Tag Archives: tirion fordring
Monday mailbag
So I was finally able to get a decent internet connection going again, long enough to get my mail sorted out, and I figured since I have a decent bunch of letters from you peeps, and I haven’t offered any mailbag love for a while, I might as well do just that. Because you know me – your Warchief is nothing if not all about the love.
It’s my first weekend back in Silvermoon in I don’t know how long, and man, is the mood different around here these days. Whether you’re going to think that’s good news or bad news depends on how you interpret that.
Remember my first letter? The one where I was basically advocating high treason against the Regent-Lord? A lot of us used to be dissatisfied that he was doing a whole bunch of nothing. The impression around here, at least if you believe the spin from the Silvermoon Star-Tribune, is that the Regent-Lord’s approval numbers are way up since he started getting jiggy with it down in Pandaria. Yes, the Star-Tribune is calling what Lor’themar’s doing down there “decisive leadership” and “proactive management”. And the public seems to be buying it.
Either that, or they’re just glad that he’s somewhere else, and hoping he eats a Mogu hammer somewhere along the way. That’s the other way to look at it.
To be honest, I’m not sure which one I’m buying, yet. That’s something I’ll have to think about when I get back to Pandaria.
–A Concerned Citizen
Hey, ACC. You know, my first reaction here is that people probably ARE a little happier about Lori because he’s been away. Problem is, if that were true, you’d think that I would start finding him less annoying since he’s gone BACK to Silvermoon recently. But…nope. He high-tailed it out of Pandaria, then promptly made a big ol’ cluster fuck of that whole business with the sha box…and the less said about the sideshow going on in my Earth Online guild, the better. I suppose it’s still a LITTLE less irritating, but only because I don’t have to listen to him live and in person. At least until he comes strolling back down here again.
Also, not for nothing, but are you sure the reports in your little dorky newspaper are reliable? Who’s doing the writing? It’s amazing what a little propaganda can do for a ruler’s perception. Or so I’ve heard.
I’ve been following some of your interactions with Lord Theron and I was wondering if you limited your observations to him or if you think all Blood Elves are like that.
I’ve been in Pandaria just about since the beginning (but I can’t explain how Anduin got away–that was General Nazgrim’s job, not mine) and have tried to do my part for the Horde. Also: Pandaren don’t seem to have barbers. Anywhere. Not a one on this damn continent. You should give us credit for coming here anyways even with that sacrifice.
Respectfully,
–Vyrin Dawnstar, Shrine of Two Moons, Pandaria
P.S: If anyone told you about Anduin and the Temple of the Red Crane, I deny it all. Not me. Nope. Must’ve been someone else helping him. If that hasn’t been brought to your attention yet, please ignore this part.
Hmm… Well, Vyrin, I guess that depends on what you mean by “all blood elves are like that.” I mean, like what? Spindly and break-easy-ish? Because, well, sorry, but you guys kind of are. A little too preoccupied with the uber-luxurious hair? I refer you to your second paragraph. (By the by, I think the lack of barbers in Pandaria is because the pandas just shed. Can you imagine the cleanup crews you’d need in Silvermoon if the elves were like that?) That said, I DON’T think all blood elves are like ol’ Eyepatch in the absolutely-completely-utterly-useless department. I mean, Lady Liadrin has always struck me as pretty sharp and on top of things, and…um…okay, give me a minute here, I’m sure I can come up with a second example.
Hang on.
Um…
Okay, I’m going to have to get back to you on this, but seriously, I’ve got a…reasonably strong suspicion there’s at least one more I can name.
Also, though, what? Anduin at the Temple of the Red Crane? I’ve heard some scouting reports about that Red Crane place, actually. I may have to do some followup on that place…
That scar on your lip is so sexy. It makes you look very manly and tough. I’ve been wondering though how you got it. I’m sure there is some extraordinary tale of bravery and valor associated with it. I’d like to hear it.
Your devoted admirer,
–Wega
Hoo boy. Here we go again with Wega. So…yeah… For those of you who maybe haven’t noticed, Wega is talking about the scar I have on the right side of my upper lip:
So, okay, I know you’d probably figure I got the scar from some glorious battle, or one of the times I’ve squared off with Varian, or something else like that, but as it turns out, it was really more of a fluke injury. One night about a while back, I was trying to reorganize some of my junk in Grommash Hold, and I was stashing a couple boxes of stuff on a high shelf. While I was stretching up to reach the shelf, I lost my footing and fell over. Now, ordinarily that wouldn’t have been a big deal, except it just so happened that Mortimer was there with me, and was curled up on the floor sound asleep. Until I slipped and fell, and landed right on top of him, and he was so startled that before he knew what was going on, he snapped at me. And, yeah, got a nice chunk of my lip.
So, that was fun.
Gotta say, though, in a way it was kind of endearing afterward – once Mortimer knew what was going on, he DID act all sad and apologetic, and spent the next few days following me around trying to make nice. Once again, wyverns are better people than most people.
Now granted, having my lip cut open by wyvern fangs wasn’t exactly fun, but depending on how you look at it, I still don’t think I’ve gotten the worst of it from Mortimer. That honor probably goes to Malkorok. A few weeks ago, I was talking to Malkorok while I was getting ready to leave the Sanctum of Two Moons, then walked past him to the landing platform out front. Mortimer was following along behind me, and just as he was passing Malkorok, Mortimer stopped, lifted one leg up…and fucking peed on him. Oh man, you should have seen the look on Malky’s face. Especially when I pointed out, “Dude, considering what that usually signifies for a wyvern, you LITERALLY just got owned.”
Heh.
Hehehe.
<snort>
I want to thank you for helping us DPS kids and, you know, stuff.
I have a question though.
What happened to all your hair? I saw pictures of you and you had hair at one time, but now you don’t. Do you plan to grow your hair again? How would you wear it?
–Ruekie, Shaman-in-Training, Domination Point
What is this, fucking “Everybody Ask Garrosh to Explain His Personal Appearance Week”?
Oh, wait, hang on, it’s one of the kids.
What is this, blankety-blank “Everybody Ask Garrosh to Explain His Personal Appearance Week”? You kids – DO NOT read that first part from a couple lines up, YOU UNDERSTAND ME?
Anyway, yeah, Ruekie, I used to have a ponytail, right up through my time in Northrend. I wore my hair like that going all the way back to when I was a kid. To tell you the truth, it was pretty much the best of iffy options, as far as something I could do with my hair that would look maybe-sorta decent. See, while Grom had a really thick, full mane of hair, I guess I must have gotten mine from my mom’s side of the family, because my hair was always fairly coarse and stringy and just…patchy all over my scalp. Even as a kid, I pretty much had the beginnings of male pattern baldness going. And really, it shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise that I wouldn’t have that great of a head of hair – you know the old saying, grass doesn’t grow on a busy street.
Anyway, the ponytail was just a way to yank it all together that didn’t look flat-out terrible. Eventually, when I moved to Orgrimmar, I figured the hell with it and just cut it off. Which first of all, is much more low-maintenance. No more spending ten minutes every morning tugging it all together and trying to bind it up and then having the band be too loose so you start feeling it slipping out little by little all morning, or getting that one strand caught halfway through the pull-through and then feeling your roots getting pulled every time you look to one side, or…ugh, yeah, whatever. Way easier this way. Not to mention it’s way more practical in battle – it’s one less thing to get caught somewhere, and one less way for an enemy to grab you from behind.
Besides, much better to just embrace the baldness and go with it, rather than try to compensate with something that looks maybe-not-quite-terrible-if-you-squint-a-little. This way, it just announces to the world, “Yes, I’m bald. DEAL WITH IT.” Confidence is very sexy, don’t you think?
(Maybe I shouldn’t have put it that way. I can hear Wega scribbling out another letter as we speak…)
Cool little web form you have here. Sometimes those techie goblins do have some good ideas. (Not often, but sometimes.)
Anywho, my question for you this week is this: If you were to retire from warchiefin’ tomorrow, who would you choose as your successor and why?
Thanks!
–Kaija
You know, Kaija, this is actually a pretty decent question. For all the good things about the Horde, we don’t really have a clear line of succession. I mean, obviously if I were going to retire – presumably years down the road when I’m a gray-haired (FIGURE OF SPEECH, RUEKIE, DON’T GET EXCITED) old man basking in the triumphant glow of my many glorious victories – I would be in a position to sit back, think it over, and pick out an appropriate successor as Warchief. But what if something happens before I have the chance to? What if I get sick or injured? What if somebody decides it would be a bright idea to throw me a surprise party for my 70th birthday, and the ol’ ticker finally gives out? What if – I know this is a long shot, but still – what if I die in battle somehow before we even get to the wrinkly stage? What then? WHAT THEN, I ASK YOU?
So, it’s probably not a bad idea to put a little thought into who a good successor would be, and maybe establish that that person is next in line, just in case something happens.
And then, you know, make it very clear to that person that I’ve left the Kor’kron with special instructions to follow in the event that I should die under circumstances that are in any way even remotely fishy. Such instructions including, but not limited to, the agonizingly slow execution of the successor, their siblings, their friends, their relatives, their next-door neighbors, and anyone who’s ever been seen being polite to them in public.
You know. Just FYI.
Anyway, we might as well be systematic about this, so I’m going to review some of the likely candidates to follow me as Warchief – and just for shits and giggles, I’m going to group them into suitable categories and even give my best estimate at their odds of getting the nod. Place your bets now.
THE “OH SNAP DID I SAY THAT” DIVISION
VOL’JIN
1,000,000 to 1
Not really an option, because guess what, bitches? HE’S DEAD. HAHAHA <snort> that cracks me up more than it probably should.
THE “I GUESS I’M OBLIGATED TO AT LEAST MENTION THEM” DIVISION
JASTOR GALLYWIX
999,995 to 1
I mean…I guess he’s technically leader of the Bilgewater goblins, but… Well, like, does anybody even know where the fuck he IS half the time? I’m pretty sure the only times I’ve ever seen him were at the meeting of Horde leaders to prepare for the Theramore attack, and the celebration in Orgrimmar afterward. And, well, with the meeting, I pretty much sent notices to every goblin I could think of and then crossed my fingers hoping that word would reach him. And at the celebration…yeah, mountains of free food and booze, so of course he was going to show up for that. Honestly, I don’t get why the guy’s so low-profile. He had a fucking pleasure palace built in Azshara, and you can’t even find him THERE. Believe you me, if I ever commissioned the construction of Garrosh’s Pleasure Palace, you could call off the search parties, my ass would be there.
Hmm. Hang on a second, I need to jot something down on next month’s agenda planner.
LOR’THEMAR THERON
500,000 to 1
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA… Yeah, sure, this guy as Warchief. Do I really even need to elaborate here? Come on.
SYLVANAS WINDRUNNER
200,000 to 1
You know, she would actually be a pretty strong candidate – to her credit, she IS intelligent, charismatic, and competent – if she didn’t creep the living FUCK out of everyone. Not to mention make you worry that she might then replace that aforementioned living fuck with some kind of weird-ass UNDEAD fuck under her control.
BAINE BLOODHOOF
150,000 to 1
He’s a great warrior, he takes good care of his people, and you can practically see Cairne when you look in his eyes (not that that makes me at all awkward, no sir). He’s also freaking Vol’jin Lite what with the bitching and the moaning and the OMG Garrosh how could you. Because if there’s one thing you don’t want to stand for, it’s actually GOING TO WAR with the people you are ALLEGEDLY AT WAR WITH. Last thing the Horde needs is a fucking carebear in charge. And Thrall me no Thralls – Guy Smiley sat on his hands way too much too.
THE “I BET YOU DIDN’T THINK I KNEW ABOUT THIS MEME” DIVISION
A BASIC CAMPFIRE
5000 to 1
HAHA SEE I BET YOU ASSHOLES DIDN’T THINK I HAD A SENSE OF HUMOR ABOUT THAT SHIT.
THE “DIDN’T YOU RETIRE LIKE TWENTY YEARS AGO” DIVISION
DREK’THAR
500 to 1
Chieftain of the Frostwolf clan and friend to Durotan way back in the day. Lived through the corruption of the orcs, but refused to drink the blood of Mannoroth – granted it was largely because Durotan ordered the Frostwolves not to, but it still shows a certain level of principle AND loyalty to his clan all at the same time. Greatmother speaks about him just fondly enough to make me feel uncomfortable. The main down side, other than being blind and spending most of his time getting rolled around in a wheelchair by Captain Galvanger these days, is that since the Cataclysm…well…not to be mean, but let’s face it. Dude has just gone batshit senile. And that’s not even getting into the whole thing with him shitting himself. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. Old age is not kind.
EITRIGG
200 to 1
He’s been around for ages, advised both me and Thrall, has watched over Orgrimmar while I’ve been down here in Pandaria, and has always been staunchly devoted to the well-being of the Horde. If we had some kind of lifetime achievement award to dole out, I would sign him up for it tomorrow, even if he DID get a little grumbly with me over the Theramore thing. Who didn’t, right? Shows what those fuckers know. Anyway. The point is, though, as much as I like Eitrigg, he’s pretty much one of those guys who’s basically a permanent lieutenant. You know the ones. Year after year, they’re always second in command to one general after another, and somewhere along the line, after like the fourth guy gets promoted over them to take command, you realize there’s a reason for it. Perfectly good at his job, but he’s just never going to be suited for the big chair.
Also, if he were in charge, can you IMAGINE how much time freaking Tirion would probably be spending in Orgrimmar? Do you really want to subject people to THAT?
VAROK SAURFANG
100 to 1
Veteran of two wars. Served as Thrall’s right hand and as my executive officer in Northrend. He even served as acting Warchief for a little while, that time when I was off the grid. At the age of nine zillion, he’s still one of the biggest badasses around. He doesn’t sleep – he waits. Death once had a near-Saurfang experience. Mannoroth became more powerful by drinking HIS blood. There was going to be a street named after him in Orgrimmar, but the plan was canceled for safety reasons because nobody crosses Saurfang and lives. When warlocks make someone run away in fear, they pay a royalty to him. He’s considered an honorary shaman because he commands the element of surprise. I’m at least 50% sure some of these facts are made up. But you get the point.
So what’s the case against? You mean, other than at least two or three occasions that he’s threatened to kill me? You mean OTHER THAN THAT? Frankly, he’s a holdover from a Horde that’s a thing of the past – too old, too sentimental, too backward-thinking when we’re trying to move our people forward. Too willing to extend an olive branch to the Alliance when we need to be smashing them over the head with the whole fucking tree.
Mostly the threatening-to-kill-me thing, though. I don’t want to tempt fate. (Along similar lines, by the way, fate doesn’t want to tempt Saurfang.)
THE “I MIGHT ACTUALLY CONSIDER PICKING ONE OF YOU PEOPLE” DIVISION
WARLORD CROMUSH
50 to 1
This one is a dark horse candidate, no question. But the dude did yeoman’s work in Gilneas when he had the thankless job of keeping Sylvanas marginally under control, he’s run a tight ship in Hillsbrad at a time when the Horde finally secured a firm hold on the region, and he’s been our primary command officer in the Eastern Kingdoms going on a couple years now. The fact that he’s been able to work with the Forsaken with some measure of success is a major plus – yeah, they’re creepy and sketchy and just plain ol’ EEEESH, but they’re handy to have around. He probably needs some more grooming for higher things, but he’s worked his way into the conversation for future high-profile assignments.
MALKOROK
25 to 1
You know, Malkorok really has most of the bases covered: he’s smart, uncompromising, and relentlessly devoted to the Horde, with a sharp tactical mind and an indisputable ability to get shit done. He’s reshaped the Kor’kron, tightened up security, and demonstrated he’s one of the people you want fighting beside you on the battlefield.
Down side? Well, let me put it this way.
About a year ago, some goblins tried to start up a business making wyvern food. They did all kinds of tests to find a good formula for it as far as ingredients, they did focus groups to give it the most appealing packaging, they launched a huge advertising campaign for it and made sure it was easy to find at all the vendors…and absolutely nobody bought it. How come? Because for all the things they had going for them and all the effort they put into packaging it just right…wyverns just didn’t like it.
Draw your own conclusions.
GENERAL NAZGRIM
10 to 1
You all know this guy, and have probably worked with him on at least an occasion or two. And really, if being Warchief was purely a military matter, this would probably be the guy. He’s an excellent strategist and tactician, he adapts well on the fly, and since he came up through the ranks the old-fashioned way (I remember him serving under me in Northrend as a piddly-ass sergeant…and to put that in perspective, remember, freaking DONTRAG made sergeant), he appreciates what it’s like to be one of the grunts in the trenches and isn’t afraid to get in there and get his hands dirty by their side. Okay, there was that whole disaster where he shit the bed on security and let Anduin get away, but maybe he can delegate. But here’s the thing: being Warchief isn’t solely a military job. It’s also the political head of the Horde, which means that as Warchief, Nazgrim would essentially be steering the ship of state. And, well…we all know what happens when that guy gets near a ship.
