Tag Archives: trainees
Count Your Blessings
Okay, so, while I was brainstorming ideas for this last installment of EPIC VERSE, I put a call out on Twitter for suggestions, and you people stepped up with a bunch of options…
And I figured, why the fuck not, let’s just DO THEM ALL. IN ONE POEM.
Here we go. STRAP IN, BITCHES.
Last time around, we got started with promise
Then fizzled out. You were here, though. You saw this.
But now I’m giving it just one more trial,
Recounting things that make your Warchief smile.
You might be skeptical there’s such a list;
Maybe your guess is that I’m always pissed.
Yeah, well, try spending a year with this crew —
Your long fuse will become much shorter, too.
Anyway, never mind. Yeah, fuck that noise.
We won’t be dwelling on shit that annoys.
Forget about all that, and in its place
Let’s look at what brings a smile to my face.
Wyverns are awesome, dude, there’s no discounting.
None moreso than the one I’m epic-mounting.
Mortimer brings chimaeras to their knees;
So badass even the druid agrees.
After a wyvern ride, back home to quaff a
Giant-sized tankard of Pandaren kafa.
Say what you want, but those pandas are keen
When it comes time to deliver caffeine.
And while the kafa’s hot, Kor’kron chef’s makin’
Forty-three pounds of thick-cut hellboar bacon.
After all that, appetite’s undiminished;
While there are boars still left, breakfast ain’t finished.
Google more “Garrosh likes“ and the result is
Dead humans, dead gnomes, and dead Twilight cultists.
Also dead Grimtotem, Magatha’s kin;
Call me when she’s caught and torture begins.
You know I love when a plan comes together.
(It rarely does with these goons, but whatever.)
Rarer still from the minions I’ve collected:
When my authority’s actually respected.
Now, with my trainees, their loyalty’s ample;
I wish more grown-ups followed their example.
Good thing this training gig’s plenty rewarding —
Easy’s to teaching as brief is to Fordring.
DPS kids are heroes on the rise.
(Gurtash needs work, but at least, hey, he tries.)
Lethal from day one; this much, let’s agree on:
Nobody’s missing a bunch of dead peons.
Ruekie tries hard even when things go south,
Effortlessly puts her foot in her mouth.
Already haste-buffed; one day she’ll go mental
Summoning her own kafa elemental.
Korrina’s deadly when she gets attacked;
Bane to the lizards — now that’s a #SaurFact.
Snapping off Ruekie’s fork just to eat noodles
(Captured forever in Gurtash’s doodles).
Gurtash was first of them I brought on board.
Draws comics better than he draws his sword.
Kid’s got to work on becoming more skilled.
He’ll toughen up (if he doesn’t get killed…).
Giska’s kung fu punches make your face swell up;
Kulkesh is… let’s face it… underdeveloped.
They’ll have more missions, they’ll win with panache
(So long as they don’t end up like Lok’osh).
Let’s send the kids home; this part’s not PG.
’Cause you know hashtag-TheLadiesLoveMe.
Trust me, the fact that my minions are noobs
Ain’t the lone way I’m surrounded by boobs.
You’ve seen my mailbags and Twitter replies;
Tip of the iceberg, between you and I.
They flock to Orgrimmar at my behest,
Putting the groupie in epic group quest.
That’s me, inspiring a fawning persona —
Uukra and Wega, Zaela and Garona.
Rak and Aranya, Thalassian Brandi,
One thing in common: /waggle gets them randy.
One shirtless /flex and they’re looking for action;
Gathering round, irregardless of faction.
So, who to pick when I’m looking for love?
Maybe I’ll go with D) All the above.
But even while a near harem is swirling,
There’s one girl from whom I want no fangirling:
Normally I might be lewd, even sleazy,
But that Sylvanas just makes me uneasy.
Even when mannered, she always seems dicey;
Hot on the outside, sure; inside, she’s icy.
At least one fish in the sea I’d throw back;
LadiesLoveGarrosh — he don’t love ’em all back.
EPIC VERSE!
[That does it for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge for this time around! Just a reminder, I’ll be taking a short break for the next couple of weeks due to hectic real-life goings-on, but after that, we’ll be back again with a weekly Wednesday installment, starting May 20!]
Monday GUEST mailbag: Shayari
Hi again, everyone. It’s yours truly, Shayari, filling in for Pops for one of his mailbag thingies. I’m not sure how he talked me into doing this again, to be honest. I think he caught me while I was paying attention to something else, then got a “yeah, uh huh” from me before I realized what he was asking. To be fair, I got him for a couple shopping trips the same way. Before he got wise, anyway. Oh well.
So ol’ Garry wanted me to mind the fort letter-answering-wise, since apparently he’s going to be pretty busy in Pandaria, and I guess so many people write in for this that he didn’t feel like it could just wait. Which I totally don’t get. Do that many people actually read this thing? I can’t imagine it could be more than, like, a dozen. Two dozen tops.
But, hey, a promise is a promise, so here we go.
My goodness, it’s been rather a long time since I had the luxury of being able to converse with you! Certainly not without the eager interruptions of friends and family. Not that I can complain, of course. I love conversation! And if anything, I have Korrina to thank for letting me know that YOU were taking over the next mailbag. I’d completely forgotten to go through your dad’s last mailbag. All this travelling has left me too exhausted to even read! Then again, it’s often worth it when you visit all these fabulous ethnic places and meet all kinds of bizarre new people. I wonder if you’ve ever heard of this gnome called Brazie Getz? His entire marketing campaign is on Deathbringer’s Rise in Icecrown. He’s a weird, weird guy. Don’t ever talk to him.
Anywho, I think I’d better rush to the point. I’m still travelling, of course – matter of fact, the only place I haven’t been to visit yet is Pandaria, so that’s likely next on my list! – and I found myself growing more and more curious with regards to the mailboxes of Azeroth. That is, every time I dropped a letter into a mailbox, it simply vanished! And would you believe it or not, but half the time, the correspondent’s response would appear before me a mere five minutes later.
I’m only assuming that this is a rather common stretch of magic, but as I’m not a mage, I don’t know how it works. So I ask you, Shayari, do you know what school of magic is responsible for this faster-than-Light-itself speed of delivery of mail in these boxes?
Take care, and be well!
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade
Oh… uh, hey, Sarlin. Nice to… hear from you again. So… Korrina told you I was fielding letters for this mailbag? I’ll, uh… I’ll have to… thank her for that. Maybe thank her repeatedly. Over a span of several slow, torturous thankful days.
Or, well, I would, if I knew which one she was. She’s one of Pip’s friends, right? The ones who are always running around in the garish hand-me-down gear? She’s not the one that’s always putting her foot in her mouth, is she?
Either way… well… here you are. At least you toned it down a little this time around, though. Or… well, wait, you did tone it down, right? I’m not just missing a few pages? Because if I am, I mean, don’t feel like you need to correct that and send me a new copy or anything. You know, I’m already answering the letter now, so it’s not like there’s anything to gain at this point. Water under the bridge. That I should probably burn before it’s too late.
But, hey, speaking of sending things through the mail, that’s a question I can actually answer! You’re totally right, Sarlin — those mailboxes do use magic to make their insta-deliveries. Well, most of them do. There are still places that use old-timey mailboxes, where somebody has to go around and physically pick up the letters and stuff, but there are only a few of those left. So the magic they use for those things is arcane. The way it works — this is actually pretty weird but cool — is that all those mailboxes are sort of permanent mini-portals. You drop something in the mailbox, and poof! it goes through the portal and pops into the sorting room at the central post office. Which… well, I don’t exactly know where that is, or who runs it, although whoever it is they must have a massively fun life considering how they seem like they’re constantly on the job. But then they sort through the letters, or packages, or whatever, and send them back through another mini-portal, and double poof! they pop back out to whatever other mailbox you need to use to pick the delivery up. Pretty neat, huh?
I meant that last question rhetorically, by the way. No need to write back again, Sarlin. I mean, I figure you’re already busy enough doing whatever it is that you do. (Spirits help me, why am I talking about this like I’m going to be getting these again? Focus, Shay, focus!)
Are you still taking mage lessons from our dear Mr Faranell? I am curious, what is he like as a teacher? Have you smoothed things over with him after, well, you know?
–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City
Well for one thing, let me tell you, you won’t win any points with Eddie by calling him “Mr. Faranell.” He likes that even less than he likes me calling him Eddie. I’ve seen it. One of those Kor’kron guys called him that and he got all pissy about it, “I didn’t spend a zillion years in mad scientist school or whatever so you could call me ‘mister,’ ” blah blah. Then he turned the Kor’kron guy into a sewer rat. Granted, it was just a polymorph variation. Fun fact, by the way: it turns out that being swallowed whole by a giant spider doesn’t break the polymorph. Who knew?
But yeah, I’m still working on my magic with Eddie. Pops had me stay in Orgrimmar while he’s in Pandaria so I can keep up with my apprenticeship. I’d like to see Pandaria at some point, though. I’ve heard it’s beautiful there. Pops promised I’ll get to see it eventually, so I guess we’ll see.
Anyhow, Eddie’s fine as a teacher, I guess. He’s definitely really smart. He’s just very… dry. I mean personality dry. It makes him hard to read sometimes. Like for instance, I’ll cast a spell, and he’ll say it went well, only because it’s him I’m never sure if I really did a good job or if I screwed it up and he’s being ironic. So, I don’t know, it’s been okay?
