Tag Archives: shayari

Monday mailbag

[Running more than a bit behind on getting some Photoshop work done, and I can’t rightly leave everyone hanging for TOO long! So here, let’s let Garrosh dip back into the ol’ mailbag briefly… (And for any timeline/continuity sticklers out there — of which, admittedly, I’m one — let’s say he queued this up just before departing for his current excursion…)]

Okay, people, you know how this works, so let’s get right to it…

 

Dear Warchief,

I know I have not posted or commented much lately, but I have preferred to sit quietly in the background and focus on the tasks you have set, followed as always by my faithful bodyguard (long story short, my fiance demands I have a bodyguard after some incidents that happened during my pregnancy and the birth of my daughter).

However, Selarcis (of the Sunfires, in case you know of him), my bodyguard, left some… ah.. interesting paperwork lying around.

It appears as though he has been trying to calculate my protection as offered by the formula you provided.

I know the entire calculation was meant to show how the “lack” of armor on a female (or male, for that matter), calculates into nudity factor and to-hit ratio… but I am a Priestess, and therefore I tend to keep myself quite covered. It is rare that I show much more than my midriff and my arms, if that.

Is there some kind of separate calculation for cloth-wearers, or does this formula also work?

I’m sure Selarcis will wind up seeing this, and if he does, I’m sure I’m going to hear the lecture of a lifetime… He’s the engineer, not me (I’m just a simple seamstress and enchantress), but I’m wondering if he’s going about this all wrong.

The answer he came up with was:

∆h=140.1333/3.826 * (87*93)^2

… then there are notes saying Bo and e are “1-100”, and a lot of scribbles, and then, an answer, circled, of 2397732809.

Apart from the questions on how he got my measurements (other than the ones that I use to personally craft robes and dresses for myself), I don’t understand exactly what any of this means.

Again, I’m not an engineer of any kind, and well.. he is.
Again, is this just the calculation for plate-armor, or does this also apply to cloth, leather, and mail?

… What exactly do Bo and e stand for? Where did he get my Nudity Index? (I assume that’s what the St/Sc he has here are for, going back and reading your equation and notes again…) I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t seen me … I mean… as traveling partners and both of us healers, we have no secrets and no modesty around each other… but the numbers.. I just don’t understand where they came from…

Could you shed some light on any of this?

Briyanna Solari Soleilin

I… oh great. See? See? This is what happens when I try laying some science on you people. I blog one simple little equation that quantifies how distracted a would-be attacker becomes due to leering at the skin you’re blood-elvishly showing off with your choice of non-armor, and somebody just had to go and make it weird. So, okay, here we go.

So, first, these calculations apply to any armor type. Plate, mail, whatever. I’m getting a clothie vibe from you, Briyanna, but I could be wrong. Either way, it doesn’t factor into the equation. The Focus Distortion Field doesn’t care what kind of armor you’re not-wearing so long as you’re, you know, not wearing it. Not wearing plate doesn’t protect you any better than not wearing cloth.

Next, as far as the actual numbers your bodyguard came up with… You’ve got me there. See, I know ABOUT this equation and I understand the basic premise, but I’ve never tried to sit down and crunch actual numbers. Seeing as, you know, I actually have a life and friends and shit. Luckily, though, I just so happen to have access to a dude who DOESN’T have those things so much, and is usually pretty good with this kind of dorky stuff. So let me kick it over to him for a minute. You might know him.

Hey, what’s up? Spazzle here! I wasn’t expecting to get back into a mailbag again so soon, but I guess Garrosh had a technical question from a letter, so…

Um…

Yipes. I’m looking it over now, and, um… this thing’s kind of all over the place. So I mean… Well, you take the Nudity Index part, and he has you down for (140.1333 / 3.826), which is supposed to be the ratio of total body surface area to surface area concealed, and… I mean, I’m not even sure how you could have landed a 3.826 for your coverage. That’s really low. Like low even for AQ trash drops kind of low. Are you really walking around wearing… um…? Yikes. Or… well, I guess it could be thrown off depending on what units of measurement he was using… see, the formula was originally designed to work with square inches, although there’s also a variation that adjusts for a base-10 system of measurements, but you can end up with a few wonky problems depending on how many decimal places of accuracy you want. But then if your guy there got a wild hair up his keister and decided to try doing this with the Zinkowski system, hoo boy, because now you’ve got to account for four-dimensional permutations over a continuum, which gives you a wider scope of coverage but introduces a whole quantum aspect to the whole thing. And so if he’s going that then I can see why your denominator is trending toward pi, because…

I’d just like to step in here and point out that, faced with an almost-naked blood elf, dude here is zeroed in on algebra or whatever.

Nerd.

Hey, you asked me to field this one!

Yeah, yeah, whatever.

Well, the point is that I’m not sure what’s going on with those first couple of figures… but the real mystery is the Bo2 and es values, because he has to be doing something wonky with those. There’s no way the BOOTEE-squared value should be that big. Like… the notes she mentioned about the Bo2 and es being based on a 1-100 range would give a result that’s orders of magnitude off from what it should be, seeing as those figures are supposed to be built on a limit of 10 with logarithmic curvature… So I don’t know, maybe he’s deliberately way way overshooting Eugene’s limit as a way to convey how exponentially gorgeous she is, even beyond computational laws? That’s the best I can do on that one…

Yeah, so, I guess this is the part where I answer that part of your question, Briyanna. Because, see, Bo2 — “body observational optimality” — and es — “exhibitional enticement” — are pretty much measures of, well, hotness. You know that old saying, “Flaunt it if you’ve got it?” Well, think of those two as a measure of how much you’ve got it and how well you flaunt it. So apparently your guy there has you rated as an 87 and 93 on those accounts. Which, like Pea Pod was saying, goes way beyond the normal values of Bo2 and es, so either you bodyguard has decided that on a scale of 1 to 10, you’re a fucking 87, or someone gave him some REALLY bad intel on how this calculation works. Either that, or he’s kind of not too bright. At all. Even remotely. Like we’d have to be talking Dontrag-and-Utvochically severe levels of not smart. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

But that kind of brings us to your other question, about how he got your Nudity Index. Because like Spazzle was saying, he worked that out based on actual NUMBERS that measure your total “surface area” — translation: every last literal inch of your body — and how much of that surface area you actually keep covered up. Which apparently isn’t a whole lot. So, you know, go you. Point is, though, he had those figures down to a VERY high level of accuracy, which means he had to be making some VERY detailed measurements of your, um, measurements. And so when you combine the EXTREMELY close attention he’s been paying to your bod — unknown to you, apparently — with the crazy inflated hotness scores he’s been giving you for this thing, well, what I’m telling you, Briyanna, is it looks like your “bodyguard” wants to be doing more with your body than guarding.

So, maybe this is a surprise to you, since your letter kind of gives me the sense that he hasn’t done anything to let on that he’s been checking you out. Which, I mean, I don’t really know what to tell you about that, seeing as I don’t have a whole lot of experience with having my eyes on a woman but not being able to pull the trigger and DO something about it. Usually I barely need to do anything myself, because, you know, #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh. Luckily, though, I just so happen to have access to a dude who DOES probably have a fair amount of expertise in being all awkward and dateless and just hovering around in the background when there’s a girl he likes and whoa-is-me’ing about how she never picks up on any of the clear signals he’s not at all sending in lieu of coming right out and doing something, so let me kick it over to him for a minute.

Um. That means you’re up again, dude.

Wait, that was supposed to be me?

Who the hell else would I have been talking about?

Geez, boss, way to make me look good…

Hey, look, you are what you are.

True enough, Warchief, though I would hasten to point out that, in light of current events, you might do well not to alienate all of your remaining supporters.

Wait, what the hell? Oh, don’t fucking tell me…

Yes indeed, Warchief, it is I, Lady Sylvanas Windrunner. I try as best I can to keep an eye on the goings-on on your ever-entertaining and oft-illuminating blog, and in this instance I felt compelled to step in and offer constructive comment.

By hacking into the blog. Again.

Not something that should surprise you, given that, as you rightly point out, this is hardly my first virtual visit, as it were.

Even though my supposed tech expert said he’d changed the password and locked the site down.

Oh man, here we go again…

Oh, was I supposed to be maintaining the pretense that I’d been locked out? I must have lost track of that. Silly me.

You know, I really want to know how you became such an expert in hacking. The firewall I set up was no joke.

You would be amazed by the skills one acquires when one no longer needs to lose several hours daily to the need for sleep.

You mean like what happens with Rook when she’s had six or seven gallons of Starbulls in one sitting?

I’m not sure I know who that is, Warchief.

One of his trainees, I think.

Oh. Is that the orc boy you’ve mentioned? I do recall there being a protege of sorts of whom you appeared to have grown rather fond.

No, that’s Gurtash. I was talking about… you know what? Never mind.

If you wish, sir. In any case, in this particular instance, I can’t claim to have hacked into the blog quite the same way as I have in the past.

How the hell are you here, then?

There’s an app for it.

The what you say?

Oh man. I can already tell this is going to be bad…

An app. For my Eye Pad of Kilrogg. A handy little device, I must say. You might consider picking one up for yourself, Warchief, for those times when you’re not in your throne room.

