Tag Archives: poetry
Because you asked for it…
Okay, kids, while it’s still National Poetry Month, and I’m still basking in the glow of my GLORIOUS EPIC VERSE VICTORY over Varian (FUCK YOU, VARIAN VOTERS), I figured I’d do a request for another matchup. Credit where it’s due, by the way, you guys really stepped up to the plate with your suggestions in the comments last time. So, without any further ado…
* * * * *
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
BRANN BRONZEBEARD
VS.
LOREWALKER CHO
BEGIN!
* * * * *
CHO:
Once upon a time, in a land across the sea,
An under-mountain kingdom was ruled by hammers three;
The youngest Bronzebeard brother wandered off, the world to see —
The great explorer? He looks like a little poser to me.
You travel, sure, around the world, but don’t know what you’re doing;
You chase down leads but hardly have a clue what you’re pursuing.
But I know, “Branbronzan,” and now I’ll be your undoing:
Both our peoples might love beer, but you won’t like what I’ve got brewing.
Now I’m sure you’ll try your rhyming and you’ll throw your sticks and stones,
But you’ll never change the fact you’re a junior Harrison Jones.
You ran around backpacking but you didn’t go to college;
So take some notes here, kid — welcome to my Seat of Knowledge.
BRANN:
I’m sorry, were ye talking? I think I zoned out,
From another long-ass story that nobody cares about.
When people listen to ye, they fall asleep and they drop;
They tune out long before they ever hear yer Aesop.
Ye got this right: I had no time to stay and rule a nation;
No politics for me, exploring was me inclination.
I roamed ’cross every continent and distant destination,
Unearthing Titan clues from Halls of Stone to Origination.
Now me rhymes are all unshackled and me flow’s unchecked,
So if ye want to battle, know ye’re gonna get wrecked.
They’ll be diggin’ up yer fragments when I finish my attack,
’Cause you’re fightin’ Brann now — nobody’s got yer back.
CHO:
You talk a good game, but your knowledge is a flop.
I preside in scholar’s heaven; you’re off working the gift shop.
You say your guild’s Explorer — you sure it’s not Lollipop?
I’ll call you Phase 3 Elegon — that’s how fast you’re gonna drop.
Into the Vaults I led a raiding team of nearly thirty;
I hung back smiling while I let them go get their hands dirty.
I studied mogu secrets while they fended off attackers;
You don’t discover anything unless it’s done ass-backwards.
You trumpet your achievements but I say it’s contradictory;
For all you do is bumble then Jar-Jar your way to victory.
I interpreted the warnings of the Emperor to heed.
Now the writing’s on the wall for you — but I don’t think you can read.
BRANN:
Don’t even try yer braggin’ ’bout yer strollin’ in the Vaults,
Twice now the world damn near blew up and it was all my fault.
I dug up Titan keepers and set loose Old God monstrosities:
There ain’t no trouble too big for my cat-like curiosity.
I dragged my hapless helpers through so many deadly places —
When I triggered that Tribunal, lad, ye shoulda seen their faces.
Oh, sure, they went complaining and they made a big production,
But I don’t think life’s worth livin’ if ye don’t risk world destruction.
Why, even now I’m on the trail of Titan secrets rare;
These tablets indicate a place, I just have to figure where.
CHO:
Wait, where’d you find those tablets?
BRANN:
In the Vaults of Mogu’shan.
CHO:
You snuck in there behind us?
BRANN:
Have we met? Hi, my name’s Brann.
It seems a strange contraptions’s hidden somewhere in the Vale.
I’ll have to work it more, but rest assured I’m on the trail.
CHO:
Another Titan engine?
BRANN:
Or a prison. Maybe so.
Wait, have ye got Old Gods down here?
CHO:
Not as far as we know.
But let me see that, junior, let a Lorewalker conduct
A proper study of those texts; the meaning I’ll deduct.
I’ll be the one to find it!
BRANN:
Yeah, grandpa, good luck.
CHO:
Better me; you’ll likely find a way to trip a self-destruct.
BRANN:
Ye know as well as I do: only thing worse than “unknown”
Is finding these devices…and then leaving them alone.
CHO:
’Tis true, the scholar’s impulse: though our helpers are perturbed;
Sometimes you simply must disturb what should not be disturbed.
BRANN:
A hidden button on the wall! Its purpose — who knows what?
A Titan secret bigger than your furry panda gut.
I’ll bet it holds a secret!
CHO:
I’ll wager that it’s cursed!
BRANN:
I’m pressing that button!
CHO:
Not if I get there first!
[Brann and Cho run out in opposite directions.]
* * * * *
WHO WON?
WHO’S NEXT?
YOU DECIDE!
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
Again I ask…
WHO WON?
And, maybe even more importantly…
WHO’S NEXT?
No, really.
Since the live blog seemed to go over pretty well, and we DO still have a couple weeks left of National Poetry Month, I may see about putting together another of these battles before all is said and done…provided you guys are able to keep playing muse and come up with some good matchups! So get commenting!
Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge: EPIC VERSE live blog
Those of you who were reading the blog last year at this time will remember Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge – when, in honor of National Poetry Month, I called upon my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS to give me suggestions for a whole slew of EPIC VERSE masterpieces. You all stepped up to the plate (well, those of you who were here at the time…and for those of you who weren’t, WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?), and we had a month full of EPIC VERSE goodness.
This year, as I announced a couple weeks ago, I’m continuing the Poetry Challenge tradition with a live blog. Yes, that’s right, it’s the SECOND ANNUAL Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge – sure to be an annual tradition for years and years to come.
For tonight’s lyrical explosion of spontaneous awesomeness, I’m once again calling on you all to inspire your Warchief. Here’s how this is going to work: when this post goes live, you’re all invited to use the comments to post your ideas and suggestions – you can give topics, themes, characters, turns of phrase, ANYTHING you think might make for a good starting point to give me ideas for what I’m going to write. (Try to keep your suggestions here in the comments, rather than Twitter/Facebook/wherever, so your fellow readers and I can see them all in one place.)
