Tag Archives: saurfang
30 Days of Character Development #5: Korrina
[Each week, a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about.]
Name: Korrina
Occupation: Horde military trainee, apprentice blacksmith, part-time ore miner
Race: Orc
Class: Warrior (arms)
Age: 15
Group affiliations: Horde (member), Dead Peons Society (a.k.a. “DPS,” member and resident badass)
Known relatives: Thura (mother), Broxigar (great-uncle, deceased), Varok Saurfang (great-uncle), Dranosh Saurfang (second cousin, deceased), Grimfang (second cousin once removed)
First appearance: “Being a role model is a full-time job” (first mention of trainee group), “Dead Peons Society” (first mention of DPS by name), “Buried treasure” (first full, named appearance)
Key posts and plot points:
- Garrosh first took on a group of high-aptitude trainees in “Being a role model is a full-time job,” and the group adopted its name in the eponymous “Dead Peons Society” after an…unfortunate incident involving a lazy and excessively fragile peon. Korrina was part of the group from the beginning, but was not named specifically until the Krasarang Underground arc.
- Along with many of her fellow DPS trainees, Korrina accompanied the Warchief to Pandaria and continued her training there, in part under the guidance of Mag’har blademasters Krimpatul, Burzum, and Ishi.
- Korrina and the other trainees joined Krimpatul on an ill-fated mission to secure the Temple of the Red Crane for the Horde, beginning in “Departures.” In “Fear leads to anger,” Garrosh learned of an Alliance victory at the temple that appeared to claim the lives of the trainees; unknown to the Warchief, Krimpatul led the trainees into hiding in a nearby system of caves, as detailed in “Reports of my demise” parts 1 and 2.
At the urging of Elder Cloudfall, Garrosh traveled to the temple grounds to investigate the trainees’ disappearance. There, after accidentally falling into the underground caverns, he found Korrina and the rest of the DPS, in “Buried treasure.” This post marked Korrina’s first formal appearance in the blog and the first time she’s referenced by name. Garrosh and the trainees eventually made their escape from the caves, though not before Korrina demonstrated her badassery on some unsuspecting saurok. (And she would have put the hurt on Varian, too, if it hadn’t been for those meddling kids Gurtash and Ruekie…)
- For those keeping score at home, DPS members who have been named thus far are Korrina, Gurtash, Ruekie, Giska, and Kulkesh (our main players in the Krasarang story); Ruekie’s twin sister Tuekie; and Lok’osh, who was killed in the saurok cave.
- Korrina is based on the baby arms warrior of long-time WCB co-conspirator Khizzara, author of Blog of the Treant. Many thanks to Khizzara for letting me steal her character, and for her many contributions to her character – including a large portion of the in-character responses that follow!
In his/her own words:
Describe your relationship with your mother or your father. Was it good? Bad? Were you spoiled rotten, ignored? Do you still get along now, or no?
Well, I don’t know who my dad is. My mom never talks about him. I think he was killed in honorable combat like a true orc hero, but his death made mom sad so she doesn’t say much. She doesn’t talk about my greatparents either. They probably died in the 2nd or 3rd war? I’m not sure… I should ask but sooooo awkward!
My mom is pretty cool though. Good in a fight. She’s not as famous as some of my relatives, though…
Mom was a pretty good mom, I guess. She had to go off and fight and stuff when I was small, something about how her axe was super special, and she had to go chop down an important tree or something.
…Okay, I know that sounds lame, but it was harder than it sounds, okay?
Anyway, since my dad is dead, I had to stay in the orphanage while she was gone to war. That happens to everyone, though, so whatev. She’s back now but I’M off at war. I write to her, though, so she won’t worry too much.
What are your most prominent physical features?
My totes awesome purple mohawk!!! And my bulging biceps LOL
Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from. If you don’t have any, is there a reason?
Only ONE!!?? I’m a WARRIOR, I’m MADE of scars! Okay, hmm… Well, most are just nicks and cuts and things, but once, when I was pretty little, I was playing on top of the old bank in Orgrimmar, the one before Warchief Garrosh rebuilt things, and I slipped and fell and landed on the cactus in front of the door! So all these cactus needles went through my left arm and leg and had to be removed, so I have all these evenly spaced circular scars there. It looks pretty cool, actually.
How vain are you? Do you find yourself attractive?
Um… I guess I’m pretty average looking?? I never thought about it much. Looks aren’t important when you’re usually covered in dirt, sweat, and blood, anyway.
Describe your happiest memory.
This is maybe stupid, but once while mom was away my uncle Varok came to visit me at the Org orphanage — well, I guess he was visiting Warchief Thrall, but he spent a whole day with me. He showed me some cool fighting moves and bought me ice cream and a little teddy bear (which I still have, shh!) and let me stay up real late while he told me stories. It was a pretty chilly night (it gets cold in the desert after dark), but I didn’t want him to send me to bed, and orcs are tough, so I didn’t complain. And it was a really clear night, so he pointed out all the major constellations in the night sky, and we watched the Blue Child come up.
What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?
Strawberry. Deep purple (like my hair!). Power of the Horde by the ETC! Twilight jasmine is pretty, and purple too!
Who do you trust?
I trust my fellow DPS with my life. And my captain/Warchief Garrosh. Never go into battle with people you don’t trust.
I also trust my axe, Lizardbane. (I named it that because it’s great for killing saurok!)
Can you define a turning point in your life? Multiples are acceptable.
– When my mom went to war and I had to live at the orphanage
– When I started warrior training
– When I went with the DPS to Pandaria
How are you with technology? Super savvy, or way behind the times? Letters or e-mail?
I’m not a goblin or a nerd, but yeah, I grew up with computers, so I know some tech stuff. Letters or email? LOL it’s not like I’m old and in my 20s or something. I just text or whatev. Unless it needs to be more official, and then it depends on how urgent the message is. Birthday card for Uncle Varok? Snail mail. Homework? E-mail. And if I really need to send a message, I find that AXE to the FACE works pretty well.
What does your bed look like when you wake up? Are the covers off on one side of the bed, are they all curled around a pillow, sprawled everywhere? In what position do you sleep?
I sleep on my side with my hand on Lizardbane. Usually I wrap the blanket all around myself kinda like a cocoon. I don’t need a blanket though. A warrior can sleep anywhere, anytime!
How do you react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?
I endure them without complaint.
Are you an early morning bird or a night owl?
Night owl. Do NOT talk to me before 10 am unless you want an AXE to the FACE.
Are there any blood relatives that you are particularly close with, besides the immediate ones? Cousins, uncles, grandfathers, aunts, etc. Are there any others that you practically consider a blood relative?
I love my Uncle Varok, but I don’t get to see him much. He’s stationed in Northrend. This is going to sound dumb, but I want to be as awesome as he is someday.
My cousin Dranosh was a cool guy, but he was way older than me, so I didn’t know him much. I was sad when he died, though.
I didn’t really meet my uncle Brox.
I guess I’m mostly on my own, but it’s okay because the DPS is like family.
What does you desk/workspace look like? Are you neat or messy?
I keep my weapons and gear neat and tidy because well-maintained gear is gear that keeps you alive! Otherwise… well, just… don’t look in my bags, okay?
Do you have any irrational fears?
I fear failing to protect my friends, but that seems pretty rational to me. I’m also kinda scared of falling off buildings and landing on cactus. Cactuses. Cactusi?
What would your cutie mark be?
Your skull with my axe through it for asking something so stupid.
If you could time travel, where would you go?
Knowing the Bronze Dragonflight, it’s probably a matter of WHEN, not IF. And I doubt I’ll have much choice in the matter of where. But I guess I’d like to see Draenor… the old Draenor, before it shattered. When the orc clans were still brown and strong.
What might your ideal romantic partner be?
I’ve never thought about it. I guess… strong, confident, skilled in combat, smart (no peons please!), tough, loyal, honorable… a real ORC man, you know?
But I dunno, seems like a bad idea to fall in love. Everyone dies young, so you either lose them, or they lose you, and your kids grow up in the orphanage.
Describe your hands. Are they small, long, calloused, smooth, stubby?
Why? That’s kinda creepy. Do you have some hand fetish or something?
They’re strong and wield a big axe. Think about that when you ask questions.
What’s your favorite comfort food, favorite vice, favorite outfit, favorite hot drink, favorite time of year, and favorite holiday?
Pulled pork. Um, what? I don’t think I have any of those. My armor. Hot cocoa! Autumn. Brewfest. Um! I mean! WINTER VEIL. Yes. Winter Veil. >.>
How do you smell? Do you wear perfume or cologne?
…
Strong hands. Big axe. Remember? Get away from me, you creeper!
Besides, I’m standing right in front of you. What are you going to ask next, what I’m wearing? When I’m standing right in front of you?
But come on, I’m a warrior! I wear plate armor and do vigorous physical activity all day. I don’t smell of roses. Idiot.
Previous Profiles:
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[A few reminders and announcements! First and foremost, last call for the Transmogs for Shayari contest – today is the last day to send your entries to garrosh1337@gmail.com. I’ve already gotten many great outfits, and will be looking forward to seeing a few more before the day is out.
Along those lines, I’m planning to put together a pretty big post next weekend, showing off the wide range of looks that folks have offered for everyone’s favorite half-draenei girl. (Sorry, Garona. Don’t come after me.) In order to give myself room to put that post together, without derailing the blog’s main continuity too much, I’m also going to skip next week’s 30 Days profile. I’ll have a new profile haphazardly slapped together the following week (or weekend, most likely). Any requests, as far as whom?
And speaking of next weekend, just a reminder that we’ll be having our next installment of the SoO meta raid. As always, all are welcome; as always, feel free to add Averry#1116 on RealID to reach me to come join the fun.
And finally, one more item to look forward to next week: It’s mailbag time! The Warchief is already busy sorting through his mail, but he can always use more. Use the e-mail address above or the handy form below to submit your thoughts and questions before it’s too late!]
Monday mailbag
Okay, people, it’s been WAY too long since I’ve dipped into the ol’ mailbag, and I have a HUGE backlog of letters, so let’s get right to it, shall we?
The Feast of Winter Veil is approaching, and it made me think. What do you hope to get from Greatfather Winter this year? Do you have any special family traditions? I look forward to seeing Orgrimmar all decorated for the festivities.
Happy Holidays!
–Lorewalker Shara
PS you may want to avoid using tinsel to decorate around Mortimer, unless you like festive poop! Might be a good idea to keep Taktani away from it too, thinking about it.
Hey, Shara, thanks for writing. Hopefully Orgrimmar is looking all Winter Veily these days. I’ll be back for a check-in soon, but I’m probably only going to make it back to town JUST in time to catch the end of the festivities. As for my wish list… I remember addressing this point a couple years ago, and most of the stuff on that list still stands – especially Varian and Magatha’s heads on pikes – but there are a few more things I can think of that I might add to the list for this year.
- An actual explanation that makes sense for what the hell was going on with Mokvar while I was away.
- A wireless network here in Pandaria that’s actually reliable, so I can log onto Earth Online without it being a fucking comedy show.
- An on-site goblin tech guy who can maintain that network without the whole thing going kablooey and spitting out two burnt pieces of toast every time there’s a breeze, because let me tell you, Grizzle Gearslip ain’t happening.
Come to think of it, so far all of these could pretty much be covered if I could get a bunch more Spazzles. Because really, as much as I clown on the guy, he actually knows what he’s doing and gets shit done, and unlike half these other jokers, I don’t have to worry about him running around behind my back doing spirits-know-what. So, other additions to the list:
- A scribe that doesn’t have traitorous tendencies, a busted-up writing hand, or the disposition of a six-year-old on a sugar high from eating all the Hallow’s End candy EVER.
- The secret to controlling the sha.
- A First War commemorative chess set. This is the normal-sized, less creepy version of the chess set Medivh had over in Karazhan. It’s been rumored to be in the works for years, and I’ve finally started to see them showing up on ebAH. Yes, I play chess. Don’t act all surprised, for fuck’s sake.
- Varian’s head on a pike. Did I mention this one?
As far as having family traditions for Winter Veil…not really. I mean, keep in mind, Winter Veil is a pretty recent thing for us Mag’har. We didn’t have Winter Veil back in Nagrand, so we only started picking it up at all after Thrall came out to Garadar a few years ago. Greatmother Geyah really has taken a liking to it, but that’s about it. Plus, not to get maudlin and shit, but it’s kind of hard to have family traditions when you don’t really have a family. I mean, I never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was young. I’m an only child. As far as I know. Assuming Grom wasn’t a bigger pimp than anybody’s given him credit for. Anyhow, point being, Greatmother is pretty much the only family I’ve got nowadays, and even SHE’s not a blood relation – she’s just the one that raised me after Lakkara died. So, yeah. AREN’T YOU HAPPY YOU BROUGHT THAT UP? BET YOU FEEL PROUD.
I am in desperate need of your assistance. I approached Regent Lord Lor’themar with my issue but he said that it was beyond his scope and directed me to contact you.
I recently inherited a house and it is in terrible need of redecoration. You have done a great deal of renovation recently and I was wondering if you could give me some tips to make my house look amazing. Attached is a picture of the house.
Thanks,
–Tegwin
Grats on the new house, Tegwin. Not so grats on the place looking like such a shithole. Because, yeah, that place needs some work. I mean, seriously…the wispy, billowy day-glow curtains? A bearskin rug with the bear head still attached? Strewn out there like you’re getting ready to do a photo shoot you already know you’re going to regret in five years? And… Is…is that a hookah? Just sitting there, right out in the open, in the living room? What are you, one semester removed from college and stuck with a slacker troll roommate who keeps swearing he’ll have his half of the rent this month, and this time he means it, mon, only you know perfectly well that’s not happening because felweed’s a hell of a drug?
So, okay, a few things. You have to lose the pastels, first of all. I know that probably goes against every last one of your blood elf sensibilities, but trust me on this. You want strong, commanding colors – the kind that will make people think “Holy fuck, some serious shit goes on in this place” when they walk in. Lots of reds and grays. Err on the side of darker. Go too dark with the red and you get a bloody crimson, which is still pretty badass. Go too light and you get pink. See where I’m going with this?
