Tag Archives: shayari
Monday mailbag
Okay, time to dip into the ol’ mailbag. You all know how this works, so here we go…
Thank you so much for your generous response. Lyssa was so happy that she got a little frisky, which always makes me happy, you know what I mean. š (She is a cat most of the time, after all.) I sympathize with your frustrations due to expenditures- having been a mother myself once (back when I was still “alive”, though not anymore, may the Goddess curse that human Arthas), I know all about the kinds of bills teens can ring up. (You really do need huge heaping mounds of gold. Like, a dragon’s hoard worth.)
In appreciation, please find enclosed your very own PMS device. It is soft and fluffy and purrs very convincingly, and it may prove a distraction for Shayari as well, if she likes kittens. (Especially if it is wearing a bow or ribbons.)
PMS? That stands for Personal Mylune Survival device. Why? What did you think it meant?
In any event, having been told that the idiot human Varian sometimes reads these letters and your responses, I have a message for him.
Varian- Fuck you! You are a moron- when a ten-thousand year old-plus matriarch (that means ruler) of an entire race of people (two, if you count my ancestors) nods and asks you to tell her what to do, she is NOT SERIOUS, she is MOCKING YOU. Do you really think that you have seen more combat, acquired more experience, discovered more tactics, and learned more strategy than her in all her years? She even only tolerates Malfurion (on the rare occasions when he stops napping) because his furry bear feet keep her toes warm- she has plenty of other options in a nation where the men usually and regularly go into comas for centuries.
From TWO Elven nations: FUCK YOU, VARIAN! (Also, I think Mylune would be a perfect wife for you. Or maybe Magatha.)
(Apologies to you, Dear Warchief, I’ll try to keep it shorter next time, if there is one)
–Sintra E’Drien (and her mate Lyssa Nightblossom)
ps. Thalassian Brandy tastes very good. š
Hey again, Sintra. Okay, so you know what? There were a bunch of things in this letter that I was going to respond to, but they all kind of got lost in this big blur of FUCK YOU, VARIAN. Especially the part about Tyrande Whoās-Her-Whisper actually mocking olā King Ponytail when he thinks heās being all badass and shit. And the part about him being a moron. And the part about him getting paired off with Mylune. Mind you, if miracles of entertainment happened and Varian DID get himself hitched to Mylune, weād have to make sure that nobody hooked him up with one of those PMS devices, because we canāt rob ourselves of the hilarity by letting Varian distract her with something small and furry. Plus, trust me, Iāve met Varian — dude has enough PMS all by himself, without anybody sending him the anti-Mylune device.
Although, this does occur to me, there might be a market in developing a line of anti-whoever gear. Like the Mylune one is a no-brainer — make something small and furry that makes cutesy purring noises, then when you see Mylune, toss it one direction and get your ass moving in another. Golden. But you could totally market a bunch of these. Like you could build an anti-Tirion device thatās like a mannequin with a face that looks all interested, that plays a recording of someone going āTell me more! I want to hear all about it!ā Or you could do an anti-Velen device thatās just a big sign that says āBurning Legion invading — planetary exit this way!ā Or you could do an anti-Magatha device that basically consists of Gorehowl chopping her into little tiny pieces because fuck her.
Obviously, Iām just spitballing here.
Oh, and also: agreed on the Thalassian Brandy.
Greetings, Warchief, and Light’s blessing to you!
As that last letter caused quite a stir, what with a possible war on my hands, as well as having to use an ink substitute (it’s scorpion poison, so don’t lick it!) I’m afraid that I cannot convey quite as much information onto you as I would like. But, as literal a lady as I may be, I have picked up the hints and I have no doubt that this is exceptionally great news to you! Nonetheless, I still have time to explain the situation before I begin.
I have my ways and means regarding paper, the first being the nearby logging camp. Did you know that place was infested with spiders quite a bit, recently? Now, I am a woman of few fears, and I am hesitant to say that spiders are among those few fears. They just have too many legs. The natives of Azeroth have proven that only two is necessary! Not to mention they have no real function other than devour more threatening prey, but even so, that’s disgusting and they are as good as abberations to me. Nonetheless, the spiders have been vanquished and our lumber is safe again! Not that it never was, of course. I simply no longer fear strolling down and requesting more wood for paper! Since the Kal’dorei have no authorities over the wood in the Western Plaguelands, I think I shouldn’t have to worry too much about a war. As a precaution, I asked both my lovely Anaria Moonseeker and Miss L’Rayne why the forests were so sacred to them. They both laughed and I never really got my answer. Of course, we were all after a few cups at the time, so I might try approaching them again when we’re sober. Nothing against my fellow Crusader or my sweet lady, not to mention the woman who raised me, but Night Elves are a peculiar people. Mind you, if they started ravaging Eversong Woods, I’d be miffed. I also am aware that this may draw the Night Elves’ attention back to yourself, but I’m sure you have the means to deal with it. After all, there are several Horde leaders but only one Warchief!
As for the scorpion poison, well, there are ways of compressing that to make it more visible on paper. It’s the same colour as the ink that I used before, thanks to a solution Anaria prepared, but it can still be toxic if you were to eat it. Since I’ve used it quite finely, you may simply experience some disorientation or sickness, but I don’t see that that being a problem, unless you eat paper. I just thought I’d let you in on that, in case you DID eat paper. Who am I to judge the Warchief’s culinary preferences? This piece of paper would be better off being tucked away and not eaten. I still have a fine stock of that scorpion poison, so now it’s only a matter of keeping the lumber mill going! I thought that this would be sufficient as a substitute for the ink that is slowly becoming less obtainable. I hope that the lovely young shaman Rue’kara can get her stationaries back soon! How unfortunate that her own letters are limited to such a pulp. She probably has so much to say, poor child. Anyhow! That’s that, and all problems solved!
It would seem a certain metal-beared goblin had quite a bit to say regarding my letters to you, sir. I, for one, am irate, but the ways of the Light have taught me that anger and resentment will only lead to a manifestation of regret and ever-building hatred, so I will bury the hatchet for now and try not to reference said goblin while the Light grants me the strength to repress such hatred. While this anger is still surging mightily, I have to agree on one point that he made; I haven’t really been of much help, have I?
Well, even though I was not present, I know of your visits to Hearthglen through the town chatter, even though I was oblivious of the events that were taking place. See, I was travelling at the time, which I tend to do every few months or so, and when I came back, I did notice a sort of difference. A kind of hush, as though I’d just arrived after a tragic event had taken place. I felt inclined to ask the Highlord, and I did, but even he was at a loss for words, and that is truly saying something. I mean, really. Time travel is…something I am somewhat familiar with. That being said, I know of a bronze dragon, although the identity is to be kept secret for her sake. I haven’t actually travelled backwards through time, nor forwards, but I visited the Caverns of Time, and I saw some of the rifts here and there pulling and tugging, as though the place felt a turn when I entered it. Somehow, I feel slightly connected to it. It’s a sensation that I cannot describe well, but there’s a familiarity about it that I am trying to make sense of, as though I’d been there before. Maybe an alternate me? Wow, I wonder what she does for a living. My bronze friend gave me a little information on how time works, and how she’s travelled on it previously, but as you may have learned, bronze dragons are as cryptic as any old soothsayer or rambling prophet, (which is extremely annoying since they might actually have ANSWERS for us, whereas prophets just ramble on and on and on…) and since I can’t get any answers from her regarding that particular feeling, I have dropped the matter entirely and haven’t been there since. Still, I’ve never stopped wondering…
While this is irrelevant to what you and this doctor Faranell you mentioned had to experience, I simply want to extend a warning, given everything I have learned thus far through my readings of history. The Old Gods corrupted one Aspect, Deathwing, but he was not the only one that was used to their advantage. The Old Gods want nothing more than to see our world in endless agony, and so they invaded Nozdormu’s realm and succeeded in opening a rift in time, so that they could alter the events of the War of the Ancients and give the dark lord, Sargeras, a fresh attempt to enter the world. If not for the efforts of Malfurion Stormrage, these cursed entities would have succeeded, and Azeroth would have been lost to madness. The Bronze Dragonflight are a mighty race, sir, but we all have our weaknesses, even Nozdormu himself. Had he suspected such a travesty, he surely would have prevented it.
We know that there are multiple timelines out there, and we know that, without the assistance of the Bronze Dragonflight, the events of the entwined timeways wouldn’t have been resolved. Be wary, good sir. You must place your trust in those you know can be trusted, and no-one else. If the Bronze Dragonflight fell to the same corruption as Neltharion, our world would be undone as you know it. After all, Algalon had already decided that it wasn’t worth saving. Let us prove him wrong. Let us protect Azeroth as best we can.
With regards to being of any use to you, I’d merely have you know that I do not plan on leaving Hearthglen for quite some time, so should you decide to make a visit in the meantime, know that I shall stand at your service and grant you the hospitality which you seek. It’s the least I can do. Thank you for your time.
P.S Did you really get a Zandaliri troll to perform a lapdance for you? How much did it cost?
Go in peace, good sir.
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade
Hoo boy. Here we go.
Hello again, Sarlin. Nice to…hear from you. Again.
As that last letter caused quite a stir,
As in, people stirring up poisonous drinks to kill themselves with.
what with a possible war on my hands,
Well, you know, the many, many trees youāve wiped out to make paper were only going to take so much.
as well as having to use an ink substitute (it’s scorpion poison, so don’t lick it!)
I really wonder what you think I do with my time that you felt this warning was necessary.
I’m afraid that I cannot convey quite as much information onto you as I would like.
Oh thank the spirits. Maybe weāll manage to be in and out of here in less than a month.
Nonetheless, I still have time to explain the situation before I begin.
Well, so much for that idea. Here we go, kids. Grab a drink, and maybe a snack, and maybe the next two or three daysā meals, and strap in.
Did you know that place was infested with spiders quite a bit, recently? Now, I am a woman of few fears, and I am hesitant to say that spiders are among those few fears. They just have too many legs. The natives of Azeroth have proven that only two is necessary!
Dude, I fucking hate spiders. Theyāre all gross and crawly and, like you said, they have way more legs than any self-respecting person should ever have, and letās not even get started on the eyes. I fucking hate things with creepy extra eyes. Plus there was that time up in Stonetalon when the head troll dude in Malakaājin told me there was some Queen Silith who wanted to meet with me, only GUESS WHAT, turns out she was this GIANT FUCKING SPIDER. LONG LIVE THE FUCKING QUEEN. Except for the part where I killed her.
As a precaution, I asked both my lovely Anaria Moonseeker and Miss L’Rayne why the forests were so sacred to them. They both laughed and I never really got my answer.
Itās the glitter. Night elves love them some glitter, and the trees in their forests leak the stuff like sap. Someday I want to find out just what the fuck is the deal with that, like what kind of trees ooze fucking GLITTER out of their bark, and why they only seem to grow around nigh elves.
I mean, Iām pretty sure Thalassian Brandy would like to know. She could have a personalĀ supply of the stuff right there on hand.
As for the scorpion poison, well, there are ways of compressing that to make it more visible on paper. It’s the same colour as the ink that I used before, thanks to a solution Anaria prepared, but it can still be toxic if you were to eat it. Since I’ve used it quite finely, you may simply experience some disorientation or sickness, but I don’t see that that being a problem, unless you eat paper.
Waitā¦ disorientation? You mean to say you can be HIGH on this shit? No wonder there are always so many trolls always hanging around the inscription place in the Drag.
I hope that the lovely young shaman Rue’kara can get her stationaries back soon! How unfortunate that her own letters are limited to such a pulp. She probably has so much to say, poor child.
Yeah, you know what? I think youāve got the āso much to sayā pretty well covered. Letās not drag Ruekie into this.
It would seem a certain metal-beared goblin had quite a bit to say
Hi, pot. This is Sarlin. Youāre black.
I, for one, am irate, but the ways of the Light have taught me that anger and resentment will only lead to a manifestation of regret and ever-building hatred,
The next time you two chat, could you ask the Light what the fuck itās talking about?
I have to agree on one point that he made; I haven’t really been of much help, have I?
Oh geez, why do I get the feeling sheās about to start Dontragging? Like, even more?
I was travelling at the time, which I tend to do every few months or so, and when I came back, I did notice a sort of difference. A kind of hush, as though I’d just arrived after a tragic event had taken place. I felt inclined to ask the Highlord, and I did, but even he was at a loss for words, and that is truly saying something. I mean, really.
STOP THE FUCKING PRESSES, SHOCKING NEWS WITH AN IRONIC LOOK-WHOāS-TALKING CHASER
I haven’t actually travelled backwards through time, nor forwards, but I visited the Caverns of Time, and I saw some of the rifts here and there pulling and tugging, as though the place felt a turn when I entered it. Somehow, I feel slightly connected to it. It’s a sensation that I cannot describe well, but there’s a familiarity about it that I am trying to make sense of, as though I’d been there before. Maybe an alternate me? Wow, I wonder what she does for a living.
Iāll bet you anything sheās not a mime.
We know that there are multiple timelines out there, and we know that, without the assistance of the Bronze Dragonflight, the events of the entwined timeways wouldn’t have been resolved. Be wary, good sir.
Dude, are you seriously giving ME a speech on not getting mixed up in timeline fuck-uppery? Hey, Iāve got an idea, how about I get Faranell in here and you can give him a whole speech about making sure he doesnāt get himself unstuck in time for like a zillion years. Earth Online says hello:
With regards to being of any use to you, I’d merely have you know that I do not plan on leaving Hearthglen for quite some time,
Well at least I know where not to go for the next month or two.
Thank you for your time.
Well you fucking well burned up enough of it.
Speaking of which. When you write back — BECAUSE I KNOW YOU WILL — you are officially getting the modified Twitter treatment. Are you reading carefully? Go grab some of your not-for-snack-time paper and scorpion ink, and write this down: YOU ARE OFFICIALLY ON A 250-WORD LIMIT FOR ALL FUTURE LETTERS. Or, what the hell, if you want to go OVER 250 words, whatever, knock yourself out, but I am going to STOP READING at word #250. Are we clear on this? Are we good? Okay? Good.
Fucking hell. I donāt get paid enough for this job. I really donāt.
Greetings once again Warchief Hellscream. I come bearing ill tidings from Towlong Steppes. I was out leading some of your Horde adventurers through and giving them a Lay of the land while on the way for clean up duty on the Isle of Thunder. Along the way, we passed by a giant eel, G’nathus. The undead warrior and orc shaman decided that it might be a bit of fun to go and test themselves against such a creature. I agreed, if only to keep them alive against such a beast. At first, it seemed to go very well. The warrior took electrocution like nothing I had ever seen before! Then a squid came from nowhere and decided to see if my totems were filled with beer (they’re keg-shaped, you see)! That sadly broke all my concentration and we were forced to flee, but not without some injuries. The poor shaman was smacked around, almost worse than the warrior! Thank the Celestials for ahnks, by the way!
Before this old man babbles for too much longer, I must regretfully inform you that the Shado-Pan has decided to bill the Horde for the loss of precious reagents and my totems. Not that I require the financial compensation, but Lord Zhu insists! Really! He started going on about the outsiders bringing ruin to our land again. It is a very…tiring speech.
Regretfully yours,
–Shen Wei Pureblossom
You do not get to talk about ātiring speechesā immediately after Sarlinās letter.
That saidā¦ Hang on, you mean Iām getting stuck with ANOTHER bill? Is this how things work for that panda-Tirion Zhu guy? Something happens that you donāt like, so you ring up an itemized list to send along to whoever you can? Not to mention, I just finished LOOKING OVER the aforementioned itemized list, and are you fucking KIDDING me? What are your totems fucking MADE of, diamonds?! I thought they were listing the price in coppers when I saw that shit. What the fuck is the exchange rate down there? Does 500 gold mean something different to you people than it does up here? Did you fucking switch to the metric system or some shit? WTF?!
And letās not even get STARTED on the reagents! Iām going over this list, and there is LITERALLY nothing on here that I canāt walk over to the Valley of Wisdom and buy for pocket change. DONāT BELIEVE ME, COME ON BY. DISCOUNT ANKHS ON ME.
Actually.
Hang on.
It just occurred to me — if this invoice of yours even REMOTELY resembles the actual prices of reagents down there in Pandaria, and itās not just Zhuās-his-face gouging me with like an 8000% markup, this might be an opportunity to put a dent in the olā Shayari-induced cash flow problem. Because if I can buy this shit HERE for like 20 silver a pop, then bring it on down to Pandaria and sell it to you pandas for a hundred times that, and STILL be way below Scarf Boyās asking priceā¦ Hmmā¦
Spirits help me, Iām starting to think like a goblin. CONGRATULATIONS, UNIVERSE, YOU WIN AGAIN.
Meanwhile… you mean to say, you were going about your business, and a fucking SQUID came swimming over just to try to dip into your keg totems? What kind of a fucking dumbass squid is that? Is it some kind of Dontrag squid? Because that seems like something he would do. Or Utvoch. Whichever one of them it is. Maybe the other one was the eel or something. Eelvoch, maybe. Ellvoch and Dontrag-the-Squid. Why the fuck not. Seems to match up brainpower-wise.
I’m Valinora. Don’t ask any questions. I’m here for one thing and one thing only; EPIC VERSE.
I had a scroll through the mailbags and I saw a little introduction suggested by one of your readers. Hope you don’t mind if I do the same. By the way, you OWNED Varian. I dare you to go up against Thrall next time. Hate that guy. He didn’t steal anybody’s bacon, he stole all their pigs, forced them to make the bacon and then claimed to have made it himself. Ugh.
