who’s this Mortimer person?
“Wait, he named his wyvern ‘Mortimer’?” “I think that was already his name.” “Who gave it that name?” “I think they said he just already had it himself.” “How’s that possible? The wyvern named itself?” “I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?” “I don’t speak wyvern, Ut.” “You barely speak orcish, Donty.”
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.
GARROSH: Oops.
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.
GARROSH: Um.
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—
TEMBW’BAM: BAD IS GOOD, MON! DOWN WIT’ DA TWO-LEGS!
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.
Trails in the wilderness
Out in the middle of the Stranglethorn jungle, a ways north of Grom’gol, there’s a hill where a big chunk of zeppelin wreckage is jammed into what’s left of a tree. It’s been there for years – I guess at some point before the Horde had established settlements here, a goblin zeppelin crashed somewhere in the jungle. The chunk of wreckage stuck in the tree is all that’s left of it.
(By the by, is it my imagination, or do these goblin airships seem to crash an awful lot? How exactly did these flotatation-device-needing motherfuckers manage to land their zeppelin-service lifetime contract with Thrall?)
When Nimboya’s contacts in Bambala turned up in the form of that hunting party, they brought some news with them from that spot in the jungle. Seems that in the last day or two, some large piece of burlap has been flapping in the breeze from the wreckage, and loads of random pieces of armor have been turning up – both on some of the animals in the area, and laying around on the ground near the wreckage. Since that sounded familiar enough, I headed over to see if there was anything else that could lead us to that Tembw’bam fucker that the DEHTA hippies were talking about.
Hoo boy, was there. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
When I got there, sure enough, there were helmets and gauntlets scattered all around the place, along with a few stray swords and axes. Tattered cloth caught in the wreckage up above looked to be the remains of a standard frostweave bag. My best guess is that our boy was flying by with some bags full of armor and weapons, got one of the bags caught on the wreckage, tore it, out spills that bunch of his junk, and off he goes. Now, as for how the fucker managed to cram two swords, a couple axes, five helmets, some mail leggings, four pairs of boots, and a dozen gauntlets into a backpack…well, don’t ask me to explain the physics there. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve wondered that about someone, to be honest.
So I was scouting around the tree on the hill, looking through some of the gear that had dropped and trying to see if I could take a guess at which way the dude had been going, when lo and behold, a druid in flight form comes zipping over and tries to grab up some of the stuff in his talons. Of course I started off trying to reason with him. By which I mean drawing Gorehowl and showing him the reason why this whole shebang was a bad idea on his part. Or, well, tried too, because he was a dodgey son of a bitch. Fucking bird. He kept zipping around in the air, and smacked me a couple times with one of the gauntlets he was carrying, then turned into a cat and pounced on me, then he did some shit as a bear, then he was a cat again, then a bird, and more zipping around, and OMG fucking druids.
So yeah, that was annoying and all, but here’s the fucked-up part. While I was trying to smack him down, he was going on and on monologuing – only he wasn’t monologuing at ME. Dude just kept yammering on to himself, or to the other voice in his head, or whoever the fuck it was he thought he was talking to who wasn’t me. But he sure as fuck thought he was having a conversation with somebody, ranting and yelling and finding every single thing around him absolutely fucking hilarious to boot. And agreeing with himself a lot.
The one thing that came out of all the yammering was that I was able to confirm that the flappy fucker was who I thought he was – our prime suspect Tembw’bam. Seeing as he addressed himself by name like two or three times. The down side was that after we spent a few minutes mixing it up, he must have realized that it wasn’t happening – either that or the voice in his head remembered it had a meeting with Greatfather Winter and the Noblegarden Bunny – and he flew off. I hopped on Mortimer and took off after him, but he had already gotten a pretty good head start at that point, so I wasn’t able to catch up with him. I did see where he went off to, though. Last I saw him, he was flying into the ruins of Zul’Gurub.
I’m at the entrance to the ruins now, and just fired off a flare to get the rest of the crew down here. It shouldn’t take them long to arrive, and at that point we can head in and see what Captain Double-Speak is up to.
Tangerine trees and marmalade skies
So…didn’t get around to posting when I got back in yesterday. I wound up sleeping in late here at Warsong Hold, and I’m actually a little fuzzy as far as what happened after my last post from the DEHTA camp.
Mokvar was supposed to come meet me here in Northrend, but he wound up getting held up by some business back in Orgrimmar. Luckily, Saurfang had his own in-house scribe on hand to keep a record. See for yourself.
Scene: High Overlord’s Command Room, Warsong Hold
[High Overlord SAURFANG paces back and forth, dictating to ADELENE SUNLACE, Inscription Trainer and personal scribe.]
SAURFANG
…and so, Chieftain Icemist, with the Scourge thwarted and the Nerubian threat contained, I believe the time is right for us to begin the long-overdue work of reclaiming the lost settlements of your taunka brethren and securing them under the banner of the Horde. I look forward to our continued correspondence. Honor go with us all—
RAZGOR
[From outside.]
High Overlord!
TO’BOR
[Outside]
Make way, mon! We be coming’ t’rough!
[Enter OVERLORD RAZGOR, Executive Officer of Warsong Hold, and WIND MASTER TO’BOR, propping up a staggering WARCHIEF GARROSH HELLSCREAM between them. The Warchief’s personal wyvern wanders in behind them.]
GARROSH
HA! Oh man, watch that last step, it’s a bitch! HAHA!
SAURFANG
Warchief! Men, what’s happening here?
TO’BOR
Da Warchief came flyin’ in on his wyvern, sir, an’ done come down unsteady on the landin’ platform. He tumbled right offa da wyvern an’ stumbled over to da wall, an’ fell right over da edge, mon!
RAZGOR
I saw him come in from the ground, High Overlord. The Warchief would have been badly hurt at the least, if the wyvern hadn’t swooped down and broken his fall.
SAURFANG
Thank the spirits for that much. Are you all right, Warchief?
[Garrosh peers back at the High Overlord quizzically for a long moment, then breaks into a wide grin.]