Uh… yeah.

It really does come in handy, boss, I have to say.

Oh for fuck’s sake, ANOTHER one?

Oh, hey, is that you, Mokvar?

Yeah, it’s me. Hey Spaz.

Ah, a pleasure to see you, Mokvar, albeit digitally. I trust the Eye Pad is working well?

Yeah, it’s been great so far.

Holy crap, Mok, you’re actually stepping up your tech into the Third Age?

Don’t you start. But yeah, it’s turning out to be a lot handier than I would have figured.

So hang on, you mean Sylvanas hooked you up with one of these… whatever-the-fuck-they-are’s, and now I’ve got YOU sticking your nose into the blog editor with it TOO?

Well, to be fair, boss, I did already have access. Remember you had Spazzle set me up to post my own entries.

Oh, yeah, I forgot how you do that sometimes.

You’re still not reading what we write, huh?

You mean you write stuff, too?

Asked and answered, Spaz.

Your capacity to cultivate loyalty among your followers truly does inspire, Warchief. Little wonder you enjoy such unanimous support among the Horde leadership.

Said the woman who’s HACKING INTO MY BLOG with an APP that’s apparently ready-made to let her do that, and who the hell even puts something like that together, anyway?

I’m not sure who coded it, though it seems like something that would be a goblin endeavor.

Hey, racist much? Whose side are you on?!

What a curious question for you to pose, Spazzle, considering.

Oh felgercarb, ixnay on the onflicted-loyalty-cay!

Is that some kind of goblin lingo or something?

Still better than when he starts writing in binary.

Wow, he really does that? He needs to get out more.

Oh, geez, thanks.

UM.

Well, hey, Spaz, you… wait a minute.

Well this is curious.

WAIT A MINUTE INDEED.

Hey, Pops. Try not to blow a gasket or something.

Oh for fuck’s sake. YOU TOO?

Oh boy… this is just setting up more and more work for me…

Don’t act all weirded out, Pops. You’re the one who kept trying to get me to take an interest in your dorky blog.

Yeah well I didn’t think you were going to join the goddamn HACK PARADE.

Is that who I think it is?

WHAT DO YOU THINK

Shayari?

The one and only!

I don’t fucking believe this shit.

Oh, my, this is the daughter I’ve heard so much about? I haven’t had the pleasure.

Hey, nice to meet you. Who are you again?

Can we maybe focus a little less on social hour and a little more on HOW THE HELL EVERYONE IS GETTING INTO MY BLOG TODAY

Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, at your service. Shayari, isn’t it?

Yep, that’s me.

And you hush, Pops.

WHAT THE

Well well, she is a little firecracker, isn’t she?

And I had no idea you fancied such colorful terms of endearment, Warchief. “Pops” indeed!

Oh don’t YOU start too, Sylvanas.

Oh, hush now, Pops.

I mean Warchief.

*giggle*

^_^

I think I’m going to maybe log off and step a safe distance away from the pad.

Yeah, I might follow your lead there, Mok.

OH NO YOU DON’T, Pea Pod. You’re keeping your ass right here until you fix the damn blog so EVERY LAST MOTHERFUCKER UNDER THE SUN can’t just stick their nose in at will!

Right, boss. On it.

Strictly speaking, Garrosh, I’m more underground than under the sun.

YOU KNOW WHAT I FUCKING WELL MEAN, LIVING DEAD GIRL

At any rate, Shayari, I assume you’ve picked up the Crowbar app as well?

Yup, I downloaded it after Pops had me fielding his mail that time.

Wait, what the hell are you even USING it on?

An Eye Pad of Kilrogg, of course. Duh, Pops.

Yes, Garrosh, duh.

Oh, actually, Shay — may I call you Shay? — if you have one of our delightful little tablets, does that mean you’ve been to my humble Undercity?

Oh, yeah, I port over all the time for mage lessons with Eddie.

With whom?

Faranell.

Oh. My, you do have a way of referring to people, don’t you?

I’m quite surprised, though. I had no idea the good doctor had any such extracurricular activities.

Actually, our activities are very curricular. Like literally.

I’m kind of surprised he volunteered for that job.

I think Liadrin talked him into it.

That must be why he approaches the job with such effusive enthusiasm, yeah.

Well, I don’t know how well the good doctor has been teaching you magic, Shayari, but I dare say you appear to have picked up his distinctive sarcasm.

Yeah, well, he better be getting the job done for what I’m paying him.

Oh, no, I pretty much had that going all along. The sarcasm, I mean.

Wait, you’re paying Edwin for this?

Sounds like an abomination to you, too, huh?

Oh, no, Warchief, I can say with some authority that abominations sound a fair bit different.

Well, maybe not that bad, but I just figured you would have treated an assignment like this as just one more part of his regular job.

Well, yeah, he DOES pretty much work for me anyway.

Strictly speaking, dear Warchief, I must say I believe I have the more immediate claim to the good doctor’s work hours.

Other than the part where I outrank you.

Well, yes, for the time being. You never know, though — I’m quite ambitious, and politics can be such a fickle affair!

Yeah, well, I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting to be Warchief.

I can’t imagine why not. Being as I am undead, I can hold my breath for an extraordinarily long time. Say, another two or three years?

Can we get back to the small matter of fucking EVERYONE I KNOW HACKING INTO MY GODDAMN BLOG?

I know, I know, I’m working on it…

Really, Pops, the app’s right there for anyone to grab from the Sunfruit store. It’s not our fault you’re only finding out about this now. Don’t blame the messenger.

She clearly hasn’t noticed the pile of dead messengers out behind the hold…

Oh for frak’s sake!

What?

Oh geez, you’re not going to believe this.

Uh oh.

Can you wait just a moment before saying it, Spazzle? For some reason I feel an urge to heat up some popcorn.

Oh, hey, good call. One popcorn pyroblast incoming…

Yeah, so…

Will you just fucking SPIT IT OUT already?

Don’t let him rush you, Spazzle. Popcorn’s almost done.

And YOU stay out of this!

^_^

So, okay, I just did a little digging on that Crowbar app. And it turns out, well… “Published by Blackfuse Software Division.”

Hoo boy.

!!!

Was that supposed to mean something to us?

Shh. I want to see if he does question marks next.

WHAT

THE LITERAL

FUCK

Not for anything, chief, but I told you that guy was nothing but trouble.

Fucking hell, how many more supposed ALLIES am I going to have fucking SCREWING ME OVER behind my BACK?!

Would “five” be too suspiciously specific?

What’s going on?

Helix Blackfuse is a contractor Garrosh hired.

Oh. Okay, so this is one of those boring office things.

I think I can file a complaint with Sunfruit to get the app pulled down, chief. I’ll have to change all the security settings, but it should limit the damage.

Hopefully.

Yeah, you do that. In the meantime, Mokvar, get your shit together, we’re paying Blackfuse a little visit.

On it, boss.

And see if you can grab Gurtash on the way over. He should be running drills out by the west rampart with the other trainees.

Won’t that be a little overkill?

No, I think there’s going to be exactly the right amount of kill.

If you say so, boss. You really think you’re going to need a transcript and a comic done, though?

I’m not bringing Gurtash to do a comic. I just want someone there with some artistic ability to draw the chalk outline.

Hey, uh, Dark Lady, would you happen to have any of that popcorn left?

Got it, boss.

Okay. We’ve got some ANNOYING AS ALWAYS BECAUSE WELCOME TO MY LIFE work to do.

Have fun, Pops.

Yeah, well, that means you people all need to be logging off of here. Or wait for Pea Pod to lock you out again. Whichever.

It’s adorable that you think so, I must say, sir.

JUST GET OFF OF HERE, for fuck’s sake.

If you say so, Pops. I should go over a few incantations anyway.

Speaking of which, Shay, the next time you’re in the Undercity, you simply must drop by the Royal Quarter. It would be a great pleasure to meet our esteemed Warchief’s next of kin in person.

Heading out now, boss. I’ll meet you in the war room.

Sure, I guess. I’m there a bunch of times every week.

Splendid. Apropos of nothing, by the way, what are your feelings on eternal youth?

Okay, people, let’s move it.

Well, I feel like, seeing as I’m half draenei, I’ve pretty much already got that covered.

I see you’ve inherited your father’s charming naivete.

MOVE IT, I said.

Ugh. Dammit, Spazzle, just pull the plug on everyone.

On it, chief.

 

There, that should do it. All the guest logins should be terminated. Nobody left except the admin accounts.

Sorry about all of this, chief. I’ll get it all locked down for serious this afternoon.

 

Chief?

 

Anybody home?

 

Garrosh?

 

 

Oh geez. Did I just… Hang on…

Oh frak.

<sigh> I’m gonna pay for this one tomorrow morning, I just know it.

Oh well. I guess… um… bye, everyone. Talk to you all soon, I guess?

 

 

 

Indeed. Talk to you all soon. ~_^

 

Monday GUEST mailbag: Shayari

shayari_mailbag1

Hi again, everyone. It’s yours truly, Shayari, filling in for Pops for one of his mailbag thingies. I’m not sure how he talked me into doing this again, to be honest. I think he caught me while I was paying attention to something else, then got a “yeah, uh huh” from me before I realized what he was asking. To be fair, I got him for a couple shopping trips the same way. Before he got wise, anyway. Oh well.