Hello Shayari! My name is Clarise! I mean, my full name is Ceresella-Sareyn Sunbow but that’s like way long, and kind of a tongue twister, so I’ve shortened it to Clarise, although my sister thinks that’s a little common. Whatever. I think it’s totes adorbs. Anyways. HEY! I’m a mage apprentice too! Would you look at that, we have mutual interests! YAY! But you’re probably like waaaaay better at the kapowing than I am. I’m fourteen so I’m pretty amateur-ish at this whole pew-pew business. I can’t even polymorph properly yet! Like, I tried it once (on some idiot that was yammering on about how fire was the superior style of magic and arcane would rightfully bow at its feet one day and I just got so annoyed so POOF! Sheep he was) and it sort of lasted for about three hours. OOPS!
Anyway, so, I heard you study in the Undercity. I heard this really cool story from my sister once about there being somebody who does facials and haircuts there. Have you ever got one there? I bet they do AWESOME facials. I bet they use really frothy soap and stuff and warm water that almost feels like you’re being bathed in the physical form of perfection. Do the Forsaken have a nice sense of fashion? I like bright colours best. I specially like bright red and gold. Although leather’s pretty hip, too. Leather jackets with pink-dyed fur hoods? I would literally sell my little soul for one of those.
Coffee! Is there coffee in the Undercity!? Please tell me there’s coffee! There has to be! I would literally DIE in a place where there was no coffee. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine waking up for three hours of study in a boring room that’s way hot so it only makes you sleepier without a cup of coffee? I would just die. How many cups of coffee do you have a day? I don’t count but I think this is my twelfth. Now, that IS the physical form of perfection. In a cup!
Anyways, big fan! Can’t believe your dad responded to my first letter! MEGA FLAIL!
Ciao!
–Clarise Sunbow, Kirin Tor
So first of all, what the hell is a “ciao”? It had better not be some cool new expression that I’m behind the curve on, because you know how that goes. You start losing track of new and current expressions, then you start walking around wearing last season’s clothes, and then the next thing you know you’re thirty and it’s a quick downhill slide into sadness. Obviously, I can’t let that happen.
Oh, who am I kidding? We all know I’m not going to be out of the loop on anything cool. I am the loop on anything cool. This Clarise girl’s just talking the crazy talk.
So anyway, hi Clarise. You seem kind of weird, but you say you’re a fan of mine, so I guess you have that going for you. Wait, I have fans? Score! Eh, what am I saying? It figures I would have fans if Pops has been talking about me here on his blog. Wait, has he been talking about me here? What’s he been saying? Do I need to start working damage control?
So, um, yeah… hi, Clarise! It’s nice to hear from another mage, at least one who’s alive and not decomposing or anything. Or mordantly derisive toward everything in sight for no apparent reason. I haven’t had the chance to meet too many since the whole Jaina-schizo-Dalaran-be-gone thing. Used to hang out with nothing but mages, though. Not so much now. Seems like half the people I know are warriors. Or shamans. And I can hardly take three steps without tripping over a rogue. Which is weird considering you would think their whole deal is not being tripped over what with the sneaky. Anyway, Clarise, it’s nice to hear from another non-corpse magic user, and I’ll even let your whole arcane/fire thing slide, even though I’m a fire mage myself. You’ll come to your senses eventually. You’re right, though, polymorph is way cool.
The Undercity is… different. Not even… well, I was going to say not bad different, but… I mean, kind of yeah. I get the definite sense you’ve never actually been there. You’d probably find it, um, surprising. Probably not your cup of tea if you like bright colors. They don’t really have any. Well, other than the bright green glowing slime that’s… well… pretty much everywhere. So there’s that, at least. Otherwise, though, you’re pretty much looking at drab lifeless gray and drab lifeless purple and loads and loads of black. You wouldn’t think there could be different shades of black, right? Well you would be wrong! Don’t ask me how, but the Forsaken manage to have more shades of black than they have primary colors. Like you look around their stores and wonder “How much more black could there be?” and the answer is “None, none more black.” So I’m not sure the Undercity would really be your style.
And… I’m not even going to go near the thing about the facials. I’m pretty sure your sister was just trolling you. I mean, I suppose it’s possible that the Forsaken have salons there (would they need to get their hair cut, though? does your hair actually grow when you’re a dead person?), but I can’t imagine they’d be worried about cleansing pores nearly as much as necrosis and maggots. And if, you know, ew, I agree with you.
I got a question for ya! If da Lich King’s horse be Invincible, how come I be seein’ it, mon?
–Bob, Shado-pan Monastery
I don’t know, Bobby, I guess lack of sex causes enhanced eyesight? So, you know, keep up the good work with the total physical and personal unattractiveness — you’ll be rocking the full-on x-ray vision in no time!
Here’s an #EpicVerse prompt for you.
“There was a Draenei named Shayari,”
Go, go, go!
–Valinora Lightshorn, Stormwind City
So… I’m really not sure what to make of this. I mean, I get that the “epic verse” thing is a reference to the weird poetry Pops likes to write, and how he can’t just call it “poetry” like a normal person, but has to play it up with the whole “epic verse!” thing. Which, by the way, he literally yells out loud when he finishes writing one. He’ll be sitting there working on something, and I’m not even paying attention to what he’s doing because whatever, and then all of a sudden he slams his quill down on the desk and yells “epic verse!” at like nine thousand decibels. Which is pretty startling, really. Also kind of weird, since he does it every time he thinks he’s finished. And he’ll go back and revise one line, and slam his quill down again, and yell “epic verse!” again… and then he’ll look back at it and change one word again and go through the whole slammy yelly thing again. He’s so weird, I can’t even.
So I get what the #EpicVerse part of your letter is talking about, but… I’m not sure what you’re looking for. Is this some kind of running thing in Pops’ blog? Actually, hang on, I’m going to check with greeny goblin nerd guy about this.
Hold tight!
…
Oh, okay. So the gob-geek guy, Spackle or whatever, says that apparently you have this ongoing thing in Pops’ mailbags, where you send him an opening line for one of his poems and then he writes the rest? Is that a thing? Does he do that? So wait, does that mean you’ve been partly responsible for all the yelling at his desk and the startling and stuff? It really scares my bird when he does that, I’ll have you know.
Only, see, here’s the thing. Garrosh is really the poet in the family. And boy, I bet there are tons of people who never thought they’d read that sentence, huh? But the point is that I’ve never been much of a writer, so maybe you should just stick to hitting Pops with these poetry requests, since I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything all that good, mostly probably because the whole thing seems kind of weird.
Except I guess Pops will end up seeing this when he gets back from Pandaria (I mean he DOES read this stuff that me and Spackle and whoever else writes on here, right? and by the way, Pops, nice job outsourcing your own hobby, I mean could you be any more lazy? come on), and I guess if he sees me admitting I wouldn’t be good at doing something he thinks he’s good at, there’ll be no living with him. I mean have you seen him? There’s almost no living with him now. I don’t even want to think about how out of control his ego will be in a couple weeks if I go ahead and feed it. So okay, let me try this, but I’m not making any promises.
There was a Draenei named Shayari,
Actually half Kurenai, half Mag’hari,
Who lived in Nagrand where it’s starry,
And went on a wildlife safari,
While Pops is busy in Pandari
-a.
And maybe something about the Sha’tari,
And had calamari and Londo Mollari,
and okay I don’t think this is going anywhere. I’m just making up words at this point. Oh well. I tried.
Do you play Earth Online? What class do you play? If you don’t play do you think you might give it a try some day?
–Greztah, Earthen Ring
So, okay, first of all, no. I keep getting asked this, so no, no, no. I’m not interested in getting into your weird virtual reality game. I don’t need my reality to be virtual. Reality reality is working out just fine for me.
And also, what is it with you guys and this game? It’s bad enough I had to find out Pops is a closet nerd with this game of his. But it seems like half the jokers around here play it, too. Fel, when I went to ask that Spackle guy about the poetry thing a minute ago, even he tried making a sales pitch on me, like for some kind of referral thing. I guess if he got me to sign up he could have gotten some kind of… I don’t even know what. A make-believe vehicle in the game that he would have to buy with real money otherwise? Is that something they make you do in this game? Fork over real money to buy make-believe things? Because if so…
Okay, people, let’s have some real talk here.
Because, look, speaking as someone who takes her shopping seriously… shopping with real money for imaginary stuff? That’s crazy talk. If I’m going to buy something, I’m for sure going to walk out of that store carrying something with actual physical substance to it. Otherwise, they’re not getting my money. Well, technically, they wouldn’t be getting my money, they’d be getting Pops’ money. But you get the idea.
The point is, are you people nuts?
So I guess that’s about as good a note as any to end on. Especially since that was the last letter. I’m not sure how much longer Garry is going to need before he’s back to doing this himself, but I think I might just pass it off to that Spackle guy if Pops needs things covered for a while more. Not that I don’t like hearing from everyone. Just that I have kind of a yearly weirdness quota, and just plain day-to-day life fills up that bar pretty quick as it is.
Bye!