GARROSH
You’re like, all pruney and shit, you know that, Saurfang? HAHAHA!
SAURFANG
Well, he appears to be in good spirits, at the very least.
RAZGOR
Yes, sir.
TO’BOR
His eyes be lookin’ all bloodshot, dough, sir. Mon.
SAURFANG
So I noticed. I believe you men can release him, in any case.
[Razgor and To’bor release their grips on Garrosh, who stumbles forward, looks around, then starts to teeter to either side with his arms flailing around at his sides.]
RAZGOR
Whoa, hold on!
TO’BOR
Whoopsie-daisy-mon!
[They catch Garrosh again and steady him, then carefully let him go again. The wyvern walks up close to Garrosh and leans against him lightly on one side.]
SAURFANG
To’bor, if you would, why don’t you escort the Warchief’s animal to the stables.
TO’BOR
Yessir. Mon.
[To’bor grasps the wyvern’s harness and tries to pull it toward the side hall. The wyvern doesn’t budge, and after several tugs of increasing force from To’bor, it snarls at To’bor and snaps at him, forcing him to jump back.]
TO’BOR
Okay den, now we jus’ got to show da wyvern who da boss here!
[To’bor grabs at the wyvern by the scruff of its neck and tries to pull it toward the floor. As he does so, the wyvern spins its body in the opposite direction, yanking him over it; while he is disoriented, the wyvern grabs the hood of his cloak in its teeth, flings him onto the floor on his back, and pins him in place with one paw pressed firmly on his chest.]
GARROSH
HAH! That’s awesome! That’s it, Mortimer, show ’im who’s the alpha up in his bitch! Hahahaheeeeee… [Snorts.]
[To’bor struggles to get out from under the wyvern’s paw without much success.]
SAURFANG
So, then…Warchief…since you are…well…
GARROSH
Varok, buddy, I’m fuckin’ fantastic. [Chuckles uncontrollably.]
SAURFANG
Yes, I see…
GARROSH
[Continuously laughing while talking.]
Va-rok, Vaaaa-rok…hey, do people ever call you Rokky? Haha…because they totally should! You look like you could be a Rokky, dude.
SAURFANG
[Sighs.]
Warchief, listen to me very carefully. While you were at the D.E.H.T.A. camp, did anyone, by chance, offer you a brownie?
GARROSH
Haha, dude, who DIDN’T offer me a brownie? And, and let me tell you, Rokky… Heh…heh HA… Um… Yeah, so. So those salads they got there are shit, but dude the fuckin’ brownies are AMAZING. I… I think I had… um… [He holds both hands in front of his face, and moves fingers on both hands as if counting silently.] Um, yeah, a LOT! Hahah!
SAURFANG
Oh dear.
TO’BOR
I coulda been tellin’ you dat, mon.
GARROSH
Oh and DUDE, lemme tell you, those things are fuckin’ scumptious. [He blinks.] Um. Scumptious? No…scruntious. Scuntious.. Sc-rrrrrunnnn-tious. DAMMIT! Scummmmm-ptious… UGH! Dammit my tongue won’t say it right!
SAURFANG
Suffice to say they were flavorful, and we move on, shall we, Warchief?
GARROSH
NO, fuck that shit, I’m not going to let my stupid uncooperative tongue beat me! Scuntious! DAMMIT! Scruntious—FUCK, almost! Scumptious! Scumptious! Scruntious! SCUNTIOUS! DAMMIT DEFIANT TONGUE!
[Garrosh brings both hands to his face and starts poking around his mouth angrily, eventually pinching his tongue between the fingers of one hand and holding it at full extension. With his other hand, he hurriedly reaches behind him and draws Gorehowl.]
RAZGOR
Whoa!
TO’BOR
What you be doin’, mon?!
GARROSH
YOU DITHHODDOR DE HORDE, INTHOLENT DONGUE!
SAURFANG
Hold him, men!
[Saurfang and Razgor, aided by the wyvern holding the back of Garrosh’s belt in its teeth, grapple with the Warchief and eventually manage to get Gorehowl away from him. To’bor tries to get up to offer his aid as well, but the wyvern thwarts his every attempt to rise by flattening him against the floor again emphatically.]
TO’BOR
Dis be a strong wyvern ya got here, mon…
SAURFANG
Now then…Warchief …did your visit to the D.E.H.T.A. camp elucidate the current conundrum?
GARROSH
What the who?
SAURFANG
Did…you learn anything?
GARROSH
OH YEAH!
SAURFANG
Ah, good. What news, then?
GARROSH
Have you been over there before?
SAURFANG
I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, no, Warchief.
GARROSH
Okay, so check it… [He stumbles shakily to Saurfang, puts one arm around his shoulder, and leans in close, then pokes at Saurfang’s chest with one finger every few words.] Okay. So. No matter…how sick you get of the salads… [He nods seriously a few times, then stares at Saurfang for several seconds.] What was I saying?
SAURFANG
Warchief?
[Garrosh continues his even stare for several seconds more, then looks around.]
SAURFANG
That would be you, sir.
GARROSH
What? OH YEAH, fuck, it is, right? HAHAHA, I’m Warchief – RECOGNIZE, bitches!
RAZGOR
Lok’tar!
TO’BOR
[Still pinned down by the wyvern.]
For da Horde!
[Saurfang glares at them impatiently and, behind Garrosh’s back, waves at them with one hand to stop.]
SAURFANG
So, Warchief… You were…starting to say about the D.E.H.T.A. camp? And…something about… [He sighs briefly.] …salads?
GARROSH
[His eyes go wide in recognition, and he resumes poking at Saurfang’s chest rapidly and energetically.]
OH YEAH! Fuckin’ hell yeah! SO! So, so, so, um… No matter how sick you get of the salads… If they offer you a burger… [His eyes widen as his face turns very serious.] DON’T.
[Saurfang watches him for a moment, purses his lips, then finally speaks.]
SAURFANG
Warchief…did they know anything pertaining to the problem of the armed animals across the various zones?