Mount some weapons on the walls. If you haven’t cleaned them lately and they’ve got some bloodstains, all the better. It adds to the color scheme I’m talking about, plus it conveys a message of “This person is not to be fucked with.” Spikes. You can never have too many spikes. Or skulls. Get some skulls in there. If you can carve up the body of one of your enemies and, say, make their skull into a chair for yourself, awesome. Or maybe turn their bones into an end table. A hat rack will do in a pinch. If you haven’t killed any notable enemies lately, but you’ve got an infamous foe that you really only know by reputation but somebody in your family killed, and you have THEIR remains somewhere handy, that’s just as good, because that fucker was brought down by your bloodline (AGAIN NOTICE THE BLOOD MOTIF) and you totally deserve to share credit for the accomplishment.
This is all for your living room, of course, and I know my tastes can be a little hardcore. I figured you might want to take it down a notch or two for your bedroom, so I went to Garona to get a woman’s opinion. Didn’t get very far, though. I told her I had a question about the bedroom and tried to ask her if she matches her rugs and curtains, or words to that effect, but she just got all pissy for some reason. So, not much help there. I seriously don’t know what’s up with her sometimes.
Speaking of which…
I’m writing this letter to you in secret and I hope it gets to you and I’m not killed in the process. *looks around*
It’s about Garona Halforcen. Sir, she scares the everliving shi—uh—crap out of me. *looks around again*
I happened upon some history stuff about her and now I’m all confused. She was there when the first invasion from the Dark Portal, then she had a kid with an old man, and she is half-orc, half-dradne dranin demon *looks up spelling* DRAENAI. (She looks like an orc. Smells like one too. I don’t see it.)
Now I’m all confused and sitting in a dark tunnel with a lot of thinking time had me thinking about her again.
What I want to know…*looks around*
How old is she? She’s got to be like….ANCIENT. *hides paper, looks around*
She doesn’t make sense and I don’t want to ask her. She’s scary.
–Ruekie, Shaman In Training
PS: There’s a lot of talk lately with the orc kids about the Red Pox, and if there is something scarier than Garona it’s that. I heard you had it once. Did it hurt? Can you get it again? Can we get it? Can an outbreak happen again? Too many questions and we are getting freaked out. Like FREAKED out. Really.
Okay, first of all… Um, Ruekie, you realize we were JUST in those caves all alone and out of earshot of Garona, right? Not sure why you didn’t just ask your questions THEN, but whatever. Kids.
First, the Red Pox? No, seriously, you don’t want to get into the Red Pox, that was just a bad scene all around. I don’t know why you kids would be talking about it now, but really, just let that shit die. Nobody needs to be digging up THOSE memories for anybody.
Okay, now that that’s settled, on to your main point. Yeah, I’ll grant you the scary thing with Garona. Scariest bitch I know who hasn’t come back from the dead. Although it’s probably a sad statement about my life that the list of people I know who HAVE come back from dead is a lot longer than you would figure. Because – I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before – NOBODY STAYS FUCKING DEAD ANYMORE.
Anyway, here’s the deal with Garona. Yeah, she’s half orc, half draenei. Back in the day, Gul’dan bred an orc and a draenei to create a personal assassin – enter Garona. Yeah, she looks mostly orcish, but I guess these racial mixes are kind of a crap shoot as far as which race’s physical traits you get.
Anyhow, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure exactly when Gul’dan actually orchestrated her birth. I know it was definitely before the Dark Portal opened, and that was about 30 years ago, but before that, there was a window of about 20 years when Gul’dan was up to some Really Bad Shit, so the breeding experiment could have happened anywhere in there. Let’s shave off the first couple years to give Gul’dan time to come up with this idea and for Garona to be brought to term. That would mean that Garona would have to be anywhere from, say, 32 (She’s not. Seriously. I’m 35. There’s no damn way she’s younger than me.) to around 48 or so. Anywhere in between, your guess is as good as mine.
Hang on, though – this gets more complicated when you add the fact that Gul’dan had Garona aged magically so that she could get right to work, no childhood needed. Swell guy, huh? Anyway, the age of adulthood among orcs varies a little from clan to clan, usually somewhere from 13 to 15. (Yeah, I know, kid, can you believe it? Technically you’re an adult. Hard to imagine you’re a grown-up, huh? Well, let me clue you in on a little secret: That thought won’t stop seeming weird for another 20 years.) So that would mean, however old Garona is according to the calendar, she really has the body of a woman 13-some-odd years older. So now we’re looking at a physical age putting her somewhere between 45 and, like, 60-something. Which is kind of a big deal when you consider that 70 is about as old as you could reasonably hope to live as an orc, even if you do a perfect job taking care of yourself.
Oh, but hang on, we’re not done yet. It’s about to get more complicated. (Don’t look at me – I didn’t make this shit up.) Because, see, since Garona has that draenei half, her aging is even more fucked up. Draenei live for…like…forever. I mean seriously, I think the average draenei lifespan is something like “infinity minus twelve.” So you mix THOSE genes in with our good, wholesome “70 if you’re super lucky” orcish genes, and…well… You’ve got a woman who’s technically, like, 40, only with the body of a 53-year-old, only not really because 53 doesn’t mean anywhere near the same thing to the draenei part of her, so…um… Who the fuck knows?
She’s old, okay? Only she’s kind of not. Only she is. Whatever – you go figure it out. Meanwhile I’m going to go check around the room and make sure there aren’t any whooshing sounds coming from the corners.
The following is written in elegant, but slightly shaky, cursive script on pale peach-colored parchment paper
My dear little Roshy,
How are you doing? I have missed you. It’s beautiful here in Nagrand – we’re having the most glorious late-fall weather. I hope all is well in Orgrimmar.
Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend? Sounds serious too… She has been sending me letters telling me about how deeply in love you both are, and has included many pictures of you with little hearts and flowers drawn on them. She says you’re getting married in the spring? Why didn’t you mention it? You would think you’d keep your own family informed, dear. We’ll have to have a little chat the next time you visit. You are coming home for Winter Veil, are you not?
Also, you should take some pictures of the two of you together. And perhaps find a new photo studio. These look like they were printed on magazine paper instead of proper photo paper. I can’t properly frame them for display, especially not with the lipstick kisses smeared all over them.
All my love,
–Greatmother Geyah.
Hold on, hold on, what… how the… it… GODDAMMIT, SOMEBODY IS FALSIFYING RECORDS OF THEIR WARCHIEF, and…and… Oh fucking hell, now I’m going to have to go out there and explain Photoshop to her. It was bad enough when I had the bright idea to try to show her the internet. Nothing in my e-mail for two months but forwarded pictures of wyverns asking for cheeseburgers. And WHO is this woman who’s…ugh. You know what? I don’t even think I want to know. Even though I can probably think of a couple likely suspects.
Now I’m just imagining somewhere in Orgrimmar there’s a dim, candle-lit room with walls covered by pictures of me, and…no, no, don’t even go any further with that, Garrosh. That way madless lies.
And now on top of everything, I have to squeeze in a trip to Nagrand before Winter Veil totally runs out on me, or I’m never going to hear the end of it. Ugh. Maybe I’ll bring Gurtash, and see if I can maybe distract her a little with the cute kid factor. Or Ruekie? I bet she’d like Ruekie. Plus Rook might want someplace to hide anyway, what with her probably having Garona out for her head as soon as this post goes live.
Very good to hear you have escaped the Saurok caves unharmed. The Horde would be in a very dire position if we were to lose our leader.
I do have one question. Have you ever thought of asking a mage if they could manage to conjure lemon squares? I have no complaints, but the same old sticky buns are a bit tiring after some time (not to mention they turn stale and hard as a rock after some time sitting in a bag). Perhaps you should collaborate with my wife? I am sure she would be very good to collaborate with, or maybe another mage closer to your location.
Regards,
–Shen-Wei Pureblossom
Thanks for writing, Shen-Wei. You know, I HAVE thought of this lemon squares angle before, but here’s the thing. First off, there was a point around this time last year that I really thought Gija down in the Cleft of Shadow was on to something, but the problem is, lemon squares don’t really lend themselves to conjuring, apparently. I mean, you can abracadabra up some pastries that are sorta, KINDA in the same ballpark as lemon squares, but you can tell they’re not the real thing. It’s like the drop-off from real leather to that fake shit that the damn DEHTA hippies try to pass off and think they’re fooling anybody. And once you’re used to eating the real thing, I mean, come on. It would be like going from having me as Warchief to, I don’t even know, a fucking TROLL or something.
Second of all, having spent my whole life eating those lemon squares, let me tell you, we don’t need mages recreating Greatmother’s recipe, because IT’S ALREADY MAGICAL. (See? See how I’m already working on smoothing things over with her? For real, I’m so fucking diplomatic you could just shit a brick.)
Also, even setting all that aside… Nothing personal, but I don’t take anybody up on any suggestions that include the phrase “perhaps you should collaborate with my wife” ever since the Incident That Shall Not Be Discussed over at Tharl Stonebleeder’s house. Now stop making me think about things that cannot be unthought. MOVING ON.
Rumors are flying that there is a red pox outbreak. Is this anything like the scourge?
–Kelytas, Blood Elf Paladin, Borean Tundra
Wait, again with the Red Pox? No! We’re not going to talk about the Red Pox. Why the fuck is everybody so curious about the Red Pox all of a sudden?
I really enjoyed that Photo-Op you had with King Varian a while ago. I couldn’t help but notice that King Varian had a wonderful tousled-Anime-pigtail thing going on that was at the same time sexy but tough, and you…well, you just look cranky.
I checked in with the Couturier Barbershop in downtown Orgrimmar and was quite frankly shocked at the dismal array of hairstyles available. An up-swept Mohawk with a scarf? Are you kidding me?
I know you might have a couple of things on your plate right now but seriously, you really need to look into this before the entire Horde start looking like extras from Naxxramas.
Maybe you could contact King Varian, find out who does his hair and we could have a Stylist Exchange with one of our Barbers so they could learn some new hair techniques and bring back the Glory of the Horde.
I also noticed that our Tailors are in desperate need of new patterns. Malevolent-style silk pantaloons? Really? That is so last-season…
–A Concerned Fashionista Blood Elf
Lor’themar, is that you?
Yeah, let me get right on that. I’ll send a special diplomatic courier right over to Stormwind with a note that says, “Who does your hair??” Yeah, that would go over great, I’m sure.
Hmm. Actually, come to think of it, a message like that would probably seem SO weird to Varian that it might fuck with his head a little. Like, I can totally imagine him reading that and thinking, “Garrosh wouldn’t give a shit about my hair…WHAT IS HE UP TO?” And then he gets all paranoid and shit. And meanwhile I’m just sitting back and not doing anything, and the longer this goes on the more paranoid he gets – ESPECIALLY when it’s time for him to go to the barber, because, hey, THIS IS WHAT GARROSH WAS ASKING ABOUT. And maybe he gets so messed up and suspicious that he stops going to the barber altogether, and his hair grows and grows, and finally he’s just got this total mess of a rat’s nest on his head, until maybe he eventually can’t stand it anymore and shaves it all off and ends up bald. Same as me.
There you have it, ACFBE. Problem solved. Garrosh comes out ahead of the curve yet again. Boom.
I’m studying Orcish History at school and need to write an essay. I thought I’d write about the Red Pox and it’s impact, and I thought it would be neat if I could quote you on the subject, if you don’t mind.
I know it was a terrible illness, but there aren’t any first-hand records that I’ve been able to find. What was it like to live with the Red Pox? Do you remember much from those years? Did you notice any major differences between Orcish society as a whole and the way Orcs lived in Garadar? Pretty much anything you can remember would be great.
Thanks!
–Anonymous Scholar, Orgrimmar
Okay, so at least NOW I have some idea of why everybody’s got the Red Pox on the brain this week. So okay, fine, just this once I’ll talk about it, seeing as I’m probably one of the only Red Pox survivors a lot of these kids will have the chance to meet.
It sucked.
What, you wanted more? FINE.
I’m not going to waste time going over the symptoms, because there must already be records of that, and I’m pretty sure neither one of us wants to spend our lunch break reviewing my childhood vomiting habits. But yeah, I had it as a kid, and even setting aside the physical suffering of it all, I can’t stress enough how much of an effect it had on the culture of Garadar. I mean, you asked if there were any major differences between Garadar society and orcish society as a whole? Fuck, what WASN’T different? The Red Pox hung over our whole culture. It touched everything. We had whole generations who were born and died – prematurely, granted – under the bane of that thing. That was the worst part of it, really – the sense of resignation it left us with. It was like, for a lot of us, there was this sense that the Red Pox came for our grandparents, and then it came for our parents, and now it’s going to come for us.
Over the years, our shaman kept working to find a cure, and every so often there would be a glimmer of hope that maybe they had something. But then there would always be some disaster that would undo it. After a while that became part of the gloom and doom of it – the shaman would come up with a new possibility, and you never quite stopped hoping, but deep down you were thinking, “Okay, let’s see what fucks it up THIS time.” Even when they finally did find a cure, and the suffering could finally end, a lot of us couldn’t even quite believe it was really happening.
Adding to all this, by the way, was the fact that over in Telaar, the draenei had their own parallel illness going on for a while. It was called the lank distemper – or the “Lanks,” as a lot of folks ended up calling it. Basically an infection that caused severe dehydration and loss of appetite, so the afflicted would wither down to these scrawny shadows of their former selves. Sometimes the two diseases would flare up as if they had a contest going to see which one could kill more victims. Which made for some miserable times for everybody involved. Believe me, for anyone who was living through it, you do NOT want to get them started on the whole Lanks / Red Pox rivalry.
Is that enough? Are you happy yet? Or do I need to relive the time the conjured healing sphere rolled between Bullrok’s legs and into the lake, too?
Winter Veil is here! Time for a great orc cheer! Lok’tar!
I am so looking forward to making cookies and milk for Greatfather Winter this year with my new cooking skills I learned from Pilgrim’s Bounty holiday. I may even add some lemon squares to add some extra favor. I’m really hoping this year he’ll give me a ferocious armored bloodwing with exotic leather saddle for riding. That would be so cool! (Sigh, I’ll probably end up with another copper racer though.)
What are you hoping for Winter Veil this year, Mr. Garrosh sir?
Varian on a spire tree?
Blood and thunder!
–Ruekie, Shaman-Still-in-Training
PS: Greatfather Winter looks awful familiar, but I can’t quite figure it out. Kinda like Mr. Saurfang, but that would be impossible…I think. (Nothing is impossible with Mr. Saurfang.)
PPS: Winter Veil holiday is a great time for eating. Try no to eat too many lemon squares, though, sir. It doesn’t take much to make your muscles look like marshmallows. D:
Bye!
