Tag Archives: oblique references
Get a little action in
So, here’s a little epilogue to the whole Pandaren Noodle Festival deal from a couple days ago, which should help demonstrate that where your Warchief is concerned, the mental elevator’s always going to the top floor. And unlike most elevators, it doesn’t have any careless motherfuckers getting themselves killed running off the edge then going plummet-plummet-scream-eek-splat. Although believe you me, if I COULD push a few people right off that elevator, I would. WITH MY MIND.
Anyhow. While Ji Lunchbox was getting things together for his big ol’ panda nom-nom party, I had a brainstorm for how I could kill two birds with one stone. So, number one, I’d been thinking for a while that I really haven’t been getting as much use as I should out of the Ring of Honor. Sure, a few randoms sometimes use the place for their little bitch-slap peen-measuring skirmishes, but really, ever since I had the newly arrived pandas prove themselves against a handful of assorted monsters (NEVER YOU MIND WHY I JUST SO HAPPENED TO HAVE THEM ON HAND), the place has pretty much been sitting there gathering dust. Number two, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this lately, but teenage daughters are damn expensive, and that expense gets magnified when you’re also trying to finagle an off-the-books black-ops underground HEYYYYYY so that’s the thing, teenage daughters, man, expensive stuff and that’s all I have to say about that.
Luckily, your Warchief is one sharp operator, so I came up with a brainstorm to do something about BOTH these situations at once. Plus — what the hell, let’s call this one number THREE — I was even able to do it in a way that cashed in on all that traffic that the Valley of Honor was getting because of PandaFest. SO CHECK IT OUT, motherfuckers, YOU SIGN UP FOR TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE AND YOU WALK AWAY WITH THREE. THREE GODDAMN DEAD BIRDS. That’s right, I give people a little something extra, ’cause that’s how I roll. Everybody wins. Except maybe the birds. Oh well.
So I know what you’re thinking. No, not “Wow, Garrosh, you sure are awesome, and sexy as all fuck, too” — I mean, sure, you’re thinking it, but I’m talking about the other thing: “So what was your genius idea, Garrosh?” EXCELLENT QUESTION, GLAD YOU ASKED.
Well, I realized that we’ve got this perfectly good gladitorial arena right here in Orgrimmar, only there’s no gladitorial combat keeping it in use. So, I decided it was time to do something about that. You’d be surprised how easy it was — a few conferences with some organizers, a couple hours’ worth of logistics, a not-so-gentle nudge for the contractors who’d already been working on remodeling the arena for way too long already, and lo and behold, the BRAWLER’S GUILD was born! A whole fight-on-demand, invitation-only tournament where the best and the badassest can show off their combat prowess against assorted monsters and, you know, whatever other opponents we can get to volunteer against their will.
Now yes, sure, this setup has some operational costs involved, but they’re a lot less than you might figure — some pocket change and random junk to dole out as prizes, plus maybe a few of those mushan beasties from Pandaria to dangle as prizes for the high-end achievers. But here’s the genius of the whole deal: this guild is set up to make BANK. See, first off, I had them make the Brawler’s Guild an invitation-only tournament. Then, we let a handful of those invitations trickle out to people. So now, word starts to get around about this exclusive tourney, and everybody starts getting curious, and everyone wants in but hardly anyone’s getting invited. So when a few more invitations start becoming available, man oh man, just you watch that gold come pouring in.
So I got all this in motion a few weeks ago. Ji’s whole Noodle Festival thing, though, gave me the perfect occasion to unveil it. We were already going to have crowds of people hanging around the Valley of Honor eating, drinking, and being merry, so what better way to cap the day off than to check out some fucking cage matches, right? We even got to reveal the new name that the Ring of Honor will be sporting in light of the new tournament — the Brawl’gar Arena! Pretty damn badass, right? REBRANDING, BITCHES. (Now I just need to get the ball rolling on that idea I had the other day, because seriously, could “Iron Horde” be a MORE badass-sounding name upgrade for us?)
Now, normally, entry into the Brawl’gar Arena would be exclusive to the guild members, but for the grand opening we let folks into the gallery overlooking the arena floor so they could watch the fun. For a minimal admission fee. So folks flocked on in there fresh off of their noodle festivities, the select few invitees put on a hell of a show, and a good time was had by all. Well, except for the peons who got stuck cleaning up the spilled noodles in the gallery. It turns out that half-drunk people don’t have the best table manners. Go figure.
Anyway, that little taste of the gladitorial goodness, combined with that whole sense of exclusivity surrounding access to membership, were all it took to whip up some serious interest in getting in. So, late into the proceedings, a handful of additional invitations just so happened to turn up at the auction house right outside. Bidding is still going on, but you would not BELIEVE how high the going rates have gotten already. If this keeps up, we might run out of zeroes.
Meanwhile, word keeps getting around, and more people keep digging around for invites, money in hand. So go on, get out there and help the cause — talk it up, tell your friends, remind them what fucking losers they are if they don’t get in on this shit. PEER PRESSURE, motherfucker. REMEMBER — the first rule of Brawler’s Guild is DON’T STOP FUCKING TALKING ABOUT BRAWLER’S GUILD.
Monday mailbag
Quite a bit of mail this time around, so no sense wasting time — let’s get right to it…
I just finished reading your blog from the beginning, which took me a couple of weeks. I was actually looking for a picture of Liadrin, NOT IN THE GURTASH WAY. It was then that I found a comic drawn by Gurtash that had Liadrin in it, specifically the one where we met Shayari, and I thought Garrosh’s daughter WHAT?! And that led to a lot of reading in my free time.
Why was I looking for Liadrin you ask? I make hero concepts for Heroes of the Maelstorm and wanted to add a picture to my post.
So my question is- have you ever played Heroes of the Maelstrom, it made from the same people as the creators of Earth Online and the concept is you take a bunch of people from there, other games, and our own world (because hey who is more badass than who we have running around). If not I recommend it as a change of pace from EO.
–Glen Bloodblade
So, on the one hand, welcome to the blog, Glen. Thanks for reading. On the other hand, what the fuck took you so long, Glen? I mean seriously. Apparently I have to go have a talk with someone in the publicity department. Do we have a publicity department? I would say we should create one if we don’t already, but knowing my luck, it would be packed with the usual fuckwittery that I constantly have surrounding me, so the publicists would run around “advertising” classified military secrets, while meanwhile I have a frigging ghost town of tumbleweeds turning out for my book signing. Again. And I don’t remember fucking seeing YOU there either, Glen, so don’t think for a second YOU’RE off the hook. You watch your ass, Glen. You watch your ass.
Anyway. I can’t say I’ve tried this Heroes of the Maelstrom thing, Glen. Mostly as a matter of self-preservation, really. I figure, Earth Online already sucks up so damn much of my time, the last thing I need is ANOTHER one of these damn games soaking up my days. So I haven’t really tried any other games. Other than that one time when Garona talked me into trying Second Azeroth for like five minutes, but that came to a screeching halt when I wandered into that region full of decked-out scalies, because fuck that shit. I guess I can’t say Spazzle didn’t try to warn me.
Still, this Heroes of the Maelstrom DOES sound pretty badass. Especially if they’re managing to build this into like an all-star team of characters from real life, Earth Online, and all the offshoot universes that they’ve managed to build into other games. Could be fun. I mean, really, just think of it… who’s gonna turn down the chance to have a big barroom brawl, and roll in with a team of Saurfang, Snake-Eyes, Batman, Chewbacca, and Optimus Prime?
(I’m… suddenly a little worried I was able to rattle all those names off the top of my head. Spirits help me, I’m spending too much time around Spazzle.)
I have another one!
“A space goat came travelling on his ship from afar,”
–Valinora Lightshorn
Hey, Valinora. Thanks for writing, other than the fact that you’re apparently human, which would ordinarily draw a big ol’ FUCK YOU, except for the facts that (A) you had the good sense to recognize an EPIC VERSE asskicking when you saw it, and (2), speaking of EPIC VERSE, you seem to be stepping right into the role of setting up the ol’ masterpieces for me.
So, sure, fine by me. You want to keep giving me these prompts, I’ll keep making with the EPIC. Oh, and this one looks pretty rich, too… you want me to opine lyrically on the voyages of the space goats, huh? Okay, you asked for it. Strap in, bitches.
A space goat came traveling on his ship from afar,
Twas thousands of years since his mission did start;
He thought Oshu’gun was a good place to park,
And he fell from the sky like a star, a burning star…
The space goats were led by their prophet for years;
They’d fled their home planet of Argus in fear.
Old Velen resolved he was going to steer clear
Of his brothers, consumed by the Legion… so off they raced.
They flew to a planet; I cannot say which.
Kil’jaeden pursued; Velen played bait-and-switch.
Collateral damage — I know it’s a bitch,
But the space goats, they’re making their omelettes… so QQ, eggs.
And they QQ’ed, AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
They died at the hands of the Legion, while the drae’s got away.
From planet to planet, for thousands of years,
Old Velen kept bailin’, till he wound up here.
Then — who would’ve guessed it? — the Legion appeared.
And they were the gift that kept giving, so yeah, thanks, drae’s.
And that’s how the space goats wound up in this war,
But buyer beware if you build that rapport:
The first sign of trouble, they’re out the back door,
And they’ll stick you to pick up their mess, another time…
And you’ll QQ, AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
You’ll die at the hands of the Legion, while the drae’s get away.
(You don’t have to hold your breath waiting!)
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
(It’s just a matter of when, not if, believe me!)
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH
(They won’t even share any of that OP tech of theirs or anything!)
AAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAAAAAH AAH AAH AAAAH
(Not even the specs for the buses they’re gonna throw you under!)
You’ll die at the hands of the Legion, while the drae’s get away…
EPIC VERSE!
Once again, glad to see things worked out with Blackfuse. Now, though, I’ve got a little down-time – well, actually, a lot of down time – and could use a job or two to keep me on my toes. You got anything I can do for you?
–Grotee Metalbeard, Goblin Shaman
Huh. Grottee, are you feeling okay? I guess I shouldn’t jinx a good thing, but man, you got in and out of that letter faster than it takes Sarlin to ramble through her greeting.
Not complaining, mind you. Grats on making the short list of people around here who actually fucking LISTEN.
Anyhow, Grottee, since you were my source for that Tome of Dinomancy, which I’m still keeping safe and secure in my quarters where it can be ready to take back to Pandaria with me and safely out of range of any other, um, incendiary cooking experiments by Shayari… um… Where was I going with this? I think that sentence kind of got away from me once I became momentarily consumed with concern about my home possibly burning to the ground over an arcane-powered loaf of bread.
OH. RIGHT. Jobs I can send you on. And I assume you mean ACTUAL jobs that really have a useful purpose, not the random busywork jobs we give out to random noobs to keep them out of everyone’s hair. (You know, kill seven of these, collect six of these, five gold rings, everything but a partridge in a motherfucking pear tree. I have to admit, though, the ones that crack me up the most are the ones where we make people go digging through piles of poop, and the fuckers run right out and do it.)
So since you were my Tome source, Grottee, why don’t you head down to Pandaria and check in with General Nazgrim. Now, mind you, he’s under orders not to move ahead on Operation Dinosaurs Yippee Ki-Yay until I get down there in a week or so, but then, he was ALSO under orders not to move ahead before, and he still saw fit to screw his head squarely up his ass trying to go off the script. And got that lunkhead asshole Steve eaten and shat out by a dino while he was at it. (SPEAKING OF POOP QUESTS.)
Wish I had some good news from the Blackfuse Company, but-ah-I kinda had a weird run in a couple of days ago. Some blond elf kid came an’ bought my entire supply of leftover Face Melters. They just weren’t sellin’, even outta Booty Bay! So, this kid got ’em for a song. No, literally. He sang for ’em. Somethin’ about a dead horse. What was the name? Sparkles? Eh, it don’t matter. I didn’t even have a chance to explain the risks to him. Especially in that leather armor he was wearin’. He did sign the indemnity waiver that disavows me of all legal and moral responsibility though. Thank the laws of physics for mooks who don’t take the time to read, even if it, say, had directions to Gallywix’s secret gold an’ dirty magazine vault hidden away out there.