GARROSH
HOLY SHIT THEY DID, HOW DID YOU KNOW?! [Stares wide-eyed a moment, then starts laughing hysterically.]
SAURFANG
And…sir…what did they tell you?
GARROSH
Okay, okay, so. SO. They were talking ’bout this…nutjob druid who was nutjobby even for them, right? Like this guy was such a big animal lover, he didn’t even like shifting out of his animal forms, you know?
SAURFANG
Yes, sir…
GARROSH
Like…like… LIKE A BEAR! RAAAARRR!!! HahahahahaHA! Rar.
SAURFANG
Yes, sir.
GARROSH
Hahahahahahaaaa… Like a bear! RAR!
SAURFANG
[Rubs his forehead.]
Yes, sir. Like a bear.
[Garrosh leans against Saurfang, putting his face on the High Overlord’s shoulder, and laughing hysterically for a few moments.]
SAURFANG
Warchief…please try to focus. Was there anything else?
[Garrosh straightens up suddenly, and teeters for a moment. Razgor runs over close in anticipation of the Warchief falling over backwards.]
GARROSH
OOPS! Haha! Um, yeah, okay. SO. Um… So yeah, I’ve got a name to check up on, and one of them, the birdy lady what’s-her-face, um, she said the guy used to talk a lot about Stranglethorn Vale, and plus…um…yeah, what with him being a troll, he might be wandering around in the jungle there.
SAURFANG
Well, that’s a promising lead at least, Warchief.
GARROSH
Right you are, Rokky! HAHA! Vaaaa-rok! Varok Varok Varok! OH HEY! There once was a warrior named Varok!
TO’BOR
Here we go, mon…
GARROSH
Who passed on all servings of hamhock!
SAURFANG
True, I do not eat pork.
RAZGOR
Is that a religious thing?
SAURFANG
No, I just don’t dig on swine, that’s all.
GARROSH
Now I won’t deceive you —
He’ll pummel and cleave you,
And leave your sad ass really shellshocked.
EPIC VERSE![Garrosh throws both hands into the air as he yells “EPIC VERSE!!!” When he finishes the roar, he loses his balance and spills flat onto the floor, face-down.]
SAURFANG
Warchief! Are you all right?
GARROSH
[Slightly muffled from his face being on the floor.]
You know, this map on the floor looks fucking HUGE from down here! HAHA! [Punches the floor a few times while laughing.] You know what you need down here? One of those big fur rugs. Like…LIKE A BEAR! HAHAHA!
SAURFANG
Yes, sir…
RAZGOR
Like a bear.
TO’BOR
Rar, mon.
SAURFANG
What was that, anyway, Warchief?
GARROSH
What do you mean, what was that? That was EPIC VERSE! HAHAHA!
SAURFANG
I’m not sure I understand…
RAZGOR
Do you not read the blog?
SAURFANG
I rarely ever use that infernal machine.
GARROSH
Oh oh oh oh OH DUDE, you should totally get on the computer more, I could totally hook you up on Earth Online!
SAURFANG
Should I know what that is?
RAZGOR
It’s this thing on the internet.
GARROSH
Yeah, dude, it’s a really cool game.
SAURFANG
A…game?
GARROSH
Yeah, a computer game!
SAURFANG
And…you play this game, sir?
GARROSH
Hell yeah! I’m totally gonna sent you a RAF link after this. HAH that sounds funny — RAAAAAF hahaha…
SAURFANG
Warchief…you’re thirty-four years old.
GARROSH
RAAAAAAAAAFFFFFFFFF… HAHAHAA… [Slapping his hands randomly on the floor while he laughs.]
SAURFANG
Come now, Warchief.
[Saurfang and Razgor help Garrosh back to his feet. As they lift him, Garrosh points to a spot on the floor and bursts out laughing again.]
GARROSH
Hey Saurfang! Hey! Check it, see that spot right there? That’s…hehehe…that’s the EXACT. SPOT. Where you told me that time…haha… where you told me you’d kill me before you let me lead the Horde to ruin!
[Garrosh leans against Saurfang, laughing hysterically while draping one arm each over Saurfang and Razgor, letting them hold him up. As his laughter grows weaker, he pulls them closer to him on either side.]
GARROSH
[Sob-laughing.]
I fuckin’ love you guys!
SAURFANG
[Aside.]
I’m sure Thrall had his reasons…
So, yeah. Maybe not the proudest day for me, but whatever. At least we’ve got a lead and can see about tracking down this loose cannon druid guy. Not sure what’s up with Saurfang’s scribe funky-ass formatting, but I guess not everybody’s going to do things Mokvar-style. If it works for Saurfang, fine.
I’ll be heading back to Orgrimmar. First, though, I need to see what they’ve got to eat around here. I’m fucking STARVING, dude. Not to mention, my sides are fucking killing me.
“Kids these days and their felweed…”
If they get out a hacky sack, I’m going home
So after what Hamuul and Antlers were saying about the critters in Mulgore maybe getting their weapons from a druid in animal form, I got to thinking. If there’s a druid responsible for this, it’s probably not one of the Cenarion people, seeing as Hamuul usually stays on top of shit better than that, and it’s probably not one of Antlers’ Guardian types up in Hyjal, unless Ysera is really falling asleep on the job. (SEE WHAT I DID THERE?) So that rules out most of your typical mainstream druids. If a druid is behind this, it’s got to be somebody from the pro-animal druid lunatic fringe. And when you’re talking about the pro-animal druid lunatic fringe, it doesn’t get any fringier than DEHTA.
So, guess where I’m writing from, through the wonders of wireless internet. That’s right – right this very minute I’m up in the Borean Tundra, paying the DEHTA fuckers a visit. I’m at their camp right now, mostly trying to figure out what the weird herbal smell around here is.
I was hoping I would get to talk to Lather-on-us – ever since he got it into his demented head that I’d gone vegetarian (HA!), he’s been at least vaguely bearable to deal with. But, come to find out, he was off working on something away from the camp when I got here. Nobody seems too clear on when he’s going to be back, so I guess I’m just going to have to make due with the other DEHTA people for now.