Starting at 8:00 PM EDT, I’ll begin the live blog by adding to this post. At that point, I’ll start composing a new EPIC VERSE masterpiece (or masterpieces?) based on the suggestions you’ve given. Feel free to keep offering new ideas as we go along – I might incorporate new suggestions into the poem I’m writing, or maybe use them for ANOTHER new poem before the night is out. We’ll just see how it goes. In any case…once the live blog has started, keep refreshing this page. I’ll be adding to the post incrementally as I write, and you’ll get to watch your Warchief’s latest EPIC VERSE composed right before your eyes, in progress.
Kind of like getting to see how the sausage gets made. If the sausage was made from the ground meat of the SUPER AWESOME UBER-BEAST RAISED IN THE PARADISE FIELDS OF GENIUS AND FED A STEADY DIET OF SOLIDIFIED PERFECTION AND BADASSERY.
* * * * *
Okay, kids, the show’s about to begin. I’m going to take a moment and take a look at what we’ve got for suggestions so far, and maybe give the latecomers a minute or two to get their initial suggestions in before I get rolling. Keep the ideas coming as we go, and I may still work them in as I’m able…
Remember, keep refreshing this page to watch the live blog unfold in progress.
* * * * *
The Dontrag and the Utvoch came
To celebrate the season,
And brought such pain to any brain
Imbued with any reason.
The Dontrag and the Utvoch asked
The Warchief for permission
To undertake — for sure, half-baked —
A Noblegarden mission.
The Dontrag and the Utvoch told
The Warchief of their plan:
To gather eggs from hopping legs
That bounced around the land.
The Warchief, for his part, approved,
And told them to proceed.
(He thought, of course, the only source
For this could be felweed.)
The Dontrag and the Utvoch ran
Across the Four-Winds Valley,
And high and low sought eggs to go
Into their final tally.
Then near a burrow, D&U
Saw wrigglin’ and squirmin’,
When to the ground, with mighty bound
Leapt out a giant virmen.
The Dontrag cried, “Move fast, Utvoch!
Don’t let it run off! Grab it!”
For sure, he thought, they had just caught
The Noblegarden Rabbit.
The Dontrag and the Utvoch pounced
And lunged with all their might —
Though in no story was their quarry
Such a daunting height.
They found the Rabbit’s fury one
That not a one surpasses,
So by the end, their hoppy friend
Had badly kicked their asses.
The Warchief, when the pair returned,
Was unsure, sad or funny,
Which best to say, to know that they’d
Been beat on by a bunny.
The Dontrag and the Utvoch mused,
“At least we didn’t die.”
And down they sat on asses fat
And dined on humble pie.
EPIC V—
That was weak.
…
The FUCK? Who the hell is this?!
What, you still don’t recognize me, Hellscream? I thought you were good at spotting me online now.
Wait, don’t tell me this is— Hang on.
SPAZZLE!
What’s up, boss?
The likelihood of me drop-kicking your green ass back to the Lost Isles, for starters.
That’s it. Throw another hissy fit and alienate even more of your own people. That’s a formula for success.
Oh…oh no. Don’t tell me Varian broke into the blog again.
OH I’M TELLING YOU EXACTLY THAT, MOTHERFUCKER
Have you considered anger management classes, by the way?
What the hell happened to the SECURITY thingywhatsises you were supposedly building into the blog, like, FOREVER ago?
Ugh. It must be that wireless connection you have down there. I TOLD you Grizzle didn’t know how to set up a reliable network above the level of aluminum cans and some string.
Goddammit. Well try to get him out of here, will you? I’ve got a live blog to do.
You mean this exhibition of fail? Hah. I couldn’t pass up the chance to look in a watch you make an even bigger jackass of yourself than usual.
Hey, don’t be jealous just because I actually know how to string a few words together, human.
Actually, you know what? Go ahead and be jealous of that. Also of all the fans I have, who’ve turned out to bask in the brilliance (BACK ME UP HERE, PEOPLE). And, oh yeah, of how much smarter and better-looking and all-around more awesome I am.
Hellscream, I haven’t done any writing since I was a kid—
I notice you’re not counting your own blog there.
—but even I could do better than these dimwitted nursery rhymes you’re spewing out.
You know what, asshole? YOU’RE ON. Let’s see what you’ve got.
CUE THE AMBIGUOUSLY THIRD-PERSON LEAD-IN!
* * * * *
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
GARROSH HELLSCREAM
VS.
VARIAN WRYNN
BEGIN!
* * * * *
Come on, bring it, Hellscream – hope you’re ready to lose.
I’m pretty sure a basic campfire could rhyme better than you.
I’m the king! The boss! I was born to rule!
Thrall took his Doomhammer and left the orcs with a tool.
While I was ruling orc arenas with my wolf-god-modding
You were a whiny emo bitch busy whining and sobbing.
I’ll crush you, Garrosh, and add it to our duel triple feature
’Cause I’m the High King – you’re just a substitute teacher.
I’ve got no time for your Alliance propaganda,
Gonna beat you down so hard you’re gonna think I’m a panda.
You’re facing Garrosh, Lo’gosh – I was put here to pwn ya.
My dad killed Mannoroth; yours got ganked by Garona.
So the Warchief will pour grief and settle some scores:
I’m taking the lok’tar, all the ogar is yours.
No “either/or” in the fate that you deserved:
Crushed beneath the Horde – AND the one getting served.
Sure, hide in daddy’s shadow – I knew you’d bring up Grom,
I don’t remember that he ever had to use a mana bomb.
You’re on your own now, worried yet? ’Cause your lackeys you’re lackin’ –
You’re not getting bailed out now by your magnataur and kraken.