The weird part? Not even a day later, an’ I’m ridin’ my custom-fitted chopper ’round Ashenvale to go an’ help out your guys at the Warsong Lumber Mill with some defective shredders. All of a sudden, the forest shakes, glitter’s rainin’ down from the trees, an’ I come across one very charred but very alive tauren woman an’ that elf kid! She was screamin’ an’ yellin’ about “That’s the last you’ll see of old Magatha!” while limpin’ away through the trees! That ain’t somethin’ ya see every day! An’ that damn kid, he just didn’t give up! Charred to hell, clothes burnt to cinders, an’ he hobbles after her, firin’ off Face Melter after Face Melter! I had to run for cover because I did NOT want to be on the receivin’ end of that blast. Between explosions an’ hackin’ up glitter, I heard him yellin’ “I AM JOHNNY AWESOME! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!” I don’t think that elf’s right in the head. HE TOOK OUT MY DAMNED CHOPPER WITH HIS EXPLOSIVES! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG A WALK IT IS BACK TO BILGEWATER HARBOR WHEN YOU’VE GOT LITTLE LEGS?! I’m currently camped out at the rear gate. Maybe I should pick up the parts for a new chopper while I’m in the neighborhood, huh?
–Glessee “Glitch” Sparkbolt
Okay, Glessee, ordinarily I would give you some obligatory “hello”s and “how are you”s, but right now we’ve got more important things to deal with. Namely, let me make sure I’m getting all this straight. So… what you’re telling me is… the leather-wearing, sparkle-pony-mourning JOHNNY AWESOME —
WHO I HATE, ever since he helped Magatha that time — bought up a stash of defective weapons… and then used them, for whatever spirits-forsaken reason, to go after fucking MAGATHA GRIMTOTEM — WHO I HATE MORE, ever since, well, seriously, where do I even fucking START? — and the whole thing ended up with the two of them burned to a crisp and charred all to hell and stumbling all cinder-like through Ashenvale?
…
Okay, dude, you know what? I know that for the last, I don’t know, FOREVER, I’ve held an unwavering stance of “FUCKING TIME TRAVEL,” but I might have to make an exception here, because goddamn would I love to go back and witness that happening live. I could spread that sight over bread and eat it for fucking dinner. Hot damn. HA! <snort>
Glad to see you still have new and inventive ways to embarrass yourself in front of your daughter. Congrats on alienating the only family you have.
–Varian Wrynn, Stormwind
Oh, hey, Varian, Nice to see you’ve got time in your schedule to write, seeing as I’m sure sucking as hard as you do must take a load of time and effort. Actually, speaking of which, let me cover this before I forget. I AM kind of in EPIC VERSE mode today, and I know you’ve always appreciated my handiwork, so here, here’s one for you on the house:
Two roads diverged in the Elwynn wood
A mere stone’s cast from House of Wrynn,
And for a while, there alone you stood
And weighed, down one path, the likelihood
Of sights of dread at the Goldshire Inn.
You turned to the other winding path
To the northern abbey’s questing hubs.
Even you could do the mental math:
In Goldshire, your brain would need a bath;
Abbey north would just be full of scrubs.
You chose the north road to navigate,
Where fewer leaves had been trodden back.
A visit to Goldshire Inn could wait;
Perhaps one day if you had a date:
You doubted if you should ever come back.
One day you’ll tell this with much ado;
You’ll pardon if I spoil the suspense:
Two roads diverged in the wood, and you–
You chose the one less traveled through.
But that made no difference, because you still suck.
Fuck you, Varian.
Again I say — EPIC VERSE!
But before I give you the finger and send you on your way, I should probably address your point. I mean, you DID pull your head out of your ass long enough to… actually, now that I look back at what you wrote, you didn’t really pull your head out of your ass for that at all, did you? Probably just as well, seeing as having your head constantly jammed up your ass just means your face will be close enough to kiss it goodbye next time I see you. But, either way, I should probably address your point, assheaded though it was.
So, speaking of being an embarrassment to your kid, well, here, let me let one of your fellow readers make my point for me…
I write to you, not as an ally of Stormwind. Seriously, fuck that idiot King. I’d have half a mind of giving him the Garona Special, but she is one of the few things I fear. I write to you to extend a hand of peace and understanding, being a child of two worlds like your own daughter. My mother was a human. My father was a Blackrock Orc. I know not of what became of either of my parents. As for my peace offering, well, following in the footsteps of another halfbreed rogue does have its benefits! If only I understood these bizarre goblin and gnomish devices better, I could have captured him singing one of those annoying Earth Online pop songs!
Enjoy!
–Shakis Addington
So… Shakis… I mean, I’m sure there’s… hehe… there’s plenty for me to… heh… to comment on your family background… <chuckle> …and I could probably make a… hehehe… a smartassy comment about being offered a “Garona Special” of my own a time or two, but… ha… hahaha… I mean… <chortle> …oh seriously, you know I can’t get past that… that… THAT!
HAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAA!
Ahem. Okay. So… um…
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
Heh. Hehehehehehe.
Okay! Hehehe… Okay, so, to recap for all of you, I just had one reader notify me that Johnny Awesome bought a load of unstable armaments, went after Magatha Grimtotem, and got both of them blown nearly to the Nether in the process. And THEN, and then…
HeheheHEHEHEHE HAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!
I mean really, dude, do you realize… a shark could bite my dick off right now, and this would STILL count as an awesome day.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA…
That’s it for now. I just… I need to go and… like… I don’t know, do something happy.
More soon.
<GIGGLESNORT>
[The Warchief’s next mailbag will be Monday, April 4. Send your questions, comments, or other missives to Garrosh via or email or, as always, using the handy-dandy for below:]
Horde Iron Chef (part 2)
[This is usually the part where a writer would try to build in some catch-up exposition for the benefit of anyone who missed the first part, but you know what? Screw it. If you’re here at all, you’re probably on board with the idea of continuity. Nobody’s fault but your own if you’re confused! Moving on!]
LIADRIN: I wouldn’t mind trying some of that myself, Warchief.
GARROSH: Coming up.
LIADRIN: Would you like some, Salandria?
SALANDRIA: That’s okay. You can be the guinea pig for now.
While Garrosh serves up a bowl of noodles to Liadrin, Korrina and Kulkesh enter.
RUEKIE: Hi guys!
KORRINA: Hey.
KULKESH: Greetings, Captain. It’s–
Kulkesh trails off as Garrosh turns to them. He and Korrina stare for a moment.
KORRINA: Um.
KULKESH: Uh… that is… hi, sir. It’s… you really did get into the spirit of things, didn’t you, Captain…?
KORRINA: All I’m going to say is, um, you must be incredibly secure in yourself, sir…
GARROSH: Why is EVERYONE reacting like this?
SHAYARI: Would you like the reasons alphabetically, chronologically, or in order of how much they make me want to wear a bucket over my head for the next thousand years or so?
GARROSH: Okay, that’s it — NO NOODLES FOR YOU!
KULKESH: How are you feeling, Gurt?
GURTASH: Not bad. I mean, I’m still a little sore. And I’m still checking in with the healers every couple of days. But I’m pretty much recovered at this point.
KULKESH: Cool. You know, if you hadn’t come around soon, we were going to head over to Blackrock Spire and go dragon hunting ourselves.
KORRINA: Yeah, we were going to go all Wrathion on their asses.
GURTASH: Heh. I appreciate it, guys.
LIADRIN: I’m glad the healers are nearly done with your injuries, Gurtash. If you ever think it might help, I’m happy to cast a Flash of Light or two, although, granted, my areas of expertise are more in the realm of protection than healing.
MOKVAR: Too bad you weren’t with us in the Spire. We probably could have used a tank up there.
SHAYARI: Pip especially.
RUEKIE: Speaking of which, kind of, has anybody seen Mirembe?
KORRINA: She’s around here somewhere. We ran into her at one of the noodle stands.
KULKESH: I don’t know if she was going to stick around, though.
GURTASH: How come?
KORRINA: Oh, something about that Lantresor guy.
KULKESH: I think she ran into him while she was trying some food, and he made some comment about her weight, or something.
KORRINA: “Potbelly,” was it?
KULKESH: Yeah, I think so.
SHAYARI: Oh, spirits, THAT guy.
GURTASH: You know him?
SHAYARI: We’ve talked a couple times since he came to Orgrimmar. He’s a piece of work, let me tell you. Always going on and on about “oh, children of two worlds,” and “oh, we are alike, you and I,” and “you are not alone,” and “you are not alone,” and “ohh — did I mention? — you are not alone,” and I’m like, okay, I get it, I’m not alone, you’re making me wish I was, Professor YANA.
KORRINA: Old people are weird.
SALANDRIA: How old?
LIADRIN: Don’t start.
Ji enters, accompanied by Spazzle and Giska.
GARROSH: Ah, perfect, just the pudgeball I was looking for.
JI: Hello, Garrosh! Everyone!
SPAZZLE: Hey boss.
MOKVAR: Afternoon, Ji. Everything finally set up?
JI: Almost. Not quite. There’s an even better turnout than I’d expected!
SPAZZLE: Which means even more setup for us to do on the fly…
MOKVAR: How did he rope you into this anyway, Spaz?
GARROSH: Yeah, Pea Pod, I would’ve figured he’d have plenty of pandas to call in on this, seeing as, you know, this IS a panda festival.
JI: Oh, many of the Huojin have been busy working on the festival, sir. But they’ve mostly been cooking.
SPAZZLE: Which left plenty more setup work that Ji needed me to lend a hand with. At an hourly rate, anyway.
JI: Wait, you meant that? I thought you were joking!
SPAZZLE: Hey, I’ve got billing rules to follow! I’m in a union, you know!
MOKVAR: I thought it was a cartel.
SPAZZLE: We’re goblins! Same difference!
JI: But we’re friends!
SPAZZLE: Yeah, well, time is money, friend!
GARROSH: So listen, Deep Dish, you have somewhere I can set up? Probably with some space around it, for when people start flocking to get a taste of my stuff here.
Korrina, Gurtash, Kulkesh, and Giska all turn to look at Ruekie.
RUEKIE: <aside> I’m not saying anything!
KORRINA: <aside> You’re sure? You looked like you were about to say something.
RUEKIE: <aside> No no no, I’m keeping my mouth shut from now on! Every time I open my mouth, somebody sticks– hoooooo boy I almost did it again! Whew!
JI: Well, Garrosh… hmm. I still need to set up a few stations, but…
GARROSH: <pointing> What about right over here? Looks like you’ve got a couple spots.
JI: Well, yes, one of those is reserved, but I suppose you can take the other. Do you need a hand setting up?
GARROSH: Pfft, what’s there to set up?
Garrosh drops his pot on the table with a heavy thud.
OH HEY, we’ve got a cooking fire here and everything.
JI: Oh yes, several of the stations have them. Many of our participants are cooking right here on the premises!
GARROSH: Ah, nice, this way I can whip up a little MORE of this stuff, seeing as we’re probably gonna go through it pretty quick, even before we figure in Mokvar’s little pink friend.
MOKVAR: Uh, yeah, sorry about that again.
GARROSH: Actually… here.
Garrosh reaches over to Mokvar and yanks a page from his pack, sending some of his inscription gear spilling to the ground.
MOKVAR: <gathering his belongings> You know you could have just asked.
GARROSH: <scribbling on the page> Yeah, yeah, boo hoo. You two, front and center.
Korrina and Kulkesh go to Garrosh.
KULKESH: Yes, sir!
GARROSH: Giska, you too.
Giska joins them.
I assume you’re done with her now, Lunchbox.
JI: Actually, Warchief, we still–
GARROSH: My trainee, your student, I outrank you, done, boom.
JI: Oh bother…
GARROSH: <handing the paper to Giska> Okay, you three. Zip over to the market by Grommash Hold and pick up the stuff on this list for me.
KULKESH: Yes, sir!
GISKA: <scanning the list> Uh, just one thing, Captain. This looks like a lot — what do we do for money?
GARROSH: You tell the vendors you’re there on orders of the Warchief, and boy this is a nice little shop you’ve got here, and it sure would be a goddamn shame if somebody went and got blood stains all over it.
KORRINA: <clapping once and rubbing her hands together> Talkin’ my language, sir. On it!
GARROSH: Okay. Off with the lot of you.
While Giska, Korrina, and Kulkesh run off, Faranell enters, sporting a jaw that’s conspicuously mismatched with the rest of his face.
LIADRIN: Doctor! Good afternoon. You’re looking… um… well.
MOKVAR: Edwin! It’s good to see… see you… erm… you… Uh, yeah… so I guess we’ve both gone through some changes since last time I saw you, but…
SHAYARI: Difference is, Beardy, your changes get a lot less obvious once you dip into the back of your closet…
FARANELL: Ah, yes, the ideal person to comment on the current state of my appearance.