Thing is, sad as this will sound, Lather-on-us is probably the most stable one of the bunch. With him gone, check out the crew I’ve got to deal with.
You’ve got Hierophant Cenius, who’s more or less running the store with the big guy away, and can’t seem to get through a sentence without saying “you dig, man?” and snapping her fingers like 53 times.
Then you’ve got…well…I don’t even know what his real name is, but he sits around all day wearing this retarded murloc getup, and only answers to “King Mrgl-Mrgl.” I guess he’s actually a night elf, and had been sent to watch the Winterfin murlocs up north, only the murlocs embraced him and made him king and then he went native or some shit. Then, the last time I was up here, Mortimer helped himself to a murloc buffet and pretty much wiped out this guy’s constituency, so now he’s back here at the camp without much to do. Other than make retarded gargling sounds.
There’s Zaza, a frost nymph, which I’m not going to mess around with at all after the other day because NYMPHS BE CRAZY.
And then you’ve got Killinger the Den Watcher, or as I like to call him Killinger the Obsessive-Compulsive, who doesn’t seem to remember that he’s able to shift out of bear form, and more importantly, doesn’t seem to remember that he’s able to use soap, because holy shit, seriously. Honest to fuck, dude, the patchouli oil isn’t fooling anyone. Now I know what you’re thinking on this one – druid stuck in animal form, maybe this is our guy. I was thinking that too, only that brings us to our next item, the whole obsessive-compulsive thing. Dude just keeps walking in a circle around the middle of the camp, counting to himself out loud. “One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand,” on and on and on. Just in the time I’ve been here he’s gotten up to 3219.
At one point when he rolled over 2000, I decided to mess with him, and started yelling random numbers. He got all spastic for a second, then walked back to this one spot in the camp, nodded his head three times, then started circling the same old path while counting off “one thousands” again. I waited for him to crack 1000 and started doing the random numbers again. Same deal – walked back to the exact same spot, three nods, went back to circling, “one one thousand, two one thousand.” I am willing to roll the dice on this guy not being our diabolical mastermind.
So this is Lather-on-us’ braintrust. Hard to believe Hemet Nesingwary is still up and kicking, isn’t it?
Anyway, I’ve been hanging around here for a while now, trying to choke down a salad that doesn’t even have the common decency to have bacon bits on it. The DEHTA fuckers have been friendly enough mostly, but it’s hard as hell to keep them on topic, and then when I get irritated and try to respectfully suggest that they could maybe try pulling their heads out of their fucking asses for like two minutes, they start calling me “Herbert” over and over, whatever that means, and then chuckle like morons. All I’ve been able to get out of them so far is that they don’t seem to know anything about animals being armed, but a few months ago there used to be some new guy hanging out with them, a troll named Tembw’bam, who was all about animal liberation and fighting The (hu)Man(oids), and “any means necessary,” and eventually he got them all going “Whew, this guy’s crazy,” and they sent him on his way. Which, seriously, when the fucking DEHTA people think you’re a nutjob? Time to say “check please” to life, dude.
They’re not sure what happened to him, though. They think one of their other people, Hierophant Liandra, might remember a little more, but she’s out patrolling for trappers right now. They think she should be back soon, so I’m going to hang around the camp here for a little longer, or at least until I get too sick of these people to keep it up. Thank goodness for the internet, is all I’m going to say. You peeps on Twitter? You know who you are – right now you are single-handedly keeping my sanity. Because what the holy FUCK is a tofu burger? Ffs.
Secret stash of the animal kingdom
After the mind-fuckery of the whole Faranell situation, I decided I could stand to have a little time to step away and clear my head. So I shoveled the latest batch of paperwork off on Eitrigg (who has been LOVING ME, let me tell you, since I realized I could get away with sticking him with that kind of stuff) and got my gear together for a fishing trip. Used to do that all the time with Dranosh back in Nagrand, not so much the last few years since I suddenly turned into a grown-up and had to be all responsible and shit. Guess that’s just the price you pay for being successful.
When I headed upstairs to get Mortimer, Gurtash was there cleaning his stall, so I figured what the hell, the kid probably doesn’t get to go on a lot of fishing trips, so I invited him along. We flew over to the Southfury River, and skipped across to the Barrens side. There’s an old dock there, not far from Nozzlepot’s Outpost, that’s pretty convenient for fishing. We camped out there for a little while, and right off, the kid lands himself a 17-pound catfish. That’s all I needed, a cocky 13-year-old, right?
We fished for a while, and then at one point Gurtash decided to stretch his legs some and ran around a little near the dock. Not too far, still within sight of me…which was a good thing, since while he was zipping around, he managed to catch the attention of one of those lions that wander around that part of the Barrens. And so here comes the lion trying to chew on Gurtash. I charged over and smacked the lion down – no biggie, I didn’t even have to draw a weapon to do it, just whoosh, pow, dead.
None of this was any big deal, but after I dropped the lion, I noticed something kind of weird.
The lion had a pair of worn mail boots. And when I say “had,” I’m not saying he had them stuffed in his pockets or something, because guess what, lions DON’T HAVE FUCKING POCKETS, so just to make sure you’re getting the full picture, the lion ws WEARING them. On its back feet. Which…you know…strikes me as a little strange for a lion.
I took a couple minutes to WTF over that, but then I just shrugged it off and went back to fishing. Thing is, though, once we were back at the dock, it didn’t take too long before a crocolisk from the river decided that Gurtash smelled awful tasty, and came trudging on up after him. So once again, Garrosh to the one-shot rescue.
And, um, after the croc was dead, we noticed it was wearing a…barbaric loincloth.
Kind of odd, wouldn’t you say?
I thought it was a tiny bit peculiar.
Didn’t really see that one coming.
Nope, sure didn’t.
Oh, and also…
WHY WOULD A FUCKING CROCOLISK HAVE A FUCKING LOINCLOTH?!?!
