Tag Archives: thrall
30 Days of Character Development #11: Eitrigg
[Periodically, a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about!]
Name: Eitrigg
Occupation: Advisor to the Warchief, former training overseer for new Horde recruits, former Honor Guard to the Warchief
Race: Orc
Class: Warrior
Age: 60
Group affiliations: Horde (citizen), Argent Crusade (member), Blackrock Clan (member by birth, later abandoned)
Known relatives: Ariok (son), two unnamed sons (deceased) (That is, two sons whose names have not been established, not two sons whom Eitrigg didn’t name. Because that would be not just weird, but actually more than a little cruel.), six unnamed siblings (deceased)
First appearance: “LOK’TAR OGAR!” (first mention), “By my right as Warchief” (first full transcript appearance)
Key posts and plot points:
- Although he didn’t make many major blog appearances early on — he was typically a background character who was often mentioned but rarely actively involved in events — Eitrigg has been influential since the very beginning of the blog. In Garrosh’s first post, he noted that it was Eitrigg’s suggestion that he start the blog as an outlet for his thoughts and reactions. So, you see, you have Eitrigg to thank/blame for the existence of the Warchief’s Command Board in the first place!
- Eitrigg has been an aide to the Warchief since shortly after Thrall established the new Horde. Early on, he has served in a number of capacities, including an advisor and a member of the Warchief’s Honor Guard. Interestingly, in the quest The New Horde, Eitrigg indicates that Thrall had charged him with overseeing the training of new Horde recruits; it’s worth noting that, in contrast, within the events of the blog, Eitrigg appears to be completely uninvolved in the military trainee program that Garrosh initiated.
- One of Eitrigg’s notable appearances came in “Anger management,” in which he
accompanied Tirion Fordring to Ben-Lin Cloudstrider’s group counseling session as a sponsor. Evidently, Highlord Paragraph gets a little irritable when he dips into the booze, a habit that his friend Eitrigg tries to curtail with mixed success.
- When Garrosh left Orgrimmar to travel to Pandaria, he left Eitrigg in charge in his
absence. As a result, Eitrigg was left to deal with Mokvar’s odd behavior in the early stages of the We All Have Our Demons arc. After Mokvar fled from Orgrimmar following a rash of suspicious behavior, Eitrigg issued the order that, despite their long association as advisors to the Warchief, Mokvar was banished from the Horde.
- Garrosh eventually lifted Mokvar’s banishment and grew less confident in Eitrigg’s ability to mind the shop effectively. As a result, Garrosh installed Kor’kron overseers, particularly Overseer Elaglo and Overlord Runthak, to supervise and “advise” the senior orc. Eitrigg has, as a result, found his position in Grommash Hold even more marginalized than it already was, a detail that wasn’t entirely lost on his son, Ariok.
In his own words:
Describe your relationship with your mother or your father. Was it good? Bad? Were you spoiled rotten, ignored? Do you still get along now, or no?
My parents were stern but honorable. While they took the responsibilities of parenthood seriously, they were not particularly warm or sentimental. As they were parents to seven children in the oft-hostile environs of Gorgrond, I imagine they viewed niceties as luxuries they could rarely afford. I was the second youngest of the seven, and while my mother and father gave what care I required, they had no wealth of available time that would allow them to lavish attention on any one of us, least of all me. We all survived (the same could not be said of all my contemporaries or their siblings), so by the standards they set for themselves, they were successful.
Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from. If you don’t have any, is there a reason?
None that can be seen.
How vain are you? Do you find yourself attractive?
I consider myself quite unremarkable. I have always viewed myself so, I suppose, though in recent years when I have looked back at old etchings of my likeness from my youth, it has occurred to me that I was perhaps too hard on myself. I suspect we do not appreciate the attractiveness of our youth until it is long past. Either that, or the sketch artist was overly generous in his depiction of me, perhaps in an act of kindness born of sympathy. I would not rule it out.
Who do you trust?
Thrall, Varok, Vol’jin. I do not yet know Baine so well as I might like, but in our every dealing he has impressed me as the very likeness of his father. Above all others, I trust Tirion, who threw away the comfort and station of his family line on the hope that a member of a race he had known only for its barbarism might nevertheless have honor within him.
Can you define a turning point in your life? Multiples are acceptable.
If anything, my life has been an endless string of turns. While rarely easy, my youth in Gorgrond was probably the most stable time in my life. After that, life for me has taken the form of a zigzag rather than a line. The coming of the Legion and the pact with Mannoroth. The invasion of Azeroth and loss of our own world. The death of two of my three sons at the hands of supposed Blackrock kin, which led me to abandon the clan of my birth and forsake my own kind for the wilds of Lordaeron. A chance encounter in that alien land with a human paladin, which would open the door to the unlikeliest of new kinships. Thrall’s restoration of the Horde and his invitation for me to return to it at his side.
Through it all, I persevered as best I could with, I hope, what honor and dignity circumstance would allow me. Perhaps now, in my final years, fate will choose to grant me the stability I haven’t known since my earliest. Either that, or fate is merely lulling me into a false sense of security before throwing me once again into another sudden turn.
Is there an animal you equate to yourself?
A kodo. It is a beast neither glamorous nor frivolous, belligerent nor fawning. It has its tasks to perform, whether for its kin or its upright-walking masters, and it performs those tasks without complaint or ceremony.
How are you with technology? Super savvy, or way behind the times? Letters or e-mail?
I cannot say that I have much affection for technology beyond the sorts of devices whose workings I can readily observe and apprehend. The catapult, the wagon, various tools of craftsmanship and agriculture. I do not fully trust machines that perform their tasks invisibly as if by magic. (Perhaps it is the warrior’s mindset in me; perhaps had I been raised a shaman I would feel differently.)
I have, nevertheless, tried to keep myself aware of newer technologies. I still do not trust them, but there are many things in life not to be trusted; to take that as an excuse for ignoring them only courts trouble. I am familiar, therefore, with the workings of the online and make regular use of the email. I suspect I am one of the more proficient computer users of my contemporaries, so I suppose I am not so bad with technology. Either that, or my peers are simply terrible with it. I would not rule out the latter.
At the very least, I knew enough about the internet to suggest to Garrosh that he might start a blog. I was rather surprised when he took my suggestion. (He is not generally in the habit of doing so.) In any case, I suppose you might consider me at least partially responsible for the Warchief’s blog. I have looked in on it, rather inconsistently, from time to time. I feel I might owe several people an apology.
How do you react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?
I am not bothered by cold. I recall several of Tirion’s colleagues in Northrend complaining about the temperature in Zul’Drak. I could not imagine why they found it so unbearable. For me, the opposite was true. There is a reason why hell is hot.
Sadly, I am not in a position to dictate the temperature of my workplace. Garrosh evidently prefers to keep a warm hearth, uncomfortably so in my estimation. I have, over the years, attempted to point out the needless expense he incurs by refusing to turn down the heat, but as is usually the case, he rarely listens. You would think he would at least have the front door to Grommash Hold sealed. But, oh no, much better for us to heat the whole Valley of Strength.
Are you an early morning bird or a night owl?
An early morning bird. I get up at sunrise, perhaps earlier in the winter months. I do not know, at my age, how much more time I have remaining, and I prefer not to waste more of it sleeping than need be. I will have plenty of time to sleep after I am dead. Or after 9:00 PM.
Are there any blood relatives that you are particularly close with, besides the immediate ones? Cousins, uncles, grandfathers, aunts, etc. Are there any others that you practically consider a blood relative?
All of my blood relations, save for my son Ariok, are dead — many, like Ariok’s two brothers, gone far before their time. I consider Tirion my brother; though his blood is not orcish, that blood — and mine — nevertheless bind us in honor. I just wish he would lay off the ale.
If you could time travel, where would you go?
The future, many years hence. I would like to see how all this ends, and I cannot imagine I will still be alive when the many questions of our age are finally settled.
Previous Profiles:
- Spazzle Fizzletrinket
- Ben-Lin Cloudstrider
- Dontrag and Utvoch
- Taktani
- Korrina
- Mylune
- Mokvar
- Ruekie
- Tirion Fordring
- Lady Liadrin
Quality workmanship
So, after the minor calamity of getting Golmash over to the Kor’kron stables, things have gone mostly without incident. You’ll notice I said MOSTLY without incident, not COMPLETELY without incident, because in what upside-down topsy-turvy reality would THAT ever happen? It turned out that the Kor’kron stablemasters had either overestimated the sturdiness of their enclosures, or underestimated the sturdiness of Golmash’s muscles, because when the two collided, hoo boy, things did not go well for the evidently substandard wooden planks.