So ol’ Garry wanted me to mind the fort letter-answering-wise, since apparently he’s going to be pretty busy in Pandaria, and I guess so many people write in for this that he didn’t feel like it could just wait. Which I totally don’t get. Do that many people actually read this thing? I can’t imagine it could be more than, like, a dozen. Two dozen tops.

But, hey, a promise is a promise, so here we go.

 

Dearest Shayari,

My goodness, it’s been rather a long time since I had the luxury of being able to converse with you! Certainly not without the eager interruptions of friends and family. Not that I can complain, of course. I love conversation! And if anything, I have Korrina to thank for letting me know that YOU were taking over the next mailbag. I’d completely forgotten to go through your dad’s last mailbag. All this travelling has left me too exhausted to even read! Then again, it’s often worth it when you visit all these fabulous ethnic places and meet all kinds of bizarre new people. I wonder if you’ve ever heard of this gnome called Brazie Getz? His entire marketing campaign is on Deathbringer’s Rise in Icecrown. He’s a weird, weird guy. Don’t ever talk to him.

Anywho, I think I’d better rush to the point. I’m still travelling, of course – matter of fact, the only place I haven’t been to visit yet is Pandaria, so that’s likely next on my list! – and I found myself growing more and more curious with regards to the mailboxes of Azeroth. That is, every time I dropped a letter into a mailbox, it simply vanished! And would you believe it or not, but half the time, the correspondent’s response would appear before me a mere five minutes later.

I’m only assuming that this is a rather common stretch of magic, but as I’m not a mage, I don’t know how it works. So I ask you, Shayari, do you know what school of magic is responsible for this faster-than-Light-itself speed of delivery of mail in these boxes?

Take care, and be well!

–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade

Oh… uh, hey, Sarlin. Nice to… hear from you again. So… Korrina told you I was fielding letters for this mailbag? I’ll, uh… I’ll have to… thank her for that. Maybe thank her repeatedly. Over a span of several slow, torturous thankful days.

Or, well, I would, if I knew which one she was. She’s one of Pip’s friends, right? The ones who are always running around in the garish hand-me-down gear? She’s not the one that’s always putting her foot in her mouth, is she?

Either way… well… here you are. At least you toned it down a little this time around, though. Or… well, wait, you did tone it down, right? I’m not just missing a few pages? Because if I am, I mean, don’t feel like you need to correct that and send me a new copy or anything. You know, I’m already answering the letter now, so it’s not like there’s anything to gain at this point. Water under the bridge. That I should probably burn before it’s too late.

But, hey, speaking of sending things through the mail, that’s a question I can actually answer! You’re totally right, Sarlin — those mailboxes do use magic to make their insta-deliveries. Well, most of them do. There are still places that use old-timey mailboxes, where somebody has to go around and physically pick up the letters and stuff, but there are only a few of those left. So the magic they use for those things is arcane. The way it works — this is actually pretty weird but cool — is that all those mailboxes are sort of permanent mini-portals. You drop something in the mailbox, and poof! it goes through the portal and pops into the sorting room at the central post office. Which… well, I don’t exactly know where that is, or who runs it, although whoever it is they must have a massively fun life considering how they seem like they’re constantly on the job. But then they sort through the letters, or packages, or whatever, and send them back through another mini-portal, and double poof! they pop back out to whatever other mailbox you need to use to pick the delivery up. Pretty neat, huh?

I meant that last question rhetorically, by the way. No need to write back again, Sarlin. I mean, I figure you’re already busy enough doing whatever it is that you do. (Spirits help me, why am I talking about this like I’m going to be getting these again? Focus, Shay, focus!)

 

Dear Shayari,

Are you still taking mage lessons from our dear Mr Faranell? I am curious, what is he like as a teacher? Have you smoothed things over with him after, well, you know?

–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City

Well for one thing, let me tell you, you won’t win any points with Eddie by calling him “Mr. Faranell.” He likes that even less than he likes me calling him Eddie. I’ve seen it. One of those Kor’kron guys called him that and he got all pissy about it, “I didn’t spend a zillion years in mad scientist school or whatever so you could call me ‘mister,’ ” blah blah. Then he turned the Kor’kron guy into a sewer rat. Granted, it was just a polymorph variation. Fun fact, by the way: it turns out that being swallowed whole by a giant spider doesn’t break the polymorph. Who knew?

But yeah, I’m still working on my magic with Eddie. Pops had me stay in Orgrimmar while he’s in Pandaria so I can keep up with my apprenticeship. I’d like to see Pandaria at some point, though. I’ve heard it’s beautiful there. Pops promised I’ll get to see it eventually, so I guess we’ll see.

Anyhow, Eddie’s fine as a teacher, I guess. He’s definitely really smart. He’s just very… dry. I mean personality dry. It makes him hard to read sometimes. Like for instance, I’ll cast a spell, and he’ll say it went well, only because it’s him I’m never sure if I really did a good job or if I screwed it up and he’s being ironic. So, I don’t know, it’s been okay?

 

Dear Shayari,

Hello Shayari! My name is Clarise! I mean, my full name is Ceresella-Sareyn Sunbow but that’s like way long, and kind of a tongue twister, so I’ve shortened it to Clarise, although my sister thinks that’s a little common. Whatever. I think it’s totes adorbs. Anyways. HEY! I’m a mage apprentice too! Would you look at that, we have mutual interests! YAY! But you’re probably like waaaaay better at the kapowing than I am. I’m fourteen so I’m pretty amateur-ish at this whole pew-pew business. I can’t even polymorph properly yet! Like, I tried it once (on some idiot that was yammering on about how fire was the superior style of magic and arcane would rightfully bow at its feet one day and I just got so annoyed so POOF! Sheep he was) and it sort of lasted for about three hours. OOPS!

Anyway, so, I heard you study in the Undercity. I heard this really cool story from my sister once about there being somebody who does facials and haircuts there. Have you ever got one there? I bet they do AWESOME facials. I bet they use really frothy soap and stuff and warm water that almost feels like you’re being bathed in the physical form of perfection. Do the Forsaken have a nice sense of fashion? I like bright colours best. I specially like bright red and gold. Although leather’s pretty hip, too. Leather jackets with pink-dyed fur hoods? I would literally sell my little soul for one of those.

Coffee! Is there coffee in the Undercity!? Please tell me there’s coffee! There has to be! I would literally DIE in a place where there was no coffee. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine waking up for three hours of study in a boring room that’s way hot so it only makes you sleepier without a cup of coffee? I would just die. How many cups of coffee do you have a day? I don’t count but I think this is my twelfth. Now, that IS the physical form of perfection. In a cup!

Anyways, big fan! Can’t believe your dad responded to my first letter! MEGA FLAIL!

Ciao!

–Clarise Sunbow, Kirin Tor

So first of all, what the hell is a “ciao”? It had better not be some cool new expression that I’m behind the curve on, because you know how that goes. You start losing track of new and current expressions, then you start walking around wearing last season’s clothes, and then the next thing you know you’re thirty and it’s a quick downhill slide into sadness. Obviously, I can’t let that happen.

Oh, who am I kidding? We all know I’m not going to be out of the loop on anything cool. I am the loop on anything cool. This Clarise girl’s just talking the crazy talk.

So anyway, hi Clarise. You seem kind of weird, but you say you’re a fan of mine, so I guess you have that going for you. Wait, I have fans? Score! Eh, what am I saying? It figures I would have fans if Pops has been talking about me here on his blog. Wait, has he been talking about me here? What’s he been saying? Do I need to start working damage control?

So, um, yeah… hi, Clarise! It’s nice to hear from another mage, at least one who’s alive and not decomposing or anything. Or mordantly derisive toward everything in sight for no apparent reason. I haven’t had the chance to meet too many since the whole Jaina-schizo-Dalaran-be-gone thing. Used to hang out with nothing but mages, though. Not so much now. Seems like half the people I know are warriors. Or shamans. And I can hardly take three steps without tripping over a rogue. Which is weird considering you would think their whole deal is not being tripped over what with the sneaky. Anyway, Clarise, it’s nice to hear from another non-corpse magic user, and I’ll even let your whole arcane/fire thing slide, even though I’m a fire mage myself. You’ll come to your senses eventually. You’re right, though, polymorph is way cool.

The Undercity is… different. Not even… well, I was going to say not bad different, but… I mean, kind of yeah. I get the definite sense you’ve never actually been there. You’d probably find it, um, surprising. Probably not your cup of tea if you like bright colors. They don’t really have any. Well, other than the bright green glowing slime that’s… well… pretty much everywhere. So there’s that, at least. Otherwise, though, you’re pretty much looking at drab lifeless gray and drab lifeless purple and loads and loads of black. You wouldn’t think there could be different shades of black, right? Well you would be wrong! Don’t ask me how, but the Forsaken manage to have more shades of black than they have primary colors. Like you look around their stores and wonder “How much more black could there be?” and the answer is “None, none more black.” So I’m not sure the Undercity would really be your style.