[And so we’re back! As I announced before the break, our next mailbag will be Monday, September 5. I’m making one revision to the plan, though: rather than that installment being Garrosh’s return to mailbag duties, we’ve going to have one more guest mailbag — this time, from everyone’s favorite goblin tech guru, Spazzle! This is essentially me heading my bets — the Warchief is going to have a lot going on at Kypari Zar, which will involve a lot drawing that I’ll need to get done over several posts, so I wanted to make sure I’ll have time to get all that done without Garrosh seemingly having to stop in the middle of it to answer his mail. Plus, I’ve wanted to do a Spazzle mailbag for a while! (Who knows, maybe Mokvar will get one one day, too…) Garrosh will be back answering his accumulated mail for October’s mailbag (October 3, for those of you keeping score at home). As always, send your letters via email (link in the upper right sidebar) or using the form below.]
Aptitude test
Since we’ve been back in Pandaria, the trainees have been putting in a fair amount of time with Shokia while I’ve been busy. At first, Shademaster Kiryn was helping take the kids on patrols, but she wasn’t exactly enthused about working with them. I guess she isn’t a people person like I am. Shokia, on the other hand, was all in. She volunteered to take them out more. Nothing major, mind you. Patrols, scouting trips, assorted odd jobs in the neighborhood of the base. Nothing you’d call heavy lifting. Just enough to keep the kids in practice and let them flex their muscles a little.
She gets it. Shokia remembers where her duty lies. Her real duty, not just her job description. She understands serving the Horde isn’t just what you do while you’re punching the clock. It’s what you ARE. She looks at those kids and she doesn’t just see the kids. She sees her mother and her grandfather and the next ten generations of orcs that’ll come after them. It’s the dedication you see in the truest orcs there are. Shokia and Nazgrim. Fallen like Bloodhilt and Krimpatul. It’s not about the job. It’s about the whole line. Not work. Duty.
Shokia’s been giving me quick reports now and again on the trainees. Mostly she’s just been confirming what I’ve already seen from them. Korrina’s high ceiling but tendency to be reckless. Giska’s contrasting discipline. Kulkesh’s nose-to-the-grindstone work ethic. All of them coming along.
The commentary that’s been sticking out, though has been Shokia’s take on Gurtash. She’s noted the same hesitance and awkwardness I’ve been seeing from him in combat. But she’s been more struck by his… I forget how she put it… his sense of space, I suppose. And while the kid’s always had a pretty good eye, Shokia thinks that he’s got particularly good aim on his Heroic Throws — so much so that she’s wondering if he might actually be better suited to fighting at range. So the end result is that she’d like permission to try giving Gurtash a really basic intro hunter lesson, and see if he takes to it.
I’ve got mixed feelings about the idea, to be honest. I mean, Gurtash already has a foot in the door — admittedly, a clumsy, awkward foot — to the bottomless pit of awesome that is being a warrior. Which he’s SAID he’s wanted to be ever since he wrote me that very first mailbag letter forever ago. And yeah, he might have an easier time as a hunter, but… I mean… from what I hear people saying about “huntards,” it sounds like that’s maybe the point. Mind you, I don’t know, so don’t all you huntards– erm, hunters — go getting your panties all in a bunch. This is just what I’m told.
On the other hand, facts are facts — the kid’s been having a rough go of it as a warrior so far. And maybe his skills DO translate better to a crossbow, or a… slingshot… or a… fucking explosive frisbee… DON’T GIVE ME A LOOK, I don’t know what the fuck they use. THEY JUST SPENT LIKE FIVE YEARS TELLING US EVERYTHING IS A HUNTER WEAPON, okay? It’s their OWN DAMN FAULT nobody knows what they actually fucking use. Also BESIDE THE POINT, because the ACTUAL point is that the goddamn hunters could use a little handheld catapult that throws frogs suffering from severe flatulence at you for all I care, because early returns on the kid say the fight-with-an-axe thing maybe ain’t happening. Or maybe it still is. I don’t know. Work in progress.
Anyhow, it’s only an intro lesson, I suppose. Nothing really binding. We can see how the kid does and go from there.
More soon.
Return engagement
We just arrived back in Pandaria. Finally. Granted, we couldn’t get here without a heaping pile of stupid washing up on deck during the trip, because, you know, IT’S US, but whatever. At least we got some decent seafood out of the deal. Plus the Wonder Twins are on notice that I’ll put them on patrol IN THE OCEAN around the base if they get on my nerves too much, and when I say that, it’s not just talk. AS IF THERE SHOULD BE ANY DOUBT TO BEGIN WITH.
General Nazgrim has been holding down the fort at Domination Point while I’ve been away, and, you know, since it’s pretty hard to crash a FORT into anything, everything seems to have gone fairly well. Well, unless you count the asshattery with the genius maneuver Nazgrim and some of his people tried pulling up at the Isle of Giants, but I’ll deal with that soon enough. The less we talk about that, the better. Mainly because the less we talk about it, the less I’m reminded of the crashing stupidity of a depressing percentage of my minions, and the less I’m reminded of that, the less I’m going to feel the urge to drive an Unnecessary Ornamental Spike™ through my skull.
Hey, look, 200 gold is 200 gold. You fuckers have to stop clutching your damn pearls over this. COMMERCE, MOTHERFUCKERS.
While we were away, Elder Cloudfall — you know, the old (hence “Elder,” DUH) panda dude who’s been varying degrees of helpful with the cryptic — took off back to his monastery. (I mean, anybody who thought he was just going to sit around Domination Point all that time NOT stuffing his face on familiar panda fare, take a step forward. Then take another step forward. Then keep taking steps forward until you walk into something sharp.) (MIGHT I RECOMMEND AN UNNECESSARY ORNAMENTAL SPIKE™?)
Cloudfall’s crazy-ass monkey friend Zhi-Zhi, though, decided to stick around the base. I guess he knew Tak-Tak or something (no, not Tak — Tak-Tak, and FUCKING HELL don’t make me go through THAT annoying shitpile again), so he figured he felt well enough at home to save himself the trip back to Tian Monastery and just stayed around the base helping out with odd jobs. I mean, I guess he couldn’t be any worse than some of the OTHER jokers I have on payroll.
Actually, is HE on payroll now? Is Nazgrim actually cutting a check to that fucker? How much? What’s the going rate for monkey labor? Can we pay him in bananas or some shit? I need to know these things.
It’s going to take a few days for me to get fully updated from Nazgrim, Blood Guard Gro’tash, the rest of the command and support staff here. Plus I need to get Mokvar acclimated to the place, seeing as he’s new to Pandaria. Also Brolic, a blademaster Lantresor recommended as an addition to my personal guard. He seems like he’ll be a valuable addition, but since he’s still new, I’d just as soon not assign him right off to work with the trainees the way the last batch of blademasters — Burzum, Ishi, and Krimpatul — did when they were here. For the time being, I’m having the DPS kids join Marksman Shokia and Shademaster Kiryn when they go out on patrol. Fairly controlled situation, watchful eye of two of our better operatives down here, plus it’ll give the kids a chance to get some input from kind of a different perspective, seeing as Shokia is a hunter and Kiryn is a rogue. Neither of which is as awesome or glorious as being a warrior, granted, but, hey. More exposure is better than less exposure.
I mean, in terms of training. Not if you’re talking about, say, an ogre and a platekini. In that case, cover that shit up, dammit. People want to eat lunch sometime this week.
More soon.
From Hellscream’s heart, I stab at thee
So in case any of you were wondering after that last bonus poem the other day, YES, I got sick of Dontrag and Utvoch’s stupid yammering, and YES, I chucked their damn asses overboard, and YES, I’m making them swim the rest of the goddamn way to Pandaria. And before you get your damn bleeding hearts all bloody over them, don’t worry, we’re not just taking off and leaving them — we haven’t been making the best time to begin with, and trust me, the FEAR of getting left behind has kept them swimming at a nice brisk pace.
Now I can already hear your NEXT crybaby objection: “But Garrosh, you’ve been at sea for days, how can they sleep? Alas, wah wah, boo hoo, there’s sand in my hoo-ha.” Well first of all, thank you for taking an interest, Lor’themar, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you on this trip. Second of all, yes, for fuck’s sake, they get to sleep. I’m not a damn monster. The first thing I did after I chucked the idiot brigade overboard… well, hold up, let me be honest. It wasn’t the FIRST thing I did. First I had a good long laugh and took a few hours to savor the sweet, sweet quiet. So, okay, the NEXT thing I did AFTER that was toss a raft and some rope down to Dumber and Dumber Still. So, see? One of them can get on the raft and sleep while the other one pulls him along behind him. Just like a kodo pulling a wagon. Only without the kodo having to pull the wagon through ocean water or do it while wearing heavy plate armor. And also kodos are at least 67% smarter. BUT THE POINT STANDS. They both get to have their goddamn shut-eye. They just have to take turns or draw straws or whatever. So that’s covered.
Meanwhile, since we still have some time to kill before we arrive, that gives me a chance to go over business with the major players we’ve got on hand.
Garrosh, Captain Drok, Mokvar, and Malkorok stand near the stern of the ship, looking out over the sea.
GARROSH: So somebody remind me, weren’t we already supposed to be in Pandaria by this point?
MALKOROK: I do recall the last trip going faster, yes sir.
DROK: It can’t be helped, Warchief. We hit a windless patch the second day that slowed us down. Still waters. Not much to be done about it.
GARROSH: Can’t we go faster now to make up for it?
DONTRAG: <shouting from the waters just off the stern> No, sir! Not faster!
GARROSH: I THINK YOU TWO PINHEADS HAVE BETTER USES FOR YOUR BREATH THAN BITCHING AND MOANING!
UTVOCH: <also shouting from overboard> But sir!