And I mean, not for nothing, but wasn’t it bad enough that the goblin contractors took like two years to finish the reconstruction job in Orgrimmar after the Cataclysm? Did they have to do a shoddy job of it, too? You would THINK that for all the time spent on it, they would at least, you know, use actual wooden planks and not bundles of straw or some shit, but oh no. Serves me right for not looking into it more before I signed the contract, but I WAS only Warchief for a little while at the time. Crazy me, I just figured I could go ahead and trust Thrall’s guy to do a good job without taking any other bids. Sure, I figured, Thrall must know what he’s talking about with this Gazlowe dude. Sure, I figured, Thrall wouldn’t steer me wrong with a bad referral. Then again, considering this is the same guy who gave me referrals for three advisors who would help me as Warchief, and two of those threatened to kill me within 48 hours of me taking the job, well, I guess you could say the handwriting was on the wall about how much stock I should have put in THAT guy’s recommendations. (It’s a damn good thing I didn’t take him up on his offer to go on a blind double date with him and Aggra that one time, right? I shudder to imagine…)
Where was I? I think I got off on a tangent there. (I’ll tell you, one handy thing about this whole computer thing — other than the way they keep hiding the delete key on me — is that you can look back at what you were saying. I WISH I could scroll back up to double check things in actual conversations. Not least of all so I can check what someone else was saying when I wasn’t paying attention because who gives a fuck. That or when I need to double check to see if I just said what I think I just said because what D and/or U and/or [Insert Random Pinhead Minion of Choice Here] said in response doesn’t make the slightest damn bit of sense in context.)
Okay, I think I just did it again. BUT GETTING BACK TO THE POINT. Which was, shoddy workmanship in the stables, leading to a rather temperamental glowy-eyed wolf running around, which led to lots of chaos until we got that shit locked down. Luckily, wolf dude didn’t get at any of the other wolves or kodos before we got him back under wraps again. The only real damage done was this one peon that was closest to the pen when Golmash get loose, who wound up getting himself mostly eaten. Which kinda sucks, but oh well. I’ll send his widow a ham.
Point is, we need to take a major look at the strength of our enclosures. Granted, most of our mounts aren’t going to cause as much trouble as Golmash, but you have to wonder how many OTHER structures we’ve got that are just a little unexpected stress away from snapping on us. I’ve got one more meeting coming up with Blackfuse before I had back down to Pandaria, so I may see about getting him working on a few things between then and now.
Meanwhile, I need to see if I still have the paperwork for my damn warranty from Gazlowe somewhere. Goddamn corner cutting. I’m half tempted to toss that fucker in a pen with Golmash with only one of the barrier his people assembled to separate them, and see how much faith he’s got in his goddamn product THEN.
Monday mailbag
Another mailbag, another chance for someone to annoy the living daylights out of me. So let’s get right to it and see what’s going to piss me off this time around…
Man, am I glad to be done with my tour in Outland. Nagrand was beautiful and all, but Netherstorm had too many whiny elves and weird bandage guys. And it was too purple. Way too purple. It was good to return to Orgrimmar for a while, and even better to see the place finished! Guess you showed those goblin contractors, huh?
Of course, being home was good and all, but what the fuuuuhhhc-flip happened to Gurtash?! THIS IS WHY HAVING A MEATSHIELD IS A VERY GOOD IDEA! YOU KNOW, LIKE ME? It was good to see him, and the others in the DPS for a little while anyway (even if Gurtash was unconscious the whole time). I still can’t believe I missed him waking up, too! I wish that transport to Northrend came a few days later.
Anyway, you can probably guess where I am now, and even at your old command post! I can’t believe I got to meet THE Saurfang! He’s…not as tall as I thought he’d be, but that’s okay! I still met him and he shook my hand and *the letter goes on a bit in hastily scribbled and barely-decipherable fangirling*. Oh! He did seem kinda grumpy when I brought up that I was in your training group. What’s the deal with that, anyway?
I hope that things stay quiet while I’m up here. And if I’m needed for, like, tanky things, please please PLEASE tell me! The DPS can’t wait forever for a tank, right?
–Mirembe
Hoo boy. Here we go with a new spastic fangirl flipping the hell out because she met Saurfang. I’m not kidding, Mira, you should talk to Ruekie sometime. You two could start a club or something. You could be president, Rook could be vice-president. Or vice versa. Hell, Mokvar could probably be freaking treasurer. You could have your own secret handshake and everything. Although that would probably just consist of one of you saying “Saurfang!” and then the other one would be like “I know!” and then you both just flail and squeal for six minutes.
And you know, you’re right about the whole tanky thing, but dude, don’t act like I’M the one holding up the works. The whole reason the DPS is “waiting” on a tank is because the TANK is keeping them waiting while she gets her field training caught up to where they are! What’s next? Are you going to keep them waiting some more, then show up and be like, oh, oops, I need to run back to town and see a blacksmith because my armor’s all banged up and I didn’t think to take care of that before I came out here? Or maybe you can show up and go racing through the mission site as if there’s an outhouse at the end of it and OH MAN did you have an extra-potent heaping helping of chili for dinner. Is that what they get to look forward to?
So, yeah, punch line: STOP YAPPING AND GET YOUR SHIT IN GEAR, DAMMIT.
On the plus side, even though you missed it, Gurtash IS up and doing better. The healers are going to need to check on him for a little while, but he should be okay. UNTIL NEXT TIME. MAYBE SOME TANK SHOULD FINISH HER TRAINING LEVELS BEFORE THEN. TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK.
I’d like a package of all the blue crayons for myself, and one pack of nothin’ bu da the “trolls be trollin'” for Bob. I’d been wondering what ta get him as a present for an upcoming event, and it turn out I be saved by Garrosh’s mail bag.
–Alayea
Huh. Gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting people to jump on the crayon bandwagon so quickly, but what the hell, merchandising cash is merchandising cash. So you know what, Alayea? You’re on. One package of blues, and… oh, why not? Here, on top of the blue crayons I showed off last mailbag, go ahead and take a few bonus shades:
There you go. As for the “trolls be trollin’” pack… well, okay, I’ll send them, but I’m going to warn you: when you get that package, don’t touch it with your bare hands. Seeing as I know it’s going to that Bob guy, I might possibly have to see about Faranell doing… something special with those crayons before I send them out. Or failing that, mix in a little, ahem, gift from Mortimer. Or both. I’ll improvise something. Because fuck that Bob guy.
Anyhow, crayons on the way. Apparently this merchandising thing might bring in a few gold after all. Who knew WCB crayons would be the thing to take off? Hell, what else could I cash in on? Kafa mugs? T-shirts? Hey, how about a nice Warchief-approved bumper sticker for your chopper or whatever? Here, have at it:
Hell, maybe I should let Spazzle put those action figures of his into production after all. Maybe giving people the chance to own their very own miniature plastic ME would get the gold pouring on in. (Dammit, I should probably rephrase that last part. Garona’s probably gonna get all excited now. FUCK, where’s the delete key again?!)
It’s good to hear that Grimjaw has settled in well at the stables. Whatever task you have in store for him, I hope he serves you well.
In response to your question about my children, they are aware of the trainee program, but my daughter is only 8 years old, so I’m not sure she’s ready for that, and my son has no interest in it. He’s been practising his axe-skills for some time now and is riding Blackfang daily to bond with her before he faces his om’riggor. He’s proclaimed he’s going to become a mounted warrior and follow his Thunderlord heritage. I’ve tried telling him several times that mounted combat is actually a Warsong tradition and if he really wants to follow his clan traditions he should take up the spear and become a hunter, but he won’t listen to me. Whenever I point this out to him he just grunts and says, “My strength would be wasted on hunting beasts when the animals who killed mother still walk free.” It worries me that he’ll get himself killed trying to hunt down Detanga’s killers.
At least my daughter has taken a less violent path. I was able to talk her into walking the path of restoration magic, and now she’s an apprentice of a shaman trainer in the Valley of Wisdom, Kardris Dreamseeker. She recently mentioned helping her teacher care for Gurtash, a boy from your trainee program who was grievously wounded in battle – on which subject, my condolences, Warchief – and how she’s been having some small conversations with him to pass the time. While he still has a great deal of healing ahead of him, I’m sure he will be fine.
I wish that was all the news I had, but unfortunately I have more news to report of Golmash and his strange green eyes. It seems I was right to suspect something – his behaviour has become more noticably erratic. When my son and I give them meat for food, Golmash is very discerning; where most wolves would simply eat the meat as it was, he refuses to eat anything except the softest part of the meat. I constantly find him gazing blankly outside the wolfpen, refusing to be with or socialise with the other wolves. On one very strange occasion, I was about to sell a fine young Nagrandeur wolf to a rather darkly-dressed shaman when Golmash came up behind me and growled loudly. The most bizarre part, Warchief, is that the growling was… layered. Otherworldy. Like listening to my daughter playing around in her ghost wolf form. Suffice it to say,the shaman left in a hurry. I attempted to reprimand him but he bared his fangs and took a stance that looked ready to lunge at my throat; I didn’t live this long by taking foolish risks, so I let him go back to the other wolves.