Anyway. A topic that I’m sure you’ll have no hesitation with, given your…knowledge of felweed.
“By now, he had one joint too many,”
Go!
–Valinora “Lightshorn”, Stormwind City.
Oh, hey, check it — somebody who gets right to the point. Itās like youāre the anti-Sarlin or something. First off, though:
Now granted, you didnāt exactly endear yourself to me with the Garry thing (and I mean, seriously, people, isnāt it getting old at this point? Even the basic campfire joke fizzled out faster than this) (Get it? Campfire? Fizzled out? BA DUM BUM), and plus thereās the small matter that you appear to be HUMAN. On the other hand, you DID get to the point of your letter before wiping out enough trees to render hundreds of poor disadvantaged night elf strippers glitterless, and then you topped that off by having the good sense to know a good olā EPIC VERSE thrashing of King Vajayjay when you see it. Additional kudos for getting a good jab in at Thrall, because man oh man has HE been on a one-way trip to Insufferable City. Dude might as well take his vainglorious ass over to the vaingloryhole and fucking blow himself there, at the rate heās going.
Anyway, you got to the point, you delivered a good burn on EACH side of the faction divide, and what the hell, Iām not one to pass up a chance to lay down a little EPIC VERSE. So here we go. YOU ASK, GARROSH DELIVERS.
By now, he had one joint too many.
(Point of fact, heād gone over by twenty.)
Came down with giggle fits,
Would have lost all his wits,
If to start with heād even had any.
In his stupor he thought heād go swimming,
With a head that with felweed was brimming;
So he and his buddy —
Whose mind, too, was muddy —
Jumped in while their dimwits were dimming.
So in their felweed-fueled delusion,
They swam off to sea in seclusion;
They went round and round,
And when they were found,
They managed to cause more confusion:
I donāt know how much felweed they did,
But one moron thought he was a squid,
While his buddy, with zeal,
Thought that he was an eel,
While around in the waters they slid.
So when they encountered bystanders,
They thought that theyād caught a gander
Of a beer-party kegger,
So up like a beggar,
The stupid squid chose to meander.
He made a big mess seeking brew,
Now Iām stuck with the bill for those two.
Iām pissed off, but whatever —
You know you canāt ever
Spell ādumbassā without D and U.
You asked for some rhymes, so I wrote āem,
About morons who smashed up some totems.
Theyāre going to need hearses —
At least some good nurses,
āCause theyāre gonna get stabbed in their scrotums.
EPIC VERSE!
Okay, thatās going to do it for this time. As always, keep those letters coming!
[Next mailbag DecemberĀ 7! E-mail the Warchief using the link at the top of the right sidebar, or use the handy form below:]
Monday mailbag
Okay, people, seems like Shayās guest mailbag from last time went over pretty well, so who knows, maybe Iāll do that again every so often. Not even with Shay, necessarily, because i donāt know how keen she would be to do those on a regular basis — as it is, I had to offer her a shopping trip in Silvermoon to get her to do that one, and thereās no fucking WAY I can afford to keep slinging those around on a monthly basis or whatever. But maybe every so often I can rope someone else into doing one, if you people have anyone else you might have questions for.
More importantly for right now, though, youāve got the main event back, so letās see what you peeps have on your minds this time around.
In my attempt to offer what seemed to me to be good advice to your beautiful and talented daughter, I believe I have offended her (and possibly you).
This troubles me, and I wish to offer to meet at your convenience to offer my personal apologies. (Lyssa doesn’t want me to go, but I think it the only proper thing to do.)
If there is any other service I may perform for you, please let me know, and until we meet, I remain your faithful follower,
–Sintra E’Drien of the Horde
Evidently, what you people have on your minds is how you can be even more exhausting than usual.
And I meanā¦ you know what? This is just a textbook example. Because, look, Sintra, I know you mean well here, and you think youāre doing the right thing, and youāre trying to be nice, and all kinds of good crap like that, but justā¦ fuck, you people are just so fucking high maintenance. Letās justā¦ look, apology accepted, okay? Weāre all good. Well, Iām good. You want to take it up with Shay, go nuts, but donāt feel like you have to update me every step of the way. And if she looks at you funny or says something that makes you think she maybe had a TONE, justā¦ just roll with it, okay? Donāt feel like you need to file a petition with the local notary public to declare every third Tuesday after a harvest moon factional What Can I Do To Make It Up To You Shayari Day.
For fuckās sake, dude, it just never fucking ends.
And speaking of things that never end…
Anar’alah! Greetings yet again, most noble Warchief of the Horde!
Many thanks for the response! I was most gratified to receive an opportunity to contact your daughter directly! Although, given her response, (and yours, now I come to think of it) I’m not sure she’s too anxious to go on that “friend-date” you mentioned, anytime soon. I wonder what the problem could be. Although it is wonderful to see that she’s settling in rather well. I have to admit, I hadn’t expected that. Somehow, I always saw Nagrand as one of the most luxurious and leisurely places that could ever be. But I guess that when you’re poor, you see things differently. Orgrimmar may not be the prettiest place in the world, but I’m probably correct in saying that Shay has more now than she once did, with her father being the Warchief and all. So, for now, that’s certainly enough.
As for your own response, I am not related to Tirion or this Grottee Metalbeard fellow. Whatever made you suggest such a thing!? Perhaps I should remind you that I am an elf and Tirion is a human. And no, I am not HALF an elf. I’ve looked it all up, and I can’t possibly have fel-tainted eyes with two pupils, one green and one slightly lighter green, long ears and eyebrows, a slim and elf-like figure and the ability to produce arcane magic without being taught if I was half-elf. So, I am not related to Highlord Fordring in any way. I think. As for Grottee Metalbeard, I don’t know who that is! It sounds very gnomish. Or goblin? One or the other, anyway. Nobody else could possibly have “Metalbeard” as a last name without being a gnome or a goblin. And, seriously, I may be slightly shorter than the average height of a Blood Elf, but if you’re suggesting that I’m related to one of THOSE things…oh, no! Oh, and if Grottee’s reading this, don’t take it the wrong way. I just don’t like gnomes or goblins. And if you’re one of those delivery guy goblins, no, I’m NOT fucking tipping you! And while we’re also on the topic, “hooked up and gave birth to this letter”? That sentence, I must say, really put a horrifying image into my head. I mean, even worse than the Thalassian Brandy strutting through Hearthglen provocatively image. Because at least she’s GOOD LOOKING, you know!? And wow, is she good looking. I mean, sometimes I still ask myself if it was a dream. It probably was. Ha, good luck hoping, Sarlin. But Tirion Fordring and a GNOME? Or a goblin or WHATEVER. I would respectfully request that, in future, you refrain from planting such a horrific image in my head again. I still haven’t a clue as to how you got the idea that we were related.
Now. I feel good that that’s off my chest.
Yes, Twitter’s character limit has been a burden for quite some time now. It’s hard to elaborate and emphasize the more important things, such as the war efforts, gnoll necromancers, magi with weird hats, stupid mages who think it’s okay to polymorph random strangers whenever they want (that was no reference to Shayari, by the way!) and Light only knows what else with that limit in the way. I thought there would be a way to break it. Click the button with -284 characters and hope it would send. Impossible. It seems we live in a world where the only way forward is brevity. How unfortunate, would you not agree?
Shayari also told me that she occasionally ports back and forth to the Undercity for mage training. Which, I mean, I’m not concerned about THAT or anything, but do you really think it’s a good idea to get her so close to the Banshee Queen? I mean, I don’t know if I’d made it at all obvious but I don’t trust that woman! I mean, hey, at least I didn’t just say “No, I don’t LIKE her, therefore nobody else will!” Besides, who actually DOES like Sylvanas? I just wonder if she’d be, you know, in a stable enviroment if she was practicing how to conjure a mana cake table and Sylvanas decided to walk in and freak out because look, it’s a Draenei. I mean, she’s already made it pretty obvious taht she doesn’t like YOU. Sylvanas, I mean. Just something for you to ponder on. Oh, and if you’re wondering, no, I haven’t had any real personal meetings with Sylvanas. There was one when I was pretty young, before I joined the Argent Dawn, but that was myself and a few other young soldiers. She just yelled at us for not killing enough humans. I got off lightly, I hadn’t killed one. Nonetheless, I worry. We had enough mayhem with the Lich King. And if my sources tell me correctly, you see little difference between her and the Lich King. I trust you to make the right decision with regards to the subject.
Oh, and before I finish up, I just have to point out that I noticed a certain Pandaren named Ben-Lin Cloudstrider is hosting anger management classes! I didn’t know that you were thinking about adopting! To be honest, I couldn’t even imagine you wanting to have children! Although I’m likely right in assuming that when Shayari finally came into your life, you realized just how much you were missing. Being a father must be the most wonderful feeling in all worlds, wouldn’t you agree? It’s a shame that you lost seventeen years of poor Shay’s life, but you can make up for that now. Are you planning on adopting a baby? Wouldn’t it be just fine, to raise a child from before they’re even a year old! Quite frankly, my girlfriend and I have had thoughts of adopting, ourselves. We just want to travel a little bit more before we do so. And we’re still trying to work out which, uh, race to adopt. I was thinking maybe a High Elf, since they’re respected by the Kal’dorei (my girlfriend’s a Night Elf) and I’m quite fond of little High Elves, too. But that’s aside the point. Are you adopting a little orc or a little troll? Maybe even a little Blood Elf? Ha, I jest. They’re truly insufferable as children.
Back to the anger management class. Is Ben-Lin still doing those? Not that I have a HUGE anger problem, only sometimes I can be irrationally irate when the sounds of birds and flapping wings and even trickling water or the wind rustling grass or twigs, just the happy old noises, decide to all sound on what is known as “the morning after the night before”. Which often includes a LOT of alcohol. Mostly mead, although I do have a Gilnean friend who supplies me with brandy occasionally. It’s rather a strong beverage, I must say. Still, it’s fine for any occasion where you just want to get pissed out of your brains. But anyway! Yes, the only downside to consuming so much alcohol is the “morning after the night before” effect which is a bi-daily event where every aspect of nature comes together and floats around my sore head shrieking with voices like nails across a shield. I mean, I don’t mind birds, but when they annoy me like that, they just HAVE to fucking die, you know what I mean? And that’s the benefit of having a bow. You don’t have to throw your sword and hope it doesn’t miss. I have to say, it’s a pretty great release of anger. You know that rage that simply cannot be repressed? Birds always seem to know when I experience it, because they glide well into firing range when I do. Keep hush on this, but once, I was aiming for an annoying bird and shot it in the wing, only to find it was actually a troll in bird form. There’s a little Cenarian Circle camp nearby, so I guessed he was from that. Don’t worry, he made it, and I don’t think he saw me either! So anyway, I’ve had to clean up bird corpses a lot recently, only I haven’t been great at cleaning up the evidence, so there’s a small pile of dead birds behind Mardenholde Keep. With some incinerated kittens, also. And even some penguins that appear to have their skulls bashed in. I guess this is soon going to be the place where people drag the corpses of dead animals that end up falling to the blade of hangovers. And look, don’t worry about sponsors. I can always get my girlfriend to sponsor me. Or Daria L’Rayne, if she’s willing. Oh, and if you’re a little concerned about Daria, regarding my letter to Shayari, don’t worry. She doesn’t have anger issues, she just gets a bit irratable, but only during the days she’s on duty. I guess being advisor is pretty stressful. Anyhow, if I was to drag her along, rest assured, she’d be totally sober. Maybe. I mean, is alcohol allowed at these places? If so, well, I could always bring along some ale or something.
And hey, even if I can’t take part in the session, can you PLEASE just all have another one anyway!? Like, seriously! Ā Do you have any fucking idea how FUNNY that was!? I mean, look, I always knew that Tirion drank quite a bit but I never actually could make sense of those corpses until I read that! Although I was a little disheartened when I went to tell everybody and they all already knew. I was like “Where the fuck was I for the last however long this has been going on for”? And oh my LIGHT, what is Mylune’s problem! I thought she loved animals! I mean, I haven’t met her many times but she does seem quite…uh, cuddly? I mean, I like hugs but gee, I think I like breathing more. Oh, heh, and I mentioned Lor’Themar to Shay, too. Tell me, was his hair perfect that day, too? Huh. He always did seem pretty calm to me. Just prissy as fuck, you know?
And also, if I might recommend it, maybe host the next one in that big gladiator’s or trial’s ring you got going on in Orgrimmar? You know, just so anybody who wants to come by for the giggles can do so. Look, I’ll stop with this suggesting nonsense and outright say that I WILL PAY YOU to do another. Even though you’re probably rich out now what with being Warchief and all. Still. I mean, if it helps, I’ll send over 10,000 gold and it might even feed a village of hungry peons, or maybe be enough to invent an elixir that will give them a brain.
I seem to have covered everything I’ve been wishing to bring up with you. I do hope that you don’t find any of this to be too demanding. I expect you have other issues to deal with besides the worries of a young Paladin, such as very incriminating photoes of dancing trolls or something. As opposed to “not so incriminating photoes”. Or “just slightly incriminating photoes”. The fel was up with THAT guy?
Oh, I did have a question! But fear not, I will be brief. What the fuck is up with Bob? Who even IS that guy? And what is his fucking PROBLEM!? Gee, I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s a troll and all (in EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD EVER) but whoa! I mean, c’mon. It’s not the just the harsh, real fact that he’s an asshole, but the more harrowing fact that he lacks a brain. The fuck. I mean, everybody KNOWS that the Lich King’s horse is “Invincible”. Invincible and INVISIBLE are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS! ARE YOU READING THIS, BOB!? YOU MIGHT LEARN A THING OR TWO! GRR, YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SO ANGRY.
Anyhow, I digress. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must replace this inkwell with a slightly larger one, since it only holds maybe just over half of the ink that I require to send out not just mailbag letters to the Horde’s Warchief, but also to stay in close contact with other friends and possibly relatives around Azeroth and Outland! It’s just rather a pain to refill it constantly.
Light’s blessing to you, noble Warchief of the Horde.
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker
I mean.
I literally donāt know how she does it. All I know is that by the time this last letter from Sarlin reached me, it had a petition attached to it, signed by nine ink vendors from all around Azeroth, asking me to declare a state of emergency due to the looming ink shortage.
Butā¦ okayā¦ hello again, Sarlin. I see you stillā¦ have a lot on your mind. Again. So, umā¦
Okay, you know what? Let me just try to cover as much of this as I can, so sheāll at least have less ammunition forĀ the NEXT time. Here goes.
Many thanks for the response! I was most gratified to receive an opportunity to contact your daughter directly! Although, given her response, (and yours, now I come to think of it) I’m not sure she’s too anxious to go on that “friend-date” you mentioned, anytime soon. I wonder what the problem could be.
Well, donāt let me speak for Shay, but it might have something to do with her irrational fear of having all the oxygen around her soaked up by a gaping vacuum of words words words, then suffocating helplessly, unable to cry out for help, because there are no words fucking left.
Orgrimmar may not be the prettiest place in the world, but I’m probably correct in saying that Shay has more now than she once did, with her father being the Warchief and all. So, for now, that’s certainly enough.
Apparently she had to leave most of her stuff behind when she left Dalaran. So…she actually doesnāt have more than she ever did, I donāt think, but…sheās working on it. I mean working HARD. Like really, REALLY hard. Let me put this in context for you: one of the perks of being Warchief is an unlimited credit account. Last week I got a notice from the goblin credit bureau that I was approaching my limit. Apparently, to teenage girls, infinity isnāt an abstraction — itās a challenge.
As for your own response, I am not related to Tirion or this Grottee Metalbeard fellow. Whatever made you suggest such a thing!?
What indeed, GarroshĀ thought, realizing he wasnāt even 10% of the way into this letter yet.
Perhaps I should remind you that I am an elf and Tirion is a human. And no, I am not HALF an elf. I’ve looked it all up, and I can’t possibly have fel-tainted eyes with two pupils, one green and one slightly lighter green, long ears and eyebrows, a slim and elf-like figure and the ability to produce arcane magic without being taught if I was half-elf. So, I am not related to Highlord Fordring in any way. I think.
Oh no, you are related to him. Maybe not by blood, but youāre related.
You may not be kin, but youāre sure as hell kindred.
As for Grottee Metalbeard, I don’t know who that is! It sounds very gnomish. Or goblin? One or the other, anyway. Nobody else could possibly have “Metalbeard” as a last name without being a gnome or a goblin. And, seriously, I may be slightly shorter than the average height of a Blood Elf, but if you’re suggesting that I’m related to one of THOSE things…oh, no!
Youāre a very literal person, Sarlin, anyone ever tell you that?
Also, just FYI, Iād lay even odds that Spazzle is tracking back your IP address as we speak. So if youāve never loaded had your inbox flooded from porn mailing lists focusing on the lurid antics of THOSE THINGSā¦ well, youāre probably about to.
Oh, and if Grottee’s reading this, don’t take it the wrong way. I just don’t like gnomes or goblins.
I donāt see how he could possibly take that the wrong way.
And while we’re also on the topic, “hooked up and gave birth to this letter”? That sentence, I must say, really put a horrifying image into my head. I mean, even worse than the Thalassian Brandy strutting through Hearthglen provocatively image. Because at least she’s GOOD LOOKING, you know!? And wow, is she good looking. I mean, sometimes I still ask myself if it was a dream. It probably was. Ha, good luck hoping, Sarlin. But Tirion Fordring and a GNOME? Or a goblin or WHATEVER. I would respectfully request that, in future, you refrain from planting such a horrific image in my head again.