DONTRAG: <overboard> Dammit, Ut, zip it before he starts throwing stuff again!
UTVOCH: <overboard> But my arms are getting tired!
GARROSH: HEY, jackasses — my EARS are getting tired!
UTVOCH: <overboard> Sorry sir…
GARROSH: <turning back to Drok> You’re sure you can’t pick up the pace a little?
MOKVAR: I’m a little confused, actually. Why are we taking a boat, rather than using a mage portal?
GARROSH: Oh, geez, THAT whole shit show…
MALKOROK: You had to remind him of this, didn’t you, scribe…
MOKVAR: Huh? What am I missing?
GARROSH: Yeah, so, we COULD use a mage portal, except for the fact that the mages who came back to Orgrimmar with us all managed to forget to train the damn Shrine portal before they left.
MOKVAR: I… oh.
GARROSH: Yeah, And I guess maybe some of Lor’the’whatever’s magisters might have gotten it, but they’re all camped out on that thunder place and Ponytail hasn’t been returning my messages.
While the others are talking, Giska and Korrina appear nearby and approach the side of the ship, carrying fishing poles.
GISKA: You never learned this at all?
KORRINA: No, never got around to training it.
GARROSH: <calling over from nearby> Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around.
KORRINA: Uh, yes, Captain.
GISKA: Of course, sir.
KORRINA: <aside> Do you know what he’s talking about?
GISKA: <aside> No, but that isn’t uncommon. I usually find keeping quiet and nodding attentively goes a long way, though.
KORRINA: Huh. Good tip.
GISKA: It helps a lot.
KORRINA: So how does this work?
GISKA: Well, first you need to bait your hook…
Giska opens a tackle box and takes out a brightly-colored lure.
So you take one of these and attach it…
Giska hands Korrina another lure and attached her own to her hook.
Like this, see?
KORRINA: Like this?
GISKA: Try to get it— right, there, like that.
KORRINA: <looking at her lure quizzically> The fish are actually fooled by these?
GISKA: Apparently.
KORRINA: Isn’t fish supposed to be brain food? Seems weird they’d be that stupid.
Giska shrugs.
GISKA: Okay, so now, when you’re ready to cast, you wind up like this, then…
Giska casts off the side of the ship; Korrina does as well, a little more awkwardly.
KORRINA: Okay… so what do we do now?
GISKA: We wait.
KORRINA: Oh.
Korrina looks around.
For how long?
GISKA: For as long as it takes for a fish to bite.
KORRINA: Huh.
Korrina looks overboard at her bobber.
Well geez, these fish better hurry up…
UTVOCH: <overboard> Oh hey, there’s like a shrimp or something here! I bet it tastes — aaahh! The shrimp is defending itself somehow!
Giska looks around awkwardly as her fishing line goes taut.
GISKA: Um…
KORRINA: Yeah, definitely not brain food.
DONTRAG: <overboard> Dammit, Ut, stop thrashing around so much!
UTVOCH: <overboard> I swear the shrimp had something sharp in it!
GISKA: Um, I’m not sure I’m going to get that lure back…
KORRINA: You can’t just pull it back?
GISKA: Well, not without ripping up… um… that one’s mouth, probably. Whichever one of them he is. I probably shouldn’t risk it.
GARROSH: <shouting over> Roll those dice, if you ask me.
MOKVAR: You know, boss, if you maim everyone who annoys you, eventually you will run out of people to maim…
GARROSH: Yeah, like I’m worried about the bottomless well of anonymous red shirts running out.
GISKA: Huh. Well…
Giska tries tugging back her line, setting off a pained wail from Utvoch out of view.
Right. So. I’ll just… let that one go and get a new lure…
Gurtash and Kulkesh enter, walking close to either side of Ruekie, who appears to be moving unsteadily.
KULKESH: Okay… just a little farther…
GURTASH: Watch this next step, Ruekie.
KORRINA: She’s not doing any better?
GURTASH: It’s even worse now. You know… morning and all.
RUEKIE: <trying to steady herself> Why…? Why would they do it…?
GISKA: What did I miss?
KULKESH: Well, she—
RUEKIE: <flailing> What kind of sadist stocks a galley like that?!
Gurtash and Kulkesh try to steady Ruekie.
GURTASH: Kafa withdrawal…
KULKESH: The galley ran out yesterday.
GISKA: Wait, she’s gone without kafa for less than a day so far, and she’s already—
RUEKIE: Seventeen nightmarish hours! Seventeen!
GURTASH: You do not appreciate how much of that stuff she drinks…
GISKA: And… I mean, wouldn’t eight of those have been spent sleeping anyway?
RUEKIE: They were now — without the wakeful buzz of my sweet haste buff! Oh… oh how I miss you, my wired caramelly haze…
KORRINA: See what you miss, being all early-to-bed and early-to-rise, Giska?
KULKESH: I guess the galley just stocked enough kafa to last a couple days—
RUEKIE: <flailing> who does that?! Why?! I— they— We— <whimpers> I feel so slow…
KULKESH: Right… so… We only had enough for a couple days, and now the trip’s ended up taking longer, so…
RUEKIE: They should have poured the kafa on the boat! For the haste buff! To— to get us there faster! Where… where the kafa is! But… but then there would be even less kafa left… and we wouldn’t… but… but we would get there faster… and… uh…
Ruekie flails wildly while Kulkesh and Gurtash try to steady her.
Aaaaaahhhhhh paradoxes! Fel with them!
GISKA: Uh, so… Ruekie… why don’t you just… get some fresh sea air and… and try to relax?
RUEKIE: <closing her eyes and swaying back and forth> Okay… okay… calming and relaxing… calming and… and… <whimpers< I swear if Gul’dan offered me a green cappuccino right now I’d be half tempted…
KORRINA: Uh. Yeah. Okay.
Korrina looks out at the ocean, then to Giska.
So… how long do these fish take?
GISKA: There’s no telling, really.
KORRINA: I mean, it’s been a while now.
GISKA: Not really. Sometimes it can take hours to get a bite.
KORRINA: Hours to…? Why do people make a hobby of this crap?!
GISKA: It’s not so bad. Think of it as a chance to clear your head and center yourself. I do some of my best meditating while I’m fishing.
KORRINA: Oh geez, here you go with that kung-fu panda stuff again…
GISKA: I’m just saying it can be soothing.
KORRINA: For you maybe! It’s already getting on my nerves.
Korrina’s line tugs a few times.
Oh. Oh hey, wait… That’s not one of those guys, is it?
GISKA: <looking overboard> I don’t think so… not sure, though…
UTVOCH: <overboard> Uh, Donty, don’t swim so close?
DONTRAG: <overboard> What are you talking about? I’m all the way over here!
UTVOCH: <overboard> You weren’t just over by me?
DONTRAG: <overboard> Ut, have you not noticed me swimming over here this whole time?
UTVOCH: <overboard> Then what just went by my leg?
DONTRAG: <overboard> I don’t know, a fish or something?
KULKESH: <looking over the side of the ship> Um, guys, do you see something down there?
GISKA: I’m not sure. They’re frothing around a lot. It’s hard to see.
KORRINA: <pulling back on her reel> Dunno, I’m more interested in this. I think I’ve got something!
RUEKIE: What is it?
KORRINA: I don’t know! Whatever it is, it’s putting up a fight!
KULKESH: A tuna, maybe? Those are pretty big.
GURTASH: Tasty, too!
RUEKIE: <grumbling> Kafa’s still better.
GURTASH: Well, yeah, but you can’t live on kafa.
RUEKIE: Don’t you even say that in fun!
GISKA: Whew, if we’re reeling tuna in, I’m glad Master Ji didn’t come along…
KORRINA: Must be a big one — it’s really putting up a fight!
DONTRAG: <overboard> Um… it looks like a fin or something…
UTVOCH: Yeah, well it feels like… it…
Utvoch looks over to one side as a large dorsal fin emerges from the water next to him.
Uh oh…
KULKESH: Hey! Look at that!
RUEKIE: Whoa!
KULKESH: I knew I saw something down there!
GURTASH: What kind of fish is that?
KORRINA: <pulling harder on her reel> A soon-to-be-dead one, if I can help it!
GURTASH: You’ve got that thing?
KORRINA: Dunno, but I’ve got something! And whatever it is is pretty strong for a fish…
Utvoch swims more frantically while looking over at the fin.
UTVOCH: <overboard> Uh, Donty… I think there’s… I think I feel something under me!
DONTRAG: <overboard> Well there kind of has to be, right, unless there’s like a troll wearing a big fake fin!
GURTASH: Uh, Captain, you maybe want to look at this…
GARROSH and DROK: What?
Garrosh and Drok look at each other.
DROK: Wouldn’t that be…?
GARROSH: I’m pretty sure he meant me.
MOKVAR: Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t run into that issue before on this trip…
GURTASH: <pointing overboard> Down there, sir! Look!
KULKESH: Korrina caught something, sir!
KORRINA: I think!
RUEKIE: It’s a big one!
Dontrag and Utvoch shout as the huge dorsal fin descends then rises again, with a giant creature visibly swelling the ocean water from beneath them.
DONTRAG: <overboard> Uhh Warchief!
UTVOCH: <overboard> Sir, I think we have a problem here!
Garrosh goes to the side of the ship and looks over.
GARROSH: What the hell have you idiots done this time?!
DONTRAG: <overboard> We swear, sir, we didn’t do anything!