Warchief, I am now thoroughly concerned. I’ve had him looked at and examined by vets, shamans, mages and trained medics and no one can seem to pick up a reason for his behaviour. No sickness, no disease, no curse – there is no logical reason whatsoever. I almost laughed at the idea that the wolf Skychaser and Ner’zhul by proxy had something to do with all this… now, I’m not so sure I should laugh about it.
My apologies, Warchief. I fear I really have drawn your grandfather’s name into a dark and uncertain situation.
–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master
Hey, Ogunaro, good to hear from you again. So, a few points for you. A quick one first — I should have an update for you on Grimjaw soon. As I’ve mentioned, I’ve looked in on him a few times at the Kor’kron stables, and he seems to be settled in pretty well. Still seems like he has a little growing to do, but he’s a young wolf, as you’ve said, and he’s already stronger than a lot of others that are already full-sized. All of which adds up to an overall bright future for him. Again… updates on him soon.
Now, as for our OTHER wolf situation… Yeah, I don’t like the sound of this at all. Like…at ALL. I can’t say I’ve got any solid answers right now, but there’s definitely something fishy going on with this worg. So, here’s our starting point: right off, I want you to isolate Golmash. Keep him in a separate pen that will give him plenty of room to move around and do his normal wolfy things, but will also keep him completely separate from the other wolves. Until we know for sure what’s behind all this, I don’t want to take any chances with the others — whether it’s Golmash getting riled up and attacking them, or somehow spreading whatever it is that’s affecting him. I know you said you couldn’t find any diseases or curses or whatever, but there’s obviously SOMETHING happening with this wolf, so until we know for sure what it is, I don’t want to rule ANYTHING out. Matter of fact, just to be safe, I’m going to send a couple Kor’kron beastmasters over to give a hand moving him. I’m sure you’re plenty capable, Ogunaro, but it doesn’t hurt to have a couple other people who know a thing or two about animals on hand to help keep you covered.
So that’s step one. As for step two, for your purposes it’s going to consist mostly of holding tight for the time being. I’m going to see about sending someone over to have another look at Golmash. I know you said you’ve already had him examined by healers and shaman and so forth, but the person I have in mind has a pretty particular set of skills and experience that might be kind of useful in this case. So, hold down the fort and help should be on the way soon. We’ll get to the bottom of this one way or another.
Okay, so, now that that’s covered, on to one last item: your son and his om’riggor preparations and whatnot. So, just so I’m clear here… how old is your son? The reason I ask is because, well, you said that he “has no interest” in the military trainee program, and that’s all well and good… but the program isn’t exactly voluntary. When we put it into effect some months ago, the whole point of it was to recruit all able-bodied orcs aged fourteen and up. Well, up to seventeen, technically, but past that age I would figure they would already have passed their om’riggor and be out serving the Horde in some capacity. Anyhow, I don’t know if you just never got the memo about this, or maybe the notification wasn’t clear enough, in which case, yeesh, someone must have really dropped the ball writing it up, which means now I need to go crack down on some motherfuckers over in the public relations department. Which means I need to go find out if we have a public relations department. Goddamn, being Warchief is a lot of work. ANYHOW.
Point is, interested or not, chances are your son should already BE in the trainee program. But, before you start flipping out and panicking, I think this might actually be a blessing in disguise. You say your son’s hell-bent on avenging his mother’s death, but you’re worried he might run off and do something foolhardy. Well, here’s a win-win situation for everyone: you can pitch the whole trainee gig as a way for him to hone his skills so he’ll be that much MORE ready to kick some Alliance ass… but at the same time, he’ll be under the direct supervision of a veteran Horde soldier. Which means, he’ll always be under the watchful eye of someone who’s been around long enough to know the difference between seizing glory and courting disaster. No going off the radar, no reckless suicide missions, no surprises. And then, when he’s ready — really ready — he’ll get that chance to make the Alliance pay.
In the meantime, too, I can see about getting him into a group with a Thunderlord veteran. If you want. That way, he can get some exposure to traditional Thunderlord combat methods, work on his spear work and hunting prowess, that sort of thing. Not that you’re not perfectly capable of teaching him yourself, Ogunaro, but he might be a little more receptive if it’s coming from a fresh voice. Failing that, if he’s really got his heart set on mounted combat, I can see about getting him some Warsong supervision. That last option would be easy enough for me to swing, seeing as how I kinda have a smidgen of influence in that particular clan.
I have a question for you about Orc physiology! I’ve noticed that many Orcs such as yourself don’t have eyebrows. While others, like Garona or Gurtash do. Is there a reason for this? Are eyebrows a genetic trait that some Orcs have, and others don’t? Is eyebrow plucking simply a fashionable thing among many Orcs?
Your ever curious reader,
–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City
Curious about orc physiology, huh, Tandeleina? Is that what you’re calling it these days? Okay. I’ll buy that.
I’m just gonna leave this here: #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh.
Now, to answer your question.
You know, I actually hear this all the time, and it’s really not that hard to put together if you pay attention. You’re right, some orcs have eyebrows and some don’t. But if you look closely, there’s a much clearer pattern to it. See, all orcs have eyebrows as children. Just drop by the Orgrimmar orphanage, or, hell, check any of Gurtash’s drawings of the DPS trainees. Once they reach adolescence, though, male orcs start to lose their eyebrows. It usually corresponds with the appearance of facial hair — the beard starts coming in, and the eyebrows start thinning out. Don’t ask me to explain what’s different between eyebrow follicles and beard follicles, but there you go. Case in point, actually, is Kulkesh from the DPS. He’s starting to get some stubble, and if you take a close look at him, you can see he’s also starting to lose his eyebrows. Eventually the same will happen to Gurtash. Orc women, on the other hand, don’t lose their eyebrows. They keep them all their lives. It’s only adult orc men who don’t have them.
As for why it works out this way, I’m guessing it has something to do with the changes in male orc body chemistry during puberty. Smart money says it’s the increase in testosterone that happens when we go from adolescence to adulthood. So testosterone causes orcs to lose their eyebrows. There you go.
And so, with that in mind, before anyone else chimes in to ask…
I mean, you do the math. I’m just the messenger here. Science doesn’t lie, bitches.
That’s going to do it for this time around. Before I wrap up, though, one last note: Looks like we’ve got a bunch of people taking an interest in Gurtash. Which I guess isn’t surprising, what with the not-completely-low-grade freakout people had when that spectral assassin first smacked him down. But here, I’ve got an idea. Gurtash is still going to be resting up for a few days at least, maybe longer, while the healers make sure he’s fully recovered and good to go. So he could probably use a little something to distract himself with. SO, how about this — since that guest mailbag that Shayari did a few weeks back went over pretty well, let’s give the kid one of his own. This way you people can pass along your well-wishes and ask him whatever you want, directly. So get your letters for Gurtash to me over the next few days, then I’ll put up a BONUS mailbag with his responses.
Hmm. Does that mean I’m going to need to pick out a text color for HIM now? Fuck, I just keep making more work for myself. Mostly for Gurtash, granted, but also for me. Dammit.
[Garrosh’s next mailbag will be Monday, January 4. But in the interim, as the Warchief just promised, we’ll also have a GUEST mailbag featuring letters to Gurtash next Monday, December 28. Get those letters in ASAP! (And please make clear whether you’re writing to Gurtash or Garrosh.) As always, use the email link in the right sidebar, or fill in the handy form below!]
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. 😉 (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. 😉
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 Who’s-Her-Whisper actually mocking ol’ King Ponytail when he thinks he’s 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, we’d have to make sure that nobody hooked him up with one of those PMS devices, because we can’t rob ourselves of the hilarity by letting Varian distract her with something small and furry. Plus, trust me, I’ve 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 that’s like a mannequin with a face that looks all interested, that plays a recording of someone going “Tell me more! I want to hear all about it!” Or you could do an anti-Velen device that’s just a big sign that says “Burning Legion invading — planetary exit this way!” Or you could do an anti-Magatha device that basically consists of Gorehowl chopping her into little tiny pieces because fuck her.
Obviously, I’m 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 you’ve 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 we’ll 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 days’ 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. They’re all gross and crawly and, like you said, they have way more legs than any self-respecting person should ever have, and let’s 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 Malaka’jin 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.
It’s 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, I’m pretty sure Thalassian Brandy would like to know. She could have a personal 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.
Wait… 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 you’ve got the “so much to say” pretty well covered. Let’s not drag Ruekie into this.