WARLORD ZAELA
5 to 1
Leader of the Dragonmaw and a no-kidding-around badass warrior. She took command of the Dragonmaw clan after helping to overthrow the nutjob “Warchief” Mor’ghor – gotta admire someone who has the stones to take down a corrupted leader for the good of the clan. She was new to leadership at the time, and I’ll admit I was probably a little tough on her in my assessments early on, but she’s really grown into the role, and she’s been stepping up to work on some more projects for me the last few months. I’ll also admit I might be swayed by seeing how she went about her business in that other world. Still a little green, though…I mean, green in the “inexperienced” sense. Not green in the fel-magic-drinky-drinky-demon-blood-grr-rarr-proud-ancient-culture-down-the-drain-oops sense. Was that insensitive? Anyway, she could probably stand to have a few more years working closely under the Warchief before she’s in line for the job herself. But she’s definitely on the rise.
WARLORD BLOODHILT
2 to 1
Bet you didn’t see this one coming, did you? Just goes to show what an outside-the-box thinker your Warchief is. Hell, sometimes I’m so far outside the box that I don’t even know where the fuck the box is. What box, anyway? Fucking metaphors.
Anyhow, some of you might remember Bloodhilt from the southern Barrens, where he assumed command of our operations after former Warlord (and current zombie sous chef) Gar’dul managed to make a giant mess of things down there. Bloodhilt cleaned up Gar’dul’s fuck-ups, secured our position in the area, and made it possible for us to make our move on Theramore. Since then he’s made the trip with us to Pandaria, where he’s been commanding officer at Domination Point. Just a solid, stand-up officer who’s done nothing but impress from day one. Any way you cut it, you can get used to seeing his name cropping up, because he’s not going anywhere.
So, there’s your breakdown. On that note, I’m going to call it a day as far as answering the mail goes, but keep those letters coming and I’ll try to answer more of your questions as time allows. Since Spazzle’s form doohickey worked pretty well for this batch of e-mails, here it is again:
Guest Post: Furtive Father Winter
[Special guest post today, as part of Blog Azeroth’s Furtive Father Winter gift exchange. Today’s post was provided by Akabeko of Red Cow Rise — many thanks! I’ll be back with a final note from Mokvar after Akabeko’s gem. So now, without further ado…]
———
(On the Feast of Winter Veil, a grunt brings a brightly-wrapped box to the Warchief’s quarters. Inside are several letters, cards, and small gifts. A simple note is left on top of the whole festive affair.)
“Hey, Warchief. Do not open until Winter Veil! I rounded up all the gifts that arrived for you and put them together for easy transport on your trip. Happy Holidays. –Mokvar.”
On the back of the note, a card for one-month’s worth of Earth Online game time has been attached, with a note saying, “For when you find a stable wifi connection in Pandaria!”
The first card is printed on very thick, expensive paper and depicts the ruins of Lordaeron blanketed in snow. Somehow, this makes them look even bleaker and more terrifying, rather than peaceful. Inside, the card reads, “A very merry Feast of Winter Veil to my favorite Warchief. I wish you success in your siege of Pandaria and a Happy New Year.” It’s signed with an elaborate, flowing, nearly illegible “Sylvanas Windrunner.” The small package is wrapped in black paper and contains a miniature model of a plague thrower.
The next card is written in strong letters. The outside shows Greatfather Winter astride a comically large horse. Inside, it is in Common rather than Orcish. “Warchief Hellscream, I wish you an illustrious Winter Veil and a bright New Year. May fortune favor you in whichever endeavors you choose to undertake. May you be showered with the brightest of blessings and-“ (here, the handwriting appears to have been cut off, and finishes reluctantly) “-happy holidays from Tirion Fordring.” Below this, a different hand has written “and Eitrigg.”
Next is a postcard. One side has a standard greeting: “Happy Holidays!” in gold script. The back says, “…from Anger Management!” It has been signed by those who have attended sessions with the Warchief. Mylune has drawn tiny pawprints around her name.
On the next envelope, Mokvar has added a sticky note that says, “There wasn’t a return address on this one, so I’m not sure who it’s from! Maybe you’ll figure it out from the handwriting?” Inside is a card depicting the Silvermoon coat of arms. The note simply reads, “Merry Feast of Winter Veil from LOR’THEMAR THERON, REGENT LORD OF QUEL’THALAS.” There is also a small parchment with a sketch of his noble visage, just in case.
Below this is a handmade card from Garona. In fairly passable calligraphy, she has written “Happy Holidays, honorable Warchief.” There are faint smudges where the words “Let’s have dinner” have been erased. There is also a package wrapped in shiny red paper which contains a pair of soft wool fingerless gloves. Who knew Garona was so good with crafts?
The next card is smudged and crinkled. An unsteady hand has written “Merry Happy Winter Veil.” Below this are two messy signatures that might say “Dontrag” and “Utvoch.” It may have been written in crayon.
The final card bears the Alliance crest. The inside reads,
“Happy Holidays
From a superior king
Oh – FUCK YOU GARROSH”
———
Postscript from Mokvar:
I didn’t mention any of this when I originally delivered it to Garrosh a few days ago, just becuase…well…after he saw that last one, it seemed like a good idea to wait a little while till after he’d left town before anyone brought it up again. When I was assembling the package, I remember giving Ben-Lin Cloudstider, the anger management counselor, a peek at the card from Varian there…and her replying, “I see. I will clear my calendar for the next few weeks, then.”
Anger management
The other day I mentioned there being some meeting that Orphan Matron Battlewail wanted me to attend if I were serious about getting Gurtash. She had me check in with Social Services, which is being run by some goblins these days. Don’t ask me how that happened. But they filled in a little more of the story. They’ve got one of Ji Firepaw’s panda friends holding a kind of seminar on dealing with anger, and they’ve opened it up to anybody who wants to attend. The only catch – well, other than the fact that this whole fucking waste of time is one huge catch in itself since WTF why do these fuckers keep acting like I’ve got some kind of fucking problem with my goddamn temper or some shit – is that they want all the attendees to have someone come with them, sort of a sponsor. My first thought was to bring Malkorok, seeing as he’s technically my bodyguard and should be going places with me anyway, but then I got to thinking that this gig might not be the kind of thing that…well…let’s just say the purposes of the session might not be facilitated by having Malkorok in the room.
Plus, really, why do I need a bodyguard again? Isn’t that kind of like getting a watch dog to guard your giant rabid wolverine?
So, bottom line, I got Mokvar to come with me. Which also had the added benefit of…
Garrosh and Mokvar enter a room in which several chairs have been arranged in a circle. At the far end of the room, a middle-aged pandaren woman is talking with Eitrigg.
GARROSH: So, um, we’re here for the meeting? Not sure we’ve got the right place.
The pandaren woman, all smiles, walks over to greet them.
PANDAREN: Oh, no, you are in the right place, Warchief. It is good to see you again.
GARROSH: Yeah, you too. We’ve met?
PANDAREN: <laughs softly> Yes, a few weeks back, but I will understand if you do not remember me. You were meeting quite a few of us from the Wandering Isle that day.
GARROSH: Ah. Yeah. And to be honest, no offense, most of you pandas still sort of blend together for me.
PANDAREN: Are you saying my people all look alike to you?
GARROSH: Actually not so much all look alike as there are like six variations I can recognize.
MOKVAR: To be fair, I’m not sure we orcs are much better.
GARROSH: True enough. And the less said about the trolls the better.
MOKVAR: Well, Vol’jin stands out some.
GARROSH: Well yeah. I was going to ask the other day, actually – did he have some work done? He looks different.
MOKVAR: I was wondering that too! So I’m not the only one that noticed?
GARROSH: Dude, he sprouted an extra toe on the backs of his feet.
MOKVAR: Seriously? That’s freaky as hell.
GARROSH: I know, right? <looks back to the pandaren woman> Anyway…um…we can probably discuss this another time.
The woman smiles bemusedly.
PANDAREN: In any case, Warchief, it is good to meet you more properly now. <extends her paw> I am Ben-Lin Cloudstrider. I have been a student of meditation among our people for many years. I look forward to sharing some of these techniques with you today.
GARROSH: Yeah. Great. So listen, Ben, how long you figure this is going to take?
BEN-LIN: The session shall take as long as it takes.
GARROSH: Ah. One of those. Terrific.
MOKVAR: So, Eitrigg, what are you doing here?
GARROSH: Yeah, Eitrigg, you never struck me as having a temper.
EITRIGG: I don’t really. I’m not here for me; I’m sponsoring a friend. He just hasn’t gotten here yet.
GARROSH: Ah, okay. Wait…hold on…a “friend”? Please don’t tell me…
Tirion Fordring enters.
TIRION: Ah, greetings, Warchief! A pleasure as always to see you once again. And doubly so, of course, for you, Eitrigg, my dear friend of many years. Far too many days have passed since last we enjoyed each other’s company…
GARROSH: <rubbing his forehead> Dude, you just saw him a few weeks ago. I know. I was there.
TIRION: Perhaps! Perhaps, good Warchief! And perhaps indeed the calendar might insist that the interval has been short – but the spirit, my friend, the spirit tells me the time has been long! For surely, good Garrosh, you know of those times when the moments feel far longer than the clock might otherwise claim.
GARROSH: <still rubbing his forehead> All too well, Tirion…
MOKVAR: Eitrigg, I’m still not sure I understand. Tirion never struck me as very temperamental either.
Eitrigg, standing behind Tirion, makes a drinking motion with his hand.
Ah. Got it.
BEN-LIN: It appears more of our attendees are arriving. I should introduce myself, if you will pardon me a moment.
Ben-Lin steps toward the door, where Lor’themar Theron enters, accompanied by Liadrin. While Ben-Lin talks to them, Faranell enters and walks over to Garrosh and Mokvar.
GARROSH: Hey, Doc.
FARANELL: Hey.
MOKVAR: You’re here for the meeting too, Edwin?
FARANELL: Mmhmm. As soon as I heard about this, I cleared my schedule for this afternoon.
MOKVAR: I didn’t know you had anger issues.
FARANELL: I don’t.
Faranell sits down and takes out a large bag of popcorn.
Lor’themar and Liadrin leave Ben-Lin and approach Garrosh et al. Ben-Lin circles around and talks with Tirion and Eitrigg in the background.
MOKVAR: Hey Liadrin.
LIADRIN: Hello, Mokvar. Edwin. Warchief.
GARROSH: Hey, Liadrin. Who’s your friend? Is he sponsoring you or something?
LOR’THEMAR: You see? YOU SEE? This is EXACTLY what I was talking about! Every time! EVERY SINGLE TIME! No matter HOW many damn times I meet them, the NEXT time it’s always “Oh, so who’s this guy?”
LIADRIN: Now now, try to calm down, sir…
GARROSH: Okay, standing corrected on who’s sponsoring who here.
LIADRIN: This has been a long time coming, frankly.
GARROSH: Yeah, fine, but seriously, who IS he?
LOR’THEMAR: <shaking Garrosh violently> I’M LOR’THEMAR THERON, YOU PEA-BRAINED, MOUTH-BREATHING OAF! RULER OF SILVERMOON! LEADER OF THE BLOOD ELVES! I BUILT YOU A DAMN MANA BOMB TO COMMIT WAR CRIMES WITH, YOU IGNORANT VULGARIAN!
GARROSH: <shoving Lor’themar back> YOU’RE the vulgarian, you fuck!
FARANELL: <munching on popcorn> So much better than doing culture samples with Zinge.
LOR’THEMAR: How DIFFICULT is it to remember WHO SOMEONE IS after you MEET THEM FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME?!
GARROSH: Apparently VERY, when the someone in question isn’t frigging IMPORTANT enough to be REMEMBERED, Ponytail!
MOKVAR: He blew up about this on our game the other day, actually.
LIADRIN: I heard.
MOKVAR: Has he been at it all this time?
LIADRIN: More or less. This is something he’s been bottling up for a while, really.
Ben-Lin returns to the group, with Tirion and Eitrigg close behind.
BEN-LIN: If we might all find our seats. The last few should arrive shortly.
Everyone settles into the chairs.
Good afternoon, all of you, and thank you for coming today. I am Ben-Lin Cloudstrider of the Huojin Pandaren, and I will be conducting today’s session. My people chose to join the Horde in large part because of our shared belief in confronting challenges directly, and it is in that spirit that I would like to commend each of you for coming here today. By choosing to attend, you have demonstrated your recognition of an enemy of sorts within yourselves, and your resolve to face and defeat that enemy.
GARROSH: Pfft, I don’t know about these people, but I got railroaded by the orphan matron. Screw this personal-growth hippie bullshit.
LOR’THEMAR: Same here. <nods head toward Liadrin> This one twisted my arm.
GARROSH: Personally I think the whole thing is a load of crap.
MOKVAR: Would it really kill you to just bite your tongue and humor people this one time?
LIADRIN: <sighs> I wonder what it would be like if some of our leaders were actually adults…
BEN-LIN: Ah. I am sensing resistance from some of you. This is unfortunate. I hope you will come to see the merit of our activities as we go along. Let us begin by each introducing ourselves and telling the group why we are here.
She turns to Faranell.
Let us begin with you. Would you like to introduce yourself to the group, my friend?
FARANELL: <tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth> It would make my life complete.
BEN-LIN: <unfazed> Delightful. Please go on.
FARANELL: Yeah, fine. Hey. I’m Edwin. Most of you already know that. All of you, actually, so good use of time here. Don’t mind me, I’m just here for the LOL’s.
BEN-LIN: <blinks> Ah. I see.
She turns hesitantly and looks to Tirion.
And you, sir?
TIRION: Thank you, Lady Cloudstrider, many thanks indeed, both for your gracious greeting and for your generosity in offering up your valuable time – time very much in demand, I have no doubt, among your people – in arranging this gathering for the benefit of all here. And a great honor, and, indeed, blessing it is to find myself today amid this honored company, for as I look about the room I find my gaze met by the faces of many of the most esteemed of our respective peoples…
GARROSH: Oh man. He’s ON today…
TIRION: And so, in keeping with your request, noble Lady Cloudstrider, allow me to introduce myself. I am Tirion Fordring, Highlord of the Argent Crusade, Knight of the Silver Hand, master of Mardenholde Keep, bearer of the secred Ashbringer—
GARROSH: Murderer of Wills to Live…
TIRION: —and I find myself here today among you at the recommendation of my dear friend, the noble and sage orc Eitrigg, who suggested this gathering might prove valuable to me, both for my personal growth and likewise in allaying the oft-expressed concerns of some number of my Argent colleagues, such as the hallowed Confessor Palteress and my personal aide, the noble Miss Daria L’Rayne…
The door to the room opens, and Hamuul Runetotem leans in.
HAMUUL: Excuse me, is this the anger management seminar?
BEN-LIN: Indeed it is, my friend.
HAMUUUL: Ah, good. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.
GARROSH: Yes, you are, and thank goodness.
BEN-LIN: Please come in.
Hamuul steps into the room, holding the door open, and waves outside.
HAMUUL: Come on in, it’s the right place.
A nervous-looking Mylune enters.
BEN-LIN: <glancing down at a clipboard> Ah, you must be the two from Mount Hyjal.
HAMUUL: Yes. I’m Hamuul Runetotem, and this is my…colleague Mylune.
GARROSH: Oh man. Hide your kittens…
MYLUNE: <perks up> There are kittens?
GARROSH: Oh yeah, loads of them in the Cleft of Kittens.
MYLUNE: Ooh! Ooh! There’s a Cleft of Kittens? Where’s that?
GARROSH: Right at the southern end of the Valley of Ridiculous Hallucinations – it’s fucking ORGRIMMAR. What the hell do you think this is?
MYLUNE: <deflated> Oh. I thought there might be kittens…
HAMUUL: Perhaps just as well, given your recent…episode.
MYLUNE: <slumps her head and closes her eyes> I don’t know what you’re talking about.
HAMUUL: Mylune, we’ve already talked about your trying to block these things out.
MYLUNE: No no, I’m not blocking it out! Blocking what out? See? Happy face! Happy face! Oh, everything’s so wonderful and magical and whee! And…and…
She looks around quickly and grabs up a small scorpion that’s skittering along the ground.
And ooh, hello Mr. Scorpid, aren’t you a tough little prickly darling! <hugs the scorpion to her bosom> Auntie Luney sure is happy to see you! Yes she is! Yes she—oww! OWW! Dammit, that stings like HELL, you stupid pinchy ASSHOLE!