Wait, Ruekie AGAIN? When the hell is she writing all these letters? Fuck, maybe I should hire HER as a scribe, if this is how fast she can crank out pages. Anyway.
So also, before we get into anything else…hang on, you want a BLOODWING for Winter Veil? A frigging BAT? All of a sudden, a WYVERN isn’t good enough for little miss tornado-pants? You’ve seen Mortimer in action, up close and personal, and you’ve decided, “Nah, let’s give the universe a sporting chance – keep the wings, take away all the parts that really make the wyvern badass, and replace them with a giant blind rat”? Are you KIDDING me?
I already answered the part about what I want for Winter Veil a few letters up, so no need to get into that again. And I’m not going to dignify the lemon squares thing with a response. But I have to comment on that thing you said about Greatfather Winter. You know, one thing that people always say about Greatfather Winter is that there’s no way the guy could possibly fly all around the world and deliver presents to everyone in just one night. Well, I think you might have found the one gaping hole in that theory. So, next time you find yourself in an argument with some skeptic who doesn’t want to believe in Greatfather Winter, just unload this one on them:
“I’m telling you, there isn’t enough time for Greatfather Winter to do all that! It isn’t physically possible!”
“What if Greatfather Winter is really Saurfang?”
“Oh… Um… Well then.”
I hear you had de red pox, mon. On dat game Earth Online dey has a disees call chicken pox. Es dat de same? (What do chickens haf to do wit dat?)
Dey say in dat game, once you hav it, you cannot get et again. Yah, mon, you are now invisible to dat disees, like de lich king’s horse. Dat is good news!
Cheers, mon!
–Bobbette, Out der somewhere
…
Okay.
So.
I am beginning to get the very distinct impression that I may be getting trolled.
What’s dis I be hearin’ about da Red Pox breakin’ out again? It be all anybody be talkin’ ’bout dese days! If you get it, does dat mean ya turns red? I remember seein’ some red orcs back in Hellfire Peninsula, mon, was dey havin’ da Red Pox? Dey go from green ta red? Don’t get me wrong, mon, I don’t want nobody gettin’ sick, but if dere be anudda outbreak, look on da bright side – all dat red an’ green togetha be lookin’ nice an’ festive for Winter Veil!
–Bob, Shado-pan Monastery
I hate you. I really, truly hate you.
Excuse me, Warchief, I write to you from Dustwallow marsh, I came here to see if I could find test subjects for a new flamethrower, and found something much more interesting, there is this mysterious woman on the road to the ruined theramore (hah!) and she seems to be able to send me back in time to look at theramore and the swamp before theramore was destroyed, I went to sleep at mudsprocket and woke up in present day. She seems upset that I was killing humans as soon as I was there, and refuses to send me again.
–Ritaba, Mudsprocket
Wait, wait, hang on. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that there’s someone hanging around Dustwallow Marsh sending people back in time to Theramore before we blew it up? As in, making it possible to totally sidestep our whole victory and interact with the place like it was before? That… fucking hell, THAT DEFEATS THE WHOLE POINT OF US BLOWING IT UP IF YOU CAN FUCKING DO THAT!
You know, this has the Bronze Dragonflight written all over it — or at least it WOULD, if it weren’t for the fact that this is PRECISELY THE SAME KIND OF SHIT they they’ve been recruiting people to PREVENT for years now, and by the way didn’t I just march through like 50 miles of steaming shit over their whole “integrity of the past” deal last year?! But hey, apparently it’s NO BIG DEAL when you’re talking about Theramore, right? SURE! WHY NOT? Hey, how about I zip on back to the past and start fucking with shit too, because I GUESS THAT’S ON THE MENU NOW, RIGHT?
Fucking dragons. FUCKING TIME TRAVEL!
UGH!
I have been reading the history of Pandaria, and discovered something no one has bothered to take note of, seven burdens of Shaohao, the story of how the last emperor of Pandaria defeated the six sha and locked them away in a poor fashion (He couldn’t have kept them from causing havok any time someone gets cranky?), and there are older writings indicating a beast with seven heads, perhaps there is a seventh sha never recorded, it could be the key to controlling them.
–Yinsun, Vale of Eternal Blossoms
Now see, THIS is an example of some research that might actually be useful. You might be on to something there, Yinsun. It DOES seem kind of fishy that we have this story about Shaohao and his seven burdens, and this seven-headed thingamabob, and then we only have six sha that we know about. It’s definitely worth considering whether we’ve got one more sha on the loose that nobody’s thought of. (Hell, I was even bouncing ideas about this around with some people on Twitter a little while ago.)
For anybody keeping score at home, we might as well start with the basics. Right now, we’ve got six sha accounted for: the Sha of Doubt, the Sha of Anger, the Sha of Despair, the Sha of Violence, the Sha of Hatred, and the Sha of Fear.
So, okay, let’s suppose there’s one more out there. Since the sha we know about all seem to be named for pretty major negative emotions or vices…hmm…let’s see, what do we have left for major negatives?
There could be a Sha of Greed, I suppose. Although…I mean, we have goblins with us, and I have to figure if there were a Sha of Greed, people like Grizzle Gearslip would be setting the fucker off left and right. The Sha of Jealousy, maybe? Makes sense on paper, but again, you’d figure we’d be having outbreaks all over the place, seeing as we’ve got a base full of people who’ve been watching me stroll around day after day. And you KNOW the peeps get jelly when they feast their eyes to the pure awesome that is yours truly, amirite?
So we’re kind of running out of major vices to pair up with the missing sha. What else is there? Free-associate, Garrosh… hmm… the Sha of Gluttony? The Sha of Sloth? The Sha of Anteater?
Hang on…I think that line of thought took a wrong turn on me somehow.
Maybe we’re going about this wrong. Time to think outside the box a little. For all we know, this last sha could be kind of a niche sha, something more specific and less…well…grandiose. Which might explain why this one might have been able to fly under the radar all this time. So, let’s see, what else could be out there as the sneakier, subtler bane of our existence…
- The Sha of Social Awkwardness
- The Sha of Small Talk
- The Sha of Poor Table Manners
- The Sha of Bad Penmanship
- The Sha of Bad Spelling
- The Sha of Typos (possibly related to above)
- The Sha of Not Picking Up After Your Wyvern
- The Sha of Repetition
- The Sha of Redundancy
- The Sha of Telegraphing Bad Jokes
- The Sha of Walking Really Slowly in Front of People at the Mall
- The Sha of Paper Towels with Inexplicably Strong Perforation So You Try to Snap Off One Square and End Up Yanking Out Half the Roll
- The Sha of Telling the Same Story Over and Over and Over Again Even Though Yes I Already Know How You Met Eitrigg Okay Tirion
Okay, you know what? This is going nowhere fast.
Wait, wait, hang on a second… I could swear I HAVE seen another sha somewhere.
HOLY FUCKING HELL THAT’S IT! THE SHA OF HAPPINESS! Come to think of it, I even remember seeing this fucker on Twitter! Fuckin’ A, I KNEW all those annoyingly happy assholes like Mylune were up to no good! IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW.
Okay, that’s going to do it for this time, but keep those letters coming. You guys really stepped up to the plate with this batch of letters, so you know what that means — THE BAR HAS BEEN RAISED. So keep it going, and I’ll try to be back with more wise words soon. Handy form included:
Monday mailbag
So I was finally able to get a decent internet connection going again, long enough to get my mail sorted out, and I figured since I have a decent bunch of letters from you peeps, and I haven’t offered any mailbag love for a while, I might as well do just that. Because you know me – your Warchief is nothing if not all about the love.
It’s my first weekend back in Silvermoon in I don’t know how long, and man, is the mood different around here these days. Whether you’re going to think that’s good news or bad news depends on how you interpret that.
Remember my first letter? The one where I was basically advocating high treason against the Regent-Lord? A lot of us used to be dissatisfied that he was doing a whole bunch of nothing. The impression around here, at least if you believe the spin from the Silvermoon Star-Tribune, is that the Regent-Lord’s approval numbers are way up since he started getting jiggy with it down in Pandaria. Yes, the Star-Tribune is calling what Lor’themar’s doing down there “decisive leadership” and “proactive management”. And the public seems to be buying it.
Either that, or they’re just glad that he’s somewhere else, and hoping he eats a Mogu hammer somewhere along the way. That’s the other way to look at it.
To be honest, I’m not sure which one I’m buying, yet. That’s something I’ll have to think about when I get back to Pandaria.
–A Concerned Citizen
Hey, ACC. You know, my first reaction here is that people probably ARE a little happier about Lori because he’s been away. Problem is, if that were true, you’d think that I would start finding him less annoying since he’s gone BACK to Silvermoon recently. But…nope. He high-tailed it out of Pandaria, then promptly made a big ol’ cluster fuck of that whole business with the sha box…and the less said about the sideshow going on in my Earth Online guild, the better. I suppose it’s still a LITTLE less irritating, but only because I don’t have to listen to him live and in person. At least until he comes strolling back down here again.
Also, not for nothing, but are you sure the reports in your little dorky newspaper are reliable? Who’s doing the writing? It’s amazing what a little propaganda can do for a ruler’s perception. Or so I’ve heard.
I’ve been following some of your interactions with Lord Theron and I was wondering if you limited your observations to him or if you think all Blood Elves are like that.
I’ve been in Pandaria just about since the beginning (but I can’t explain how Anduin got away–that was General Nazgrim’s job, not mine) and have tried to do my part for the Horde. Also: Pandaren don’t seem to have barbers. Anywhere. Not a one on this damn continent. You should give us credit for coming here anyways even with that sacrifice.
Respectfully,
–Vyrin Dawnstar, Shrine of Two Moons, Pandaria
P.S: If anyone told you about Anduin and the Temple of the Red Crane, I deny it all. Not me. Nope. Must’ve been someone else helping him. If that hasn’t been brought to your attention yet, please ignore this part.
Hmm… Well, Vyrin, I guess that depends on what you mean by “all blood elves are like that.” I mean, like what? Spindly and break-easy-ish? Because, well, sorry, but you guys kind of are. A little too preoccupied with the uber-luxurious hair? I refer you to your second paragraph. (By the by, I think the lack of barbers in Pandaria is because the pandas just shed. Can you imagine the cleanup crews you’d need in Silvermoon if the elves were like that?) That said, I DON’T think all blood elves are like ol’ Eyepatch in the absolutely-completely-utterly-useless department. I mean, Lady Liadrin has always struck me as pretty sharp and on top of things, and…um…okay, give me a minute here, I’m sure I can come up with a second example.
Hang on.
Um…
Okay, I’m going to have to get back to you on this, but seriously, I’ve got a…reasonably strong suspicion there’s at least one more I can name.
Also, though, what? Anduin at the Temple of the Red Crane? I’ve heard some scouting reports about that Red Crane place, actually. I may have to do some followup on that place…
That scar on your lip is so sexy. It makes you look very manly and tough. I’ve been wondering though how you got it. I’m sure there is some extraordinary tale of bravery and valor associated with it. I’d like to hear it.
Your devoted admirer,
–Wega
Hoo boy. Here we go again with Wega. So…yeah… For those of you who maybe haven’t noticed, Wega is talking about the scar I have on the right side of my upper lip:
So, okay, I know you’d probably figure I got the scar from some glorious battle, or one of the times I’ve squared off with Varian, or something else like that, but as it turns out, it was really more of a fluke injury. One night about a while back, I was trying to reorganize some of my junk in Grommash Hold, and I was stashing a couple boxes of stuff on a high shelf. While I was stretching up to reach the shelf, I lost my footing and fell over. Now, ordinarily that wouldn’t have been a big deal, except it just so happened that Mortimer was there with me, and was curled up on the floor sound asleep. Until I slipped and fell, and landed right on top of him, and he was so startled that before he knew what was going on, he snapped at me. And, yeah, got a nice chunk of my lip.
So, that was fun.
Gotta say, though, in a way it was kind of endearing afterward – once Mortimer knew what was going on, he DID act all sad and apologetic, and spent the next few days following me around trying to make nice. Once again, wyverns are better people than most people.
Now granted, having my lip cut open by wyvern fangs wasn’t exactly fun, but depending on how you look at it, I still don’t think I’ve gotten the worst of it from Mortimer. That honor probably goes to Malkorok. A few weeks ago, I was talking to Malkorok while I was getting ready to leave the Sanctum of Two Moons, then walked past him to the landing platform out front. Mortimer was following along behind me, and just as he was passing Malkorok, Mortimer stopped, lifted one leg up…and fucking peed on him. Oh man, you should have seen the look on Malky’s face. Especially when I pointed out, “Dude, considering what that usually signifies for a wyvern, you LITERALLY just got owned.”
Heh.
Hehehe.
<snort>
I want to thank you for helping us DPS kids and, you know, stuff.
I have a question though.
What happened to all your hair? I saw pictures of you and you had hair at one time, but now you don’t. Do you plan to grow your hair again? How would you wear it?
–Ruekie, Shaman-in-Training, Domination Point
What is this, fucking “Everybody Ask Garrosh to Explain His Personal Appearance Week”?
Oh, wait, hang on, it’s one of the kids.
What is this, blankety-blank “Everybody Ask Garrosh to Explain His Personal Appearance Week”? You kids – DO NOT read that first part from a couple lines up, YOU UNDERSTAND ME?
Anyway, yeah, Ruekie, I used to have a ponytail, right up through my time in Northrend. I wore my hair like that going all the way back to when I was a kid. To tell you the truth, it was pretty much the best of iffy options, as far as something I could do with my hair that would look maybe-sorta decent. See, while Grom had a really thick, full mane of hair, I guess I must have gotten mine from my mom’s side of the family, because my hair was always fairly coarse and stringy and just…patchy all over my scalp. Even as a kid, I pretty much had the beginnings of male pattern baldness going. And really, it shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise that I wouldn’t have that great of a head of hair – you know the old saying, grass doesn’t grow on a busy street.
Anyway, the ponytail was just a way to yank it all together that didn’t look flat-out terrible. Eventually, when I moved to Orgrimmar, I figured the hell with it and just cut it off. Which first of all, is much more low-maintenance. No more spending ten minutes every morning tugging it all together and trying to bind it up and then having the band be too loose so you start feeling it slipping out little by little all morning, or getting that one strand caught halfway through the pull-through and then feeling your roots getting pulled every time you look to one side, or…ugh, yeah, whatever. Way easier this way. Not to mention it’s way more practical in battle – it’s one less thing to get caught somewhere, and one less way for an enemy to grab you from behind.