I’m coming with a gag order, I’ve had more than enough,
You’re so much talk, even your howling axe won’t ever shut up.
You’ve got a skull that’s all tiny, and your jaw’s extra large –
Between your mouth and your brain, I guess that shows who’s in charge.
You’re one to talk jaws, Chin-Boy, yours could carve out a mogu,
I’d call you Scarface but you’ve got no friends to say hello to.
Your scars and fail and ponytail – you’re like Lor’themar Lite.
I’ll bake your pride in lemon squares: here, swallow both in one bite.
You’re defensive, apprehensive; I’m offensive, gone berzerker –
I bet Tiffin cut you off, that’s why you had to screw your workers.
My rhymes are terse and yours are worse, so curse and next time go rehearse,
Now FUCK YOU, VARIAN – that’s
EPIC
fucking
VERSE
<drops mic and walks away like a boss>
…
* * * * *
WHO WON?
WHO’S NEXT?
YOU DECIDE!
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
[Thanks for coming, everyone. More weirdness soon…]
Ask a stupid question
So, yeah, I know it’s been a while since I updated. I ended up being really, REALLY busy on Earth Online for a while, so whenever I got done with all my dailies, I was too damn tired to worry about blogging. The worst part of the grind is over now, though, so I should be able to be a little better about updating here.
So speaking of blog matters, there’s a site that some of you probably know about called Klout that tries to measure how influential people are online (to questionable degrees of success). You get a score out of 100, and people can give you these kinda-sorta thumbs-ups for topics you’re supposedly an expert on. And I guess they have some other ways of gauging topics where people consider you “influential.”
So for instance, the Klout people think I’m influential when it comes to blogging, poetry, and comedy. (No word on why “kicking ass,” “being fucking awesome,” and “lemon squares” didn’t make this list.) I don’t know where the comedy part comes from, unless they’re talking about the supporting cast I’m stuck with, and even then I’d consider them more of a tragedy than a comedy, personally. But whatever, I guess that’s their point of view. Comedy is the tragedy that happens to someone else, and tragedy is the comedy that happens to you.
Anyway, I recently got a notice from the Klout people that because of my expertise (damn right, show the proper respect, bitches), I was eligible to answer questions from other Klout users. So when I opened up my page, I had a bunch of trial questions to answer, in Tweet-ish short answer form. And so I figured, I can’t deprive you all of the wisdom I imparted here. So here, copy-and-pasted directly from my submissions on the site…
How should I get started blogging?
First, find a goblin who has a lot of free time and tell him he’s going to set the site up for you because it would be a shame if there was a major fire in the Bilgewater slums. No, you can’t have my goblin, get your own. Then sit your ass down and start typing. When you run out of ideas, stop.
Are there any blogging resources you would recommend?
Yes. Again, you definitely want to have a tech goblin working for you who can set up the site and maintain it and explain nerdy technical shit like deleting. Because the last thing you want is to get stuck having to sit at a computer all day. Again, no, you can’t have mine.
Which blog host site do you prefer and why?
Not that one. I hear it sucks.
What advice can you give someone who wants to make money blogging?
You can make money blogging? That’s fucking news to me! My only suggestion is that no matter how awesome your content is, you absolutely, positively cannot be drawing on somebody else’s intellectual property. Then again, that would be pretty fucking lame in the first place, so, you know.
How can I tell if my content is funny?
Ask yourself this question: Do people laugh at you a lot? If no, I have bad news for you. If yes, ask yourself this follow-up question: When they laugh at you, were you trying to make them laugh? If yes, you’re probably funny. If no…well…hello, Utvoch.
What subject matter should I write my poetry about?
Well for one, you could write about how you don’t end a sentence with a preposition. Whatever you do, don’t try writing poetry about telling Varian Wrynn to go fuck himself, because I’m telling you right now, I’ve got that shit covered.
Yes, I actually submitted all these. Why do you ask?
I have not yet received a notification from the Klout people to thank me for my insight and confirm that my answers would be posted with all due haste. But I’m guessing they’ve just been busy on Earth Online too and I’ll be hearing from them soon enough.
While I’ve got everyone’s attention, though, and while we’re on the subject of poetry, let me remind everyone that the Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge LIVE BLOG will be tomorrow night, April 14. I’ll put up a setup post that evening asking for you all to give me suggestions for EPIC VERSE topics and themes, and start time for the live blog will be 8:00 PM EDT. I’ll be composing a new EPIC VERSE masterpiece based on the suggestions you all make that night, and you’ll get to watch it being composed line by line, live and in person. BE THERE OR BE PREPARED TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF TO YOUR GRANDCHILDREN YEARS FROM NOW WHEN THEY COME TO YOU LIKE “GRANDMA, WTF?!”
Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge revisted
So, with the calendar about to roll over into April, you know what that means – National Poetry Month!
And you know what National Poetry Month means – Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge!
For those of you who weren’t reading the blog at this time last year…well, first of all, WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU? But, letting that slide for the moment (but JUST for the moment, so don’t get too comfy), let me explain. Last year, in honor of National Poetry month, I stepped up to the plate to crank out a month’s worth of EPIC VERSE, all inspired by reader suggestions. The poems were kind of a mixed bag – which is to say, they were varying degrees of SPECTACULAR FREAKING GENIUS. Just as you would expect from your Warchief. Locks in Socks seemed to go over pretty well, for one.
Anyway. I want to do another poetry challenge this year to commemorate the month, but I also want to mix it up a little and not just repeat what I did last year. Plus, there’s so much going on around here what with the Alliance and the mogu and the Divine Bell, I don’t know if I can spare the time to set aside two days a week for poetry. BRILLIANT THOUGH IT IS.
So here’s this year’s plan. I’m still going to be offering up some EPIC VERSE drawing on reader suggestions, but this time around, I’m going to go about it a little differently. Hold on to your ass for this one.
