Tag Archives: mount hyjal
Tweeting dryad, bleating crone
So, a quick aside.
Not to derail this whole thing that’s going on with Mokvar and Blackrock Spire, but after last time, with that little cameo we have from Little Miss Crazy-Nymph up in Hyjal, hoo boy, did the shit ever hit the fan on Twitter. It started innocently enough with a comment from reader and frequent commenter Shen Wei Pureblossom, and… um… things went downhill fast. Including appearances from a bunch of familiar faces.
And…well…here:
Heh. Hehehe HA!
I tell you, Magatha getting fucked with never, ever gets old.
Resuming our regularly scheduled…stuff…soon.
[A huge thank you to @ShadoPanShammy, @Mylune_, @Ji_Firepaw, @Wyvern_Mortimer (yes, really), and @M_Grimtotem — all of whom you should follow, by the way — both for providing the enormous entertainment that was this exchange, and for allowing me to reproduce it here. More Twitter lunacy to follow in short order, I’m sure.]
In which Ji has kind of a rough week
* Spazzle spilled the beans (well, most of them) about Mokvar here, after Krog reported on Spazzle’s clandestine meeting with Mokvar in Winterspring.
** While being held in Orgrimmar, Mokvar and Deliana carried out an escape plan when Ji let himself be knocked out to distract the Kor’kron guards. Spazzle reported on all this (to you folks at home, not to Garrosh…yet) here and here.
* Garona revealed to Mokvar that she was shadowing him early on, when she intervened to protect him during an attack by spectral assassins.
* That would be the aforementioned clandestine meeting with Spazzle.
** Oh, Mylune. Garrosh crossed paths with everyone’s favorite bunny-hugger at the Sanctuary of Malorne in a rather memorable encounter here. And, what the hey, might as well link back to the other times he’s run into her, in Mulgore and at an ill-fated anger management seminar (for the uninitiated among you: yes, really).
30 Days of Character Development #6: Mylune
[Each week — or some remote facsimile thereof — a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about.]
Name: Mylune
Occupation: Caretaker of Hyjal, wildlife custodian
Race: Forest nymph
Class: Druid
Age: Unknown, though her behavior would suggest fairly young by nymph standards
Group affiliations: Guardians of Hyjal (member), Cenarion Circle (member)
Known relatives: Cenarius (exact relationship unclear, but all forest nymphs are descended from dryads, who are daughters of Cenarius)
Earth Online notes: Mercifully, no one has told Mylune about Earth Online. Or possibly about the internet. Probably for the best in both cases.
First appearance: “Of wyverns and pine cones”
Key posts and plot points:
- Garrosh has only encountered Mylune a few times, but those few times have been memorable ones. He first met everyone’s favorite overly energetic nymph in “Of wyverns and pine cones,” in which Mylune was a bit too excited to meet Mortimer. This came as a shock to no one — least of all Hamuul Runetotem — other than the Warchief himself.
- Garrosh had another run-in with Mylune (much to his chagrin) a few months later, in “Attack of the petting zoo.” This time around, Mylune unleashed her boundless affection on a pack of armed critters dwelling amid the northern plateaus of Mulgore. This time, however, the critters were ready to put up a fight, the distress of which eventually launched Mylune into what can only be described as a psychotic episode. For the record, Hamuul narrowly missed winning Malfurion’s office pool on when she would snap.
- It only follows, then, that when Ben-Lin Cloudstrider organized an anger management seminar in the appropriately named “Anger management,” Mylune would be one of the attendees. Given that the session consisted of putting Mylune, Garrosh, Lor’thermar Theron, and Tirion Fordring in a room together…well…the exercise proved less than productive. Unless, of course, you’re Faranell, in which case it was a terrific way to spend an afternoon.
In her own words:
What are your most prominent physical features?
Hi! How are you? I hope you’re having a super happy wonderful day, because why wouldn’t you when we have this beautiful world to share with all our adorable woodland friends!
Oh… Did you ask a question? Okay! Well, I guess I have extra big blue eyes — for looking out for all the cuddly animals! And my long pointed ears…to listen for the cuddly animals! And…oh, and my slender but surprisingly steel-trap-like arms, for hugging the cuddly animals! They’re just so sweet and cute, so how could I resist! And hug them to my bosom! Nice and close to my heart, that’s big and warm and just bursting with love for the animals! Does that count too?
Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from. If you don’t have any, is there a reason?
I do have this one little scar on my shoulder here, but you know? It’s a funny thing! I don’t really remember where it came from. Isn’t that weird?
Describe your happiest memory.
Ohhh that would have to be the first time I went up to Nordrassil. It was before that mean demon guy climbed up there and made everyone sad for a while, and I’ll always remember walking through the passage to the peak of Mount Hyjal, and seeing all the animals running around and playing, just bunnies and squirrels and raccoons and skunks and chipmunks and OH MY LUNE they were all so adorable, and the sun was shining and the birds were singing, and like three rainbows all appeared in the sky, and I just ran and ran all around with the animals and we played and hugged and snuggled and it was all such a big happy wonderful blur but Mal says it was okay because eventually I passed out from exhaustion and finally got quiet and also because ale.