And… I’m not even going to go near the thing about the facials. I’m pretty sure your sister was just trolling you. I mean, I suppose it’s possible that the Forsaken have salons there (would they need to get their hair cut, though? does your hair actually grow when you’re a dead person?), but I can’t imagine they’d be worried about cleansing pores nearly as much as necrosis and maggots. And if, you know, ew, I agree with you.

 

Hey, Shayari mon!

I got a question for ya! If da Lich King’s horse be Invincible, how come I be seein’ it, mon?

–Bob, Shado-pan Monastery

I don’t know, Bobby, I guess lack of sex causes enhanced eyesight? So, you know, keep up the good work with the total physical and personal unattractiveness — you’ll be rocking the full-on x-ray vision in no time!

 

 

Hey, Shay!

Here’s an #EpicVerse prompt for you.

“There was a Draenei named Shayari,”

Go, go, go!

–Valinora Lightshorn, Stormwind City

So… I’m really not sure what to make of this. I mean, I get that the “epic verse” thing is a reference to the weird poetry Pops likes to write, and how he can’t just call it “poetry” like a normal person, but has to play it up with the whole “epic verse!” thing. Which, by the way, he literally yells out loud when he finishes writing one. He’ll be sitting there working on something, and I’m not even paying attention to what he’s doing because whatever, and then all of a sudden he slams his quill down on the desk and yells “epic verse!” at like nine thousand decibels. Which is pretty startling, really. Also kind of weird, since he does it every time he thinks he’s finished. And he’ll go back and revise one line, and slam his quill down again, and yell “epic verse!” again… and then he’ll look back at it and change one word again and go through the whole slammy yelly thing again. He’s so weird, I can’t even.

So I get what the #EpicVerse part of your letter is talking about, but… I’m not sure what you’re looking for. Is this some kind of running thing in Pops’ blog? Actually, hang on, I’m going to check with greeny goblin nerd guy about this.

Hold tight!

Oh, okay. So the gob-geek guy, Spackle or whatever, says that apparently you have this ongoing thing in Pops’ mailbags, where you send him an opening line for one of his poems and then he writes the rest? Is that a thing? Does he do that? So wait, does that mean you’ve been partly responsible for all the yelling at his desk and the startling and stuff? It really scares my bird when he does that, I’ll have you know.

Only, see, here’s the thing. Garrosh is really the poet in the family. And boy, I bet there are tons of people who never thought they’d read that sentence, huh? But the point is that I’ve never been much of a writer, so maybe you should just stick to hitting Pops with these poetry requests, since I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything all that good, mostly probably because the whole thing seems kind of weird.

Except I guess Pops will end up seeing this when he gets back from Pandaria (I mean he DOES read this stuff that me and Spackle and whoever else writes on here, right? and by the way, Pops, nice job outsourcing your own hobby, I mean could you be any more lazy? come on), and I guess if he sees me admitting I wouldn’t be good at doing something he thinks he’s good at, there’ll be no living with him. I mean have you seen him? There’s almost no living with him now. I don’t even want to think about how out of control his ego will be in a couple weeks if I go ahead and feed it. So okay, let me try this, but I’m not making any promises.

 

There was a Draenei named Shayari,
Actually half Kurenai, half Mag’hari,
Who lived in Nagrand where it’s starry,
And went on a wildlife safari,
While Pops is busy in Pandari

-a.

And maybe something about the Sha’tari,
And had calamari and Londo Mollari,

 

and okay I don’t think this is going anywhere. I’m just making up words at this point. Oh well. I tried.

 

Hello Shayari,

Do you play Earth Online? What class do you play? If you don’t play do you think you might give it a try some day?

–Greztah, Earthen Ring

So, okay, first of all, no. I keep getting asked this, so no, no, no. I’m not interested in getting into your weird virtual reality game. I don’t need my reality to be virtual. Reality reality is working out just fine for me.

And also, what is it with you guys and this game? It’s bad enough I had to find out Pops is a closet nerd with this game of his. But it seems like half the jokers around here play it, too. Fel, when I went to ask that Spackle guy about the poetry thing a minute ago, even he tried making a sales pitch on me, like for some kind of referral thing. I guess if he got me to sign up he could have gotten some kind of… I don’t even know what. A make-believe vehicle in the game that he would have to buy with real money otherwise? Is that something they make you do in this game? Fork over real money to buy make-believe things? Because if so…

Okay, people, let’s have some real talk here.

Because, look, speaking as someone who takes her shopping seriously… shopping with real money for imaginary stuff? That’s crazy talk. If I’m going to buy something, I’m for sure going to walk out of that store carrying something with actual physical substance to it. Otherwise, they’re not getting my money. Well, technically, they wouldn’t be getting my money, they’d be getting Pops’ money. But you get the idea.

The point is, are you people nuts?

 

So I guess that’s about as good a note as any to end on. Especially since that was the last letter. I’m not sure how much longer Garry is going to need before he’s back to doing this himself, but I think I might just pass it off to that Spackle guy if Pops needs things covered for a while more. Not that I don’t like hearing from everyone. Just that I have kind of a yearly weirdness quota, and just plain day-to-day life fills up that bar pretty quick as it is.

Bye!

 

[And so we’re back! As I announced before the break, our next mailbag will be Monday, September 5. I’m making one revision to the plan, though: rather than that installment being Garrosh’s return to mailbag duties, we’ve going to have one more guest mailbag — this time, from everyone’s favorite goblin tech guru, Spazzle! This is essentially me heading my bets — the Warchief is going to have a lot going on at Kypari Zar, which will involve a lot drawing that I’ll need to get done over several posts, so I wanted to make sure I’ll have time to get all that done without Garrosh seemingly having to stop in the middle of it to answer his mail. Plus, I’ve wanted to do a Spazzle mailbag for a while! (Who knows, maybe Mokvar will get one one day, too…) Garrosh will be back answering his accumulated mail for October’s mailbag (October 3, for those of you keeping score at home). As always, send your letters via email (link in the upper right sidebar) or using the form below.]

 

 

A bargain at any price

bmah1

You know, I don’t know what was the bigger surprise — running into King Chin’s brat kid at the Tavern in the Mists, or how fast he was able to clear absolutely 100% out of the area even with that bum leg of his.

You’ll notice, by the way, that I’m not listing “Anduin is ALIVE” in my list of surprises, because seriously, at this point, I don’t know if there are ANY thought-they-were-dead people who could turn up again and have me going “HOLY SHIT, WHAT A SURPRISE!” Because, you know, I might have mentioned this a time or two, but NOBODY FUCKING STAYS DEAD ANYMORE. So, hey, Prince Goody-Two-Shoes wants to shrug off certain doom? Sure, why the fuck now. At this rate, it would only surprise me if… I don’t know, let’s say fucking Illidan… DOESN’T show up again at some point.

Anyhow. Mokvar had some research or whatever that he wanted to do here at the tavern, so I took off to have a look around the area. I didn’t send up going far, though. Turns out there’s another building right next door where this old panda lady, Madam Goya, runs an off-the-books auction house. She had a ton of fairly rare and coveted stuff up for sale. It’s probably better off for me that I don’t know how she GOT all that stuff… but you know what’s REALLY better off for me? That freaking Shayari DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT THIS PLACE, that’s what, because holy crap could she pile up some orders of magnitude fast at these prices.

Still, I DID spot one goody up for sale that I just couldn’t pass up as an impulse buy.

AND SO, HEY! HEY, BOB! ARE YOU READING THIS SHIT? CHECK THIS OUT!

howcaniseeit

CAN YOU FUCKING SEE THE LICH KING’S HORSE NOW, MOTHERFUCKER?!?

 

Monday mailbag

mailbag10

You know, for once I’m glad I put off checking on the latest batch of mail. The way it ended up working out, I just had a bunch of it piled up waiting for attention. (NOT UNLIKE MY GROUPIES, but that’s a story for another day) just in time for the trip back to Pandaria. So, the long boat trip wound up giving me the damn time I needed to finally get around to reading your letters and working up some responses. So, let’s get right into it…

 

Warchief Garrosh,

I want to complain about your minions, the kind-of-Orc-twins whose names I didn’t care to remember.

I am a Draenei lady and am deeply worried about their fascination for hooves, or hooftishism as they called it. What if they’re starting a trend? It is annoying enough to deal with the butt fetishists, we don’t need people who will try to lick our hooves on top of that.

Please make sure that they don’t organize meetings to share their passion with their fellows. Think that your daughter too could, one day, be harassed by hooftishists.

Archenon poros,

–Celesti.

Okay, so first of all, Celesti, I’m glad you specified the “kind-of-Orc-twins” part, because if you’d left it at “I have complaints about you minions, whose names I didn’t care enough about to remember,” well, number one, that’d be way too broad to narrow down, and number two, guess what, “minions I don’t care enough about to remember their names” pretty much covers how I feel about a large chunk of my payroll, so, you know, there’s that.