Two words: live blogging.
That’s right, I’m going to live blog EPIC VERSE, and you’re all invited to watch it being composed right before your eyes, line by line. Or couplet by couplet…stanza by…oh, fuck it, you’ll get to see it being written incrementally in SOME configuration depending on what I come up with at the time, okay?!
So here’s how this is going to work. Two weeks from today – SUNDAY, APRIL 14 – I’ll put up a post in the early evening to set the stage for the live blog. Everyone will be invited to leave comments on that post with EPIC VERSE suggestions. It could be a topic, a theme, a character you’d like to see, a turn of phrase – anything you can come up with that will give me something to work with and get the ol’ creative juices flowing. Then, at 8 PM EST, I’ll start the live blog, and you’ll be able to see what I come up with as I compose my newest masterpiece live before your eyes, based on at least one, possibly more, of your suggestions.
Remember, save your ideas for the big night – don’t post your suggestions now, because part of the point of it all is to see what I can come up with when I get your ideas dropped on me that night with no time to prepare. Otherwise, though…be thinking of ideas, and clear your schedule on the night of April 14 – EPIC VERSE AWAITS.
Don’t say I never gave you anything
It’s been a while since I treated you all to a little EPIC VERSE, so here, a little tidbit to help fill the horrible void of your futile lives of not being me:
There once was a human whose parryin’
Couldn’t hold back the axe that I’m carryin’;
To flee from a beating
He ran off retreating,
To which I’ll just say: Fuck you, Varian.
EPIC VERSE!
Oh and hey, don’t forget to vote on Krog’s ongoing investigation in Pandaria — I’ll be sending new orders off to him soon.
It’s a celebration, bitches!
We took our time marching back to Orgrimmar from the glowing crater that used to be Theramore. Most of the way, Baine and Vol’jin sulked and moped like somebody had killed the family pet, but overall the troops were in good spirits, to say the least. And then, when we finally approached Orgrimmar, morale took an even greater turn for the better.
Outside the city, people were gathered to greet us. Hundreds – maybe thousands – of citizens of every race, gathered at the front gate and all across the Dranosh’ar Blockade, waving, cheering, crying out to us as we approached. They were gathered so densely that we couldn’t even get in the gate when we finally reached it. It was like the hero’s welcome we received on our victorious return from Northrend – only better. More raucous. More jubilant. More hopeful for the glorious future for the Horde that we could all feel dawning.
The crowd chanted my name as I sat on my worg at the gate. They wouldn’t stop until I finally called for them to listen while I told the tale of our triumph. When I finished, they burst into another spontaneous chant: “Death to the Alliance!”
Music to my ears. Almost enough to full the hollow ache that’s nagged at me since Northwatch.
On the way back to Orgrimmar, I sent orders to Captain Gharga and the fleet at Theramore for the next stage of our plan. The fleet will spread around the continent and form a blockade around all remaining Alliance ports: Lor’danel, Feathermoon Stronghold, Rut’theran Village, Azuremyst Isle. They’ll all be sealed off from outside support and then, one by one, we’ll move in and pick them apart, until finally, Kalimdor will belong to the Horde and the Horde alone.
But that will be a victory for the future. The NEAR future, make no mistake, but the future nonetheless. For today, we have another victory to celebrate.
I’ve ordered six days of festivities in Orgrimmar to commemorate what I know will prove to be the turning point in the history of the Horde. All of our warriors are instructed to remain in Durotar for the length of the celebration, and I’ll be issuing individual summons for all those I’ll be expecting to stay in Orgrimmar proper. Six days of celebrations – raptor fights for our entertainment, sparring contests with generous prizes funded personally by yours truly, food and drink for all. As it happens, our return home coincides almost perfectly with Brewfest, so all the better – beer and grog from around the world! Tap every keg in sight, boys and girls, and let the ale flow – all on your Warchief’s tab. Let it wash down the feasts – and oh, man, will there ever be feasts. All accompanied by lok’tras and lok’vadnods by the best of our bards and poets.
And you know what that means. Oh yeah.
Jaina, are you shattered
Over Theramore, all splattered?
Towns, by sleight of hand, you
Can’t just conjure up, now can you?
If not, tough – no QQ’in’,
You’re just stuck now ruling ruins.
Of course, that would assume
You weren’t blown up when things went boom;
Chance you’re grieving now decreases
If you’re smashed to little pieces!
But whether live or dead you lie,
Now you’ll weep and you’ll know why:
Orcish destiny restored,
All opposed fall to the Horde!
Tis the blight humans were born for,
The Alliance that you mourn for.
EPIC VERSE!
Enjoy it, Horde. Soak it in. You’ve earned it.
[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Tangerine trees and marmalade skies
So…didn’t get around to posting when I got back in yesterday. I wound up sleeping in late here at Warsong Hold, and I’m actually a little fuzzy as far as what happened after my last post from the DEHTA camp.
Mokvar was supposed to come meet me here in Northrend, but he wound up getting held up by some business back in Orgrimmar. Luckily, Saurfang had his own in-house scribe on hand to keep a record. See for yourself.
Scene: High Overlord’s Command Room, Warsong Hold
[High Overlord SAURFANG paces back and forth, dictating to ADELENE SUNLACE, Inscription Trainer and personal scribe.]
SAURFANG
…and so, Chieftain Icemist, with the Scourge thwarted and the Nerubian threat contained, I believe the time is right for us to begin the long-overdue work of reclaiming the lost settlements of your taunka brethren and securing them under the banner of the Horde. I look forward to our continued correspondence. Honor go with us all—
RAZGOR
[From outside.]
High Overlord!
TO’BOR
[Outside]
Make way, mon! We be coming’ t’rough!