SHAYARI: Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t know how to duck fast enough, Eddie!
GARROSH: Hey, Doc, you…
Garrosh stares at Faranell a moment.
Okay, so…
Garrosh stares a moment longer.
I know I might end up regretting I asked this, but…
FARANELL: It’s a loaner. I’m just using it while my regular jaw is in the shop.
GARROSH: I… see.
MOKVAR: Gotta say, Edwin, you Forsaken have a really weird way of life sometimes.
FARANELL: Fancy that, that a community of reanimated corpses might have certain oddities in their cultural norms.
MOKVAR: Uh… right.
SALANDRIA: Wait, his… his jaw is in the shop? Did I hear that right?
LIADRIN: Yes, Dr. Faranell had a bit of an incident involving his jaw.
FARANELL: Yes, much in the same sense that Theramore had something of an incident involving the Focusing Iris.
SALANDRIA: What happened?
GARROSH: Oh geez, here we go…
FARANELL: Mana bomb.
SALANDRIA: No, not that!
GARROSH: Oh for FUCK’S sake.
SALANDRIA: I know that part! I mean your jaw!
SHAYARI: Cue the QQ. Or, you know, Q^3.
FARANELL: Suffice to say that my freshly harvested and installed jaw suffered some structural damage when I attempted to dissuade my would-be erstwhile apprentice from racing after her newly discovered father to a ruined dragon’s lair.
SHAYARI: And you know, there isn’t one single part of that sentence that would be possible if any of us led normal lives.
FARANELL: And, incidentally, just to put the button on the whole sordid affair, I am still waiting for certain reimbursements to be made.
GARROSH: Oh, for fuck’s sake. I… okay, FINE. After we’re done with the whole noodle thing here, I’ll get your damn gold. Are you fucking HAPPY now?
FARANELL: Beside myself with delirium. Bear in mind, also, that in light of the time that’s passed, certain sums of interest have accrued.
GARROSH: Fucking hell, are you kidding me? INTEREST now?!
SPAZZLE: Hey, don’t look at me. He came up with that on his own.
GARROSH: Please don’t tell me you trudged out here just to be a pain in the ass over this.
FARANELL: Oh hardly.
GARROSH: Yeah, good.
FARANELL: I’m a mage. I can teleport. I didn’t have to trudge at all.
Speaking of trudging, Malkorok returns doing just that, with Garrosh’s extra pot of noodles still in hand.
SHAYARI: Anyhow, I don’t think Eddie popped over to join the party, Pops.
Malkorok approaches Garrosh’s station and drops his pot on the counter.
MALKOROK: <aside> I’ve spoken to the guards who were charged with overseeing this area.
MOKVAR: Well, if I remember right, undead don’t really have that much of a sense of taste, so…
GARROSH: <aside> Good. What did they have to say for themselves?
MALKOROK: <aside> Very little. I’ll speak to their widows tomorrow.
SALANDRIA: Oh wow, you can’t taste anything? That must suck.
GARROSH: <aside> Yeah, send them a ham or something.
FARANELL: Not quite. We Forsaken have a sense of taste, just a muted one. It’s why I typically favor spicy foods, since the stronger flavors are more perceptible.
GARROSH: Huh. Well, in that case, Doc, you’re probably gonna like these. <spoons out a serving from his pot> These ought to have enough of a kick that you should–
Garrosh starts to hand the bowl to Faranell; as he does, Deliana unstealths and grabs it from Garrosh’s hand.
DELIANA: Another helping? Don’t mind if I do!
Deliana stealths again and vanishes.
MALKOROK: What–?!
GARROSH: Um.
MOKVAR: Don’t look at me.
GARROSH: <spinning back to Malkorok> HEY, MALK, IT SURE WOULD BE AWESOME IF WE HAD A LITTLE SECURITY IN THE FUCKING CAPITAL CITY!
MALKOROK: <grumbling> Yes, sir… I’ll be back again…
Malkorok starts to storm off, passing Mokvar.
One day you’ll be called to account for your odious taste in friends, scribe.
MOKVAR: I don’t know where you got the idea we were friends.
Malkorok grumbles more and marches off.
GARROSH: Okay, well, I’ll hook you up with another serving in a second here, Doc…
FARANELL: No need, really. I’m mainly here for work reasons.
GARROSH: Work reasons? How?
MOKVAR: You’ve known him long enough that you should probably know better than to ask that question.
FARANELL: Research, and potential sample collection. I figured that at an event like this, someone was bound to produce something usefully toxic, just by the law of averages.
GARROSH: Ah.
JI: Oh, no, Dr. Edwin, I can assure you everyone here is being very careful with their food.
FARANELL: Yes, I suppose, but one can always hope.
Faranell reaches into his cloak and produces an empty vial.
Now don’t mind me; I’m just going to hover around a bit in case someone — cross fingers — turns green.
MOKVAR: Hmph. Or turns chalky white and drops dead?
FARANELL: Touche.
GARROSH: By the way, Lunchbox, are there any kind of prizes for this shindig? Any judges who’ll be coming around that I should be looking to impress and not at all threaten with physical violence, no not at all?
JI: No, sir, no prizes. The only competition in an event like this is with oneself!
GARROSH: Yeah, I should have figured you pandas would be a little too touchy-feely for a straight-up contest.
JI: Not so! The Noodle Festival is meant to be a day of community and sharing, yes, but there’s a long Pandaren tradition of competitive cooking as well!
MOKVAR: You guys really do take your food seriously, don’t you?
SPAZZLE: You wouldn’t have to ask that if you’d been with us shopping this morning.
LIADRIN: What kind of cooking contests do you have, Ji?
JI: Well, one of our most honored customs is… well, the name doesn’t quite translate precisely, but I suppose the nearest approximation would be… “Iron Chef.” It’s a competition in which challengers are given a secret ingredient without notice and must prepare a gourmet meal with it in a limited window of time.
SPAZZLE: That actually sounds kind of cool.
MOKVAR: Spazz, you live on cheap take-out.
SPAZZLE: I know, but this has a whole mad scientist angle that I can appreciate.
FARANELL: Indeed, not to mention that rushed food preparation leaves ample room for hazardous contaminants to come into play. Not that anyone would wish for such a terrible thing, of course.
JI: Based on how well the festival is being received, perhaps we could adapt the competition for the Horde as well!
MOKVAR: Sort of a Horde Iron Chef? Or… Iron Horde Chef? Or… I don’t know, something like that, I guess.
GARROSH: I don’t know about the contest, but fuck, I LOVE the ring of “Iron Horde” — that sounds fucking BADASS, dude.
SHAYARI: Maybe you should look into rebranding, Pops.
GARROSH: MAYBE I SHOULD.
Dontrag, Utvoch, and Taktani enter, carrying boxes.
Don’t think I won’t get right on that shit and…
Dontrag et al start putting their boxes down at the station next to Garrosh.
And…
UTVOCH: Greetings, Warchief!
GARROSH: <turns to Ji> You’re fucking kidding me, right?
TAKTANI: Ooh everybody’s here! And we get to be next to Mr. Warchief! This is going to be so fun! Yay!
GARROSH: Oh fuck me…
RUEKIE: <aside> Oh, sure, he says that and nobody bats an eye…
DONTRAG: A pleasure to see you as always, your supreme Warchieferousness, sir!
GARROSH: Maybe if I don’t make eye contact they’ll assume I don’t know they’re there…
UTVOCH: Sir?
TAKTANI: Mr. Warchief?
JI: Yes, sir. <turning to Dontrag and Utvoch> Well then, Utvoch… Dontrag…
DONTRAG: I’m Dontrag. He’s Utvoch.
UTVOCH: Oh man. I knew I should have brought the letter…
JI: Oh. Okay. Well, your cooking station is ready. I’m looking forward to finding out what you’re making for us!
DONTRAG: Yeah, so are we.
JI: Pardon?
UTVOCH: Well, we don’t really have a recipe that we’re using.
JI: Oh…?
MOKVAR: Uh oh…
DONTRAG: We don’t know any noodle recipes, so we figured we’d just grab a bunch of ingredients and see what we could come up with on the fly!
GARROSH: Yeah, I don’t see any way that this could go wrong…
FARANELL: Now now, let’s not be hasty. I may be about to hit pay dirt.
TAKTANI: Oh hiiiiii Dr. Zombie!
FARANELL: Oh dear.
TAKTANI: I’m super happy to see you again!
Shayari giggles.
MOKVAR: Wait, she knows Edwin?
LIADRIN: I believe she met him a time or two when I first accompanied Shayari to Orgrimmar.
MOKVAR: And I missed this?
SHAYARI: I might possibly have maybe brought her with me a couple weeks ago when I went to the Undercity for a mage lesson, too. Possibly.
GARROSH: Oh, yeah, piss off the creditor even more.
TAKTANI: It was fun! I like Zombie Town! It’s kind of stinky, but that’s okay — it’s like a big haunted house! BOO! Hee hee!
SHAYARI: Kind of like it’s Hallow’s End all the time, right, Tak?
TAKTANI: I knowwwwww!
FARANELL: Must you encourage her?
GARROSH: Right there with you, Doc…
TAKTANI: Ooh! Ooh! Do you do Hallow’s End costumes in Zombie Town, Dr. Zombie? What are you going to be this year??
FARANELL: Far, far, away, Dark Lady permitting.
TAKTANI: Oh. <scratches her head> I don’t know what that looks like, but I bet it’ll be fun!
SHAYARI: You’ll have to go with me again so you can see, Tak!
TAKTANI: Yay! I get to come visit again! Won’t that be fun, Dr. Zombie?
FARANELL: Oh yes. My heart is utterly overflowing with joy.
TAKTANI: Yay! Hee hee!
FARANELL: Or possibly infectious bile. It’s hard to tell. My heart hasn’t beaten in over a decade, after all.
TAKTANI: <blinks> Huh?
FARANELL: Nothing to trouble yourself over. Just think of my heart as you would, say, your brain.
GARROSH: Lot of that going around with this crew, Doc.
DONTRAG: I don’t get it.
GARROSH: Case in point.
FARANELL: Indeed.
Giska, Korrina, and Kulkesh return with several large packages, which they put down at Garrosh’s station.
KULKESH: Good news, sir — Olvia just got some fresh talbuk steaks in.
GARROSH: <sorting through packages> Good deal. You kids get everything?
KORRINA: I think so, Captain. The vendors kind of fumbled their way through the whole order.
GISKA: Maybe next time don’t start breaking fingers right away?
KORRINA: Maybe next time mofos don’t get lippy.
GARROSH: Yeah, well, here, now that you’ve all earned your keep, have some grub.
Garrosh passes bowls of noodles to Giska, Korrina, and Kulkesh.
GISKA: Thanks, Captain!
KULKESH: Smells good, sir.
LIADRIN: I must say, Garrosh, I’m surprised — these are quite good.
GARROSH: Why is everyone always shocked out of their minds any time they find out I can do something other than punch people and scratch my ass?
MOKVAR: To be fair, you don’t exactly project complexity…
LIADRIN: You said these were a family recipe, Warchief?
GISKA: They’re not bad, Captain.
GARROSH: Kind of. I sort of improvised around something Greatmother used to make back in Nagrand.
LIADRIN: Did she teach you?
GARROSH: Not really, I just — what’s with you, Korrina? Something wrong with your food?
KORRINA: Uh, not really, sir. <poking awkwardly at her noodles with chopsticks> I mean, they look good, and they smell good… I’ll let you know how they taste once I figure out how to use these damn things.
KULKESH: They’re a little awkward at first, yeah, but they’re not so bad once you get used to them.
SHAYARI: <reaching back and adjusting the chopsticks in her hair> Oh, hey, is that what these things are supposed to be for? I was wondering why they were giving them out.
Korrina starts to pick up some noodles with her chopsticks, only to have them slip loose and drop back into her bowl.
KORRINA: Ugh — yeah, this isn’t so bad at all…
GISKA: No no, try like this… see, you keep one of them balanced against your thumb, and…
Korrina takes another stab at her food with the chopsticks, but loses her grip, sending one chopstick — and most of the noodles she was picking up — spilling onto the ground.
KORRINA: Dammit! <throws her other chopstick down> Oh hell with it…
Korrina reaches over to Ruekie and snaps one of the ornamental forks off of her shoulder guards, then uses it to pick up some noodles.
RUEKIE: Hey!
KORRINA: There.
RUEKIE: Aw, man…
DONTRAG: Uh, Ut, what did you put into those?