I don’t think it’ll come as a shock to anyone that all this started getting me pretty weirded out and curious. So I finished up the last batch of fishing with Gurtash, got him all strapped in on Mortimer, and sent them both back to Orgrimmar. Once they were on their way, I took a little time to do a little hunting, and wound up littering the area around the Southfury with a decent-sized batch of dead crocolisks, lions, and raptors.
The outcome? A lot of them didn’t have much of anything on them, other than claws and fangs and the usual animaly crap. But out of a couple dozen dead animals, I wound up finding a cloth vest, a pair of brackwater boots, some mail soldier’s gauntlets, some amulet on one of the crocolisks, and, maybe even more disturbingly, a blunt claymore, a curved dagger, and a birchwood maul.
Which…um…kind of raises the question, why would animals be wandering around with all this shit?
Has anybody else been running into this problem? Finding animals carrying stuff around with them that makes not a single fucking bit of sense for an animal to have? This actually isn’t a rhetorical question – I want to know if other people have been seeing this or if I’m just crazy. So, everybody reading this, chime in if this sounds at all familiar, and let me know what you’ve run across and where. Comment on this post, e-mail me (garrosh1337@gmail.com), shoot me a tweet, whatever. I want to figure out what the hell is going on here, and the only way I’m going to do that is if I get as much information as I can.
So, you heard me, get commenting if you’ve seen something! And you know what, if you HAVEN’T seen something? Get out there and go all Nesingwary on some animals just to make sure, then check back here! YOUR WARCHIEF HAS SPOKEN.
Monday mailbag
Okay, I haven’t tended to the mail in a little while since we were, you know, dislocated in the time-space continuum. But we’ve got a few letters that have come in lately, so before anything else happens that gets me all distracted, let’s see what we’ve got…
I would dearly love to find out what happened to Koltira Deathweaver. He died defending Silvermoon, you know. I enjoyed working with him in Agmar’s Hammer, and again on Ogrim’s Hammer. I heard that he disappeared under mysterious circumstances right after we ran the Alliance out of Andorhal. But that’s all I know. Something’s not quite right here, though. My sources here are usually pretty good, but when I bring up Koltira, they invariably change the subject.
The guy you want to talk to about Bowling for Wildhammer is Malkar over in Bloodgulch. It’s not actually bowling, though, it’s more like fishing. You toss a hook up in the air, snag a gryphon, and haul the rider down to you. Then, you wear him out. Lather, rinse, repeat. A fine way to while away a dull afternoon. But I’m not sure how closely Zaela looks into what goes on in Bloodgulch. She may well know nothing about this.
–A Concerned Citizen
Hey, ACC. Thanks for the explanation of the whole Bowling for Wildhammer thing. I’m definitely going to have to take a trip out there and check it out. Granted, yanking dwarves out of the sky and curbstomping them isn’t going to be quite as fun or satisfying as, say, humans or gnomes, but hey, it’s Alliance and it’s curbstomping. Can’t rightly complain about that.
As for Koltira…yeah, I’d like to know what the deal is with him, too. I’ve been trying to find out for a while now, in fact. Bragor Bloodfist down in the Undercity has been under orders to find out what happened to him, seeing as Sylvanas and her people were the last ones to see Koltira before he went off the grid. He hasn’t been able to get any answers, though, and considering he’s got his own whole set of issues down there, I’m not sure whether it’s a matter of there not being any answers to be had or of him just not having his head in the right place. I mean seriously, I ask him for a Koltira update, and he babbles on about Sylvanas going off to the little ghouls’ room and being gone for like an hour. Like I need to know the details of her bathroom breaks. Maybe she’s got an irritable colon or something, who knows. I know mine gets plenty irritable with some of the morons I have to deal with in this job.
We all know you’re a big fan of lemon squares (who isn’t, am I right?). Do you have any other favourite foods?
Your fan,
–Salaria
One word, Salaria: bacon. Everything goes good with bacon. Everything. There is not one single recipe out there – I DARE YOU TO PROVE ME WRONG – that isn’t improved by adding bacon. Need convincing? Name any kind of food you can think of, and tell me it wouldn’t sound even better if you stuck “bacon-wrapped” in front of it. SEE? Hell, if you offered to give me “bacon-wrapped cancer,” I’d have to at least think about it.
Of course, even granting that everything goes great with bacon, the thing that goes absolute BEST with bacon? More bacon.
Honorable mention: peanut butter. Most of the above applies, plus it’s really handy for when I have to give Mortimer a pill from the vet, and in general it’s just hilarious to watch a wyvern chawing away on it while it’s sticking to the roof of his mouth. Sometimes I’ll give him a big spoon of the stuff, and while he’s munching away, Gurtash will make up dialogue that Mortimer could be saying, since his mouth will be flapping open and closed almost like he’s talking. Good times.
I been doin’ dat regular errand for Marogg da infantry chef, where he be askin’ us ta steal Darkspear rice from da trolls in da Valley of Spirits. I been tinkin’ dis be a real smart move, mon, keepin’ da trolls underfed and hungry. All you I mean we orcs know da only way we be keepin’ da trolls down is if we keep dem weakened – we let ’em eat well and get strong an’ for sure dey be takin’ over da Horde! We all know dere be no way we be holdin’ dem down if dey at full strength! Good goin’ dere, mon!
–Bob, Echo Isles
Wait, wait, hold on a minute. You’re trying to tell me, you think the only reason the orcs are able to maintain our position of dominance within the Horde is because we use sketchy methods to keep any potential rivals weak? You’re saying we couldn’t stay in charge if the fucking TROLLS had three squares a day (along with whatever extra snacks they’re having because, you know, munchies)?
Well FUCK THAT SHIT.
I’ll SHOW you how fast we’d lose control if the trolls weren’t hungry all the time! Marogg was supposed to be gathering up that rice to make jambalaya, right? Well I’m issuing him orders RIGHT THIS MINUTE to have half that jambalaya delivered right over to the troll district. What’s more, I’m ordering Borstan the butcher to start scheduling regular deliveries of assorted meats to the Valley of Spirits, maybe let those scrawny fuckers get some protein for once, and then for good measure, I’m even having Shan’ti arrange to have some fruits and vegetables – why someone would want to eat those is beyond me, but whatever – sent over when there’s a decent crop.