Mylune throws the scorpion viciously against the wall.
It wasn’t even that cute!
GARROSH: So… I take it that time in Mulgore wasn’t an isolated incident…?
HAMUUL: Not as such.
MYLUNE: Oh…oh no, no, no… I did it again! <sobbing> Why do I keep doing that? <putting her hands over her face as the sobbing continues>
HAMUUL: There there…
BEN-LIN: It is all right. You are among friends now.
GARROSH: Well let’s not get carried away.
MYLUNE: <rubbing one hand on her chest> That still kind of stings a little, actually…
BEN-LIN: We are here to help you. Have you had other moments like this recently?
MYLUNE: I…well…I was in Winterspring a few days ago…and there were these bunnies…and…and…
GARROSH: Not so much with the bunnies anymore, I’m guessing.
MYLUNE: I couldn’t help it! I just wanted to pet them, and… <rubs her chest again> Okay, you know what? I think that scorpion might have been venomous.
Hamuul sighs and starts casting healing spells on Mylune.
HAMUUL: Seriously? You have venomous scorpions just wandering around?
GARROSH: Hey, I don’t usually figure people are going to go around rubbing them on their boobs.
MOKVAR: Did you really have to give me that mental image?
GARROSH: I mean we usually don’t have people around here showing that level of stupid. And that’s even figuring how much time Dontrag and Utvoch spend here.
LOR’THEMAR: Who?
GARROSH: You’re better off not knowing.
LIADRIN: Really, sir.
BEN-LIN: Perhaps we should move on. <turns to Lor’themar> Let us turn to you now. You are…?
LOR’THEMAR: Ugh. See? SEE? THIS is EXACTLY what I’m talking about! I introduced myself to you not TEN MINUTES AGO! But does anyone remember something like that? NO! OF COURSE NOT!
LIADRIN: Sir, I think she was just asking you to—
LOR’THEMAR: Don’t defend her, Liadrin! People do this every damn day, and there’s always some excuse for them! Either that, or it’s just “Oh, okay. Lor’themar? Whatever.” YES, whatever. It’s LOR’THEMAR! LOR’THEMAR FUCKING THERON, Regent-Lord of Quel’Thalas! That’s who I am! Lor’themar! Do you hear me? All of you? LOR’THE-FUCKING-MAR! One of the only racial leaders on either side who hasn’t managed to make a complete cluster fuck of something yet, but does anyone remember? NO! NO THEY DON’T!
BEN-LIN: Well then. I was going to ask you why you are here, but I think you have already answered that. So let us move on. <turns to Garrosh> And you, sir?
GARROSH: Huh? Oh, yeah. <waves half-heartedly> So yeah, Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde. Son of Grom, slayer of Alliance, writer of EPIC VERSE, eater of lemon squares, yadda yadda.
HAMUUL: Wait, he writes poetry?
MOKVAR: He’s actually surprisingly good at it.
BEN-LIN: And why have you come here today, my friend?
GARROSH: Humoring the orphan matron, pretty much. Didn’t we already cover this? She basically said I needed to attend this thing before she would sign off on this orphan I was looking into maybe adopting.
LIADRIN: Wait, what?
EITRIGG: Adopting?
HAMUUL: Oh spirits help us…
GARROSH: WHY does everybody fucking react like that every time I mention this? I talked about it on my blog, too, and all the commenters were like “Holy crap no!”
HAMUUL: Wait, he blogs, too?
FARANELL: <munching> I so should have brought some ale for this.
Tirion passes Faranell a flask.
Oh, hey, thanks.
EITRIGG: I thought we’d agreed you were going to hold off on the… <makes a drinking motion with his hand> …while we were here for the meeting.
TIRION: Surely, friend Eitrigg, you would not deny me a simple bracing beverage before an undertaking that calls upon my resolve.
EITRIGG: Now we both know the “liquid courage” excuse doesn’t hold here, Tirion.
GARROSH: So hold up, you mean Highlord Paragraph here likes to retreat into the bottle, and goes all angry drunk and shit?
EITRIGG: And sometimes ends up burning small animals as a result…
MYLUNE: He WHAT?!
TIRION: My fine and noble friend, I would remind you that the episode with the penguins was, in broad, strokes, an isolated incident, and—
MYLUNE: Penguins?!
BEN-LIN: Now you see, here we may have a fine instructive moment. While we may all have our moments of anger, it is when we allow that anger to manifest in actions that we risk unleashing the worst upon the loved ones around us…
MYLUNE: <fidgeting nervously and looking to Hamuul> Pen…penguins! What did he do to the penguins…?!
EITRIGG: Suffice to say it involved a cane.
BEN-LIN: And so, when you experience these moments, Tirion, you must remember to use your words.
GARROSH: Wait, seriously?
TIRION: Sage counsel indeed, good Lady Cloudstrider, and perhaps you are right, and I have been far too reticent…
GARROSH: Fucking hell, do you realize what you’re DOING, lady?
MYLUNE: He…he…he attacked the poor penguins with a cane?
EITRIGG: Far better than the kittens got…
TIRION: My dear Eitrigg, you know perfectly well that I take little pride in the unfortunate incident involving the, shall we say, premature feline incendiaries, and—
MYLUNE: Incendi— you burned kittens?!
GARROSH: Yeah, bet you’re glad we don’t have any here now, aren’t you? Not safe to have them around Captain Shortfuse Longwind here.
MYLUNE: <trembling with eyes growing large and dewy> Hamuul, did you hear that? He…he…the kittens…he…
Hamuul pulls a teddy bear out of his pack and dangles it in front of Mylune, who immediately snatches it up.
Oh oh oh what a cute cuddly fuzzy huggy teddy bear squee!
LOR’THEMAR: Wow she’s unstable…
GARROSH: Look in a mirror lately, blondie? Who are you to judge?
LOR’THEMAR: <jumping up and knocking his chair over> Who am I? WHO AM I? LOR’THEMAR THERON, that’s who! LOR’THE-FUCKING-MAR THERON!
LIADRIN: Sir, really, you should try to—
LOR’THEMAR: You stay out of this, Liadrin! I’ve HAD IT with this walking jaw with a gym card acting like he doesn’t fucking KNOW me!
GARROSH: I know you’ll snap in half nice and easy if you don’t figure out a way to ZIP it right quick, Hair-Care!
MYLUNE: <swaying from side to side while hugging the tebby bear> Oh don’t listen to them, Mr. Huggles, it’s okay, it’s okay! You just be all sweet and snuggly and don’t worry about the mean people!
LOR’THEMAR: Why don’t you MAKE me zip it! Or do you need damn BOMB to drop on me for that?!
GARROSH: I’ll SHOW you a fucking BOMB, Ponytail!
Garrosh lunges at Lor’themar and flings him violently against the wall. Lor’themar pulls himself up and tries to rush back at Garrosh, only to have Garrosh grab him and put him in a headlock. Mokvar and Liadrin pull at Garrosh’s arm to try to loosen his grip.
MOKVAR: Really, boss, not helping your own cause here…
GARROSH: Hope you weren’t too fond of that frigging OXYGEN, Lor’the-Whatever-the-Fuck-Your-Name-Is!
LOR’THEMAR: <wrenching himself out of Garrosh’s hold and swinging at him wildly> LOR’THEMAR! MY NAME IS LOR’THEMAR! SAY IT! SAY IT! SAY MY NAME, BITCH!
Mylune is still rocking back and forth, holding the teddy bear while trembling.
MYLUNE: Now now don’t you let them upset you, Mr. Huggles… <absently rips off one of the teddy bear’s ears> It’s okay…it’s all okay… They’re not mad at you, no no, they’re not… <rips off the bear’s other ear, sobbing> It’s all going to be okay someday, I promise, Huggles, Auntie Luney promises…!
FARANELL: <mouth half-full of popcorn> I love this meeting so much I want to marry it and have a family of little caucuses.
LOR’THEMAR: I’m SICK AND TIRED of being IGNORED by this damn GORILLA!
Mokvar and Liadrin try with mixed success to pull the two away from each other.
GARROSH: Don’t worry, metro, you’ll be getting PLENTY of attention while I’m smearing you all over the floor!
LOR’THEMAR: Stop holding him back! I’m not scared of him! I can take him! Unless maybe he’s POISONED his DAMN AXE again!
GARROSH: OH you will DIE EXTRA SLOW for—
Tirion jumps Garrosh and Lor’themar and pushes them away from each other. He looks back and forth sternly.
TIRION: Gentlemen, please! Surely no one can benefit from our turning on each other in such a way. Now then… <looks back and forth between Garrosh and Lor’themar again> Let’s have a drink. And calm down.
EITRIGG: <sighs> Tirion…
BEN-LIN: It occurs to me that perhaps our goals would be better served by a few one-on-one sessions before we attempt to discuss our issues in a group…
Mylune suddenly grabs Ben-Lin from behind and hugs her back against herself.
MYLUNE: Ohhhh has anyone ever told you you’re like a big giant warm fuzzy snuggly teddy bear yourself, Miss Cloudy-bear?
BEN-LIN: <looking around somewhat panicked, but clearly trying to maintain her composure> So…with that in mind…let us adjourn for the day. I will be in touch with each of you to arrange individual meetings. We…we have much work to do…
LIADRIN: Come on, sir, let’s just go back to Silvermoon…
Liadrin drags Lor’themar out of the room. The others begin to make their way out as well, except for Mylune, who continues hugging Ben-Lin.
MYLUNE: So huggly and cuddly and so so adorable! I could just squeeze you all day, little bear!
Faranell gets up and walks over to Ben-Lin and Mylune on his way toward the door.
FARANELL: So, I’m going to give you my contact info… Please, please tell me if there are any more of these meetings. I will buy a ticket if I need to.
This has got to be some kind of a hazing thing. Or Battlewail is doing some kind of weird trial to test my resolve, to see just how serious I am about the Gurtash thing.
Gotta tell you, though, if I have to go hang out with that crew again, I’m not sure I like even that kid enough…
More soon.
[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]
Here come the pandas
So that was interesting.
Right after I finished yesterday’s post, Ji Firepaw arrived in Orgrimmar with a group of pandaren from the Wandering Isle, looking to sign on with the Horde. And, first impressions…well, I’ll be honest. First impressions weren’t so impressive. I mean, I realize I should know better than to jump to conclusions based on appearances, but…well…the words “roly poly” come to mind. And granted, I’ve heard from multiple sources that these pandaren love them some beer, to the point that I guess Chen Stormstout left kegs lying around all over the Barrens…more power to ’em…but dude, I was not expecting every last one of them to have a beer belly.
You know, on Earth Online they actually have an animal that’s supposed to be inspired by these pandaren. They don’t even try to hide it – they went ahead and called them “pandas,” for fuck’s sake. They’re these basically pudgy bears that just kind of lumber around pudgily, being lazy and nonthreatening most of the time. Unless – you guessed it – you try fucking with their food. I guess I’d just assumed that the EO devs were taking some liberties designing these panda animals, but, hey, shows what I know. The genuine articles? Same deal. Hell, I think I’m just going to take to calling them “pandas.” It’s not like “pandaren” exactly rolls off the tongue.
Anyway, when Ji and his people showed up, I was a little taken aback by all this, and I started rambling on with my “Welcome to the Horde” speech. Maybe I laid on the “bad cop” act a little heavy, about having to earn their keep and prove their usefulness like the other members of the Horde did (granted, the best I could come up with for the blood elves on the spot was “they can hold a sword, I guess”), but hey, I was a little rattled and busy thinking “Holy crap, is there no translation for ‘No more, thanks, I’m full’ in fucking Pandaren?”
So I had the pandas head up to the Ring of Valor so I could put their skills to the test. Matter of fact, I took a page out of Tirion’s book from that whole Argent Colisseum thing he set up in Northrend. You remember when he rounded up three monsters from up there (okay, four – he had not one, but TWO jormungar worms!) and had people fight them? Well, I had the same deal waiting for the pandas, only I did Tirion one better: instead of rolling out the monsters one at a time, I set all of them loose at once and had the pandas go at it.
Side note, by the way – before I got the monster-fighting party going, I did a little more off-the-cuff speechifying at Ji and the other pandas, about presenting them with a gift, which turned out to be the chance to prove their combat skills to me, and how I’d heard about the martial arts prowess of the pandas, and really ran kind of long with it all, and all of a sudden it hit me that HOLY CRAP I’m getting like Tirion THAT way too, so I shut the fuck right up at that point and let out the monsters. Because the fuck, dude, is it just something about supervising gladiatorial combat that gives people diarrhea of the mouth?
Anyway, though, funny thing happened once Ji and his people got the monsters sprung on them: those pandas fucking owned FACE. I’m not even kidding. Those beasties got freaking WRECKED. So I stand corrected – some of the recruits could stand some more practice and experience, for sure, but overall you pandas really are ready to go. And you know, gotta say, I look at you teddy-bear-looking motherfuckers and I wouldn’t really expect you to be badass, but I’ve got to hand it to you pandas, you get the fucking job done. Daps, pandas.
Only down side? Now I’m down three perfectly good monsters. I was originally going to pit them against Alliance prisoners, and kick back at the Ring of Valor to watch the prisoners fight for their lives for entertainment. Maybe tell them they’d win their freedom if they survivied, only find some ironic way to phrase it so if they did win I could just turn around and have them dropped into boiling oil or some shit. Oh well. I guess we’ll just have to get some new monsters. Not a rush, since we at least have until I get the rest of the parts for the popcorn machine.
West Azeroth Story
Barnes walks onstage and a spotlight appears over him.
BARNES: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this evening’s presentation! Tonight we explore a tale of forbidden love! But beware, for not all love stories end happily. As you may find out, sometimes love pricks like a thorn. But don’t take it from me. See for yourself what tragedy lies ahead when the paths of star-crossed lovers meet. And now: On with the show!
Barnes walks offstage. The curtain rises, revealing a farm house with a Horde banner flying behind it. In the foreground, Garrosh enters from stage right, with Mokvar, Garona, Dontrag, Utvoch, Liadrin, and Faranell in formation behind him. As they walk by the farm, they begin snapping their fingers rhythmically in unison. They continue walking until they disappear from view, stage left.
The lights dim for a moment, then come back on, showing that the farm house has been replaced by a blacksmith’s building. Again, a Horde banner flies in the background. Garrosh et al enter stage left, still walking in formation and snapping their fingers in unison. Again they walk across the stage and exit, stage right.
Blackout. This time, the blacksmith building has been replaced by a stable. Garrosh et al enter stage right and walk past the stable, snapping their fingers – then, stopping their snapping, they turn and look back at the Alliance flag flying nearby.
From stage left, Varian Wrynn enters with a group of Alliance – including Jaina Proudmoore, Falstad Wildhammer, and Shandris Feathermoon. The Horde group turns to see them, and the two sides stare each other down for a moment.
As hectic music fills the air, the two groups launch into combat and fight back and forth acrobatically as if dancing to the music.
GARROSH: For the Horde!
ALL HORDE: For the Horde!
VARIAN: For the Alliance!
ALL ALLIANCE: Alliance!
GARROSH: Oh, fuck you, Varian!
VARIAN: This time there’ll be no escape for you, Hellscream!
The two sides continue fighting back and forth in front of the stables.
GARROSH: For fuck’s sake, you idiots, stop fighting in the middle and cap the damn flag!
VARIAN: There’re all here! The mine has to be open, some of you get over there!
LIADRIN: Someone come with me to cover the blacksmith before they get there!
Most of the combatants rush off in different directions, until Garrosh and Faranell find themselves alone with Varian, Jaina, Shandris, and several anonymous Alliance soldiers.
GARROSH: Okay, now to—
FARANELL: Not liking the odds here, boss – lumber mill coming up!
Faranell grabs Garrosh and teleports them both away just as Varian starts to rush at them. Varian looks around, then points at a red-shirted dwarf.
VARIAN: You, fact checker! Watch the stables while we circle around. Let’s go!
Varian and the others rush off, leaving the Wildhammer Fact Checker standing alone by the flag. After a moment, the dwarf lurches forward, stunned, as Garona unstealths behind him and starts stabbing him wildly with two daggers until he collapses to the ground.
GARONA: <turning to the flag> Lok’tar!
Blackout. At the blacksmith, Liadrin and Mokvar fight Shandris and an Alliance soldier, pushing them back until they fight their way offstage to the right.
Blackout. The landscape changes to that of the Isle of Conquest. From stage right, Garrosh, Liadrin, and Dontrag enter, followed by Flastad driving a glaive, with Jaina casting fireballs in support. The Alliance drive the Horde back until they exit to the left.
Blackout. This time the surrounding scenery is that of Wintergrasp. Varian and Jaina enter from stage left, chased by a demonlisher manned by Garrosh, Garona, and Utvoch, plus a catapult driven by Faranell. The Horde continues chasing the Alliance until they all exit, stage right.