UTVOCH: <overboard> Honest, Warchief, we—
Another giant fin splashes up out of the water and knocks Utvoch over. After a moment, Utvoch emerges, gasping, nearby.
DROK: Ohh, wait a minute… Could it…?
With another large, loud splash, an immense fish-like creature emerges from beneath the surface of the water, then crashes back down, sending a large splash onto the deck of the boat — dousing Garrosh and Drok in the process.
GARROSH: DAMMIT, you fuckheads, you can’t do ANYTHING without making a big fucking clown show out of it, can you!
DONTRAG: <overboard, scrambling around in the waves> Sorry, Warchief! We didn’t mean to!
UTVOCH: <overboard> We’re sorry having you throw us overboard ended up causing an inconvenience for you, sir!
KORRINA: I think this might have been me, actually, Captain…
Garrosh and Drok start to talk over each other, then look at each other.
GARROSH: Seriously, dude. When one of them says it, they mean me.
DROK: Aye, sorry, Warchief.
GARROSH: And what do you mean YOU did this?
One of the fins crashes up and back down to the water again, sending Dontrag crashing into the side of the boat.
KULKESH: Oh, that one had to hurt…
KORRINA: Well, sir, I think I might have, uh, hooked it…
GISKA: I was showing her how to fish just now, Captain…
GARROSH: Oh. Oh sure. Of course. A member of the Saurfang line goes fishing for the first time, and what happens? She catches a fucking WHALE…
KULKESH: Is it a whale?
KORRINA: As opposed to?
KULKESH: A big fish, I guess.
KORRINA: How do you tell the difference?
GISKA: Well, if it’s a whale, it would have a blowhole and come to the surface to breathe.
RUEKIE: A blowhole?
GURTASH: Oh no. Here we go…
GISKA: Right, you know, whales don’t have gills, so…
GARROSH: How the hell did that thing wind up right on top of us?
MOKVAR: Other than the Saurfang thing.
GARROSH: Yeah, other than that.
DROK: Well, sir…
Another swatting of fins sends Dontrag and Utvoch crashing into each other.
UTVOCH: <overboard> Uh, Warchief…!
DONTRAG: <overboard> This is really becoming not fun down here, sir!
GARROSH: WELL MAYBE YOU GENIUSES SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU WERE JACKASSES SINCE THE DAY YOU WERE BORN, NOW SHOULDN’T YOU?
DONTRAG: <overboard, struggling to pull his head back above water> Yes sir…
UTVOCH: <overboard> Sorry sir…
GISKA: Okay, so look, see, it’s got its back up above the water, so if it’s a whale…
RUEKIE: Oh!
Ruekie leans out over the side of the ship.
GARROSH: Rook, what the hell are you doing?
RUEKIE: Looking for the blowhole, sir!
GURTASH: Wait for it…
RUEKIE: I want to see all that stuff shoot out everywhere!
GURTASH: Aaaaand there it is.
MOKVAR: She does this on purpose, right?
RUEKIE: Does what…? <suddenly looks horrified> Oh gosh!
DROK: Actually, Warchief, I’m a fair bit sure I know what that thing is. Though I can’t say I ever expected I to see it again…
GARROSH: Well don’t just stand there being ominous, Drok. What the hell is it?
KORRINA: Is it a whale? I bet it’s a whale. I caught a whale!
GISKA: I don’t think I saw a blowhole on its back…
RUEKIE: <blushing> Could we not use that word anymore…?
DROK: It’s not a whale, sir. Whales… ah, they’re mostly harmless so long as you give them a wide berth. But this… aye, this is what whales would dream of if they had nightmares.
KORRINA: Oh so I caught something even more badass? Awesome!
GISKA: Well, I mean, you haven’t really caught it…
KORRINA: That’s just jealousy!
GARROSH: Yeah, so, Captain, I’m still hearing too much ominous and not enough answers.
Drok continues looking out at the sea without comment.
Uh, Captain?
Drok looks back to Garrosh.
DROK: Oh. The “Captain” was for me this time?
GARROSH: Dude, try to keep up. I was the one SAYING it. I’m not going to be talking to MYSELF, am I?
DROK: Aye, I reckon not, sir.
GARROSH: Right, so—
More crashing waves — accompanied by more panicked shouts from Dontrag and Utvoch — send the whole ship bucking violently. Everyone tries to steady themselves while deckhands scramble around.
DROK: <shouting toward the bow> Helm! Try bringing us around portside and give us some distance!
DONTRAG: <overboard> Warchief? Um, a rope maybe?
UTVOCH: <overboard> Please, sir?
GARROSH: YOU TWO SHUT UP WHILE I’M WORRYING ABOUT MORE IMPORTANT THINGS THAN YOU, IN OTHER WORDS ANYTHING.
DONTRAG: <overboard> Yes sir…
GARROSH: So do I get an answer here, Drok, or do we have to play fucking charades or some shit?
DROK: It’s not a whale, Warchief. It’s a whale shark. The kind we saw in the deep waters around Vashj’ir, back when I first served under General Nazgrim. Legionnaire then, sir. They don’t often venture this far south… or far north… but this one… Ah, yes, this one, sir. This one’s an exception.
GARROSH: Wait, you know this one specifically?
DROK: Aye, sir. I’ve seen him before. Never expected I might again. At least I would have hoped…
MOKVAR: How can you tell it’s not just some other whale shark?
MALKOROK: <calling below> Gunners! Get up here and man the cannons!
DROK: Look… on his next pass… aye, there!
The whale shark emerges again, setting off waves that send the ship tilting to one side; in the process, it also lifts Dontrag and Utvoch on its back, where they flail around frantically.
There, see, Warchief, the great white hump on the beast’s back…
GARROSH: Dammit, you idiots, get out of the way — you’re blocking the view!
DONTRAG: <sliding around on the whale shark’s back awkwardly> But— but sir…!
GARROSH: BUT NOTHING! Don’t make me tell the gunners to aim at you FIRST!
UTVOCH: <spilling off the side of the whale shark> Yes si— oof!
DROK: And there, Warchief… see the wrinkled white forehead… and along the one side, that long scar, left by ill-fated attempts in days long past to bring the monster down…
UTVOCH: <invisible amid the crashing waves> I really don’t like the sound of this, sir!
GARROSH: Neither do I, if by “this” you mean “your endless bitching”!
While the whole shark sinks and rises again amid the waves, Utvoch manages to climb onto its back and grab onto the dorsal fin.
UTVOCH: Donty! Up here! If we hold on to the fin maybe it won’t be able to bite us!
GISKA: So Captain…
Garrosh looks at her.
Um, Captain Drok, I mean.
Garrosh shrugs.
How do you know about this shark?
DROK: Ah, young’un, this beast has a name for himself, ’mid those of us sail the oceans. Mobius-Dick, the great white whale shark. Told in whispers, mostly, a ghost story for the seas, but for me, and a handful of others, well, we knew all too well he’s real.
The whale shark breaches and crashes back down on the water, rocking the ship again, then dives below the surface. Korrina’s fishing pole gets yanked out of her hands.
KORRINA: Wha— Oh dammit!
DROK: I’ve seen the beast once before, Warchief. You remember, Warchief, back before General Nazgrim found Pandaria in the southern seas, you remember I’d gone on an expedition for him to the northern ones.
GARROSH: Right, I remember. The force we sent to Northrend.
DROK: To pick up a certain arcane trinket. And deliver it to your blood elf friend a ways east.
MALKOROK: Hmph. Bite your tongue, Drok, calling that pompous elf a friend.
DROK: Ah, but he was good at his job in any case, though, wasn’t he.
GARROSH: Did a good job on the mana bomb, true enough.
DROK: Yes, sir — I like to think we had a hand in it as well. Sure, by the time Thalen was working his magic — heh! — we were setting said back home through the northern seas, but I like to think us delivering… well, Warchief, you know… I like to think, in a way, that we delivered the mana bomb.
GARROSH: So, what, on the way back is when you saw this thing or something?
DROK: Aye. On the way home.
Drok goes quiet moment while the crashing of waves around them goes more still.
Mobius-Dick slammed unannounced into our side, Warchief, barely a day out of our rendezvous delivering the mana bomb. 110 orcs went into the water. Ship went down in minutes. And of course, Warchief, our mission had been so secret, no rescue was bound to be coming, not right away. First light, Warchief, Mobius-Dick come cruising back again. So we formed ourselves in tight groups. <chuckles grimly> You know, like maneuvers from basic training, closing the ranks… <waving toward the trainees without looking at them> You young ones learning all that, I wager… And the idea was, whale shark comes near a the group and they’d start pounding and hollering… and sometimes the whale shark would go away. Sometimes he wouldn’t go away… So, 110 orcs went in the water, 31 come out, Mobius-Dick took the rest, twelve days before Theramore. Anyway… we delivered the mana bomb.
MOKVAR: Spirits.
KULKESH: <aside> Remind me never to sign up for naval duty.
GISKA: <aside> Yeah. <beat> Also, don’t phrase it that way too loud around Ruekie.
KULKESH: <aside> Could be entertaining, though.
GISKA: <aside> True.
GARROSH: How did I not hear about any of this?
MALKOROK: We had reports of an incident at sea and recovery, Warchief, but I don’t remember being given the details.
GARROSH: Because I REMEMBER you commanding one of the ships in at Theramore, Drok.