It would seem a certain metal-beared goblin had quite a bit to say
Hi, pot. This is Sarlin. You’re 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 it’s 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 she’s 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-WHO’S-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.
I’ll bet you anything she’s 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, I’ve got an idea, how about I get Faranell in here and you can give him a whole speech about making sure he doesn’t 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 don’t get paid enough for this job. I really don’t.
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 “tiring speeches” immediately after Sarlin’s letter.
That said… Hang on, you mean I’m getting stuck with ANOTHER bill? Is this how things work for that panda-Tirion Zhu guy? Something happens that you don’t 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 let’s not even get STARTED on the reagents! I’m going over this list, and there is LITERALLY nothing on here that I can’t walk over to the Valley of Wisdom and buy for pocket change. DON’T 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 it’s not just Zhu’s-his-face gouging me with like an 8000% markup, this might be an opportunity to put a dent in the ol’ 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 Boy’s asking price… Hmm…
Spirits help me, I’m 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. It’s like you’re the anti-Sarlin or something. First off, though:
Now granted, you didn’t exactly endear yourself to me with the Garry thing (and I mean, seriously, people, isn’t 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 there’s 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 ol’ 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 he’s going.
Anyway, you got to the point, you delivered a good burn on EACH side of the faction divide, and what the hell, I’m 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, he’d gone over by twenty.)
Came down with giggle fits,
Would have lost all his wits,
If to start with he’d even had any.
In his stupor he thought he’d 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 don’t 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 they’d 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 I’m stuck with the bill for those two.
I’m pissed off, but whatever —
You know you can’t ever
Spell “dumbass” without D and U.
You asked for some rhymes, so I wrote ’em,
About morons who smashed up some totems.
They’re going to need hearses —
At least some good nurses,
’Cause they’re gonna get stabbed in their scrotums.
EPIC VERSE!
Okay, that’s going to do it for this time. As always, keep those letters coming!
[Next mailbag December 7! E-mail the Warchief using the link at the top of the right sidebar, or use the handy form below:]
Divided Loyalties
Since I’ve been back in Orgrimmar, I’ve been kept so busy most days that I’ve hardly had time to stop, catch my breath, and really get back to the normal, mundane business of everyday life. It hasn’t just been the meetings with Garrosh, or the time spent in Ragefire Chasm with Overseer Elaglo or the Cleft of Shadow with Neeru. (Who hasn’t gotten any less coolly unsettling, by the way.) The biggest time sink has been getting my life back together in tangible terms. I suppose most people never need to worry about the practical ramifications of their own deaths, but believe me, when you’re exiled, then declared dead, getting all of that backtracked and your life out of mothballs is a giant pain. Honestly, I used to chuckle at Garrosh getting all irritable over paperwork and triplicate forms. Never again.
In retrospect, it’s a little ironic that Neeru mentioned the other day how unlikely he thought it would be for me to hide the Nether Prism at my house, where someone could break in and steal it. I don’t know if there’s anyplace in Orgrimmar that would have been MORE secure; at that point, my old place was still sealed up under Kor’kron security orders. Any rogue this side of Garona would have had an easier time stealthing into Orgrimmar than breaking into my place. After returning to town, I ended up spending more time cutting through red tape than anything else – getting my house unlocked, my old stuff pulled from storage and returned, my name removed from death records all over the place… Although, honestly, if the tax office wants to go on thinking I’m dead, I probably won’t complain about that one.
Still, all the time I’ve had to spend getting my life back together, combined with all the time spent meeting with the people I’ve needed to, means that until now I haven’t had much time to get caught up with some of the people I’ve wanted to.
JI: Oh… so… are we not having lunch?
SPAZZLE: Uh oh. Here we go…
MOKVAR: Lunch? Well, no, I hadn’t really… Are you hungry?
SPAZZLE: Wow, you really have been away for a long time.
JI: Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.
MOKVAR: Okay. Yeah, sorry, Ji.
JI: It’s just that I suppose I assumed, given the time you said to come over, that we would be having lunch…
MOKVAR: Right. But, no, Ji, I wasn’t thinking lunch. Just that we could sit back and have a few drinks and talk.
JI: Drinks are good!
MOKVAR: Okay, great. So why don’t you guys—
JI: I suppose it’s my mistake. I should have thought to eat earlier.
MOKVAR: Um… would you like me to get you something, Ji?
JI: Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.
MOKVAR: Right. So…
JI: I could swear I smelled something cooking, though.
MOKVAR: Yeah… that’s, um, that’s some clefthoof stew I have simmering for dinner tonight.
SPAZZLE: You realize you’re just digging yourself deeper, right?
JI: Oh, I see… so it’s not ready yet?
MOKVAR: Well… it is, but… I mean, it’s one of those things where it gets better the longer you let it simmer. So I usually let it sit for most of the day, and…
JI: Oh, I’m not picky! It doesn’t have to be perfect.
SPAZZLE: Aaaaaaaand here we go.
MOKVAR: Would… you like some, Ji?
JI: Just a small helping, if you please.
MOKVAR: Um… okay. Why don’t you guys have a seat while I…yeah.
Mokvar retrieves a large pot from the hearth while Spazzle and Ji sit around a circular table.
SPAZZLE: <turning to look at side of his chair> Mokvar, what’s up with these stickers on your stuff?
Mokvar returns and sets a plate on the table before Ji.
MOKVAR: Oh, those? That’s from Kor’kron impoundment.
SPAZZLE: Yikes. How much did they take out of here?
MOKVAR: A lot.
Mokvar scoops a small ladle of stew onto Ji’s plate. Ji leans down to inspect the food a moment, then looks up at Mokvar quizzically.
Is… something wrong?
JI: Well, I did mean a little larger small helping.
MOKVAR: Well maybe it would save time if you just took the whole—
Ji snatches the pot from Mokvar happily.
JI: Thank you, Mokvar!
Ji starts ladling large scoops of stew onto his plate.
MOKVAR: <turning back to Spazzle> Did you want some, too, Spaz?
Ji looks up from the food with an expression of faint concern.
SPAZZLE: No, I’m good.
Ji beams and continues shoveling stew onto his plate.
MOKVAR: Anyway… yeah, they took most of the stuff out of here. Pretty much anything you could carry without needing a second set of hands.
SPAZZLE: Yikes. Your computer, too?
MOKVAR: Oh, man, that was the biggest headache to get back.
SPAZZLE: Did they go through your files? Or could you even tell?
Ji sets down the pot and ties a napkin around his neck.
MOKVAR: I don’t think so. <chuckles> My password lock showed something like five hundred failed attempts to log on.
Ji rubs his paws together, then starts to eat eagerly.
SPAZZLE: Eesh. You know, I’ll bet you anything Malkorok was beating his head against the wall on that one personally.
MOKVAR: Oh no doubt. That’s why I made a point of setting a password he’d never think to try.
SPAZZLE: Oh? What was it?
MOKVAR: “Malkorok.”
SPAZZLE: Ha!
JI: <mouth full of stew> Daff’s fweally thpart, Bokbar.
MOKVAR: Um…thanks. Need any salt, Ji?
JI: <back to eating> Doh tahk yew.
SPAZZLE: That was pretty clever, though. I bet it ticked him off something fierce not being able to crack it.
MOKVAR: I’m half surprised they didn’t bring you in to try to hack in. I’m sure you could have.
SPAZZLE: <shrugs> Who knows. I was probably under suspicion myself by that point. Speaking of which, actually…
Spazzle starts digging through his backpack, then produces a small totem of orcish design.
You gave me this. Back in Everlook. I know you probably don’t need it anymore, or even… well, you know, what with you not being a shaman anymore, but…
Spazzle hands the totem to Mokvar.
I figured it should come back to you either way.
MOKVAR: Thanks.
Mokvar looks at the totem in his hands for a moment, then carries it to the mantle over the hearth and sets it down. Ji looks up at what Mokvar is doing, then turns his attention back to ladling more stew onto his plate.
I don’t figure I’ll have much use for these anymore, yeah. Who knows, though, the way Elaglo and Xorenth are blurring the lines between shamans and warlocks.
SPAZZLE: With the dark shamans, you mean?
MOKVAR: Yeah.
SPAZZLE: What are they doing down there, anyway?
MOKVAR: Mostly working on improving their elemental command spells. They’re pretty much trying to maintain better control of summoned elementals, making it less of an “elements hear my prayer” and more of an “elements do my bidding.”
Mokvar walks back to the table.
SPAZZLE: Like the molten giants at Northwatch.
MOKVAR: Yeah, exactly.
Mokvar looks into the now-empty pot sitting on the table next to Ji, then looks to Ji himself.
All done?
JI: <looks down at his empty plate, then smiles> It was very good, thank you!
MOKVAR: Sure you won’t have any more?
JI: <looks at his plate again, then back up> Is there any more?