[Enter OVERLORD RAZGOR, Executive Officer of Warsong Hold, and WIND MASTER TO’BOR, propping up a staggering WARCHIEF GARROSH HELLSCREAM between them. The Warchief’s personal wyvern wanders in behind them.]
GARROSH
HA! Oh man, watch that last step, it’s a bitch! HAHA!
SAURFANG
Warchief! Men, what’s happening here?
TO’BOR
Da Warchief came flyin’ in on his wyvern, sir, an’ done come down unsteady on the landin’ platform. He tumbled right offa da wyvern an’ stumbled over to da wall, an’ fell right over da edge, mon!
RAZGOR
I saw him come in from the ground, High Overlord. The Warchief would have been badly hurt at the least, if the wyvern hadn’t swooped down and broken his fall.
SAURFANG
Thank the spirits for that much. Are you all right, Warchief?
[Garrosh peers back at the High Overlord quizzically for a long moment, then breaks into a wide grin.]
GARROSH
You’re like, all pruney and shit, you know that, Saurfang? HAHAHA!
SAURFANG
Well, he appears to be in good spirits, at the very least.
RAZGOR
Yes, sir.
TO’BOR
His eyes be lookin’ all bloodshot, dough, sir. Mon.
SAURFANG
So I noticed. I believe you men can release him, in any case.
[Razgor and To’bor release their grips on Garrosh, who stumbles forward, looks around, then starts to teeter to either side with his arms flailing around at his sides.]
RAZGOR
Whoa, hold on!
TO’BOR
Whoopsie-daisy-mon!
[They catch Garrosh again and steady him, then carefully let him go again. The wyvern walks up close to Garrosh and leans against him lightly on one side.]
SAURFANG
To’bor, if you would, why don’t you escort the Warchief’s animal to the stables.
TO’BOR
Yessir. Mon.
[To’bor grasps the wyvern’s harness and tries to pull it toward the side hall. The wyvern doesn’t budge, and after several tugs of increasing force from To’bor, it snarls at To’bor and snaps at him, forcing him to jump back.]
TO’BOR
Okay den, now we jus’ got to show da wyvern who da boss here!
[To’bor grabs at the wyvern by the scruff of its neck and tries to pull it toward the floor. As he does so, the wyvern spins its body in the opposite direction, yanking him over it; while he is disoriented, the wyvern grabs the hood of his cloak in its teeth, flings him onto the floor on his back, and pins him in place with one paw pressed firmly on his chest.]
GARROSH
HAH! That’s awesome! That’s it, Mortimer, show ’im who’s the alpha up in his bitch! Hahahaheeeeee… [Snorts.]
[To’bor struggles to get out from under the wyvern’s paw without much success.]
SAURFANG
So, then…Warchief…since you are…well…
GARROSH
Varok, buddy, I’m fuckin’ fantastic. [Chuckles uncontrollably.]
SAURFANG
Yes, I see…
GARROSH
[Continuously laughing while talking.]
Va-rok, Vaaaa-rok…hey, do people ever call you Rokky? Haha…because they totally should! You look like you could be a Rokky, dude.
SAURFANG
[Sighs.]
Warchief, listen to me very carefully. While you were at the D.E.H.T.A. camp, did anyone, by chance, offer you a brownie?
GARROSH
Haha, dude, who DIDN’T offer me a brownie? And, and let me tell you, Rokky… Heh…heh HA… Um… Yeah, so. So those salads they got there are shit, but dude the fuckin’ brownies are AMAZING. I… I think I had… um… [He holds both hands in front of his face, and moves fingers on both hands as if counting silently.] Um, yeah, a LOT! Hahah!
SAURFANG
Oh dear.
TO’BOR
I coulda been tellin’ you dat, mon.
GARROSH
Oh and DUDE, lemme tell you, those things are fuckin’ scumptious. [He blinks.] Um. Scumptious? No…scruntious. Scuntious.. Sc-rrrrrunnnn-tious. DAMMIT! Scummmmm-ptious… UGH! Dammit my tongue won’t say it right!
SAURFANG
Suffice to say they were flavorful, and we move on, shall we, Warchief?
GARROSH
NO, fuck that shit, I’m not going to let my stupid uncooperative tongue beat me! Scuntious! DAMMIT! Scruntious—FUCK, almost! Scumptious! Scumptious! Scruntious! SCUNTIOUS! DAMMIT DEFIANT TONGUE!
[Garrosh brings both hands to his face and starts poking around his mouth angrily, eventually pinching his tongue between the fingers of one hand and holding it at full extension. With his other hand, he hurriedly reaches behind him and draws Gorehowl.]
RAZGOR
Whoa!
TO’BOR
What you be doin’, mon?!
GARROSH
YOU DITHHODDOR DE HORDE, INTHOLENT DONGUE!
SAURFANG
Hold him, men!
[Saurfang and Razgor, aided by the wyvern holding the back of Garrosh’s belt in its teeth, grapple with the Warchief and eventually manage to get Gorehowl away from him. To’bor tries to get up to offer his aid as well, but the wyvern thwarts his every attempt to rise by flattening him against the floor again emphatically.]
TO’BOR
Dis be a strong wyvern ya got here, mon…
SAURFANG
Now then…Warchief …did your visit to the D.E.H.T.A. camp elucidate the current conundrum?
GARROSH
What the who?
SAURFANG
Did…you learn anything?
GARROSH
OH YEAH!
SAURFANG
Ah, good. What news, then?
GARROSH
Have you been over there before?
SAURFANG
I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, no, Warchief.
GARROSH
Okay, so check it… [He stumbles shakily to Saurfang, puts one arm around his shoulder, and leans in close, then pokes at Saurfang’s chest with one finger every few words.] Okay. So. No matter…how sick you get of the salads… [He nods seriously a few times, then stares at Saurfang for several seconds.] What was I saying?
SAURFANG
Warchief?