Is there one event or happening you would like to erase from your past? Why?
The incident. Only Miss Cloudy-bear said I should try not to think about the incident. So, what?
What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?
Coffee ice cream — I really really like coffee, did you know it helps give you extra energy? Isn’t that just super?! And my favorite color is green, and my favorite song is…oh, you know that one? It always seems to be playing when you walk through the forests. You know the one? It goes like this — laaa, la la la laaaaa, la la la laah, luh la lahhh? It’s so pretty! I don’t really understand where it’s coming from, though.
Who do you trust?
Hamuul, and Malfurion, even though Hamuul can be all my cranky-hooves sometimes. And Mal always seems to be hovering around watching me like he’s looking for something, but I know it’s just because he cares. I trust all my forest nymph sisters, too, even though a lot of them don’t really hang out with me much.
Can you define a turning point in your life? Multiples are acceptable.
The incident. OH MY LUNE! Why do you keep bringing up the incident?! I’m not supposed to think about that! What? What incident? Happy thoughts! HAPPY THOUGHTS!
Is there an animal you equate to yourself?
<Mylune’s eyes go large and dewy>
I have to pick ONE? But they’re all so SQUEEEEEEE!
How do you react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?
I don’t deal with cold as well as my cousins the frost nymphs, but I really, REALLY don’t like extreme heat! That’s sounds like something from those burny guys from the Firelands! You’re not with THEM, are you?!
Are you an early morning bird or a night owl?
I’m always up bright and early! Why waste the warm snuggly sunlight?
Are you a good cook? What’s your favorite recipe?
OH MY LUNE why do you keep trying to talk about the incident? What’s WRONG with you? Okay, you know what! Fine! FINE! YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT? WE’LL TALK ABOUT IT! SO YEAH, I’M GOOD MOTHERFUCKING COOK, AS IF YOU DIDN’T ALREADY FUCKING KNOW! AND YOU KNOW WHAT I COOK REALLY WELL, IT TURNS OUT? RABBIT FUCKING STEW! BECAUSE GUESS WHAT, ASSHOLE — SPOILER ALERT: THE DEATH OF THE SOUL TASTES FUCKING DELICIOUS!
Do you have any irrational fears?
Gee, I don’t know, what do you think — maybe I have a deep-seeded fear of HAVING ANOTHER FUCKING BLACKOUT AND WAKING UP AMID THE BODIES AGAIN? YOU THINK MAYBE THAT KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT?
What would your cutie mark be?
Oooh, well, maybe a heart or a rainbow, or, hey, HOW ABOUT A FUCKING SKULL AND CROSSBONES, BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK NOT IF YOU’RE GOING TO KEEP BRINGING IT UP, YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!
If you could time travel, where would you go?
WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK I WOULD GO, ASSHOLE? MAYBE BACK TO THE GODDAMN INCIDENT YOU WON’T STOP FUCKING TALKING ABOUT! MAYBE I’D LIKE TO TAKE THAT ONE BACK, YA THINK?!
Are you superstitious?
I know karma’s a bitch, I can tell you THAT much!
Describe your hands. Are they small, long, calloused, smooth, stubby?
COVERED WITH DARK RED STAINS OF LOST INNOCENCE THAT WILL NEVER, EVER COME OUT. I WASH THEM, AND WASH THEM, AND THEY NEVER COME OUT.
How do you smell? Do you wear perfume or cologne?
Um… <deep breath> Smell? Oh, like smelling salts? Um…yes, those might be handy. They’re usually pretty helpful.
Is…is Hamuul around anywhere? I think I need to talk to him. I don’t know if the herbs Miss Cloudy-bear gave me are working…
Previous Profiles:
* * * * *
[A few quick OOC notes looking ahead: I have a big stack of material on the way (hopefully) over the next week-plus, then, the weekend after next, remember that we have our next Meta Raid. Clear your (raid) calendars for Saturday, May 10, at 8:00 PM EDT!
That Saturday (May 10) will also mark the beginning of a short break I’ll be taking from posting — I’m going to take the following week off to tend to RL commitments and do some advance prepping for the next stretch of posts. To send you off with a bang, though, and to add an extra perk to the Meta Raid, I’m going to have one last post going up that night, right as we’re gathering for our night of SoO hijinks. (Place your bets now on whether I’m going to cook up something to leave you hanging for a bit…)]
Not quite Monday, not quite mailbag
(Or, for the math nerds out there, NotQuite(Monday + Mailbag). I don’t really understand what that means. Spazzle said it would go over like gangbusters, though.)
The Grimtotem warrior that Nazgrim was holding in Brackenwall Village was delivered to Orgrimmar. As it turns out, she was a messenger. She had wanted to be brought to Orgrimmar in order to deliver a letter – to me personally.