MOKVAR: No, there isn’t.
JI: I thought not.
MOKVAR: Yeah. So…
SPAZZLE: For what it’s worth, you’re getting off lighter than I did the last time Ji ate at my place.
MOKVAR: Why? What happened?
JI: Oh bother.
SPAZZLE: He got stuck in the door on his way out.
MOKVAR: You’re…kidding.
JI: It wasn’t my fault!
SPAZZLE: Well it all comes from eating too much.
JI: It all comes from not having front doors big enough!
SPAZZLE: Well, next time, you can host.
JI: I will!
MOKVAR: Well, anyway…
JI: What should I make?
SPAZZLE: Huh?
JI: When you come over.
SPAZZLE: I… we didn’t even really plan it.
JI: Well yes, but I like to plan what I’m cooking in advance!
SPAZZLE: I, um, I’m easy to please.
JI: I might need to go shopping, after all.
SPAZZLE: Really, Ji, you don’t need to make anything special on my account.
MOKVAR: Spaz.
JI: Oh, nonsense. You’re a guest. <thoughtfully> Now, there’s also the Pandaren Noodle Festival to think of…
SPAZZLE: The what?
MOKVAR: Spaz.
JI: Well I wouldn’t want to repeat something being served at the festival and seem lazy, after all…
SPAZZLE: No, really, anything you would make—
JI: You’re sure? I would hate for you to come all that way and not have something you enjoyed.
MOKVAR: Ji, I think what he means is that he’d like to be surprised.
SPAZZLE: Uh…
JI: Oh!
MOKVAR: That’s part of the fun of being a lunch guest…right, Spazzle?
JI: I like surprises!
SPAZZLE: Um… Oh. Yeah! Surprises. Yes sir, nothing more fun than…uh… surprise lunch. Yeah.
JI: Oh, this will be fun. I can try making— oh, oops, I almost spoiled it.
SPAZZLE: No spoilers!
JI: Yes, yes, silly me. I— wait, when are you coming over again?
SPAZZLE: Uh…
MOKVAR: That’s part of the surprise.
JI: <blinks> Oh.
SPAZZLE: Uh, right!
JI: Well I suppose that’s… <tilts head> I should have thought of that. How silly of me.
Mokvar slumps into a chair.
SPAZZLE: So hey, now that you’re working over there with those dark shaman guys, have you been able to find out how Garrosh managed to bring them on board?
MOKVAR: How do you mean?
SPAZZLE: You know, like after he shut them down when they were in Ragefire Chasm before.
JI: They used to be enemies?
SPAZZLE: It was before you got to town, Ji. But yeah. Rumors about them were flying all over the place, but no one ever really got any solid information. All anybody really knows is that we had expeditions going down into Ragefire for a while trying to shut down whatever they were doing.
JI: Oh. So now they’re on our side?
SPAZZLE: Apparently.
MOKVAR: Yeah. About that.
SPAZZLE: Uh oh. It’s never something good when people start like that.
MOKVAR: Yeah.
Mokvar sits quietly for a moment.
SPAZZLE: Oh geez. That bad, huh? What did Garrosh have to offer them to bring them over?
MOKVAR: It’s not that. They were always over.
SPAZZLE: The what you say?
JI: I’m confused.
SPAZZLE: Welcome to Orgrimmar.
MOKVAR: The dark shamans were always Kor’kron operatives. Even in the beginning, when it looked like they were renegades making trouble in RFC. The whole business about them being some rogue shaman group was just a front they were putting up.
SPAZZLE: They— but why?
MOKVAR: Plausible deniability, I guess? In case their dark shamanism angle turned bad? Meanwhile… the expeditions that were sent down there to “clean up” the problem were just… training exercises, pretty much. A way to weed out the weak – on both ends.
SPAZZLE: Wait – so Garrosh knew about this? He planned it?
MOKVAR: Big picture, it was his plan to build a force of dark shamans. How much he knew about the nuts and bolts… I don’t know. I’m guessing at least some of the job of making the trains run on time went to Malkorok, but… I don’t know. I’m still being kept in the dark about a lot of things. I probably know too much as it is. Hell, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this much.
SPAZZLE: Gee, thanks.
MOKVAR: I don’t mean like that. Hell, Spaz, I wouldn’t…
Mokvar trails off, looking back at the extinguished totem on the mantle, then gestures to it as he turns back to Spazzle.
I wouldn’t have left that with you if I didn’t trust you. I just mean I’ve already dragged you into too much trouble as it is. I don’t want you to be stuck keeping more secrets again now.
SPAZZLE: Uh… yeah… About that…
Spazzle looks around uncomfortably, then stares at the floor for a moment.
<quietly> I’ve been talking to Vol’jin.
MOKVAR: You’ve… been…
SPAZZLE: A lot. For a few months now.
MOKVAR: Uh, Spaz, I know you’re a shaman and talk to ancestral spirits and all…
SPAZZLE: Well, in theory.
MOKVAR: Yeah, well, the point is, I didn’t realize that the spirits in question included trolls for you.
SPAZZLE: No, no, they don’t. I don’t mean I’m… Vol’jin’s alive.
MOKVAR: He— wha— how?
SPAZZLE: I actually blogged about this, you know.
MOKVAR: Yeah, sorry, that must have been during that period when I was sort of preoccupied with not being corpsecamped by spectral assassins.
SPAZZLE: Yeah, well. He’s alive. He’s recovering from injuries still in Pandaria, but he’s alive.
MOKVAR: Okay, so… Vol’jin’s alive, Jaina’s a warmonger, Garrosh has a half-draenei kid – what else did I miss? Is Utvoch dating Magatha? Did Alleria and Turalyon finally turn up? Did Grommash actually not drink the blood—
SPAZZLE: Well now you’re getting ridiculous.
MOKVAR: Well who knows at this point? How is Vol’jin alive? He survived the saurok attack after all?
SPAZZLE: It wasn’t a saurok attack. I mean, there were saurok, but… One of the Kor’kron tried to kill Vol’jin. Nearly did. He left him for dead, and Vol’jin’s had his supporters keeping up the lie that he is dead since then.
MOKVAR: Oh fel… And Garrosh…?
SPAZZLE: Doesn’t know. And he can’t find out.
MOKVAR: So… you mean he…?
SPAZZLE: Yeah.
MOKVAR: You’re sure? I don’t know why I’m even surprised, but… you’re sure?
SPAZZLE: The Kor’kron staged a takeover of the Echo Isles right after word of Vol’jin’s death broke.
MOKVAR: Spirits…
SPAZZLE: They had the place under military occupation until Thrall and a few others overthrew them.
MOKVAR: Does Garrosh know about this? I can’t imagine he does, otherwise – and I can’t believe I’m about to say this – I have to figure he would be in a much worse mood these days.
SPAZZLE: No, he doesn’t. Only a few people do.
MOKVAR: But how? I can see the Vol’jin thing being kept quiet, okay, but how could he not have found out about this?
SPAZZLE: There were still a few Kor’kron who trained under Saurfang, who are loyal to Thrall. Captain Gort, a few others… They’ve been reporting to Orgrimmar and maintaining the appearance that the occupation is still going on.
MOKVAR: Spaz… you have to know where this is heading.
SPAZZLE: <nods> I’ve been trying not to think about it.
MOKVAR: So you haven’t told Garrosh… Are you…?
SPAZZLE: <shakes his head> I haven’t been doing anything for them other than keeping quiet. I told Vol’jin before… I won’t work against him and Thrall, but I won’t betray Garrosh, either.
MOKVAR: You know if he finds out about this…
SPAZZLE: I know.
MOKVAR: Especially after… oh, man, Spaz, I’m sorry I dragged you into my whole mess. Both of you.
JI: You didn’t do anything. You’re a friend. You needed help. <shrugs> Anything else is just distraction.
SPAZZLE: Don’t worry about me, Mokvar. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is.
JI: <perking up> Wait, is there another plate?
SPAZZLE: Figuratively, Ji, figuratively…
VOICE: Well, there is…
A whooshing sound is heard, then, in the empty chair next to Mokvar, Deliana unstealths, holding a plate of what appears to be a few leftover bites of stew.
DELIANA: I had to move fast just to get a mouthful for myself before you inhaled it all.
Mokvar eyes a surprised Spazzle and Ji, then shrugs.
MOKVAR: What’s one more layer of compromise at this point, right?
SPAZZLE: Oh…man.
JI: Does Garrosh know she’s—?
MOKVAR: What do you think, Ji?
DELIANA: There aren’t exactly a lot of Alliance-looking types strolling around Orgrimmar unkilled.
JI: Well, that Shayari is a draenei…
DELIANA: Oh, don’t get me started on little miss fancy-hooves.