So, yeah. Dontrag and Utvoch. Although… okay, this might be yet another example of the “shit I don’t care enough about to pay attention to” corollary, but I seem to remember hearing somewhere along the line that it’s only one of them who has the weird fascination with hooves. Don’t ask me which one, though. Or which one of them that one is.

But yeah. Those two. Or one of those two. Believe me, this complaint you’re registering is way, way down on the list of reasons why I find them damn annoying. It ranks, I’ll grant you that, but it doesn’t even crack the top five reasons I want to smack them in the head sometimes. And by “sometimes,” I mean three times daily, usually just after meals, with two optional time slots for further smacking in the event I’m having an aggravating day. That is, when I’m not tossing their asses overboard.

Speaking of priorities, actually… Not for nothing, but considering you’re a draenei, I would figure that your biggest complaint about a couple of Horde soldiers wouldn’t be the hoof fetish thing nearly as much as the trying-to-kill-you thing. Where the hell did you even run into those two, that the hoof thing even came up?

Wait. Are you telling me that you crossed paths with these jokers, and they got so preoccupied with their unwholesome hoof thing that they forgot about getting down to some wholesome BLOODSHED?

So yeah. Okay. I think that means it’s time for my 2:00 smacking. Except they’re still kind of preoccupied swimming frantically to keep up with the boat. Guess I’ll just have to above deck and throw stuff at them for the time being.

 

Yo, Warchief,

I’ve been kept up to date with Blackfuse’s time as engineer for the Horde.  I knew he’d be a big help as long as you could get him under control.  With any luck he’ll give you the big badda-boom hardware you need to blast the Alliance back.

Got a sitrep from the Isle of Giants, by the way.  Nazgrim’s got me working on finding some more Zandalari tomes that talk about how to tame and use Dinosaurs.  The good news is, I’ve found some, and the more intelligent beastmasters have been putting them to good use; the bad news is, they’re very hard to find, so most of our progress has been capturing and packaging baby raptors and Devilsaurs to send back to the Orgrimmar beast pens.  The big and mean ones already grown up have been a chore and a half to even talk to without getting munched, but slowly but surely we’re making progress

One last thing: I’ve heard Zandalari whispers of a really big, really mean Devilsaur who puts Oondasta to shame.  I think his name was Thok the Bloodthirsty or something like that.  Sounds like your kind of dinosaur, sir, if you catch my drift.  

Your man on the ground,

–Grottee Metalbeard, Goblin Shaman

Hey Grottee, glad to hear you made it back down to Pandaria without incident. WISH I COULD SAY THE SAME. HE SAID, WHILE TURNING AN ATTENTIVE EAR TOWARD A PORTHOLE TO LISTEN TO THE PLAINTIVE GROANS OF MORONS SWIMMING.

Glad to hear you guys are making progress with the dinos, and that Nazgrim hasn’t gotten any bright ideas about going off script again. Who knows, maybe that jackass red shirt Steve was the only member of Naz’s crew afflicted with that particular level of jackassery, so we’ll have smooth sailing from here on out. HE SAID, AS IF HE HASN’T BEEN WATCHING HIS STAFF OF MENTAL DEFECTIVES GIVE IT THE OL’ COMMUNITY COLLEGE TRY FOR A COUPLE YEARS NOW. Anyhow, as long as things are coming along. At this point I’m just glad we’re making any progress at all, even if it’s slow, considering the way things have been going, I could swear sometimes our fastest speed was reverse.

As for that Oondasta-trumping devilsaur, I think I remember you mentioning something about it once before. I’m pretty sure I included something about it in the notes I left for Nazgrim, but I guess when he decided to run with that cunning plan that led to ol’ shithead Steve’s untimely demise (maybe the one positive to come out of the whole damn affair), his people weren’t able to locate Thog or whatever, so he just went with the devilsaur that was easier to find.

Which raises a question. If this Thunk dino is as big and bad as you’re saying, Grottee, how the hell does it manage to be elusive? I mean, how the fuck does a DEVILSAUR pull off STEALTHY? Is there a goddamn sauropod ROGUE TRAINER down there teaching them to go WHOOSH WHOOSH MOSTLY TRANSPARENT? Do they, like, hold a piece of a shrub in front of themselves in their doofy little front claws with a fucking sign that says “Just a shrub, move along, citizen”? Hell, it’s not even like the Isle of Giants is a big place, from what they tell me — there couldn’t be THAT many places to hide. How the hell does this motherfucker manage to fucking ELUDE everyone?!

 

Hail, Warchief,

My apologies for the difficulties with Golmash last week.  I’m afraid his behaviour caught even me off-guard.  I was afraid that wolf would be the death of me, but instead it seems he was the death of one of your beastmasters.

At any rate, since his dramatic departure from my pens, I have been having strange and frightening dreams.  In them, I am standing at the entrance to my home on a dark night, when a horrifying sight appears before me – a ghostly orc, his face twisted and scarred, his eyes glowing with terrible power.  I hear him speaking to me in a ghastly, croaky voice, but I have no idea what he is saying.  His words sound like Orcish, but mean nothing to me.  The only thing that clearly comes across is that he is angry, as he grabs me by the shirt and shakes me while screaming in his unknown tongue.  

I have no idea what is causing these dreams or what they mean, but they are connected to Golmash somehow.  I just know it.  Whatever comes of this, Warchief, I only hope it happens quickly, for these dreams are stripping my nights of much-needed sleep.  

Your humble servant,

–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master

Hey Ogunaro. Good to hear from you. Even if you’re… you know… dealing with… well… this thing. And… well… um… you know what, O? I’m going to ask you to do me a favor here and just skip the next paragraph. I just remembered I, um, I need to insert some stuff that I meant to include in a previous letter and I, uh, I can’t just scroll up and insert while I’m typing this… um… well, because… because, oh come on, you know me and computers, right? I can’t even remember where the damn delete key is, and here I am on a boat without Spazzle around to fix this crap for me, oh woe is me, and ANYWAY that’s not even the point, the point is, see, that this extra stuff I need to insert has nothing to do with you but I really need to get it written down before I forget, because scatterbrained me, oops, you know how it goes, but I don’t want to bother you with it ’cause I know you already have enough on your plate what with, you know, the thing. So just do me a solid and skip that next paragraph so I don’t need to worry about you, and pick up again right AFTER that, right where it says “MELLIFLUOUS.” So there. Go to it. Skip starting… now.

Okay. So you guys, we need to talk. I didn’t want O listening in on this, because, you know, we — like the you and me “we,” not the Ogunaro and me “we,” and FUCK YOU PRONOUN AMBIGUITY — we have a history, and we’re cool and shit, but I don’t even know what dude’s deal is, you know? And you probably already know where I’m going with this, right? Because I’m starting to get that vibe that our buddy Ogunaro, I mean I like him all and I appreciate the work he does, but I’m starting to get the feeling like he’s one of THOSE guys. You know how I mean? Those guys where there’s ALWAYS fucking SOMETHING, like one goddamn thing after another and after a while you can’t even tell where the real crises are because EVERYTHING gets the ol’ emergency blinker cranked up to fucking eleven. Is it just me? It’s his whole goddamn family, too, near as I can tell. Well, the alive ones, anyway. But who can even say for sure on that one, either, because necromancy, motherfucker. Fingers crossed. So anyway, I just had to say something to you guys because we have a thing, but I’m for real not going to know what to do with this dude if this shit keeps up. Okay. That’s it. Don’t say anything to him. Sshh, here he comes.

MELLIFLUOUS. Which is a goddamn awesome word, by the way. Try it out sometime. And if you get a chance to have Nazgrim say it, you totally have to. He knows how to sell that shit, man. Anyway. Welcome back, O. See, wasn’t that a lot faster and easier and less insulting than having to wade through a bunch of other stuff that you definitely weren’t interested in? Hot damn, good thing I wrote it all down before I forgot, hell I don’t even remember what it was NOW. GOT IN THERE JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME, O. THAT WAS A FUCKING CLOSE ONE.

Anyhow, yeah, O, that’s some freaky shit in that dream. I can’t say I’m much of an expert in making sense of what dreams mean, though. Maybe there’s something to this dream with the ghostly visitor, maybe it’s got something to do with Golmash, maybe not. If it has something to do with the wolf, we’ll figure it out, especially now that we’ve got him secured and under close observation. If not… well, we’ll see. It might be worth getting some feedback from a shaman or two, just the same. And for the time being, just to make sure you can get a little sleep without going bonkers, maybe it’s a good idea to see if you can get something from an apothecary to help you sleep a little deeper. Just don’t take anything from an apothecary with a recently refurbished jaw who’s really sarcastic all the time, because trust me, there’s no telling what he might have slipped into that shit.

 

Dear Warchief,

I am researching the cultures of the Horde, especially naming customs. Most of the Forsaken kept the human names we were born with. A few decided to adopt new names but most of those were pretty grimdark and silly. The less said about them the better.

What naming customs do the Orcs have? Are family names passed through the father? the mother? Does you’re name mean something?

Curiously yours –

–Ickabod Pimlen, The Undercity.