Blackout. The scene changes to the Ring of Champions at the Argent Tournament grounds. From opposite sides of the stage, the Horde and Alliance groups rush in and begin fighting across the ring, again moving in rhythm with the music.
After a few minutes of combat, Tirion Fordring enters, runs to the middle of the fray, and emits a burst of light from the Ashbringer that knocks back all the combatants. Tirion looks back and forth at the two groups disapprovingly; they return to their feet and look back at him uneasily.
GARROSH: Oh. Hey.
VARIAN: Greetings, Highlord.
TIRION: If I might have a word, gentlemen.
GARROSH and VARIAN: Oh no.
TIRION: Much hope has been invested in an eventual peace between both your peoples, not least of all by the great archmage Rhonin, in his noble planning of the peace summit in Dalaran that draws near. Indeed, my own friendship with your own kinsman Eitrigg, Warchief Hellscream, stands, if I might dare flatter myself, in illustration of the fellowship that might be wrought between two divergent cultures, and, indeed, worlds—
VARIAN: Look, Tirion—
GARROSH: Seriously, you don’t have to—
TIRION: —one that you both may well benefit to heed. For surely, two such mighty and wise leaders as yourselves cannot but recognize the merit in looking beyond these petty, mutually destructive squabbles—
GARROSH: Dude, really, couldn’t you just let us slowly hack each other to death?
VARIAN: It would be faster and more humane.
TIRION: —in order to secure a lasting stability that would work to both your advantages.
Garrosh and Varian stare at Tirion in silence for several seconds.
GARROSH: Were you done?
TIRION: <sighs> In any case… Under my roof, gentlemen, I trust you will behave yourselves.
VARIAN: Fine, Tirion. I’ll talk to you later. Or try to.
Varian leaves, the other Alliance following close behind. Tirion nods to Garrosh and likewise exits, in the opposite direction.
FARANELL: Well that was arguably needlessly elaborate.
DONTRAG: What’s the plan now, if I might inquire, oh great and nefarious Warchief?
FARANELL: “Nefarious”…?
MOKVAR: Just let him.
UTVOCH: Indeed, sir, are you planning to go through with the peace summit?
GARROSH: Dude, did you just meet me today or something?
FARANELL: Not to mention it would have been a lot easier just to fly up here if that were the case, without having to find parking spaces for all the demolishers.
GARROSH: The only peace I’m interested in with that Alliance scum is the one that will come after we’ve crushed them beneath our boots, and secured the supremacy of the Horde!
DONTRAG: For the Horde!
GARONA: For the Horde!
GARROSH: FOR THE HORDE!
{HORDE SONG}
GARROSH:
When you’re the Horde
You stand mighty and strong!
If the humans come toward,
They won’t be standing long.When you’re the Horde
You’re united and brave,
And across Kalimdor
Full dominion you crave.You’re not backing down,
You’re not intimidated!
You’re green and you’re brown.
(I hope not masticated.)
You’re unabated!If you get bored
Find some humans to slay –
At the end of your sword
Is the end of their days!
Cause we’re the Horde,
Yeah – For the Horde!Now I know Varian, and I’m damn sure he isn’t any more jazzed about this peace conference idea than I am.
LIADRIN: I’ll bet you anything he’s only here at all because Jaina talked him into it.
MOKVAR: Oh, yeah. Talked.
GARROSH: Fuck that shit, Mokvar. That would require the asshole to be able to—
FARANELL: I’m begging you not to finish that sentence.
DONTRAG: So what are we going to do, great and mighty Warchief?
UTVOCH: Are we skipping the peace summit?
GARROSH: Oh no, we’re going to the summit. See, Rhonin’s right about one thing – having our war with the Alliance drag on and on IS a waste. For US, anyway. The sooner it ends – with the Horde victorious – the sooner we can stop losing the lives of so many of our brave soldiers.
GARONA: So what are you planning?
GARROSH: We’ll go to Rhonin’s little conference – and I’m going to challenge Varian to a full-on confrontation. One last glorious battle, to decide the fate of Kalimdor at least, and maybe the entire world, once and for all. With victory for the Horde!
DONTRAG: For the Horde!
UTVOCH: For the Horde!
DONTRAG:
When you’re the Horde
You say “Lok’tar ogar!”
Hey, I’m singing a chord!
I can’t carry it far…UTVOCH:
When you’re the Horde
All’s achievable now!
All the wins that we’ve scored,
Inconceivable—OW!!ALL:
The Horde’s on the move,
Our hearts full of defiance!
We’ve nothing to prove
Once we slay the Alliance,
Down to a science!Here comes the Horde
And here’s where we begin
Charging headlong to war
And you know that we’ll win.Here comes the Horde
And the world’s gonna quake,
First we wiped out Southshore,
Then the Barrens we’ll take.We’re drawin’ the line,
And if they don’t like hurtin’,
They’ll stay on their side,
And if they don’t, it’s certain
For them it’s curtains!Here comes the Horde!
When we reach Dalaran
We won’t sign no accord—UTVOCH:
Isn’t this Karazhan?
GARROSH: <glaring>
Dontrag, I told
You
Once:
WORD
BAN.All exit, and the lights fade. After a few seconds, the lights gradually come up again, revealing a large room in the Violet Citadel of Dalaran. Rhonin paces around the middle of the room.
From stage right, Garrosh enters, followed by Mokvar, Liadrin, Faranell, Garona, Dontrag, and Utvoch.
From stage left, the Alliance contingent enters: Varian Wrynn, Jaina Proudmoore, Tyrande Whisperwind, Prophet Velen, Falstad Wildhammer, Shandris Feathermoon, Master Mathias Shaw, and Deliana.
As both groups enter, Rhonin mills about greeting them. No voices are audible, but it’s clear from the participants’ body language that they’re talking. Occasionally Garrosh is seen smacking Dontrag and/or Utvoch in the head.
From opposite sides of the room, Mokvar and Deliana notice each other, then begin to walk toward each other slowly at center stage. They meet in the middle of the room, just as, in the background, Rhonin waves Garrosh and Varian toward each other.
DELIANA: Mokvar…?
MOKVAR: I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Liana…
In the background, Garrosh and Varian can be seen talking, growing increasingly animated, while Rhonin appears to try to calm them both down.
DELIANA: I…I was worried about you.
MOKVAR: <nods> I’d heard you were in Ironforge. I’m glad they didn’t get to you.
DELIANA: When the spectral assassins started coming for the others, I recruited help to try to appease Valthalak. I’d hoped they could do it before the assassins came for you, too.
MOKVAR: I did the same. Mostly to protect my own neck, but still.
DELIANA: <chuckles> Not for me? And here I thought I was something special.
MOKVAR: <laughs> Now you sound like my wife.
In the background, Garrosh and Varian storm angrily away from each other, then pause, turn, charge at each other, and start fighting as most of the rest of their respective groups collapse in closer.
DELIANA: Mokvar, something’s wrong.
MOKVAR: <glances over his shoulder at the fight> What was your first hint?
DELIANA: No, I mean…in Ironforge. A few days ago…I saw Theldren.
MOKVAR: What?
In the background, Rhonin jumps in close to Garrosh and Varian, then unleashes a burst of arcane energy that knocks them away from each other.
RHONIN: <muted by distance but audible> We have all lost a great deal in these conflicts – but we stand to lose everything if we do not stop fighting!
Mokvar and Deliana look back to each other; behind them, the two factions mill about on opposite sides of the room, watching each other guardedly.
MOKVAR: Wait…you saw Theldren? Alive?
DELIANA: <nods> He came to see Moira Thaurissan. I don’t know what about.
MOKVAR: I can’t believe he’s still alive…
DELIANA: It worries me. If he came out of hiding…or if he’s decided Blackrock Depths isn’t safe enough anymore as a hiding place…
At the right side of the stage, Dontrag and Utvoch begin to look curiously at Mokvar, pointing at him and gesturing to each other as they appear to talk. (Which they do. Endlessly. Because they’re Dontrag and Utvoch.)
MOKVAR: Liana…I’ve seen something, too.
Mokvar waves her closer; Deliana leans in nearer to him.
DELIANA: What? What’s wrong?
MOKVAR: It’s…him. He’s back. And he’s in Orgrimmar.
DELIANA: Who…? Not Valthalak?
MOKVAR: <shaking head> No, no, not Valthalak, but—
DELIANA: <eyes going wide> Oh…ohh…oh no, no…
To the side, Dontrag and Utvoch are joined by Garrosh.
UTVOCH: <aside> Warchief? What’s going on with Mokvar?
DONTRAG: <aside> He seems to be on pretty…um…good terms with that human.
GARROSH: <aside> Yeah…he does, doesn’t he…
Deliana looks around nervously.
DELIANA: Mokvar, why would he be in Orgrimmar? What is he doing there?
MOKVAR: Bending the Warchief’s ear, mostly…
DELIANA: He…? Oh no…Mokvar…
GARROSH: <aside> Seriously, wasn’t it enough that Thrall had that incomprehensible thing for Jaina? Is this going to be some new thing?
DONTRAG: <aside> Well, begging your pardon, most highly annoyable and punch-titious sir, she…well, she does have nice legs for a human.
UTVOCH: <aside> Eh, doesn’t really do much for me.
DONTRAG: <aside> No, because she doesn’t have hooves, Ut.
DELIANA: Mokvar, what are we going to do?
MOKVAR: I don’t know. He’s managed to get himself into Garrosh’s inner circle somehow. He’s practically become Garrosh’s inner circle. I don’t know if he’s even touchable at this point.
Garona joins Garrosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch.
GARONA: <aside> What are we all looking at?
DONTRAG: <aside> Mokvar putting the moves on some human, we think.
GARONA: <aside> Ugh, really? Why do you orc men always seem to go after everything but orc women?
GARROSH: <aside> You mean based on the example of an orc woman we have on hand?
DELIANA: Mokvar…I’ll try to see if I can learn anything.
MOKVAR: How?
DELIANA: Bodley. I think I may still be able to reach his ghost…
MOKVAR: I’ll see if I can dig up anything on my end. When should we meet again?
DELIANA: Tomorrow? You know where…
MOKVAR: <nods> Be careful.
DELIANA: You too.
Mokvar and Deliana walk cautiously back to their respective sides of the room. The Alliance contingent begins to leave, while Mokvar appears to talk distractedly with Liadrin and Faranell.
GARROSH: I don’t like the looks of this fraternizing with the enemy at all…
MOKVAR: <aside> I’ll talk to you later, Edwin. I think I need a little air.
The lights dim on all but Mokvar as he walks away from the others and leaves. He steps offstage for a moment, then reenters; a spotlight follows him around the stage as he wanders through Dalaran.
{LIANA}
MOKVAR:
A name I never thought I’d hear again…
(Liana, Liana, Liana, Liana)
Since we fled long ago from the heart of a dragon’s den…
(Liana, Liana, Liana, Liana)
Liana!
I saw her again: Deliana.
But now we are aghast:
A shadow of the past
Is here.Liana!
Stay safe, my old friend Deliana.
We may have just delayed
The bane of the Veiled Blade,
I fear.Liana!
Go and seek out the ghost of Bodley,
While I question my contacts broadly.
Liana,
This all played out oddly.
Liana, Liana, Liana, Liana, Liana,
Liana, Liana, Liana, Liana, Liana.
All our efforts we’d best redouble:
We might be in a whole lot of trouble.
Liana,
WTB pally bubble…
Liana.A name I never thought I’d hear again…
Liana.Blackout. At Valiance Keep, Varian and the other Alliance members enter.
JAINA: Are you really going to go through with this?
VARIAN: Did I look like I was joking when I agreed to it, Jaina?
JAINA: But one fight to determine the future of a whole continent?
SHANDRIS: It does sound like quite the gamble, Highness.
VARIAN: You sound like you don’t have faith in my chances against Garrosh, Shandris.
SHANDRIS: Hellscream does not have the best track record with regard to honorable combat, Highness.
VARIAN: Hence why I insisted we hold the duel in a setting where we can keep a close eye on him.
FALSTAD: He’ll be tryin’ somethin’ fer sure, Yer Highness, just ye watch.
VARIAN: At least in our own territory, we won’t have to worry as much about the place swarming with orcs.
VELEN: Hang on – swarming with orcs? That sounds like something the Legion would do! The Legion isn’t back, is it?
VARIAN: <rubbing forehead> No, Velen, the Legion isn’t back.
VELEN: You’d tell me, right? I need time to pack.
VARIAN: Believe me, the last thing I would ever do is get in the way of you packing.
JAINA: Speaking of which, if you do lose, do you really plan for us to…go through with it?
VARIAN: I made an agreement, Jaina: one battle, leader against leader, for control of Kalimdor, once and for all. I intend to honor it.
TYRANDE: I don’t much like this business of you gambling with the lands my people have called home for millennia.
VARIAN: Oh, hush, Tyrande.
TYRANDE: …
SHANDRIS: Oh no he didn’t.
TYRANDE: You are not nearly hot enough to get away with talking to me like that!
VARIAN: The point is, I don’t intend to lose. And then you’ll be happy I took up the challenge, when the forests of Ashenvale are no longer crawling with orcs.
VELEN: Crawling with orcs! That’s it, not taking any chances – I’m out! Good luck, people.
Velen exits.
VARIAN: <sighs> Well, they don’t call him Bailin’ Velen for nothing, I suppose.
TYRANDE: Wanting the orcs out is all well and good, but taking such an all-or-nothing risk…
SHAW: Really, I don’t see what you’re so worried about. I mean…it’s just Kalimdor.
TYRANDE: Umm…what?
VARIAN: Seriously.
SHANDRIS: You…can’t be serious.
JAINA: You realize they’ve both lived there for thousands of years, right?
FALSTAD: Maybe ye could use a change o’ scenery, then.
VARIAN: I’m not disputing it would be a loss, but it’s not as if there’s a lot over there that’s irreplaceable…
TYRANDE: Are you not familiar with the World Tree?
SHAW: The one that burned with Archimonde and…hang on…nothing happened?
JAINA: I…don’t believe you three.
VARIAN: Oh, don’t worry about Jaina. She grew up in Kul Tiras and Dalaran but then she decided to go move into her own place and forget her old home.
JAINA: Not true! I remember it well.
{KALIMDOR}
JAINA:
Eastern Kingdoms:
A lovely visit.
I wouldn’t ever want to live it.
Greatest city there you found
Pulled itself out of the ground –
Dalaran’d rather float around!
Half the mountains burning.
Undead plague is churning.
I’ll take kingdom Theramore
(Well, till it ain’t there no more).JAINA, TYRANDE, and SHANDRIS:
I like to be here in Kalimdor.
So much to see here in Kalimdor.
Make the orcs flee out of Kalimdor!VARIAN:
Horde burning trees there in Kalimdor.
JAINA:
Winterspring sledding is so fun!
SHAW:
Look for a flight path – there ain’t none!
SHANDRIS:
Vast tranquil plains under blue sky.
VARIAN:
Barrens chat: listen once, you’ll cry.
JAINA:
Earn gold in Ratchet in Kalimdor.
FALSTAD:
Goblins will snatch it in Kalimdor!
TYRANDE:
Draenei chose to land in Kalimdor.
In the background, the Exodar flies by.
VARIAN: <pointing a thumb at the ship>
Velen just abandoned Kalimdor.
TYRANDE:
Historic places in Felwood.
VARIAN:
Illidan screwed that up real good.
JAINA:
Caverns of Time sifting sand, ha!
SHAW:
One slip and you’re your own grandma.
SHANDRIS:
Ysera greets you in Kalimdor!
FALSTAD:
Devilsaurs eat you in Kalimdor!
TYRANDE:
Night elves defiant in Kalimdor.
VARIAN:
Roaches are giant in Kalimdor.
JAINA:
Out to the forests – a fun romp!
SHAW:
Forests? You’re stuck in a damn swamp!
TYRANDE:
Titan creations in Uldum.
FALSTAD:
Those almost made the world go boom.
VARIAN:
So much frustration in Kalimdor.
Steak rules a nation in Kalimdor.
All your flirtation in Kalimdor!JAINA: <glares and draws a dagger>
You risk castration in Kalimdor.
VARIAN:
You should come back to Kul Tiras.
SHANDRIS:
Not on the map – do they fear us?
VARIAN:
Garrosh will strike if you don’t fly.
JAINA:
Yeah, sure, I’d like to see him try.
Blackout. The stage is illuminated again, gradually, by fiery light, revealing the interior of Blackrock Mountain. Mokvar enters, stage left, and walks amid the rubble and stone, looking around cautiously.