Besides, much better to just embrace the baldness and go with it, rather than try to compensate with something that looks maybe-not-quite-terrible-if-you-squint-a-little. This way, it just announces to the world, “Yes, I’m bald. DEAL WITH IT.” Confidence is very sexy, don’t you think?
(Maybe I shouldn’t have put it that way. I can hear Wega scribbling out another letter as we speak…)
Cool little web form you have here. Sometimes those techie goblins do have some good ideas. (Not often, but sometimes.)
Anywho, my question for you this week is this: If you were to retire from warchiefin’ tomorrow, who would you choose as your successor and why?
Thanks!
–Kaija
You know, Kaija, this is actually a pretty decent question. For all the good things about the Horde, we don’t really have a clear line of succession. I mean, obviously if I were going to retire – presumably years down the road when I’m a gray-haired (FIGURE OF SPEECH, RUEKIE, DON’T GET EXCITED) old man basking in the triumphant glow of my many glorious victories – I would be in a position to sit back, think it over, and pick out an appropriate successor as Warchief. But what if something happens before I have the chance to? What if I get sick or injured? What if somebody decides it would be a bright idea to throw me a surprise party for my 70th birthday, and the ol’ ticker finally gives out? What if – I know this is a long shot, but still – what if I die in battle somehow before we even get to the wrinkly stage? What then? WHAT THEN, I ASK YOU?
So, it’s probably not a bad idea to put a little thought into who a good successor would be, and maybe establish that that person is next in line, just in case something happens.
And then, you know, make it very clear to that person that I’ve left the Kor’kron with special instructions to follow in the event that I should die under circumstances that are in any way even remotely fishy. Such instructions including, but not limited to, the agonizingly slow execution of the successor, their siblings, their friends, their relatives, their next-door neighbors, and anyone who’s ever been seen being polite to them in public.
You know. Just FYI.
Anyway, we might as well be systematic about this, so I’m going to review some of the likely candidates to follow me as Warchief – and just for shits and giggles, I’m going to group them into suitable categories and even give my best estimate at their odds of getting the nod. Place your bets now.
THE “OH SNAP DID I SAY THAT” DIVISION
VOL’JIN
1,000,000 to 1
Not really an option, because guess what, bitches? HE’S DEAD. HAHAHA <snort> that cracks me up more than it probably should.
THE “I GUESS I’M OBLIGATED TO AT LEAST MENTION THEM” DIVISION
JASTOR GALLYWIX
999,995 to 1
I mean…I guess he’s technically leader of the Bilgewater goblins, but… Well, like, does anybody even know where the fuck he IS half the time? I’m pretty sure the only times I’ve ever seen him were at the meeting of Horde leaders to prepare for the Theramore attack, and the celebration in Orgrimmar afterward. And, well, with the meeting, I pretty much sent notices to every goblin I could think of and then crossed my fingers hoping that word would reach him. And at the celebration…yeah, mountains of free food and booze, so of course he was going to show up for that. Honestly, I don’t get why the guy’s so low-profile. He had a fucking pleasure palace built in Azshara, and you can’t even find him THERE. Believe you me, if I ever commissioned the construction of Garrosh’s Pleasure Palace, you could call off the search parties, my ass would be there.
Hmm. Hang on a second, I need to jot something down on next month’s agenda planner.
LOR’THEMAR THERON
500,000 to 1
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA… Yeah, sure, this guy as Warchief. Do I really even need to elaborate here? Come on.
SYLVANAS WINDRUNNER
200,000 to 1
You know, she would actually be a pretty strong candidate – to her credit, she IS intelligent, charismatic, and competent – if she didn’t creep the living FUCK out of everyone. Not to mention make you worry that she might then replace that aforementioned living fuck with some kind of weird-ass UNDEAD fuck under her control.
BAINE BLOODHOOF
150,000 to 1
He’s a great warrior, he takes good care of his people, and you can practically see Cairne when you look in his eyes (not that that makes me at all awkward, no sir). He’s also freaking Vol’jin Lite what with the bitching and the moaning and the OMG Garrosh how could you. Because if there’s one thing you don’t want to stand for, it’s actually GOING TO WAR with the people you are ALLEGEDLY AT WAR WITH. Last thing the Horde needs is a fucking carebear in charge. And Thrall me no Thralls – Guy Smiley sat on his hands way too much too.
THE “I BET YOU DIDN’T THINK I KNEW ABOUT THIS MEME” DIVISION
A BASIC CAMPFIRE
5000 to 1
HAHA SEE I BET YOU ASSHOLES DIDN’T THINK I HAD A SENSE OF HUMOR ABOUT THAT SHIT.
THE “DIDN’T YOU RETIRE LIKE TWENTY YEARS AGO” DIVISION
DREK’THAR
500 to 1
Chieftain of the Frostwolf clan and friend to Durotan way back in the day. Lived through the corruption of the orcs, but refused to drink the blood of Mannoroth – granted it was largely because Durotan ordered the Frostwolves not to, but it still shows a certain level of principle AND loyalty to his clan all at the same time. Greatmother speaks about him just fondly enough to make me feel uncomfortable. The main down side, other than being blind and spending most of his time getting rolled around in a wheelchair by Captain Galvanger these days, is that since the Cataclysm…well…not to be mean, but let’s face it. Dude has just gone batshit senile. And that’s not even getting into the whole thing with him shitting himself. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. Old age is not kind.
EITRIGG
200 to 1
He’s been around for ages, advised both me and Thrall, has watched over Orgrimmar while I’ve been down here in Pandaria, and has always been staunchly devoted to the well-being of the Horde. If we had some kind of lifetime achievement award to dole out, I would sign him up for it tomorrow, even if he DID get a little grumbly with me over the Theramore thing. Who didn’t, right? Shows what those fuckers know. Anyway. The point is, though, as much as I like Eitrigg, he’s pretty much one of those guys who’s basically a permanent lieutenant. You know the ones. Year after year, they’re always second in command to one general after another, and somewhere along the line, after like the fourth guy gets promoted over them to take command, you realize there’s a reason for it. Perfectly good at his job, but he’s just never going to be suited for the big chair.
Also, if he were in charge, can you IMAGINE how much time freaking Tirion would probably be spending in Orgrimmar? Do you really want to subject people to THAT?
VAROK SAURFANG
100 to 1
Veteran of two wars. Served as Thrall’s right hand and as my executive officer in Northrend. He even served as acting Warchief for a little while, that time when I was off the grid. At the age of nine zillion, he’s still one of the biggest badasses around. He doesn’t sleep – he waits. Death once had a near-Saurfang experience. Mannoroth became more powerful by drinking HIS blood. There was going to be a street named after him in Orgrimmar, but the plan was canceled for safety reasons because nobody crosses Saurfang and lives. When warlocks make someone run away in fear, they pay a royalty to him. He’s considered an honorary shaman because he commands the element of surprise. I’m at least 50% sure some of these facts are made up. But you get the point.
So what’s the case against? You mean, other than at least two or three occasions that he’s threatened to kill me? You mean OTHER THAN THAT? Frankly, he’s a holdover from a Horde that’s a thing of the past – too old, too sentimental, too backward-thinking when we’re trying to move our people forward. Too willing to extend an olive branch to the Alliance when we need to be smashing them over the head with the whole fucking tree.
Mostly the threatening-to-kill-me thing, though. I don’t want to tempt fate. (Along similar lines, by the way, fate doesn’t want to tempt Saurfang.)
THE “I MIGHT ACTUALLY CONSIDER PICKING ONE OF YOU PEOPLE” DIVISION
WARLORD CROMUSH
50 to 1
This one is a dark horse candidate, no question. But the dude did yeoman’s work in Gilneas when he had the thankless job of keeping Sylvanas marginally under control, he’s run a tight ship in Hillsbrad at a time when the Horde finally secured a firm hold on the region, and he’s been our primary command officer in the Eastern Kingdoms going on a couple years now. The fact that he’s been able to work with the Forsaken with some measure of success is a major plus – yeah, they’re creepy and sketchy and just plain ol’ EEEESH, but they’re handy to have around. He probably needs some more grooming for higher things, but he’s worked his way into the conversation for future high-profile assignments.
MALKOROK
25 to 1
You know, Malkorok really has most of the bases covered: he’s smart, uncompromising, and relentlessly devoted to the Horde, with a sharp tactical mind and an indisputable ability to get shit done. He’s reshaped the Kor’kron, tightened up security, and demonstrated he’s one of the people you want fighting beside you on the battlefield.
Down side? Well, let me put it this way.
About a year ago, some goblins tried to start up a business making wyvern food. They did all kinds of tests to find a good formula for it as far as ingredients, they did focus groups to give it the most appealing packaging, they launched a huge advertising campaign for it and made sure it was easy to find at all the vendors…and absolutely nobody bought it. How come? Because for all the things they had going for them and all the effort they put into packaging it just right…wyverns just didn’t like it.
Draw your own conclusions.
GENERAL NAZGRIM
10 to 1
You all know this guy, and have probably worked with him on at least an occasion or two. And really, if being Warchief was purely a military matter, this would probably be the guy. He’s an excellent strategist and tactician, he adapts well on the fly, and since he came up through the ranks the old-fashioned way (I remember him serving under me in Northrend as a piddly-ass sergeant…and to put that in perspective, remember, freaking DONTRAG made sergeant), he appreciates what it’s like to be one of the grunts in the trenches and isn’t afraid to get in there and get his hands dirty by their side. Okay, there was that whole disaster where he shit the bed on security and let Anduin get away, but maybe he can delegate. But here’s the thing: being Warchief isn’t solely a military job. It’s also the political head of the Horde, which means that as Warchief, Nazgrim would essentially be steering the ship of state. And, well…we all know what happens when that guy gets near a ship.
WARLORD ZAELA
5 to 1
Leader of the Dragonmaw and a no-kidding-around badass warrior. She took command of the Dragonmaw clan after helping to overthrow the nutjob “Warchief” Mor’ghor – gotta admire someone who has the stones to take down a corrupted leader for the good of the clan. She was new to leadership at the time, and I’ll admit I was probably a little tough on her in my assessments early on, but she’s really grown into the role, and she’s been stepping up to work on some more projects for me the last few months. I’ll also admit I might be swayed by seeing how she went about her business in that other world. Still a little green, though…I mean, green in the “inexperienced” sense. Not green in the fel-magic-drinky-drinky-demon-blood-grr-rarr-proud-ancient-culture-down-the-drain-oops sense. Was that insensitive? Anyway, she could probably stand to have a few more years working closely under the Warchief before she’s in line for the job herself. But she’s definitely on the rise.
WARLORD BLOODHILT
2 to 1
Bet you didn’t see this one coming, did you? Just goes to show what an outside-the-box thinker your Warchief is. Hell, sometimes I’m so far outside the box that I don’t even know where the fuck the box is. What box, anyway? Fucking metaphors.
Anyhow, some of you might remember Bloodhilt from the southern Barrens, where he assumed command of our operations after former Warlord (and current zombie sous chef) Gar’dul managed to make a giant mess of things down there. Bloodhilt cleaned up Gar’dul’s fuck-ups, secured our position in the area, and made it possible for us to make our move on Theramore. Since then he’s made the trip with us to Pandaria, where he’s been commanding officer at Domination Point. Just a solid, stand-up officer who’s done nothing but impress from day one. Any way you cut it, you can get used to seeing his name cropping up, because he’s not going anywhere.
So, there’s your breakdown. On that note, I’m going to call it a day as far as answering the mail goes, but keep those letters coming and I’ll try to answer more of your questions as time allows. Since Spazzle’s form doohickey worked pretty well for this batch of e-mails, here it is again:
Monday mailbag
So, since Gurtash has been taking his damn time with the next set of doodles of what went down at Tian Monastery, I figured I’d take advantage of this break in the action to check on the mail. Let’s see what you peeps have for me this time…
After perusing some of your past mailbags, I’ve decided to go ahead and ask the question that I’m sure many people are wondering but no one seems willing to ask.
You do realize that Bob is really Vol’jin, right?
–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City
Okay, so, on the plus side: Thanks for writing, Tandeleina.
On the minus side: What are you, a frigging idiot?
First of all, okay, I know that that Bob jackass is always writing from the Echo Isles, and the Echo Isles are troll territory, but that doesn’t mean he’s Vol’jin. I mean, come on, sure the trolls are all weak and scrawny and stupid and lazy and pretty much useless, but you can’t assume because someone’s a troll that he must be Vol’jin. That’s just fucking racist.
Number two, even if the Echo Isles thing was enough to send up a red flag, a few weeks ago I got a letter from Bob, AFTER Vol’jin had been killed in the line of duty in Pandaria. So that should settle that.
But let’s say you’re really stubborn and paranoid, like those damn “the Cataclysm was an inside job” conspiracy people, and you’re still not convinced. Check this out. All of these letters I get for the mailbag are either hand-delivered standard-mail letters, or, mostly, e-mails. With the exception of his very first letter, all of Bob’s messages have been e-mails. Now, when I copy these letters, I don’t usually give out people’s e-mail addresses, because I figure most of my readers get enough creepy porn spam as it is (have you SEEN some of my Google hits?). But I see the addresses. You know what Bob’s is? Check this out: definitelynotvoljin@gmail.com.
So yeah. I bet you’re feeling pretty stupid now, aren’t you?
Regarding our esteemed Regent-Lord … well, some of us DID offer you the opportunity to replace him.
— A Concerned Citizen
Yeah, yeah, fine, ACC. Enough with the I-told-you-so’s. How was I supposed to know Regent-Lord Hair-Care was going to turn into this much of a willowy hemorrhoid? For like two years I didn’t even know he was there. Hell, I STILL can’t remember his actual fucking name half the time. Why do you think I give him so many nicknames? I mean, other than it being damn entertaining seeing what shade of purple he turns right before he throws a hissy fit over it.
Oh, speaking of which, after I wrote about ol’ Eyepatch a few days ago, his latest thing has been bitching and crying about the crack I made about…well…his eyepatch. I make one little joke about his loss of an eye and apparently it’s a big fucking deal, because (a) I may or may not have been the one who put his eye out while I was slapping him around a little while back (without the “may not” part), and (b) at the time I kept him around basically to tell him to STFU already rather than letting him run to a shaman to maybe get the eye patched up (OOPS I’M SO INSENSITIVE) fixed while they had the chance. I mean I’m pretty sure he was going to end up blinded in that eye anyway, but…I don’t know. Maybe they could have done something to make it less gross? Beats me. So yeah, fine, whatever, I didn’t save the eye that couldn’t see. My bad. Suck it up, Cyclops.