Thanks for writing, Ickabod. Although, whew. “Ickabod Pimlen.” Not to be shitty to you right out the gate, Ickabod, but as long as there was already a thing going where some of the Forsaken picked a new name for themselves, I mean, maybe you should have looked into that. “Pimlen” was already not exactly a winner of a last name, but your parents really decided to top that off by naming you “Ickabod” to boot? Seriously? Yeesh, and people call ME a war criminal…

Anyway, now for your question, Ickabod. Naming customs aren’t consistent across the whole orcish race — like most of our customs and traditions naming varies with the individual clans. For instance, some clans, like the Frostwolves, rarely take on surnames. The Thunderlord clan usually does, on the other hand, and they pass those along generation to generation. Typically, but not always, patrilineally. (THAT’S RIGHT, PATRILINEALLY, MOTHERFUCKER, STOP LOOKING SURPRISED THAT I KNOW FUCKING WORDS.)

With some clans, though, last names are given in recognition of some sort of accomplishment. That’s how it works in the Warsong clan, for instance. My grandfather, Golmash (we’ve been hearing that name a lot lately, huh?), gained the name Hellscream for the battle cry he brought into a long string of victorious battles, and he passed that name on to Grommash, who passed it on to me.

Only, there’s a catch — see, in clans that use these names as a kind of honorific, there can only be one person at a time using it. So back when Golmash was alive, you wouldn’t talk about Golmash Hellscream AND Grom Hellscream. There can only be one Hellscream. That was Golmash, until he died. After that, his oldest child (in this case, his only child) could take on the name. I didn’t start using the full name until after I found out about Grom’s death — if you ran into me in Nagrand back in the day (and for your sake I hope you didn’t, because hoo boy was I an emo piece of work back then), I was just going by Garrosh.

Same thing for the Blackrock clan, by the way. Rend Blackhand was just plain ol’ Rend until daddy Blackhand (did dude ever actually have a NAME name, by the way?) bought it, just like Orgrim Doomhammer didn’t become Doomhammer until after his father Telkar died. Ditto for the Saurfangs, by the way, even though that one got a little muddier. See, while Dranosh was growing up with me in Nagrand, no one really knew what had become of Varok, but it was a pretty wide-held idea that he’d probably died. Dranosh wasn’t really sure what to believe, but he wanted to honor the family name… but he also wasn’t really sure if his old man had actually joined the ancestors. So he kind of half-wayed it and started calling himself “Saurfang the Younger.” After the family got reunited a few years back, we just kind of kept calling them both Saurfang in one way or another, just out of habit. Moot point now, I know. 

Oh and since you asked, my name means “warrior’s heart” in orcish. (I won’t offer to explain what “Dranosh” means, though, because fuck it, I’m pretty sure we’ve all been over that enough times already.)

So THERE. I bet that’s more about orcish names than you ever wanted to know. EXCEPT FOR ICKABOD, WHO ASKED ABOUT IT IN THE FIRST PLACE, SO IF YOU’RE GONNA COMPLAIN TO ANYBODY, DO IT WITH HIM, DAMMIT.

 

Hello again Warcheif!

I apologize for not finding the Command Board sooner, as you know I actually found it by accident. After talking with some friends I found out that they didn’t know about it either. Then I went to Orgrimar to see if I could find an Advertising Department. Unfortunately the guards that seem to know everything, except if something is on level one or two, did not know of this department.

Because of this I volunteer to be your Advertising Department. Here is the first line of merchandise that I came up with: Tabards. Most people wear them, especially those “adventurers” and we know that they will pay near anything if it looks cool. The other day I saw one buy a baby raptor for 100000 gold. Luckily there are less insane groups we can market to as well, shop keepers and flight masters will wear them as well as many military groups, Liadrin has all of us Blood Knights wear ours at all times.

But I can hear many people saying what will be on these tabards. Good thing I thought of that. So far I have ideas for three tabards all with the Warcheif’s Command Board on the back. First we have “Buy our shit, OR BE CRUSHED BENEATH IT!” with a picture of an orc buried under a ton of merchandise. Then there is “Fuck You Varian”, self explanitory. And finally EPIC VERSE with many of your epic verses all over the tabard.

Unfortunately I don’t have an artistic bone in my body and I haven’t found anyone that does so I can’t give you any visuals of the tabards. If you give me the go ahead on this I can get to work on new techniques by next month.

–Glen Bloodblade

Hey, Glen, glad to hear from you again. So, I’m going to excuse you for not following the blog until recently, even though we both know you already should have been following the blog before you found it accidentally. In fact, what the hell is this “accidentally” shit? You should have found it DELIBERATELY, as a result of PURPOSEFULLY SEARCHING for a blog you didn’t know existed. Because you could feel it in your bones, Glen. You could feel it in your bones.

Anyway, I’m going to let that slide. Just don’t do it again. Yes, I just told you not to not find the blog that you’re currently reading, again, which might sound like a weird thing to warn someone not to do, until you stop for a second to consider the crazy-ass world we live in, because FUCKING TIME TRAVEL. All I’m gonna tell you, Glen, is if you see any bronze dragons coming your way, or maybe a blood elf lady in a bikini dress, well, you just get ready to think fast is all I’m going to say.

Anyhow. You know, Glen, you might be on to something. After your last letter, I did some checking around, and the fact of the matter is that we don’t have a department in charge of publicity or advertising or whatever. Which I guess makes sense, since it turns out that the Kor’kron aren’t exactly in the habit of making public announcements about what they’re doing. At least not if they know what’s good for them.

Now, to tell you the truth, I hadn’t really given a lot of thought to advertising the blog. I mean, I always figured people would just find their way to the blog however people do shit like that on the internet. And I remember having a conversation with Faranell once about it maybe going viral. Although, looking back on it now, considering it WAS Faranell, I think I might have severely misunderstood what he was meant. I maybe shouldn’t think about that too much.

But back to your real point. You may be right — it might be a good idea to come up with ways to drive some more traffic to the blog. And here’s the thing — your tabard idea could actually be even more of a winner than you realize, because check it out, it opens the door not only for ADVERTISING, but also… MERCHANDISING. Tabards sound like a great way to start, and they’ll sure as hell get the word around, but who knows how much other stuff we could get into. Hell, even just with the tabards, if we produce a bunch of different versions, do you REALIZE how many compulsive collectors are out there who will go fucking NUTS trying to hunt down every last variation? Dude, I’ve seen it myself — people burning up hours of time and mountains of gold to try to land themselves, say, a scorpid pet that’s a SLIGHTLY different color than the seven scorpid pets they ALREADY FRIGGING HAVE. I can only imagine what some of them would do for the RARE CHASE VARIANT of the Garrosh blog tabard. Wait, did I say “rare”? FUCK THAT SHIT — EPIC!

So, yeah, HELL YEAH, run with this idea, Glen. You have some ideas, go for it, man. And hey, for that matter, I know you said you haven’t got any artistic skills, but AS IT HAPPENS, I may just have an in with some people who DO. Not just in-house, either, if you were thinking of Gurtash — WHO YOU WOULD BE RIGHT TO THINK. OF. — but even among the ranks of my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS. I’ll bet you anything that there are people among the CLEARLY TALENTED AND DISCRIMINATING CROWD that reads the Warchief’s Command Board who would be ONLY TOO HAPPY to offer their own artsy-fartsy designs for WCB tabards. ESPECIALLY WHEN I ORDER THEM TO AND REMIND THEM THAT I HAVE A TECH GOBLIN HACKER WHO’S ABLE TO TRACE IP’S. WHICH I TOTALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE BUT HE DOES AND THAT’S WHAT COUNTS, OKAY?

 

And on that note, I think it’s time to wrap it up for this mailbag. Keep those letters coming as always. For next time, though, since I’m going to be pretty swamped with stuff in Pandaria, I managed to convince Shayari to hold down the fort again for the next mailbag. So, write in to her, or still write in to me for the next time I’m able to field your letters myself. Either way, write SOMETHING. Ideally MULTIPLE somethings. I WILL BE TAKING DOCUMENTARY ATTENDANCE, MOTHERFUCKERS.

More soon.

 

[PROGRAMMING NOTE: As you can tell from Garrosh’s announcement, the next mailbag will be a guest mailbag with Shayari. However, I also wanted to announce that I’ve decided to take a short break at the end of the month that will affect the upcoming mailbag schedule. As many of you will remember, the last few years I’ve taken a blogging break late in the summer due to a busy work schedule; this year, I’ve decided to move that hiatus up to earlier in the summer and use some of that time to get material in the pipeline.

So, blog hijinks will continue as usual through the end of May, then we’ll be off for a few weeks. Then, on July 11 (since the first Monday in July this year is a holiday, I figured there was no harm in pushing it back for one more week), we’ll be back with Shayari’s guest mailbag, and from there we’ll be off and running.

As always, thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, and contributing!]

 

 

Lineage

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Everything’s in order for me to head back to Pandaria to check on things down there. Mokvar’s coming along this time so he can test out his theory about using his crystal thingy to control the sha. Meanwhile, I need to head over to the Isle of Giants with General Nazgrim and make sure he and his people don’t make any more of a comedy show of their whole dino-taming operation than they already have. Plus, I need to reconnect with that Elder Cloudfall guy over at Tian Monastery. We have some unfinished business to tend to that got put on the shelf for way too long.