[Garrosh continues his even stare for several seconds more, then looks around.]
SAURFANG
That would be you, sir.
GARROSH
What? OH YEAH, fuck, it is, right? HAHAHA, I’m Warchief – RECOGNIZE, bitches!
RAZGOR
Lok’tar!
TO’BOR
[Still pinned down by the wyvern.]
For da Horde!
[Saurfang glares at them impatiently and, behind Garrosh’s back, waves at them with one hand to stop.]
SAURFANG
So, Warchief… You were…starting to say about the D.E.H.T.A. camp? And…something about… [He sighs briefly.] …salads?
GARROSH
[His eyes go wide in recognition, and he resumes poking at Saurfang’s chest rapidly and energetically.]
OH YEAH! Fuckin’ hell yeah! SO! So, so, so, um… No matter how sick you get of the salads… If they offer you a burger… [His eyes widen as his face turns very serious.] DON’T.
[Saurfang watches him for a moment, purses his lips, then finally speaks.]
SAURFANG
Warchief…did they know anything pertaining to the problem of the armed animals across the various zones?
GARROSH
HOLY SHIT THEY DID, HOW DID YOU KNOW?! [Stares wide-eyed a moment, then starts laughing hysterically.]
SAURFANG
And…sir…what did they tell you?
GARROSH
Okay, okay, so. SO. They were talking ’bout this…nutjob druid who was nutjobby even for them, right? Like this guy was such a big animal lover, he didn’t even like shifting out of his animal forms, you know?
SAURFANG
Yes, sir…
GARROSH
Like…like… LIKE A BEAR! RAAAARRR!!! HahahahahaHA! Rar.
SAURFANG
Yes, sir.
GARROSH
Hahahahahahaaaa… Like a bear! RAR!
SAURFANG
[Rubs his forehead.]
Yes, sir. Like a bear.
[Garrosh leans against Saurfang, putting his face on the High Overlord’s shoulder, and laughing hysterically for a few moments.]
SAURFANG
Warchief…please try to focus. Was there anything else?
[Garrosh straightens up suddenly, and teeters for a moment. Razgor runs over close in anticipation of the Warchief falling over backwards.]
GARROSH
OOPS! Haha! Um, yeah, okay. SO. Um… So yeah, I’ve got a name to check up on, and one of them, the birdy lady what’s-her-face, um, she said the guy used to talk a lot about Stranglethorn Vale, and plus…um…yeah, what with him being a troll, he might be wandering around in the jungle there.
SAURFANG
Well, that’s a promising lead at least, Warchief.
GARROSH
Right you are, Rokky! HAHA! Vaaaa-rok! Varok Varok Varok! OH HEY! There once was a warrior named Varok!
TO’BOR
Here we go, mon…
GARROSH
Who passed on all servings of hamhock!
SAURFANG
True, I do not eat pork.
RAZGOR
Is that a religious thing?
SAURFANG
No, I just don’t dig on swine, that’s all.
GARROSH
Now I won’t deceive you —
He’ll pummel and cleave you,
And leave your sad ass really shellshocked.
EPIC VERSE![Garrosh throws both hands into the air as he yells “EPIC VERSE!!!” When he finishes the roar, he loses his balance and spills flat onto the floor, face-down.]
SAURFANG
Warchief! Are you all right?
GARROSH
[Slightly muffled from his face being on the floor.]
You know, this map on the floor looks fucking HUGE from down here! HAHA! [Punches the floor a few times while laughing.] You know what you need down here? One of those big fur rugs. Like…LIKE A BEAR! HAHAHA!
SAURFANG
Yes, sir…
RAZGOR
Like a bear.
TO’BOR
Rar, mon.
SAURFANG
What was that, anyway, Warchief?
GARROSH
What do you mean, what was that? That was EPIC VERSE! HAHAHA!
SAURFANG
I’m not sure I understand…
RAZGOR
Do you not read the blog?
SAURFANG
I rarely ever use that infernal machine.
GARROSH
Oh oh oh oh OH DUDE, you should totally get on the computer more, I could totally hook you up on Earth Online!
SAURFANG
Should I know what that is?
RAZGOR
It’s this thing on the internet.
GARROSH
Yeah, dude, it’s a really cool game.
SAURFANG
A…game?
GARROSH
Yeah, a computer game!
SAURFANG
And…you play this game, sir?
GARROSH
Hell yeah! I’m totally gonna sent you a RAF link after this. HAH that sounds funny — RAAAAAF hahaha…
SAURFANG
Warchief…you’re thirty-four years old.
GARROSH
RAAAAAAAAAFFFFFFFFF… HAHAHAA… [Slapping his hands randomly on the floor while he laughs.]
SAURFANG
Come now, Warchief.
[Saurfang and Razgor help Garrosh back to his feet. As they lift him, Garrosh points to a spot on the floor and bursts out laughing again.]
GARROSH
Hey Saurfang! Hey! Check it, see that spot right there? That’s…hehehe…that’s the EXACT. SPOT. Where you told me that time…haha… where you told me you’d kill me before you let me lead the Horde to ruin!
[Garrosh leans against Saurfang, laughing hysterically while draping one arm each over Saurfang and Razgor, letting them hold him up. As his laughter grows weaker, he pulls them closer to him on either side.]
GARROSH
[Sob-laughing.]
I fuckin’ love you guys!
SAURFANG
[Aside.]
I’m sure Thrall had his reasons…
So, yeah. Maybe not the proudest day for me, but whatever. At least we’ve got a lead and can see about tracking down this loose cannon druid guy. Not sure what’s up with Saurfang’s scribe funky-ass formatting, but I guess not everybody’s going to do things Mokvar-style. If it works for Saurfang, fine.
I’ll be heading back to Orgrimmar. First, though, I need to see what they’ve got to eat around here. I’m fucking STARVING, dude. Not to mention, my sides are fucking killing me.