UTVOCH: Huh? I didn’t put anything. I just cooked the noodles.
DONTRAG: But they’re all gooey or something.
TAKTANI: That was me, Mr. D!
UTVOCH: You added something? What did you put in there?
TAKTANI: Cheese!
DONTRAG: Wait, what? Cheese doesn’t… I mean, how does that even work?
TAKTANI: <blinks> Um… I like cheese!
UTVOCH: You know, this doesn’t smell half bad…
TAKTANI: So noodles are good, and cheese is good, so now they can all be good together!
DONTRAG: Tak, you can’t just… I mean, who puts cheese in noodles?
TAKTANI: I’d take it out if you want, Mr. D, but it’s all melty now!
UTVOCH: It actually smells pretty good…
DONTRAG: Noodles and cheese? Really?
UTVOCH: <eating some of the noodles> Donty, seriously, try some of this…
TAKTANI: Do you like it? Yay!
KULKESH: Hey, you know, that does smell pretty good over there…
While Kulkesh, Korrina, and Giska make their way over to Dontrag and Utvoch’s station, Malkorok returns.
MALKOROK: I’ve put additional patrols around the gates, Warchief. It would of course be easier if so many of these… people… weren’t wandering around, but it should suffice for now.
GARROSH: Yeah, well, we can’t exactly barricade off half the city.
MALKOROK: Yes, sir.
KULKESH: Oh wow, this really does taste good!
GISKA: Noodles and cheese — who would’ve guessed?
Ji leans over Dontrag, Utvoch, and Taktani’s pot while Gurtash, Ruekie, and Salandria gather around.
JI: <sniffing> Ooh, a triumphant culinary experiment, I see! Don’t mind if I try some myself…
Ji reaches over Dontrag’s shoulder and scoops some noodles into his (cartoonishly oversized) bowl.
GARROSH: What the… does that crap even have any damn MEAT in it?
TAKTANI: Oh don’t worry, Mr. Warchief! Nobody had to hurt any poor animals for this!
GARROSH: For fuck’s sake, the murder’s the tastiest part!
MOKVAR: I don’t know, boss, looks like they’re starting to draw a following.
Spazzle eyes the passersby who have started to gather around D&U&T’s station, then leans up to try to peek in their pot.
SPAZZLE: Huh… Uh, Tak?
TAKTANI: Hi, Mr. Goblin!
SPAZZLE: Uh, yeah, hi. So… what kind of cheese did you put in there?
TAKTANI: Oh, nothing fancy, Mr. Goblin. Just regular old cheddar!
SPAZZLE: Huh… that stuff barely costs a few silver…
TAKTANI: We could use another kind if you’d like it more!
SPAZZLE: No, it’s not that, just… Uh, Utvoch? Aren’t those noodles the kind they have in those little packets from Pandaria?
UTVOCH: Oh, yeah, that’s why I got them. They’re crazy cheap — they’re only something like eight copper a pack, so you can get a ton of them and barely spend anything.
SPAZZLE: Yeah, uh, that’s what I thought.
Spazzle looks at the growing line, then thinks a moment.
So… how would you guys feel about a business venture…?
UTVOCH: Uh… maybe?
GARROSH: Okay, fuck it, I have to see what the big fucking deal is with this crap.
Garrosh shoves Utvoch out of the way and scoops some of the noodles and cheese into a bowl.
It doesn’t even SMELL like anything special, I don’t know why there’s people coming out of the damn woodwork to–
Deliana unstealths and lifts the bowl out of Garrosh’s hands.
DELIANA: Oh, you need a taste tester? Sure thing, Garry!
Deliana stealths again and disappears.
GARROSH: <spinning back to Malkorok> WHAT AM I PAYING YOU FOR?!
So, you know. That went about as well as anything else I fucking try to do around here. I really might have to look into that “Iron Horde” thing, though. It seriously does sound fucking badass.
More soon.
Horde Iron Chef (part 1)
So today was kind of a festive day in Orgrimmar. Ever since the pandas came to town, Ji’s been pestering me off and on to let him introduce some of his traditional panda customs. Which struck me as kind of funny, seeing as pretty much any tavern or eatery owner who’s found their stock of food suddenly, totally depleted within like twenty minutes of ol’ Stuffed-With-Fluff waddling in the door has already gotten pretty damn familiar with the only real panda custom I know about. Still, though, Ji keep insisting there were some traditional events in panda custom that he thought would carry over pretty well. I was still kind of on the fence, but then I guess Lunchbox got in Spazzle’s ear about it (not hard to do, really, because LOOK AT THOSE EARS, right?) (HAHA I crack myself up sometimes), and then Spazzle got Boss Mida from the Bilgewater goblins into the loop on it, and then the word “sponsorships” came up, and did I MENTION teenage daughters are fucking expensive?
By the way, if you haven’t gotten your insurance straightened out, you totally should look into it.
Stop looking at me like that, dammit. An orc’s gotta put food on the table. And… apparently… dozens of outfits in the closet. Ugh.
But yeah, NOW we were in business. Like literally.
So the particular tradition in question in this case was this thing called the Pandaren Noodle Festival. Now, anybody who’s been over to Pandaria is probably pretty aware that those pandas love them some noodles. Look over any panda menu and you’re going to find noodles all over the place. And so apparently, in a lot of their villages, once a year they have a big festival where everyone in town whips up their best noodle dishes, usually family recipes or whatever, and everybody samples everybody else’s and sort of spends the day hanging out with music and booze and whatever else. And then everybody puts on like eleven pounds but who the hell even notices because pandas.
Anyhow, though, it sounded like a fun enough time, and with all the crap that’s gone on lately, people could probably use a morale boost, so I let Ji and some of his buddies go ahead and plan a big ol’ outdoor festival down in the Valley of Honor. We cleared out some space and let them set up some tables and kiosks, and I hear tell Deep-Dish has managed to get folks from all over the place to sign on to come contribute some grub. I even got Zaela to send up a few kegs of special dwarven brew that her people collected from some Wildhammer dwarves who apparently stumbled across some sort of mishap where they were caught outside during a storm and were mysteriously chopped up with axes. So, you know, a little more variety for the booze.
It’s been going on for most of the day today, and I have to say it seems like a pretty good time so far. We’ve got people dropping by Orgrimmar from all over to join the party. I’m even going to try to swing by myself once I get one last thing finished up here…
Liadrin, with a young blood elf girl in tow, approaches Mokvar, who’s munching on a bowl of noodles at one of the kiosks.
LIADRIN: Hello, Mokvar. It’s been too long.
MOKVAR: Liadrin! It’s good to see you again.
LIADRIN: I’m glad you’re finally back home. Things are smoothed over with Garrosh?
MOKVAR: They’re…a work in progress. But I’m managing. You’re in town for the festival, I’m guessing?
LIADRIN: After a fashion. I’ve actually been visiting Orgrimmar fairly regularly to help with Shayari since she arrived. When my duties in Silvermoon allow, of course.
MOKVAR: Right, so… I mean… is she really… you know… Garrosh’s daughter?
LIADRIN: That’s what all of Dr. Faranell’s tests indicate. If she’s a fraud, she’s a spectacularly effective one.
MOKVAR: How is Edwin, anyway?
LIADRIN: He’s well, so far as one can tell with him. I believe he’s around here some– Ah! Here she comes.
Shayari enters.
Shayari! A pleasure to see you.
SHAYARI: Hey, Liadrin. Beardy.
MOKVAR: Mokvar.
SHAYARI: Whatever.
LIADRIN: Shay, I’d like to introduce you to someone. Both of you, actually. This is my daughter, Salandria.
MOKVAR: I didn’t know you had children, Liadrin.
LIADRIN: I adopted Salandria some years ago, in the late stages of the Outland campaign. Initially to begin her training as a paladin, though she’s…currently exploring other career options.
SALANDRIA: In other words, she’s letting me take a year off to work on my music.
LIADRIN: <sighs> We all need some time “find” ourselves, I suppose… I’ve changed classes twice myself over the years, so I’m hardly one to criticize.
MOKVAR: Yeah, right there with you.
LIADRIN: At any rate. Being as Salandria is a bit younger than the other paladin trainees, I thought it might be nice for her to have the chance to make some friends from within her peer group, or close to it. Salandria, this is Mokvar, and Shayari.
SHAYARI: <waving> Hey.
SALANDRIA: Hi.
SHAYARI: Oh, hey, cool guitar!
SALANDRIA: Thanks.
MOKVAR: Do you lug that thing around everywhere? It looks pretty heavy.
SALANDRIA: A little, but you never know when inspiration is going to strike!
LIADRIN: As our neighbors in Silvermoon have become painfully aware…
SALANDRIA: Yeah, yeah, I bet they wouldn’t complain if I was playing… like… I don’t know… the harp or something. I bet that placeholder regent guy plays one of those.
LIADRIN: You mean Regent-Lord Theron.
SHALANDRIA: Yeah, that guy.
SHAYARI: You’ll get along well with Pops if you keep taking shots at Whosy-Whatsy like that.
MOKVAR: Is Garrosh around here?
LIADRIN: I haven’t seen him so far.
SHAYARI: I think he said something about coming by.
MOKVAR: Well, if nothing else, he’s not really one to miss a party, so…
SALANDRIA: Oh, hey, sounds like I really would hit it off with ol’ Garry.
LIADRIN and MOKVAR: No.
SHAYARI: Really, seriously, don’t.
SALANDRIA: Huh?
Gurtash and Ruekie enter, holding noodle bowls, and approach the group.
MOKVAR: Do not call him that.
SHAYARI: For real.
GURTASH: Don’t call who what?
SHAYARI: Pops, “Garry.”
RUEKIE: Oh jeepers, no!
GURTASH: No no no no no, don’t do that!
SALANDRIA: Yeesh, why?
SHAYARI: He does not like it when people call him that. For some reason.
MOKVAR: He’s killed for less.
GURTASH: Like, literally.
SALANDRIA: Huh. Okay…
LIADRIN: And hello, Gurtash. I’m happy to see you’re up and well.
GURTASH: Thanks.
SALANDRIA: What happened to him?
SHAYARI: Pip got himself sliced up by a drakonid. Also, hey Pip.
SALANDRIA: Ouch!
GURTASH: Hey.
SHAYARI: I know, right?
GURTASH: She said, as if she was the one getting cut up…
SALANDRIA: Is that how you got your scar?
Gurtash shifts uneasily.
’Cause it looks kinda fresh.
GURTASH: Uh… yeah.
SHAYARI: You know, that could have gotten even more awkward if the answer had been no.
RUEKIE: It’s really not so bad, Gurtash…
GURTASH: Yeah, I guess.
SALANDRIA: It actually looks kinda badass, Pip.
GURTASH: That’s not my name!
SHAYARI: <snickering>
SALANDRIA: Oh. Um…
RUEKIE: He doesn’t like it when people call him that.
SALANDRIA: So it’s kind of like his “Garry”?
SHAYARI: Other than the fact that no on really takes it seriously in his case, sure.
GURTASH: My name is Gurtash.
SHAYARI: He really does get wound up about it when people call him Pip.
GURTASH: You’re the only one that does.
SHAYARI: Okay. When I call him Pip.
SALANDRIA: Why do you call him that, then?
SHAYARI: Because he gets really wound up about it? I just said! He’s a real pip about it. Oh hey, there we go again.
GURTASH: Anyway… I’m Gurtash.
SALANDRIA: Hi. Salandria.
LIADRIN: Gurtash is one of the Warchief’s military trainees. And this is… I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve met your friend, Gurtash.
RUEKIE: My name’s Rue’kara. People call me Ruekie, though.
GURTASH: She’s another trainee like me.
LIADRIN: Ah, I see. I don’t think I’ve met any of Garrosh’s warrior proteges other than you, Gurtash.
GURTASH: Well, we’re not all warriors.
RUEKIE: I’m a shaman.
LIADRIN: Oh. I suppose I’d just assumed, since Garrosh is…well, rather emphatically a warrior himself.
GURTASH: A lot of us are, like– oh, hey, there they are over there — like Korrina and Kulkesh–
Gurtash waves to try to catch their attention across the festival grounds.
Nope. No go, they don’t see me. Anyhow, yeah, a lot of us are warriors, but there are a bunch like Ruekie who aren’t.
RUEKIE: Tuekie’s a rogue.
SHAYARI: Wait, who?
RUEKIE: Tuekie, my twin sister.
GURTASH: She’s a trainee, too.
RUEKIE: She just didn’t come with us to Pandaria, so she’s a little behind.