MOKVAR: You’re just mad because she turned you into a sheep.
DELIANA: Oh, good, annoy your security net. That’s a smart plan.
MOKVAR: I’m just saying.
SPAZZLE: So wait, how long have you been in Orgrimmar?
MOKVAR: Pretty much as long as I have.
DELIANA: I’ve had to sneak in and out a few times, but yeah.
SPAZZLE: What have you been doing?
DELIANA: Mostly giving Mokvar an extra set of eyes that no one knows is there. And some help on stand-by in case something goes bad.
MOKVAR: With everything that’s going on with the shamans, and Neeru, and… hell, I can’t even be sure Malkorok might not still try something at some point.
DELIANA: I can watch his back, and stealth around to check on things. And if nothing else, we know I don’t have anyone I have to answer to.
SPAZZLE: Yeah. You’re lucky that way.
Everyone sits quietly for a moment, looking back and forth between them.
MOKVAR: Well… whatever happens from here on, one way or another, I guess we’re all in it together now.
JI: Weren’t we always?
MOKVAR: You’re a good kid, Ji.
SPAZZLE: So… question is… what side are we on?
Mokvar looks back at Spazzle uneasily, then glances to Deliana. Spazzle exchanges looks with Mokvar and Ji, while Deliana leans forward against the table, drumming her fingers. Ji returns Spazzle’s glance, then turns to Mokvar and Deliana before looking back down at his plate. He considers the last bit of potato for a moment, then nudges the plate away from him and slumps back in his chair.
Mokvar
Mak’gora, verbal style
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
GARROSH HELLSCREAM
VS.
THRALL
BEGIN!
GARROSH:
I got the Scourge under wraps, so this round won’t be postponed.
Good thing Blackmoore named you Thrall, ’cause you’re about to be owned.
“Green Jesus,” never wrong? You were never warrior-strong –
Now I’ll shove those beads around your neck back up where they belong.
Aedelas gave you training; Taretha gave you sympathy;
I won’t say what Jaina gave you, but it’s BoP.
You might as well call yourself human, how you were shaped and apprenticed;
All you need’s some beige paint and a trip to the dentist.
Your reign as Warchief was a joke, and you are as well:
Every time I hear your name, I Go’EL-OH-EL.
You left me picking up your mess, and then I watched you leave it:
You failed to serve the Horde – now I’ll crush you beneath it.
THRALL:
Too often since I went away I’ve heard tell of your crimes,
And I don’t know what disappoints me more: you or your rhymes.
I led the orcs from enslavement to the land we inhabit;
I only made one mistake – and I’m looking at it.
You’re not worthy of your line, you’re twisted as an ampersand;
You’re rhymes are weak and I won’t cheer, but I might give you a big hand.
You’ll keep losing your supporters and the lands you used to hold;
From your mailbag to your reign, you just keep on getting trolled.
So when they finally lead you off bound with chains and rope,
Where you’re going, drop some rhymes – but watch you don’t drop the soap.
I was blind to your crimes, but now you’ve gone past the line;
Now it’s time you finally answered—
[Thrall hurls the Doomhammer at Garrosh; before it reaches him, though, Orgrim Doomhammer leaps in and catches it.]
ORGRIM:
Yeah, I think this is mine.
Step aside for a real Warchief; challenge me, you’re going to lose.
You might wear my battle armor, but you could never fill my shoes.
Blackhand left our people pinned under Gul’dan’s thumb;
I showed a race enslaved that they could overcome;
I thought that you were fated to hold fast what we created,
But the going got unstable, and the unstable abdicated.
You made a half-assed call not knowing what the pros and cons were;
You played Frankenstein, then washed your hands of your monster.
And you now, Orcish Karloff – you plagued our kind like a pox,
And locked away our people’s hopes inside a heart-shaped box.
We both tried to tear an Anduin limb from unskilled limb,
Only mine was an adult – and I actually killed him.
Your challenge was a waste of time; you should have withdrawn it,
’Cause I own you both like the city that’s got my name written on it.
[The wall behind them crumbles to reveal a makeshift Dark Portal, through which Blackhand emerges.]
BLACKHAND:
You people must be joking; now you might as well bounce,
Because you’re never trounce the one and only Warchief who counts.
The first to be crowned, rhyming fury unbound;
I built a mighty war machine – you ran it into the ground.
Well I’m back – I was the first, the best to rally orcish masses,
Now I’ll T.H. White Once-and-Future on your asses.
I’m unimpressed, Orgrim, with the rhymes you’ve busted.
Now I’ll correct my one mistake: thinking you could be trusted.
Our bond was iron, loyalty withstanding any test;
Your oath was what a noob picks through on an Outland quest.
So bring it on, Backstabber, and I’ll swat you right back;
You pose no threat; you’d better bet the pimp Hand is Black.
ORGRIM:
You want to take me on, Blackhand? You’d best hope for luck,
’Cause you only ever beat me in a timeline that sucks.
Lust for power kept you dreaming, so you were blind to Gul’dan’s scheming,
Then you followed Hellscream’s lead and sold us out to the demons.
You were Warchief in name, but power? Every last ounce’ll
Dribble down to you for show, straight from the Shadow Council.
It wasn’t till I took command that the First War was won—
BLACKHAND:
And then you led us to internment – yeah, nice work there, son.
THRALL:
We led the orcs back from the fall your madness brought on;
You may be Medivh’s king, but you were Gul’dan’s pawn.
You were a figurehead at best, with a fel employer;
It was only to your own kind that you were the Destroyer.
Oh, but since you mention sons, yours tried to demand
That he should rule, but he got his – by the Warchief’s command.
BLACKHAND:
Oh, look, the junior partner – sad you’re what would become of us;
No surprise, though; like your father, you were never really one of us.
Go play dress-up all you want; fish for praise but you won’t get it,
You just let others do the work and then swoop in to take the credit.
I earned my place as the greatest, and that glory will last—
GARROSH:
At least till Metzen gets another retcon hair up his ass…
BLACKHAND:
Yes, let’s get to you, pox boy, we’ll finish this quickly.
You’ve got rhymes like your childhood: rejected and sickly.
You couldn’t even finish this sad son of Durotan’s –
You should have Bane’d his back in half when you had the chance.
Captain Hammer here’s weak, but he still brought you ruination—
GARROSH:
That’s only ’cause I didn’t gem plot armor penetration.
Now you two old-school has-beens, watch your legacies unravel;
You’re done and gone (except for maybe FUCKING TIME TRAVEL).
My line is stuff of legends; your alias is famed –
They must have thought you’re Tom Riddle, ’cause you couldn’t be named.
I own my every call, each choice a notch in my own belt;
You couldn’t be more of a puppet if they’d made you out of felt.
I’m triumphant and a hero! I’ve slain humans, drakes, and liches!
I ride a wyvern that’s more badass than any of you bitches!
The greatest Warchief of them all, from the last to the first –
Epic mount, epic name, epic life, EPIC VERSE!
WHO WON?
WHO’S NEXT?
YOU DECIDE!
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
[A quick two-part programming note: First, keep those suggestions coming! While they will no longer be a regular weekly feature (because, whew, these are hard to write on a tight schedule!), I may still sprinkle them into the blog now and again, if these great suggestions keep coming in and people seem to be enjoying them.
Second — I’ve decided to push Garrosh’s next mailbag from this coming Monday to the following Monday (May 11), to allow the blog’s “main storyline” events to reach a point where the mailbag will seem less forced. After this month, we’ll be back to our normal schedule of a mailbag the first Monday of each month. Keep those letters coming!]
30 Days of Character Development #8: Ruekie
[Periodically, a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about!]
Name: Rue’kara (“Ruekie”)
Occupation: Horde military trainee
Race: Orc
Class: Shaman (elemental)
Age: 15
Group affiliations: Horde (citizen), Dead Peons Society (a.k.a. “DPS,” member)
Known relatives: Norok (father), Ba’laka (mother), Tue’kara (“Tuekie,” twin sister), Gru’vak (younger brother), Shayis Steelfury (aunt), Saru Steelfury (uncle), Sumi (cousin), Tumi (cousin)
Earth Online notes: Ruekie does not play Earth Online. (She might be scandalized by trade chat if she did.)
First appearance: “Dead Peons Society” (first appearance of the DPS as a group), “Underground farmer’s market” (first named appearance)
Key posts and plot points:
- Ruekie and her sister, Tuekie, were among the group of “high aptitude” trainees whom Garrosh took under his direct supervision in “Being a role model is a full-time job” and who embraced the group nickname of “Dead Peons Society,” or DPS, in the eponymous post. When Garrosh left Orgrimmar to join the Horde’s forces in Pandaria, he brought most of the trainees with him, including Ruekie. (For one reason or another, a handful of the trainees stayed behind in Durotar, including Ruekie’s sister, rogue trainee Tuekie.