DROK: That I did, Warchief.
GARROSH: In fact, I’m pretty sure you delivered the small strike force we sent in to extract Thalen.
DROK: I suppose I’m a veritable delivery man, sir.
MOKVAR: So you mean you came home from… from that, and turned right around to take another mission?
DROK: I’m a soldier of the Horde, sir, and Nazgrim trained me well. I’m a soldier and I had my duty, and so long as I still have legs, I’ll perform it.
GARROSH: Well, whatever it is, if it—
With a loud crash of waves, Mobius-Dick — with Dontrag and Utvoch still hanging desperately onto its dorsal fin — emerges close to the ship, causing a surge of waves that sends the ship tilting sharply to one side. Deckhands scramble around while Drok barks orders.
DONTRAG: <sputtering for breath> Guh— we— Ut? You still there?
UTVOCH: <sputtering as well> Yeah— I— blurg— I can’t see you, though, I think I got like some salt water in my eyes somehow…
MALKOROK: Get those cannons armed while we have a clear line on it!
DONTRAG: Warchief?
DROK: Aye, sir!
UTVOCH: Sir?
GARROSH: OPEN FIRE!
The cannoneers open fire at Mobius-Dick; the whale shark thrashes violently and splashes water heavily over the deck, dousing everyone nearby.
KORRINA: Guh!
MOKVAR: Dammit, I just dried this suit…
RUEKIE: Ack! That big Dick got me all wet!
KULKESH: Uh…
KORRINA: Uh… Ruek…
GISKA: It’s… it’s not even worth getting into.
MOKVAR: Are we sure she’s not doing it on purpose?
Another round of cannon fire pelts one side of the whale shark — with Dontrag and Utvoch visible still clinging to the dorsal fin.
DONTRAG: <sputtering> You know, Ut, I’m starting to think maybe this fin idea might not have been the best plan…
UTVOCH: <gasping for breath> Well geez, would you rather get swallowed?
DONTRAG: It might be better than getting pulled under till we drown!
UTVOCH: But then we’d get… like…. slowly digested for a thousand years or something!
DROK: Helm, keep us alongside! Don’t let him close on us!
MALKOROK: Kor’kron! Maintain fire!
DONTRAG: Wait! Sir!
UTVOCH: Warchief, please!
Dontrag and Utvoch clamber in tighter against the dorsal fin, partially trying to use it for cover amid the increasing hail of cannonballs.
GARROSH: I’M HEARING WAY TOO MUCH NOISE FROM THE FUCKING EXPENDABLES. <bellowing below deck> Get some shaman up here to try to steady the waters! And while we’re at it, hey, how about some of those beastmasters we brought get their damn asses up here, what with we got a goddamn beast that could use some mastering! Unless they’re all working at the frigging Steve level!
UTVOCH: Poor Steve!
DONTRAG: Spirits rest his soul — I can’t believe he’s gone!
UTVOCH: Yeah, I know — he owed me like fifteen gold…
DONTRAG: Dammit, Ut, the poor guy’s dead! Eaten even!
UTVOCH: <hanging on to the whale shark desperately as it thrashes> Yeah, well, better him than us!
DONTRAG: Ut, there were never any devilsaur gonna eat us!
UTVOCH: Spirits’ sake, Donty, look where we are right now!
GARROSH: OKAY, THAT’S IT, I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THE PRATTLING IDIOT SOUNDTRACK ON CONSTANT LOOP WHILE WE HAVE LITERAL BIGGER FISH TO FRY!
Garrosh grabs a harpoon from a weapons rack and runs back to the edge of the deck.
DONTRAG: Warchief! We’re sorry, sir!
UTVOCH: We really mean it this time, sir! Cross our hearts and hope to —
DONTRAG: Dammit, Ut!
GARROSH: SHUT! THE FUCK! UP!
Garrosh hurls the harpoon toward Mobius-Dick — hitting it square in the middle of its wrinkled forehead. The whale shark thrashes violently, shaking Dontrag and Utvoch off its back; the duo fly toward the ship. The whale shark’s thrashing causes a wave that douses the deck again, just as D&U crash into Garrosh.
DONTRAG: <sprawled, with Utvoch, awkwardly on the deck> I… I don’t think I like seafood anymore…
UTVOCH: My hands are all pruney…
GARROSH: <drumming his fingers on the deck> You know, I’ll bet you anything this kind of shit didn’t used to happen to Thrall…
So… yeah. That was a thing. More fun than you’re ever going to have without lighting your own head on fire. On the plus side, turns out that whale shark steaks are pretty tasty. Although overall I don’t know if I can recommend them, what with the accompanying side order of moron jackassery. Or do they count that as a garnish? Tough call.
Either way, we should be reaching Pandaria soon. Cross your fingers for no more outbreaks of stupidity.
DPS (poetry) check
That’s right, it’s time for this week’s edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge. You all know the deal by now — in honor of National Poetry Month, I’m inviting my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS to send in their own poetic masterpieces (cough), out of which I select GLORIOUSLY LUCKY SUBMISSIONS to feature here, along with my own EPIC VERSE response.
For today’s round, I’ve got some extra special submissions for you. Specifically, a bunch of my very own trainees from the DPS saw fit to try to emulate their beloved mentor and cook up some wannabe-masterpieces of their own. This may or may not have had something to do with an offer I might possibly have made to accept a poem submission in lieu of the 300-laps-around-Orgrimmar jogging drill I just happened to assign them the other day. BUT NEVERTHELESS.
Point is, though, that means that this edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge features NOT ONE, NOT TWO, but THREE featured poems. CAN YOU CONTAIN YOUR EXCITEMENT? I DON’T BELIEVE YOU CAN.
So, with no further ado, let’s see what the kids have come up with.
Our first submission comes from Mirembe, and see, this is actually pretty impressive, in the sense that Mirembe isn’t even stationed in Orgrimmar right now — she’s still up in Northrend on training maneuvers with Tov’osh — so she wasn’t even here when I issued my ultimatum made my offer to her DPS peers. But she didn’t let that stop her from cranking out a little something.
Which, you know, is more than I can say for Tov’osh.
BUT WHY DWELL ON THE NEGATIVE. After all if there’s one thing you people know about me, it’s my positive attitude and sunny outlook on life. So let’s have a look at Mirembe’s submission and see if one of my minions managed NOT TO FUCKING DISAPPOINT ME FOR ONCE.
There once was an orc from Garadar
Who was invited by Thrall to travel very far
He slaughtered the Scourge
And then went on to purge
All those not loyal to Orgrimmar!
Not bad, not bad… Although, I mean, considering she knew she was sending it in to ME, this DOES kind of smack of a little tiny vague whiff of… you know… sucking up to the guy with the grade book. Not a dealbreaker or anything, but I can’t help but have it on the brain when I cook up my response…
Now I usually don’t go in for flattery —
Blatant suck-ups get assault and battery.
But you’re right — it’s more dangerous
To be one of the traitorous:
Who’ll surely lose part of their anatomy.
EPIC VERSE!
Okay, next up is a submission from Korrina — who, by the way, just recently gave in to peer pressure from her fellow trainees and got herself set up on Twitter. Where she wasted no time in becoming a pretty damn prolific tweeter, I’ll have you know. Anyhow, you should all go follow her if you’re not already. YOUR WARCHIEF HAS SPOKEN.
So, free advertising aside, let’s see what Korrina has to show for her efforts…
Whose woods these are I do not know
They’re near a Night Elf village though
We must be quiet working here
To chop our wood and quickly go
My peons should be filled with fear
But they have not a brain cell near
I’m not sure they would even run
If Allied soldiers should appear
I booterang the slowest one
To make sure he gets his work done
The punishment he thinks is steep
But soon he’s loaded half a tonne
Our cart is loaded thirty deep
And back to Orgrimmar we creep
I bet those Night Elves sure will weep
I bet those Night Elves sure will weep
EPIC VERSE
Gotta say, that’s pretty damn good. Other than the part where she got a little too full of herself and decided her creation here was worthy of EPIC VERSE treatment. You’re gettin’ there, kid, but not quite, not yet. Still, credit where it’s due, this WAS a good job, so I went ahead and granted you, y’know, rare verse status with your text color. It WAS a good piece of work. So on top of being a promising warrior-in-training, Korrina might also have a possible side gig as a poet. Assuming she doesn’t consider it too much of a weenie undertaking to do as more than a one-off. To which, pfft. But anyway. On to my response…
Whose woods these are I know full well;
Those night elves can all go to hell.
I stomped about and yelled and swore,
For I won’t walk ’round on eggshells.
My wyvern makes a mighty roar
As up above the trees we soar;
Where once we flew on bombing runs,
But quoth the druid: Nevermore.
The night elves aim with futile guns,
But each shot Mortimer outruns.
I wonder what the hell’s their qualm;
Your guess is good as anyone’s.
These night elf woods will soon be calm,
When they are ours: just one more bomb,
Just north of where we honor Grom.
Just north of where we honor Grom.
EPIC VERSE!
Okay, so last and possibly least, maybe or maybe not, WE’LL JUST HAVE TO SEE, here’s one from Ruekie (@RuekieShaman on Twitter, by the way, for any of you jokers who aren’t already following her as you ABSOLUTELY SHOULD)…
Dark and creamy, Mr. Delicious
Your flavor makes me quite ambitious.
Your scent so wild, so strong and heady.
My body sings I am ready!