The stage lights become brighter as Mokvar nears center stage, illuminating, above, the balcony leading to Blackrock Spire. From the entrance to the spire, Deliana enters, looking down.
DELIANA: Mokvar!
MOKVAR: <looking up> Liana! Are you all right up there?
DELIANA: Other than a few bruises from the fifteen times I tried to hop over to this blasted balcony and missed? Peachy.
MOKVAR: Yeah, I’m not taking my chances. Knowing my luck I’m liable to fall in the lava.
DELIANA: Does anyone know you’re here?
MOKVAR: No. You can tell that by the fact that I am here, and not dead.
DELIANA: <nods> I had to sneak out as well… I suspect Varian would be none too pleased if he knew I was meeting you.
MOKVAR: I’m pretty sure “none too pleased” would be the best case scenario with Garrosh.
DELIANA: Have you found out anything?
MOKVAR: Nothing very much. I’ve had to be fairly careful with my asking around, so I haven’t been able to dig as much as I’d like. I know Malkorok turned up in Orgrimmar some months ago, and rose through the ranks quickly. But nobody seems to know where he came from. Well, other than the obvious.
DELIANA: <nods> I can’t understand how he won Garrosh’ trust so quickly.
MOKVAR: How did he win Rend’s?
DELIANA: And how did that work out?
MOKVAR: I know… What about you? Were you able to…?
DELIANA: Yes… <sighs>
MOKVAR: The fact that you’re stopping there tells me it’s bad news.
DELIANA: Not much to go on, but it doesn’t sound good. I was only able to make contact briefly, but…there have been spectral assassins here. Leaving the spire. For the first time in years…
MOKVAR: There’s…about half a dozen ways to account for that, and none of them are good.
DELIANA: I know.
MOKVAR: Anything else?
DELIANA: That’s it so far. <sigh> I’d really hoped this was over years ago.
MOKVAR: So did I.
DELIANA: I suppose you reap what you sow, though, don’t you…
MOKVAR: Yeah… Well, what’s done is done. Nothing to be done about it now.
DELIANA: I know. Still, I wish I could just go back in time sometimes.
MOKVAR: No, you don’t. Trust me. It’s more headaches than it’s worth.
DELIANA: What do we do now?
MOKVAR: I’ll try to call in a few more of my contacts…I’ve got a few people still who owe me favors. Check around too, if you can…
DELIANA: I will. I’ll find a way to contact you one way or another in the next day or two.
MOKVAR: Be careful. If the wrong people find out what we’re doing, they’re not going to care what it is we’re actually talking about.
DELIANA: I know. Watch out for yourself, Mokvar.
MOKVAR: Have been for years. Stay safe, Liana.
Liana nods, then waves, and disappears into the spire doorway. Mokvar watches her go, looks around uneasily, and exits, stage right.
After Mokvar leaves the stage, a low whooshing sound is heard. To the left side of the stage, near one of the large stone blocks, Garona unstealths. She peers across the stage to the right side, a look of concern on her face, then stealths again.
The curtain closes.
{TO BE CONTINUED IN ACT 2…}
Wrath of the Lich King
Show time.
The group assembled today on the Windrunner: me, both Saurfangs, Liadrin, Edwin, Jaina, Mokvar, Dontrag, and Utvoch. I figured the way the Scourge have swarmed through practically all of Northrend, I’d just as soon not leave anything to chance, which is why we brought so much heavy-artillery personnel. Drok and his crew had the ship ready to go, and we set off for the Nexus in Coldarra. Once we had the Focusing Iris, we’d head straight for Dalaran, where Jaina’s Kirin Tor friends would be ready to port us straight to the Caverns of Time.
We arrived at the Nexus and docked the ship on one of the upper ring platforms that was equipped with a teleportation orb. One problem: the platform was swarming with Scourge – all the platforms were. Vargul and skeletons mostly, with a couple necromancer types lurking around the back.
I’ll tell you, Mokvar was right the other day. This really wasn’t fair.
Between me whirlwinding through skeletons by the bushel, Liadrin Diving Storming her way right through the heart of them, Jaina flame-roasting undead in bunches, and – yup – Saurfangs Young and Old cleaving down everything in sight, it didn’t take us long to clear a path to the teleportation orb. The only down side was that those necromancers kept summoning more undead, and every so often a proto-drake would fly by and drop another damn vrykul to help keep the influx coming.
GARROSH: They’re not getting anywhere, but neither are we if we just stay up here all day killing these fuckers…
The necromancers cast another summoning spell, and some hundred new skeletons appear on the platform.
LIADRIN: <slashing by one of the vargul> We don’t all need to be up here – you go, I’ll stay and protect the ship.
GARROSH: You sure? There’s still an awful lot of them.
Liadrin rushes into a cluster of vargul, dropping them all with another spinning Divine Storm. As she finishes her follow-through, she lands on one knee, slamming the Ashbringer down onto the platform floor; a shimmering flash of yellow-white light bursts from the Ashbringer and shoots out in a horizontal shockwave in all directions. The light rips through the skeletons and sends them spilling onto the floor, burning with holy fire. Still on one knee, Liadrin tilts her head up at Garrosh.
LIADRIN: I’m not worried.
Jaina runs to a clear area near the gunship and starts channeling a spell. A glowing blue runic circle begins to appear on the floor beneath her.
JAINA: ’m placing a portal marker here. Once we have the Focusing Iris, I’ll be able to teleport us directly back.
Several more vargul drop onto the platform. While Liadrin engages them, several val’kyr and gargoyles descend down over the Windrunner.
SAURFANG: <rushing back to the gunship and cleaving through gargoyles> I’ll stay back as well to help guard the ship.
MOKVAR: Well now you’re just running up the score on them.
SAURFANG: The rest of you – go!
DRANOSH: You all heard the man. Let’s get moving.
We took the teleportation orb into the Nexus. The sight that greeted us froze us all in our tracks. Around the circular room and down every hall, the ground was littered with the lifeless bodies of blue dragons. We all just stared for a minute while the sight sunk in. I think it hit Jaina the hardest, what with her probably having had some dealings with the blues over the years. She knelt down over one of the dead dragons and put a hand over its face.
JAINA: This… I know her. This is… Her name is…was Kirygosa. She was a daughter of Malygos…
UTVOCH: Wait, when you said there were going to be a lot of dragons here, I thought you meant they were going to be alive.
GARROSH: …Seriously?
FARANELL: That’s got to be an act, right? I mean he can’t possibly really be that stupid.
MOKVAR: Dontrag and Utvoch: raising the bar on lowering the bar, since the dawn of time.
DONTRAG: Hey, I didn’t say anything!
GARROSH: Yet.
DRANOSH: <surveying the halls> Most of the… <glances back at Jaina, then lowers his voice slightly> …most of the blood seems fresh. Whoever did this did it fairly recently.
GARROSH: Probably still nearby.
Jaina stands slowly, still looking down at the bodies.
JAINA: Kalecgos considered her one of his dearest friends…
DRANOSH: The next time you see him, you can tell him all about the world of pain we brought down on the ones who did this to her.
GARROSH: It has to be the Scourge, based on upstairs. Not sure why they’d be coming after the blue dragons, though.
JAINA: At this point, they’re one of the only major powers left between them and all of Northrend… It was only a matter of time before they struck here.
GARROSH: That’s the thing, though – yeah, they have the Horde and Alliance on the ropes, but why wouldn’t they finish them off first, THEN take on the dragons? The Lich King has to know he’s got the upper hand. Why divide his efforts?
DRANOSH: Maybe he wants to finish both off quickly?
GARROSH: All the time we were up here fighting him, did you ever know Arthas to be impatient?
JAINA: He’s not. Anymore.
DRANOSH: <shrugs> Either way. I am the impatient type – let’s go find that Focusing Iris and let it be finished.
We made our way deeper into the Nexus, finding more slain dragons all the way. As we worked our way down a long, descending passageway, we could hear sounds of combat, and reptilian cries of pain. I ordered Dontrag and Utvoch to make sure they kept Edwin safe under pain of so-much-worse-than-death-your-admittedly-limited-brains-would-melt-just-trying-to-imagine-it. The bottom of the passage was dark and filled with shadows. As the floor leveled out from the end of our descent, we turned a corner and came to a doorway.
The room was large and circular, with crystalline patterns in the walls and floor, like so many of the other rooms here. In the center of the room, hovering in the air of its own accord, was the Focusing Iris – an enormous blue orb, glowing with arcane power. On the far side of the room, four humanoids – a human, a tauren, and a pair of dwarves – all wearing armor like that of a death knight, stood over bodies of blue dragons. More bodies filled the room, and the air reeked with the smell of draconic blood. Two more death knights, a draenei and a troll, flanked the doorway on either side, and as we came around the corner they called out a warning.
And as the sentries cried out, in the center of the room, out from behind the Focusing Iris stepped Tirion Fordring. Covered in spiked black armor, wielding a runeblade, eyes glowing a deathly pale blue. I’ll tell you, I was never crazy about Tirion, but this was still horrible to see. Even Tirion deserved better than this.
TIRION: <grinning broadly> Ah, how serendipitous! It appears fate has set us all upon a parallel venture, and I find myself reunited with personages of no small familiarity. I greet you all, good orcs and humans, and welcome you to the curtain’s rise on the final act of this grand endeavor!
GARROSH: By the spirits…
Tirion gestures to his minions.
DRANOSH: What?
Tirion’s Deathbringers rush at the group, blades poised.
GARROSH: He still loves to talk.
Jaina casts a Cone of Cold that slows the death knights’ approach.
DRANOSH: <shrugs> Time to do what we do. Lok’tar!
GARROSH: For the Horde!
DONTRAG and UTVOCH: For the Horde!
MOKVAR: For the Horde!
JAINA: Um, actually…
Jaina exchanges a shrug with Faranell.
Okay. Whatever.
Garrosh, Dranosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch rush forward to engage the Deathbringers, and the two groups battle back and forth, with Tirion lurking by the Focusing Iris, watching and taunting.
TIRION: Good, my glorious vassals, unleash your fury and show these intruders the fate that awaits those who would interfere with the work of our dread lord the Lich King! Woe be to any who stand against us! Their ruined bodies shall be the latest paving the way to our inevitable dominion over this world!
GARROSH: <exchanging blows with the tauren> The hell are you even HERE for, Tirion? What do you fuckers even want with the Focusing Iris?
TIRION: Well could I ask you the same, young Hellscream! But as it will profit you naught, I will tell you, so that you might meet your end knowing the full scope of your failure, and indeed the hand you and your ilk have had in bringing forth this very hour!
DRANOSH: <aside> That’s it, get him monologuing…
GARROSH: <aside> He’s going to be monologuing anyway, might as well get him going on something useful maybe…
Dranosh and Garrosh continue pushing back the tauren and human. Dontrag and Utvoch spar with the two dwarves, aided by chain lightning from Mokvar, while Jaina launches a seething fireball that incinerates the troll.
TIRION: Did you truly believe your ill-fated ploy to deny the Lich King your precious Sunwell would go unanswered? That the master of the Scourge would be halted by your sad, trifling magician’s tricks? You merely delayed the inevitable; and now, with the Focusing Iris in hand, the Lich King’s mightiest seers will shatter the meddlesome bubble conjured by that poor, doomed, suddenly so very solitary dragon Kalecgos—
Jaina lets loose another pair of fireballs, finishing the dwarven death knights fighting Dontrag and Utvoch.
JAINA: Kalcgos’ flight had no part in this war, Tirion! The old you – the real you – he would be sickened to see what you’ve done to these innocents!
TIRION: Oh, Lady Proudmoore, do not be so naïve as to think the blues innocent – or yourself. It was Kalecgos who chose to throw in his lot with your kind and aid in your foolish charade at the Sunwell, and all of you who interfered in the Scourge’s march. The Lich King was content to leave these pitiable lizards be – for now. It was you who forced his hand, you who altered his plans, you who made the Focusing Iris a necessary implement—
DRANOSH: Spirits, he likes to talk…
GARROSH: Dude, you have NO IDEA.
TIRION: —and you, all of you, who helped bring this fate upon the Blue Dragonflight today! From their blood shall flow the coming of a new age for this world! From their deaths shall be forged a new future, bathed in carnage!
JAINA: <gathering a fiery glow in her hands> You want carnage? Arthas will have more blood than he ever bargained for!
Jaina unleashes a massive fireball that tears through the draenei death knight and badly burns the tauren and human – whom Dranosh and Garrosh quickly finish off – and hurls Tirion back against the far wall.
DRANOSH: Remind me not to piss her off.
GARROSH: No shit, right?
Tirion pulls himself up and faces the group.
TIRION: You all shall pay dearly for—
DRANOSH: <charging in and knocking Tirion a few steps back> Pro tip, Tirion – when your boys are taking it on the chin, might be a good idea to stop running your mouth for a minute and help them out.
Garrosh joins in, and Tirion begins scrambling to deflect both orcs’ blows.
TIRION: You think I fear you, boy? Through the Lich King I have seen power the likes of which you cannot comprehend! By his will I have cast off death itself, and risen anew, ascended, greater than I might ever have dreamed in my former, paltry, limited existence! You do not know what you trifle with, you—
As Dranosh and Garrosh unleash a flurry of blows from both sides, Jaina singes Tirion with a surge of flame, then freezes him in place with a frost nova, throwing off his footing.
GARROSH: Tirion…
Garrosh locks one of his axes in a parry with Tirion, then drops his second axe from his free hand and swings his fist under the runeblade and into Tirion’s gut.
Shut.
Garrosh breaks the parry, forcing Tirion’s blade hand to swing to one side, where Dranosh hacks it away at the wrist.
The fuck.
Garrosh and Dranosh bring their axes down from either side, slamming viciously into the base of Tirion’s neck.
UP!
Tirion slumps lifeless to the floor.
JAINA: <looking down sadly at the body> You have been missed, old friend. May your spirit finally find its rest now.
MOKVAR: Okay, let’s get what we came for and go.
JAINA: Let me get it into a more manageable form…
Jaina holds her hands out to the Focusing Iris and begins channeling beams of arcane magic into it. Slowly, the Focusing Iris shrinks until it has been reduced to a shimmering blue sphere about a foot in diameter, hovering in the air.
There…now we just need to—
Jaina is interrupted by a shadowy, purple tendril of magic that lashes out at her from the doorway and yanks her back toward it. Her body flies backward through the air and – with a hideous slicing sound – into a blade held out from the dark hallway:
Frostmourne.
As Dranosh steps in to catch the falling Focusing Iris, the Lich King strides into the room, Jaina’s body still impaled on the runebalde.
LICH KING: Impressive…
The Lich King shakes Frostmourne, dropping Jaina’s body to the ground.
Most impressive.
UTVOCH: Okay, this isn’t so bad, there’s just one of him against all of us…
The Lich King drives Frostmourne’s blade into the floor, releasing a shockwave that knocks the group back against the far wall of the room. As they recover, the Lich King hold Frostmourne aloft and begins channeling a spell.
LICH KING: Now then…a further test…
Crackling purple energy shoots out of Frostmourne in all directions. Slowly, the dozens of dragon corpses around the room begin to rise, eyes glowing a dull blue, bodies withered and gaunt.
GARROSH: Oh…shit…
DONTRAG: You really have to keep your mouth shut, Ut.
The nearest few reanimated dragons rush at them. Garrosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch step in to intercept them and start to fight them back, with Mokvar and Faranell casting spells at them from behind.
The Lich King continues channeling. After a few seconds, Jaina’s body rises from the floor; her hair has turned white save for a single blonde streak, and her eyes shimmer with a lifeless blue glow. She looks around the room, then faces the Lich King.
JAINA: A-Arthas…?
LICH KING: I have missed you…my Queen.
Jaina grins hideously, turns, and unleashes an enormous fireball that incinerates two of the dragons on its way toward Faranell.
DONTRAG: Doc!
UTVOCH: Look out!
Dontrag lunges at Faranell while Utvoch rushes in from the opposite side. Dontrag shoves Faranell out of the fireball’s path, just before the flames reduce both him and Utvoch to smoldering heaps of ash.
DRANOSH: Edwin! Jaina was our ride out. That’s your job now – port us out of here, and fast!
FARANELL: But— I’m not that powerful a mage!
Dranosh shoves the Focusing Iris into Faranell’s hands; a bluish white glow shimmers over his body.
DRANOSH: You are now. Fire it up!
Garrosh and Mokvar – both fighting dragons – back up toward Dranosh and Faranell. Faranell closes his eyes, mutters an incantation, and teleports the group away in a blinding flash.