- Ruekie’s first named appearance in “Underground farmer’s market,” in which Garrosh found an Earth Online dollar-farming operation in Pandaria. Ruekie had the relatively merciful idea of stopping the operation by pointing out to the young dollar farmers that Horde trainees were paid an allowance considerably greater than their modest pay, and, well, that was the end of that.
- In “Departures,” Ruekie joined the rest of the DPS in Pandaria on what was meant to be a routine operation at the Temple of the Red Crane. That was before A Little Patience happened, though, and Alliance forces routed the Horde troops at the temple. Ruekie and the rest of the DPS fled to a nearby system of caves, here Garrosh would eventually find them.
- The trainees’ underground episode in Krasarang provided a few major Ruekie moments: Before Garrosh arrived, the DPS had encountered saurok in the cave, and during the ensuing battle,
fellow trainee Lok’osh was killed; after Garrosh found the surviving trainees, an agonized Ruekie confided in the Warchief about her unsuccessful attempt to heal Lok’osh…leading to a rare “Garrosh has a soul” moment (“Don’t blame the healer”). Later, during the group’s escape from the saurok caves, Ruekie’s command of the elements played a key role in bailing the Warchief out of a precarious position (“Exit strategy”).
- Ruekie, as a shaman, has always been a devoted admirer of Thrall. (As opposed to her more hawkish sister, Tuekie, who is an avid Garrosh fan. Perhaps a bit too much. Like, Garona-esque too much.) In light of her relatively positive interactions with Garrosh during the Krasarang adventure, it’s anyone’s guess who she would side with now. You know, in the unlikely event that those two should come into conflict somehow.
- Ruekie maintains a Twitter presence at @RuekieShaman. Her Twitter voice is provided by long-time reader and commenter Rakael, whose in-game character Ruekie is the basis for her in-blog namesake. Many thanks to Rakael for generously allowing me to steal her orc alt baby for my own nefarious purposes here, and for her ongoing contributions to Ruekie’s character (many of which appear in this very profile).
In her own words:
Describe your relationship with your mother or your father. Was it good? Bad? Were you spoiled rotten, ignored? Do you still get along now, or no?
My parents…well, I can’t say we had a bad relationship, I guess, but they were pretty much just there and not much else. After the orcs moved to Kalimdor, my family didn’t settle in Durotar. Instead, they moved to Camp Taurajo in the Barrens, which is where they raised Tuekie and me. They never really taught us about orcish ways or customs. Most of the time they were too busy dipping into the felweed brownies or whatever. So Tuekie and I ended up spending most of our time with the tauren. Tuekie was more outgoing, more of an explorer, connected with other orcs more easily when they passed through the camp. I kept to myself a lot more. Living with the tauren is what got me started studying the elements.
How vain are you? Do you find yourself attractive?
I…um, me? Do I…well, not really, I guess. I’m just me. Um… <blush>
What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?
Tigule and Foror’s Temple of Caramel-bor! Brown (I know, not super exciting, but it’s soothing and reminds me of the earth). Lakota’mani Girls (it’s a fun tauren festival song…people don’t seem to realize, but those tauren know how to throw a party!). Marsh lilies.
Who do you trust?
I completely trust my teammates. They’re really the first orcs I’ve hung around with on any kind of regular basis where I feel at home. I’ll always admire Thrall as a shaman and for everything he did after the Cataclysm. I didn’t really know what to expect from Garrosh when we started training with him, but he’s really done a lot to try to help us and take care of us. Even me, when I really needed it.
Can you define a turning point in your life? Multiples are acceptable.
I was too young to remember the internment – Tuekie and I were barely born when the orcs fled to Kalimdor – so that change in our lives didn’t really register. The thing that really shook up everything was when Camp Taurajo was destroyed. Afterward, we moved to Durotar and settled in well enough, but the memory of fleeing across the Barrens – not knowing where we were going, looking around wondering if Alliance were about to come for us, still smelling the smoke from the village – will stick with me for as long as I live. Camp T was the closest thing to a home I ever knew. Spirits keep you, Omusa.
Is there an animal you equate to yourself?
A wolf! Spirit puppy FTW! Awooo!
What does your bed look like when you wake up? Are the covers off on one side of the bed, are they all curled around a pillow, sprawled everywhere? In what position do you sleep?
The covers are usually off to the side even before I go to sleep I get too hot with them most of the time. I sleep in kind of a weird position…it’s sort of hard to describe, actually. Maybe it would be better for you to see it for yourself? … Why are you looking at me like that? I just said… <eyes go wide> Oh jeepers! I, um, no, I didn’t mean— that is— I’m not— Next question, please! <blush>
How do you react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?
I usually react by going “Oh dang!” because I just got tongue-tied and messed up the incantation for one of my fire or frost spells.
Are there any blood relatives that you are particularly close with, besides the immediate ones? Cousins, uncles, grandfathers, aunts, etc. Are there any others that you practically consider a blood relative?
I’m pretty close with my cousins, Sumi and Tumi. They’re twins, too, by the way. I guess it runs in the family. Their mom – Shayis Steelfury – and my mom are sisters. They all work down in the Valley of Honor. Pretty much the only time I would come to Orgrimmar when I was little was when we would visit that side of the family. My mom mostly tried to keep in touch with her relatives. Father was pretty meh about it, though.
What does you desk/workspace look like? Are you neat or messy?
It’s not really messy, but I feel like I’m always losing things just the same. Like I’ll finish with something, and just put it down wherever I am, instead of things having a place where I’ll know to find them.
Are you superstitious?
Well, I mean, I talk to ancestral and elemental spirits, so I guess I’m kind of superstitious professionally.
What might your ideal romantic partner be?
Oh, I, um… Well, that would… You know what? I…yeah, I don’t really talk about that with…who are you, anyway? So that’s, um, that’s between me and my diary. Which I keep hidden! So don’t, like…you know… <blush>
What’s your favorite comfort food, favorite vice, favorite outfit, favorite hot drink, favorite time of year, and favorite holiday?
I love herbed mushroom salad. (They grow some really great mushrooms in Feralas.) Um, people have favorite vices? Why? Wouldn’t they rather be nice? Anyway. Um, my favorite outfit is probably my training uniform – it makes me feel like I’m on my way to being a real shaman! There’s this Pandaren drink called kafa that I really like, even if it makes me kinda hyper. Holiday…probably a toss-up between Hallow’s End and Winter Veil! Candy and presents!
Previous Profiles:
On the last night before the patch, trainees Giska, Korrina, Ruekie, and Kulkesh pay a final visit to their mentor. (Presumably, Gurtash was stuck taking the picture.)
Out of the frying pan, into the Firelands
* Mokvar pulled a sneaky bait-and-switch with Ji to keep Mylune from…detaining him at the Sanctuary of Malorne.
** Neeru Fireblade pointed Mokvar in the direction of the Council of the Black Harvest, and Ritssyn specifically, here. As the green fire veterans among you may recall, Ritssyn and Zinnin were dispatched to the Firelands by Kanrethad Ebonlocke.
* As Mokvar has detailed, the Nether Prism is a warlock relic which he had acquired years ago in Blackrock Spire; when its powers proved stronger than he could handle, he passed the prism off to the imp Vi’el, a collector or rare magic items, in Darkwhisper Gorge. When Mokvar and Deliana returned to Winterspring to try to recover the Prism, however, they found Vi’el had been killed and the Prism was nowhere to be found.
01101101 01101111 01101011 01110110 01100001 01110010 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100100 01100101 01101100 01101001 01100001 01101110 01100001
* Garrosh elegantly summarizes the salient points of Mokvar’s own account of his past, which he detained here and here. There’s also this breakdown of Mokvar’s ongoing saga, but at this point, is anybody really not caught up yet?
** Spazzle filled Garrosh in on what he knew, re: Mokvar, in this post and its aftermath.
* Surely everyone remembers the infamous binary punchcard from Gnomergan, right?
30 Days of Character Development #7: Mokvar
[Periodically, a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players. (See the first profile for more details.) Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about.]
Name: Mokvar
Occupation: Scribe; former advisor to the Warchief; former mercenary; currently between gigs, as it were.
Race: Orc
Class: Warlock (currently and formerly), shaman (formerly)
Age: 44
Group affiliations: Horde (former citizen, currently banished), Earthen Ring (former member), Veiled Blade (former member)
Known relatives: Drulla (mother, deceased), Vokmar (father, deceased), ex-wife (heretofore unnamed)
Earth Online notes: Founding member and officer of Garrosh’s guild <Warchief>; presumably demoted from officer status since falling out of good graces with Garrosh, though it’s currently unclear if he’s actually been demoted or gkicked. Main toon is Bartleby (class unknown); has at least one alt, LamontCranston (not a member of <Warchief> and unknown by most of the guild, possibly all but Spazzle).