On a side note, just before she arrived here, some of our soldiers captured a SECOND Grimtotem sneaking around the Dranosh’ar Blockade. This one’s being pretty tight-lipped about what he was doing there, so I’m guessing that one wasn’t another messenger. So I’m not sure what to make of that.
For now, though, it’s that first one that’s the bigger deal, because the message she was delivering…well, here, see for yourself.
Dearest Warchief Hellscream,
I hope this letter finds you well. Actually, let us not put up false pretenses; I don’t at all hope it finds you well, and further, I know that it will not.
Word has reached me of the terrible tragedy you have recently suffered, concerning the loss of your dear mother Lakkara. I believe I have some information concerning her loss that will be of interest to you. Indeed, you may even take some solace in this knowledge – you see, my good Garrosh, you have not truly lost her at all. That would require you to have ever truly had her back.
Allow me to share with you a most curious tale.
After my recent, shall we say, difficulties with many of my Grimtotem kin, I decided to retire temporarily through the Dark Portal to Outland – a remarkable spectacle at first sight, I must say. I do so love what your fellow orcs have done with the place. My handful of followers and I found the region of Nagrand by far the most hospitable – I will thank you for forgoing any obvious remarks concerning the ready availability of grass – and so we took up temporary residence in its outlying territories, near to your Mag’har kin’s Ancestral Grounds.
It was there that a most interesting thing took place. While foraging in the nearby hills, my associates happened upon a small, secluded cave in the mountainside. Inside, they found the body of an orcish woman who appeared to have died some years prior. Ever a student of spiritual custom, I found myself curious as to how the woman had come to be there, and why the Mag’har, usually so diligent in matters of honoring their dead, would have left her remains to go unburied in some remote cave. And so, I and my colleagues undertook some cautious investigations.
I will not trouble you with the details of our methods; suffice to say, in short order, we found to our amazement that we had discovered the remains of Lakkara, mate of the great Grommash Hellscream, last victim of the pernicious red pox that once ravaged the orcs.
Ordinarily, I would be loathe to disturb the fallen ancestors of any people. But, as I am sure you will understand, I am equally loathe to pass up a glowing opportunity.
You may recall, several weeks ago, investigating a Twilight’s Hammer cabal in Hyjal, resulting in some rather troubling visions courtesy of a conveniently placed shadebind totem. In a stroke of good fortune for me, and short-sightedness for you (both of which, I must say, I was rather counting on), you neglected in your rattled state to collect the offending totem. This made it possible for one of my associates to do so shortly thereafter – the totem, by this point, having attuned itself to you, my good Warchief, for purposes of binding to itself a few select spirits intimately linked to your soul. One crucial one in particular.
From there, it was a simple matter to summon forth Lakkara’s spirit and prepare her for her “return.” With the spiritbinding of her dear son to draw upon, and her actual body on hand, the other necessary manipulations were laborious but hardly difficult. A few selective blurrings of memories…the instilling of a few small additional ones…minor tinkering around the edges of the shadow of her mind: all trivial undertakings, really, once the real work of invocation was done. All the more trivial given how readily she took to them – only too happy to imagine that she had watched her son’s growth in life rather than from the beyond.
The entire process she would perceive – with some subtle nudging – as our careful ministration of her illness. (Not entirely an untruth, I might add.) And the fact of her past contagion would ensure that she would not allow anyone close enough to touch her, and thus discover her noncorporeal state.
And so, with that, it was simply a matter of placing a few totems to summon her into sustained phantasmal being and set her on her way to Garadar. Greatmother Geyah was, of course, the real test, but I hardly had any doubts that my Lakkara would pass inspection – my Lakkara was, after all, the real Lakkara. Or what remained of her spirit, more or less.
It was only a matter of time before she would seek out her dear boy.
Of course, your time together would, as you already know, be short-lived. The elder crone giveth, and the elder crone taketh away. In this case, the instrument of her removal would likewise come via shadebind – in this case, your former underling Gerbo, who, you may be surprised to learn, was from time to time of assistance to me in his days in Stonetalon. For a price, of course, but he was, quite frankly, something of a bargain as such matters go. At any rate, given our previous…association, and his own lingering distaste for his former Warchief, he was only too amenable to lending his aid one last time in death.
It takes a ghost to slay a ghost, after all.
You might well ask, at this point, why I would take the trouble to construct so elaborate a charade. Why would I invest such time and effort to conjure up the illusion of Lakkara, only to dispel it once again, all for no apparent, tangible gain.
You might well ask, but I suspect you need not. For illusory though she may have been, to you, dear Garrosh, she was real. And there is no agony quite so sharp as that of rescinded hope, is there, Warchief?
I will admit, my earlier efforts against you in the Bastion of Twilight were misguided. Then, I had sought to take my revenge by killing you. A foolish, short-sighted goal, I realize now. A terrible mistake whose failure, though grating at the time, has proven to be a blessing in disguise.