I hope you are doing well. Things have been a bit dull in Orgrimmar with you off claiming Pandaria for the glory of the Horde. I’ve taken up Earth Online to fill the time in the day when I normally would hang around outside Grommash Hold hoping for a glimpse of you. I even adopted a little white dog as my pet, although he’s something called a Bichon Frise, not a terrier like your Sawyer. His name is Sherpa.
What server are you on? Maybe I could come visit, or even join your guild? I bet Sawyer and Sherpa would have a good time playing together.
So would we.
Yours,
–Wega
You know what? I’ll be honest with you – I’m really torn here. I mean, on the one hand, I’m pretty sure I’ve already got enough crazy stalkerish women in my life without giving another one an invitation to come hang out in my guild. Also Wega’s not winning any bonus points for the whole “hanging around outside Grommash Hold watching for you” thing, because for real, people, is it just me or is anyone else picturing her writing this letter in a candlelit room that has a zillion pictures of me tacked up all over the walls? Because SHE WON’T BE IGNORED, GARROSH.
On the other hand, in a really weird, sick kind of way, I can’t help but feel like we could be looking at a real /popcorn situation if I were to toss Wega into the same guild chat with Garona. Dunno. I may have to think about this a little.
Anyhow, cute dog there, Wega. I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, please stop camping Grommash Hold. I’m not there now anyway, and I have it on good authority that you’re creeping Eitrigg the fuck out.
Recently, I had the opportunity to try Earth Online. I was intrigued by this amazing other world and the array of stories to follow. The toon I created is a cook for an American restaurant that I’m working to a world-class chef. However, trying to pass Gordon Ramsay’s Hell’s Kitchen dungeon has been a real pain in the…but I digress.
I discover in the game, Earth Online, what they call a movie theatre. When I clicked on it and paid the money they required, a wonderous cut scene occurred called The Avengers. It was amazing moment of entertainment about this colorful heroes saving Earth from an alien invasion.
Have you seen it? If not, you may want to.
There was one large hero that reminded me of you. One called Hulk. He is really big, angry, and likes to smash things.
Again, I digress.
The reason for my letter is to ask a simple question. If a movie were made of you, which Earth Online actor would you want to portray you?
Sincerely,
–Quelita, Tarren Mill
Thanks for writing, Quelita. I’ve talked about this before, but yeah, it really is impressive how much work they put into the game world, what with the cinematics and the readable in-game books and so on. It’s actually kind of scary how much time you can lose just checking that stuff out.
Before I get to your question, I’ve got to address one other thing you mentioned – the Hulk. Now, I haven’t seen The Avengers, and I’m not planning to, PRECISELY because of that character. Usually the people over at Genesis Entertainment do a real bang-up job putting together these cut scenes, but I seriously don’t know WHAT the fuck they were thinking putting in that Hulk character.
I mean, think about it. Here’s this guy who flies into a rage – or, a BLOOD HAZE, IF YOU WILL – and gets bigger, and stronger, and turns all crazy and aggressive and destructive, and HE TURNS GREEN.
Um. SERIOUSLY?
RACIST much? The FUCK, Genesis?
Okay, so that’s all I’m going to say about that.
Now for your question – which, I’ve got to say, is a pretty good question. I hadn’t really given much thought to who I would cast in a movie about me, not least of all because, let’s face it, nobody’s going to bring enough awesome to the table to do me justice, so I should probably just play myself, only we’re talking about an Earth Online cinematic, not real life, so I couldn’t actually do that, so there goes that idea. Fuck.
So okay, let’s break this down.
Obviously you’d want someone who would be physically believable as me – so we’re looking at somebody with a strong physique, who you could buy as a powerful, badass fighter. Bonus points if he can carry off the bald look. A track record as an ass-kicking hero type would be pretty important too.
Hmm. Okay, so this guy wouldn’t be TERRIBLE, but…I don’t know. I mean, fine, he was plenty strong when he was playing the Thing, but his build really isn’t so much powerful as it’s…just kind of big and lumpy. Plus, I’m not crazy about the language skills – maybe it was just the script he was stuck with, but honestly, I just don’t see EPIC VERSE coming from this guy.
Oh and speaking of the script? Both those Fantastic Four cinematics he was in pretty much sucked. Moving on.
Okay, this is a little better. Maybe not blowing you away with the big, powerful build, but he’s definitely got the action-hero street cred, and he can rock the bald thing in no uncertain terms. So that’s the up side.
Down side… Well, first of all, as much as he has the badass track record, dude is just old at this point. He’s supposed to be, what, 60 at this point? All the credit in the world for the stuff he’s been in up till now, but come on, nobody’s going to buy a 60-year-old as a don’t-fuck-with-me badass. (DO NOT TELL SAURFANG I SAID THAT.)
Still, I could maybe turn a blind eye (LOR’THE’MOTHERFUCKER APOLOGISTS: DRINK) to the age thing, but this guy has another strike against him: by and large, he tends to go the softspoken route with his characters. Sort of the strong but understated type. Which is fine, it totally works when he does it, but I don’t know if he can flip from that to go larger than life. You know, LIVING IN CAPTIAL LETTERS. I’d be a lot more comfortable with somebody I knew could really project and command the room and put some authority in his voice. Bonus points if he’s not afraid throw some strong language into the mix while he’s at it.
Okay, NOW we’re getting somewhere. Long track record as a no-fucking-around badass? Check. Looks good with no hair? Check. Volume dial on his voice goes to eleven? Check. “Fuck” is like “good morning” to him? Double and triple check. Believable laying down some epic badass dialogue? YOU WILL KNOW MY NAME IS CHECK. Experience with an awesomely kickass melee weapon? Check.
Granted he might be a little up there in years too, but whatever, I’m not going to get too hung up on that if everything else is lining up.
Okay, hang on, I already told you about the Saurfang thing. Hmm. You know, I’m starting to think this guy might have a little TOO much attitude. I’m not going to take any sassing from someone pretending to be me. Dude’s gotta remember who’s the original and who’s the economy pack here.
Okay, so let’s refine this to the really key components. Strong, powerful, don’t-fuck-with-me badass. Track record doing action. Commanding voice and a willingness to turn up the volume. Able to throw some words together and maybe even lay down a rhyme. Can carry off non-standard hair. And hey, while we’re at it, since he’ll have to wear Mannoroth’s tusks and some earrings like I do, it’d be good to know this is someone who can lug around some ornamentation and make it look cool.
Oh HELL yeah. Sold. Done. Check please. The end.
That’s going to do it for this time, but as always, keep those letters coming to garrosh1337@gmail.com. It’s great to hear from you guys, and answering your questions is always good times, so don’t just sit there like an asshole, write in to your Warchief now. I PITY THE FOOL THAT DOESN’T.
More soon.
Words from a Scribe
Hey, everyone. This is Mokvar guest posting for Garrosh. While the Warchief is traveling to Pandaria, Spazzle and I are going to be sharing blogging duties here. Even though I know I’ve written a lot of material that’s been posted in the form of transcripts, I’ll admit it feels a bit odd to be speaking to you directly like this. I suppose I’ll get used to it soon enough.
Since my premature brush with mortality last week, I’ve been resting at home mostly, although generally I think people have been acting a little overprotective – at least in terms of how much recovery time I need. It’s nice that they’re concerned, I suppose, but I don’t think anyone likes being treated like the orcish equivalent of a walking, breathing porcelain vase. Honestly, I’m a shaman, and before that I was a warlock. It was one death. We walk these things off.
I’m not going to write too much today, but I did have one item that I wanted to share. In his last post, Garrosh mentioned that Saurfang had paid him a visit after he’d sent a request to borrow the services of the High Overlord’s personal scribe. As it happens, since Saurfang did bring his scribe (Adelene Sunlace) with him, there was a record of the visit. I managed to get a copy from Adelene. (Scribe solidarity, yo!) (Okay, I won’t do that again.)
Here it is. Consider it a Winter Veil present. You’ll see why.
Scene: Grommash Hold, Orgrimmar
[HIGH OVERLORD VAROK SAURFANG enters, accompanied by scribe ADELENE SUNLACE. Awaiting them in the war room are WARCHIEF GARROSH HELLSCREAM, EITRIGG, and MALKOROK.]
GARROSH
Morning, Saurfang.
EITRIGG
Welcome back to Orgrimmar, High Overlord.
SAURFANG
Warchief. Eitrigg, a pleasure to see you again, as always.
GARROSH
I was surprised to hear you were coming down personally, Saurfang.
SAURFANG
As was I by your message, Warchief.
GARROSH
Well, yeah, nobody really saw the thing with Mokvar coming.
SAURFANG
No, Warchief, that’s not what I mean.
GARROSH
Huh. What then?
SAURFANG
It occurs to me that your message was the first I’ve heard from you since our last…disagreement. Curious that I would only now hear from the Warchief when he has need of a scribe.
GARROSH
Well, honestly, Saurfang, up until now there hasn’t been much reason for me to contact you.
SAURFANG
Indeed, Warchief? No need to coordinate with me for any Kor’kron operations here at home?
MALKOROK
Kor’kron operations are well under control, Overlord, and don’t need any further coordination from—
[Saurfang, without taking his gaze off of Garrosh, silences Malkorok with a raised hand in his direction.]
SAURFANG
Warchief? Who. Is this person. Who presumes to speak to me as if I require his input?
MALKOROK
I’ll have you know, old man, I—
[Saurfang cuts Malkorok off mid-sentence by grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground.]
SAURFANG
[Still not looking at Malkorok.]
Pardon me. I was talking about you, not to you.
[Tosses Malkorok awkwardly to the ground.]
Hush now, boy.
GARROSH
Saurfang, this is Malkorok, one of my advisors. He’s been taking over the hands-on management of the Kor’kron since you’ve been holding down the fort in Northrend.
SAURFANG
Has he now. Curious that I had asked about just such a development when last I came to speak with you, only to be assured it was preposterous.
[Stares at Garrosh for a moment.]
More curious still that I would only now be learning of this…reassignment of the Guard.
MALKOROK
My Kor’kron have been—
SAURFANG
[Shoots an icy glare at Malkorok.]
Your. Kor’kron?
[Looks back to Garrosh.]
Although I suppose they are “his” Kor’kron now; I noticed even on my way here several wearing the uniform whom I had no hand in training.
MALKOROK
The needs of the Horde now call for a new and better—
SAURFANG
Boy, I was training soldiers when you were not yet a glimmer in your mother’s eye or a regret in your father’s hung-over recollection, and I would advise you to bite your tongue while you still have it.
MALKOROK
I don’t have to stand for this insolence, old man! Mak’gor—
[Malkorok draws one of his axes and leaps at Saurfang; still staring down Garrosh, Saurfang intercepts Malkorok’s weapon hand at the wrist and twists it back with an audible crack. He releases Malkorok’s wrist, then immediately grabs him by the back of his head and slams him face-first to the floor.]
AAAAH!
SAURFANG
Then by all means, don’t stand.
GARROSH
Enough, Saurfang. The Kor’kron have been reassigned. You have your duties in Northrend. Tend to them, and we’ll tend to our work here in Orgrimmar.
SAURFANG
I’m curious, Warchief…
GARROSH
You’re curious about a lot of things today.
SAURFANG
Yes indeed.
[Glances down at Malkorok, then back to Garrosh.]
What hold does he have on you?
GARROSH
Excuse me?
SAURFANG
What influence has this…orc won, that he has swayed command of the Kor’kron to himself over me? That he has won your ear, over Eitrigg?
GARROSH
Malkorok understands, Saurfang. Understands the Horde as it is today, and what’s needed to secure its future. As opposed to…others, who dwell in the past.
SAURFANG
I remember our past. And I do not do so to dwell in it, Warchief, but to hold it at arm’s length, so as not to repeat it.
GARROSH
I heard this song and dance a dozen times over in Northrend, Saurfang.
SAURFANG
That only means you gave me a dozen occasions to repeat it, Warchief.
GARROSH
Well are we done now? Because I’m getting tired of listening to it.
SAURFANG
[Chuckles grimly.]
Listening. Yes, I think we are.
[Saurfang turns and walks toward the door. Just before reaching it, he stops and turns his head, not quite looking back over his shoulder.]
One last point of curiosity, Warchief. The mana bomb that was used in the attack on Theramore. How did you happen upon a power source for it?
GARROSH
I don’t think that’s any of your concern, Saurfang.
SAURFANG
Yes, I suppose such strategic matters need to be kept between the Warchief and the commander of the Kor’kron Guard.
[Starts to walk out the door.]
Be well, Eitrigg. Honor go with you.
GARROSH
Hey!
[Saurfang stops in the doorway.]
SAURFANG
Yes, Warchief?
GARROSH
So are you loaning me your scribe or not?
SAURFANG
[Sighs.]
Miss Sunlace, come along, please.
[Saurfang exits.]
GARROSH
Geez, is it me, or is he getting more ornery with old age?
MALKOROK
[Still sprawled out on the floor.]
He does seem a bit ill-tempered, yes sir.
And to all a good night.
“Don’t make me come over there again, Malcoldcock. I will keep them busy scraping you off the floor until the Lunar Festival.”
Last-minute housekeeping
A bunch of odds and ends to go over, because guess what, people — it’s finally go time. By the time you read this, I’ll be on my way to Pandaria. The voyage will take a few days provided the weather is cooperative, and then the Dominance Offensive will be under way. That’s the name I came up with for this operation, by the way. Pretty badass, huh?
We’ve got a pretty large fleet taking the trip, with another batch of ships that will be joining us from the Eastern Kingdoms — not only is Regent-Lord Ponytail sending a bunch of researchers from the Reliquary, not only is he assigning a pretty large contingent of Blood Knights and Farstriders (whatever the hell THOSE are) to join the force, but he’s even planning to take the trip himself to supervise his crew on whatever tasks I end up giving them.
I also decided that my group of trainees have been coming along so well that they’ve earned themselves a little field trip. This will give Gurtash and the rest of the DPS the chance to watch some of the big boys in action, continue their training with me, and maybe even take on a few small missions of their own, depending on what we run into down there.
Now to put a few things in order here at home before I take off. For one, as per everybody’s votes, I’ve recalled Krog from Pandaria to look into the attack on Mokvar. Malkorok hasn’t made much progress since he confirmed our mystery attackers were still running around loose, so I’m hoping a fresh set of eyes will be able to find some new leads. Plus the timing works out, what with Krog arriving to pick up the investigation right when Malkorok is leaving with me for Pandaria. Mokvar will still be under guard, and I’m looking into a few extra measures for his protection while I’m away.