“Kids these days and their felweed…”
All my troubles seemed so far away
Okay, so remember what I was saying about not wanting any more complications? Yeah, I should probably know better by now than to say shit like that. Mokvar, Faranell, and Utvoch just got back from burying the bodies of those Alliance adventurers. At least THAT much went off without a hitch. After they got back, though, Mokvar hit me with the first wrinkle in this whole plan – apparently, back in the day, HE was one of the orcs being held in Durnholde Keep along with Thrall, which could cause the tiny little problem that if he goes there, he runs the risk of…like…running into himself, and…I don’t even know what that would do to the timeline. Liadrin could probably explain it, seeing as she actually seems to understand this timey-whimey crap, but who has the patience, right? Bottom line is, we have Mokvar troubles.
Oh, but the Mokvar business isn’t even the biggest fucking-up-the-timeline issue we have to deal with. Oh no, we’ve got ANOTHER wrinkle to deal with that will make you wish you could go back to the happy-go-lucky headaches of the Mokvar thing. Because check THIS out – it turns out our buddy Faranell has his OWN issues here. And in HIS case, they’re not even as straightforward as Mokvar’s crap. Because check out what the guys got blindsided by on their way back to town, keeping in mind that right now our boy Faranell looks just like he did back in his pre-undead human days…
Faranell, Mokvar, and Utvoch walk down the main street in Southshore, heading toward the inn.
UTVOCH: Wow, you really get EVERYTHING written down in that notebook of yours, huh?
MOKVAR: It’s actually not as hard as you would figure, once you work out a good shorthand system.
UTVOCH: You’ll have to show me sometime, that could come in pretty handy with the next class I take.
MOKVAR: Are you still working on those?
UTVOCH: Yeah, I have to repeat the last one what with them failing me when me and Dontrag handed in the same term paper.
MOKVAR: Wait, Dontrag?
UTVOCH: Yeah, I talked him into taking one of the classes with me, but then he got sick of the homework, and we tried to save time by splitting it up, and…
FARANELL: Wait, you mean it didn’t occur to you that they would notice if you both handed in the same paper for the same class?
UTVOCH: Well yeah, who’d figure they’d remember something like that?
FARANELL: I never thought I’d say this, but I’m starting to think Garrosh is heroically well-mannered…
MOKVAR: Heh, you should see when—
VOICE: <calling from behind the trio> Faranell!
Faranell, Mokvar, and Utvoch exchange quick puzzled looks before starting to turn.
MOKVAR: That can’t be good…
UTVOCH: What the…?
FARANELL: Crap, I think I know… <turning> Oh…um… Hey, Kel’Thuzad.
Kel’Thuzad of Dalaran, accompanied by Helcular, approach the group.
KEL’THUZAD: I thought I recognized you. Good to see you as always, Faranell, it’s been too long.
FARANELL: Um…yes, yes it has, Kel’Thuazd. Just…busy with research, you know how it is.
KEL’THUZAD: <nodding> All too well. I’ve been spending a fair bit of time away from Dalaran myself of late.
Faranell nods nervously while Mokvar and Utvoch edge a step behind him.
FARANELL: Right…so…
KEL’THUZAD: You’ve met Helcular?
HELCULAR: I don’t think so, as I remember.
UTVOCH: Isn’t he the guy that—
Mokvar elbows Utvoch, who (miraculously) shuts up.
FARANELL: No, um, we are meeting now for the first time. Yes…ahem…good to meet you, Helc—erm, that is…Hecklevar, you said your name was? Sorry, I, um, I’m not very good with names that I have never heard before today.
HELCULAR: Helcular.
FARANELL: Ah, okay, Hel-cu-lar. Got it. But, um, yes, nice to meet you.
KEL’THUZAD: And your friends here…?
FARANELL: Oh… Oh, yes… <looks back to Mokvar and Utvoch, then back to Kel’Thuzad> Introductions, yes… Um, well, Kel’Thuzad, this is… Movarius, and…Utley… Old friends of mine from Brill. Fellows, this is Kel’Thuzad, archmage of the Kirin Tor…
KEL’THUZAD: <nodding to them> Gentlemen.
UTVOCH: Hey.
MOKVAR: Archmage.
KEL’THUZAD: Are they also…students, Faranell? Were you bringing them for our meeting?
UTVOCH: Well no, not until next semest—OWW!
MOKVAR: I don’t. Think that’s. What he was talking about. Utley.
FARANELL: Our meeting…oh. Oh! <rubbing his chin nervously> Oh…crap…
KEL’THUZAD: Faranell?
FARANELL: Oh… Um, no, no, Kel’Thuzad, I just…um…
KEL’THUZAD: You seem upset. Is something wrong, my friend?
FARANELL: I… No, I… They’re not here for the meeting, Kel’Thuzad. I just happen to… Well, you see, we try to come to Southshore for a fishing trip every so often, just an old custom going back to when we were kids, you know…
KEL’THUZAD: I see. Why were you so distraught there for a moment, then?
FARANELL: Distraught?
KEL’THUZAD: Yes.
FARANELL: Was I distraught?
KEL’THUZAD: You seemed it.
HELCULAR: You said “Oh crap” for some reason.
FARANELL: Oh. Did I?
HELCULAR: Yes, you did.
KEL’THUZAD: That’s what I heard as well.
MOKVAR: <skimming notes> I have you down for “Oh crap” too, yeah.
FARANELL: Not. Helping.
KEL’THUZAD: Is something wrong?
FARANELL: Oh… Well, no, I guess I just said “Oh crap” because…well…I’d actually forgotten about our meeting. Was that…today? What’s the date today anyway?
HELCULAR: It’s the fourteenth.
FARANELL: <eyes go wide a moment> Oh no…the fourteenth… How did I not remember that was the day…
KEL’THUZAD: You did receive my letter, did you not?