You know what? You really started to save it. You looked like you were going to pull it back for a minute there, but then, nope, veered right on back to Tirion.
And for those of you wondering what sheās talking about with the whole Thalassian Brandy thing — OTHER THAN THE OBVIOUS — here, I refer you to a related question that Sarlin asked me on Ask.fm a good long while back. (I may dig up a few of my more memorable questions from that site to toss up here one of these days, tooā¦)
Yes, Twitter’s character limit has been a burden for quite some time now. It’s hard to elaborate and emphasize the more important things, such as the war efforts,
The war effort goes well so far, despite occasional tactical setbacks. The Alliance has bought itself time, but their end is inevitable. FYV (140 characters)
gnoll necromancers,
Whoa, when the hell did gnolls learn how to be necromancers? Couldnāt KelāThuzard have left well enough alone? (110 characters)
magi with weird hats,
Yo, Mok, check out the stupid hat on that mage. Wait, what? Whose mother-in-law? Damn, sorry, dude. (99 characters)
stupid mages who think it’s okay to polymorph random strangers whenever they want (that was no reference to Shayari, by the way!)
Iām sure it wasnāt a reference to Faranell either, right? Methinks she dost protest too much. (93 characters)
and Light only knows what else with that limit in the way. I thought there would be a way to break it. Click the button with -284 characters and hope it would send. Impossible. It seems we live in a world where the only way forward is brevity. How unfortunate, would you not agree?
Yeah, I think youāre hitting pay dirt there, Sarls. Donāt know how weāre gonna get by. (86 characters)
Shayari also told me that she occasionally ports back and forth to the Undercity for mage training. Which, I mean, I’m not concerned about THAT or anything, but do you really think it’s a good idea to get her so close to the Banshee Queen? I mean, I don’t know if I’d made it at all obvious but I don’t trust that woman!
I donāt trust Sylvanas so much as I trust Shayās right hook. Iād refer you to Faranell if you have any reservations about that one.
I mean, hey, at least I didn’t just say “No, I don’t LIKE her, therefore nobody else will!” Besides, who actually DOES like Sylvanas?
To be fair, Iām not necessarily the guy who should be coming down on someone for a poor showing in popularity contests.
Oh, and if you’re wondering, no, I haven’t had any real personal meetings with Sylvanas. There was one when I was pretty young, before I joined the Argent Dawn, but that was myself and a few other young soldiers. She just yelled at us for not killing enough humans.
See, right there. You just made me like Sylvanas. THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS TOO MANY DEAD HUMANS. Way to undercut your own point like two sentences later, Sarls. At this rate, you still have time to undercut at least six or seven thousand more assertions before this letter is over.
Oh, and before I finish up, I just have to point out that I noticed a certain Pandaren named Ben-Lin Cloudstrider is hosting anger management classes!
Well, Ben-Lin mostly counsels people one-on-one these days. She tried to hold a group session, but the class…didnāt go so great. At least according to most people, Ben included. Faranell, for some reason, still goes on about how awesome it was, but who knows what that guyās thinking most days. Anyway, I canāt say for sure that Benās stopped the classes altogether, but I only ever went to that one.
I didn’t know that you were thinking about adopting! To be honest, I couldn’t even imagine you wanting to have children! Although I’m likely right in assuming that when Shayari finally came into your life, you realized just how much you were missing.
Um, no, I think youāre getting the order of events mixed up. I would have cut you a little slack there if youād been one of the people caught up in all the damn time travel crap a little while back, both rounds of it — and holy crap do I never want to get mixed up with THAT kind of shit again — but as far as I know, you were just hanging out in Hearthglen all safe and secure.
But, okay, so the adoption thing was this idea I got into my head to maybe adopt Gurtash. Heād been hanging around Grommash Hold pretty regularly by then, and I was starting to work with him as a trainee, and I figured he was an orphan and all, what with his father having been killed in the line of duty up in Northrend, so I figured it might be good for me to just take him in outright. That was before Orphan Matron Battlewail decided to get all antsy and insisted I do the anger management class, and…well, that just got us into a big mess of red tape.
Anyway, that all got put on the backburner with everything going on in Pandaria, and then Shay turning up, and then the whole Mokvar thing and…you know, I donāt even want to get into it. Letās just keep moving.
Being a father must be the most wonderful feeling in all worlds, wouldn’t you agree? It’s a shame that you lost seventeen years of poor Shay’s life, but you can make up for that now. Are you planning on adopting a baby?
Iā¦ no, no, I was never looking at adopting a baby. No babies. I had one specific kid in mind. How the hell did you read up on the adoption thing and miss the part where I specified who I was going to be adopting?
Are you adopting a little orc or a little troll? Maybe even a little Blood Elf? Ha, I jest. They’re truly insufferable as children.
I have bad news for you if you think that thatās specific to blood elf children.
Back to the anger management class. Is Ben-Lin still doing those?
Asked and answered, your honor.
Not that I have a HUGE anger problem, only sometimes I can be irrationally irate when the sounds of birds and flapping wings and even trickling water or the wind rustling grass or twigs, just the happy old noises, decide to all sound on what is known as “the morning after the night before”. Which often includes a LOT of alcohol.
Iām not completely sure what the fuck youāre talking about, but iām beginning to get a vague sense that you and Tirion mesh well up there in Hearthglen in a variety of ways.
Mostly mead, although I do have a Gilnean friend who supplies me with brandy occasionally.
Thalassian, by any chance?
But anyway! Yes, the only downside to consuming so much alcohol is the “morning after the night before” effect which is a bi-daily event where every aspect of nature comes together and floats around my sore head shrieking with voices like nails across a shield. I mean, I don’t mind birds, but when they annoy me like that, they just HAVE to fucking die, you know what I mean? And that’s the benefit of having a bow. You don’t have to throw your sword and hope it doesn’t miss. I have to say, it’s a pretty great release of anger. You know that rage that simply cannot be repressed? Birds always seem to know when I experience it, because they glide well into firing range when I do.
Iām just going to tuck this little snippet away for the next time someone gets pissy with me about being grouchy and hostile with people.
And then Iām going to back away very, very carefully.
Keep hush on this, but once, I was aiming for an annoying bird and shot it in the wing, only to find it was actually a troll in bird form.
Heh. Hehehe. HeheheHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA hahaha…haā¦ hehā¦
BWAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! Heeheeā¦
Okayā¦ okayā¦ moving on…
So anyway, I’ve had to clean up bird corpses a lot recently, only I haven’t been great at cleaning up the evidence, so there’s a small pile of dead birds behind Mardenholde Keep. With some incinerated kittens, also. And even some penguins that appear to have their skulls bashed in. I guess this is soon going to be the place where people drag the corpses of dead animals that end up falling to the blade of hangovers.
Is it bad that my first thought on reading that was that if, say, an anonymous note were to find its way to Mylune, directing her to go check out whatās behind Mardenholde Keepā¦ oh man, the spectacle that might be to behold!
And hey, even if I can’t take part in the session, can you PLEASE just all have another one anyway!? Like, seriously! Ā Do you have any fucking idea how FUNNY that was!? I mean, look, I always knew that Tirion drank quite a bit but I never actually could make sense of those corpses until I read that! Although I was a little disheartened when I went to tell everybody and they all already knew. I was like “Where the fuck was I for the last however long this has been going on for”? And oh my LIGHT, what is Mylune’s problem! I thought she loved animals! I mean, I haven’t met her many times but she does seem quite…uh, cuddly? I mean, I like hugs but gee, I think I like breathing more. Oh, heh, and I mentioned Lor’Themar to Shay, too. Tell me, was his hair perfect that day, too? Huh. He always did seem pretty calm to me. Just prissy as fuck, you know?
This has been an installment in the Last Year in Garroshās Life series. But, hey, as long as Sarlin is endorsing that little exercise in unanesthetized dental surgery, here, go back and relive all the fun.
And also, if I might recommend it, maybe host the next one in that big gladiator’s or trial’s ring you got going on in Orgrimmar? You know, just so anybody who wants to come by for the giggles can do so.
Yeah, I think someone already had that idea.
Look, I’ll stop with this suggesting nonsense and outright say that I WILL PAY YOU to do another. Even though you’re probably rich out now what with being Warchief and all. Still. I mean, if it helps, I’ll send over 10,000 gold and it might even feed a village of hungry peons, or maybe be enough to invent an elixir that will give them a brain.
<looks over bill from Shayari’s latest shopping trip>
I’m listening.
I swear, though, the way youāre going on about this is making me want to make this a Patreon perk for clearing some non-trivial threshold.
I seem to have covered everything I’ve been wishing to bring up with you.
OH THANK THE SPIRITS I THINK WEāRE COMING UP ON THE HOME FUCKING STRETCH
I do hope that you don’t find any of this to be too demanding.
Iāll let you know once I regain feeling in my left leg after stabbing it repeatedly to keep from losing consciousness every 37 words.
I expect you have other issues to deal with besides the worries of a young Paladin, such as very incriminating photoes of dancing trolls or something. As opposed to “not so incriminating photoes”. Or “just slightly incriminating photoes”. The fel was up with THAT guy?
Itās funny you should ask. “That guy” just had another message delivered by courier:
It has come to my attention that both yourself and your daughter have been subjected to interminable, inane babbling in letter form from a young blood elf paladin in the service of Tirion Fording. Having reviewed her messages, I wish to know: what on Azeroth is UP with this chick?
–A Humble Peon
I wish I fucking knew, AHP. I wish I fucking well knew.
Oh, I did have a question!
I swear, itās like the letter equivalent of one of those Earth Online machinimas, where you keep thinking the serial killer is finally dead, and HE KEEPS GETTING BACK UP AND COMING AFTER YOU SOME MORE.
But fear not, I will be brief.
Lady, the train left that station somewhere in the middle of volume three.
What the fuck is up with Bob? Who even IS that guy? And what is his fucking PROBLEM!? Gee, I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s a troll and all (in EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD EVER) but whoa! I mean, c’mon. It’s not the just the harsh, real fact that he’s an asshole, but the more harrowing fact that he lacks a brain. The fuck. I mean, everybody KNOWS that the Lich King’s horse is “Invincible”. Invincible and INVISIBLE are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS! ARE YOU READING THIS, BOB!? YOU MIGHT LEARN A THING OR TWO! GRR, YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SO ANGRY.
You know, I canāt believe sheās actually making me contemplate the phrase āworth the wait,ā but if this is how sheās finishing up, I hate to say it, but it really might be. BECAUSE FUCK YOU, BOB. Troll? Check. Asshole? Check? GODDAMN FUCKING IDIOT? Hell yes and triple check. PREACH, SISTER, PREACH.
Anyhow, I digress. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must replace this inkwell with a slightly larger one, since it only holds maybe just over half of the ink that I require to send out not just mailbag letters to the Horde’s Warchief, but also to stay in close contact with other friends and possibly relatives around Azeroth and Outland! It’s just rather a pain to refill it constantly.
And look at that, two more signatures for that petition from the ink vendors.
Meanwhile, I just had another message come in by courier. Apparently the night elves are declaring war on Sarlin for the sheer number of forests sheās singlehandedly leveled in order to supply herself with enough paper for these letters. And I quote: āWe feel we may have misjudged your Warsong clan in focusing the brunt of our ire on their logging activities; clearly we were overlooking the true, direr threat.ā
Still, feel free to scrape a few more pages out of Ashenvale, if you ask me. Just make sure you scrape some of the glitter off those trees before you start pulping. Thalassian Brandi could probably use it.
Fucking hell, though. Okay, letās see what else weāve got.
Sir, if somehow somewhere the f-word was banned and a spell kept anyone and everyone (including you) from saying it, what would you do? Would you be able to carry on a conversation or get mad without ever saying it or would this cause a cataclysmic event of Garrosh proportions?
–Ruekie
PS: This goes for shit too. Ā I mean the S- word!
Well, Rook, in the unlikely event that something like that ever happened, I suppose I would have to do the adult, responsible thing. Which means, of course, that I would hunt down the fucking fucknose motherfucker who cast that fucking spell, grab them by their fucking neck, then beat some goddamn fucking sense into their stupid fuckwit ass until they turned that motherfucking spell the fuck OFF. Thatās what the fuck Iād do, dammit.
And shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits, while weāre at it.
Censorship fucking sucks, kids. Fight the power.
Mogor glad you got people working on it. Elements still not happy, so Mogor hope they work fast. Still, Mogor happy to find other fun things. Lantresor not writing in this time. Lantresor say he has a “secret mission” to take care of. Mogor not get it, but Lantresor smart orc. He not in trouble. Ā
Mogor write in to give you battle report. Mogor and some ogres of Burning Skull went south to swamp, hung out with Stonemaul ogres. Mogor met Draz’Zilb. Draz’Zilb so smart. He working on potion, will make Mogor smarter, stop heads arguing and big words confusing Mogor. Anyway, we hang out in swamp until funny pinkskins arrive, attack village. Mogor think Mogor saw green shirt with yellow anvil on pinkskins, but memory fuzzy. Draz’Zilb say they sent by the Allianz. More come, too many to fight all at once, but Mogor set trap in trees near village. Mogor and ogres climbed big tree and hung in branches; when pinkskins approached Mogor and ogres, we let go of branches, fall down on them. We got the drop on them, ha! Ā
Draz’Zilb say he continue to work on potion and Mogor should write to tell you about attack. Draz’Zilb expect pinkskins come back with even more next time. Mogor disappointed; the Allianz tougher in Mogor’s younger days. Now they all numbers, no brains. Not like orcs. Not like ogres. Ā
That all for now. Mogor see you next time. Ā
āMogor the Ogre
Oh, hey, Mogor. The Ogre.
Um.
ā¦
Yeah, sorry, I needed to take a second to wonder what happened to my life that these are the conversations I end up having. Anyway.
Soā¦ yeah, itās good that you got over your little elemental hissy fit. You keep on listening to Lantresor, Mogor. The…ogre. Or…or, yeah, better yet, keep hanging out down in Brackenwall Village. Youāll probably feel right at home there, what with all the other mogor–ogres. OGRES.
…
<sigh>
I swear there was a point in my life when it wasnāt a giant fucking cartoon.
Anyway, continuing on.
Thatās good that youāre spending some time with DrazāZilb down there. I havenāt talked to him in a while, but he was always pretty sharp, so heās probably going to be able to help you with the– wait.
Hang on.
You mean to tell meā¦ DrazāZilbās got a potion he can cook up…that makes a pair of bickering heads stop yammering, and shut up and get along, and stop being fucking stupid and confused all the time? DUDE ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT MOFOāS BEEN SITTING ON A FUCKING DONTRAG AND UTVOCH ANTIDOTE ALL THIS TIME AND HE HASNāT FUCKING TOLD ME???!! ARE YOU SHITTING ME??!!!
OKAY, so HEREāS what youāre gonna do, Mogor the ogre — youāre going to fucking FOLLOW DrazāZilbās ass around and stay after him until he whips up a GIANT SIZED dose of that potion of his, and then youāre going to get the BIGGEST FUCKING BARREL YOU CAN FIND, and LOAD IT UP WITH AS MUCH OF THAT POTION AS ITāLL HOLD, AND THEN YOUāRE GOING TO HIGH-TAIL IT BACK TO ORGRIMMAR WITH THAT SHIT. THATāS WHAT YOUāRE GOING TO FUCKING DO, MOGOR.
ā¦
THE OGRE.
<sigh>
More soon. When I can stomach it.
[As always, keep those letters coming! Next mailbag November 2! E-mail the Warchief using the link at the top of the right sidebar, or use the handy form below:]
Monday mailbag
Okay, time to dip back into the mail and see what you peeps have on your minds these days. Getting right to it…
It has recently come to my attention that you have been…cavorting with trolls. Considering your political stance on trolls, this would do some great damage to your position as Warchief if this should get out. So perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement. A hundred thousand gold, delivered by your most resourceful grunts, to Razor Hill at sundown in three days’ time. Or this photo is released to the press!
*enclosed is a very incriminating photo of Garrosh getting a little…personal with an unnamed troll woman*
–A Humble Peon
Wait, what?
Hang on, hang on, are you talking about Zuri? Getting a lapdance now and then counts as ācavortingā these days? Um. Assuming I was getting lapdances. Which I was not by any means. At all. That, um, that photo youāve got there is an obvious Photoshop job. Bad one at that. Yeah. So.
SO.Ā More importantly. TRYING TO EXTORT THE WARCHIEF, huh? Oh, yeah, THATāS a real smart move. Especially when you pretty much TELL me where you are. So, RAZOR HILL, is it? Well then, not-so-Humble Peon, I hope you have a nice window in your room to look out of, and a nice comfy chair you can sit back in, so you can watch the arrival of ALL THE KORāKRON who are about to be CRAWLING ALL THE FUCK OVER RAZOR HILL starting, oh, I donāt know, TEN MINUTES AGO. We already had a few security questions down there, so you know what? Thank you, motherfucker, for giving me a reason to start tightening things up down there for real.
SEE YOU SOON, DEAD MAN WALKING.
As I write this, Mogor and I are wandering around Orgrimmar, getting a good look at the city. It’s a strange feeling to be back among my mother’s people, especially since I expected prejudice and judgement but have faced none. Mogor insisted we try out riding the local wolves, but there’s a reason ogres never took to riding, especially on wolfback. The sight of that clumsy fool trying to get on a wolf’s back and falling off the other side is one I shall long relish.