SHAYARI: Wait, your parents named her Tuekie?
RUEKIE: Well, Tue’kara.
SHAYARI: Right, but… after they named you Rue’kara?
RUEKIE: I think she was first by a couple minutes, actually.
SHAYARI: Okay, fine, concurrently, whatever. You’re missing the point.
RUEKIE: No, I get it. <shrugs> My parents are weird.
SALANDRIA: Right there with you.
LIADRIN: Salandria.
MOKVAR: It DOES seem pretty cruel to give twins names that rhyme.
RUEKIE: I know, I know…
SHAYARI: Sorry, Rue…
GURTASH: But yeah, there’s Tuekie, and Tov’osh. And Giska’s a monk, even.
RUEKIE: I think she’s– oh, yeah, there she is, helping the monk trainer set up.
SHAYARI: Her class trainer’s got her doing odd jobs setting up for a noodle festival?
GURTASH: Looks like it.
MOKVAR: I’m surprised Garrosh doesn’t do something like that with you kids.
GURTASH: <holding up sketch pad> Um, hello?
MOKVAR: Okay, point taken. But I mean, with ALL of you.
RUEKIE: Don’t give him ideas!
SALANDRIA: You mean he doesn’t? Huh, maybe I should look into being a warrior if the rock star thing doesn’t work out, what with the all the chores I was getting socked with as a pally-in-training…
LIADRIN: Don’t you get started about your apprenticeship duties again.
SALANDRIA: I’m just saying, I don’t really see what cleaning up after refugees had to do with perfecting my Crusader Strike!
LIADRIN: It was community service!
SALANDRIA: Suuuuuure…
SHAYARI: All I know is, Eddie’s got another thing coming if he starts trying to get me to do that kind of random crap for him.
SALANDRIA: Who’s Eddie?
SHAYARI: He’s my mage trainer. At least when he’s not preoccupied with making snarky comments about everything.
LIADRIN: Salandria, that’s the Dr. Faranell I’ve mentioned.
SALANDRIA: Oh, the dead guy? He’s that Eddie?
MOKVAR: Edwin.
SALANDRIA: Huh?
MOKVAR: He goes by Edwin. You probably don’t want to try calling him Eddie.
SHAYARI: Why? I always do.
LIADRIN: I’m sure “Dr. Faranell” will suffice.
SHAYARI: That’s so formal, though! I prefer Eddie.
SALANDRIA: Yeesh, you guys really like to call people things they don’t like, don’t you?
MOKVAR: You haven’t even met Garrosh yet…
GURTASH: Well, some of us do, yeah.
SHAYARI: Oh, it’ll grow on you, Pip.
MOKVAR: <to Liadrin> Are you sure you want to get her mixed up in all this?
LIADRIN: Completely sure? Hardly. But, better for her to have some contact with a few peers.
RUEKIE: There aren’t other blood elf kids in Silvermoon?
LIADRIN: There are, but… well, not all of them are necessarily the best influences.
MOKVAR: As opposed to the vast improvement you’re seeing here?
SHAYARI: Hey, we’re pretty damn cool, Beardy.
RUEKIE: Yeah!
GURTASH: Wait for it…
SHAYARI: At least the me part of the we.
RUEKIE: Hey!
GURTASH: Boom.
RUEKIE: Oh… Oh, hey, is that a guitar?
SALANDRIA: Yup!
RUEKIE: Do you play?
SHAYARI: No, she just carries it around to trick people.
RUEKIE: Are you good?
SALANDRIA: I’m getting there! That’s what I want to do. Someday I’m gonna open for the Elite Tauren Chieftains.
LIADRIN: Just so long as you keep your Tauren Chieftains ambitions limited to–
SALANDRIA: And marry Sig Nicious!
LIADRIN: Salandria…
SHAYARI: Okay, well, he is kinda cute.
RUEKIE: Which one is he?
MOKVAR: The kinda-cute one, I guess?
SALANDRIA: My future husband, that’s who!
LIADRIN: Salandria, even setting aside how unlikely it is that you would even meet him, you and I both know he’s much too old for you.
SALANDRIA: He is not!
LIADRIN: He’s in his 230s!
SALANDRIA: So? Didn’t you tell me once that you dated that ranger guy when you were younger?
LIADRIN: What about it?
SALANDRIA: So he was a lot older than you! How come that was okay?
LIADRIN: All right, granted, I was half his age. You, on the other hand, are the square root of his age.
SALANDRIA: Oh come on!
Garrosh enters, carrying a large pot and wearing a chef’s hat and apron. Malkorok, carrying another large pot (and looking none to happy about it) enters with him.
MOKVAR: Um…
SHAYARI: <shaking her head while facepalming> Oh, Light, just take me now…
LIADRIN: Um… hello, Warchief.
MOKVAR: I mean… do we not give you enough crap already?
GURTASH: Uhh…
GARROSH: Why the fuck are you people staring at me like I just sprouted a second head?
SHAYARI: <muttering> Maybe that one would have enough sense not to leave the house looking like that…
LIADRIN: It’s only that that’s a very… colorful outfit, sir.
MOKVAR: That’s one way to put it.
GARROSH: Hey, look, if I’m gonna cook, I might as well look the part, all right?
MOKVAR: And I mean… are those… are those murloc oven mitts?
GARROSH: THEY WERE A HOUSEWARMING GIFT FROM EITRIGG WHEN I MOVED TO ORGRIMMAR, OKAY?
SHAYARI: Oh Light, it just keeps getting worse…
LIADRIN: <squinting> And… am I not seeing your apron correctly, or is that lettering…?
GARROSH: Oh. Yeah. It was originally one of those aprons that say “Kiss the Chef.”
SHAYARI: <meekly> And it just keeps coming…
LIADRIN: And now…?
GARROSH: Well now I’ve gotten it doctored up around the “Chef” part. With a “War” in front and an I squeezed into the middle.
LIADRIN: I see…
MOKVAR: Wait, you actually sat down and sewed that onto the apron?
SHAYARI: Oh spirits, can’t we just let it go away…?
GARROSH: No, you jackass, I didn’t sit down and sew the damn apron. Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? I hired some tailors to fix it up for me.
SHAYARI: Wait, wait, hang on. This is important. You went to tailors about this?
GARROSH: Yeah, why?
SHAYARI: As in, tailors who run clothing stores kind of tailors?
GARROSH: Yeah, WHY?
SHAYARI: Okay, listen to me very carefully. Where exactly did you go for this?
GARROSH: Why the fuck does it even matter?
SHAYARI: Because I need to know who’s been made aware of this mana bomb of shame.
GARROSH: Huh. Let me think. I don’t even remember the name of the place…
SHAYARI: <pressing eyes closed and crossing fingers> Please say the goblin slums, please say the goblin slums, please say…
GARROSH: It was some place in Silvermoon, though.
SHAYARI: Oh Light…
LIADRIN: Oh dear. Shay, I hate to say this, but I think I might have had an unwitting hand in this…
SHAYARI: What did you do?!
GARROSH: Why the hell are you acting like me getting an apron is the damn apocalypse or something?
SHAYARI: You stay out of this!
GARROSH: Stay out of– I AM “THIS”!
LIADRIN: I was speaking with Garrosh a while back, and he’d asked me to recommend a tailor, so I pointed him toward a place in the Bazaar.
SHAYARI: Oh spirits save me…
LIADRIN: I didn’t know what he was looking for a tailor for specifically.
SHAYARI: Do you realize what you’ve done?! You didn’t stop and think why he might want a tailor?
LIADRIN: Well, to be fair, look at him. The possibilities are endless.
SHAYARI: Oh Light… which place?
GARROSH: Some “trusted” place, I think.
LIADRIN: Keelan’s Trustworthy Tailoring.
SHAYARI: Oh no… No, no, no, no…
GARROSH: They turned it around really quick, gotta say.
LIADRIN: They always do.
GARROSH: Dude did look at me kind of funny when he got the order, though.
SHAYARI: Well, there’s one store I can never show my face in again…
SALANDRIA: Uh, does he always walk around looking like this?
SHAYARI: Oh, yeah, sure, every day Azeroth rotates backwards and the skies turn orange.
SALANDRIA: I’m going to take that as a no.
MOKVAR: Good call.
GARROSH: Look, I don’t care what you people–
Garrosh looks at Mokvar.
Hey, hang on a minute.
He looks Mokvar over again.
So wait, did you go and change up on us AGAIN?
MOKVAR: What do you mean?
GARROSH: I mean, you were a shaman back before you ran off on your damn crazy train mission looking for your crystal doohicky, right?
MOKVAR: Right.
GARROSH: And then you came back and you’d become a warlock again.
RUEKIE: <aside> Ohh, is that what happened with him? Handy recap!
GURTASH: <aside> Ssshhh, I think it’s about to take one of those turns.
MOKVAR: Yeah…?
RUEKIE: <aside> How can you tell?
GURTASH: <aside> I’ve been tagging along for these conversations for a long time now…
GARROSH: Well, look at you. Are you back to being a shaman again now?
MOKVAR: <sighs> No, no…
GARROSH: Because if so, dude, you’ve got some SERIOUS problems with career indecision, let me tell you.
MOKVAR: No, I’m not a shaman again. I’m still a warlock.
GARROSH: So what’s up with the non-warlock-being getup?
MOKVAR: I’m just wearing my other suit! Not everyone has to wear the same thing every day.
SHAYARI: Oh thank Light I’m not the only one who realizes that. There might be hope for you yet, Beardy.
Liadrin leans to look into the pot Garrosh is carrying.
LIADRIN: I take it, sir, that you’ve decided to offer your own… contribution to the festival?
SALANDRIA: You know, that smells pretty good, whatever it is.
MOKVAR: It actually does…
GARROSH: Yeah, I figured what the hell, I might as well get in on it a little.
LIADRIN: Most commendable, sir. What is it, exactly?
GARROSH: I doctored up one of Greatmother’s old recipes and whipped up some spicy talbuk noodles.
LIADRIN: I must admit, sir, I didn’t realize that you cooked.
GARROSH: Garadar chili cook off champion, I’ll have you know.
MOKVAR: Weren’t you actually first runner up?
GARROSH: Not after Grok’nar had that unfortunate incident with the severe head trauma from several large rocks. Which I’m sure they’ll rule was natural causes if they ever find his body.
SHAYARI: I have to admit, he’s actually not a bad cook.
LIADRIN: I see you’re a man of many talents, sir.
GARROSH: You know, it’s funny, you’re not the first blood elf woman to tell me that.
SHAYARI: <cringing> You realize you’re just making my future therapy bills worse…
GARROSH: …this week.
SHAYARI: Welp, there’s two more months right there.
GARROSH: I guess I just need ol’ Lunchbox to get me set up at a station or something.
GURTASH: It looks like he’s getting some more setup done with Giska over there.
RUEKIE: I’ll try to watch for them, sir.
LIADRIN: In the meantime, Garrosh, allow me to introduce my daughter, Salandria. I’m sure, conversely, the Warchief needs no introduction.
GARROSH: Oh, yeah, I remember you mentioning her.
SALANDRIA: Hi, sir. Nice tats.
GARROSH: Huh. Thanks. Traditional Warsong markings.
SALANDRIA: They’re cool. <leaning and looking behind Garrosh> Soooooo, how far down do they go…?
LIADRIN: Salandria, don’t start!
SALANDRIA: I’m just asking!
LIADRIN: You know perfectly well.
SHAYARI: <squeezing eyes closed> Ohhh, spirits, please don’t let this become a thing.
GARROSH: Well, while we’re waiting on Pudge, some of you people might as well dig in for some of the talbuk-noodly goodness.
SALANDRIA: Bah, I still need to get a bowl.
MOKVAR: Here, I’ve got mine.
Mokvar passes a bowl over to Garrosh, who spoons out some noodles.
GARROSH: Yeah, here, try not to get any in your beard for once.
Garrosh holds the bowl out to Mokvar. Before Mokvar can take it, Deliana unstealths and grabs it from Garrosh’s hand.
DELIANA: Thanks! Smells good!
Deliana stealths again and vanishes.
GARROSH: Um.
Garrosh blinks, then turns back to Malkorok.
Seriously, dude, a little fucking SECURITY up in this bitch? Isn’t that kind of your whole fucking JOB?
MALKOROK: Ugh, apologies, Warchief. Although this does illustrate some issues we’ve been… ugh, regardless… <waving to nearby guards, then approaching them> Kor’kron!