You see, I no longer have any desire to kill you. I’ve hurt you. And I intend to go on hurting you.
Enjoy your empty nest, dear Warchief. You will hear from me again.
–Magatha Grimtotem
…
Excuse me. I…think I need to step away from the computer for a minute.
…
…
…
Okay.
So.
I know a lot of you have been reading this blog for a while, and you probably already have an idea what to expect at this point. So you’re probably going to be a little surprised here.
See, ordinarily this would be the point where I start yelling, and going into all caps, and screaming bloody murder, and ranting on and on about how brutally I’m going to murder Magatha, and on and on, and filling up a couple paragraphs with how Magatha’s going to die, she’s going to die, oh holy crap she is so. Totally. Going. To die.
I’m not going to do that now.
See how calm I’m staying? Keeping it together, no yelling, not raising my voice even a little.
Want to know why?
You know that level of anger where it’s not burning up inside you, not even because it’s burned itself out – because that would imply it’s run its course and is done with – but because it’s gone so far beyond that burning, fiery, jump-up-and-down, stomp-your-feet kind of angry? That anger where the screaming and venting is just wasted energy, and you’re not going to waste any of that energy that you could save up to erase whoever or whatever it was that pushed you that far? You know that kind of angry?
I am so utterly beyond that right now.
So all I’m going to say is this.
You don’t have to worry about my rage, Magatha. I usually make a pretty big show of using up my rage. But rage is just anger that’s burned up and channeled into something else, expended as quickly as it comes. Rage is nothing. But anger that’s contained, even cultivated? That’s like a wine. It grows deeper, and richer, and ferments into something greater. It grows more potent. It grows creative.
Anger is the mother of invention. And it has an infinite, indelible memory.
So don’t worry about me ranting on and on and how you’re going to die, Magatha. I know it’s what you’re expecting from me, but not this time. That’s a promise.
You’re not going to die, Magatha.
You’re going to beg to.
And when you do, I’m going to be completely, utterly, hideously…calm.
Polyphonic pro moronic
After my trip up to Hyjal a few weeks ago – the Twilight’s Hammer crackdown part, not the grabby dryad part – things have quieted down some up there, but there’ve still been a few random Twilight flare-ups here and there. Mostly they seem to have gotten fewer and farther between, but every so often I’ve been getting reports of them turning up again. Usually the reports end with them promptly getting smacked down by our people.
I just got another heads-up from Stonetalon. First the basic information itself: Dontrag and Utvoch (of course) were making a scouting sweep around Battlescar Valley, doing a little followup on the skirmishes we’ve had there with Alliance forces, when they ran into another one of the faceless ones we’d found down around Thal’darah Grove. It must have been the runt of the faceless litter, because D&U were able to smack it down pretty easily, but they decided to have an extra look around the area. A rare non-retarded move by those two, I know. It happens.
Turns out, this was creepily close to the makeshift graveyard that we’d set up in the valley after everything that had gone down there some months back. They found a few signs that someone had been poking around there, but the main disturbing news item was that one of the graves had been dug up – specifically, former General Grebo. (Okay, I’m not sure why I felt the need to call him “former General” – I mean yeah, he ended up dying in disgrace and relinquished his rank as a result, but, I mean, he’s dead. He’s pretty much “former” everything.) Someone had dug up Grebo’s grave. It was empty. I’m not sure I want to think about what they want with his remains, but when your best case scenario is that someone decided to Calder Gray it up, that can’t be a happy thing. I may get Krog up there to do some checking around.
Anyway, that’s the basic information itself, which obviously isn’t fun. But on top of it, the news came to me from D&U themselves, which tells you right there that just GETTING the update was even LESS fun. Because I think I’ve just discovered ANOTHER down side to the whole Earth Online situation – the two of them decided to deliver this little tidbit to me IN TELLS while I was ON THE GAME. Which, first of all, that’s supposed to be my down time, to relax. Second of all, there are actually OFFICIAL CHANNELS they could use to report things, which would not involve intruding on the aforementioned down time, and, you know, distracting me with WTF news while I’m trying not to die to an elite. And then, just to finish off, the pickle on the crap sandwich of the whole situation if you will, the TWO of them decided they were going to deliver the news by BOTH getting into whispers with me, INDIVIDUALLY, at the SAME TIME.
Read that again. Once more. Now think about that. Are your ears bleeding yet? No? Read it one more time then. Now think about it some more.
See?
Do you have ANY IDEA how frustrating it is to try to drag a story out of TWO mental defectives SIMULTANEOUSLY, on the same topic, while trying to keep straight which idiot has told you what, and half the time it’s all you can do to keep straight which one of them is which? It’s like fucking moron stereo with extra reverb, turned up to eleven.
I think I need to roll an alt.
Now as I was saying…
Okay, first of all, HA HA HA, Sylvanas, very funny. April fools, blah blah. It took freaking FOREVER to get the blog fixed back to the way it’s supposed to look (well, it took SPAZZLE forever, from what he tells me…but I had to WAIT like forever for him to get finished, so YOU tell ME what’s worse). That and re-lock-down blog security.