We’re leaving in the morning. But before that happens, speaking of unfinished business, first I have a promise to keep. To tell a pretty long story.

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C44_Page_4* Long-time readers will remember the Mother’s Day arc, in which Garrosh was reunited with his long-lost mother, Lakkara, whom he brought to Demon Fall Canyon to visit Grom’s burial site. No further spoilers for those who might like to go back and reread that story, but suffice to say Lakkara was not exactly what she seemed. (And, before someone asks, yes, I know that Lords of War established that Garrosh’s mother was named Golka, but blog continuity still recognizes Lakkara as Garrosh’s mother. Just roll with it for now — there is A Plan.™ I promise it’ll all make sense eventually.)

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#500 GIANT-SIZED (not really) ANNIVERSARY (kind of) SPECIAL

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Okay, people, I know we’ve got a hell of a lot going on these days on a whole bunch of fronts, but let’s get our damn priorities straight and take a moment to APPRECIATE THE GODDAMN AWESOMENESS OF ME.

Why, you ask? AS IF YOU NEED A REASON. But okay, fine, be that way. Even though you should already be in a constant state of awe over your Warchief, today marks an EXTRA SPECIAL awesome, awe-inspiring, awful… wait. I think I just took a wrong turn there.

IT’S A SPECIAL GODDAMN OCCASION IS WHAT I’M SAYING.

Reason being, the post you see before you marks the 500th BLOG POST here on the Warchief’s Command Board. That’s right, bitches, 500 posts — that’s FIVE ZERO ZERO. Go ahead and count ’em. I KNOW YOU WON’T.

But that’s where we are, people — 500 installments of EVERYBODY’S FAVORITE BLOG EVER. And riddle me this: have you read them all?

Yeah, me neither.

I mean, there were a bunch in there by guest posters like Spazzle and Mokvar, and I like those guys and everything, but not enough to actually give a shit about what they have to say about… like… anything. But whatever — like trees falling in the forest with no one there to hear them, those guests posts still… um… make a… sound when they…crash the server and… um… that is…

OKAY, THAT ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME A LITTLE, TOO. I MAY OR MAY NOT BE WORKING ON A COUPLE DRINKS, OKAY, SO STFU.

Anyhow. I’d like to thank all my loyal readers, and say that I couldn’t have done it without you. I’d LIKE to say that, but I can’t, because I totally could have. Let’s be real, scrubs, I’m the awesome one here, not you. THERE’S A REASON WHY YOU’RE READING MY BLOG AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND, NOW ISN’T THERE?

But still, the occasion calls for something special, so in keeping with this month’s theme — I DO have a Poetry Challenge in progress, after all — I figured I’d take a look back at a 500-stack of EPIC the only proper way EPIC gets done:

 

That “LOK’TAR OGAR!” that I blogged for a starter;
I met D&U, but my wyvern’s way smarter;
Krom’gar dropped a bomb, but I dropped his ass harder;
         EO gaming, “why fly” malaprop.
Twilights on a mission for that Cho’gall demon;
Ogres versus Grimtotem, and Magatha schemin’;
Johnny Awesome, beat it; Garona, keep dreamin’;
         Saurfang took a turn watching the shop.

That time I went AWOL, then I was recovered;
Grabby Mylune hugged me till I damn near smothered;
Garadar reunion with my long-lost mother;
         Year one challenge, rhymes of locks in socks.
Mom was just a cruel trick Magatha unraveled;
Trouble for Forsaken; Tirion’s endless babble;
Head to old Southshore thanks to FUCKING TIME TRAVEL;
         Human Faranell’s a paradox.

Psycho!Mylune rampaged, eyes more wild than dewy;
Edwin fucked the past up; all the timelines went screwy;
We straightened them out; Theramore went kablooey;
         Went to Karazhan to spin some tunes.
Pandas showed up teaching how anger is managed;
Got myself some trainees: DPS advantage;
Someone ganked Mokvar; he ankhed and wound up bandaged;
         Rolled up on Pandaria with my goons.

Gurtash started drawing; Vol’jin stopped his breathing;
Cloudfall spoke of destiny and got me near believing;
Mokvar met Magatha, that one had me seething;
         He went off the grid — he’d best run far.
Lor’the’whatsit’s bitching still; I got pounced by Tak;
Snagged the Divine Bell; that’s when Jaina blew her stack;
DPS got lost, but I (mostly) got them back;
         Meet my daughter, Shay. (Have a cigar.)

Shay’s mage class was hard, her sucker punch was hardest;
Mokvar reappeared with green fire from the Black Harvest;
Gurtash got blindsided, we were down an artist;
        Made an offer Blackfuse can’t refuse.
Green-eyed wolf named Golmash acting pretty fishy;
Gurtash still needs training not to be so squishy;
Utvoch got promoted, but I kinda wish he
         And Dontrag weren’t always so confused.

EPIC VERSE and lemon squares, endless reader mail;
Ruekie getting ruekied; eternal minion fail;
Mortimer’s a badass; Shayari’s hunting sales;
         Earth Online guild chat is always strange.
FYV; #LadiesLoveMe, ’cause they’re not slumming;
Trolls are always trolling, dumbasses are dumbing;
500 down so far, a thousand more coming!
         Okay, maybe. Times could always change.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

Keep checking in, people. The EPIC DROPS are only just warming up.

LOK’TAR!

 

Worg in sheep’s clothing

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Mokvar’s been keeping me posted on his research into the Golmash situation, and needless to say I don’t like the sound of this one bit. I finally decided it was time for me to go over to have a look at this wolf personally. Mokvar came with, since he’s already deep into the situation, plus Shayari decided she was going to tag along, mainly because I think she heard me talking about going over to the Hunter’s Hall and got the idea in her head that maybe it was like a petting zoo or some shit. Granted, it’s not like she’s got any part in this business, but I’ve already learned how little good it goes to try to get her to stay put when she’s got her mind set on going somewhere. (I really was hoping that would skip a generation.)

So the bunch of us headed over to the Hunter’s Hall this morning. That also marks the first time I’ve gotten to have a little face time with Ogunaro Wolfrunner, after having had a fair bit of contact with him through his mailbag letters. Good guy, make no mistake, but yeah, Mokvar wasn’t kidding, dude could not be more earnest if he tried. I can see why his kid grew up seriously needing to unclench a little. Speaking of whom, Corkrok passed his om’riggor since last we heard. Good on him. No surprise, of course — he seemed plenty driven. I can already tell he’s going to be a regular laugh riot for Overlord Runthak, though, when the kid hitches on with his trainee unit.

Anyhow, on to the main event.

So the plan was twofold — one, for me to have a look for myself at this wolf and see what the hubbub is about, between Ogunaro’s reports and Mokvar’s creeped-out investigations and his suspicion there might actually be someone in there. And two, to move Golmash over to a special pen I’ve had set up at the Kor’kron stables, where he can be kept isolated and under close observation, as opposed to the general stables we have open to the public at the Hunter’s Hall.

Part one went smoothly enough, even if it was disturbing. As per my orders, Ogunaro had Golmash isolated from the other wolves. I’d heard plenty about him, but this was my first time seeing him with my own eyes. Ogunaro and Mokvar weren’t kidding about how creepy this wolf is. On paper, I wouldn’t have figured that the green glow in his eyes would be as unnerving as it is, but the more you watch him, the more disturbing it seems. It doesn’t even jump right out at you — you can miss it if you aren’t really watching, but once you notice it, it’s like you can’t look away. Green and glowing, with that dull haze that somehow manages to glow and look dead at the same time. I wouldn’t have thought that combination was possible. (Then again, D&U manage to keep themselves alive while, you know, being D&U, so that probably shows all you need to know about seeming contradictions. If you don’t have a taste for paradox, you better not try taking life straight.)

It’s a weird coincidence that Ogunaro decided to name the wolf after my grandfather, the first to carry the name Hellscream. Golmash (the original, not the four-legged knockoff) died in the jaws of a giant gronn — but not before he drove Gorehowl into the giant’s skill to bring it down with him. I almost hate to admit it, but if it wasn’t for this whole creepy fel-tinged level to what’s going on, I would even think the name was fitting — one look and you get the feeling that if Gruul tried to swallow this wolf, he’d probably claw his way right out of Gruul’s mouth, up through his eye, and probably rip out his brain while he was at it.

So that was part one.

Part two ended up being more complicated than I was counting on. We already had a couple Kor’kron beastmasters on hand at Ogunaro’s place, keeping an eye on Golmash, and I had a couple other sent over to meet us when I went to pay my visit. Plus I made a point of putting extra guards around the Valley of Honor, and cleared a route from the Hunter’s Hall to the Kor’kron stables. So you would THINK that would be enough to handle the damn mutt.

YOU WOULD BE WRONG.

We might have had plans to transport Golmash over to the location, but Golmash had no such plans to go anywhere, and evidently when the best-laid plans of worgs and orcs run into each other, what oft goes awry is any delusion I might have had of getting things done quickly so I can grab an early lunch. Because that just would have been too fucking convenient.