I wasn’t expecting to write another letter so soon, but given that a certain goblin saw fit to cast aspersions on my intentions regarding your daughter… well, best to clear up any doubts if we’re going to be working together closely on an ongoing basis, yes?
While I do have to admit that your daughter strikes me as a pretty little spitfire, I highly doubt she would want someone like me ā even if I were the handsomest orc in the Horde, she probably already thinks I’m past my prime (you did notice my greying hair, didn’t you?) I do believe there was a time when I might have pursued her romantically ā maybe back in the days before the rise of the Horde when peace existed between orcs and draenei. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any indication that she has the slightest interest in men, at least in that way. If anything, you may want to check if her interests go in… another direction.
The real reason I keep asking about her is that… well, there are two, actually. 1) I’m curious. I can’t help wondering if she knows anything about my father and what happened to him, or if any of the draenei from her village know who I am and the plight she and I faced. 2) I had hoped to tell her right from the off to be brave, because she is not alone. She is a child of two worlds and two people; so am I. And unlike Garona Halforcen, I do not resent her. I thought it would be best to say that sooner rather than later.
Besides, my taste in women has broadened since I became a leader of ogres. By which I mean, while ogre women are rare indeed… suffice it to say, my dear Garrosh, I have personal experience that they do. There are certain perks to being in charge. You know how it is.
I hope your opinion of me hasn’t been permanently poisoned. If you need any further proof of my good intentions, I can make an offer of that kind to Garona Halforcen myself. It would be an interesting experience to compare our physiques up-close, and it sounds to me like you could use someone to take her eyes off you.
As for the goblin responsible for those allegations, if she has any further doubts herself, or wishes to further discuss what a “huge complainer” I am… Please, send her along to me. I’d be happy to enlighten her in person. In great detail. Ā
āLantresor of the Blade
P.S. By the way, a little raven told me that Garona got pregnant by a human sorcerer and ended up giving birth to a boy who was half-human, quarter-orc, quarter-draenei. Is that true? If so, perhaps she’d appreciate baring the child of someone more like herself. Also, the blademasters I mentioned during our meeting have agreed to join up, and will be on their way as soon as they procure suitable transport. I hadn’t expected to work with Azuka Bladefury again after her father kicked me out of the Burning Blade clan, but it seems she didn’t agree with him about my banishment and got kicked out herself for her troubles. She seems amenable enough.
Hey, Lantresor. Good to hear from you, even if Iām little surprised to see you writing, what with us having been talking face to face the last few days. But, whatever works — sometimes itās good to get your thoughts down on paper, I guess.
Glad youāre getting a good vibe from Orgrimmar. As you probably realized once you got to spend some time with yours truly, us orcs are usually pretty chill. As long as youāre not pissing us off. Or looking at us funny. Somehow I want to make a Jorin Deadeye joke here, but Iām not really coming up with anything specific. Oh well. You probably see where I would be going with it.
Heh. See. Unlike Jorin. Heheh. Fucker.
Anyway.
Dude, seriously, you wanna have a go at Garona? Be my guest. Have at it, man. One less thing for me to worry about. Believe me, Iāve had enough conversations with her that I would steer clear personally, but if thatās your thing, go right ahead, you do you. And hey, you know, since the two of you are both half-orc and half-draenei, wouldnāt it be kind of a hoot if you DID have some kids, and the halves from the both of you lined up so the kids came out either all orc or all draenei? Math is crazy, man.
So look, as far as Shayari goes, I know youād be pretty old for her, but letās be real here. The world is packed full of creepy old dudes who would not think twice about chasing after some PYT that caught their eye. SHE might not be interested in guys their age, but that sure as hell doesnāt stop THEM from trying. You know what DOES stop them? When Shay whips up a pyroblast to the crotch. Thereāve been a lot of those around Orgrimmar since sheās been in town, let me tell you. Which is fine by me — it saves me the trouble of having to track the old fuckers down myself and opening up a family-sized can of agonizing pain on them.
But I mean, come on. āYou may want to check if her interests go in another directionā? First of all, dude, there is no possible way for an out-of-the-blue conversation like that NOT to be thirty-three flavors of awkward. And second of all, why — WHY? — would you want to go planting THOSE mental images in peopleās heads, for fuckās sake? Seriously, I have ENOUGH trouble sometimes keeping Gurtash focused, withoutā¦
ā¦
Never mind.
ā¦
Moving on. Next letter.
I Mogor the Ogre. Mogor the other leader of Burning Skull. Mogor on his way around big orc city with Lantresor. You don’t know Mogor? That okay; Mogor only learned about you four-and-a-half weeks ago.
Mogor give you the short version of Mogor’s story. Ā First Cho’Gall found Mogor and grabbed him by back of neck. Cho’Gall took Mogor to scary orc in hood. Scary orc in hood cast spell on Mogor, made Mogor grow new head. Mogor’s new head argued with Mogor’s old head. Mogor very confused. Scary orc in hood scoffed, called Mogor a āfailureā. Cho’Gall throw Mogor away, but Mogor found orc clan, called themselves Laughing Skull. Then Mogor lived with clan and learned magic from Elements. In the end, Mogor rule clan.
Ner’Zhul tried to kill Mogor for stealing death knights, but Mogor survived that. Then funny pinkskins who called themselves “the Allianz” came to Orc-world, and Mogor gave them magic book as thanks for helping beat up Bonechewer Clan. Portals almost destroyed Orc-world, but Mogor survived. Then at arena in Na’Grand, stupid people kept killing Mogor, but Mogor always came back. Elements help Mogor, keep bringing Mogor back to life everytime Mogor die. Mogor not know why, but Elements say Mogor has important task to do for them. Mogor not get it, but that okay.
Mogor not expect to lead ogres again, but Laughing Skull went to work for red orcs. Red ogres are stupid. Mogor not join them. Anyway, Mogor listening to Elements to pass time on way āround big orc city. Elements not happy. They say somebodies torturing them in caves under city, trying to conquer them. You know ābout this? Mogor hear that orcs here Elements too, but not sure. Mogor hope so. Elements want Mogor to go down into caves and bash somebodies treating them bad. Mogor want to, but Lantresor keep saying “No.” He always saying “No.” He look at Mogor like Mogor is stupid and know nothing. Mogor not care. Lantresor can’t hear Elements. He not know they suffering. Mogor want to go down there. Mogor want to make somebodies stop torturing Elements.
Mogor sit down now. Heads hurt from writing.
āMogor the Ogre
Oh. Good. So now Iām hearing from THIS one, too. Iām starting to wonder if Lantresor and Mogor are going to turn into a smarter version of Dontrag and Utvoch. Only I think thereās a pretty decent chance people will be able to keep Lantresor and Mogor straight. The fact that they have a different number of heads helps a lot.
Anyhow. Um. Look, Mogor, you should be listening to Lantresor, okay? Lantresor has the right idea: No. Heās clearly the brains of the operation anyway, and heās got a much better idea of how things work in orc cities like Orgrimmar. I know all about the caves, and believe me, Iāve got people ON the situation as we speak. And itās sensitive enough down there, what with the shaman trying to do their thing, and now Iāve got Mokvar down there trying to juggle like five things at once, and the last thing we need is an ogre running around like a kodo in a china shop. So just COOL it, okay? Remember, you and Lantresor were the ones who approached ME about signing on with the Horde, and Iām the Warchief, so your job here is to listen to what Iām telling you and let me worry about what we need to do down there.
Okay? Got that? Are we good?
Ugh. Ogres.
I have a question concerning Shayari. Iām an admirer of her fashion sense, especially that adorable adventurer number she was sporting during your recent journey to Blackrock Spire. Do you know if she has a particular vendor she frequents for her outfits? I realize this might be a better question to ask her directly, but I would imagine you might have an idea, since… well… youāre the one receiving the bills.
–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City
Yes. Yes I am. And based on the bills, Tandeleina, her favorite shop is ALL OF THEM. Like all of them, ever. Literally ever. Like when she arrives at a trade district, near as I can figure, her very presence must open up some kind of ripple in the fabric of time and space so she can stroll right on into shops that closed for good like three years ago, and then I get a backdated receipt charging interest.
So if you want to shop where Shay shops, Iāve got good news for you. You canāt NOT shop where Shay shops. Go ahead, pick a store. Any one you want. Sheās been there. You canāt miss. Itās the surest sure thing that ever sured.
Perhaps you remember me, though I’d hardly doubt by name. After all, you’re the mighty wolf of an obedient pack. We hear your words, but do you always hear ours, your loyal and most valiant soldiers? Well, that remains to be seen.
My name is Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, though most would simply know me as “Sarlin” or even “Sarls”, although I respectfully request that you refrain from using the latter. It’s quite improper and, to be frank, greatly annoys me. My mother put her heart and soul into the name she bestowed upon me, and to abbreviate it not once, but twice, and to “Sarls” at that? No good. Anyway.
Moving on.
I’m a Paladin of the Argent Crusade, former captain for the Farstriders of Silvermoon. Should you wish to respond, please mail your letter back to Hearthglen, my current home.
I was one of the many heroes that came to the aid of the Alliance, Horde, Argent Crusade, Knights of the Ebon Blade and, at long last, the Ashen Verdict, when our hated enemy, Arthas Menethil, held the mantle of the dreaded Lich King. Before I enlist my queries, I would like to extend my thanks for a fine and noble effort. Your Horde underwent great strain to break through those cursed halls, and I wish to pass on (though delayed) my condolences for the loss of Dranosh Saurfang. May his soul find redemption with the elements, and live as far from the cursed plane of death as it possibly can. Moreover, if you happen to cross paths with Varok Saurfang, be sure to pass forward my gratitude for persistence and valour. I could not imagine fighting a war, knowing that my only child roamed the halls in death as all he stood against in life. Dark days, good warrior. Very dark days indeed.
But I digress! No, I have some questions for you, regarding your blog and other certain topics. First of all, wonderful effort! Who knew that you’d actually be able to get Sylvanas Windrunner, the BANSHEE QUEEN, to use the “^_^” emoji! And to see that even Sargeras himself has found his way here, from the Twisting Nether!? Very impressive. This may give us some insight on his plans, too. After all, we have our bows drawn towards the sky should the Burning Legion descend. In fact, I have two questions on the matter. One, how the fuck did the leader of the Burning-fucking-Legion secure a stable connection up there, and two, does he not know that internet routers can be traced and followed up? By the Light, he might as well wave a flag back and forth, set off a bunch of fireworks and say “This is where I live! Key’s under the mat!”
MOVING ON.
No, if I may raise a query on a more, ah, personal matter, regarding your daughter, Shayari. Yes, the word has found Hearthglen, if you would believe it. From what Iāve heard, Shayari is a young, diligent and rather rambunctious half-orc-half-draenei. Now, I know what youāre thinking. Prissy Blood Elf with more concern for my shampoo type than my people. No, actually. You see, I was raised, for the first few years of my life, among the Night Elves of Teldrassil by a Night Elf priestess and as a beacon of sunlight in a land composed entirely of stars and dusk, I can very much sympathize with how she must be feeling, previously a Silver Covenant magus and resident of the proud city of Dalaran, and now standing amongst the righteous soldiers of the Horde in Orgrimmar. Quite frankly, Warchief, Iām still coming to terms with her, ah, existence. After all, if I expected you to have a child at all, I never would have imagined its mother being a Draenei. Tell me, who does she resemble more closely, you or her mother? It would undoubtedly be easier for her if she had the more prominent features of her father but her appearance, alone, is but a fraction of the battle ahead. There is still the matter of adapting to her new surroundings. Forgive me, Orgrimmar isnāt quite as, hmm, shall we say āluxuriousā or, really, if Iām going to be honest, quite as habitable as the likes of a pristine, welcoming Dalaran. Perhaps the plains of Mulgore or my own beloved homeland, QuelāThalas, would be a more suitable home for the youngling? Has she seen the Undercity already? If so, Iām sorry. Dreadful place. Iād be inclined to feel pity for the fallen ranger, Sylvanas Windrunner, for having a constant party of orcs watch over her. In truth, itās the poor orcs I pity. Sometimes I wonder why the Alliance is so desperate to take back Lordaeron, as though it were a prized gem. Theyād have months, if not years, YEARS, of cleaning up after Sylvanasās mess. And I do NOT mean that metaphorically, my good sir, oh no! Iām talking about the LITERAL mess of bones and sinew and stitched up body parts and dead humans and rusted tools of torture and blood-stained racks and murloc gizzards and infested deer tails, not to mention the gory aftermath of an alchemy lesson gone wrong with the jaws, arm and possibly eyeballs of the students strewn crudely across the floor with the mass of bubbling, toxic residue as said failed experiment among them. This is nothing against the Banshee Queenās efforts towards the resources of your Horde, of course, but my word, is she a destructive one! To think her very own alchemists would perform their vile tests on not only the dead, but the living!? Did they not learn their lesson from Arthas? I tell you, my friend, she continues to surprise me even now! As though the events of the Wrathgate were not shockingly humiliating for the Horde as it was, but to spread the plague against your will in an effort to win a city thatās been walled up for years, only to be betrayed AGAIN and shot dead!? Oh, Light preserve our souls! It makes NO SENSE, I tell you!
Ahem. Anyway, as I was sayingā¦
Yes, Shayari! Among the information that has reached me here regarding your daughter is, I believe, still in her teens. Now, as one of the soldiers who outlasted Arthasās reign in Northrend, I think youāll be quite surprised to hear that I doubt I am more than five years older than your daughter. At least, thatās how I feel. See, as I was adopted quite late into my toddlerhood, my age has always been a mystery to me. Iām just going by what the mirror, and my head, tells me. And here is where I state my query; does Shayari have much trouble fitting in? Does she have any peers, or anybody she likes to hang around with and talk about cute girly things, like clothes and makeup and the latest hits from our own Tauren Chieftains? Does she get lonely? Moreover, is there anyone sheād like to hang out with?
If this is the case, I would like to, most humbly, offer you, and of course, Shayari, my company. It would be an honour to stand in the presence of a great Horde leader, and a great Horde soldier in the making. I presume, anyway. After all, I know little of Shayari, save that she is your daughter and a mage. If the matter needs no further discussion, however, youād do well to remember my offer should it ever come to question. I aim only to assist those in need, be they Alliance, Horde, or otherwise.
One last question for you, sir, and I’ll finish up. My inkpot is almost empty, anyway.
What’s the deal with lemon squares?
Shorel’aran, noble Warchief. Always have faith.
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker
ā¦
Holy shit.
YOUR INKPOT IS ALMOST EMPTY INDEED.
Sarlin, do you happen to be related to Tirion? Or maybe Grottee Metalbeard? Because this letter is like the two of them hooked up and gave birth to THIS LETTER.
Oh, and you guys wanna know the irony here? I mainly know Sarlin here from Twitter. Which means every other time sheās had something to say to me, sheās been limited to 140 characters. I GUESS THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE FUCKING GLOVES ARE OFF. Fucking hell.
So, okay, answers in no particular order:
The deal with the lemon squares is that lemon squares are fucking AWESOME. Where the hell have you been? Iāve always been a big fan of lemon squares, ever since Greatmother used to make them for me as a kid. But also, if youāre really, REALLY late to the party, well, back when I first started the blog, this troublemaking tree druid somehow got ahold of Greatmotherās recipe, then went and blabbed it on her own website. Which didnāt sit well with me. There was this whole to-do with me trying to get the situation under control, and I think the recipe is still out there, but eh, fuck it, at least now nobody has an excuse for not knowing how to make a decent tray.
About Sargerasā¦ who the hell knows how heās able to get stable internet up there in the Nether. Iād like to know who heās got working on that, though — itās a fuckton better than the wireless network Grizzle Gearslip slapped together for me down in Pandaria. Thatās a pretty good call, too, about tracing the signal. Might have to get Spazzle on that. Have him do…you know… some nerdy thing that he knows how to do that I donāt really give a fuck about.
And as for Shayā¦ well, I mean, look at her. Obviously she takes after her mother more. She has a few physical differences from a typical draenei, but she definitely looks a lot more draenei than she does orc. And sheās seventeen, yeah. And yeah, sheās been to the Undercity — funny youād mention the alchemists down there, seeing as the REASON she goes to Undercity, on a pretty regular basis, in fact, is to see the master apothecary down there, whoās kind of in charge of continuing her mage training. In her down time, Iām not sure whatās going on with her as far as friends go. I think sheās been hanging out with Taktani a little, which, I mean, donāt ask me to explain that one, but I guess they ARE pretty close age-wise. Even if Shayās…like…a good decade older than Tak as far as MENTAL age goes. But whatever.
As for giving her someone else to hang out with, I mean, sure, but Iām not really the one to ask. Youāre free to try reaching out to her yourself, and…I guess…ask her on a friend-date or something? Or whatever the hell you kids do these days? But either way, yeah, probably better to ask her yourself.
And ACTUALLY, since likeā¦ EVERYBODY seems to have questions about Shayari these days, you know what? Here. Iāll LET you ask her yourself. Bonus mailbag, coming up pronto, where Iāll get Shay to answer your questions personally. Will that satisfy you people? There. Have at it. Go nuts. Iāll be the one sitting in the back chuckling while she tries to deal with you people.
Iām out for now. More soon.