I think we’ve got it fixed now, though. Might have been partly my fault, to be honest. Spazzle tells me it actually might not have been the wisest decision for me to make the blog admin password “garrosh.” Go figure. Still, I’d like to know where Sylvanas learned to become this uber master hacker apparently.
Okay, anyway, moving on.
So as I was about to say before little miss Banshee Queen went all smartass on us, I still needed to update everyone on what was going on in Mount Hyjal. You know, after I managed to get away from the grabby huggy dryad. Who, let me just say one last time, what the fuck. Anyhow.
So when last we left Garrosh, before everybody in the universe decided they were going to jump on the Let’s Piss Off Garrosh Bandwagon, I was checking on reports of a Twilight’s Hammer enclave still milling around making trouble in Hyjal. I flew down to Darkwhisper Gorge, where the reports were coming from, and sure enough, I found a batch of Twilights gathered at what’s left of Doom’s Vigil. When I arrived, there were about a dozen of them gathered in a circle, all channeling some sort of spell. Needless to say I put a quick end to that…for the sake of saving space I’m going to skip past the blood and death and severed limbs and all that stuff, which let’s be honest only took up a couple minutes anyway, and by this point I’m sure you can all use your imagination for this kind of thing anyway. Bottom line is “bunch of Twilights” got a quick revision into “pile of corpses,” which is kind of fitting, since once I had the chance to have a better look at the place, I noticed a bunch of other bodies laying around the area – a couple orcs, a couple trolls, a bunch of tauren, a human or two, I think, but who really cares about them?
At this point I was getting ready to take off, when I thought I saw something moving among the rocks in the mountainside nearby. I went to check on it, and found a cave – pretty easily accessible from the camp, but easy to miss with the way the surrounding rock was laid out. There was another body, a night elf this time, on the ground right outside, and there seemed to be some light flickering inside. So, in I went. That is, after I got Mortimer calmed down some – like I said, I was just about to leave, so I had actually just strapped Gorehowl to the saddle, and I don’t know what was getting Mortimer so spooked but he damn near took off with the axe before I even had the chance to get it back again.
Anyway, I finally got Gorehowl and went in. The light was coming from a basic campfire someone had left there, and the light from the flames combined with the rock formations inside the save made for a lot of shadows that made it kind of hard to get your bearings in what was really a pretty small chamber. Or room. Or…I don’t know, whatever you call the inside of a cave.
I was so busy situating myself that I didn’t even notice right away that there was a figure moving on the far side of the campfire – it was obscured by the shadows at first, but once my eyes had adjusted to the light, and it moved again, I could see the figure was an orc. And then when it moved, and turned toward me, it didn’t take any doing to recognize those features.
Krom’gar.
And so yeah, first thought? I KNEW I should have had D&U go back and make sure his body was accounted for at Cliffwalker Post! Doesn’t ANYBODY stay dead anymore? But before you start freaking out like I was, hang on for my SECOND thought, which was pretty much “Boy, good thing I’ve still got this AXE with me,” and jumped across the campfire, and whipped Gorehowl around for a swing that went right through Krom’gar, like WHEW right through him like he wasn’t even there, so that Gorehowl ended up ricocheting off the rock wall and jarring itself out of my grip, so the handle flew up and clanged me right in the head, and OWW.
And meanwhile there’s Krom’gar still there staring at me, not a scratch on him. It took me a second to piece together, but basically for those of you who haven’t already done the math, Gorehowl went flying through him like he wasn’t even there because, well, he wasn’t. It wasn’t Krom’gar back from the dead. It was Krom’gar, dead. A spirit, or something like it.
Here’s where I actually wish I had Mokvar with me this time, because for the couple minutes I managed to talk to the ghost, it would have been nice to have someone there getting some of this stuff written down. But, here’s the gist of it. The spirit-formerly-known-as-Krom’gar was really mostly interested in being cryptic and otherwise telling me I knew how he was going to tackle things in Stonetalon, and I had gone soft and had put him in charge to do the things I knew I couldn’t, and a whole bunch of other utter bullshit like that. As if I would ever have been okay with….bah, forget it. Anyway, I finally managed to get an answer from him on why his ghost would be in some random cave in Hyjal – it was because I was there, basically. He was there because I was there.
See, when the dead move on to the spirit realm, they leave echoes behind. A piece of them stays with whoever is left living who had been important to them, or who they were important to. We all have these echoes of spirits that we carry around with us, the people who were close to us, or helped make us who we are for good or ill, or who cared about us, or whatever. They just go through the world with us, invisible, never making a sound, never interfering, just…tagging along because they’re part of us. I’m not even going to get into the reasons why I would be carrying Krom’gar around with me. If you’ve been following along with me, you already understand, and if you don’t, it would probably take a lot more doing to explain than I’ve got the mental energy to deal with right now.