According to Ogunaro, Golmash had been kind of ornery when he moved him into his current pen as per my instructions, but the wolf ultimately went along with it. Apparently, though, the furball was getting crankier by the day. The Kor’kron beastmasters tried to maneuver him along the exit path we’d planned, but Golmash was having none of it. At one point, two of the beastmasters tried to direct Golmash along with training prods, but even that wound up being a bad idea — he lunged right past the prods and onto one of the beastmasters. And I mean, I guess he probably didn’t NEED that arm, strictly speaking — it was just his left, after all — but it still has to be a drag being short one. Unless he came from the Shattered Hand clan, in which case, you know, either overdue or ironic, depending on how you look at it. He still fared better, though, than another one of the beastmasters who tried to help pull Golmash off him, because… well, the less said about that the better. The word “entrails” comes to mind.

So right about then, I was having one of my need-better-minions moments, what with multiple supposed “beastmasters” not exactly fully specced into actual beast mastery, and one of them apparently not having put any points into survival, either. Or I WOULD have been having one of those moments if it weren’t for the fact that I was busy dealing with a suddenly highly agitated, seemingly fel-compromised worg that may or may not be carrying some heretofore unknown spiritual cargo that makes KILLING him a non-starter even if DON’T TEMPT ME, while finding myself short one-and-a-quarter beastmasters, with Ogunaro running around the place swapping out his 3/3 Enhanced Earnestness to respec deep into Freakout while he tried to keep the surrounding pens under control, what with Golmash’s antics having gotten a whole bunch of the OTHER nearby stabled animals all riled up and agitated. And granted, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve found myself in a minion-related situation that I would compare to being a zoo, but come the fuck ON, universe, this is making it a little on-the-nose even for me.

So it was right around this point, when I was finally coming to the realization that yelling at the gaggle of panicking fuckers to pull their heads out of their asses and HANDLE it, that Shayari of all people actually had the presence of mind to pop a rapid-fire polymorph on Golmash. Which was pretty clutch, I’ve gotta say. Must be the Hellscream blood. (I even said something to her to that effect, but that just got her curious about family history and asking questions about Grom, but I managed to sidestep THAT long story by promising to tell her about it once we weren’t hip-deep in stupidity. I figure that oughta buy me at least a month or two.)

Anyhow, at THAT point, getting the wolf moved was a fairly simple task, since even those beastmasters — whose job title I’m seriously beginning to reconsider on grounds of irony — managed not to have too much trouble transporting a fucking sheep a little ways across town. And if the lot of them felt kind of embarrassed strolling through Orgrimmar in their badass Kor’kron armor and toting heavy-duty don’t-fuck-with-me weaponry while providing armed escort to a fucking SHEEP, well you know what? GOOD. Maybe next time, if they want to stroll around looking all hardcore, they should maybe figure out a way to STAY ON TOP OF THE HARDCORE-TYPE ASSIGNMENTS.

Ugh.

So. Wolf is under wraps in a controlled environment, is what I’m saying.

Or so I’d like to think. But, you know, based on recent field results, who knows. I’ll say this, all these trainees we’ve got coming up through the ranks are going to have all fucking kinds of room for career advancement right quick. Now if you’ll excuse me, in the meantime, I think I need to go put a “Jobs Available” post on Kragslist.

More soon.

 

Identity crisis

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So, I got a comment from Khizzara on that last mailbag that kind of got me thinking. See, she looked at the picture Sarlin sent with her letter about running into Dontrag and Utvoch in Ashenvale, and how it looks like they have their names floating over their heads, which they actually DON’T and it just looked that way because Sarlin did some kind of thingy-whatsy with the picture after the fact. Which is kind of a dumb thing not to recognize right off, especially from someone like Khizzara who’s supposed to be a mage and smart and stuff, but maybe her int buff isn’t working or some shit. Or maybe Spazzle just got the brains in the family. Whatever.

Anyhow, though, that comment got me thinking about how handy it would be if those two DID have their names hovering over their heads, because let’s face it, Khizzara DOES have a point about how nobody can tell the Wonder Twins apart. And granted, in my case, that’s at least partly due to me not really giving a shit, but still. It’ll save at least a couple headaches.

I figured I’d see about getting some actual return on my investment in all these mage lessons Shayari’s been getting from Faranell over in the Undercity, so I gave her a new project to work on: casting a glamor spell (she liked the sound of that a lot more before I spelled out what I meant) on Dontrag and Utvoch that actually WOULD make their names float over their heads. Turns out, that kind of a spell wasn’t even all that complicated to put together.

Hold your horses. You know what usually happens around here when something looks like smooth sailing.

So Shay tried her spell out yesterday, and at first everything seemed to be going fine. “Dontrag” hovering over Dontrag (I think), “Utvoch” hovering over Utvoch (I believe), and, so far as the spell was to be believed, 70% less confusion about which of those idiots was which, and a residual 30% reduction in how much I needed to smack them around. Which I know is a lot less than the 70%, but come on, they’re still dumb and annoying, right? NO JURY WOULD CONVICT ME.

So that seemed to be going fine. But then, after a little while, the spell started going haywire. As in, it kept putting the names over Dumb and Dumber’s heads, but it started switching them around — putting “Dontrag” over Utvoch and “Utvoch” over Dontrag. Now, mind you, I didn’t really notice this myself right away, largely because recognizing the problem would require me to care enough about which of them is which, and I mean, if I could just LOOK at those two and know who was D and who was U, I wouldn’t NEED the damn glamor in the first place, right? But at one point while Shay was tinkering with the spell, Taktani bounced by, and don’t ask me how but she always seems to be able to keep those two idiots straight. I don’t know, she’s a cat most of the time, so maybe her kitty-sense tingles or something. Point is, the names started switching around. Why, I don’t know. Maybe Shay forgot to cross some T’s and dot some I’s setting up the spell. Maybe the sheer AURA OF FAILURE that surrounds those two is so potent that it even makes magic break down after a while. Maybe they’re just so damn indistinguishable that even the UNIVERSE ITSELF gets confused eventually, magic or no. Don’t ask me, I just work here.

Thing is, that wasn’t even the worst of it. Because, see, obviously the glamor was visible to EVERYONE, right? So the Wonder Twins themselves could read each other’s arcane name tags, but then, when the spell started going wonky and mixing them up, THE IDIOTS THEMSELVES started getting all distressed and confused and thinking THEY had it wrong, and maybe they weren’t really who they thought they were. And this led to like an hour and a half of Dontrag worrying that he might actually be Utvoch, and Utvoch getting an ulcer thinking he’s been living a lie when he should have been Dontrag, until finally I had to bonk their damn heads together to shut them up because who needs to to listen to that shit.

So while they were out cold, I had Shay lift the damn spell. It’s just not fucking worth it if it’s not even going to work half the time, and just gives those two one more thing to yammer about. Hell, who the fuck would have guessed that one little would-be hocus-pocus convenience would result in a pair of blithering mental defectives having a full-on existential crisis?

So yeah. Back to the drawing board. Moving on.

More soon.

 

Commiseration

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Brand loyalty

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One last quick followup to the whole Pandaren Noodle Festival thing from the other day (where, I’ll have you know, my spicy talbuk noodles went over pretty damn well before D&U-plus-one managed to fall ass-backwards into a new and better form of post-felweed munchie food).

One thing from the festival that I’ve had rattling around in the ol’ noggin ever since then was when Ji was telling us about some Pandaren cooking contest called Iron Chef, and then Mokvar chimed in with the idea of doing our own version called Iron Horde Chef. Among some other possible names he kind of stumbled his way through. Which just goes to show you that Mokvar didn’t have the good sense to recognize the one real winner and latch onto it, which ONCE AGAIN shows you why yours truly is in charge around here.

Anyhow, the point of this isn’t the cooking contest thing, but that idea Mokvar had for a name. Because seriously, how badass does “Iron Horde” sound? IF YOU WERE THINKING “EXTREMELY BADASS, GARROSH,” THEN CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE CORRECT. And so, even though Shayari thought she was being funny with her little comment about rebranding, JOKE’S ON YOU, DOELING, because that’s exactly what I went and looked into. BECAUSE HOW AWESOME WOULD THAT SOUND, SERIOUSLY? Had a talk with Eitrigg this afternoon about how a name change would work in the books. And, hey, let me finish it this way, seeing as I’m still in kind of an EPIC VERSEy kind of mood after that last mailbag

 

I took it to my numbers guy and left him really pensive
To wrack his brain and make a try at changes so extensive,
So sweeping, spanning, nationwide, systemic, comprehensive,
That if they ever were applied, the win would be intensive.
I rallied reasons that I scried and argued in defense of
My badass plan, but woe betide: old man’s counteroffensive:
The filing, fees, and forms beside, red tape you can’t make sense of
Reveal the fact, can’t be denied — that shit ain’t inexpensive.

EPIC VERSE!

 

I mean, you wouldn’t think changing over all the stationery and business cards would cost that much, BUT YOU WOULD BE WRONG. And that’s not even figuring in little miss you-know-who’s latest shopping trip.

Dammit, Eitrigg. Guess I better toss a few more Brawler’s Guild invites up on the AH.

More soon.