Give it to me, give it to me now.
That nectar of life, give me that POW!
I thirst for that extra potion of power!
That crazy haste buff that lasts an hour!
Espresso, mocha java, vanilla latte!
Not in a sippy cup, give me GRANDE!
That surge of great flavor, that fabulous taste.
Oh, how I adore it along with that HASTE!
PLEASE! PLEASE! TAKE ME AWAY!
TAKE ME TO EVERY STARBULLS KAFE!
Once I’ve consumed every last drop with glee,
Move over rover – I gotta go pee!
(I’m serious about this, don’t you laugh
Try taking my kafa, it will be your last gaffe.)
Uh, yeah. So… that was a thing.
Does she do this on purpose? I feel like she has to do this on purpose, just because she does it so damn much. And then I remember I’ve actually met her, and what she’s like in person, and yeah, no.
Anyway, here’s what I have to say back to her:
Now cool your jets and try to stay calm,
And wait a moment while I facepalm.
Her every good idea goes south
The moment she first opens her mouth.
We tried to warn; she never took heed.
Every time she talks, she winds up ruekied.
So listen, Rook, in your next letter,
You’ve gotta pick your words much better.
Although your poem could be splendid,
It implied much more than you intended.
I know to you kafa’s amazing,
But that’s not what it seems you’re praising:
Oh no — instead, it seems it’s me:
Subject of trainee fantasy.
And folks already hate my scruples,
Without suspicions of my pupils.
What’s more, you’re younger than my daughter;
My hate mail doesn’t need more fodder.
So stand corrected, stand your ground,
Stand up for kafa, stand out in the crowd,
But please don’t stand, for all to see,
Don’t stand, don’t stand so close to me.
EPIC VERSE!
So… yeah. I’m not sure why I went into this one thinking that Ruekie WASN’T going to… you know… do what she does. But I mean, seriously. I get enough people bitching and complaining to me about the stuff I ACTUALLY DO, without little miss foot-in-mouth giving them more ammunition over imaginary shit I DON’T do. Ugh.
Anyhow, that’s going to do it for this EXTRA GIANT PACKED edition of Garrosh’s Poetry challenge. Remember to keep those poems coming in — anything I receive by the end of the day next Monday is eligible for next week’s post, and who knows, maybe I’ll toss out a bonus edition at some point. Or maybe not. Depends on whether I get ambitious. Or lazy. Who knows.
ANYWAY, handy form below, or use the e-mail link in the upper right sidebar. You know the drill. More soon.
#500 GIANT-SIZED (not really) ANNIVERSARY (kind of) SPECIAL
Okay, people, I know we’ve got a hell of a lot going on these days on a whole bunch of fronts, but let’s get our damn priorities straight and take a moment to APPRECIATE THE GODDAMN AWESOMENESS OF ME.
Why, you ask? AS IF YOU NEED A REASON. But okay, fine, be that way. Even though you should already be in a constant state of awe over your Warchief, today marks an EXTRA SPECIAL awesome, awe-inspiring, awful… wait. I think I just took a wrong turn there.
…
IT’S A SPECIAL GODDAMN OCCASION IS WHAT I’M SAYING.
Reason being, the post you see before you marks the 500th BLOG POST here on the Warchief’s Command Board. That’s right, bitches, 500 posts — that’s FIVE ZERO ZERO. Go ahead and count ’em. I KNOW YOU WON’T.
But that’s where we are, people — 500 installments of EVERYBODY’S FAVORITE BLOG EVER. And riddle me this: have you read them all?
Yeah, me neither.
I mean, there were a bunch in there by guest posters like Spazzle and Mokvar, and I like those guys and everything, but not enough to actually give a shit about what they have to say about… like… anything. But whatever — like trees falling in the forest with no one there to hear them, those guests posts still… um… make a… sound when they…crash the server and… um… that is…
OKAY, THAT ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME A LITTLE, TOO. I MAY OR MAY NOT BE WORKING ON A COUPLE DRINKS, OKAY, SO STFU.
Anyhow. I’d like to thank all my loyal readers, and say that I couldn’t have done it without you. I’d LIKE to say that, but I can’t, because I totally could have. Let’s be real, scrubs, I’m the awesome one here, not you. THERE’S A REASON WHY YOU’RE READING MY BLOG AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND, NOW ISN’T THERE?
But still, the occasion calls for something special, so in keeping with this month’s theme — I DO have a Poetry Challenge in progress, after all — I figured I’d take a look back at a 500-stack of EPIC the only proper way EPIC gets done:
That “LOK’TAR OGAR!” that I blogged for a starter;
I met D&U, but my wyvern’s way smarter;
Krom’gar dropped a bomb, but I dropped his ass harder;
EO gaming, “why fly” malaprop.
Twilights on a mission for that Cho’gall demon;
Ogres versus Grimtotem, and Magatha schemin’;
Johnny Awesome, beat it; Garona, keep dreamin’;
Saurfang took a turn watching the shop.
That time I went AWOL, then I was recovered;
Grabby Mylune hugged me till I damn near smothered;
Garadar reunion with my long-lost mother;
Year one challenge, rhymes of locks in socks.
Mom was just a cruel trick Magatha unraveled;
Trouble for Forsaken; Tirion’s endless babble;
Head to old Southshore thanks to FUCKING TIME TRAVEL;
Human Faranell’s a paradox.
Psycho!Mylune rampaged, eyes more wild than dewy;
Edwin fucked the past up; all the timelines went screwy;
We straightened them out; Theramore went kablooey;
Went to Karazhan to spin some tunes.
Pandas showed up teaching how anger is managed;
Got myself some trainees: DPS advantage;
Someone ganked Mokvar; he ankhed and wound up bandaged;
Rolled up on Pandaria with my goons.
Gurtash started drawing; Vol’jin stopped his breathing;
Cloudfall spoke of destiny and got me near believing;
Mokvar met Magatha, that one had me seething;
He went off the grid — he’d best run far.
Lor’the’whatsit’s bitching still; I got pounced by Tak;
Snagged the Divine Bell; that’s when Jaina blew her stack;
DPS got lost, but I (mostly) got them back;
Meet my daughter, Shay. (Have a cigar.)
Shay’s mage class was hard, her sucker punch was hardest;
Mokvar reappeared with green fire from the Black Harvest;
Gurtash got blindsided, we were down an artist;
Made an offer Blackfuse can’t refuse.
Green-eyed wolf named Golmash acting pretty fishy;
Gurtash still needs training not to be so squishy;
Utvoch got promoted, but I kinda wish he
And Dontrag weren’t always so confused.
EPIC VERSE and lemon squares, endless reader mail;
Ruekie getting ruekied; eternal minion fail;
Mortimer’s a badass; Shayari’s hunting sales;
Earth Online guild chat is always strange.
FYV; #LadiesLoveMe, ’cause they’re not slumming;
Trolls are always trolling, dumbasses are dumbing;
500 down so far, a thousand more coming!
Okay, maybe. Times could always change.
EPIC VERSE!
Keep checking in, people. The EPIC DROPS are only just warming up.
LOK’TAR!
Worg in sheep’s clothing
Mokvar’s been keeping me posted on his research into the Golmash situation, and needless to say I don’t like the sound of this one bit. I finally decided it was time for me to go over to have a look at this wolf personally. Mokvar came with, since he’s already deep into the situation, plus Shayari decided she was going to tag along, mainly because I think she heard me talking about going over to the Hunter’s Hall and got the idea in her head that maybe it was like a petting zoo or some shit. Granted, it’s not like she’s got any part in this business, but I’ve already learned how little good it goes to try to get her to stay put when she’s got her mind set on going somewhere. (I really was hoping that would skip a generation.)
So the bunch of us headed over to the Hunter’s Hall this morning. That also marks the first time I’ve gotten to have a little face time with Ogunaro Wolfrunner, after having had a fair bit of contact with him through his mailbag letters. Good guy, make no mistake, but yeah, Mokvar wasn’t kidding, dude could not be more earnest if he tried. I can see why his kid grew up seriously needing to unclench a little. Speaking of whom, Corkrok passed his om’riggor since last we heard. Good on him. No surprise, of course — he seemed plenty driven. I can already tell he’s going to be a regular laugh riot for Overlord Runthak, though, when the kid hitches on with his trainee unit.
Anyhow, on to the main event.
So the plan was twofold — one, for me to have a look for myself at this wolf and see what the hubbub is about, between Ogunaro’s reports and Mokvar’s creeped-out investigations and his suspicion there might actually be someone in there. And two, to move Golmash over to a special pen I’ve had set up at the Kor’kron stables, where he can be kept isolated and under close observation, as opposed to the general stables we have open to the public at the Hunter’s Hall.
Part one went smoothly enough, even if it was disturbing. As per my orders, Ogunaro had Golmash isolated from the other wolves. I’d heard plenty about him, but this was my first time seeing him with my own eyes. Ogunaro and Mokvar weren’t kidding about how creepy this wolf is. On paper, I wouldn’t have figured that the green glow in his eyes would be as unnerving as it is, but the more you watch him, the more disturbing it seems. It doesn’t even jump right out at you — you can miss it if you aren’t really watching, but once you notice it, it’s like you can’t look away. Green and glowing, with that dull haze that somehow manages to glow and look dead at the same time. I wouldn’t have thought that combination was possible. (Then again, D&U manage to keep themselves alive while, you know, being D&U, so that probably shows all you need to know about seeming contradictions. If you don’t have a taste for paradox, you better not try taking life straight.)