GARROSH: Wait, actually…
Garrosh turns back to Mokvar.
How is it, exactly, that your little human friend is SNEAKING INTO ORGRIMMAR?
MOKVAR: Garrosh, you’ve met her. Do you really think I could make her stay away even if I wanted?
GARROSH: Yeah, well, if Malk manages to track her down, you better not hold your breath waiting for her to turn up again. Anyway, in the meantime, you can wait for your helping until she brings back your damn bowl. So… who else is up?
RUEKIE: I’d like to try some, sir!
GARROSH: Yeah, okay. Here.
Garrosh spoons a large portion of noodles into Ruekie’s bowl.
RUEKIE: Oh, wow, sir. You sure know how to give a girl a mouthful!
Everyone stares at Ruekie for a moment.
Oh gosh! I didn’t– I mean– I– I’m gonna stop talking now.
MOKVAR: At least you’ve got noodles.
Deliana unstealths and drops an empty bowl into Mokvar’s hands.
DELIANA: Here you go! Good stuff!
Deliana stealths again and vanishes.
GARROSH: <bellowing over at Malkorok> UH, MALK, ANYTIME YOU AND YOUR PEOPLE WANNA GET YOUR HEADS OUT OF YOUR ASSES WOULD BE TERRIFIC!
SALANDRIA: Is this what it’s usually like with you guys?
SHAYARI: You have no idea.
{As it turns out, the Pandaren Noodle Festival brought far more absurdity than I could hope to pack into one post, so our Orgrimmar block party will continue soon, with appearances from even more of our supporting cast. TO BE CONTINUED soon — stay tuned…}
Warchiefing for dummies
So it occurs to me that not everybody is a natural leader like I am, but maybe you’re in a position where you’re saddled with some kind of authority. Maybe you didn’t even ask for the job, but it got handed to you anyway. You’re probably in over your head, actually, what with you not being ME or anything, but you’ve got the job regardless and now you’ve got to make the best of it. And so I know what you’re thinking: “Dammit, Garrosh, how can I be awesome like you at this?”
Well, I’ve got good news and bad news for you, skipper. The bad news is, sorry, you can’t be awesome like me. Let’s be real here, right? But the good news is that you CAN at least learn to suck a little less. And to help you out with that, here comes your favorite Warchief to lay down the ins and outs of kickass, badass, all-around-ass pro leadership.
Or: WARCHIEFING FOR DUMMIES.
Now before everybody starts shitting themselves based on the title, don’t panic, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not getting ready to hand off leadership to somebody else, and even if I did I would probably just be trolling or some shit. No, don’t worry, you get to look forward to having ol’ Garrosh in charge for a good long time still.
What this IS is a set of handy-dandy guidelines for making the most of your own leadership position. Maybe you’re a military commander. Like me. Or maybe you’re a guild leader on Earth Online. Like me. Or maybe you run your own… I don’t know, you run your own diner, like a barbeque place specializing in the awesomeness of pork, maybe call it Bacon R Us or something. Which, holy shit, if that place DOESN’T already exist, somebody needs to get on the stick and open it like pronto, because I’ll be over for dinner like fucking TONIGHT. Table for two, 7:15. Make sure you’ve got extra sauce stocked.
Point is, though, if you don’t have the benefit of being ME, then you could probably benefit from getting a little more me-ness in your operation. So, here’s your very own personal desperately needed guide to getting some Garrosh in you. (Ladies.)
So, let’s get down to some Warchiefing.
THE BASICS
So, this first point should be painfully obvious to anyone who isn’t stupid, but if there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s that assuming someone isn’t stupid is almost always a losing proposition. So I’ll go ahead and point out the obvious to you fuckers: being an authority figure means having authority OVER someone. And the more authority you have, the more of those someones you’ve got, until you make your way all the way up to my level, where you’re so much of a boss that people look at you and try to fathom just how much of a boss you are and their heads just go blank and all they can come up with is “??” Only you’re NOT really going to make your way up to that level, because that level is my level, and nobody else is going to reach that level while I’m around, so don’t go getting any ideas.
SO.
If you’re the person in charge, that means you have minions. Hopefully, your minions aren’t as FUCKING INCOMPETENT as most of MY minions, but, you know, good luck there. Point is, though, one way or another, those minions are what you’ve got to work with. Which leads us to our first few Warchiefing guidelines:
USE YOUR DAMN MINIONS
This should be pretty obvious — you might be noticing a theme developing already — but let’s be honest here. If obvious shit was really obvious to everyone, they wouldn’t need me to point it out. Obvious is only obvious to people with enough brains to see the… obviosity. YES THAT’S A FUCKING WORD. Obviously.
The point is, your minions are there to work for you. So put them to work. Delegate. Figure out what your minions don’t completely suck at, and get those motherfuckers busy doing that. If at all possible, also try to watch out for what they DO completely suck at, and then, don’t let them do that. This last item might be hard to manage, depending on how stupid the minions in question are. One way or another, though, get them working. If the shit they’re able to do lines up with shit you’d just as soon avoid yourself, by the way? WIN-WIN.
Case in point: when I first became Warchief, one of the biggest surprises was just how much time I ended up being stuck with paperwork. Like you would not BELIEVE how many forms need to get filled out in an average day of running an ambiguously structured quasi-totalitarian regime the dictatorial nature of which only became questionable to anyone once it was being run by the guy WITHOUT the fucking messiah complex. I think I might have digressed a little there. But anyway. I had all this paperwork piling, form after form to fill out, and hoo boy was that eating up my day and leaving me precious little time to… you know… play computer games and write EPIC VERSE. And just… be awesome and stuff. But LO AND BEHOLD, right there in Grommash Hold with me was old man Eitrigg, with his nice tidy penmanship and his cushy retirement plan that he didn’t want to cash in on even though he was like a zillion years old, and his charming habit of bitching and moaning to me about everything and anything if he didn’t have something to keep him otherwise occupied. So what did I do? That’s right, I KEPT HIS ASS FUCKING OCCUPIED.
Actually, scratch that. That made it sound vaguely dirty, and OH SHIT I bet Rule 34 has already engaged. Shit. Okay, well, moving on.
The point is, I shuffled that paperwork right on over to the old dude, and let him worry about “in triplicate” being a depressingly recurrent phrase in his life, while I freed myself up to get back to things more in line with my Warchieferous stature. DELEGATION, bitches.
So, as much as possible, you need to have a clear, solid sense of what your people have going for them, so you can use them effectively. Here, take a few examples of what I’m talking about:
So, see, that gives you a basic sense of what you need to know about what your people bring to the table. Actually, come to think of it, that could be a pretty cool resource: like have a table where you could have all that information about your minions gathered in one place, and then you use it to assign them to whatever missions need to be covered, and then you can dispatch them right from there.
Hmm.
Actually, fuck that. I bet that setup would be cool for like a week or two, then become fucking BORING. Fuck that. I don’t want to be stuck at a damn desk all the time. I want to get out there and do some stuff myself. OKAY THEN, on second thought:
HANDS-ON LEADERSHIP
Let’s be honest here. Contrary to what the touchy-feely motherfuckers of the world would have you believe, it’s not a matter of stepping back and letting your people do their job and trusting them not to fuck it up. They’re GOING to fuck it up, okay? I’m just telling you the facts here. The fucking math doesn’t lie. Odds are, they’re going to fuck something up. You could give them a job to do that’s got, like, a fucking 99% chance of working, and just you watch them dig down deep and crowbar their stupid asses into that 1%. And that’s when you sometimes have to be ready to get out there in the field and show those dumbasses how shit gets done. So whether it’s blood elves who can’t figure out why they’re getting their baby teeth kicked in by a bunch of statues, or blood elves who think it’s a hot idea to send one random scrub into an enemy lair, or blood elves… I don’t know. Some third thing. Probably involving blood elves. POINT IS, don’t be afraid to roll up your sleeves and take matters into your own hands.
For one thing, it’s good for morale when the troops see you out there in the trenches with them. Plus, that way, when they DO fuck up, and then you pimp in and show them how fucking easy it is for a non-jackass to do things, well, you’ve already given them enough rope to hang themselves, so now you get to come down like a mountain of hellfire on them, and if they happen to leave some rope literally lying around the joint, maybe even ACTUALLY hang them. Because THAT’S how you make sure that the NEXT batch of minions sees what happens when fuckuppery ensues, and maybe get more motivated to have their asses in gear than the last (late) bunch of minions.
See, at the end of the day, it’s all about the tough love.
So go on, get out there, kick some ass, take some names, then use the names to yell at the motherfuckers while you kick their asses some more. You’ll feel better, believe me.
THE BIG PICTURE
The biggest reason you want to delegate, though, isn’t because you’re lazy, or because you want to amuse yourself watching the B-listers try to stay on top of an A-list job and almost certainly shit all over themselves as a result, or because you prefer spending your time eating an assortment of tasty lemon squares off of an assortment of tasty groupies. I mean, you probably do, because really, but that’s not the main reason. The most important reason to delegate is because the jobs you’re going to delegate, no matter how important they might be, they’re just the DETAILS. But YOU are the one who’s mapped out how those details are going to add up to something. You’re the one thinking five steps ahead. You’re the man with the plan. OR WOMAN, OR WOMAN, DON’T START WRITING FUCKING LETTERS, GEEZ.
Point is, you’re the one who’s got it all figured out, because seriously, does THAT sound like a job you want to leave to the Dontrags and Utvochs of the world? No, of course not. They don’t know what the fuck’s going on. When you send your minions into a situation, they don’t have the sense to realize all the things that could go wrong. But YOU do — you know perfectly well all the ways the operation could — probably WILL — end up blowing up in everyone’s face. So you need to stay freed up to continue figuring out all the reasons why the mission is doomed to failure and is probably a bad idea to begin with, and then send their asses out to give it the ol’ college try anyway. Probably the ol’ COMMUNITY college try, given the likely state of your minions, but still.
That’s all I’ve got for now. I might add to it another time if more unfathomable genius comes to me.
More soon.
Leave the dinomancy to the dinomancers
So, I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this before, but I’m really starting to think, oh, I don’t know, I might possibly need some BETTER FUCKING MINIONS. Have I already talked about this?
WELL HERE’S THE LATEST FUCKING CHAPTER.
I just got a report from General Nazgrim in Pandaria. Delivered straight from Pandaria by the general’s personal courier, Quirox the Illiterate. Yes, you read that right. Yes, that’s his nickname. No, I’m not joking. And yes, it’s accurate. And as ridiculous as that sounds, it actually has some merit to it. Think about it — an illiterate courier means you can send highly classified, top secret documents without there being ANY chance of prying eyes peeking in transit. Also, this might or might not tell us anything, but later on in the day, guess who I noticed ol’ Quirox hanging out with? Here’s a hint: the letters D and U are involved. Birds of a braindead feather, I tell you.
Anyway, Nazgrim’s report. And if you’ve been reading the blog for any length of time, you probably already have a sense of what tends to happen when I delegate to people and then have them report back to me later. For those of you who are new to the party, what tends to happen is NOTHING WHATSOEVER THAT IS GOOD FOR MY FUCKING BLOOD PRESSURE. Case in point: A little while back, I gave Nazgrim orders to send some people up to this Isle of Giants place off the coast of Pandaria and see what the dinosaur situation was. Because if the fucking Zandalari could sweet-talk some of the dinosaurs into being mounts and minions for them, we sure as well should try to get in on the ground floor there, because DINOSAURS, HOT DAMN.
Now, Nazgrim’s original assignment was to send a scouting detail to size things up. Which he did, with a small team headed by Marksman Shokia and Shademaster Kiryn. They zipped on up to the Isle of Giants, surveyed the area, gathered info on the denizens. No sign of the Zandas, other than an abandoned ship off the coast. Still loads of dinosaurs all over the place, ready for the taking. So far, so good. Awesome.
Then, for some reason I DON’T KNOW WHY, Nazgrim decided to get creative and go off the script.
This is the part where the long-time readers among you probably starting getting a Bad Feeling About This.
Because…yeah.
So, you might remember a few mailbags ago, Grottee Metalbeard sent along a peace offering to make up for his HOLY FUCKING SHIT “How to Out-Tirion Tirion” letter, in the form of a Zandalari Tome of Dinomancy that he’d gotten hold of. (I’ll forgive you if you’d missed that detail, since by that point a lot of you were probably like “Oh shit, another Grottee letter, it’s skim time, somebody tell me when it’s safe to come out.”) (Then the universe unleashed Sarlin on us all. Well played, universe. You win again.) My plan was to bring it with me when I head back to Pandaria, along with a team of Kor’kron beastmasters, and have them see if they could make use of it to tame us some new badass military monsters.