[TRANSLATION, and COMING ATTRACTIONS TEASE: As the Warchief promised, this month will feature a bonus, GUEST mailbag, in which Shayari answers your letters. Shayās guest mailbag will take place on Monday, September 21. Send your letters to garrosh1337@gmail.com or use the form below. Please indicate in the subject line or body of the message that itās a letter for Shayari, just to make sure I donāt mix it up with a question for Garrosh. Speaking of whom, donāt forget the next mailbag coming from Garrosh himself, on Monday, October 5! Get your letters in for that one, too!]
Monday mailbag
Okay, looks like weāve got some follow-up responses to some of the last few mailbags, so letās have at it…
I’ve just come back from a meeting with one of Blackfuseās representatives. Operation Mercenary is a-go.
He says Blackfuseās official headquarters are all the way back on Kezan, which aināt that easy to get to what with the exploding volcano and all that jazz, but the manās actual main workshop is a little outfit in a cave system deep underground in the Azshara area. Not very glamorous but no one would think to look for him there, so I undersand.
Before you ask, it seems heās run up a gambling debt with Booty Bay in the last while, so he has to lay low for the forseeable future. Good news is, that means heās desperate – if there was any chance of him not agreeing to work with you before, there aināt now; heāll take money wherever he can get it.
Blackfuse says heāll let you into his workshop so you can see what heās offering firsthand, but youāll have to cover your tracks. The instructions were: come on down to Bilgewater Harbour, buy 2 Moonberry Juice and a Cured Ham Steak from the innkeeper, a cute little number called Mixi, and wait for the arrival of his representative, a shifty mage called Fizz Lighter or something, whoāll port you to the complex. I remember him from Kezan; seems heās doing well for himself these days.
Personally I prefer to meet my customers face-to-face and do business in the open rather than make them sneak around and do a little dance before enacting the secret handshake first, but Iām not the multi-million gold genius tinker in debt to the wrong people so easy for me to say I guess. Anyway, thatās what he said, Warchief, so itās all up to you now.
One last thing: as an apology for knocking you into next tuesday with my first letter, take this little book I “purchased” from a Zandalari Troll while trolling for goods. (eheheh) It’s an Ancient Tome of Dinomancy, and I think your Korākron beastmasters will like it; it explains how the Zandas capture and tame direhorns (theyāre dinosaurs with four legs and big-ass horns on their heads) seeing as how thatās one of the few things I threw your way that stuck. Come on out to Pandaria and see what I mean ā thereās this island the Zandas call the Isle of Giants crawling with them. In particular, thereās this really stubborn and bloodthirsty devilsaur called Thok that I think youād really like.
āGrottee Metalbeard, Goblin Shaman
P.S. Just walked past this shaman in real black clothing on the way to the postbox. You took those dark shammies up on thier offer, didnāt you Warchief? We’re all screwed…
Hey again, Grottee. Nice to see youāve been working on your, um, editorial sensibilities. You know, the ones that help you trim out those extra thousand words or so. Anyhow.
On the one hand, good work lining things up, sort of, with that Blackfuse guy. On the other hand, fucking hell, SERIOUSLY? I need to go to the inn, and place the secret code order, and… Well, wait, hang on. Two moonberry juices and a cured ham steak? Thatās the order that signals the mage lackey guy? I mean, not for anything, but that doesnāt sound like a very outlandish or unusual order. Wouldnāt the innkeeper get a lot of people buying ham steak and moonberry juice in a typical week, just by the law of averages? Cured ham steak IS some damn good eatinā, after all, and what better way to wash it down than with a nice, cold moonberry juice?
(The Warchiefās Command Board is sponsored in part by Rocktusk Pork Products and Dream of Elune Moonberry Bottlers.)
…
What?
Hey. Look. A teenage daughter is fucking expensive, okay? Donāt judge me.
ANYWAY. The point is, you would have to figure random people at the inn are going to be placing that order all the time. So, what, is Blackfuseās mage dude getting a false alarm thrown at him every couple days? Or does he just port these people to Blackfuseās place straight away, without even checking with them? Because I donāt know if inducing spatial-displacement freakouts from random strangers would necessarily be great for business. Or…maybe it is? Like if he sells them some doohicky to teleport BACK once theyāre already there. You know, kind of like that idea I had to put up a toll booth on the way in to Silithus, and charge people 50 copper to get in and 100 gold to get out. Personally, I think it would have done wonders for the budget, but oh no, Eitrigg had to get a bug up his ass over it. I donāt know, though… another shopping trip for Shayari and I might have to revisit this one.
So, anyway, okay, I guess Iām going to have to plan a trip to Azshara now. Like I donāt already have enough to do.
Thank you ever so much for your approval, I just know Lyssa and I will be so happy together. *dances around squeeing*
I know that one day I’ll be able to show her how your leadership of the Horde is bringing new opportunities for peace, harmony, and prosperity for all of us residents of Azeroth. (Even the humans, once they get rid of that simpering idiot Varian. Did you know that the Kaldorei are matriarchal, and that they don’t really have any more respect for him than you do? Apparently Tyrande calls him “High King”, but to the Kaldorei, that actually means something like “Omega Bitch”?)
–Sintra EāDrien
I… hang on.
So you mean youāre… I donāt remember giving any… Doesnāt ANYBOY even…
Oh fuck it. Itās not even worth the trouble. Have at it. What do I care?
Lucky for you your little night elf she got me in a good mood with the thing about Varian. I always sorta figured that āHigh Kingā crap was because you have to toke up on the olā felweed to stand being around him for more than five minutes, but… Omega Bitch? Heh. Heheheh. HahahahaHAHAHAHAHAAA! <snort> BWAHAHAHAHA! HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!
Hah.
Heh.
Itās funny because itās true.
I be a long-time readah of da blog, anā I gotta ask ya dis, mon. What dāya tāink of da light show da dragons put on? Ya know, a bit of felweed makes da whole tāing bettah?
–Zuri, Zandalari priestess of Hirāeek
PS : When ya gonna have me back for dem special dances, mon? I know ya be enjoyin’ dem.
Thanks for writing, Zuri, Iā HOLD THE PRESSES. Youāre a freaking ZANDALARI?! I mean I know youāve been around Orgrimmar (and IXNAY ON THE APDANCESLAY, for fuckās sake ā Iāve got enough griefers around here as it is), but I figured you were just another Darkspear, or I guess maybe a Revantusk or Shatterspear (Yes, I had to look those up. Shut up.), but a ZANDALARI? How the hell did THAT happen? And never mind how you even wound up in Orgrimmar in the first place ā how do you even have TIME to roll around Orgrimmar? As a Zandalari, donāt you already have your day filled up with, you know, being evil, and turning up inexplicably in random lairs every few months just when they become briefly relevant, and riding dinosaurs and shit?
And HEY, STOP THE PRESSES PART II ā DO YOU HAVE YOUR OWN FUCKING DINOSAUR?! Can I get one?! You think you can hook me up? Is there even a place where you go to get them? I mean, yeah, Iāve heard, Pandaria, Isle of Giants, blah blah, but have YOU got a place for them, too? Because that could SERIOUSLY cut down on some importing costs if so, depending on what Nazgrimās scouts have to say for themselves.
So what were you talking about? Oh yeah. Light show.
For anybody whoās confused, I think Zuriās talking about this whole deal that the blue dragonflight does every so often in Orgrimmar where they roll into town and just sort of… hover around being sparkly for a while, whenever some random chump does some big favor for them or whatever. Matter of fact, Kalecgos himself used to run the show personally, back when they first started. Looks like heās delegating now, since he hasnāt turned up since the whole Theramore business, which is probably just as well seeing as how, you know, awkward. Or the other dragons are still turning up on their own out of habit. Who knows.
Anyway, Iām not even sure what the whole to-do with the blue dragons even IS, but yeah, Zuri, shitās trippy as hell. Give it a look next time youāre in town if you catch them at it, people. Puff, puff, pass, sit back and enjoy. Beats the fuck out of watching your hand move, let me tell you.
WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO BRING STARBULL’S TO ORGRIMMAR?! We need kafa! Hot kafa! Everyday! I mean, yes, it’s dry and hot as hell out here, but I NEED THE KAFA! Um, WE ALL need the kafa!
It’s good for you! It tastes good and can make all kinds of special flavors. Moka Lava, chucklelate, sin-AYmon troll, express-OH whoa (massive haste boost with this one), and even snickers.
Did I mention it gives a haste buff too?
For the Kafa!
–Ruekie, Shaman in training
Kafa lover
So okay, Rook, itās not that it isnāt nice to hear from you, but I have to ask: why are you always writing me letters with these questions? You see me in person, like, ALL THE TIME. You don’t need to go write a letter. You can just turn your head slightly to the left and be like, “Hey, boss, check this out.”
Setting that aside. You know, Rook, you might be on to something. I hear tell those Starbulls joints are all over the place in Mulgore these days, so I guess they must be doing something right. And Iāve gotta say ā granted, itās been a while since Iāve been out to Thunder Bluff, but last time I WAS there, I tried some of that Starbulls stuff. Not gonna lie, that kafa of theirs is pretty damn tasty. Iād especially recommend the vanilla/dark mocha tuxedo iced latte. Youāll thank me later.
(The Warchiefās Command Board is sponsored in part by Starbulls Kafa.)
…
Yeah, what of it?
Donāt look at me like that.
LISTEN, DOELING GOT EXPENSIVE TASTES, OKAY?!
Fucking hell, you people.
Anyway, yeah, I might have to look into getting a Starbulls over here. I know thereās already a kafa place over in the goblin part of town, but the one time Spazzle took me, the kafa tasted like sludge. Actually, Iām not at all sure the stuff WASNāT sludge.
Also, come to think of it… A ready supply of kafa might possibly be handy to have around the next time Tirion shows up looking for Eitrigg. You think that haste buff might make him get to the point faster?
Thatās going to do it for this time around. As always, keep those letters coming. More soon.
[The Warchiefās next mailbag will be Monday, August 3. As always, send e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com or use the handy form below!]
[Revision! Due toĀ a reality-necessitated blogging break, the next mailbag is being postponed from August 3 to September 7. By all means keep those e-mails and form submissions coming, though!]
The cost of doing business
So, some of you might remember the other day when Lantresor of the Blade wrote to me saying ā among other things ā that he was coming up to Orgrimmar to see about signing on with the Horde. Seemed like a pretty good deal, what with Lantresor being a major badass by all accounts, plus him being pretty much the head honcho of a clan of ogres. Which, yeah, maybe not the deepest thinkers in the world, but for real, have you seen some of the hired help Iāve already got on staff? I have Dontrag and Utvoch on payroll. Iāve got no business throwing stones.
Anyhow, I got Marogg the infantry chef to whip up a welcoming dinner for Lantresor and his crew, but we kind of overshot a little. See, when Lantresor sent his letter, he mentioned forming a new āBurning Skullā ogre clan, and wanting to sign on… then he said he got that Mogor ogre dude to port āusā to what Iām guessing was Ratchet (where, if epic limericks are to be believed, there once was a goblin from)… and that āweā would arrive in Grommash Hold soon.
And see, thatās great and all. Problem was, āusā and āweā didnāt give me much of an idea of how many people āusā and āweā were, and based on everything else Lantresor was saying, as far as I knew, dude was gonna roll up on Orgrimmar with his whole damn ogre clan. And seriously, have you ever tried feeding a bunch of ogres? Pro tip: donāt. Trust me. Iāve been to Brackenwall Village a bunch of times to see DrazāZilb. You know why the place always looks so run down? Because motherfuckers donāt have time to fix shit when motherfuckers gotta spend their whole day scraping up enough food to cover their daily requirement of 20,000 calories a head. Including a bunch of dudes whoāve got more than one head.
Anyway, point is, I had some indeterminate-sized ogre contingent rolling on into town, and I knew I was going to have to FEED these stupid assholes, because, you know, Iām not going to be fucking RUDE. (Greatmother didnāt raise no ungracious hosts. My heretofore unboxed ears would not survive.) So I had to have Marogg err on the side of safety and crank out enough grub to feed a small army of ogres. Which… let me tell you, thatās not gonna be a fun line item to see in next monthās budget report. I might have to get some slaughterhouses up and running just to offset the dent this puts in the meat supply. Maybe in the Barrens. Seems like weāve got some spare real estate out there. Anyhow, I digress.
Bottom line, Marogg pulled in a bunch of culinary personnel to help ā I even got our olā pal Ji Lunchbox and some of his panda buddies chipping in on this ā and managed to whip up enough eats to cover our bases. And so, who shows up?
Lantresor and Mogor.
The end. THAT was the fucking āwe.ā Lantresor and his double-headed, half-brained plus-fucking-one.
FUCKED OVER ONCE AGAIN BY AMBIGUOUS PRONOUN ANTECEDENTS. SEE? SEE? IMPRECISE GRAMMAR CAN COST A SMALL FORTUNE. STAY IN FUCKING SCHOOL, KIDS.
Um. I mean āfucking schoolā as in… like… you know… just school. Not school for fucking. Because for one thing, I mean, I get enough hate mail as it is, without advocating THAT certificate program. And for another, not for nothing, but it would be kind of a futile teaching exercise. Either you got it or you donāt. Sorry, nerds.
MOVING ON.
Anyway, point is, we massively overshot there, so, you know, if you happen to be in the Orgrimmar neck of the woods, and you like Kickinā Chimaerok Chops, well, Iāve got leftovers. Like… a LOT of leftovers. Like make-the-week-after-Pilgrimās-Bounty-look-like-fucking-NOTHING kind of leftovers. And the faster they get eaten, the sooner I can relieve the frost mages Iāve got on duty round the clock keeping the shit from spoiling. And MAN OH MAN, you can practically HEAR Ji high-tailing it over here with a fork and knife in hand, canāt you?
So where was I? Oh. Yeah. Lantresor.
So yeah, the initial meeting went pretty well. I donāt know if either of us knew what to make of the other at first, but after a little while we started exchanging stories about ways weāve each messed with Jorin Deadeye, and that broke the ice right quick. We still have some odds and ends to work out, but it looks like Lantresor and his crew are going to come on board, which is only going to help shore up defenses on a bunch of different fronts. Plus, Lantresor apparently knows a handful of blademasters from the old Burning Blade clan who are still hiding out in Outland, and he seems pretty confident he could bring them over as well. So, a lot of potential win going on.
The only awkward part has been how Lantresor kept asking about Shayari. And, um, you know… after Khizzara turnedĀ on the warning lights on that one, just to be safe, I made sure Shay was out of town when Lantresor was due to arrive. By… well… sending her off on a shopping trip. Which… seemed like a decent enough idea at the time. Until she got home with a fucking kodo carrying the stuff she bought. Including the kodo.Ā This oneās gonna leave a mark, I can tell.
Meanwhile, Lantresor keeps asking after Shay. I may just have to bite the cannonball and try to get Garona over here.
Iām getting too old for this shit.
More soon.
Monday mailbag
Time to dip back into the olā mailbag. Letās see what weāve got this time around…
Firstly, I thank you for accepting Grimjaw into the Kor’kron fold, and hope he will serve you well; secondly, my apologies for the depressive content of my letters ā it was not my intention to “bring the room down”.
Instead, I will share some good news with you: my son has taken to training as a warrior and will be ready to take his Om’riggor ā his rite of passage ā next year, and my daughter has taken to learning the shamanic arts. I have high hopes for both of them.
Also, there’s something I think you should hear, Warchief. Another of my wolves ā Golmash, I call him, after your grandfather, whose legend is known even to me ā has a black pelt and a set of eerie green eyes. And I don’t mean in the dark, slimy green of a swamp so much as a strange, otherworldly glare. I didn’t think anything of it the first time I noticed, but since then I’ve been feeling strangely ill-at-ease whenever he looks at me. I did some research into the nature of these eyes and what I’ve found… is both confusing and disturbing.
On one hand, the eye colour is not unique or unnatural (so far as anyone can tell); on the other hand, only one particular wolf dynasty has ever had them, and rarely so. This dynasty, dubbed “moonwolf”, lived in Shadowmoon Valley until the arrival of the Legion and the corruption of the land that ensued, and the last known scion of this lineage was Skychaser, the companion of Ner’zhul. The fate of the fallen Great Shaman is well-known, but no one knows what happened to his wolf.
I have never had any encounter with that particular lineage, and so far as I can tell, Golmash is strictly of Frostwolf and Nagrandeur descent; thus, the cause of his haunting eyes remains a mystery. How should I proceed from here, Warchief? I am loathe to create a problem where there is none, but something in my gut tells me sinister things are afoot.
Yours faithfully,
–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master
Hey again, Ogunaro. Grimjawās gotten settled in over at the Korākron stables. Iāve been over to have a look at him, and he IS a pretty fine looking wolf. Like I mentioned last time, Iāve got something in mind for him, but itās going to be a little bit before I get that going. The timing is kind of up in the air for the time being, but hopefully things will fall into place soon. Iāll keep you updated as things go.
As for this mystery wolf of yours (appreciate the shout-out to Golmash, by the way… well, unless it turns out thereās something seriously fishy going on with him, in which case, gee, thanks for dragging my grandfather into it)… that does sound pretty weird. I canāt say Iāve run into any glowy green-eyed wolves myself, and Iāve ridden more than my share over the years. Still, I donāt want to start running around cooking up crazy stories and conspiracy theories, especially when you sound like youāve got a good sense of the line this wolf came from. So for right now, what Iād recommend is keeping a close watch on him and maybe keep him apart from your other wolves when youāre not able to monitor them. Is there anything strange about his behavior? How does he get along with the other wolves? Or with you, for that matter? Anything youāve noticed about him thatās different from most wolves, OTHER than the green eyes?