While he was semi-kinda-spelling this much out, it didn’t actually occur to me right off to ask why one of those echoes would all of a sudden become VISIBLE to me like this, but stay tuned. That’ll make more sense in a second.
So I don’t want to make it sound like this was just some expositiony fireside chat between me and ex-Krom’gar, because like I said he was mostly interested in being vague and cryptic and generally getting under my skin. Which, you know, really set him apart from so many other people from among the LIVING. But I managed to drag that much of an explanation out of him in bits in pieces, and then after a few minutes he hit me with his cryptic big finish – check this one out: “From within it consumes, Warchief,” like, yeah, the fuck – and then flickered away into the shadows.
And it was at that point that I finally noticed something else in the shadows against the back wall of the cave: a totem. Different design than the typical elemental totems that shaman use, but unmistakably a totem. It looked familiar, actually, and after wracking my brain a couple minutes I remembered: it matched the description I’d heard from some of the elders back in Garadar of this thing called a “shadebind” totem, which was this very rare variety that could be used to draw some of those baggage spirits off of someone and make them appear in the mortal world. Usually they were only ever used in rare cases where an important elder was having some kind of spiritual crisis, and even then it didn’t always work. Just creating one required a pretty rare level of knowledge and shamanistic power, much less getting the rituals right.
I was pretty much marveling over where one of these things even could have come from, when I noticed one more detail. The markings along the side of the totem – mostly random shaman-type stuff that I don’t know enough to make sense of, but then, mixed in with them in a couple places, there were a couple specific tribal markings, ones I’ve already seen more than I’d care to.
Tribal markings of the Grimtotem.
So, five points to anybody else whose best guess here matches mine, as far as who might be a clever enough shaman to pull off one of these doohickeys, plus have occasion to be hanging around a Twilight camp. Yep.
As for what Magatha might be after, your guess is as good as mine. For all I know, she didn’t have any reason to think I’d even be turning up in Hyjal, so it’s not like I can even assume she’d planted it there for me specifically. She could be after something else entirely and I just happened to be the one to come along and trigger the damn thing. Who knows. All this really tells us for sure is she’s on the loose back in Kalimdor, and she’s up to something. Which really isn’t anything we shouldn’t have guessed anyway.
So…that’s as much as I’ve got for right now. At this point I’m not even sure there’s anything else to be done as followup, so we’ll just have to see.
And I swear, though, if that ghost thought I actually WANTED him to…never mind. I’m only going to make myself angry. More soon.
Updatus interruptus
Everyone remember to keep your comments coming for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge! In the meantime, though, I still need to finish telling you what all went on while I was up in Hyjal, because–
Hold on.
<looks around>
What.
THE FUCK.
Is THIS?
…
Um, stand by. I need to go track down Spazzle and…ask a few questions. I’ll post more later. I think.
Happy April 1, everyone!
~_^
[Edit: For those coming late to the party, the image below is what the Command Board looked like the day this post went live.]
Of wyverns and pine cones
Just dropped by the Sanctuary of Malorne on my way around Mount Hyjal and paid a visit to Hamuul Runetotem, who’s overseeing the reforestation efforts there. I brought a few men with me for the trip, including Mokvar, so, y’know, transcript incoming…
GARROSH: Hamuul, I’m glad you’re doing better these days.
HAMUUL: As compared to being burned alive, or as compared to crawling out from under a pile of my friends’ corpses in a mass grave?
GARROSH: Um…yes?
HAMUUL: I’ve been worse.
GARROSH: Uh…yeah. So while I’m here, I wanted to—
Mylune, an overly energetic dryad, scampers in and starts hugging Mortimer frantically. Mortimer appears generally confused but doesn’t put up much of a fight.
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhhhh aren’t you just the cutest thing?! You’re a good wittle wyvern, aren’t you? Yes you are! Yes you are! Ohhhhhhhh you’re so precious!
GARROSH: Um, what’s this?
HAMUUL: That’s Mylune, one of the Guardians. She’s been helping with the recovery up at the Grove of Aessina and here at the Regrowth…
MYLUNE: So furry and handsome and such a good boy! Yes you are! You are! Oh yes you are, Mr. Wyvern…
GARROSH: Is she always like this?
MYLUNE: OOH! Now don’t be like that, Mr. Bitey-Pants, you know Autie Luney just want to wuv you! Like this!
She squeezes her arms around Mortimer extra tight, despite his growing efforts to pull away.
HAMUUL: <long pause> Yes.
GARROSH: Oh.
HAMUUL: Mmhmm.
GARROSH: Well then.
MYLUNE: …with your scruffy-wuffy mane and your handsome coat and – OOH, what big teeth you have, now I told you, Mr. Wyvern…
GARROSH: Look, if you have to drive him bonkers, could you at least just call him by his actual name and not this Mr. Wyvern crap?
MYLUNE: <squeezing Mortimer giddily> Oooooh, what’s his name?