Somehow or other, though, Nazgrim got his hands on one of those tomes himself, and decided it was a good idea to take matters into his own hands and have some of his people try to use it themselves, even though the people HE had on hand weren’t Kor’kron beastmasters. They were, in fact, neither Kor’kron NOR beastmasters. Nor competent. Nor in possession, apparently, of an ounce of fucking SENSE, but hey, since when is THAT news when it comes to somebody I have on my payroll not named fucking ME?
So Nazgrim toddled on up to the Isle of Giants with… I don’t know, WHOEVER the fuck he thought would be good to try this with. Some non-Kor’kron non-beastmaster dude. I don’t even think he was a hunter, because, yeah, THAT’S another good idea when you’re trying to tame something. I don’t even know WHAT he was. Just some guy, apparently. Probably named Steve or some shit. ANYWAY. They flew over there, and Nazgrim had one of his people, Generic Red Shirt Moron Steve, try his luck with the Tome of Dinomancy. Oh but also, to add to the shit-tacular brilliance of this plan, they didn’t bother trying things out on any of the smaller, weaker dinosaurs, just to get a feel for the process, because that would just make too much damn SENSE, right? Oh no, old Steve went straight for the big noise — he went right on up to this giant freaking devilsaur that the locals called Oondasta. And, you know, when a dinosaur gets a fucking NAME, you know it’s no joke, right? As if to say, oh, those plain ol’ regular dinosaurs? Pfft, who cares about those? They’re just FUCKING DINOSAURS. But THIS one here? HOO BOY, THIS is the one you have to pay attention to.
So ol’ fucking worthless shithead Steve — who I literally know nothing about other than his existence (and by the way, stay tuned even on THAT front), but who I’m still going to make sweeping dismissive comments about because FUCK THAT IDIOT — he rolled up on Oondasta like he owned the place, and started trying whatever dino-mojo the Tome of Dinomancy had in it. And Oondasta picked up on the dinomancy vibe and came stomping on over, and walked right up to fuckhead Steve, and you know what happened next? THE FUCKING DEVILSAUR LEANED RIGHT DOWN AND SWALLOWED STEVE IN ONE BITE, COMPLETE WITH THE FUCKING TOME, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.
By the way, let me tell you, Nazgrim’s attempt to give an account of that in his report, without making it sound like the total fucking disaster that it was? I don’t know if it was hilarious or fucking sad. It’s a damn good thing he’s a decent field officer, though, because his non-combat decisionmaking? Eesh.
Anyway, though, I would say we’re back to the drawing board, except we really aren’t any worse off than we were before Nazgrim had his little brainstorm. We still have a useful scouting report on the Isle of Giants, and we still have MY Tome of Dinomancy, because unlike some OTHER people I could mention (I’m looking right at YOU, Steve — or I WOULD, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re probably getting ready to get shat out by Oondasta even as we speak), I have enough sense not to go running off unprepared to do some stupid shit. I MAKE SURE I’M PREPARED FOR THE STUPID SHIT I DO, GODDAMMIT.
We’ll just have to pick this up once I get back down there, tome and beastmasters in tow. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that nobody manages to shit the bed on this operation any more than they already have.
More soon.
A day in the life
So, the last few mailbags have gotten me thinking. I’ve been getting a bunch of questions about pretty regular day-to-day things in my life — nuts and bolts about what I do and why. Just another part of being a celebrity, I guess, and a pretty damn awesome one at that. Point is, with all the crazy crap that goes on around here, I think I might have gotten so busy keeping everyone updated on the BIG NEWSY stuff that I haven’t bothered talking about anything else. Which, you know, was kind of the POINT of writing the damn blog in the first place. You know. THOUGHTS AND MUSINGS AND SHIT.
Well, maybe not shit. Not literally. Because gross.
Point is, though, I’m going to try to be a little better about posting on the NON-BIG-GIANT-WORLD-ALTERING stuff that’s going on or that I have in mind or whatever. So, for those of you interested in more of an inside look at what it’s like to be me (short version: way better than it is to be you), here, have a peek into a sample of a day in the life of everyone’s favorite Warchief.
(That would be ME, you UNGRATEFUL SMARTASSES out there.)
8:09 AM – Woke up. Rolled out of bed. Pulled razor across my head. (I try to be diligent about shaving. Wouldn’t be a big deal if I only had some stubble on my FACE — the tattoos would make it hard to see anyway — but if it starts getting visible on top, you start seeing what a bad draw I got as far as middle-aged hairlines go. I’ll tell you, my mother’s side of the family must have had some fucking awful hair, because I sure as hell didn’t get mine from Grom.)
8:16 AM – Morning jog around Grommash Hold. Worked up good sweat but noticed several vendors conspicuously absent. Unable to amuse self by slapping them on the way by. Possibly vendors getting wise. Two years later. Never said they were sharpest tools. Disappointing nonetheless. Post-slap reactions always good for chuckle. Especially troll.
8:43 AM – Bacon. Also: more bacon.
8:51 AM – Kafa. Really not bad at all. Maybe should have listened to Ruekie about Starbulls earlier. Remember to check with her about other blends later. Potential application of haste buff stacking with Recklessness.
9:00 AM – Budget review meeting with Eitrigg. Gramps raised some concerns about an increase in the “Warchief discretionary spending” category. Don’t even get me started.
10:00 AM – Staff meeting with Malkorok, Overlord Runthak, and Overseer Elaglo. Updates on a number of projects, plus a few security oddities from Malk. Mokvar working with Xorenth today, so Taktani recording notes. Malkorok less than pleased. Can’t really blame him. Some sensitive topics, so not publishing transcript.
11:32 AM – On way out after meeting, had to suffer through, and minimize, small talk with Dontrag. Or Utvoch. Not sure. Apparently waiting for Tak after meeting. Luckily escaped when she came out.
11:36 AM – Note to self: Check on which one of D&U is which.
11:37 AM – Followup note to self: Don’t really give shit which is which. Disregard previous.
11:45 AM – Shayari gets back from morning of mage training with Faranell in Undercity. As per recommendation, Doc showed her Ice Block today. Apparently never bothered picking it up because she’s a fire mage. Dalaran, Shmalaran. Don’t know what those fuckers were teaching her.
Shay also delivered (another) invoice from Faranell for his jaw replacement. Can’t possibly really be that expensive. Also not crazy about Materials; “headhunting” and acquisition line item. Bad feeling about this.
12:20 PM – Lunch at Broken Tusk. Pretty good special, “Agamaggan’s pulled pork.” Needs bacon, though. Then again, what doesn’t?
12:36 PM – While eating, interrupted by Dontrag. Or Utvoch. Not sure. Not the one from earlier. Other one. Yammered on about something. Difficult to follow as I wasn’t listening. Can only assume that sounds of me eating sounded to him like “Tell me about your life.” Really crossed the line, though, when he started going on and on about wanting to set up a double date for him and the other one.* Thought of those two on dates led to prospect of them breeding. Lost appetite at that point and left. See, proves my point about bacon. Would have still been worth it in that case.
* Not with me. Double date for them and two someones (sometwos?) else. Not me. Even bacon couldn’t have salvaged that shit if so.
1:30 PM – Combat drills with trainees. Focus today on defensive maneuvers, parrying, mitigation skills. Overall decent performance. Korrina still a little reckless. Rook possibly a little too quick to hit “oh shit” buttons, but growing more adept at self-heals. Bodes well for group use, maybe occasional off-healing. Giska doing well with unarmed combat, blocking especially, skill less successful while using a weapon. Possibly check with Lunchbox on this. Tuekie, Zorekk coming along well, performance gap remains but growing less conspicuous. Mirembe and Tov’osh still on training maneuvers in Northrend.
3:00 PM – Extra melee practice with Gurtash. Trying to ease him back in but he’s still a little slow to pick things back up. Very hesitant. Hit accuracy seems uncompromised by injury, so that’s good. Kept to short session today. Don’t want to discourage him but combat skills need to take major step forward if he’s to perform honorably. And survive. More side sessions to follow.
4:00 PM – Hop onto Earth Online. Not going to bother logging guild chat — only getting on for a few minutes to check auctions and knock out a few dailies, then I’ll be logging off.
6:11 PM – Finally logged off of Earth Online. Man. Game really goes have a way of sucking you in and burning the day. Didn’t even really do anything especially fun. Didn’t even really do much of ANYTHING. Two hours gone anyway. How the hell does Genesis do it? Check on this — could have potential mind control / military applications. Make mental note for next meeting with Blackfuse and/or Draz’Zilb. And of course, Shay had to pop in and snarky comments about nerdy gaming. Again.
6:20 PM – Tried to take Shay to this new barbecue place over in the Drag for dinner. When we arrived, found Dontrag and Utvoch there.
Positive: Both there, so no need to worry about who’s who.
Negative: Both there.
Double negative: Don’t CARE who’s who, which cancels out positive above. (Math nerds: Yes, in this case double negative cancels the positive and not the negatives. Don’t get panties in a bunch. Also: HEAD HURTS.)
Triple negative: They were chatty.
6:22 PM – Got the fuck out of there and headed home. I’ll send for takeout, dammit. Fuck that noise. (Literal noise.)
6:27 PM – Passed by Kodohide Leatherworkers on way home. Had to drag Shay away to avoid shopping spree. She stuck head in doorway, entire staff greeted her by name. Fuck me.
7:21 PM – Shay tries to conjure lemon squares for dessert. Not something that usually promises much success but she decides she wants to try it anyway. Goes about as well as you might expect.
7:34 PM – Leave note for repair crew to come by tomorrow to take care of damage to kitchen. Not looking forward to bill. Also make mental note to talk to Faranell about the lemon square thing or failure thereof. What the hell am I paying for. Remember this next time he tries griping about the bill for his damn jaw.
Monday mailbag
Okay, time to dip into the mail. Quick one this time around, but I’m a busy orc, so that works out. Let’s get right to it…
So, I kinda put some thought into my work. The Facemelters just weren’t sellin’ like I thought they would, so I decided to put my design talents to work by approachin’ ol’ Helix Blackfuse and lookin’ for work. Course, the big boss gets all the fame and glory of his design team, but no big, ya know? He still pays pretty good compared to what I was makin’ with my startup company.
I come bearin’ some good news for your most recent armaments order. So, get this. Ol’ Blackfuse comes to us in the design team, wantin’ to make a demolisher. Only he wanted to mix it with somethin’ like those dwarf steam tanks they got on the other side. I thought, what would make this bigger, better, and more BADASS than just a demolisher with the stayin’ power of a tank? We worked at it all night, but I think you’ll absolutely LOVE the end results. We like to call it the Iron Juggernaut.
So, we took the basic design of a Horde demolisher, then we completely reworked the chassis so the end result, once the body team finishes construction, looks like a Kor’kron scorpid! Pretty cool, huh? But that ain’t all we got in mind! Instead of claws, we slapped a launchable sawblade and drill to its front end (which is also where the exhaust port is to vent all those volatile flames from the furnace, and hoo baby, this thing looks like it’ll be spewin’ fire like a dwarf that had one too many at Brewfest when it rolls off the assembly line). Instead of some sort of impalin’ device for the tail (seriously, that drill-claw ain’t just for looks), we replaced it with a laser beam. Yeah, you read that right. Lasers. Perfect for incineratin’ your enemies AND cookin’ those five copper instant noodle packs! We also got a device in place that launches boilin’ hot tar in all directions, ’cause you can never have too much in the way of stoppin’ power for anyone comin’ to beat this thing up. Toppin’ it all off, this bad boy also launches crawlin’ land mines that burrow into the ground (that was my input, because you can never EVER have enough explosives involved). The design for those crab mines were from a guy over in R&D named Pauli Rocketspark, and man, does that guy love his explosive devices. More than me, and that’s sayin’ somethin’, ya know?
I attached a copy of the blueprints for your final okay on the finished product. Can’t wait until we start producin’ these babies!
–Glessee “Glitch” Sparkbolt
Blackfuse Company, Weapons Designer
Oh, hey, Glessee, it’s been a while. Sorry the Facemelters didn’t really work out, except I’m not really that sorry, what with those things, like, at least six times more dangerous for the USERS than they were for the TARGETS. I have this on good authority from several field commanders who never had any experience with the things themselves but BECAME field commanders when they replaced their recently deceased predecessors who DID.