This is definitely worth monitoring, but I donāt want to start panicking straight away. The Nerāzhul connection is creepy as fuck, but I also donāt put a lot of stock in ghost stories. Unless the ghost in question is one of those bankers down at the Undercity, because funny enough, those dudes actually DO come up with some pretty good stock tips. FYI.
Grats on your kids coming along with their training, by the way. Are they working with anyone in the military trainee program, or has it been individual class training so far? Iāve got a bunch of trainees studying under me, but then you probably already knew that if you read the blog. Your sonās coming up on his omāriggor next year, huh? He must be pretty advanced at this point, in that case. Iām hoping some of mine will be ready for the rite before too long, but right now that’s pretty dependent on…well, a bunch of things. No need to belabor āem with you. Iām sure you know the drill. Next year would be pretty nice, though.
Anyway, Iāll keep you posted on whatās up with Grimjaw. And the other wolf thing.
It seems serendipity brought me and your little “trainee” together. But I’ll elaborate on that in a moment. First, let me tell you that Boulderfist purchased our computer equipment from a rather enterprising goblin shaman and obtained our Internet as spoils of war from the Shadow Council. How they can be smart enough to create working Internet here on Outland and yet foolish enough to serve the Burning Legion is beyond me, but then there it is. Now about your trainee…
I was naturally curious when several of my ogres came wandering up the hill to me complaining about an outbreak of headaches. As it happens, they had incurred these headaches from being repeatedly smashed in the face (and other places) with a shield by an eager, cheerful little orc girl with a potbelly worthy of a ogre woman (few of them that there are). How fortunate that she isn’t as good at killing ogres as she thinks; I settled for reproaching my men for being stupid enough to let a orcling child knock the stuffing out of them. Some claim the ordeal has left them dumber – but frankly, dear Hellscream, I doubt that very much, and if it has, it hasn’t made that much difference.
At any rate, even allowing for the fact that she didn’t know about our truce, as I discovered when I caught her lurking around the Laughing Skull Ruins watching that brute of a shaman Mogor pounding a group of fledgling Alliance “heroes” into the ground and confronted her, there is a certain principle about truces that has to be upheld – namely, the principle that you don’t attack the people you have a truce with. So when I learned of this Jorin Blackeye or whatever his name was continuing to send adventurers after my ogres, I decided a response was called-for.
We lured him out of Garadar under the pretense of discussing a peace settlement concerning the village of Halaa with the Kurenai Broken, and there I confronted him about his actions. I had hoped to settle things in a reasonable way, but not only did he spout some nonsense about “no forgiveness” and whatnot, he took the time to pass comment about my Burning Blade heritage before he started to walk away. After that… well, it’s very embarassing. He sort of walked right into my blade. Face-first, no less. And my blade brushed against his one good eye. All completely by accident. How very careless of the both of us.
Anyway, given that he was using that eye for no-good purposes, perhaps it is an acceptable casualty. I hear he has not dared show his face in public since then – with an injury like that, I know I wouldn’t – and that his clan are electing a new leader. Hopefully they’ll be more understanding from now on.
By the way, speaking of Mogor, the brute and I have reached an accord: a permanent end to the fighting between our clans and the merging of Boulderfist and Warmaul into a single clan, as it was long ago, under the name Burning Skull (somehow, Laughing Blade just doesn’t have the same ring to it). We’re interested in signing on with your Horde – I admit, I’m curious about meeting another of my own kind, even if she is very different from me, and the contribution I can offer you seems like a fitting gesture.
Mogor has portalled us to a small goblin harbour in the Barrens. We’ll be in Grommash Hold soon to discuss terms.
–Lantresor of the Blade
Okay, you know what? Not going to lie. Not a whole lot registered other than the part about Jorin getting a little what-for. In the face. Jorin Blackeye indeed. Heh. HeheheHAH. HAHAHAHA. Such a dick.
So wait, did you actually get his eye, or JUST graze him, or what? I get that you did some damage, but eyes are tricky territory, and even a little extra flick of the blade one way or the other could… hmm… you know, come to think of it, probably best not to dwell on it. Iāll probably end up hearing through channels soon enough.
So speaking of trainees, you realize that when Mirembe sees your letter, of all the stuff you brought up, all sheās going to notice is the āpotbellyā part, right? I can almost hear the letter landing in my inbox now.
Also, eesh, surprise guests. I better have Marogg whip up some food to greet these people with when they get here. I wonder if he still has any of that Darkspear rice sitting around for his jambalaya. Pretty tasty stuff, actually, as long as the rice wasnāt sitting around trollville for too long, in which case you end up getting this weird dizzy feeling if you eat too much of it.
I was perusing this here blog and I noticed the letter you got from Lantresor. Now, readin’ between the lines here I gotta say… it sounds like that is one lonely half-orc-half-draenei dude lookin’ to get all buddy-buddy with the father of the — *looks around nervously and makes a circuit of the room listening for stealthy swoosh sounds* — youngest and most attractive of the only two lady half-orc-half-draenei girls in the world. Which makes me question his motivations, if you hear what I’m sayin’ and know what I mean.
Not that Shayari can’t handle herself or deal with unwanted attention, but… I’m just sayin’…
Also, not for nothin’, but I hear that Lantresor is a huge complainer. An acquaintance of mine worked with him for a while, and all he ever did was whine, whine, whine. “How long are we going to stay here?” And, “I miss the grassy plains of Nagrand!” Oh boo hoo hoo! Drove everyone else bonkers.
Have a good one!
–Khizzara.
Oh, PS: I dropped a buncha flowers off for Gurtash. Wish I could do something more, but as a mage I’d probably only make things worse. And as a goblin, I might uh, make him explode. Kinda counterproductive for the healin’.
Yeah, that Lantresor guy is…
Hang on.
…
<thinks>
…
Oh FUCKING HELL, SERIOUSLY?
I… he… you mean… HOW THE FUCK OLD IS THAT GUY, ANYWAY?
Iām… suddenly feeling a strange craving for dead ogres.
Wait, that would mean giving Jorin the satisfaction. And not for anything, but I refuse to live in a universe where Jorin Blackeyeāerm, I mean Deadeye… is validated.
And yet.
Fuck. Rock and a hard place.
HANG ON HANG ON HEāS ON HIS WAY HERE TOO, LIKE SOON AND SHIT.
Dammit. If heās out cruising for half-orc, half-draenei action… maybe I can pull a bait-and-switch on him? I wonder if Garonaās doing anything this week. I could invite her to attend whatever reception I end up stuck holding for these people and really lay it on thick about how much Iād like her to be there and OH SHIT NEVER MIND THATāS JUST GOING TO GIVE HER IDEAS.
Fucking hell, this parenting shit isnāt as easy as people make it out to be. UGH.
I apologize for disturbing you, when as your loyal subject it should be my duty to relieve your stresses, not add to them, but I have a delicate question for you. (by the way, could you please appoint us Blood Elves a Regent? I got a rude note from someone calling himself “Bob” saying you had named a Lord Invincible to the post, but I’ve never seen him . . . ?)
Anyhow, I . . . met a girl. Cat. Woman. Druid. Ummm, she’s really really beautiful, and she loves it when I pet her, and she purrs when we take naps in the sunlight, and we love to just stare into each others’ eyes when she’s a cat. Not a small cat, a big black panther. But anyways, I met her as part of trying to research help for my . . . not quite alive condition. She’s with the Cenarion Circle, and I guess they had a grudge against orcs for killing Cenarius, only he’s not dead anymore so that’s ok, I hope. We started spending time together, and slaughtering murlocs, and I found out that when we’re together I can feel my heart beating again. Umm . . . is it ok that she’s a Night Elf? We stay at her cave in Moonglade when I’m not on assignment, so she won’t disturb any members of the Horde.
Hopefully,
–Sintra E’Drien of Silvermoon.
Ps. Shouldn’t Loktar Ogar mean something more like “My Victory, Their Death!”?
I… Hang on, when did this mailbag turn into the fucking Dating Game?
So hold it, Sintra, are you seriously asking me to sign off on you shacking up with a freaking NIGHT ELF? I mean, I already had ENOUGH of a headache just recently dealing with Mokvarās human chick, and as far as I can gather SHEāS at least his EX-wife, as opposed to whatever the fuck you have going on thatās just in the early magical bloom of insert-your-greeting-card-bullshit-romantic-cliche-here.
And so, on top of the night elf part, sheās a druid, and from the sound of it you spend most of your time together with her in cat form? And youāre still technically dead… and… I donāt even KNOW what the fuck that is, like now youāre just doing the backstroke around aĀ giant cocktail glass loaded up with some spiritsforsaken concoction of bestiality and (reverse?) necrophilia and disloyalty and furry and OMG. I mean the only part of that whole damn part of itĀ that I can sign off on is the whole āslaughtering murlocsā thing, because letās face it, whoās notĀ down for good wholesome murloc slaughter? Other than the murlocs, I suppose. But who knows, maybe not. I know if I were a murloc, I would fucking hate me.
Hang on, though.
Jog my memory here, Sintra… arenāt you a blood elf chick? Because if so, and sheās… that might…
<thinks>
No. No. Never mind. Sticking with the dead-murloc-lone-highlight position. The end. Turn the page. Ahem.
Iāll be in my bunk.
[Keep those letter coming! Send e-mail toĀ garrosh1337@gmail.comĀ or use the form below. Next mailbag July 6!]
Keep your friends close
So I guess Spazzle already filled you guys in on the Gurtash thing. No new developments on that front so far. The healers say that the kidās either going to come around on his own, or not come around at all, which personally I think is a big huge CYA measure on their part, but theyāre the healers and Iām not so I guess I might as well give it a few more days before I start smacking people around.
In other news, Iām making some changes to Shayariās mage training plan. Sheās still going to be studying with Faranell over in the Undercity, but I decided that there wasnāt much need for her to LIVE over there permanently. For one, she IS a mage, so she can just teleport over where when she has lessons, and besides, based on recent experience…I mean…good fucking luck getting her to STAY there if sheās gotten it into her head that she doesnāt want to. Itās just easier this way.
So in related news, when I got in touch with Faranell about the revised plan for Shay, he decided it was a good time to hit me up with the estimate for whatever the hell he needs to have done to his jaw after Shay clocked him, or whatever the fuck happened. Then, as if all of this hadnāt put me in a great enough mood already, it just so happened that THATās the moment when the bill for that shopping trip Liadrin took Shay on came in, and HOLY FUCKING SHIT ARE YOU KIDDING ME. That hyacinth macaw of hers better fucking well shit GOLD, is all Iām saying. Are kids ALWAYS this expensive?! Fucking hell, this is going to clear out the bank in no time flat at this rate. Nice job, doeling. Yeesh.
Anyhow. In OTHER other news, now that Mokvarās mostly accounted for himself, itās time he got back on the job and made himself useful. Which as you can imagine made everyone in the war room pleased as punch. And by āpunchā I mean āpanda punching Varian in the fucking faceā…
Because some shit just never gets old. Heh. Hehehehe…
Anyway. Yeah. Smiles all around for Mokvarās return to Grommash Hold.
MALKOROK: Sir! With all due respect, you canāt be serious!
EITRIGG: Youāre lifting the banishment?!
MALKOROK: You canāt possibly intend to allow this…this treasonous dog back into your council chamber!
MOKVAR: Uh, yeah, nice to see you guys, too.
EITRIGG: Garrosh, I donāt understand. After everything that happened with Mokvar, after his conspiring with Magatha, for spiritsā sakeā
GARROSH: Look, I understand why you banished him while I was away, Eitrigg. Iām not lifting it now because it was the wrong call at the time. If Iād been here, I probably would have done the same thing myself.
EITRIGG: Then why, Garrosh?
MALKOROK: Iām not usually inclined to agree with the old man, Warchief, but once heās right. Why would you restore thisā
GARROSH: BECAUSE, you two, Mokvarās managed to account for himself to my satisfaction, andā
MALKOROK: Sir, whatever lies this traitor has told youā
GARROSH: Are MINE to judge, Malkorok, not yours. I believe heās telling me the truth.
Garrosh looks over at Mokvar, then back to Malkorok.
Enough of it, at least. Besides…I have good reason to believe that Mokvar has access to…certain resources that could be of great tactical benefit to us.
EITRIGG: Warchief…?
MALKOROK: I find it hard to believe he possesses anything that our forcesā
GARROSH: You remember the Divine Bell, Malk? What a smashing success that whole grand finale was? Suffice to say, during his reintroduction to the warlock world, Mokvar found something that could have swung that whole fiasco in our favor.
Eitrigg slumps back in his chair uncomfortably. While Malkorok and Garrosh continue, Taktani bounces into the room, with Shayari following behind.
MALKOROK: Assuming heās not making up the entire stā
GARROSH: <pointing back at his throne> DO YOU WANT TO SIT IN THIS CHAIR?
TAKTANI: <hopping onto the throne happily> Oooh, I do, Mr. Warchief! Yay! It looks comfy!
Garrosh looks back at Taktani, rubs his forehead, then turns back to Malkorok (who suddenly looks much more exhausted than he did just a moment ago).
GARROSH: Look, Malk. Iāve made my decision. And if you donāt think itās the right one, then guess what? Iāve still made my decision, and I donāt want to hear any more about it. Mokvarās banishment is lifted, and Iām reinstating him to scribe duties.
TAKTANI: <sprawling back on the throne and waving one paw around> Iām the Warchief-chief! Yay! Lemon squares or death! Hee hee!
GARROSH: Besides, would you really rather have HER staying on indefinitely?
MALKOROK: You…may have a point, sir.
TAKTANI: Aww donāt be grumpy, Mr. Malky! No grumpies allowed! <waving her paw around more> Off with his head! Tee hee!
GARROSH: TAK.
TAKTANI: Ooh! Okay! Right, Mr. Warchief, sir!
Taktani hops off the throne and bounces over to the council table.
GARROSH: Mokvar, this is Taktani. Sheās been filling in for you while youāve been away. Well, splitting time with… Uh, anyway, sheās been filling in as a scribe.
TAKTANI: <bouncing up onto the council table and leaning in close to Mokvar> Hiiiiii Mr. Mokvar! Itās nice to meet you!
GARROSH: She used to write in to the blog before you went AWOL, remember?
TAKTANI: Iāve heard so much about you, Mr. Mok-Mok! Iām sure the nice things are true!
MOKVAR: Iā wait, you mean sheās real?
MALKOROK: Unfortunately.
TAKTANI: Youāre so grumpy, Mr. Malky! I bet you just need a big hug!
MALKOROK: Donāt you dare even think ofā
TAKTANI: Again!
MALKOROK: Warchief!
GARROSH: Rein it in, Tak.
MOKVAR: Okay, you know, sheās a little hyper for my tastes, but I think sheās starting to grow on me all the same.
SHAYARI: Chuckles really does bring out the best in people, doesnāt he?
GARROSH: Huhā oh, hey, Shay.
SHAYARI: Hey. <scanning the table> Hey, Beardy. Chuckles. Other Old Guy I Donāt Know.
GARROSH: Oh, yeah, you never met Eitrigg, did you?
SHAYARI: I think you mentioned him to me. But yeah.
GARROSH: Heās Ariokās old man, if that helps any.
SHAYARI: Ohh, okay. So youāre kind of Grayscale Senior. I guess that makes you…what, sepia, sort of?
EITRIGG: …Warchief?
GARROSH: <sighs> Yeah, okay. So. Eitrigg, this is Shayari. Sheās…my daughter.
Eitrigg stares blankly for a full minute.
TAKTANI: Mr. Warchief? Is Mr. Eatery okay?
GARROSH: Eitrigg?
EITRIGG: <blinks> I… Iām sorry, Garrosh. I think my brainĀ might have just stroked off there for a moment. Did you just say…?
GARROSH: Sheās my daughter. Yeah.
MALKOROK: Supposedly.
SHAYARI: I know, Chuckles, Iām too good for a lot of people to believe.
EITRIGG: <gesturing bewilderedly toward Shayari> But… but Warchief… how…?
GARROSH: Dude, do I really have to work it out for you?
SHAYARI: #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh, am I right?
EITRIGG: I…oh…well… <gathers himself, turns to Shayari> Itās a pleasure, Miss Shayari.
SHAYARI: Thanks, Grampa Sepia. Oh, and if your boy mentions anything about livestock, I donāt know anything about it.
MALKOROK: Warchief, is there a reason why your…offspring is barging in on our meeting?
TAKTANI: Aw, Mr. Malky, why canāt you be friendly? You should smile more!
MALKOROK: Thatās enough from you, druid!
MOKVAR: Yeah. I definitely think Iām starting to like her.
SHAYARI: Oh, donāt sweat it, Tak. Guy Smiley hereās just pissy ācause Iām a walking, talking reminder that Pops has gotten laid more recently than him.
TAKTANI: Huh?
MALKOROK: Draenei, Iā
GARROSH: Malk, zip it.
MOKVAR: And I know Iām starting to like her.
GARROSH: Come to think of it, though, what ARE you doing here, Shay?
SHAYARI: Iām just checking to see how long Takās going to be busy with the meeting.
GARROSH: Uh, not long. Itās going to be a pretty short one today. Why?
SHAYARI: Nothing huge. When sheās done, I was going to port us up to Silvermoon to do some shopping. I can kill a little time, though. Iāll just be over at Kodohideās, ākay, Tak? I can check out theĀ leather jackets while you do your thing.