First appearance: “Visiting Ashenvale” (first mention), “Underneath the bunker” (first transcript)
Key posts and plot points:
- Garrosh first mentioned Mokvar in the very early days of the blog, during an inspection trip to Ashenvale. After completing an aerial bombing run over Astralaan, the Warchief was most irate that Mokvar wasn’t able to adequately sketch him walking away from the resulting explosions; Garrosh ordered Mokvar back to Orgrimmar to train up inscription under pain of, well, pain. (Interestingly, the job of keeping visual records of some of Garrosh’s expolits would eventually fall to Gurtash in the form of his comics.)
- Mokvar would return a few weeks later in “Underneath the bunker” to record the first of many transcripts of the Warchief’s dealings. (Also of note is that this transcript marked the first appearance of Dontrag and Utvoch.) From that point on, Mokvar would frequently accompany the Warchief in his adventures, recording Garrosh’s discussions with such luminaries as Tirion Fordring (“Where did all the words go?”), Mylune (not once but twice), Garona and Johnny Awesome (“Awesome job, Mokvar”).
- Mokvar traveled back in time to old Hillsbrad with Garrosh, Liadrin, Faranell, and Utvoch in an attempt to trace the origin of a magic “anti-plague” that was devastating the Forsaken (The Anti-Plague of Southshore). While there, Faranell switched places with a past version of himself and inadvertently set off a series of events that would eventually cause massive disruptions to the timeline (Timequake). In the ensuing chaos, Mokvar was one of the only people to be aware of the changes that had occurred, and helped the Warchief reset history to its proper course. To this day, Mokvar remains one of the only people – along with Garrosh, Liadrin, and Faranell – who remembers the events that transpired in the other timeline. (Okay, yes, Utvoch remembers, too…but would you really bet your next paycheck on him understanding any of it?)
- Just before Garrosh left for Pandaria, Mokvar was attacked and killed under mysterious circumstances (“Death of the author”), though his death was made temporary by his ability to ankh as a shaman. This brush with death marked the beginning of the Mokvar saga that continues to this day; a detailed, post-by-post account can be found here, but here’s the semi-sorta-short version: In his mercenary days before coming to Orgrimmar, when he was a member of the Veiled Blade, Mokvar had acquired, then disposed of, a powerful warlock relic called the Nether Prism; now, years later, the Prism’s prior owner (the drakonid lord Valthalak) has sent spectral assassins after Mokvar in an effort to recover his prize. Mokvar reunited with old mercenary friend Deliana to try to recover the Prism, then launched into a run of suspicious, erratic behavior – traveling to Ironforge under diplomatic cover, then being charged with the murder of one of its citizens; turning for aid to Neeru Fireblade, then, even more damningly, Magatha Grimtotem; breaking out of Orgrimmar while under arrest, leading to his eventual banishment from the Horde.
After Mokvar disappeared from Orgrimmar, he remained off the grid for several months, save for elemental indications to fellow shaman Spazzle that he may have met his final demise. Ji Firepaw, however, wasn’t willing to give up hope for Mokvar’s survival (and rightly so – did anyone really think that I was not only going to kill off Mokvar, but do so off-screen? Really?), and continued investigating Mokvar’s whereabouts. Ji’s search eventually led him to Blackrock Spire, where Mokvar made his dramatic, fel-infused return in “The scouring of the Spire.”
- True story: I originally introduced Mokvar not even as a real character, but as a plot device to justify inclusion of the transcripts. I realized early on that I wanted to include dialogue in the blog, but I didn’t feel like it would fit stylistically to have Garrosh writing it out as it would appear in a novel – one thing I try to maintain (with ranging degrees of success) is the appearance that Garrosh really is writing everything in the blog, as a blog, rather than a short-story-but-we’ll-call-it-a-blog-even-though-we-know-it’s-really-not-wink-wink. Mokvar as a scribe provided an excuse to include that extra material. Another true story: When I was first choosing Garrosh’s scribe, I pretty much went into Grommash Hold and semi-randomly picked someone who looked like he didn’t have much else to do. Who knew?
- For the fashion/transmog-minded among you: Mokvar’s warlock attire is roughly based on the Tier 9 warlock set.
- Mokvar’s Earth Online character, Bartleby, is a reference to the title character in Herman Melville’s short story “Bartleby the Scrivener.” (Scrivener = scribe!) Mokvar likewise references the story on a few occasions when he repeats Bartleby’s signature line, “I would prefer not to.”
- For anyone who hasn’t pieced it together by this point: Mokvar’s close connection to Deliana is based on their parallel in-game roles. Pre-Cataclysm, Mokvar (in Orgrimmar) and Deliana (in Ironforge) were the questgivers who sent adventurers on the (very long and painful) quest chains to upgrade the old “Tier 0.5” dungeon sets. The two characters offered essentially the same quests, which provided the basis for much of the in-blog backstory about Lord Valthalak. (Valthalak’s spirit was the end boss for that quest chain, by the way, and for anyone who missed it during vanilla, fighting him at level was a NIGHTMARE.)
In his own words:
In there one event or happening you would like to erase from your past? Why?
My last job with the Veiled Blade, when we went into Blackrock Spire to collect Valthalak’s goodies. It turned out to be nothing but trouble, and cost most of us our lives – all of us, in fact, other than me and Deliana. (And strictly speaking, it cost me my life, too; it just didn’t stick. So, congratulations to Deliana for being the last one left standing. Was anyone running a pool?)
What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?
Tigule and Foror’s Lok’tar S’more-gar. Cerulean blue. The Lokvad’nod Broxigari. Any daisies I’m not pushing up.
Who do you trust?
After everything we’ve been through, I trust Deliana with my life. The same goes for Ji and Spazzle. I trust Thrall and Eitrigg implicitly, and I’ll probably always be grateful to Thrall for giving me a safe haven all those years ago. I trust Liadrin for her judgment, Saurfang for general badassery, and Garrosh…well, I trust Garrosh to be Garrosh.
How are you with technology? Super savvy, or way behind the times? Letters or email?
I’m no Spazzle, but I’m good enough with technology to get by. I’m not really what you would call tech literate in the broad sense, but I do okay with specific tasks on specific devices; once I learn how to do something, I’m usually fine, but then I don’t like to stray too far from what I know, even if something new and better comes along. I still prefer to write by hand, but I usually end up having to type things out – people are always complaining about my handwriting.
How do you react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?
Heat doesn’t bother me at all. I hardly even notice it. Cold, on the other hand… spirits, I hate the cold. You could not have paid me enough money to go to Northrend.
Are you an early morning bird or a night owl?
Neither, really. I have pretty strange sleep habits: I usually tend to sleep for 2-3 hours at a time, scattered around random times in the day. It’s a holdover from my mercenary days, when we would often have to be on the move on short notice; I developed the ability to sneak in what sleep I could when I could, and it’s stayed with me. So now you’re equally likely to catch me awake at some odd hour in the middle of the night, or asleep in the middle of the day. It’s the main reason why I don’t like surprise visitors. That and the recent habit that surprise visitors have been getting into of trying to kill me.
What’s your preferred means of travel?
On wolfback. I like feeling my feet on the ground…or at least my wolf’s feet, indirectly. If I have to fly, I’d rather take a zeppelin or gunship. I’ve never gotten completely comfortable on a wyvern (although I still prefer them to bats or dragonhawks or…well, I don’t know how people manage to keep their balance on those carpets). I’ll fly on one if I need to, and I have lots of times – it just makes me uneasy while I’m up there.
If you could time travel, where would you go?
Don’t even joke about that.
Are you superstitious?
I definitely believe that there’s something out there that’s either looking out for me, or has it in for me. I’m still not sure which. Check back with me again another time. Unless I’m dead, in which case we probably have our answer.
What might your ideal romantic partner be?
Someone calm, grounded. Stable. Not prone to emotional swings or extreme highs and lows. Someone who’s figured themselves out, gotten comfortable with themselves, grown out of the drama and the need for everything to be a thrill ride.
If your life were a genre, what would it be?
Pretty definitely something in the action/adventure area, or at least a suspense thriller. Be careful what you wish for, I suppose. Sometimes I think I should have listened to my mother and been a banker instead. When I was younger, I couldn’t wait to go out into the world and have adventures. Thirty years of adventures later, I think I’ve had more than enough excitement. I’d love to be bored. I’d love to settle down comfortably in a quiet corner of Orgrimmar once we get to the other side of all this, and age into some old man who everyone considers pretty dull and uninteresting, except for every so often when he rattles off another one of his crazy stories — which most of the kids probably won’t believe really happened anyway. I think I’ll enjoy that.
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