Meanwhile, the search for a temporary scribe is still going on. Who knew it was so hard to find someone who can just write shit down, right? I guess I’ll just have to improvise with whoever I’ve got on hand when I get down there. I was hoping I could get Saurfang to lend me his scribe, like I mentioned last time, and I sent a messenger up to Warsong Hold with the request…but that didn’t end up going so well. Saurfang ended up dropping by to pay me a visit — scribe in tow, by the way — only he was just grumbly and cranky and all-around bad-mood-ish, and really I don’t know what’s been up his ass the last few months. But that led nowhere fast, so yeah.
As for my OLD scribe, you guys are in for a treat. Or really, more like a consolation prize. See, what with the imminent voyage to Pandaria, I’m going to be out of contact for a few days at least, and even when we get there, I don’t know what the internet situation is going to be, so I don’t know how much blogging I’m going to be able to do. So for the time being, I’m having Spazzle set both himself and Mokvar up so they can post on the blog while I’m away. I know a lot of you depend on the Command Board to bring some semblance of meaning to your empty, pedestrian lives, and I’m not so cruel and heartless that I’m willing to leave you hanging all rudderless while I’m busy taking care of shit that’s way more important than your plebeian ass. And I hope you felt it, because that was from the heart. I’ll be back to posting as soon as I’m able to, but hopefully in the meantime those two will manage to keep you sort of vaguely entertained.
I think that covers everything. That’s it for me for now — next stop, Krasarang Wilds!
Same as it ever was
I was groggy when I woke up, and even after I opened my eyes, it took a few minutes for my head to stop spinning. Finally my vision cleared up and I found myself sitting in a chair, sprawled forward over a table. There were papers under my face, and a few of them stuck to it courtesy of a small puddle of drool.
I straightened up in the chair, plucked the clingy pages from my cheek, and looked around the room. It was the admiral’s quarters in Northwatch Hold, the room I’ve been using the last few days of our stay here. The drool-smeared papers in my hand, and others spread around the table, were covered with maps of Theramore, lists of troop assignments, armament logistics, the crew manifesto of a goblin air galleon.
I ran my hands over the table to make sure it was really there. And then my uneasy brain went looking for hallucination in the next most likely place.
Had I imagined it? The other world, the demons, the Scourge, the fall of Orgrimmar…everything…could it have just been a dream? It seemed so real, the memories were so vivid…but…
I stood up, gathered more of the papers from the table, and started paging through them — not even reading anything on them, really, just wanting something I could feel in my hands. As I held the documents over the tabletop and looked at all the words without ever reading any of them, my arm brushed another paper, this one creased and folded, jutting out of my belt.
The military documents spilled around the floor as I grabbed the folded paper and rushed to unfold it. It was worn and stained with what looked like blood, just a torn-off scrap, not even half a page. Scrawled across it was the familiar handwriting of the Master Apothecary of Sylvanas’ Royal Society. Or the man who would become him.
They’re going to turn against you. Don’t let them.
He really, REALLY never listened. It’s like some weird matter of principle with him. I don’t even know if he was really trying to help, offering some begrudging, misguided gesture in parting…or if this was his way of giving me one last middle finger for the things I’d forced him to do. I don’t know if I could hold either against him.
But that sealed it. It all happened. Except that it didn’t, now.
It worked. We did it. We saved the world. It all happened, just the way I remembered it, just the way it was supposed to.
I walked over to the tower window. I needed some air to clear my head. I leaned out and looked across the Barrens. I could see Horde banners below, and a squad of Kor’kron wyvern riders circling past as they patrolled the area. And as I looked off into the distance, staring at the horizon more than anything, I started to make out wisps of smoke, faint black tendrils reaching up to the sky from old, spiteful fires that refused to go out completely, even after all this time.
Taurajo.
I turned from the window and stepped back into the room.
And then I grabbed one of the chairs arranged around the table and threw it against the wall. The chair broke into pieces. I ran over and grabbed them up, one after another, breaking them into smaller pieces and smashing them against the wall again. And then a second chair. And a third. Screaming with each one — AT each one.
I threw them around the room until the chairs were pieces and the pieces were splinters, smashing them against the walls and the floor and each other as if by breaking them enough I could force back the thoughts I couldn’t help thinking.
I ran across the room to a bookcase that stood against one wall and sent it toppling. Books spilled around the floor. I lunged down, hunched over, grabbed them by the fistful and hurled them against the walls. Watched them clatter back to the floor. It didn’t help. I grabbed up more of them, pulling them open, ripping them apart at the spines, flinging loose pages around until they fluttered uselessly down around me.
Fluttered like shimmering white wings.
I pounced back on the broken bookcase, yanked out one shelf, flung it across the room. It clattered to the floor. It didn’t break. I wrenched out a second shelf and threw it against the door, leaving a deep gash in the wood. That one didn’t break, either. Somehow that only made me angrier, sent me into a rage at its stubbornness, its stupid defiance, refusing to snap. How DARE it — how dare ANYTHING — and I ran to the door, grabbed up the fallen shelf, and beat it against the wall until it splintered.
It didn’t help. It wasn’t enough.
The door to the room opened and Malkorok leaned in. I only heard bits and pieces of whatever he said — something about the noise, and my yelling, and if I was all right. I spun on him, struck him across the face, then threw him back out of the room and down the stairs before slamming the door, rattling it on its hinges.
Today is not the day to ask me if I’m all right.
I grabbed one of the broken chair pieces and jammed the door shut. I wasn’t in any mood for interruptions, least of all from the likes of him.
The admiral’s bed — flung over, frame snapped, mattress torn open. Feathers floating through the air and scattering around the room. The nightstand next to the bed — lifted over my head and slammed down onto the floor, shattered awkwardly into pieces. Its single drawer split off awkwardly and spilled letters and trinkets across the floor. Part of it splintered off as I swung the nightstand down onto the floor and stabbed into my forearm. I barely felt it. I didn’t even notice until a spattering of blood started to dribble onto the letters and papers strewn around the floor.
It still wasn’t enough. It might never be enough.
Go be a hero, he told me. Go save the world. I did. We won. And all I had to do was kill him. All I had to do was burn Taurajo. All I had to do was become the final secret conspirator against our people in time of war, once upon a time. All I had to do was save traitors, destroy families, forsake all honor in the face of a battle too dire to be won any other way.
I don’t know how long I can stand to live in this world if these are the choices I have to make to save it.
I was racing around the room in circles, kicking at anything in reach, clawing pictures down off the walls. Only really half seeing what was around me, just grabbing anything I could, then throwing it or stomping it underfoot or breaking it over one knee. At some point I found myself spinning in place, roaring madly at nothing, and then threw myself at the table, beating it with both fists, pounding over and over until the wood buckled and the beams split and it all came crashing down and still there I was among the pieces on the floor.
I pulled myself up and looked around the ruins of the room, choking down air in gasps.
This room isn’t big enough. It isn’t big enough. Nothing in it is big enough.
I need something bigger.
We march tomorrow. Theramore burns.
[Wrathgate (wide shot) image provided by Angelya from Revive and Rejuvenate. Professor Putricide, Putress, and Cairne Bloodhoof (living) images provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click the links in this sentence to see the souped-up Postcard versions! All images used here with permission and many thanks.]
Wrath of the Lich King
Show time.
The group assembled today on the Windrunner: me, both Saurfangs, Liadrin, Edwin, Jaina, Mokvar, Dontrag, and Utvoch. I figured the way the Scourge have swarmed through practically all of Northrend, I’d just as soon not leave anything to chance, which is why we brought so much heavy-artillery personnel. Drok and his crew had the ship ready to go, and we set off for the Nexus in Coldarra. Once we had the Focusing Iris, we’d head straight for Dalaran, where Jaina’s Kirin Tor friends would be ready to port us straight to the Caverns of Time.
We arrived at the Nexus and docked the ship on one of the upper ring platforms that was equipped with a teleportation orb. One problem: the platform was swarming with Scourge – all the platforms were. Vargul and skeletons mostly, with a couple necromancer types lurking around the back.
I’ll tell you, Mokvar was right the other day. This really wasn’t fair.
Between me whirlwinding through skeletons by the bushel, Liadrin Diving Storming her way right through the heart of them, Jaina flame-roasting undead in bunches, and – yup – Saurfangs Young and Old cleaving down everything in sight, it didn’t take us long to clear a path to the teleportation orb. The only down side was that those necromancers kept summoning more undead, and every so often a proto-drake would fly by and drop another damn vrykul to help keep the influx coming.
GARROSH: They’re not getting anywhere, but neither are we if we just stay up here all day killing these fuckers…
The necromancers cast another summoning spell, and some hundred new skeletons appear on the platform.
LIADRIN: <slashing by one of the vargul> We don’t all need to be up here – you go, I’ll stay and protect the ship.
GARROSH: You sure? There’s still an awful lot of them.
Liadrin rushes into a cluster of vargul, dropping them all with another spinning Divine Storm. As she finishes her follow-through, she lands on one knee, slamming the Ashbringer down onto the platform floor; a shimmering flash of yellow-white light bursts from the Ashbringer and shoots out in a horizontal shockwave in all directions. The light rips through the skeletons and sends them spilling onto the floor, burning with holy fire. Still on one knee, Liadrin tilts her head up at Garrosh.
LIADRIN: I’m not worried.
Jaina runs to a clear area near the gunship and starts channeling a spell. A glowing blue runic circle begins to appear on the floor beneath her.
JAINA: ’m placing a portal marker here. Once we have the Focusing Iris, I’ll be able to teleport us directly back.
Several more vargul drop onto the platform. While Liadrin engages them, several val’kyr and gargoyles descend down over the Windrunner.
SAURFANG: <rushing back to the gunship and cleaving through gargoyles> I’ll stay back as well to help guard the ship.
MOKVAR: Well now you’re just running up the score on them.
SAURFANG: The rest of you – go!
DRANOSH: You all heard the man. Let’s get moving.
We took the teleportation orb into the Nexus. The sight that greeted us froze us all in our tracks. Around the circular room and down every hall, the ground was littered with the lifeless bodies of blue dragons. We all just stared for a minute while the sight sunk in. I think it hit Jaina the hardest, what with her probably having had some dealings with the blues over the years. She knelt down over one of the dead dragons and put a hand over its face.
JAINA: This… I know her. This is… Her name is…was Kirygosa. She was a daughter of Malygos…
UTVOCH: Wait, when you said there were going to be a lot of dragons here, I thought you meant they were going to be alive.
GARROSH: …Seriously?
FARANELL: That’s got to be an act, right? I mean he can’t possibly really be that stupid.
MOKVAR: Dontrag and Utvoch: raising the bar on lowering the bar, since the dawn of time.
DONTRAG: Hey, I didn’t say anything!
GARROSH: Yet.
DRANOSH: <surveying the halls> Most of the… <glances back at Jaina, then lowers his voice slightly> …most of the blood seems fresh. Whoever did this did it fairly recently.
GARROSH: Probably still nearby.
Jaina stands slowly, still looking down at the bodies.
JAINA: Kalecgos considered her one of his dearest friends…
DRANOSH: The next time you see him, you can tell him all about the world of pain we brought down on the ones who did this to her.
GARROSH: It has to be the Scourge, based on upstairs. Not sure why they’d be coming after the blue dragons, though.
JAINA: At this point, they’re one of the only major powers left between them and all of Northrend… It was only a matter of time before they struck here.
GARROSH: That’s the thing, though – yeah, they have the Horde and Alliance on the ropes, but why wouldn’t they finish them off first, THEN take on the dragons? The Lich King has to know he’s got the upper hand. Why divide his efforts?
DRANOSH: Maybe he wants to finish both off quickly?
GARROSH: All the time we were up here fighting him, did you ever know Arthas to be impatient?
JAINA: He’s not. Anymore.
DRANOSH: <shrugs> Either way. I am the impatient type – let’s go find that Focusing Iris and let it be finished.
We made our way deeper into the Nexus, finding more slain dragons all the way. As we worked our way down a long, descending passageway, we could hear sounds of combat, and reptilian cries of pain. I ordered Dontrag and Utvoch to make sure they kept Edwin safe under pain of so-much-worse-than-death-your-admittedly-limited-brains-would-melt-just-trying-to-imagine-it. The bottom of the passage was dark and filled with shadows. As the floor leveled out from the end of our descent, we turned a corner and came to a doorway.
The room was large and circular, with crystalline patterns in the walls and floor, like so many of the other rooms here. In the center of the room, hovering in the air of its own accord, was the Focusing Iris – an enormous blue orb, glowing with arcane power. On the far side of the room, four humanoids – a human, a tauren, and a pair of dwarves – all wearing armor like that of a death knight, stood over bodies of blue dragons. More bodies filled the room, and the air reeked with the smell of draconic blood. Two more death knights, a draenei and a troll, flanked the doorway on either side, and as we came around the corner they called out a warning.
And as the sentries cried out, in the center of the room, out from behind the Focusing Iris stepped Tirion Fordring. Covered in spiked black armor, wielding a runeblade, eyes glowing a deathly pale blue. I’ll tell you, I was never crazy about Tirion, but this was still horrible to see. Even Tirion deserved better than this.
TIRION: <grinning broadly> Ah, how serendipitous! It appears fate has set us all upon a parallel venture, and I find myself reunited with personages of no small familiarity. I greet you all, good orcs and humans, and welcome you to the curtain’s rise on the final act of this grand endeavor!
GARROSH: By the spirits…
Tirion gestures to his minions.
DRANOSH: What?
Tirion’s Deathbringers rush at the group, blades poised.
GARROSH: He still loves to talk.
Jaina casts a Cone of Cold that slows the death knights’ approach.
DRANOSH: <shrugs> Time to do what we do. Lok’tar!
GARROSH: For the Horde!
DONTRAG and UTVOCH: For the Horde!
MOKVAR: For the Horde!
JAINA: Um, actually…
Jaina exchanges a shrug with Faranell.
Okay. Whatever.
Garrosh, Dranosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch rush forward to engage the Deathbringers, and the two groups battle back and forth, with Tirion lurking by the Focusing Iris, watching and taunting.
TIRION: Good, my glorious vassals, unleash your fury and show these intruders the fate that awaits those who would interfere with the work of our dread lord the Lich King! Woe be to any who stand against us! Their ruined bodies shall be the latest paving the way to our inevitable dominion over this world!