GARROSH: His name is Mortimer, and—
MYLUNE: <holding Mortimer by his face and wiggling it side to side> Oh that’s a funny name, isn’t it Mr. Mortimer? Isn’t it? <nodding Mortimer’s head in her hands> Yes it is! Yes it is!
GARROSH: Can you STOP that? And what the hell’s wrong with his name?
MYLUNE: Ohhh… <eyes go creepily wide> Is he your wyvern, Mr. Warchief?
GARROSH: Yes, why do you—OOF!
In one rapid motion, Mylune releases Mortimer, grabs Garrosh, and clasps him to her bosom, swaying side to side energetically.
MYLUNE: Ohhhh aren’t wyverns just that most wonderful, flappytastical creatures?!
GARROSH: <wriggling around to try to pull away, without much success> THE FUCK is your problem?!
MYLUNE: Such beautiful, wonderful, majestic creatures of the sky! <eyes glistening happily> They’re just so magnificent! And you have one of your very own!
GARROSH: Uh, Mokvar, a little help here?
MOKVAR: Too busy writing, boss.
GARROSH: DAMMIT, MOKVAR!
MYLUNE: <still swaying side to side with Garrosh clasped to her bosom> Oh I wish I had a wyvern friend of my very own! I would hug him and pet him and squeeze him and love him and I would call him George!
GARROSH: The fuck, you’re giving him shit for “Mortimer,” but apparently “George” is—
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhh and I would love him so much! You’re so so lucky to have a wyvern friend of your very very own, Mr. Orc!
Mylune keeps Garrosh pressed against her with one arm while grabbing Mortimer again with the other, and pulls the wyvern to her despite its plaintive yelps.
MYLUNE: The very very bestest of furry flappy friends! It’s just so beautiful!
GARROSH: <finally pulls out of her grip> What. THE FUCK. Is your DAMAGE? And will you STOP squeezing him like that, before you squish his head or something? He’s already kind of skittish from getting beaten as it is!
MYLUNE: <stares at Garrosh with eyes welling up with tears> He…he was beaten?
GARROSH: <exasperated sigh> Yeah, he was, and he was stuck on the long haul from Silithus to Winterspring before I—
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhhh that poor sweet fuzzy growly thing, you mean he’s a rescue wyvern too?!
GARROSH: I… Well so to speak, now that you mention it there were a couple times in Stonetalon and then in Twilight High—GAH!!!
With a sudden, gleeful squeal, Mylune releases Mortimer and grabs Garrosh with both hands, pulling him to her and planting a big, loud kiss on him before hugging him tightly.
MYLUNE: Oh thank you, Mr. Orc! Thank for saving the poor dear sweet beautiful wyvern from harm! So so much! Oh it makes me so happy!
GARROSH: <gasping and spitting> THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, LADY?! And why do you taste like fucking pine cones?!
MYLUNE: <keeps rocking back and forth hugging Garrosh against her> Ohhh silly Mr. Orcie! Doesn’t it just make you feel all warm and gooey inside knowing you’ve made a poor innocent animal safe and happy!
GARROSH: <spits again> Seriously, pine cones! Hell, I’m half surprised you don’t taste like fucking maple syrup!
MYLUNE: Why? Did Jaina say something?
GARROSH: Why would…okay, you know what, I’m not even going to. Fuck it. And… <shoves her away forcefully and steps back> STOP. FUCKING. GRABBING PEOPLE. Fucking hell, Hamuul, how do you put up with this shit?
HAMUUL: <long pause> With copious ale and quiet resignation.
GARROSH: And hey, you’re a druid, right?
HAMUUL: There have been rumors to that effect.
GARROSH: Um…okay. So listen, dude, whatever you do, don’t go into one of your animal forms around this chick, you know?
HAMUUL: I know.
GARROSH: Because seriously, if she—
HAMUUL: No. You don’t understand. I know.
GARROSH: …Ah.
HAMUUL: Mmhmm.
MYLUNE: Oh Hamuul, don’t you be all Mr. Grumpyhooves just because you’re an extra super cuddly kitty cat!
GARROSH: Seriously, shouldn’t you be up in Silvermoon pledging a sorority and dotting your I’s with little hearts or something?
MYLUNE: Oh no, silly Mr. Warchief, I never dot my I’s with hearts!
GARROSH: Why do I get the feeling…
MYLUNE: I wouldn’t want the other poor letters to feel like I don’t love them too!
GARROSH: …Yep.
HAMUUL: It’s been…a slow process here.
MYLUNE: Ohhhhhh look, a woodchuck! Isn’t he the sweetest and pudgiest and woodchuckerest little darling ever?
GARROSH: It’s like if Dontrag and Utvoch had a kid. Made of pink.
HAMUUL: Who?
GARROSH: Count yourself lucky.
MYLUNE: <hugging the woodchuck, who seems none too thrilled about the situation> So furry and cuddly and squirmy and fuzzy and SQUEE!
GARROSH: Hey, listen, Miley or whatever the fuck your name is, did you hear about the fires in Ashenvale?