You think the trolls would take over if we didn’t keep them weakened? BULLSHIT, the trolls don’t need our help to be weak, they came out of the box that way, so just you fucking watch and see what happens – or DOESN’T happen – when they can’t cry starvation anymore!
Go head, fatten ’em up, feed ’em all they can choke down, see how much good it does them! You hear me? That’s an order! Feed those trolls!
Attn: Garrosh Hellscream, Horde Warchief
c/o Orgrimmar, Durotar KLM
Pursuant to Stormwind Revenue Statute LC14-99A17, subsection A4:
This letter hereby notifies the above named GARROSH HELLSCREAM (hereafter “DEBTOR”) of funds owed to the Stormwind Treasury, as per investigations conducted under authority of this office:
- Debtor initially accrued debt under alias G. PATRICK SEITZ in the amount of 120 gold in unpaid charges at Kelly’s Inn and Tavern, Southshore, Hillsbrad Foothills EKD.
- Proprietor Herman Kelly, esq. (hereafter “PLAINTIFF”) filed legal claim against one G. PATRICK SEITZ in the amount of 144 gold in rental and late fees.
- Lordaeron Circuit Court 23 ruled in favor of plaintiff in amount of 144 gold; additionally 216 gold in legal fees, 150 gold fine for failure to appear at hearing and 50 gold in punitive damages. Total debt incurred 560 gold.
- Debtor failed to appear before court on three statutory appeal dates as per Lordaeron Small Claims Code 19C, classification 4 (Brill Act). Upon expiration of appeal period, debtor incurred mandatory penalties of 407 gold, 611 gold and 1215 gold for missed payment dates.
- Funds owed to plaintiff were reimbursed from Lordaeron Treasury under Small Business Shelter Provision 2219-A; debtor’s account was placed in collection. Mandatory fine of 117 gold incurred.
- Collection duties assumed by Stormwind Agency of Taxation and Recovery under Disaster Provision Act after unexpected decease and necrotic resuscitation of entire fiduciary authority of Lordaeron government.
- Debtor accrued additional debts in the mount of 117 gold monthly for failure to pay fines; additionally cumulative interest fees at rates of 14 to 23% per annum as dictated by Stormwind Variable Rate Index.
As of current date, debtor owes funds to RATR in amount of 49,758 gold.
Please remit funds to RATR, Stormwind, within 30 days of receipt of this notice. Additional penalties may apply upon failure to comply.
–Royal Agency of Taxation and Recovery, Stormwind City
(Routing path: Southshore; Tarren Mill; Lordaeron; Androhal; Stormwind; Theramore; Gadgetzan; Caverns of Time; Ratchet)
What.
The fuck.
Is THIS?
Okay, so hold up. You mean to tell me, when we high-tailed it out of Southshore – and yeah, we didn’t bother paying at the inn when we took off, because guess what, we had some other shit to do that was kind of important – Kelly (Herman? Seriously? Fucking HERMAN?) went to the trouble of filing a lawsuit and keeping after it to try to get back the fucking pocket change we owed him?
And okay, I know what you guys are probably thinking, how the hell did they even manage to trace this back to me in the first place, seeing as I was using an alias and a human face and WAS TRAVELING THROUGH FUCKING TIME. But you know what, really, you shouldn’t be surprised that they managed to find me, because TAX COLLECTORS. Those fuckers will see through time and space like it’s nothing and track you through the Twisted Nether and OMG maybe I should get some of THEM to try to find fucking Koltira!
Anyway, Stormwind tax dudes working under royal authority, I was going to send you an I.O.U. for the gold, but on second thought I figure it would be a lot better to take this occasion to publicly offer you an F.Y.V.
That’s right.
Everyone say it with me.
Darkmoon day trip
So while we’re waiting on updates from Hillsbrad, I’m catching a little much-needed R&R time. Gurtash from the orphanage was taking care of Mortimer while I dealt with that whole to-do at the Caverns of Time, so after I got back, I got the idea that it might be nice to do something for Gurtash for all the time he’s spent wyvern-sitting. So, I checked him out of the orphanage for a little while, rounded up Mortimer, and brought him over to Mulgore. What better reward for the kid than a day at the Darkmoon Faire?
So we spent a while wandering around the faire, loading up on hot dogs and cotton candy and one of those giant orange slurpy drink thingies. I tried playing this Whack-a-Gnoll game they had – figured I could try to win Gurtash a toy or something – but Mola the carnie got all upset and said I had to leave the game area. And personally I don’t think it’s MY fault that she did not explain clearly enough that I had to use the stupid foam hammer they gave me, instead of Gorehowl. I just figured they provided the hammer for the people who didn’t think ahead to bring their own weapon. So yeah, she asked me to leave the area, after I filled out some form for where they can send the bill. Whatever. Fucking Hogger.
At least I only destroyed the fake wood-and-straw gnolls, though, rather than the LIVE one they had hanging around. They’ve got this gnoll named Sayge tucked away in a tent in one corner, giving out fortunes to people after they answer some “what would you do?” type questions. Gurtash got a fortune that said “Hopes are like wyverns: care for them and they will carry you when you’re too tired to go on.” Which, hey, good call on the wyvern thing, so you’d think Sayge knew his stuff, but then mine didn’t make a damn bit of sense – “From within it consumes,” like what the fuck? So I clocked him.
Then I had to sign some more forms.
Anyway, after that we found the petting zoo, and boy did the kid flip out at that point. I wasn’t so sure about the zoo at first, since the first pen had a bunch of gorlocs, which I had MORE than my fill of up in Northrend, because like I think I’ve mentioned, THOSE things are like what would happen if a murloc fucked a kangaroo. But then I heard them prattling on about wondering when the tour would start, and realized somebody had tricked the stupid bouncy fuckers into thinking they were VISITING the zoo and not IN it, and that’s actually hella funny awesome, so okay.