We reappeared up on the ring platform where we’d docked – a few yards off from Jaina’s targeting rune, but hey, I’m not going to nitpick over a clutch save from Edwin. When we appeared, we were greeted by the sight of an enormous pile of Scourge corpses that formed a hill leading up to the Windrunner. Dozens of vargul, hundreds of ghouls and skeletons, val’kyr, geists, a couple frost wyrms…and sitting on top of the pile were Liadrin and Saurfang, taking turns drinking from a waterskin.
LIADRIN: <looks up at them> What kept you?
DRANOSH: We had guests.
GARROSH: Come on, everyone get on the ship.
SAURFANG: Where are the others? Lady Proudmoore, and the…cerebrally inexpansive duo?
GARROSH: They didn’t make it.
SAURFANG: What happened?
DRANOSH: Arthas is here.
LIADRIN: By the Light… Get on board, and quickly!
GARROSH: What happened to you not being worried?
LIADRIN: I wasn’t.
DRANOSH: Fire it up, Captain! Top speed to Dalaran!
The group boards the Windrunner, which disembarks from the platform. After a moment, the ship shakes and creaks, then begins to slide slowly backwards.
DRANOSH: Um, Drok? I don’t think I said anything about reverse.
DROK: We’re still on full ahead, sir, I don’t—
GARROSH: Uh, I think you guys might want to have a look at this…
They turn to look back at the ring platform, where the Lich King now stands, channeling a dark purple band of energy from his hand that grips the gunship, and using it to slowly tug the ship back toward the Nexus.
MOKVAR: He’s— he’s death-gripping the ship! How is he death-gripping the whole ship?!
DRANOSH: Drok, this would be a good time to give the engines a little extra – we’ve got to get out of here!
DROK: I’m giving them everything she’s got, sir! I can’t change the laws of physics!
Saurfang stands at the railing, watching as the Lich King slowly drags the gunship back toward him. Saurfang looks back at Dranosh, then to Garrosh.
SAURFANG: He’s looked out for you since you were children.
Garrosh gives a quizzical look, then nods.
Look out for him now.
Saurfang turns and launches himself off the deck, toward the platform below.
FOR THE HORDE!
Saurfang barrels into the Lich King and they both crash onto the floor. With the Lich King’s death grip broken, the gunship lurches forward again and starts to pull away from the Nexus.
DRANOSH: Father! No!
Garrosh intercepts Dranosh as he rushes to the edge of the ship and pulls him back.
GARROSH: Get us OUT of here, Captain!
DRANOSH: <spinning back toward Drok, still in Garrosh’s grip> No! Turn us around, Drok, we have to—
Garrosh spins Dranosh back to face him.
GARROSH: You know what he’s doing! DON’T LET IT BE FOR NOTHING!
Dranosh stops struggling. Garrosh releases him, and as the gunship continues its escape, he walks to the railing and looks down at the platform, where the Lich King knocks Saurfang away from him.
LICH KING: Foolish old orc! You dare stand against me? Do you know how many of your kind I’ve slain?
SAURFANG: You…murdered…children. <draws his axe> You answer to Saurfang now!
Saurfang charges the Lich King furiously, cleaving and slashing with his axe. The Lich King parries with Frostmourne, and the two grapple back and forth as the platform shrinks from view.
I’m writing from the Windrunner now. We should reach Dalaran soon. I’ll update again when I can, if the news is good. If it isn’t, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here to keep updating.
In the meantime, we continue on our way to Dalaran.
In silence.
[Header image of the Nexus provided by regular reader and commenter ZugZug. Gunship image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click here to see the souped-up Postcard version! Both images used with permission and many thanks.]
The fire in which we burn
Dranosh left with the Windrunner for Theramore. He brought Dontrag and Utvoch, which, I mean, I know this is really no time for jokes, but…HAHA! Poor fucker. Anyway, he’s going to see if he can find Faranell there, or in Thunder Bluff if need be. One way or another, Mokvar and I will meet him there when we’re done on our end.
We got Mokvar hooked up with a wyvern, and we both flew down from Ashenvale to Tanaris. Soridormi was there to greet us when we arrived at the Caverns of Time.
SORIDORMI: Overlord. Or do you still prefer “Warchief” in this reality? It’s so hard to know what to call certain people.
GARROSH: Doesn’t matter. Call me whatever.
SORIDORMI: Oh? So if I decide “Roshy” has a nice ring to it…?
GARROSH: Don’t get clever.
SORIDORMI: <wry grin> I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.
GARROSH: <grumbles> Fine, whatever. While you’re being all smug and smart, though, how about this – last time I was here, seems to me you might have, you know, neglected to mention a few minor details about this world.
SORIDORMI: In fairness, I did tell you all that there were other events that played out differently.
GARROSH: Which you totally made sound like “I’m just glossing over this since it’s not really that important.”
SORIDORMI: Did I? Hardly. Every moment is important, Garrosh. But at the time, there was no telling how much longer I had to detail matters further. We were – if you’ll pardon the expression – working on borrowed time.
GARROSH: And now?
SORIDORMI: This timeline has taken…a much firmer hold.
MOKVAR: The last few times we’ve shifted, our time here has gotten longer, and our time in the original timeline has gotten shorter…
SORIDORMI: <nods> This timeline is taking over as the predominant one. That overwriting of your reality will soon be complete, if it isn’t already.
GARROSH: Well then, since we’re in like 2% less of a rush now, how about you fill in a few gaps for us. Starting with, say, why it is that Orgrimmar is overrun right now by the Burning Legion and the Scourge, both of which we had pretty well under control last I checked.
SORIDORMI: In both cases, everything hinges on certain unexpected events involving the Battle of the Wrathgate.
GARROSH: Go on…
SORIDORMI: After the Alliance and Horde set aside their petty conflicts and united against the Lich King, Tirion Fordring’s Argent Crusade was able to assemble a strike force of the greatest champions from both factions. The team that Fordring would lead into Icecrown Citadel for the final assault would be far mightier even than the one that defeated Arthas in your timeline.
GARROSH: Okay, so I’m not seeing how that leads to things being WORSE.
SORIDORMI: It didn’t, at first. But you’ll recall, in the time leading up to the attack, the Lich King’s chief researcher was not Professor Putricide – Patrick Faranell – but Putress.
Soridormi holds out her hand and summons an image of Rotface and Festergut.
IMAGE OF ROTFACE: Daddy make toys out of you! WEEEEEE!
IMAGE OF FESTERGUT: Dead, dead, dead! Daddy, I did it!
SORIDORMI: Putricide’s most formidable creations, while strong, were ultimately…limited. Undermined by a lingering sentimentality that Putricide would carry into undeath from another life.
She shakes her hand, and the image changes to that of Patrick Faranell.
IMAGE OF PATRICK: Between you, me, and the walls, I’d rather like to have a couple sons… I remember how much Dad seemed to enjoy himself with us.
SORIDORMI: Putress’ malevolent ingenuity would have no such…humanity to temper it. He would furnish the Lich King with constructs more monstrous and strains of blight more virulent than anything known to your timeline.
GARROSH: Um, didn’t I ask you THIS VERY THING about Putress the last time?
SORIDORMI: You did. I didn’t give you an answer.
GARROSH: INDEED YOU DIDN’T.
MOKVAR: I think we might have distracted her, actually.
GARROSH: Whose side are you on?
MOKVAR: I’m on the side of us not standing around bickering over who said what and why.
GARROSH: Fine. So Putress invented some powerful shit, boy, don’t know why you never thought of that, Garrosh, go on please.
SORIDORMI: Strengthened by Putress’ creations, the Lich King would ultimately defeat Fordring’s even mightier strike force.
MOKVAR: So some of the most powerful heroes against the Scourge, from the Horde and Alliance, were all killed.
SORIDORMI: <pauses grimly> It would have been a kindness had they merely been killed.
Soridormi waves her hand, summoning a likeness of the Lich King.
IMAGE OF THE LICH KING: You trained them well, Fordring. You delivered the greatest fighting force this world has ever known…right into my hands – exactly as I intended.
MOKVAR: By the spirits…
GARROSH: He raised them as his minions…
SORIDORMI: And then killed Tirion Fordring. <closes her eyes a moment> And then raised him…
IMAGE OF THE LICH KING: You could’ve been my greatest champion, Fordring. A force of darkness that would wash over this world and deliver it into a new age of strife.
SORIDORMI: …to lead his new army of Deathbringers.
Garrosh and Mokvar exchange troubled looks.
GARROSH: Okay… Bad news part one done… Now what about the demons?
SORIDORMI: A further consequence of the defeat in Icecrown Citadel… You may recall, in your time, after the fall of the Lich King, some of his former minions would find for themselves…new allegiances.
Soridormi conjures a shimmering likeness of Sylvanas Windrunner.
IMAGE OF SYLVANAS: With the death of the Lich King, many of the more intelligent Scourge became…unemployed… They are under my command now…
SORIDORMI: With the Lich King victorious, the val’kyr would never ally themselves with Sylvanas. Which would prove…unfortunate for the Forsaken.
Soridormi waves her hand. Above her palm appears an image of Sylvanas with Lord Godfrey and High Warlord Cromush at the Greymane Wall.
IMAGE OF SYLVANAS: Soldiers of the Horde! We are victorious! Lordaeron is w—
The image of Lord Godfrey draws a pistol and shoots Sylvanas point-blank. She immediately falls dead on the ground.
IMAGE OF CROMUSH: What have you done, Godfrey?!
IMAGE OF GODFREY: Something that should have been done a long time ago, you filthy animal. Gilneas belongs to me, and so soon will the rest of Lordaeron!
SORIDORMI: In your timeline, Sylvanas was resurrected by her val’kyr servants. Here, she had no val’kyr to save her. Sylvanas Windrunner died – for the second and final time. In the aftermath of her death, leadership of the Undercity would pass to Sylvanas’ second, her majordomo of several years.
The nathrezim Varimathras.
GARROSH: Varimathras? How? He’s…dead…oh no…
MOKVAR: <head sinks> The Wrathgate…
SORIDORMI: <nods> Without Putress in the Undercity, Varimathras had no collaborator with whom to conspire against the Banshee Queen. There was never a coup against Sylvanas. And without the coup against Sylvanas, Varimathras was never exposed as the traitor he was — his true loyalties to the Burning Legion never revealed. He carried on unimpeded, not only free to continue his scheming in the Undercity, but eventually becoming its leader. Much time did not pass before he carried out his master plan…
She waves her hand again, summoning the fiery red likeness of a monstrous eredar.
…and summoned Kil’jaeden the Deceiver into this world. Bringing with him countless legions of demons from the Twisted Nether. Bringing with him the Second Fall of Lordaeron. Most of the Eastern Kingdoms was soon to follow.
GARROSH: Fucking hell…
MOKVAR: Soridormi… Edwin is in this world now, we think. If we can get him here, is there still time to undo all this?
SORIDORMI: If we can get him back to Southshore, we should be able to reset the timelines with both Edwins at the points they need to be.
GARROSH: Okay, great, so we’ll just collect him and get him down here and—
SORIDORMI: Actually getting him to old Southshore, though, is no easy task, and not without problems.
GARROSH: Dammit, I thought if I said that fast enough we could get out before the “but” kicked in.
MOKVAR: What’s the problem?
SORIDORMI: Sending Edwin back to period to which he’s already time-traveled involves crossing his own timeline in ways that no mortal was meant to do.
GARROSH: Ah…the whole “no double-dipping” thing.
SORIDORMI: To open a stable time portal for such a repeat incursion will require me to channel immense amounts of power – far more than I can summon up myself.
GARROSH: What about the Noz? He’s the head honcho time guy anyway, couldn’t he pull it off?
SORIDORMI: I am…the most powerful member of the Bronze Flight here.
GARROSH: How does that work? I mean I get that you’ve got this secret super time vision and whatever, but no offense, how did you get to be more powerful than Noz?
MOKVAR: Garrosh…
SORIDORMI: I’m not.
GARROSH: So what gives? Where is he, any…oh…oh no…
SORIDORMI: <looks down a moment> For a number of reasons…the final confrontation with Deathwing proved…far more costly in this timeline than in the other.
GARROSH: I… Wow do I feel like a jackass.
MOKVAR: This is what it finally took, huh?
GARROSH: So…we need a power source to tap into, then?
SORIDORMI: That’s right.
Garrosh stares off to one side, thinking anxiously.
MOKVAR: Not to bring up bad memories, Soridormi, but I don’t suppose the Dragon Soul is an option?
SORIDORMI: I would be, yes…
GARROSH: Okay, so—
SORIDORMI: Except that it has already been returned to its own time, and retrieving it a second time would involve the type of crossing of timelines that we need the power source for in the first place.
GARROSH: Okay, seriously, you’ve got to start leading with the “but” part of these answers.
MOKVAR: What about the spell book that Malchezaar used to bring the demons into Orgrimmar?
SORIDORMI: <shakes her head> The Book of Medivh is a powerful source of portal magic, for portals within this reality, but hardly helpful for the kind of temporal manipulation we’re undertaking.
GARROSH: <staring down, hesitant> What about…the Focusing Iris? From the Eye of Eternity?
SORIDORMI: <nods slowly> The Focusing Iris would work, yes. As a dragon relic, in fact, it should lend itself all the more easily to my use.
MOKVAR: Do we know where it is now?
GARROSH: The Blue Dragonflight is keeping it in Coldarra.
SORIDORMI: I will give you my talisman to show to the blues. They will give you the Iris if they know you’ve been sent by me. They’ll know I would not ask were the need not dire.
GARROSH: Okay then. I think we have a plan.
SORIDORMI: Indeed, Warchief.
GARROSH: You know what? Just call me Garrosh. People calling me “Warchief” here either gets confusing like with Utvoch earlier, or it’s just creepy like with Malchezaar.
MOKVAR: We should probably get go—
SORIDORMI: Wait, Garrosh – Malchezaar saw you, and called you “Warchief”?
GARROSH: Yeah, why?
SORIDORMI: <fidgets with her hands nervously> You need to go. Now. Take my talisman and get to Northrend quickly to recover the Focusing Iris.
MOKVAR: Why? What is it?
GARROSH: I’ve really kind of had my fill of flying blind around here. What’s got you spooked all of a sudden?
SORIDORMI: The Netherspace where Malchezaar dwelled was a distorted region of time.
GARROSH: Right, I know. Time loop, round and round, now he’s dead, now he’s not, boom. So what?
SORIDORMI: The Netherspace rests at the intersection of countless times. Those who dwell there can see into the different realities – bits and pieces, usually, but one never knows. If Malchezaar knows to call you “Warchief,” he has seen your other world. And in that case, he may well know enough – or could deduce – how the worlds fit together and how they might be corrected.
MOKVAR: It would really be nice if there could be some stupid people on the bad guys’ side for a change…
SORIDORMI: The Burning Legion stands on the brink of a victory on Azeroth that it has coveted for millennia. If they realize what we’re doing, they will not stand idly by. We need to act quickly.
GARROSH: Got it. Be doing whatever you need to do to get ready, Soridormi. We’ll be back with Edwin and the Focusing Iris.
SORIDORMI: I hope so, Garrosh. Titans watch over you.
We winged it double-time to Thunder Bluff. I’m writing from there now. Dranosh and the others haven’t arrived yet, but I’ve sent a messenger to Theramore with the barest bare-bones of what we need to do. I’m guessing he’ll be headed here by nightfall, morning at the latest, and then we can get moving.
Next stop, Northrend.
[Sylvanas and Kil’jaeden images above provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks. Click on the links in the previous sentence to see the souped-up Postcards versions!]
Time isn’t after us
{Previously on The Warchief’s Command Board…well, here. Go read it yourself and get caught up. We don’t have bandwidth for fucking previouslies.}
Garrosh looks around again.
GARROSH: So…much less crowded all of a sudden…
LIADRIN: Hmm. Just us three at the Caverns of Time?
SORIDORMI: <nods> Your counterparts in this timeline had come here on…related but different business.
GARROSH: Wait, our COUNTERPARTS?
SORIDORMI: <nods> For lack of a better word.
LIADRIN: Oh, I think I’ve read about this… <looking around again> I never thought I would experience it first-hand, though…
GARROSH: Okay, so since everybody seems to understand this but me, could SOMEONE please explain what the fuck is going on?
SORIDORMI: You’re caught in the backwash of Edwin’s temporal instability.
GARROSH: Yeah, there’s not one single part of that sentence that was helpful.
SORIDORMI: The flashes you’ve been experiencing have all corresponded to Faranell’s time shifts. Every time he’s jumped to another point in his timeline, you have been shifting into…well, here.
LIADRIN: An alternate timeline.
GARROSH: So how come the Noz didn’t notice this? And where is he, anyway? How come he missed this kinda major part of what’s going on?
SORIDORMI: Nozdormu can see the disturbances surrounding Edwin’s displacement in time easily enough, but the intermingling of realities occurring in the background is a bit…beyond his perception.