GARROSH: <exchanging blows with the tauren> The hell are you even HERE for, Tirion? What do you fuckers even want with the Focusing Iris?
TIRION: Well could I ask you the same, young Hellscream! But as it will profit you naught, I will tell you, so that you might meet your end knowing the full scope of your failure, and indeed the hand you and your ilk have had in bringing forth this very hour!
DRANOSH: <aside> That’s it, get him monologuing…
GARROSH: <aside> He’s going to be monologuing anyway, might as well get him going on something useful maybe…
Dranosh and Garrosh continue pushing back the tauren and human. Dontrag and Utvoch spar with the two dwarves, aided by chain lightning from Mokvar, while Jaina launches a seething fireball that incinerates the troll.
TIRION: Did you truly believe your ill-fated ploy to deny the Lich King your precious Sunwell would go unanswered? That the master of the Scourge would be halted by your sad, trifling magician’s tricks? You merely delayed the inevitable; and now, with the Focusing Iris in hand, the Lich King’s mightiest seers will shatter the meddlesome bubble conjured by that poor, doomed, suddenly so very solitary dragon Kalecgos—
Jaina lets loose another pair of fireballs, finishing the dwarven death knights fighting Dontrag and Utvoch.
JAINA: Kalcgos’ flight had no part in this war, Tirion! The old you – the real you – he would be sickened to see what you’ve done to these innocents!
TIRION: Oh, Lady Proudmoore, do not be so naïve as to think the blues innocent – or yourself. It was Kalecgos who chose to throw in his lot with your kind and aid in your foolish charade at the Sunwell, and all of you who interfered in the Scourge’s march. The Lich King was content to leave these pitiable lizards be – for now. It was you who forced his hand, you who altered his plans, you who made the Focusing Iris a necessary implement—
DRANOSH: Spirits, he likes to talk…
GARROSH: Dude, you have NO IDEA.
TIRION: —and you, all of you, who helped bring this fate upon the Blue Dragonflight today! From their blood shall flow the coming of a new age for this world! From their deaths shall be forged a new future, bathed in carnage!
JAINA: <gathering a fiery glow in her hands> You want carnage? Arthas will have more blood than he ever bargained for!
Jaina unleashes a massive fireball that tears through the draenei death knight and badly burns the tauren and human – whom Dranosh and Garrosh quickly finish off – and hurls Tirion back against the far wall.
DRANOSH: Remind me not to piss her off.
GARROSH: No shit, right?
Tirion pulls himself up and faces the group.
TIRION: You all shall pay dearly for—
DRANOSH: <charging in and knocking Tirion a few steps back> Pro tip, Tirion – when your boys are taking it on the chin, might be a good idea to stop running your mouth for a minute and help them out.
Garrosh joins in, and Tirion begins scrambling to deflect both orcs’ blows.
TIRION: You think I fear you, boy? Through the Lich King I have seen power the likes of which you cannot comprehend! By his will I have cast off death itself, and risen anew, ascended, greater than I might ever have dreamed in my former, paltry, limited existence! You do not know what you trifle with, you—
As Dranosh and Garrosh unleash a flurry of blows from both sides, Jaina singes Tirion with a surge of flame, then freezes him in place with a frost nova, throwing off his footing.
GARROSH: Tirion…
Garrosh locks one of his axes in a parry with Tirion, then drops his second axe from his free hand and swings his fist under the runeblade and into Tirion’s gut.
Shut.
Garrosh breaks the parry, forcing Tirion’s blade hand to swing to one side, where Dranosh hacks it away at the wrist.
The fuck.
Garrosh and Dranosh bring their axes down from either side, slamming viciously into the base of Tirion’s neck.
UP!
Tirion slumps lifeless to the floor.
JAINA: <looking down sadly at the body> You have been missed, old friend. May your spirit finally find its rest now.
MOKVAR: Okay, let’s get what we came for and go.
JAINA: Let me get it into a more manageable form…
Jaina holds her hands out to the Focusing Iris and begins channeling beams of arcane magic into it. Slowly, the Focusing Iris shrinks until it has been reduced to a shimmering blue sphere about a foot in diameter, hovering in the air.
There…now we just need to—
Jaina is interrupted by a shadowy, purple tendril of magic that lashes out at her from the doorway and yanks her back toward it. Her body flies backward through the air and – with a hideous slicing sound – into a blade held out from the dark hallway:
Frostmourne.
As Dranosh steps in to catch the falling Focusing Iris, the Lich King strides into the room, Jaina’s body still impaled on the runebalde.
LICH KING: Impressive…
The Lich King shakes Frostmourne, dropping Jaina’s body to the ground.
Most impressive.
UTVOCH: Okay, this isn’t so bad, there’s just one of him against all of us…
The Lich King drives Frostmourne’s blade into the floor, releasing a shockwave that knocks the group back against the far wall of the room. As they recover, the Lich King hold Frostmourne aloft and begins channeling a spell.
LICH KING: Now then…a further test…
Crackling purple energy shoots out of Frostmourne in all directions. Slowly, the dozens of dragon corpses around the room begin to rise, eyes glowing a dull blue, bodies withered and gaunt.
GARROSH: Oh…shit…
DONTRAG: You really have to keep your mouth shut, Ut.
The nearest few reanimated dragons rush at them. Garrosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch step in to intercept them and start to fight them back, with Mokvar and Faranell casting spells at them from behind.
The Lich King continues channeling. After a few seconds, Jaina’s body rises from the floor; her hair has turned white save for a single blonde streak, and her eyes shimmer with a lifeless blue glow. She looks around the room, then faces the Lich King.
JAINA: A-Arthas…?
LICH KING: I have missed you…my Queen.
Jaina grins hideously, turns, and unleashes an enormous fireball that incinerates two of the dragons on its way toward Faranell.
DONTRAG: Doc!
UTVOCH: Look out!
Dontrag lunges at Faranell while Utvoch rushes in from the opposite side. Dontrag shoves Faranell out of the fireball’s path, just before the flames reduce both him and Utvoch to smoldering heaps of ash.
DRANOSH: Edwin! Jaina was our ride out. That’s your job now – port us out of here, and fast!
FARANELL: But— I’m not that powerful a mage!
Dranosh shoves the Focusing Iris into Faranell’s hands; a bluish white glow shimmers over his body.
DRANOSH: You are now. Fire it up!
Garrosh and Mokvar – both fighting dragons – back up toward Dranosh and Faranell. Faranell closes his eyes, mutters an incantation, and teleports the group away in a blinding flash.
We reappeared up on the ring platform where we’d docked – a few yards off from Jaina’s targeting rune, but hey, I’m not going to nitpick over a clutch save from Edwin. When we appeared, we were greeted by the sight of an enormous pile of Scourge corpses that formed a hill leading up to the Windrunner. Dozens of vargul, hundreds of ghouls and skeletons, val’kyr, geists, a couple frost wyrms…and sitting on top of the pile were Liadrin and Saurfang, taking turns drinking from a waterskin.
LIADRIN: <looks up at them> What kept you?
DRANOSH: We had guests.
GARROSH: Come on, everyone get on the ship.
SAURFANG: Where are the others? Lady Proudmoore, and the…cerebrally inexpansive duo?
GARROSH: They didn’t make it.
SAURFANG: What happened?
DRANOSH: Arthas is here.
LIADRIN: By the Light… Get on board, and quickly!
GARROSH: What happened to you not being worried?
LIADRIN: I wasn’t.
DRANOSH: Fire it up, Captain! Top speed to Dalaran!
The group boards the Windrunner, which disembarks from the platform. After a moment, the ship shakes and creaks, then begins to slide slowly backwards.
DRANOSH: Um, Drok? I don’t think I said anything about reverse.
DROK: We’re still on full ahead, sir, I don’t—
GARROSH: Uh, I think you guys might want to have a look at this…
They turn to look back at the ring platform, where the Lich King now stands, channeling a dark purple band of energy from his hand that grips the gunship, and using it to slowly tug the ship back toward the Nexus.
MOKVAR: He’s— he’s death-gripping the ship! How is he death-gripping the whole ship?!
DRANOSH: Drok, this would be a good time to give the engines a little extra – we’ve got to get out of here!
DROK: I’m giving them everything she’s got, sir! I can’t change the laws of physics!
Saurfang stands at the railing, watching as the Lich King slowly drags the gunship back toward him. Saurfang looks back at Dranosh, then to Garrosh.
SAURFANG: He’s looked out for you since you were children.
Garrosh gives a quizzical look, then nods.
Look out for him now.
Saurfang turns and launches himself off the deck, toward the platform below.
FOR THE HORDE!
Saurfang barrels into the Lich King and they both crash onto the floor. With the Lich King’s death grip broken, the gunship lurches forward again and starts to pull away from the Nexus.
DRANOSH: Father! No!
Garrosh intercepts Dranosh as he rushes to the edge of the ship and pulls him back.
GARROSH: Get us OUT of here, Captain!
DRANOSH: <spinning back toward Drok, still in Garrosh’s grip> No! Turn us around, Drok, we have to—
Garrosh spins Dranosh back to face him.
GARROSH: You know what he’s doing! DON’T LET IT BE FOR NOTHING!
Dranosh stops struggling. Garrosh releases him, and as the gunship continues its escape, he walks to the railing and looks down at the platform, where the Lich King knocks Saurfang away from him.
LICH KING: Foolish old orc! You dare stand against me? Do you know how many of your kind I’ve slain?
SAURFANG: You…murdered…children. <draws his axe> You answer to Saurfang now!
Saurfang charges the Lich King furiously, cleaving and slashing with his axe. The Lich King parries with Frostmourne, and the two grapple back and forth as the platform shrinks from view.
I’m writing from the Windrunner now. We should reach Dalaran soon. I’ll update again when I can, if the news is good. If it isn’t, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here to keep updating.
In the meantime, we continue on our way to Dalaran.
In silence.
[Header image of the Nexus provided by regular reader and commenter ZugZug. Gunship image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click here to see the souped-up Postcard version! Both images used with permission and many thanks.]
Days of future past
The trip from Kalimdor to Northrend isn’t exactly a short one, but normally it’s never really felt long to me. This time, though, it felt like it took forever. A short way into the flight, I took Edwin down below deck to talk to him alone and laid out the story for him – how his other self had managed to mess up the timelines, and how that’s led to everything being a disaster in this world. The worst part is that he barely responded to any of it. Just sat there, listening, staring at the floor most of the way though.
I was expecting him to get angry or argue with me or something when I told him what we needed to do, but he didn’t say a word. Just sat there, almost-but-not-quite nodded…I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. It’s an awful lot to get dropped on you all at once, and then that’s without it even being YOU that’s responsible, in a way at least. And without it being your BROTHER whose meant-to-happen death is the lynchpin to the whole damn thing.
Liadrin was there to greet us at the Argent Vanguard. The place was much more heavily fortified than the last time I’d been there. Over the last several months, Horde and Alliance forces had been pushed back from the Borean Tundra and Dragonblight, and so now most of the combined troops have been consolidated here. The base was expanded and reinforced, with more buildings, ramparts, a keep for the command base, a docking tower for airships…really impressive, actually, until you stop to think what made it necessary.
When we arrived, the base was in the middle of fending off an attack by Nerubian tunnelers. Nothing to worry too much about, according to Liadrin – these Nerubians crop up every so often and are more of a nuisance than anything. Fitting enough for a big ol’ batch of cockroaches.
From the docking tower, we could see Saurfang and Bolvar leading some of the troops around and beating the bugs back. While Drok and his crew tended to the Windrunner, a couple of Liadrin’s aides took Jaina, Faranell, Dontrag, and Utvoch down to their temporary quarters to get settled. The rest of us stood on the docking platform, watching the skirmish below.
DRANOSH: Definitely not enough of them to really get anywhere. Why even bother?
LIADRIN: To be a disturbance, most likely.
GARROSH: Why waste soldiers – or, well, bugs – just to annoy your enemy?
LIADRIN: Think of it from the Lich King’s perspective You have an effectively unlimited supply of minions. They don’t need to eat or sleep or rest. You enemy does. Why wouldn’t you use some of those minions to disrupt your enemies’ sleep and stop them ever settling in for a meal in comfort?
GARROSH: You know, when you put it like that, it’s actually kind of creepy smart.
DRANOSH: I think I’m going to go down and give the good guys a hand. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the winning side of a fight. <smirks at Garrosh and gestures toward Saurfang below> Besides, can’t let the old man get too big a lead on me. You want in?
GARROSH: Go ahead. I’m going to stay up here and get caught up with Liadrin.
DRANOSH: Up to you.
Dranosh leaps down from the docking tower. Liadrin and Mokvar move to either side of Garrosh. They continue to watch Dranosh while they talk.
LIADRIN: Have you told him?
GARROSH: No.
MOKVAR: Are you going to?
GARROSH: <pauses for a long moment> If I did, do you think there’s any chance at all that he would turn back?
MOKVAR: <shakes head> No.
GARROSH: Then let him go to the end not having to know who killed him.
We watched the battle for a while – Mokvar and I filling in some of the extra details on the Great Time FUBAR for Liadrin – until it finally wound down and the Argent troops returned to their stations. Liadrin and the others went into the keep to see about squeezing in a meal uninterrupted, but I wasn’t feeling very hungry, so I stayed outside and figured I’d take Mortimer out to stretch his wings some.
There was an orc soldier at the stables tending to another wyvern when I went to get Mortimer. We got to talking while I saddled Mortimer up. Guy name of Gar’lok. Turns out he was one of the soldiers at the Wrathgate. He asked a million questions about the demon attack on Orgrimmar, but above all he was worried about whether his kid had gotten out in time. Something told me not to ask, but I couldn’t help it. His kid was a boy. Named Gurtash. Of course. I wrapped the conversation up quickly and took Mortimer out.
We circled around the base a few times, then as we were flying over the keep, I spotted Mokvar and Edwin standing outside, looking over the base. I brought Mortimer down and joined them.
GARROSH: Everyone still inside?
MOKVAR: Back in their quarters now, mostly. Liadrin was going to meet with Bolvar. I think she’s going to have him take charge of the base while she’s away, once we’re ready to go.
GARROSH: What about Saurfang?
MOKVAR: I think he’s assuming he’s coming with us. Can’t blame him, really – how often does he get to go on a mission with his son?
GARROSH: This will be his last one, if we manage to pull this off.