Anyway, they had a bunch of pretty jumbo-sized animals, like this gorilla Gargantua, and a basilisk named Krystal which for some reason had a carnie-shaped crystal in his pen with…oh WAIT a minute! HAH! Um, anyway. We looked around at some more of the animals, plus this big green slime thing that kept trying to spit at me through the bars of its cage. Between the spitting slime and the animal poop, I tell you, you don’t know where to step half the time in that place.
Across from the slime, they had another pen with a huge wooly rhino named Crush. We were looking at him, when all of a sudden I felt something clang off the back of my head – the shock of it knocked me forward, and made me fling my orange slurpy drink into the pen and all over the rhino. Which…yeah, another bill for animal shampoo if they notice that, too. When I looked to see what it was, though, it turned out I’d been hit by a Happy Fun Rock that some kids at the faire were tossing around – and by the time I looked, the kids had gotten their rock back, and Gurtash was making fast friends with them, and next thing you know he was racing off to run around the faire grounds with the bunch of them. And so I’m stuck sitting there between the rhino and the ooze yelling at him to come finish the tour of the petting zoo, but does he listen? No, of course not. Fine, be that way. Follow me, don’t follow me, whatever. I’ve got my slime, I’ve got my orange Crush.
So while Gurtash was running around with the other kids, I looked around the faire a little myself – and found the most awesome thing ever. The Darkmoon Deathmatch! Get this. They have this event where they put a prize in this chest in the middle of a big cage, right? And at a certain time every day, the chest unlocks so that the prize can be picked up by anyone in the cage, only the inside of the cage is a free-for-all combat zone – so in order to claim the prize, you have to fight off anyone else who happens to be in there!
Wait, did I say you HAVE to? Make that, you GET to.
I just happened to get there like ten minutes before the chest was going to unlock, and hey, look at all the humans and gnomes and draenei running around inside the cage. LOK’TAR, bitches, the DELI COUNTER OF PAIN IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS AND GIVING OUT NUMBERS. Hell yeah!
So, fast forward ten minutes for the fighting and two minutes for wading in and out through the heaps of mutilated bodies, and I’ve got my prize voucher.
The good: A quick trip to the prize-claim tent, and I had a great, big, hard-won goodie to hand off to Gurtash when he got back from running around with his new friends.
The bad: When he DID get back, turns out that two of his friends were a human kid named Michael and a draenei kid (LITERALLY) named Duquan…whose parents I, um, may or may not have just brutally slaughtered in the Deathmatch cage.
The worse: The goodie in question happened to be a giant pink teddy bear. Which I had to carry around the faire grounds until Gurtash turned up again. Which he didn’t do for like an hour and a half.
So, yeah.
Monday mailbag
So not only have I not really done a decent mailbag in a while (the last one really opened up a pretty big can of worms, to be fair), but in light of recent events, I actually have a pretty serious influx of stuff to respond to. Let’s get right to the mail…
In light of everything you’ve been going through, I decided to take a trip to Demon Fall Canyon to pay my respects to Grom and Lakkara both. I’ve included a picture of myself at Grom’s monument below. Also, while you were traveling to Nagrand this week, I took the liberty of writing a post on the blog to encourage your readers to do the same. Hopefully they’ll follow my lead and send you some photographic proof that we’re all behind you, and thinking of you while you deal with everything that’s happened.
If you ever need anything,
–Spazzle Fizzletrinket, Orgrimmar
Thanks, Spazzle. Much appreciated. As it turns out, a bunch of other people did follow your lead, and my inbox ended up sort of flooded with e-mails and links from people chronicling their own visits. Here’s a smattering from folks who didn’t include an actual letter:
And a bunch here that Leit over at int i; posted as part of a full blog entry on the…well…pilgrimages, I guess, that Spazzle set off:
Condolences on the … recent disturbing events. It’s hard enough to lose a parent once, let alone twice. Know that the Horde grieves with you.
In other news, guess who I ran into the other day? None other than Faranell, the “new guy” in your guild. One of your Kor’kron guards has developed a rather innovative method for controlling the pace of Faranell’s research. He occasionally punts an abomination’s head into the sewers.
That’s Faranell in the middle, and Overseer Kraggosh on the right. He seems to be doing a fine job.
And lastly, Bowling for Wildhammer. You should try it.
(And yes, that’s an atypical hairstyle for one of us. I learned long ago that long, flowing locks and high-torque power shafts DO NOT play well together.)
–A Concerned Citizen
Hey ACC, good to hear from you, and thanks for the show of support. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, but I’ll manage. Granted, I’ll sleep a lot better once ol’ You-Know-Who is finally captured and properly dismembered.
Speaking of dissected bodies, thanks as well for checking in on things in the Undercity. Did you happen to see any signs of Koltira Deathweaver while you were down there, by the way? Haven’t heard from him in months, and last anybody heard he was helping Sylvanas with some stuff out in the Plaguelands. Anyway…I’m sure the boys are keeping things under control down there. I’m still not totally sold on Bragor Bloodfist and the job he’s doing with the watching-Sylvanas-but-not-necessarily-in-the-right-way, but I’m sure Overseer Kraggosh is taking care of business. I actually gave him the Apothecarium assignment deliberately, in the hopes that maybe working down there could help grease the wheels on moving him up on the list of potential “donor” organ recipients. Not to jinx things, but the guy has a really bad family history, heart disease and such, to the point that most of the family pretty much treats it as a foregone conclusion. Want to know how bad it is? The name “Kraggosh”? Means “Heart of Cholesterol” in orcish. Yeah.
Also, Bowling for Wildhammer? You’ve got to fill me in on this one. Strangely enough, for all the meetings I’ve had with Zaela, somehow she never mentioned this little diversion in Twilight Highlands. Seriously, they’ve got some kind of blood sport out there called Bowling for Wildhammer, and she’s wasting my time trying to fucking push some damn SUSHI place on me over and over? The fuck?
Spazzle suggested we attempt to cheer you up by sending you letters and pictures of us honoring your dearly departed father and mother. I kept trying to take decent shots, but my stupid pet kept ruining my pictures. The attached one is the best one I have with out any sort of shenanigans.