MYLUNE: What? Fires?
GARROSH: Yeah, there was a huge fire in Ashenvale. All the deer and squirrels and bear cubs and…like…chipmunks with funny hats that you probably have a conniption over, they all fucking BURNED.
MYLUNE: <wide-eyed shock> They…they…
GARROSH: <aside to Runetotem> That oughta shut her up for a while.
HAMUUL: I don’t know if you thought this through.
MYLUNE: The…cute little animals…burned…?
Mylune’s eyes well up with tears, she throws her head back, and she starts to wail despondently. Her near-deafening crying grows louder and higher-pitched, climbing in octaves into a piercing screech. After a few seconds, her voice becomes inaudible, but she continues standing in place, visibly crying. A moment later, wolves begin howling in the distance.
GARROSH: Uh oh.
HAMUUL: As I said.
GARROSH: I…should maybe get going.
HAMUUL: Probably.
GARROSH: Yeah. I think I need to go stab a bunny or something.
HAMUUL: Thanks for making light of things being burned alive, by the way. That was thoughtful.
Awkward.
You know, I’m starting to wonder if I should just stop bringing Mokvar places, because seriously, every time I have him with me it seems like some idiotic shit keeps happening.
I still have more work do to here in Hyjal, but I’m in no mood to deal with it after all that bullshit, so I think I’m just going to go check in at Nordrassil and try to do some writing to relax before I get going again. I still have a new EPIC VERSE to finish up (no, I haven’t forgotten) so hopefully I’ll get that up for you guys pretty quick. Stay tuned.
And fucking hell. Seriously.
“I don’t know what he was complaining about. He tasted like cheap beer and arrested development.”
Old God mop-up duty
Scouting reports have finally come in from around Kalimdor, after the business with the Old Gods’ spawn in Thal’darah Grove last week. The Twilight’s Hammer is definitely weakened and scattered in the aftermath of Deathwing’s defeat, but they’re still out there licking their wounds. As for the Old Gods and their minions themselves, that’s a little tricker. We don’t really know very much about the Old Gods proper – in the late stages of the war with Deathwing we kept hearing references to an Old God named N’Zoth, but we don’t have much idea where he’s hiding, or how many Old Gods are still out there, if any, or where they are.
That’s the thing about the Old Gods – however many of them are left, they’re hidden away somewhere, buried deep in the bowels of the earth or at the bottom of the sea. With the ones we’ve fought so far, C’thun and Yogg-Saron, we actually had a pretty easy time of it, since in both those cases they were contained in one location, and even then it’s hard to tell just how deeply and broadly they’d managed to take root in the surrounding area.
But for the ones still on the loose, it’s a whole other problem. All we really know is that there’s at least one more of them (strictly speaking, there’s probably at least TWO more of them, seeing as how the Twilights keep talking about the Old GODS rather than the Old GOD, or just plain That Dude N’Zoth), and that they’re located, well, DOWN THERE somewhere. Hell, one of them could be tucked away somewhere under Orgrimmar for all we know. I guess the Titans supposedly imprisoned them all underground, although, first of all, Titans, nice job letting the rest of us know where they ARE so we could maybe help keep an eye on them, or at least not go digging around too close and maybe accidentally let them loose delving too greedily and too deep, and second of all, bang-up job keeping the three we know about contained all air-tight like they have been. Hell, one of those three is STILL contained as far as we know, and it hasn’t stopped him (her? it? they? do we need to invent a whole new pronoun for these things?) from stirring up all kinds of trouble with Deathwing and Ragnaros and the Twilights.
And that’s not even getting into their fucking SPAWN, whatever the fuck that even means, like the faceless ones and the tendrils and whatever else. I mean, look at what happened in Dragonblight and you’ll see my point. Apparently these Old Gods have like a zillion of these creepy-ass offspring or minions or whatever the fuck, all burrowing around underground where they can just roll up on Wyrmrest Temple and pop out of the ground with those fucking gigantic living-mouths-with-tentacles, which by the way, what’s even the POINT of keeping the Old Gods “imprisoned” if they can apparently just shit out THOSE things at will and send them wherever they want?
So anyway, yeah. Old Gods suck.
Point being, the Old Gods are the real problem, but they’re also damn hard to pin down, so most of the time the best we can do is try to stay on top of the Twilight cult and hope that keeping them under wraps will help us put a damper on the Old Gods indirectly. Which brings us back to the scouting reports. We’re still seeing some pockets of Twilight activity in a few areas. In particular I’m getting some reports on a remaining enclave up in Mount Hyjal. I may make a trip up there to have a look myself. Not to mention it might be good to check in and get a little face time with Hamuul Runetotem, seeing as I never got around to sending him a “Get Well Soon” card after…well, you know. Although he’s seemed kind of uncomfortable around me ever since the first couple months I was Warchief. Not sure what’s up with that. Anyway, I’ll probably have a chance to talk to him soon.