MOKVAR: You know we will. Especially now. I mean, come on, bringing two Saurfangs? That’s not even fair.
GARROSH: Heh. Let’s hope. <looks to Faranell> You hanging in there okay, Doc? You’ve been pretty quiet.
Edwin stares silently into the mountains.
Doc?
Edwin continues staring wordlessly.
Edwin?
Edwin turns to face Garrosh, still not speaking.
Look, I know you’ve had an awful lot dropped on you today, so I can see why you might be having trouble wrapping your head around it all.
FARANELL: <looking down at the ground> I’m not doing it.
GARROSH: Um…
MOKVAR: Oh boy…
GARROSH: You WHAT?
FARANELL: I said I’m not doing it.
GARROSH: You understand this whole thing kind of HINGES on you, right?
FARANELL: Yes, I do. I also understand that if we do what you were talking about doing, it means Patrick is going to die. Hell, not even just die – what did you say? – he gets turned into some undead mastermind working for the Scourge? He doesn’t even get to rest in peace!
GARROSH: I know, I know, it’s wrong and it’s awful and it’s not fair, but it’s the only way to set things right in this world.
FARANELL: And who decides what’s “right,” Garrosh? You? I’ve heard people talking – here and in the future – and I don’t exactly get the sense that you have this great track record for deciding what’s “right.”
GARROSH: Edwin, this isn’t what was supposed to happen. Hell, you were in Orgrimmar – did you not see those demons overrunning the place?
FARANELL: You also said back in my time – where I came from – the Scourge was going to overrun Lordaeron. So if you’re so fired up to go change the past, why don’t we just go stop that from happening, too?
GARROSH: Because like it or not, the Scourge invasion was what was supposed to happen, it’s what ALWAYS happened—
FARANELL: It always happened to you, Garrosh! Why is it okay to fix your present and not mine?
GARROSH: Things only ever happened like this because the past got MESSED with, Edwin!
FARANELL: Your past! Not mine – these events you’re talking about that “had to happen” – they haven’t happened yet for me! They’re my future! Who the hell says Patrick wasn’t “supposed” to be alive?
GARROSH: He’s only alive because you – he – the OTHER you went back and mucked things up so he WOULD!
FARANELL: So what? Good! I’m glad he did!
GARROSH: Edwin, that’s exactly the kind of shit that an ENTIRE DRAGONFLIGHT devoted their lives to preventing!
FARANELL: Well—
GARROSH: You can’t go back and change the past just because you don’t like how it turned out!
FARANELL: I—
GARROSH: You see how things play out in the future so you decide you’re going to go back and prevent it? Nothing good can come out of that, Edwin, it—
FARANELL: Don’t go to Pandaria!
GARROSH: …
MOKVAR: Oh…crap.
GARROSH: Did…you not hear ANYTHING I was just saying?!
FARANELL: What, you don’t like a little tinkering with your future? I thought that’s what we did around here.
GARROSH: What happened with Patrick HAPPENED. And if we don’t set it right… Look, I get that you care about him, but look around. You’ve got to realize people are DYING because of this!
FARANELL: You’re asking me to kill my brother!
Garrosh punches Faranell, knocking him down. While Faranell gathers himself, Garrosh stands over him.
GARROSH: Listen to me carefully because I’m only going to say this once. I get that you’re scared. I get that you’re upset. You have a right to be. I am too. And if you want to be angry at me for laying all this on you, you want to hate me, you go ahead. <glares at Faranell a moment, collecting himself> But don’t you DARE stand there and talk to me like you’re the only one losing a brother.
FARANELL: <head hanging> It’s…it’s not right…
GARROSH: You’re right. It’s not. <looks around> There are a lot of things that aren’t right. <looks back to Faranell> I think you need to see some more of them.
I pulled him back up, brought him to the stables, and had the flight master set him up with a gryphon. Then we took off and flew a path around Icecrown – taking care more than once to steer clear of the frost wyrms that seemed to be in flight nearly everywhere.
We flew over Ymirheim, where legions of vrykul were marching, training, lining up in squads. We flew over the Shadow Vault, back in Scourge hands, where saronite from the Weeping Quarry was being used to build massive siege engines. We flew over the front gates of Icecrown Citadel, surrounded by thousands of flesh giants and colossal skeletons. One battalion after another of zombies and ghouls. Gargoyles enough to blacken the sky, until I got the bright idea that we maybe didn’t want to be flying around out there. On the way back to the Argent Vanguard, we flew over the Broken Front, where an army of Scourge was gathering and marching east, while frost wyrms circled over Scourgeholm.
We landed back at the base, on a hill where the Argent people had put up a large tent that served as a makeshift chapel. From where we stood, we could see the mountains beyond the Breach, and part of the field swarming with gathering undead.
GARROSH: This is what we’re facing. You know those Scourge I told you about, the ones that wiped out Lordaeron? They weren’t even a fraction of this. And they’re coming.
FARANELL: Patrick… Right now, Patrick is safe in Thunder Bluff.
GARROSH: Right. He’s safe in Thunder Bluff NOW. Before that he was safe in Hearthglen. And safe in Andorhal. How long before he runs out of places to be safe?
Faranell lowers his head quietly.
Liadrin’s people will fight to the last person to hold them back. I’ve got no doubt of that. But sooner or later, it WILL be the last person. And then all of this gets unleashed on the rest of the world.
FARANELL: I just don’t want him to die.
GARROSH: Doc, it doesn’t make me any happier to tell you this than it makes you to hear it. But Patrick is going to die. The only question is, how many others are you going to let die with him? How many would he LET you?
Faranell paces around for a moment, occasionally looking back toward the marching Scourge, then walks up to the entrance to the chapel tent. From inside, Argent Confessor Paletress steps to the opening to meet him.
FARANELL: You’re the confessor?
PALETRESS: <nods> I’m Argent Confessor Paletress. Do you need to unburden your spirit?
FARANELL: Yes, Confessor.
PALETRESS: Tell me what it is you’ve done, friend.
Faranell looks past the Breach as waves of Scourge gather, frost wyrms circling in the sky above them.
FARANELL: I couldn’t even begin to tell you what I’ve done, Confessor.
PALETRESS: I’m sure it’s not as bad as you believe. Guilt often weighs on us far more heavily than the true weight of our sins.
FARANELL: It doesn’t matter. What I’ve done isn’t what I’ve come to confess.
PALETRESS: What do you wish to tell me, then, my friend?
Faranell watches a frost wyrm tearing down the tower at Crusader’s Pinnacle in the distance. He looks down and rubs his hands over his face, then finally lifts his head, not quite returning his eyes to Paletress.
FARANELL: I’m going to kill my brother.
“The Light does not abandon its champions.” If only she knew.
The last Warchief
Dranosh kept staring down at the ruins of Orgrimmar as we circled high above the city. We were too far to hear anything other than the faintest sounds of the demons and undead, but the fires were unmistakable even from here.
I finally went over and stood next to him. He didn’t look away from the sight below. We stood there in silence for a few minutes.
DRANOSH: Do you remember the first time you saw Orgrimmar?
GARROSH: <nods> Thrall brought me, not that long after he came to Garadar.
DRANOSH: My father took me. He was so excited to show me the new home the orcs had built. So proud to introduce me around – every grunt, every merchant, everyone. I remember thinking how every last person in the city seemed to know him.
GARROSH: Well, he IS Saurfang.
DRANOSH: <nods, then pauses> Maybe Thrall should have chosen him. Or Cairne. Or…Vol’jin. <shrugs> Or you, for that matter.
GARROSH: I thought you said I’d be terrible at it.
DRANOSH: Have you looked down there? At what I’ve led us to? I don’t think you would have done much worse.
GARROSH: <staring down> This…this wasn’t your fault. You’ve been a good Warchief.
DRANOSH: Then why am I about to become the last one?
Remember when I said this timeline was the better one? Well, as long as time is getting screwed with anyway, let’s go back and erase that I’d ever said that. Orgrimmar was bad enough…but now Dranosh…
At least the Wrathgate killed him quickly. Not one little piece at a time.
We stood there silently for I’m not sure how long, until Dranosh finally turned around and gave Drok the order to set us on our way to Theramore. As we started to pull away, Dranosh took one more look down at the burning shell of Orgrimmar.
DRANOSH: I still don’t understand how this happened…
MOKVAR: Warchief? I think I might have at least a few answers for us…
Mokvar pulls a frog from until his cloak and dangles it by one leg.
GARROSH: Is that…?
MOKVAR: Neeru Fireblade. I’ve been keeping him hexed. I figure he may be able to fill in a few gaps if we want to pop him.
DRANOSH: Is this the one who did this?
GARROSH: Not alone. But he was the ringleader of those warlocks in the Cleft of Shadow, anyway…
DRANOSH: <visibly fuming> Oh… Oh, bring him out. I want to talk to this one…
Mokvar nods and drops the frog on the deck, then zaps it with a frost shock to break the hex. Before Neeru Fireblade can react in his restored orc form, Dranosh grabs him by his robes and shoves him back against the railing.
DRANOSH: Oh hello, Neeru, so glad you made it out in one piece…
Neeru struggles against Dranosh’s grip, but Dranosh only shoves him back harder.
It would have been such a shame if you’d gotten yourself killed back there and cost me the chance to do the honors myself.
Neeru looks around at the gunship, then grins and chuckles cruelly.
NEERU: Based on our surroundings, I assume the day goes badly, eh, Warchief?
GARROSH: Not nearly as badly as it’s about to go for you if you don’t talk.
DRANOSH: I’ve got a lot of questions, Neeru, but here’s the main one – why?
NEERU: <laughing> Why? Why would I work against my enemy? Are you really that naïve, boy?
DRANOSH: How is the Horde your enemy? You’ve been a citizen of Orgrimmar for years!
NEERU: And a warlock of the Burning Blade for longer! That shaman who came before you wanted to believe so badly that some of us might yet be redeemed that he gave us haven in his precious capital. Even when his agents told him my loyalties might be…conflicted…the trusting fool still left me there in my tent to go about my business unimpeded.
GARROSH: Wow, seriously?
MOKVAR: You didn’t know about this?
GARROSH: Would have been nice if he’d left me a fucking note about it or something…
NEERU: <chuckling> Allegiance to the Shadow Council is not foresworn so readily.
DRANOSH: So you’ve been sitting there all these years plotting this?
NEERU: This specifically? No, no, boy. Simply…watching for moments of opportunity. And the Scourge attack on Orgrimmar proved a superb one.
GARROSH: While we were busy watching the rear gate, there was nobody to keep an eye on you bastards in the Cleft.
DRANOSH: Is that what the demons were doing in the Deadwind Pass? Gathering for your go-ahead?
NEERU: Our go-ahead, and more importantly our beacon to target their portal. The Legion also happened to have, in the Deadwind Pass, some ideal resources for a surprise attack such as this.
GARROSH: Malchezaar, in Karazhan.
NEERU: Holder of one of the most powerful sources of portal magic in this world – the Book of Medivh.
DRANOSH: Hold on – I’ve heard of Malchezaar, but I thought he was dead.
MOKVAR: He was.
GARROSH: Repeatedly.
MOKVAR: Didn’t take.
DRANOSH: Excuse me?
NEERU: <chuckling> Your mind is so comically linear.
GARROSH: Malchezaar hung out in the highest level of Karazhan, where it pokes through into this whole other dimension.
MOKVAR: Netherspace.
GARROSH: Time doesn’t work the same way up there…it’s like it’s locked in this infinite loop. So people went up there and killed him, yeah, and then a few days later the loop would reset, and he’d be there alive again.
MOKVAR: And then someone else would kill him, and in a few days the loop would reset again.
GARROSH: On and on endlessly.
DRANOSH: And he just stayed there to die over and over? Why would anyone do that? Why wouldn’t he just leave?
NEERU: Because so long as he was there, he could never truly die, you fool. No matter how many deaths he might endure – hundreds, perhaps – the Netherspace would always restore him. The perfect hiding place for the Legion to stash away a key weapon for safekeeping, until the time would come that he would be needed.
DRANOSH: o today the demons cracked Malchezaar out of storage to bring them here…
NEERU: <smirks at Garrosh and chuckles> I wish you could have seen the look on your face when—
DRANOSH: <shaking Neeru violently> I would be a little more worried about the look on you face when I cut off your head and stick it on a pike, Fireblade!
NEERU: Do you wish to, Warchief? Then by all means. I had no delusions that I would escape this endeavor alive. But I believe. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter if you kill me. I’ve lived long enough to see Orgrimmar burn.
Dranosh loosens his grip on Neeru and stares over the warlock’s shoulder at Orgrimmar.
DRANOSH: You’re forgetting something, Neeru.
Neeru arches an eyebrow quizzically.
Orgrimmar is behind you.
Dranosh draws his sword and runs it through Neeru.
You haven’t seen anything.
Neeru seizes up, then goes limp on the sword. Dranosh extends his blade over the deck railing, then shakes off the body, letting it plummet to the rocks below.
GARROSH: <spitting over the side> Dismissed.
Dranosh stands at the railing, looking down, then looks back at Orgrimmar.
DRANOSH: I should have caught what they were doing. This should never have happened.
Garrosh stands next to Dranosh.
GARROSH: You’re part right. This shouldn’t ever have happened. <looks at Mokvar, then back> What if we could fix it?
DRANOSH: Yeah, sure, we’ll just rewind time and take it all back.
MOKVAR: Not exactly.
GARROSH: Look…what I have in mind isn’t a sure thing by any means, and I’m not even sure exactly how to do it myself. But I think I can find out. And if it works…well, things won’t be perfect. Like, at all. But the demons won’t be running roughshod over the world, and the Scourge will be under control.
DRANOSH: Sounds pretty perfect to me. You sure you haven’t been dipping into the felweed again?
GARROSH: I’m serious. It won’t be easy, even if we can do it at all. And…I don’t know if we’ll all make it through alive. In fact…I’m pretty sure we won’t.
DRANOSH: But Orgrimmar, our people – they do?
GARROSH: I think so, yeah. If what I’m thinking works.
DRANOSH: <nods slowly> If that ends up being the cost… A mediocre Warchief is a small price to pay for the survival of the Horde, don’t you think?
GARROSH: I don’t know. I’ve only seen great ones.
DRANOSH: What do we do?
GARROSH: First I need information. <thinks for a minute> And before we get too far along to Theramore, I need to make a quick side a trip to Ashenvale.
DRANOSH: What’s in Ashenvale?
GARROSH: An old friend.
Oh yeah. Shit just got real.