GARROSH: But it’s not beyond yours? No offense, but I thought the Noz was the one with the super-uber-heightened time perception.
SORIDORMI: <sighs, then smiles> Believe me, I’m not the first woman ever to let her husband go on thinking he was the smart one for the sake of his fragile ego.
Liadrin chuckles briefly.
MOKVAR: So are we the only ones shifting into this timeline? Why us?
SORIDORMI: Yes and no. You’re not the only ones toggling realities, but you are the only ones who have started to retain your memories of one timeline when you move to the other. Those of you who were with Edwin in Southshore have been left with a sort of temporal residue that’s making it possible for you to bridge the gaps between realities.
GARROSH: Okay…I think I’m starting to get this… So in that case…
Mokvar starts chuckling, quickly descending into raucous laughter.
Um, dude, what’s so funny?
MOKVAR: <still laughing> No, sorry, I’m just thinking…since this is affecting all of us from Southshore… I’m just imagining Utvoch trying to figure out what the hell is going on…
Mokvar falls into another fit of laughter. Garrosh thinks for a moment, his eyes widening and a broad grin spreading across his face as he does, then starts laughing as well.
GARROSH: Oh…oh man…that’s just…ha ha HAA!
LIADRIN: Um, Garrosh? Don’t you think we should…?
GARROSH: <still laughing> Oh SHIT!
MOKVAR: <doubled over> Hahaha…what?
GARROSH: <starts to lean on Mokvar for support amid chortles> Can you…can you imagine him trying to explain this shit to Dontrag?
MOKVAR: OHHHH! HAHAHA!!
GARROSH: Can’t you just see them? “I think I was somewhere else,” “No you weren’t, you were right here,” “Yeah, I was here, but you weren’t,” “I was too here,” “No you weren’t, I was here only it was somewhere else here, and you were gone,” “Are you sure I wasn’t here?” “I think so.” “Huh, I wonder where I went…”
MOKVAR: <gasping for breath and leaning back against Garrosh> Stop! You have to stop! Hahahaha!
Liadrin turns back to Soridormi and rolls her eyes.
LIADRIN: Boys will be boys.
Soridormi shrugs and nods. Garrosh and Mokvar carry on laughing.
SORIDORMI: Sadly, so will grown men.
LIADRIN: At any rate… I understand that our connection to Edwin is allowing us to retain our awareness of this timeline, but I’m still not sure why these shifts are happening to us.
SORIDORMI: It all comes back to Edwin, in more ways than one.
LIADRIN: His own displacement in time, as Nozdormu was saying, obviously…
GARROSH: Okay, okay, we’re done now. <chortle>
SORIDORMI: That was the start of it, yes. And then, beyond that…this alternate reality was created when your Edwin caused…certain changes in the past.
LIADRIN: Oh no.
GARROSH: What did he do? In his letter he said he remembered everything he did and said, and he would make sure he repeated it all.
SORIDORMI: I have little doubt that he did. And it strikes me as unlikely he even made these changes deliberately, or at least consciously.
GARROSH: Then what did he change?
Soridormi holds out one hand. A small, glowing, blue-tinted image of Patrick Faranell appears above her upturned palm.
IMAGE OF PATRICK: Good news, everyone, I found it! Just what the doctor ordered!
SORIDORMI: I believe you’ve met Edwin’s brother, Professor Patrick Faranell.
LIADRIN: Oh no… I think I know where this is going…
SORIDORMI: In your original timeline, Patrick was killed during the Scourge invasion of Silvermoon. In this reality, however, he never went to Silvermoon. He survived.
GARROSH: That…sounds like a pretty major crapping all over Edwin’s whole “I won’t change history” pledge.
SORIDORMI: I doubt he did it deliberately. Even if he remembered everything he ever said to his brother, repeated it all word for word…don’t underestimate the influence of a simple change of inflection, a tone of voice, a facial expression… Even if he’d read all his lines, knowing what he knew, Edwin could easily have planted the doubts that would steer his brother away from harm.
GARROSH: Seriously. He couldn’t keep himself reined in, knowing how important it was?
SORIDORMI: Garrosh, could you look a loved one in the face, knowing death was upon them, and be completely certain you wouldn’t let a hint of it into your voice?
GARROSH: Okay…fair enough. So, now we have one extra friendly dorky guy wandering around. So what?
SORIDORMI: Had he met his end in Silvermoon, Patrick was fated for…a different path.
Soridormi waves her hand, and the image of Patrick Faranell is replaced by a shimmering image of Professor Putricide.
IMAGE OF PUTRICIDE: Good news, everyone! I think I perfected a plague that will destroy all life on Azeroth!
GARROSH: The hell…
SORIDORMI: Patrick would be risen into undeath, unbeknownst to his brother in Dalaran. The Lich King would take notice of his keen alchemical mind, and install him – in his new identity of “Professor Putricide” – as his chief alchemist and researcher in Icecrown Citadel.
GARROSH: Okay…I’m really starting to worry about why this becomes important…
LIADRIN: Dominoes…
SORIDORMI: With no Putricide in existence, Arthas’ attention in those early days would turn in a different direction…
Soridormi waves her hand again. The image of Professor Putricide flickers out and is replaced by the likeness of Grand Apothecary Putress.
IMAGE OF PUTRESS: Did you think we had forgotten? Did you think we had forgiven?
SORIDORMI: I believe you are both familiar with the work of Grand Apothecary Putress, previously of Sylvanas’ Royal Apothecary Society.
LIADRIN: By the Light…
SORIDORMI: The Lich King chose Putress for the role that would have gone to Putricide – replacing one master alchemist with another, albeit perhaps a more ruthless one.
GARROSH: So, what, did Putress come up with some invention for Arthas, or…?
LIADRIN: Garroh, no… Think…the Wrathgate…
GARROSH: Oh… OH…
MOKVAR: Oh shit…
SORIDORMI: <nodding> With Putress in Icecrown Citadel rather than the Undercity, there was no coup against Sylvanas. There was no betrayal at the Battle of the Wrathgate. Dranosh Saurfang survived, as did Bolvar Fordragon. While the Lich King survived to fight another day, driven back into his fortress, the assault on the Wrathgate was regarded as a great victory – for Alliance and Horde alike. Bolvar would use that success, along with his newfound friendship with Saurfang the Younger, to persuade Varian Wrynn to reconsider his stance on relations with the Horde.
Soridormi waves her hand again. Above her upturned palm, a glowing likeness appears of Thrall and Varian Wrynn shaking hands.
The Alliance and Horde would sign the Dalaran Accords some weeks later. The war between Alliance and Horde was ended.
GARROSH: <sneers at the image> Fuck you, Varian.
MOKVAR: You know that’s not really him, right?
LIADRIN: Peace between the Horde and the Alliance… All those lives spared at the Wrathgate… And…
Liadrin looks down at the Ashbringer in her hands.
SORIDORMI: A number of other rather important events have…played out differently.
GARROSH: Like the fact that with Dranosh still alive, when it came time for Thrall to name an acting Warchief…
Soridormi nods.
And then… Cairne… By the spirits…when Hamuul’s druids were attacked by the Twilight’s Hammer…
MOKVAR: Cairne wasn’t as quick to think Dranosh was responsible, like he was with you? So that means…
GARROSH: There was never a duel. Cairne…never died. I never… He never died.
MOKVAR: This is all…I don’t even know what to call it. But, crazy as it all is…why is this timeline mixing with ours at all?
LIADRIN: Edwin. It’s all about Edwin…
SORIDORMI: <nods> These divergent timelines aren’t uncommon. There are countless events in your history that have produced alternate realities. But what’s different here is your friend. The split in realities was caused by Edwin averting his brother’s death. But it’s also Edwin who’s become unstuck in time. He’s spawned an entire universe in which he does not belong; he’s out of time, and time itself wants him back. It’s pulling him back and forth, and pulling the other reality into ours in the process. Edwin has become a shatter point in time, and the walls between realities are cracking around him. Eventually, the other timeline – the one we’re in now – will bleed through into ours.
LIADRIN: He’ll never even realize any of this is happening, will he? It’ll just happen while he’s off at other points in time.
SORIDORMI: Difficult to say. Though it wouldn’t surprise me if the timelines eventually converge to the point that he begins to remain here with you.
MOKVAR: Still trying to wrap my head around this…
SORIDORMI: It is much to absorb, I know.
MOKVAR: But…what do we do now?
SORIDORMI: Reality will continue to crack around Edwin until the timelines converge and this one, essentially, replaces ours, unless we can return both Edwins to where they belong and restore the original timeline.
LIADRIN: I suspect that won’t be quite as simple as running back through the portal to old Hillsbrad.
SORIDORMI: <shakes her head> Crossing your own timelines will be a dangerous proposition, and one that will take a tremendous focusing of magic. There’s much we’ll need to do here to prepare, and even then, there’s the small matter of getting this Edwin here at a point when he isn’t…elsewhere. Not to mention convincing him of the necessity of going back.
LIADRIN: I suppose we’ll just need to do what we can we can can erif we eht can do ma can i tub can what em semusnoc what taht erif a si ti regit eht ma i tub em hold selgnam taht regit a si ti revir eht the ma i tub gnola em speews taht line revir a si emit edam ma i we hcihw fo we ecnatsbus what we eht what si what emit what what we what we can to get ready.
NOZDORMU: Indeed. Chronormu, go speak with Erozion about a possible return incursion to Hillsbrad.
CHROMIE: Sure thing, captain.
Chromie teleports out. Garrosh, Liadrin, and Mokvar exchange uneasy looks both at each other and at Faranell – who likewise looks around uncomfortably. Soridormi, standing half a step behind Nozdormu, watches them and raises a single finger to her lips.
TIRION: Dr. Faranell? Are you all right? You seem out of sorts suddenly.
FARANELL: Yeah…um…
EITRIGG: It happened again, didn’t it?
NOZDORMU: <narrows his eyes, looking at Faranell grimly> Yes. It would appear so.
Faranell nods and sighs.
LIADRIN: Where were you this time, Edwin?
FARANELL: It was…a large, sprawling city, built into the mountains of a bright, orange-stoned desert. There were…orcs and trolls everywhere… Was… It was Orgrimmar, wasn’t it?
MOKVAR: Sounds like it.
GARROSH: Well, Doc, I don’t know if you were just in your past, but Orgrimmar is definitely in your future. You’re coming back with us, where we can watch out for you while we figure this thing out.
TIRION: A wise choice, mostly likely, my good Warchief. Upon our return to Hearthglen, I will have Daria make arrangements with the good doctor’s family to have whatever effects he might require transported to Orgrimmar.
GARROSH: Good deal. Don’t…um…don’t feel like you need to deliver them personally. Some plain ol’ couriers will do fine.
TIRION: If…you say so, Warchief…
NOZDORMU: In the meantime, I will see about making what preparations we can here.
GARROSH: Yeah. Thanks, Noz.
Nozdormu nods solemnly and walks off.
SORIDORMI: I should go assist Nozdormu. <looks slowly from Garrosh to Liadrin to Mokvar> I suspect I will see you all again, in due time.
We’re back in Orgrimmar now with Faranell. I’m going to have him assigned quarters somewhere he can be comfortable — well, as comfortable as a human can be in a city full of orcs — and we can keep an eye on him at all times. Not sure where we go from here, but I want him close just in case. Right now I’ve got a lot to think about…
More soon.
“Daria’s Pro Tip for Dealing with Tirion #8: Do not wear black mageweave leggings. Ever. Ever.”
Time isn’t holding us
After my latest kablooey-switcheroo, and finding out Mokvar’s been experiencing the same thing, I contacted Tirion to arrange for us to bring Faranell with us to the Caverns of Time. I was originally planning to have someone go pick up Edwin in Hearthglen and bring him back to Orgrimmar, but as it turns out, Tirion is concerned enough about Edwin that he insisted on escorting him to the Caverns of Time himself. Liadrin’s offered to come as well, so she’s going to meet them in Hearthglen before heading to Tanaris.
That works out for another reason: From talking to Liadrin, I found out that she’s also been experiencing these flashes, at least the last couple days. Same thing Mokvar and I have had happening – clear out of the blue, finding ourselves in a different situation with different people doing different things than we’d been doing the minute before. I asked around Orgrimmar, but nobody else seems to know what I’m talking about – not Eitrigg, not Nazgrim, not Spazzle, not anybody. Eitrigg, though…well, when he heard Tirion was coming to meet us at the Caverns of Time, he just up and invited himself along. So yay, fun times.
We arrived earlier today, and no surprise, the conversation was eventful.
SORIDORMI: Greetings once again, Warchief.
GARROSH: Sori. You already know Mokvar here.
Soridormi nods politely to Mokvar.
MOKVAR: Ma’am.
GARROSH: And this is Eitrigg, one of my main advisors. Eitrigg, let me introduce Soridormi, Prime Consort of Nozdormu.
EITRIGG: Lady Soridormi.
SORIDORMI: Of course. I haven’t met you yet. Not at all.
EITRIGG: Um…begging your pardon, m’lady?
GARROSH: Just let it slide, Eitrigg.
MOKVAR: Uh oh. Fog alert.
GARROSH: Try not to let yourself get all bent out of shape when they say cryptic stuff like that. They do it all the ffrreeaakkiinngg ttiimmee aaarrrooouuunnnddd hhheeerrreee, aaannnddd…oooohhhh, hhhheeeerrrreeee wwwweeee ggggoooo.
EITRIGG: Iiiissss aaaannnnyyyyoooonnnneeee eeeellllsssseeee nnnnoooottttiiiicccciiiinnnngggg…?
MOKVAR: Yyyyyoooouuuu ggggeeeetttt uuuusssseeeedddd ttttoooo iiiitttt.
The surrounding smoke thickens, and then, in slow motion, Nozdormu enters comes pimping in.
NOZDORMU: Warchief.
GARROSH: Noz.
EITRIGG: Does…he always do that when he arrives?
MOKVAR: Every. Single. Time.
NOZDORMU: I would say I hope you are all well, Garrosh, but based on your message, I know that’s not the case.
GARROSH: You could say that.
MOKVAR: Do you have any ideas about what this could be?
NOZDORMU: I have my suspicions. But I cannot be certain until…ah, here they come now.
Tirion Fordring enters, accompanying his aide Daria L’Rayne, Lady Liadrin, and, lingering behind them, Edwin Faranell.
GARROSH: Tirion, Liadrin.
MOKVAR: Hey Edwin.
TIRION: Greetings, gentlemen. And of course, Lady Soridormi. And the Timeless One, a great pleasure it is finally to make your acquaintance – truly an honor it is to finally stand in the presence of the being who serves our world as the caretaker of time itself.
NOZDORMU: Yes, I’d heard about you being the one responsible for wasting so very much of it.
TIRION: Timeless One?
NOZDORMU: Never mind.
EITRIGG: Tirion!
TIRION: Ah, Eitrigg, my friend! A pleasure and an honor it is to finally stand face to face with you once again! Too much time, far too many years have elapsed since last we stood in each other’s company.
EITRIGG: It’s good to see you again, my friend.
TIRION: A haggard sight, no doubt, for long-absent eyes in my case, noble orc. The intervening years have not, I suspect, been kind, and I fear the pains of loss and war weigh heavily on my face. But not without the accompanying relief of triumph and great hope, I can assure you!
Nozdormu rolls his eyes and waves one hand in Tirion’s direction.
And you, noble Eitrigg! The years, I must say, have been quite kind. Perhaps the stray wht hr, nd line on yr face – brght on, I cn nly hope by lghtr nd bmng smls, rthr thn strsss nd nxts A hrbngr I wld hp ny trst f a grt lnglfyttcmnflldwthjynd cntntmntagrtmsrfwichIcnnlyhpeImyytstndnrtwtnssfrsthnd.
NOZDORMU: Well, that was slightly less painful.
MOKVAR: Did you just fast-forward him?
GARROSH: Dude, is there any way I could get like a bottle of whatever that shit was? I will seriously pay you whatever you want to charge for it.
NOZDORMU: A bottle of dominion over time? Sorry, not really an option.
GARROSH: Dammit.
MOKVAR: Nice try, boss.
GARROSH: I would fucking POUR that shit on Dontrag and Utvoch.
TIRION: Well now, ladies and gentlemen…
GARROSH: Oh no, here he goes. Queue it up again, Noz.
TIRION: …I suppose it is time we addressed the man of the hour, as it were.
Tirion gestures back toward Faranell, who steps up past Liadrin and Daria. Nozdormu stares at Faranell for a long moment with an increasingly worried look.
NODORMU: Oh…oh, that’s not good…
GARROSH: Oh boy…
FARANELL: What’s wrong?