TAKTANI: Okay! Iāll come find you!
GARROSH: Hang on ā SHOPPING? We just moved like five huge cases of yours back from the Undercity. Donāt you have ENOUGH stuff?
SHAYARI: <walking toward the door> Thatās cute, Pops. āEnough stuff.ā Youāre adorable. Later, Tak! Oh, and Chuckles?
Malkorok looks up.
Donāt forget: being a walking bag of hyena urine is something most people couldnāt carry off, but you, sir…are no exception. Toodles!
Shayari exits.
GARROSH: <rubbing his forehead> I can already tell I’m going to have to start making withdrawals from the bank, aren’t I…
MOKVAR: You know what? Iām going to skip right past ālikeā and say Iām starting to love her.
EITRIGG: She does have a certain infectious charm.
GARROSH: Okay, so…
TAKTANI: Should I start scribing now, Mr. Warchief?
GARROSH: Ah. Well, no, Tak. See, you were filling in for Mokvar, and heās back now, so heās going to be taking over again.
TAKTANI: Oh…
Taktani looks back and forth between Garrosh and Mokvar.
You donāt want me to be your scribe anymore?
Taktani makes big, sad kitty eyes.
Did I do bad?
GARROSH: Oh geez.
MALKOROK: <rubbing his forehead> Merciful spirits….
GARROSH: Ugh… Look, Tak, youā
MOKVAR: Garrosh?
GARROSH: Hmm?
MOKVAR: You know, while I get reacclimated, it probably wouldnāt be a bad idea to let her stay on for a little while, just to make sure I donāt miss anything in my notes.
Taktaniās face lights up, and she turns to Garrosh hopefully.
GARROSH: Oh for… Yeah. Fine. Whatever. Youāre already here, so you might as well stick around for today anyway.
TAKTANI: YAY!!
MALKOROK: <glaring at Mokvar> Scribe, what in hellfire are you doing?
Taktani hops gleefully into a chair next to Malkorok. Mokvar tilts his head to one side, watching her, then smirks at Malkorok.
GARROSH: Okay…so, getting down to actual business, finally.
TAKTANI: Yay!
GARROSH: TAK.
TAKTANI: Oops! Sorry, Mr. Warchief sir!
Taktani makes an exaggerated zipping movement in front of her mouth, then stifles a giggle.
GARROSH: So. Moving on.
MALKOROK: Warchief, with your approval, Iād like to add a few additional patrols around the read gate.
GARROSH: Is there a problem?
MALKOROK: Just a precaution. Iāve gotten reports of some minor oddities around the Valley of Honor. Iād just like to make sure there isnāt anything to be concerned about.
GARROSH: Fine. Do what you need to do.
MALKOROK: Yes, sir.
GARROSH: Now for more important business. Mokvar, whatās our next step on your sha project?
EITRIGG: Garrosh…
MOKVAR: Iāll need to see some of these sha in person. This isnāt going to be exactly the same as dominating demons, so Iāll need to start small and work out the bugs.
GARROSH: Fine. Iāll be heading back to Pandaria in a couple weeks. Youāll come with me, and weāll take it from there.
EITRIGG: Garrosh, I donāt like the sound of dabbling further with these shaā
GARROSH: Your objections are noted and inconsequential.
MOKVAR: That should work out. I have a few things I wanted to check on in Pandaria anyway.
GARROSH: In the meantime, I want you to check in with a few people as well, on a couple different fronts.
MOKVAR: Whatās that?
GARROSH: For one, I want you to go see Overseer Elaglo. He and Xorenth are working on a few things down in Ragefire Chasm that I think you might be able to help with.
MOKVAR: Okay. What are they working on?
GARROSH: Theyāll fill you in when you get down there. And while youāre down that way, I want you to touch base with Neeru Fireblade in the Cleft of Shadow.
MOKVAR: Uh… you want me to… why?
GARROSH: Because given what went down with him before you starting going all off-hinge, I think heād be pretty damn interested in the fact that youāve got yourself a new toy.
MOKVAR: Well, yeah, Iām sure he would, but I was figuring Iād probably be better off keeping CLEAR of him about that. Why even let him know I have theā
GARROSH: Because knowing will get his curiosity up. And you know what curiosity did to the cat.
Garrosh looks to a suddenly nervous-looking Taktani.
Not you, Tak.
Taktani lets out a relieved sigh while Garrosh turns back to Mokvar.
I doubt that heās going to want to trust you, considering everything thatās gone on. But Iām betting curiosity about what youāve been up to, and your shiny new doodad in particular, is going to be too much for him to resist. So I want you to dangle it in front of him, and see if you can get in good with him.
MOKVAR: <nodding slowly> And then I report back to you.
GARROSH: And then you report back to me. We know Neeruās up to something, but so far heās been careful. But YOU…well, what you bring to the table might mean just enough for his demonic interests to bring him out. I know we canāt trust him, soĀ I want someone keeping him close.
MOKVAR: Got it. Iāll do what I can. When should I head over?
GARROSH: No time like the present. You might as well head over. I already told Elaglo and Xorenth youād be by sometime today.
MOKVAR: Okay, chief. Iāll get the records written up and posted for you later today.
GARROSH: Yeah, thatās fine.
Mokvar gathers up his documents and walks toward the door.
<talking over one shoulder without turning around> And Mokvar.
Mokvar stops in the doorway and looks back.
Itās good to have you back.
Mokvar hasnāt gotten back from the Cleft of Shadow yet, but when he does, hopefully thereāll be some good news. In the meantime, Iām going to talk to Spazzle about putting some filters on the blog. Some posts, at least. Itās good having these records here, but weāre going to want to start limiting who can see certain information. You guys are all cool, donāt worry. But some of this stuff…yeah, weāre going to need to be a little more careful. Especially if things start lining up like I think.
More soon.
ADDENDUM FROM TAKTANIāS NOTES:
(Mr. Mokvar left.)
MALKOROK ā Warchief, I still object to you trusting that scribe after his treasonous conduct.Ā Especially with these kinds of sensitive matters.
GARROSH ā Malk, do you not listen to any fucking thing that I say?
MALKOROK ā Warchief?
GARROSH ā Did you miss what I told him about keeping someoneĀ who canāt be trusted close, so we can keep an eye on him?
MALKOROK ā No, sir, I heard you, butā
GARROSH ā Did you think I was only talking about Fireblade?
(Malkorok became still a moment, thinking, then gave a slow nod.)
MALKOROK ā Yes, sir. I think I understand. I…wouldnāt have thought of that, sir.
GARROSH ā (nodding back)Ā Thatās why Iām in charge.
Monday mailbag
Just got back to Orgrimmar a little while ago. I checked in with the shamans over in the Valley of Wisdom about Gurtash. Theyāre still working on him, and it doesnāt look like theyāre going to have anything solid to say for a while yet. All we really know right now is that that spectral minion got him good…the fucker managed to get a good rip in on the kid in exactly the wrong areas, the head and chest. They made it sound like theyāre not going to able to say much for sure for a while still, so apparently Iām just going to have to kill time till then. So, I guess this is as good a time as any to clear out some more of this mail backlog.
So… the last mailbag made an impression for sure, what with it including a letter from some goblin guy that ran on for so long that Iām fairly sure I still wonāt finish reading it until sometime next Tuesday. With that in mind…
Dat quite da letter, Grottee Metalbeard. I’d recommend splittin’ it into more paragraphs next time, though. Ol’ Garry — *quickly scratches out the former and substitutes in “Warchief” — can only handle so much.
–Alayea
P.S. Though Fordring say he speechless, he sure ain’t one ta talk. =P
Oh, Fordring is one to talk, Alayea. To talk, and talk, and talk, and oh, by the way, did I mention talk? But yeah…that was a letter and a half last time. Actually, it was more like 6.2 letters. Maybe more. No less, though. Youād be amazed what a difference even a tenth of a letter makes. 6.1 would contain surprisingly little content.
Eheheh, sorry about all that Warchief. I was on a Kaja’cola binge when I wrote my letter.
Anyway, I’ll drop Blackfuse a line to let him know you’re interested. Protip: The key to keeping his attention is to keep mentioning money.
–Grottee Metalbeard
Oh, and check it out, look whoās back. So…how much Kajaācola did you choke down before you wrote that letter? Is there any left? Anywhere? Or is that shit just really potent? I canāt say Iāve ever tried the stuff, so Iām not really in much position to say. Sounds like it has the same kind of effect as that kafa stuff from Pandaria that Ruekieās always drinking. Man, you should see her with a couple cups of that stuff in her. Haste buff like you wouldnāt believe. Iām at least 50% sure one more cup would shave all her spells down to instant cast.
Anyway, yeah, feel free to contact that Blackfuse dude for me. Might be a good idea for you let me know where I can reach him so I can see about making contact directly, too. Is he over in the goblin part of town in Orgrimmar, or up in Azshara, or doing business somewhere else? Either way, yeah, I kind of figured the way to his heart was through his wallet. I mean, come on, heās a goblin. I know how you guys are wired.
Oh, and before all you crybabies get your panties in a bunch about me saying that, because racist this and stereotype that and boo hoo hoo, I give you Exhibit A:
Got another question for ya! What’s the big deal with my fellow Horde members shirking their duty in Alterac Valley? Are the Frostwolves really a bunch of pansies now that Big T went all hippy peace and love, or are they just scared of the beards on them Stormpikes? If it’s the beards, I totally got an answer for that!
You see my company, Sparkbolt Enterprises, has recently come into some great explosives. And by great, I mean “how in the burning hells is this stuff still legal?!” We pack it up nice and tight in the best elementium plating we can find (and boy howdy was there a TON of that stuff lying around when Deathwing was killed off), primed and ready to be launched at the face of any Alliance foe you can imagine! I like to call it the Sparkbolt Facemelterā¢! For best results, aim at dwarves or the sissy pandas that went for the Blue and Gold. It’s like watching an explosive sheep in an oil refinery! Just watch out for friendly fire and people within range of the discharge explosion. Also, wear heavy protective armor when setting one of these bad boys off! My, uh, my cousin Vinny didn’t and his face literally got melted. Makes the family reunions awkward, I can tell ya that much. 10,000 gold will get ya 100 quality Facemelters, primed and ready to roll! (shipping and handling is an extra 5,000. We disavow any responsibility, legal, moral, or otherwise, for misuse or improper storage of our products.)
*attached is a handy order form and catalogue for other Sparkbolt products*
Pleasure doing business with ya,
–Glessee “Glitch” Sparkbolt, Founder and CEO of Sparkbolt Enterprises
Yeah. So. Thanks?
But okay…I want to make sure Iām following this correctly, because listen, if thereās one guy you DONāT have to sell on the idea of blowing up Allies, itās me. Like itās really, REALLY me. So… youāre trying to sell me explosives that you have to armor yourself to the teeth just to use, and still stay out of the range…hang on, what IS the ārange of the discharge explosionā? Like how far away from this thing do you have to BE? Because youāre making it sound pretty damn huge, which would mean that it would be nearly impossible even to USE the damn thing without being taken out by it. Which means the only way I could even put these things into action would be to use my own people as living cannon fodder, and send them out there armed with these things to blow up targets knowing full well theyāre gonna get melted themselves. Which sounds like itās straight out of Psychotic War of Attrition 101.
So what Iām telling you is, Iāll go as high as 8000 for the pack of 100, shipped, but youāre not getting a copper more than that.
Fucking price-gouging goblins.
Being a big fan of your poetic skills, I just have to say,
There once was a goblin from Ratchet.
Go!
–Whizzy Greaseknuckle, from a neutral coastal town that may or may not be in the Northern Barrens
The fuck is up with all the goblins this time around? Is there some kind of coupon going around online for a āfree with proof of your letter to Garroshā deal or some shit?
Anyhow, though, you know what? Youāre on.
There once was a goblin from Ratchet
Whose wits werenāt as sharp as a hatchet.
She launched a Facemelterā¢,
Ducked in her bomb shelter,
But, sadly, neglected to latch it.
EPIC VERSE!
I am Lantresor of the Blade. Perhaps you do not remember me, though I do remember you. If you do remember me, it’s probably about how my clan, the Boulderfist ogres, attacked the village of your friend Jorin Deadeye ā which they did, but the peace settlement I made with you should make that square.
At any rate, I’m writing in from the Burning Blade Ruins because I noticed you have a daughter ā Shayari, was it? ā who is half-orc and half-draenei. That makes at least three of us in this world, I see ā her, Garona Halforcen and myself. I am the inversion of your daughter, physically our unique my body is that of an orc with draenei traits; notably, I am taller than an average orc, my shoulders are broader and my skin is an off-blue colour.
I sympathise with her experiences ā they are not unlike those of my own. My father was a draenei scout, my mother an orc of the Burning Blade Clan. Sadly, the blood war between my parents’ people came when I was young. My mother raised me alone as best she could, my father being too dead to help, but in the end, I am half-orc and half-draenei ā because of which, in the end I would be seen as neither.
I had barely completed my rite of passage when my enemies in the clan had me cast out shortly after they came to power. My father’s people, as you can imagine, could not bare to look upon me, for I was a reflection of their death. I was fortunate enough to still find a place in the Horde, where I would serve under the banner of two warchiefs. Now, though, I bow to no one. Instead, I am a ruler. A ruler of ogres.
Most of our kind were wiped out decades ago, though who was most responsible I do not know. I do know, however, that most would live their lives as outcasts, labelled and cast aside. Victims of their heritage. This world is no good to those of us who are half- anything. We stand forever apart; few know us, and fewer still understand us. For that reason I carry immense respect for Rexxar and his kind, the Mok’Nathal. They have lived as outcasts even longer than I have, yet they remain strong, if insular and distrusftul.
I write this letter not seeking your pity, but as a gesture to your daughter. The things she and I have been forced to learn, the things we have endured and suffered, the rejection, the shame… they are things only the children of orcs and draenei can know. If she has lived this long, it is a testament to her strength and independence; not all such children had it in them to take on the challenges and struggles our unique heritage presents. I, for one, applaud her, inasmuch as that means anything to either of you.
As an addendum, tell your daughter the next time you see her that she is not alone as a half-orc/draenei. Tell her that Lantresor of the Blade knows and understands ā and finally, that if she ever needs my aid, or that of Boulderfist, she has only to ask.
–Lantresor of the Blade
Huh. Well THATāS someone I wasnāt expecting to get a letter from. Not least of all because I wouldnāt have guessed Lantresor read the blog. Actually, hang on ā the ogres out in Nagrand have INTERNET access? Grizzle Fucking Gearslip canāt set up a wireless network in Domination Point that doesnāt make the computer literally urinate on the desk, but the fucking OGRES on a shattered planet have GOOGLE? How the hell did THAT happen?!
Anyway.
I do remember you, Lantresor. Although, not for nothing, but I wouldnāt go so far as calling Jorin my āfriend.ā Yeah, we both grew up in Garadar, but he was…well, he was always kind of a dick. Especially once he got wind of some of the uglier details about Grom, and decided it would be a hoot of a good time to keep reminding me of them at every turn. So, you know, that whole thing where you rolling his village. Boo hoo. Fuck āim.
Anyhow, thanks for reaching out about Shayari. I havenāt really thought that much about the whole half-breed thing, but it probably makes sense that sheād do well to have someone she can talk to whoās in the same boat. And considering the only other option for that would be Garona, well…yeah… I donāt really know you, Lantresor, but Iām pretty sure youād be the better option. Seeing as I havenāt seen any overt signs of fucking migraine-inducing crazy from you. Plus, Garona seems to get all cranky whenever anybody mentions Shay around her. Who knows.
As it happens, I think one of my trainees is on track to be around your neck of the woods soon, so if itās all good by you, I may have her swing by your way to introduce herself. Think of her as sort of an emissary, entrusted with a crucial matter of cross-cultural diplomacy because…well…she was going to be in the neighborhood anyway. So if a young orc by the name of Mirembe comes toddling on over, try not to have your ogre buddies step on her. Sheās not as squishy as a lot of kids her age, and more than a little better at shield-slamming, but still, you know, why court trouble?
And speaking of whom…
I know I’ve been writing in a lot, but it’s better to hear how my training goes here than in some silly report, right? And since you asked, I’m a Warsong orc too! My parents were grunts in Grom’s squad during the Third War. The necklace wasn’t from my first kills, so don’t worry!
I made it to Nagrand at last! Your Greatmother is awesome! She welcomed me, sat me down, and gave me a big bowl of clefthoof stew. I think I might gain weight out here from how often she asks me if I wanna eat something. If it’s not stew, it’s talbuk steak. If it’s not talbuk steak, it’s frenzy fish fry. She even offered me a sandwich made from leftover clefthoof roast one night after dinner! I won’t complain, though. The extra pounds might help me with a problem I’ve been having out here.
I met that Jorin guy. He seemed pretty crabby about some ogres or something. I wasn’t paying much attention until he told me to go kill those ogres. How long has this been going on with him? Anyway, to get back to my problem, he looks at me in creepy ways. Like how I’ve seen orcs in Shattrath stare at those draae…drenn…spacegoat girls. It’s gotten so bad, I stay with Greatmother most of the time now. What can I do to make him stop? Even threatening to smash his skull with my shield doesn’t work!
Help!