While I am writing I would like to ask you a question. Have you ever considered settling down and starting a family? I am from the Armripper clan who has made a good showing in all the conflicts. I am young but not too young. I was a part of the events in Northrend and was there to help kill the Litch King. I was also helpful in bringing down Deathwing and the Twilight Cult.
The only deal breaker for me is that I must be able to keep my full stable of pets near me (ie in the house at all times). I love my pets so much and would never be able to settle down with a man that did not respect that. I have 25 of them, mostly large felines of various colorings. Each one is precious to me.
Awaiting your reply,
–Toka Armripper
Oh great. We’ve got another one.
I actually think I remember you from Northrend, Toka, from when I joined the troops in Icecrown Citadel to deliver Hellscream’s Warsong. My memory’s a little fuzzy on one point, though — you weren’t on of those fuckers who had a problem with the Warsong and wanted me to stop singing, were you? Because I’ll tell you in no uncertain terms, I have an enchanting singing voice, I don’t care what any of you people say.
I’m also totally fine with the pet thing. I mean, 25 cats is maybe a bit much, especially since you say you’re young, seeing as the Crazy Cat Lady thing usually doesn’t start kicking in until middle age at the earliest. (Also, that thing you said about being “young, but not too young”? Is this your way of telling me that you’re, you know, legal? Because assuming we’re talking over 18 here, “too young”? Ain’t no such thing. If there’s grass on the field, play ball.) But I get the appeal of pets — obviously I’m pretty attached to Mortimer, and he would definitely be a dealbreaker for me too, and I also have my worg Malak, who doesn’t get as much press as Mortimer does but also isn’t negotiable. So I get it.
That said, gotta be honest, I haven’t really given a whole lot of thought to settling down any time soon. For one thing, I have way too many things to focus on that are a lot bigger than just me. I have a war to win and humans to exterminate and the glorious future of an Azeroth-dominating Horde to secure, and my time and energy is going to be a lot better spent on that stuff than running around filling out a gift registry (which by the way, am I the only one who thinks that’s a fucking tacky idea in the first place? “Hey, here’s a list of the stuff we want you to buy us, because getting married all of sudden means we get to act like we’re 10 years old and everyone we know is Greatfather fucking Winter”) and getting measured for a tux. Which, also by the way, I don’t do bow ties. Chafe my neck something awful.
But even beyond that, have you SEEN Thrall since he got married? Look, I didn’t always agree with him, but even I wouldn’t hesitate to admit the guy was a badass. Now? Have you seen how he lets Aggra lead him around by the nose? I mean hell, even when he was busy fighting Deathwing, there he was, him and the Aspects and a collection of some of the Horde’s greatest champions, and they narrowly pull off this nail-biter victory that saves the world, and right in their moment of glory and triumph who just SHOWS THE FUCK UP like she OWNS the place? Yeah. Aggra. No thanks.
Besides, why would I want to settle down? Let’s be honest here — there’s a reason why I’ve ended up having to replace my bed upstairs in Grommash Hold 37 times since I took over as Warchief, and believe you me, it ain’t faulty craftsmanship.
Thunderlord Stronghold
While I’m here in Outland, I figured I would make a few stops and see what’s been going on out here since I left for Azeroth. Today I flew up to Thunderlord Stronghold in Blade’s Edge Mountains today and paid a visit to Rexxar. I knew Rexxar mostly by reputation before he moved out here years ago, and we ended up meeting briefly a couple times before I wound up making the move to Azeroth to take charge of the Northrend campaign. He remembered me well enough, although it would be nice if I could maybe meet him at some point and have him refer to me some way other than “Oh yeah, Grom’s kid.”
I tried floating the idea of him coming back to Orgrimmar with me and taking a position as an advisor, but he wasn’t interested in leaving Blade’s Edge or getting himself tangled up in politics. Can’t really blame him on that one. I think he told Thrall the same once before, which I can respect, although it’s kind of a waste for as big a badass as him to just be hanging out here in the middle of nowhere.
Mostly, though, we ended up talking animals. Pretty much as soon as I got there, Rexxar’s bear Misha took a liking to Mortimer, and the two of them spent most of the day chasing each other around playing. Which got Rexxar and I talking about them, and if you know people who have pets – or are one yourself – you know what happens when you get two pet people together. Worse than people with kids…not least of all because people who have kids don’t really give a shit about what the other people have to say about theirs. They mostly just nod politely until it’s their turn to talk about their own little snot-nose. Pet people, though, they just eat up each other’s stories, and they’ll yammer on all day if you let them. Poor Gor’drek and Nekthar made themselves pretty scarce pretty fast.
Funny story, though – turns out, while Rexxar was still living in Kalimdor and wandering around in Feralas and Desolace, somehow or other he ran into that forest nymph Mylune. Which is never a good thing when you’re traveling with a furry animal. So…I’m sure you can fill in this part…she right off started getting all grabby and huggy with Misha. But here’s where it gets great – Misha would have none of that shit, and after she went and ignored a “You might not want to do that” from Rexxar, the bear fucking MAULED her. HAH! So we had a good old time comparing fail-notes on that nutjob.
Also talked a little to Tor’chunk Twoclaws (yeah, that really is the dude’s name, and yeah, I feel for him too) (*chortle*), who tells me the ogre troubles they used to have up there have quieted down a lot the last couple years. Seeing as we always had all kinds of headaches with the ogres down in Nagrand, I’m always kind of interested in how people in other areas have been getting on with the fat fuckers. According to Tor’chunk (honestly, not trying to be mean, but I just can’t get past that name), the Bladespire ogres up there recognized a new king a ways back – something about someone gaining the blessing of Ogri’la, which the Bladespires talk about like some mysterious, mystical place even though it’s right there on the fucking maps. Since then they seem to have calmed down a lot. I’m kind of curious about this, to tell you the truth, so I might have to swing by and introduce myself to this new king guy, one leader to another. Because I’m nothing if not a smooth diplomat.
[Header image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks. Click here to see the souped-up Postcard version!]