(Speaking of which, seeing as the Facemelters turned out to be a big ol’ kablooey-disaster, have you considered maybe trying to unload your leftover stock on the Alliance? You could maybe recoup some of your money, and we could probably end up with at least a few dead Allies and the resulting yuks.)
So… you’re on Blackfuse’s payroll, huh? Which kind of means, by extension, you’re on MY payroll. Could be handy to have some inside info on what he has going on. Dude DOES tend to be pretty cryptic about what he’s working on until he’s gotten things at the very late stages. A few peeks at things while they’re still early in production. You know, before I get hit with the R&D bill after the fact.
Speaking of which, this latest project sounds freaking AWESOME. A demolisher loaded up with wall-to-wall weaponry all packed into the shape of a giant scorpid? FUCK yeah. I mean… wait… it IS a GIANT scorpid, right? I’m not going to open the box and find out it’s some kind of mini demolisher scaled down to the size of an actual scorpid, am I? Although it might be kind of funny if it was all tiny and shit but could still roll in and wreck face. That might be good for some LOLs.
Assuming we’re talking about a demolisher-sized scorpid and not a scorpid-sized demolisher (tell me THAT’S not a meme-starting Ask.fm question just waiting to happen), gotta say, I’m loving this GIANT ROBOT idea. We should totally run with this whole design philosophy, if you ask me. Like what if we built a bunch of these souped up demolishers, and made them so they could COMBINE into a giant fel-reaver-type robot? Like one demolisher unit could make the body, and two more could be the arms, and so on, until BAM! all cower before the might of Vol’kron! Or whatever we call it. I’m just spitballing here.
OR– OR– hey! How about THIS — what if we made some demolishers that could turn INTO reavers? So you’ve got the armored siege engine, AND you’ve got the giant robot! Or you could even keep the scorpid idea, and have the SCORPID turn into the reaver, depending on what you need it to fight. Give it some badass name, Scorponok or something. Or for THAT matter, who says we have to limit ourselves to scorpid demolisher forms? Like for instance, I’ve got Nazgrim down in Pandaria sending his scouts to check out the Isle of Giants — can you imagine if we could whip up some motherfucking ROBOT DINOSAURS? DO YOU REALIZE HOW BADASS THAT WOULD BE? They could even still transform from their dino-demolisher forms into reaver-robot forms. Just picture that — a robo-devilsaur that kicks your ass, then turns into a giant reaver to kick it some more. Granted, the robot probably wouldn’t be too bright, but me Garrosh no care.
Hang on. How much do you figure all this might end up costing? Me Garrosh might motherfucking care about THAT.
Um.
Okay, you know what? I’m going to stick my neck way, way out and guess that this came from a goblin. First hint? The school this kid’s going to apparently saw fit to start teaching economics and marketing before, you know, HOW TO FUCKING SPELL.
Also, what the hell kind of a deal is that? I pay this kid do she draws me a PICTURE of bacon? How the hell is THAT supposed to be satisfying? I can just go get some REAL bacon! HOW IS THAT NOT A BETTER DEAL? I’m not going to get anything out of somebody DRAWING something I can just do for real. That would be like… I don’t know…
Heh. Hahahahahaha. That IS pretty funny. They really do get those looks on their faces, too. Right before they lose consciousness. Then they’re quiet. Sweet, sweet quiet. Good times.
Um. Okay, okay, fine, maybe a picture can be fun sometimes. But I’m not going to freaking PAY for them!
OH STOP THE EDITORIALIZING, KID. Sheesh.
ANYWAY, the answer is no, kid. I mean, goblin-kid. Not Gurtash-kid. I’m not interested in hiring you to draw for me. Or my friends. Or whatever.
Gotta admit, though. That bacon DOES look good.
Okay, that’s going to do it for this time around, but keep those letters coming. More awesomeness soon.
[The Warchief’s next mailbag will be Monday, March 7. And, speaking of which, I realize that the blog’s content has been rather mailbag-heavy of late, when there’s even been new content at all, but rest assured I’ve been making use of the seeming down time — the results of which you’ll be seeing start to roll out this week! So thanks to everyone for hanging in there. You patience will be rewarded! In the meantime, do send a few questions, comments, or other missives to Garrosh via or email or, as always, using the handy-dandy for below:]
Monday mailbag
Okay, kids, time once again for everyone to gather round while I see what kinds of forays into ridiculousness await in this round of mail. Here we go…
I’m just curious, is there a particular reason you tend to go shirtless? Not that I’m complaining. That is, obviously it’s your choice how you want to armor yourself, sir. But it doesn’t seem like it would provide much protection for you in battle.
Purely concerned about the safety of our leader,
–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City.
So, I think we can safely file this one under #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh, right?
I mean the letter. Not my answer. Necessarily.
But, let’s put it this way. I don’t think we’ve ever met in person, Tandeleina, but all your letters have come from Silvermoon. So, seeing as you’re most likely a blood elf, let me ask YOU a question: why is it that when it’s time for YOUR people to pick out some armor to wear, more often than not it’s some kind of plate bikini? Or mail. Wouldn’t want to discriminate against the hunters. Or rogues, because when you add leather to the mix, hoo boy.
I was actually going to give a few examples here to illustrate my point, but I ended up deciding against it, because (1) you should be so lucky, (2) we’ve ALL ALREADY SEEN THEM ALL, like every time we freaking GO OUTSIDE in a major city, and (3) I already get enough creepy search terms in my Google traffic, and why court more attention from weirdos?
Still, the fact remains, it seems like every other the blood elf out there feels the need to run around in gear that could double as swimwear. Even when she’s a tank. Take a second and think about that one, by the way. Her WHOLE JOB is to be WELL-PROTECTED. She TAKES and MITIGATES damage FOR A LIVING. And what outfit did she pick out for this endeavor? The ol’ plate-kini.
See, this all comes down to a strange principle of physics that most people don’t know about. It’s called the Focus Distortion Field. Here’s the basic equation:
Where your opponent’s chance of hitting you gets reduced by an amount that can be calculated using your total body surface area, St, the surface area of skin coverage, Sc, and that whole mess of stuff in parentheses, which represents your personal hotness level as determined by body observational optimality times exhibitional enticement, or, if you want to can treat the surface area fraction as your Nudity Index, you can just remember the whole damn hit penalty calculation as Nudity times BOOTEE squared.
Bottom line: the hotter you are and the more you’re showing it off — you know, without leaving yourself TOTALLY vulnerable to a really really bad glancing hit — the harder it is for anyone to concentrate enough to actually hit you. So, see, it’s actually just all about the math.
So there. That’s your technical answer to why I don’t wear a shirt.
The REAL answer, though?
With abs like this, why WOULD I?
<waggle>
Why haven’t you replaced your well worn, torn, and stitched back together again pants? I would think there would be plenty of tailors that would be more than honored to stitch you a new pair of pants.
–Ruekie, Shaman-in-training
Nice to hear from you, Rook. I mean, it’s only been like twenty minutes since I saw you IN PERSON, but you know what? I’ve given up trying to figure out this thing with you writing me letters all the time.
(By the way, this whole letter-writing thing with Ruekie is even weirder and more endemic than you guys get to see. I pick and choose which of these letters of hers I use in my mailbags. She sends me like three a day. Half the time she’s asking stuff that it doesn’t even make sense to be shy about, like what combat drills we’re going to do today, or what’s for lunch at the mess hall. Your guess is as good as mine.)
So anyway.
Item number one:
I WILL THANK YOU TO STOP STARING AT MY PANTS, ROOK. I don’t want this to be a conversation we keep needing to have, dammit.
Item number two:
What the fuck is this, “EVERYBODY TAKE A VAGUELY CREEPY INTEREST IN WHAT GARROSH IS AND ISN’T WEARING” WEEK? I mean really, between you and Tandeleina, what the fuck gives? Yeesh.
Item number three:
Look, I’m going to be straight with you here. Yes, sure, I can get a tailor to stitch me a new pair of pants. You think I never tried that? I’ve had I-don’t-know-how-many pairs of pants made. And I could do it again, sure. I could head right over to Magar’s Cloth and have some new pants made. And you know what would happen then? The same thing that’s happened every OTHER fucking time I’ve had new pants made: they’ll just wind up being ripped and worn from my many and sundry female fans flocking and grabbing and otherwise just… you know… trying their damnedest to get at the good stuff.
Because, you know.
#TheLadiesLoveGarrosh
#ToAnUnhealthyDegreeActually
And I mean, after a while, when that shit keeps happening, it starts getting expensive buying a new pair all the time. It’s just easier to patch them up and get a little more mileage out of them. LET IT NEVER BE SAID THAT DEAD SEXY DOESN’T COME AT A PRICE.
I have it on good authority that you like tomatoes. True or false?
–Valinora “Lightshorn”, Stormwind City
…Professor G?
I mean, okay, it’s not like it doesn’t have a certain ring to it, because it does. But it makes me sound like… I don’t know… like I’m the brainiac mentor of some team of superheroes, and we have our underground compound with a Proving Grounds-type training room with animated target dummy illusions, and I’m all guiding them to get them ready to fight the good fight. Which actually isn’t completely detached from reality, come to think of it, so maybe I should get Gurtash on that.
Hmm. Nah. That shit would never take off. Also, fucking hell, I need to stop spending so much time around Spazzle. His geeky bullshit is starting to rub off on everybody.
Anyway. What was the question again? Oh, yeah, tomatoes.
And you know what? I don’t know where these rumors get started. First there was the talk about me having a half-draenei daughter (which, okay, that one was totally true), then there was the story about me getting lapdances now and again from a Zandalari troll (fine, guilty as charged on that one, too), THEN there was that business in all the Silvermoon gossip rags about the thing involving Thalassian Brandi (I will neither confirm nor deny this one)… and NOW, people are telling tales out of school that I like tomatoes?
Well, you know what? I have to draw the line somewhere, because FUCK tomatoes. You know what a tomato is? It’s a fucking food decoy. It’s some overhyped garnish that they throw into your food to make it look like you’re getting more food, only all it does is fuck everything up. You ever try taking a perfectly good burger and putting a tomato on it? You know what ends up happening? It just makes everything else in there all soggy and slippery until every part of the burger is sliding in a different fucking direction every time to try to take a damn bite, and to make matters worse, it’s taking up space that could have been devoted to something else that could be crisp and stable and actually give a little traction to help KEEP the damn thing together, like, oh, I know know, BACON.
You tell me: if someone told you you could have bacon or tomato added to your sandwich, which would YOU pick? Yeah. I thought so. FUCK THE TOMATO.
And that seems like as good a note as any to end on. More soon.
Seriously, fuck the tomato.
[Garrosh’s next mailbag will be Monday, February 1. And I promise I’ll be getting the last installment of the comic mini-arc of Gurtash’s return up ASAP. In the meantime, be getting those letters in to the Warchief — use the email link at the top of the right sidebar, or the handy form below:]
Monday GUEST mailbag: Gurtash
Okay, so remember when I announced this guest mailbag by Gurtash, and wondered if I was going to have to find him his own text color? Yeah, well, as it turns out, the kid found a way to make that question moot. Here, let me kick it over to him and let him explain…
Where did you get into art?
What’s your favourite piece you’ve drawn? Get well soon!
–Valinora Lightshorn, Stormwind City
My name is Sarlin. I’m not sure if you read Warchief Hellscream’s blog or mailbag much. I’m a new reader, myself. Not sure if you’ve heard of me at all. It’s nice to see that you’re finally up and about! Well…up, anyway. Healing, I think is the word.
What you did a while ago was really brave. Putting your life on the line for a friend (who I honestly don’t have time to whine about; according to Garrosh, I’m still on the limit with you, too) and coming away with a badge to show for it? That took guts. You’ve done more than the Horde proud, and I really hope you see it.
Incidentally, if the scar is still a bit strange to you, maybe you’ll take a little comfort in the knowledge that I have one in almost exactly the same place. You’ll get used to it over time, don’t worry. Plus, you have a pretty damn good tale to tell whenever you get asked about it! Trust me, they LOVE hearing those in the taverns. Not that I spend much time in them, of course.
Wishing you a speedy recovery. Light be with you.
Rest easy and get ready for your training with Garrosh! Give the rest of the DPS my regard, also.
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade
Spirits be wit’ ya, Gurtash! I heard what happened ta everybody’s favorite artist and praise da Loa that ya recovered. 😀
Since you’re on mail duty while your body still be healing, do ya do any haiku or epic verses of your own besides the art?
–Alayea