–Mirembe
Hey, Mirembe. Glad to hear the training is coming along. Just make sure you watch your portions while youāre out there ā Greatmother piles the food on any guests who show up in town, and packing on the extra points isnāt going to do any favors to your dodge rating. Sure, sheās a nice old lady and everything, but you still need to be able to tell her āno thank you,ā and then, when āno thank youā doesnāt even slow her down when sheās ladling out your ninth serving of clefthoof stew, you need to be able to get up from the table and walk away. And then keep walking, because she will FOLLOW your ass around town trying to get you to eat up, because youāre getting too skinny, and for FUCKāS sake make sure you keep a good pace going so you can stay ahead of her. She might be an old woman, but sheās fucking SPRY.
As for Jorin, speak of the devil, I was just answering another letter from this guy who…
Hang on.
Youāre saying Jorin had you out killing ogres? Ogres that he was all cranky about? Like…the ogres who attacked his village back in the day… and who I arranged a TRUCE with way back before I moved to Orgrimmar? The ogres who are… um… led by…Lantresor of the Blade, who was JUST writing to me and trying to be nice and shit, and who I told I was going to send you to as a kind of emissary, only that was before I knew you were running around killing his fucking people, because evidently, according to Jorin, having a cease-fire in place for like four years is no reason not to send unsuspecting noobs (no offense, Mira) to KILL the people we have the cease-fire with because stomp stomp hissy fit? THOSE ogres?
FOR FUCKāS SAKE, JORIN. I mean, seriously. Fuck that guy. Um…not literally, Mirembe. Not literally. You donāt want to encourage him. Like at all.
And speaking of Jorin and his leering… yeah. He was always kind of a creeper. Twice the creepy looks with half the eyes. The best thing to do, really, it probably to try to steer clear of him. But you want to know the real secret weapon? Next time you catch Jorin popping his one good peeper at you, high-tail it over to Greatmother and fill her in on what heās been up to. Believe me, that old lady doesnāt put up with any crap, and I can tell you from first-hand experience that if he sets her off, she will drop the clefthoof stew in two seconds flat to run over there and serve up a big steaming bowl of Pull Your Head Out of Your Fucking Ass, Jorin.
If THAT doesnāt work…hoo boy. All I can think of at that point if to remind the fucker that heās already down to just one good eye, and if he canāt keep THAT eye from ogling where it shouldnāt be, SOMEBODY might have to take that one, too. Which may or may not give him an updated vision of how heās going to die.
Maybe THATāll finally get through to him. Because, you know, itās all fun and games until someone loses and eye, but itās even BIGGER fun when they lose the other…
Erm…
Never mind.
Iām going to wrap up here. Iāve got to head over to the Valley of Wisdom and check in. On a few things. Keep the letters coming, e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com, handy form below, yadda yadda.
More soon.
[Next mailbag: June 1!]
A long time coming
Someday, I have to ask the Noz what the deal is with time. How it seems to go faster and slower, and rush right past the good moments, and practically freeze solid in the middle of the worst ones. Like itās going out of its way to screw us over and force us to spend most of our lives trapped in the middle of the worst parts of them. Fuck time.
Time was dripping along extra slow while Gurtash was dropping to the ground. Slowly enough for the not-so-little drops of blood to hang in the air just waiting for me to notice them. Slow enough for me to be on top of that spectral motherfucker tearing into it before Gurtash had even landed. Iām pretty sure the spook hit the ground first. Rage is the ultimate haste buff.
There was blood on the floor all around him. I donāt know the first thing about healing, but Iāve been on enough battlefields to know not-good a mile off. Ji and Shay were already gathered over Gurtash by the time I was pulling Gorehowl out of Mr. Wraith With the Worst Judgment Ever. Spazzle wasnāt far behind, while Ariok and Mokvar and his pet and his imp made short work of cleaning up the spooks that were left. We all have our jobs to do. Speaking of which:
[Okay, itās been a little while. Hopefully my hand doesnāt start cramping up. āMkvr., ed.]
JI: Thatās it, keep the pressure there to slow the bleeding…
SPAZZLE: Oh man, I knew I shouldāve put some points in Resto…
MOKVAR: It doesnāt work that way anymore.
SPAZZLE: You see how out of touch I am about this stuff?
JI: I think we can stabilize him, but heās going to need a lot more than any of us can do here.
GARROSH: Shay, get a portal open to Orgrimmar!
SHAYARI: But Iām trying to holdā
GARROSH: Portal. NOW!
SPAZZLE: Itās okay. Iāve got it…
Spazzle rips off part of his sleeve and presses on Gurtashās chest. Shayari gets up, channels a spell for a moment, then opens a portal.
GARROSH: Is he good to move?
JI: Not really. But moving him probably wonāt make him much worse than sitting here waiting to bleed out.
GARROSH: Take him through. You and green stuff go and throw as many heals on him as you can on the way to the for-real for-real healers.
JI: Yes, sir.
Ji carries Gurtash to the portal and vanishes. As Spazzle moves to follow, Garrosh grabs his arm and turns him back.
GARROSH: When you get to the healers, you make sure they understand this comes straight from me: if the kid dies, SO DO THEY.
SPAZZLE: Loud threats of imminent demise. Got it, chief…
Spazzle disappears through the portal.
MOKVAR: Well, if that doesnāt motivate them, nothingā
GARROSH: Dude, what makes YOU think you get off so easy? If the kid doesnāt make it, YOUR headās on the chopping block as much as anyoneās.
MOKVAR: Um…
GARROSH: Youāre the whole fucking reason weāre even HERE. Donāt think for a second Iām going to forget that.
MOKVAR: Um…
DELIANA: You already said that.
MOKVAR: It still applies.
DELIANA: You know, you maybe should have put a soulstone on the little guy…
MOKVAR: Uh, could you not point that out in front ofā
DELIANA: Just saying, the life you save could be your own.
MOKVAR: And besides, you know perfectly well I needā
SHAYARI: Maybe you guys could save this for the divorce hearing?
DELIANA: Weāre not married!
SHAYARI: Okay, if you say so.
DELIANA: Weāre notā Why does everybody keep saying this?
MOKVAR: Youāre asking me?
GARROSH: Dude, do you even notice how you two act?
MOKVAR: Donāt you start, too!
GARROSH: Hey, listen, Iād LIKE to believe you wouldnāt go slumming with pink girl here….
DELIANA: What the hell does that mean?
MOKVAR: Really, donāt even try to get into it with him.
GARROSH: At least itād mean you have more sense than Thrall did back in the day. Not that thatās saying much.
ARIOK: Youāre the last one to be criticizing Thrall…
SHAYARI: Not for anything, Lamb Chop, as much as Beardy hereās no prizeā
MOKVAR: And thank you for that…
SHAYARI: āyou still probably would have been better off locking him up while you had the chance. You know, tick tock.
GARROSH: I think Iāve already established my SHUT THE FUCK UP stance with YOU, Ariok…
DELIANA: What theā I only just turned twenty-nine!
SHAYARI: For, what, the fifteenth year in a row?
ARIOK: As far as I can tell, Thrall only ever had one lapse in judgment, and that wasā
GARROSH: Motherfucker, go on ahead and finish that sentence if you want to see how far I can toss your ass when I really mean business!
DELIANA: Listen, fancy-hoovesā
A low, rumbling laugh interrupts the overlapping exchanges. Everyone looks over to see that the spectral form of Valthalak, while still partially transparent, has grown much more solid.
VALTHALAK: I never forget a face…and you two… Oh, I remember you two. I canāt say I ever expected you to have the courage to show your faces here again… I see your choice of companions hasnāt improved over the years, though ā still bickering, still fighting amongst yourselves… I remember that as well…
DELIANA: Do you remember the part where you ended up dead, too?
VALTHALAK: Yes, and look how much thatās gained you. Or have you come all this way to show me how much my agents havenāt tasked you?
GARROSH: Oh geez, heās really gonna keep talking, isnāt he?
VALTHALAK: You know, I think your choice of friends may even have gotten worse since before. As you say, at least they were strong enough to defeat me… but these new ones… well, if the ease with which the little one fell is any indication…
GARROSH: Oh, now I KNOW you shouldāve shut up sooner!
Garrosh leaps at Valthalak, only to have Gorehowl swing right through the spirit.
VALTHALAK: I see this is a bright one. Iām a ghost, you fool.
GARROSH: Yeah, well so were your spectral whoās-his-fucks! How do I know which of these assholes I can hit or not?!
SHAYARI: Pops, could I suggest not trying to argue with the evil noncorporeal dragon?
DELIANA: The spectral assassins have to manifest physically ā if they donāt become solid enough for us to kill, they canāt kill us.
MOKVAR: Which also means we have a handy catch on our hands…
Mokvar reaches into a pocket and pulls out the Nether Prism.
While youāre recognizing faces, your lordship… remember this?
Valthalak glares at Mokvar.
It made a neat little prize some years back…
VALTHALAK: Foolish mortal…
SHAYARI: Did the dead guy just call Beardy āmortalā?
VALTHALAK: …you donāt even understand what you hold in your hands ā whatās at stake in your arrogant trifling with matters that are beyond you…
MOKVAR: I take that to mean you want this back, then. Well… come and get it.
The only way Valthalak was going to be able to take back his doohicky from Mokvar was to manifest fully, and once he did…well, game on. He threw us off at first ā the second he shifted fully into physical form, he hit us all with a shadow volley that knocked us back, and he managed to summon up and handful more of those spectral motherfuckers. Still, Shay and Ariok and Mokvar and whatās-her-face managed to burn them down fast enough. Me, I was more interested in giving big boss dragon dude a proper welcome back to the land of the living, and make it a nice, short stay. By the time everyone else finished off the assassins, I was well on my way to wearing the big guy down. Still, he was no pushover, Iāll give him that much. He could take a beating, especially for someone who was, you know, dead just a few minutes before. It was a long, drawn-out fight, broken up by a whole bunch of those damn shadow volleys of his, but eventually, little by little, we were able to whittle him down, until his movements started taking on that little shaky hitch that only happens when youāre just hanging on.
GARROSH: Iām going to enjoy watching you drop, Valthy!
MOKVAR: No, hold back ā donāt kill him!
SHAYARI: Huh?
GARROSH: The fuckā dude, thatās the WHOLE REASON weā
MOKVAR: We canāt kill him!
Mokvar pulls a glowing purple orb from his cloak and starts channeling a spell. A twisting ribbon of glowing purple energy starts to flow from Valthalak to the orb.
VALTHALAK: What!Ā No! You havenāt the power toā
MOKVAR: Ordinarily youād be right, your lordship, but luckily I came with an upgrade…
Mokvar holds the Nether Prism in his other hand and holds it and the orb close together. The glow from the Prism swells around both itself and the orb, and Valthalak convulses as the flow of energy from him increases.
VALTHALAK: You fool! You donāt know what youā theyāre coming, stupid orc, they… AAAARRRRGGGHHH!
The ribbon of energy between Valthalak and Mokvarās orb breaks, and Valthalak collapses to the ground, motionless. Mokvar stands over him, holding the orb in one hand, the Nether Prism in the other, both still glowing.
SHAYARI: So… did we not stop fast enough?
GARROSH: Looks dead enough to me.
MOKVAR: Heās not dead. Not exactly.
GARROSH: Oh, so you mean heās approximately dead.
MOKVAR: Thatās not a terrible way of saying it, actually.
DELIANA: Valthalak canāt be killed. Not entirely. We thought we killed him once before. Then we had others try again years later. He keeps coming back.
GARROSH: See? SEE? I keep SAYING nobody stays fucking DEAD anymore.
DELIANA: If weād killed him, he just would have lain dormant for a while, then come back all over again.
MOKVAR: And Iād rather not have to keep going through this for the rest of my life.
SHAYARI: What did you do, then?
Mokvar holds up the shimmering orb.
MOKVAR: Soulstone.
ARIOK: Spirits…
MOKVAR: Technically, Valthalakās body is dead. But this time, so long as his spirit is contained in here, he canāt manifest again.
SHAYARI: So…what now? Do you…I donāt know, do you destroy the stone?
MOKVAR: Canāt. If I break the soulstone, itāll just release his spirit. The only way this isnāt just a temporary fix is if I keep him sealed up in here, permanently. So… well… Iām sure thereās somewhere at home I can stash it. Assuming Iāve still got a place to go back to?
GARROSH: Your house is still there. No guarantees that Malkorok didn’tĀ turn it upside down looking for clues when you first disappeared. But yeah, you get to come back, so long as you hold up your end of the deal with your new toy there.
ARIOK: Garrosh, Iāll tell you again, you mustnāt do this ā even if you were still considering this insane plan about the sha, surely even you can see the enormity of what this warlock is doing toā
GARROSH: Dude, I am SERIOUSLY getting sick of listening to you bitch.
ARIOK: Heās imprisoning a still-living soul, Garrosh, andā
DELIANA: Itās the only way to stop the monster whoās been trying to kill us for over a decade now!
MOKVAR: Look, Ariok, I can see why it might not sit so well with you, but youāre coming in late on this. You donāt knowā
ARIOK: Donāt know what happens when we start to treat lives and souls and honor as options to be dispensed withĀ when convenient? Iām starting to think Iām the only one here who does!Ā I came here because that Pandaren claimed his friend was in dire need, but if Iād even suspected that he was setting out to allow the likes of this toā
In a flash of light and puff of smoke, Ariok turns into a sheep.
SHAYARI: Okay, that takes care of that. Is it just me, or does he, like, really seem like somebody whoād be a downer at parties?
GARROSH: Heh. So okay, while youāve got the hocus-pocus queued up, letās get another portal to home going.
SHAYARI: Coming up!
MOKVAR: Once we all get back to Orgrimmarā
GARROSH: Yeah, not so fast with the āallā ā Iām giving YOU the clear for now, Mokvar, but as for your little human friend here…
Garrosh looks over to find Deliana is gone.
MOKVAR: Rogue.
GARROSH: Great.
Shayari finishes opening a portal to Orgrimmar. She, Garrosh, and Mokvar start to move toward it; just in front of the portal, Mokvar looks back at Ariok-the-sheep.
MOKVAR: So…weāre just leaving him there?
SHAYARI: The polymorph will wear off by itself in a few minutes.
MOKVAR: Okay… What if something jumps him first, though? I mean, the place still isnāt completely empty…
SHAYARI: Then it sucks to be him.
GARROSH: Eggs and omelets.
Garrosh and Shayari turn back toward the portal.
MOKVAR: Huh… she really is your daughter, isnāt she?
Just arriving back in Orgrimmar now. Finally. Heading over to see what the word is on Gurtash. More soon.
Wake-up call
Now that we were done with, you know, our year’s worth of delays, we finally headed deeper into the Spire and made our way toward the room that used to be that Valthalak dude’s lair. Or study.Ā Or…office.Ā Whatever the hell you call it when you’re some kind of weird-ass draconic summoner what’s supposed to be dead only not exactly because what the fuck. Good thing Mokvar still remembered the lay of the land in there — I would have ended up wandering around in circles if it’d been up to me. Still, I have to say, Blackrock Spire IS a pretty impressive place, as far as fortresses go. Kind of a shame it’s been sitting here mostly unused ever since the Blackrock clan cleared out.Ā Well, other than ghostly dragon dudes or whatever.
We ran into a few more of those reanimated dragonkin on our way, but we made pretty short work of them. Still not sure what’s up with these dragon guys lurking around. I figure it’s got something to do with Valthalak being up and sort of kicking again, but fuck if Mokvar was any help piecing that together. He was pretty evasive, and it’s not like it would be news if somebody around here knew more than they were letting on, and fuck, Mokvar’s pretty much the grand poobah of that club at this point.
Valthalak’s room was just creepy dark, and it was in this echo-y part of the Spire where you could swear there was somebody — or a bunch of somebodies — talking just out of range for you to make out clearly. Still, Mokvar seemed like he was no stranger to the place, even after however many years. Once we were all in position, it was time to catch ol’ Mr. Part-Time Dead Drakonid’s attention. Mokvar summoned up an imp, which apparently really liked running its mouth, mostly about what a tool it thought Mokvar was, and yeah, Mokvar, doesn’t it suck when you get stuck with ungrateful insubordinate minions? Karma, dude, karma.
Anyway, though, the imp shut up right quick once Mokvar whipped out that Nether Prism doohickey and started channeling…um… I don’t know, he started doing some warlock stuff with it. Fuck if I know. It looked kind of purple, if that helps at all. Point is, firing up his warlock hocus pocus seemed to do the trick, because within a minute or so, in the middle of the room, who should start to appear in shimmery, mostly-transparent form but the dragon troublemaker himself, Valthalak. And of course, before he could even bother getting past his whole noncorporeal thing, he had to go into this whole greeting for us, Mokvar especially. You know, the usual spiel you get from bad guys when you crash their pad, where they pretend to be happy to see you and go on about unexpected guests and pleasant surprises and act like they’re all polite and shit except they have a TONE. I don’t know what it is with these guys.Ā They all do this shit. There must be a manual or something.
Point is, though, before Valthalak was solid enough for us to do much about him directly, he started summoning up these wraith guys. Like, lots of them.Ā So now I was finally getting to meet the famous spectral assassins that caused so much trouble for Mokvar and apparently made him go all batshit and stuff.Ā More importantly, though, now I was finally getting to stop standing around and listening to people yap yap yap and get back to something more in line with my area of expertise.
I can kind of see how a bunch of these assassins would have been trouble for Mokvar solo, but with the whole crowd of us there, they weren’t nearly so much of a problem. At least not individually.Ā Only trouble was that there were so damn many of them, just fading in out of the darkness in bunches, and it didn’t look like they were slowing down. We kept hacking them down, though, whittling the numbers down little by little.