FARANELL: Oh yes…I did… It was just…some time ago, and it slipped my mind entirely…
KEL’THUZAD: <chuckles> You’re as forgetful as always, my friend.
FARANELL: Well, yes. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.
KEL’THUZAD: You should try to rest more. We can’t have you falling ill.
HELCULAR: What is you friend writing, by the way?
FARANELL: Pardon?
HELCULAR: Your friend’s been writing something down all this time.
FARANELL: Oh.
Faranell turns to Mokvar, who’s still jotting things down in his notepad.
KEL’THUZAD: That is rather curious.
FARANELL: Oh…well…you see… Hmm. What are you writing, Movarius?
MOKVAR: Oh. Me?
HELCULAR: You haven’t stopped writing for more than a few seconds at a time.
FARANELL: Yes, that is rather peculiar behavior for someone who isn’t doing anything conspicuous or out of the ordinary at all.
MOKVAR: Oh… Well…um…well, I’m a writer, you see.
KEL’THUZAD: Oh?
MOKVAR: Yes… Well, a poet, actually.
UTVOCH: You are—? OWW!! I mean, um, you are.
MOKVAR: Right. And so, well, I’m just…always jotting down ideas. Thoughts, images, turns of phrase…you know the creative process, can’t pick and choose when inspiration will strike, right?
HELCULAR: So you’re working on something now?
FARANELL: Oh, he’s…he’s always working on something. That’s my old friend Movarius, always toiling over a new masterpiece…
KEL’THUZAD: You know, my cousin is a writer as well. I always admired his talent. It’s one of those skills I’ve never really mastered myself.
MOKVAR: Um, thanks… It’s really nothing…
KEL’THUZAD: Oh, don’t be modest.
HELCULAR: I’d be curious to hear what you’re working on.
MOKVAR: I…what?
KEL’THUZAD: Indeed! Would you mind sharing a bit?
FARANELL: Oh, um, I’m sure Movarius wouldn’t want to eat up everyone’s valuable time…
MOKVAR: Yeah, definitely, I’m sure you both have much more important things to be doing…
KEL’THUZAD: Nonsense! One needs to take the time to enjoy these sorts of pleasures.
HELCULAR: I find I don’t do nearly as much pleasure reading as I would like, so it would be fascinating to hear from an actual working poet, honestly.
MOKVAR: Oh…okay…well then… <flips through a few pages in his notepad> Well, okay, how about this one… There once was an elf named Sylvanas / Who cried—you know what, um, I’m really not comfortable reading this while it’s still just a draft.
HELCULAR: Oh.
FARANELL: It’s all right, Movarius, don’t distress yourself… <patting Mokvar on the back reassuringly, while looking to Kel’Thuzad and Helcular> He tends to get very anxious and protective about his work, you see…
KEL’THUZAD: Ah, I understand. So sorry, Movarius, I didn’t mean to put undue pressure on you.
HELCULAR: <muttering> Temperamental artists…
KEL’THUZAD: I’m sure when you’re satisfied with it, it will be an epic work indeed. You’ll have to send a copy to me when it’s done.
MOKVAR: Sure, sure…might take a while, but sure.
FARANELL: At…um…at any rate, Kel’Thuzad, I should probably see my friends to the inn, but I’ll speak with you about our…business…soon.
KEL’THUZAD: <nods> Of course, Faranell. In the meantime, I may go ahead and begin discussing matters with Helcular.
FARANELL: By all means. I’ll… Um, I’ll talk to you shortly.
KEL’THUZAD: Until then, my friend.
UTVOCH: Nice meeting you, Kel’Thu—oh HEY, is that the guy who—OWW!
Kel’Thuzad starts to walk off with Helcular.
KEL’THUZAD: Keep your voice down, Helcular. Strangers abound…
HELCULAR: So you can teach me this…this…
KEL’THUZAD: Necromancy. It is called necromancy…
Kel’Thuzad and Helcular walk out of earshot while Faranell, Mokvar, and Utvoch make their way toward the inn.
FARANELL: We…really need to get inside before things take a bad turn here.
MOKVAR: You mean when Kel’Thuzad comes looking for you again?
FARANELL: No, I mean when I arrive in Southshore.
Yeah, how do you like THEM apples? For those of you not keeping score at home, our buddy Faranell totally forgot that we just happen to be snooping around Southshore right around the same time HE was traveling to Southshore, as in his old human pre-undead self. Which means that at any point, a duplicate human Faranell could show up right on top of us, which might make things just a TINY bit more complicated as far as making sure none of us cross our own timelines or whatever that shit was that Chromie was blathering on about.
I’ll write more in a little while. Right now I think I need to run downstairs and see if the innkeeper’s got any aspirin, because this whole stinking mess is giving me a frigging headache. I wish this whole damn thing was over. Only it IS. Only it’s NOT. AAAAAAAHHHH I hate this fucking time travel bullshit…
By way of apology
Taking a short break from packing a few things for Nagrand. I was just talking to Eitrigg, and he was pointing out how I got all worked up thinking Varian and Jaina were behind what happened in Demon Fall Canyon, and suggested – fasten your seat belts for this one – that I might want to do something to acknowledge that they really didn’t have anything to do with it. Like…apologize. Which in general I’ve gotta say is a pretty WTF idea, but considering how testy I’ve been the last week or so, I guess it might not be a horrible idea to try to…I don’t know…be a little nice, I guess.
So I’m going to try this very unfamiliar gesture using a fairly familiar form – you guessed it, EPIC VERSE style. Simple, straightforward form, courtesy of Chen Stormstout’s people. Here goes…
Falsely accused, true:
Not your fault for a change — still,
Fuck you, Varian.
Yeah, I know it kind of took a left turn at the end. I tried. I mean we’re talking about fucking Varian here.