NOZDORMU: You are. Everything about you…you’re… I’m sorry, my friend, but you’re just wrong. You shouldn’t be.
FARANELL: Um, okay…
LIADRIN: I’d worried that it might be this bad…
GARROSH: Okay, so now that we’ve made him feel like crap, can we maybe find out what’s going on and what we can do about it?
NOZDORMU: He doesn’t belong here, in the simplest possible terms.
FARANELL: Because I’m not from this time…
GARROSH: But when we went back to old Hillsbrad, we weren’t from THAT time either, and WE didn’t start going all wonky.
SORIDORMI: When you travel through the time portals here, you do so under the protection of the Bronze Flight. The enchantments of our portals shield you from any ill effects from temporal displacement.
LIADRIN: So Edwin is unstable now because he came through to a different time without being insulated?
NOZDORMU: It’s not so simple with him.
GARROSH: That was simple?
MOKVAR: I think it’s about to get worse.
NOZDORMU: It’s not merely that Dr. Faranell isn’t supposed to be here in this time. He’s not meant to be anywhere, in any time. This Faranell, as he has been since he was brought to our time, should not exist. He’s been cut off from his own future, and time itself is reacting against it.
LIADRIN: So he’s essentially been pulled out of his own timeline, and now it’s causing him to rubber-band back to random points in that timeline?
NOZDORMU: Unstuck in time, yes.
FARANELL: So when I’ve flashed into events I don’t remember, it’s because those events were part of…well, the other me’s past rather than mine.
LIADRIN: They were the past you were supposed to have.
NOZDORMU: Or, in some cases, the future meant for you.
GARROSH: Wait, you mean a possible future, right? Isn’t it still in flux or something depending on what we do in the present?
NOZDORMU: Warchief, what did you do yesterday?
GARROSH: I…well, I went over some tactical plans with Nazgrim and Drok, took Mortimer for a ride around Durotar…um…played some Earth Online…
NOZDORMU: Was it pre-ordained that you do those things, do you suppose, or did you choose to do them?
GARROSH: Well, I guess I chose to…right?
NOZDORMU: And the fact that you can look back at them now doesn’t make them any less your decision at the time?
LIADRIN: I think I see where you’re going with this…
GARROSH: I…well, no.
NOZDORMU: The future is already written, Warchief. For you, me, everyone. We still write that destiny ourselves. But we already have written it. We simply must live it one page at a time.
LIADRIN: And now Edwin is flipping back and forth in the book.
GARROSH: Okay, so that sort of explains why Doc is skipping around his timeline. I guess. What about what’s been happening with me and Mokvar and Liadrin?
NOZDORMU: That…I’m not as sure of.
LIADRIN: It has to be connected to what’s happening to Edwin.
NOZDORMU: There’s no doubt of that, certainly. Let me check something. Chronormu!
Chromie teleports in next to Nozdormu.
CHROMIE: Hey, gramps, what’s— <notices Faranell> HOLY SHIT, what happened to HIM?!
FARANELL: Cut off from my own future.
LIADRIN: Unstuck in time.
MOKVAR: I’ve got the notes if you want to catch up real quick.
CHROMIE: Wowie wow, you’re a big ol’ timey-whimey mess!
FARANELL: We’re aware, yes.
SORIDORMI: Chromie, when the good doctor became displaced in time, he appears to have to have have dnuob to nori have he dna have elbisreverri si have appears ti esuaceb appears gniyfirret si ti laernu si ti esuaceb gniyfirret hold ton si ynitsed ruo snoitalosnoc the terces era dna noitarepsed fo stca eb ot line raeppa esrevinu lacimonortsa eht yned ot fles eht some yned ot some noisseccus had some laropmet had yned had ot had had some had some residual effect on…
Soridormi pauses a moment and looks around. Garrosh, Liadrin, and Mokvar look around as well, a bit disoriented, finding that everyone save themselves and Soridormi has disappeared.
Ah. There we are, finally. I was hoping to have a window while you were here.
Garrosh, Liadrin, and Mokvar exchange one more round of looks, then turn back to Soridormi.
Now then, why don’t we get down to business.
{TO BE CONTINUED…}
Monday mailbag
You know how this works. Here we go…
I took a bit of a break from Orgrimmar–I was out on my own for a few years and kind of managed to miss the whole “war in Northrend” thing and was honestly a little surprised to see you in charge when I got back. Yeah, I was really out in the boonies and didn’t hear word of anything going on.
Anyway, when I got back and checked out my bank I found a lot of useless junk along with a surprise–two severed night elf heads. I was feeling a little “frisky” in my youth and during one particularly long battle in Alterac Valley, I bagged a few trophies. I made a little pile of most of them and now they’re who knows where, but I still have these two night elf noggins.
My questions to you are:
1) If you had two severed night elf heads, what would you do with them?
2) Why are these things still in pristine condition even though they are at least three years old?
Thanks for your insight,
–Grixar, the grumpy old orc shaman
Hey, Grixar, and welcome back. Hopefully your time away gave you a chance to clear your head and come back ready to curbstomp some humans again. Still…missing the whole war in Northrend? And the fact that I took over as Warchief for Thrall? Really? Where the hell did you GO, man? Did they not have newspapers there? Heralds? Seers? How deep was this cave you went and hid in?
I mean, okay, I guess you wanted some time to get away from it all. Who am I to judge? Oh wait, hang on a second, I’m the FUCKING WARCHIEF, that’s who.
You DID hear that we won up there in Northrend, right? And the Lich King is dead? And Bolvar Fordragon died with him? Oh, and also Deathwing turned up again, which kind of made mess of the place for a while, you may or may not have noticed. Don’t you worry, though, because – in case you missed it – Thrall or Go’el or whatever the fuck he’s calling himself this week, that dude went off with the Earthen Ring and the Dragon Aspects and the Bilgewater goblins at one point (don’t ask) to feed his messianic ego some more – just what he needed, right? – and went all “OMG IM TOTALLY SAVIN ALL TEH WORLDZ HERE GAIZ” but still managed to squeeze in time to get his groove on for once. Did you hear?
Dude, seriously, you’re reading a blog. Pop on a Google news feed every once in a while.
As for your questions…
Question #1: This one is easy. I would swing by Hyjal and give them to our old buddy Antlers McBeardyface. Why? Because what with him being married to Tyrande Whatshername, that would probably be the first night elf head he’s gotten in about 10,000 years. OH YES I SAID IT.
Question #2: This one is a little trickier to wrap your head around, but it’s sort of straightforward when you come right down to it. Basically, Grixar, it goes back to the whole “immortality” thing that the night elves used to have going for them. Short version: the fuckers just don’t decay. Or if they do, it happens really, REALLY slowly. Go ahead, kill a night elf (please!) and stick him in the ground. Then come back ten years later. (Don’t worry, I’ll wait.) (No I won’t. Come back here, you idiot, and stop being so damn literal.) Dig him up again and see if there’s been any change at all to the body. Spoilers: THERE HASN’T.
Fucked up, huh? So much for those night elves being such high-and-mighty tree-hugging nature-lovers, right? Everybody else dies and gets buried and their bodies nourish the land and feed the plants which feed the animals which feed ME, especially if they’re pigs because bacon. But the night elves? They die and go “FUCK YOU, CIRCLE OF LIFE!” – which is not only dickish but also creepy as hell what with them being dead when they say it.
Anyway, yeah, that’s the deal with your collection of night elf heads. By all means, now that you’re back, start adding to it again. And can I recommend some humans? Oh, and gnomes. Don’t forget to kill lots of gnomes. They’re little – you can kill a bunch of them in the middle of the afternoon and you’ll still have plenty of room to kill some more humans at dinnertime.
Gamon’s a quiet guy and all, but a bit touchy. Go tap him on the shoulder in the inn and you’ll see what I mean. Since the Shattered Hand cut him out of their training program and he started fighting back instead of just playing dead for a couple minutes, some folks have been taking advantage of his hair trigger and sending noobs over to “get to know him”, just to watch the inevitable horrible cleavage happen.
What he’s more likely thinking about, though, is when the occasional group of alliance adventurers find their way inside Orgrimmar to start some trouble. It’s like he tunes out in that bar, so sometimes we gotta get him chasing us outside before he notices the alliance and gets to work. Always worth it to for the look on their faces – I mean, the lad swings a mean axe but doesn’t really look all that dangerous.
–Infaris, Orgrimmar
Wait, you wanna see “horrible cleavage”? Swing by Deepholme sometime and go say hi to Therazane. Eeeeeeeeeesh.
Seriously, though, I’m not surprised that Gamon’s got some serious cleaving going for him. He and Saurfang are old drinking buddies, did you know? Well, maybe not OLD old, but going back before I got here, so that still counts as before relevant history, right? Anyhow, doesn’t surprise me that Gamon may have picked up a trick or two.
But also, this business where someone needs to get Gamon’s attention when there are Alliance in Orgrimmar brings up another good point. Seems to me that we need a better invader alert system here. On more than one occasion, an Alliance strike force has hit Orgrimmar, and gotten all the way in to my command room in Grommash Hold without anyone other than my Kor’kron guards knowing they were there. I mean, half the time I’ll be slugging it out with them, and even then nobody’s aware of what’s going on, since I figure it they did, half the damn city would be rushing in to help me fight them off. But nope, not a soul. I’ve got to figure we’re just lacking a system to let the Orgrimmar public at large know “Hey, in case you weren’t aware, there’s like forty Allies in Garrosh’s room.” Not that I need any help with them, really – if anything, it’s kind of funny to watch dozens of Alliance come rushing on in just to get their asses handed to them – but it just seems like the kind of them we should really be on top of more than we seem to be.
I was curious about what your helm size is. My greatmother is an amazing knitter and wants to knit you a helm liner for those chilly trips up to Northrend. She seems to think that because I am in the military that I am close friends with you and is pestering me to ask you this, I am sorry if this offends or annoys you in any way shape or form.
Deepest regards,
–Toka
See, that’s kind of a tough one. I used to be a 9 1/4 back in the day, but then there was that incident in Icecrown Citadel when Tirion wouldn’t SHUT. THE FUCK. UP. So I tried to cover my ears so tight that I wound up squeezing my own head down a few sizes. Best guess I could give you would be…around 7 1/2, maybe? 7 3/4? Not really sure. Also since I didn’t squeeze my head down evenly, I’m working with sort of an irregular helm size, which makes me that much trickier to shop for.
Actually, tell you what. Let me see if Grixar from a couple letters ago can loan me one of those night elf heads. If it’s a decent match, size-wise, I’ll just send it to you and you can pass it on to your greatmother. And hell, if it’s not a decent match, I’ll see what I can do about crunching it down some until it IS. Then your greatmother can have it right there when she’s knitting, which will be extremely handy and NOT THE SLIGHTEST BIT CREEPY AT ALL.
See? Your Warchief is nothing if not an outside-the-box problem-solver.
I am an aspiring soldier of the Horde in Eversong Woods. When I first began adventuring, I started training as a Rogue. I was a little nervous about combat, so I thought it would be helpful to be able to sneak around invisible.
Recently, however, the academy in Silvermoon added a Warrior program to its curriculum. I think this would be a good field to go into. I know I do well at melee combat, and I enjoy dual wielding swords. As a Warrior I could still do these things, plus I could use much better armor and be less squishy. Also I hear that they usually get the Elite Tauren Chieftains to perform at their Spring Fling concert.
I am writing to ask if you would consider writing me a letter of recommendation for my transfer to the Silvermoon Academy. I think a recommendation from a celebrated Warrior like yourself would help my application a great deal. I have enclosed copies of my transcripts and extracurricular records. Please let me know what you think.
Thank you,
–Hannahlee Mihano, Fairbreeze Village
Glad to hear you’ve come to your senses, Hannahlee, and decided to stop sneaking around like a little girl and start cleaving your foes into pieces like a man. Except for how I guess you actually are a girl. But whatever. Point is, warrior is definitely the way to go, and as a matter of fact, let me tell you the one thing I do know about rogues, which you’ll learn for yourself once you get the hang of warrioring: they are delicious.
I don’t know what kind of operation they’ve got going on up there in Silvermoon, especially seeing whatever “instructors” they’ve got in the warrior program would only have been warriors themselves for, what, like a year or something. But whatever. I looked over your materials and you look like you’d be a decent enough candidate, other than how you obviously mailed it in that one semester (seriously, a C+ in Survey of Thelassian Music?). So I’ve gone ahead and sent a letter along for you. Here, have a copy for yourself:
Dear elf school,
Some blood elf named Hannahlee wrote to me and asked me to recommend her for warrior training at your school. To be totally frank, I’ve never met her or talked to her before in my life, so I know pretty much nothing about her and have no idea if she’s any good as a fighter or anything. Then again I also know nothing whatsoever about your school and what you do there, so sounds like a match to me. So in my professional capacity as somebody who knows a thing or two about warriors – and also, by the way, I’m Warchief of the Horde, which kind of makes me your boss on top of it all – I’m recommending her for admission. Mainly because she wrote to me out of the blue and asked me to. At least she was nice about it. Come to think of it, though, she didn’t actually say “please,” so maybe you could teach her some fucking manners while she’s there.
Indifferently yours,
Garrosh Hellscream
There, that should take care of that. On the off chance this doesn’t work out for you, Hannahlee, I think there’s also a school over in Brill, so I could put in a good word for you with Sylvanas if you want.
A friend of mine just linked me to your blog and I read through all the archives (took a while LOL) and OMG! You play Earth Online?! Me too! I looked you up in the Directory and I see we’re on different servers. 🙁 I was totally bummed. Maybe I’ll transfer so I can play with you guys!
I’m so excited because I finally managed to get enough rep with the Humane Society so I could get a cat pet! I’ve wanted one for so long! We have a lot of cats here in the Sunspire but they don’t really belong to anyone they just sorta hang out here but they’re so cute and fun to watch while they play and hunt and stuff. They sure make the day go by a lot faster. We’re kinda in the middle of nowhere so I’m not the busiest merchant ever LOL. Anyway now I can have a cat to keep me company in game just like the real cats keep me company in real life.
I’m sending you a picture of him! Isn’t he the cutest thing ever? Do you have any in-game pets yet? I bet you have a cat too because you like wyverns and wyverns are kinda like cats crossed with bats and scorpids or something. LOL
Come visit me next time you’re in Silvermoon! I’ll give you some Honey Bread on the house. 😉
–Shara Sunwing.
Well, Shara, I…wait a minute. This thing with the honey bread, is this actual literal honey bread we’re talking about, or is it some kind of euphemism? Because in that case, hoo boy, here we go again.
Okay, moving on.
Yeah, um, it’s a real tragedy we’re on different servers. Oh well, that’s the way it goes sometimes. I do remember the Humane Society grind, though – kind of long and annoying, but not nearly as bad as the Hipster Collective. Have you done THAT rep grind? It’s infuriating. There’s this bizarre diminishing returns system in place where if too many other people are doing the same dailies that you’re on, you get this debuff called “Mainstream” and the quests give you way way less rep. Every once in a while you can get some extra rep for some totally random obscure thing you do, usually something that nobody in their right mind would think to do, but that doesn’t nearly offset the nuisance of constantly having to find quests that not many other people are working on. There isn’t even any real benefit to getting rep with the Hipsters, just an achievement that people try to get just for the sake of getting it. Fucking Hipsters.
Anyway, though, I did work up my rep with the Humane Society and got one of the pets. In my case, though, I didn’t get a cat. I decided to pick up one of the quests that open up at exalted to get a dog. And since we’re sharing screenshots from the game, what the hell, here’s mine:
So there you go. His name is Sawyer and I think he’s some variety of dog called a “terrier.” Plenty entertaining, too – if I have him out with me outdoors, he’ll stare down other animals way bigger than him and send them running. Badass little fucker. Kind of fitting for my companion pet, right?
Which gets me thinking…I know a lot of my readers also play Earth Online – hell, people are constantly bringing it up in blog comments and on Twitter. So, how about this – for my next mailbag, why don’t you Earth Online pet collectors write in and share a screenshot of YOUR pets, too. Might be kinda cool to see what all is out there. Maybe some of you guys have some cool obscure ones that not everyone even knows about. Probably got bonus rep from the Hipsters for getting it, too. Fucking Hipsters.
So anyhow, Shara, one last thing before I forget – since you’ve finished reading the archives of the blog, here, let me give you something else to fill up your online reading time: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Run-on_sentence. You’re welcome.
That does it for this time. As always, keep those letters and questions coming to garrosh1337@gmail.com, and for next time, if you’re an Earth Online player with a cool companion pet, like I said, write in and let us know, and in the next mailbag I’ll post a big ol’ gallery o’ digital animals. YOUR WARCHIEF HAS SPOKEN.