It’s a weird coincidence that Ogunaro decided to name the wolf after my grandfather, the first to carry the name Hellscream. Golmash (the original, not the four-legged knockoff) died in the jaws of a giant gronn — but not before he drove Gorehowl into the giant’s skill to bring it down with him. I almost hate to admit it, but if it wasn’t for this whole creepy fel-tinged level to what’s going on, I would even think the name was fitting — one look and you get the feeling that if Gruul tried to swallow this wolf, he’d probably claw his way right out of Gruul’s mouth, up through his eye, and probably rip out his brain while he was at it.
So that was part one.
Part two ended up being more complicated than I was counting on. We already had a couple Kor’kron beastmasters on hand at Ogunaro’s place, keeping an eye on Golmash, and I had a couple other sent over to meet us when I went to pay my visit. Plus I made a point of putting extra guards around the Valley of Honor, and cleared a route from the Hunter’s Hall to the Kor’kron stables. So you would THINK that would be enough to handle the damn mutt.
YOU WOULD BE WRONG.
We might have had plans to transport Golmash over to the location, but Golmash had no such plans to go anywhere, and evidently when the best-laid plans of worgs and orcs run into each other, what oft goes awry is any delusion I might have had of getting things done quickly so I can grab an early lunch. Because that just would have been too fucking convenient.
According to Ogunaro, Golmash had been kind of ornery when he moved him into his current pen as per my instructions, but the wolf ultimately went along with it. Apparently, though, the furball was getting crankier by the day. The Kor’kron beastmasters tried to maneuver him along the exit path we’d planned, but Golmash was having none of it. At one point, two of the beastmasters tried to direct Golmash along with training prods, but even that wound up being a bad idea — he lunged right past the prods and onto one of the beastmasters. And I mean, I guess he probably didn’t NEED that arm, strictly speaking — it was just his left, after all — but it still has to be a drag being short one. Unless he came from the Shattered Hand clan, in which case, you know, either overdue or ironic, depending on how you look at it. He still fared better, though, than another one of the beastmasters who tried to help pull Golmash off him, because… well, the less said about that the better. The word “entrails” comes to mind.
So right about then, I was having one of my need-better-minions moments, what with multiple supposed “beastmasters” not exactly fully specced into actual beast mastery, and one of them apparently not having put any points into survival, either. Or I WOULD have been having one of those moments if it weren’t for the fact that I was busy dealing with a suddenly highly agitated, seemingly fel-compromised worg that may or may not be carrying some heretofore unknown spiritual cargo that makes KILLING him a non-starter even if DON’T TEMPT ME, while finding myself short one-and-a-quarter beastmasters, with Ogunaro running around the place swapping out his 3/3 Enhanced Earnestness to respec deep into Freakout while he tried to keep the surrounding pens under control, what with Golmash’s antics having gotten a whole bunch of the OTHER nearby stabled animals all riled up and agitated. And granted, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve found myself in a minion-related situation that I would compare to being a zoo, but come the fuck ON, universe, this is making it a little on-the-nose even for me.
So it was right around this point, when I was finally coming to the realization that yelling at the gaggle of panicking fuckers to pull their heads out of their asses and HANDLE it, that Shayari of all people actually had the presence of mind to pop a rapid-fire polymorph on Golmash. Which was pretty clutch, I’ve gotta say. Must be the Hellscream blood. (I even said something to her to that effect, but that just got her curious about family history and asking questions about Grom, but I managed to sidestep THAT long story by promising to tell her about it once we weren’t hip-deep in stupidity. I figure that oughta buy me at least a month or two.)
Anyhow, at THAT point, getting the wolf moved was a fairly simple task, since even those beastmasters — whose job title I’m seriously beginning to reconsider on grounds of irony — managed not to have too much trouble transporting a fucking sheep a little ways across town. And if the lot of them felt kind of embarrassed strolling through Orgrimmar in their badass Kor’kron armor and toting heavy-duty don’t-fuck-with-me weaponry while providing armed escort to a fucking SHEEP, well you know what? GOOD. Maybe next time, if they want to stroll around looking all hardcore, they should maybe figure out a way to STAY ON TOP OF THE HARDCORE-TYPE ASSIGNMENTS.
Ugh.
So. Wolf is under wraps in a controlled environment, is what I’m saying.
Or so I’d like to think. But, you know, based on recent field results, who knows. I’ll say this, all these trainees we’ve got coming up through the ranks are going to have all fucking kinds of room for career advancement right quick. Now if you’ll excuse me, in the meantime, I think I need to go put a “Jobs Available” post on Kragslist.
More soon.
Monday mailbag
Another Monday, another batch of letters. Let’s see what my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS have to say to their favorite Warchief…
I feel like it’s been quite some time since last we corresponded. As it happens, I have been travelling, and taking a quill to parchment didn’t really make the cut of amazing new things to do. Which I happen to have recorded on a piece of parchment that I believe I wrote up two weeks ago. Anywho. By the way, did Rue’kara get her writing supplies back?
Anyway, my travels took me and Anaria to Ashenvale, where I made a very brief stop at the Silverwind Outpost to gather some rations and fresh arrows. Don’t worry, Ana stayed outside. I think she was freaked out by all the Night Elf corpses. Which, by the way, I totally respect you fighting a war and all, but couldn’t you at least clean them up?
Anyway…what I really wanted to bring up with you was the fact that I may or may not have bumped into your orcish associates, Seargent Dontrag and Scout Utvoch. Photographic evidence below;
My question may be perceived as rhetorical, but I am genuinely intrigued; where did they learn math? And also, when did math start becoming relevant in the days of the week? I think there was something about Brewfest math too but I’d zoned out at that point.
I really am sorry.
I hope your luck is treating you well.
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade
Well I’ll be damned, Sarlin, you were able to get in under the 250-word limit without even breaking a sweat. Will wonders ever cease.
So… yeah. You met those two. And… just to recap, for anyone who wasn’t paying attention, let me direct your attention to Sarlin in this picture…
…and yeah, that’s pretty much the look I have on MY face when the Wonder Twins turn up, too.
By the way, it’s not Scout Utvoch anymore, just FYI. He’s Grunt Utvoch now, as of a couple days ago when he got a promotion. Was he still wearing his Scout insignia? Minor point, I know, but stay tuned, we’ll come back to it.
Good news is, Sarlin, I’ve got an easy answer for your question. Where did D&U learn math? They didn’t. Pro tip: any time a question begins “Where did D&U learn,” the answer is they didn’t. Every single time.
To be honest with you, though, I’m less concerned about D&U’s grasp of math (hang on — I think reality just shuddered a little at me stringing THOSE words together consecutively) than I am about their grasp of GEOGRAPHY. You say you ran into them at SILVERWIND REFUGE? Just… hanging out like they were ON DUTY or something?
Dude… they USED to be stationed out there, then I fucking reassigned them to Stonetalon… like TWO YEARS AGO. They served there under Krom’gar (and the less said about THAT motherfucker the better), then STAYED up that way when I put the region under Overlord Cliffwalker’s jurisdiction. And okay, then Cliffwalker pulled a fast one on me and shipped their asses down to Pandaria to get them out of his hair and back into mine. And for this past little while now, while I’ve been back in Orgrimmar, they’ve been in town here too, temporarily, pending the return trip south.
And the reason I’m even going into this much detail about it is so you can really appreciate the chain of travels, relocations, and reassignments that D&U have had SINCE the last time they were supposed to be in Silverwind Refuge.
And yet, there they were.
You know what? Fuck it. Good place for ’em. Let Captain Tarkan worry about what to do with ’em. Maybe they can go farm some Molten Front dailies, too, while they’re keeping busy in Three-Major-Villains-Ago Land. Maybe that’s just how slow their brains are, that they’re still getting caught up from like two years ago, and so every so often they have a collective brain fart and think they’re still supposed to be at the base where they USED to be stationed and HEY EUREKA maybe THAT’S why Utvoch was still going by “Scout,” because the goddamn hamster wheel in his brain is still spin spin spinning around trying to get caught up to TODAY, and sometimes the hamster falls over in the wheel and gets whipped around a few hundred times and in its dizzy confusion it has to take a wild guess at what year it is and sometimes it guesses wrong. So HEY, UTVOCH, in case you’re reading this, check it out, THE LICH KING IS DEAD NOW, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT SHIT?
Isn’t Rhonin dead? I live in Dalaran and I hear him say something, like, every five minutes or something? Something about raising our eyes to the skies and observing? Why am I still hearing this? Is Rhonin’s ghost haunting us forever with his endless speech?
–Clarise Sunbow
Okay, so, I think I’m kind of in a unique position to say, definitely, that yes, Rhonin is dead. No two ways about it, dude got himself deaded up right good. Still, Clarise, that IS one hell of a weird thing to be stuck listening to over and over all day (not to mention annoying as fuck), so I went ahead and did a little research for you. NO NEED TO THANK ME. Seeing as you’ve apparently got a dead guy turning up and doing the same shit over and over, I went ahead and consulted with my own resident dead guy with a history of doing the same shit over and over, Doc Faranell over in the Undercity. Well, that is, I TRIED consulting with him on this. He mostly just kind of stared at me forlornly. Not especially helpful, really. Come to think of it, maybe Faranell wouldn’t know as much about this as I was thinking. I mean, yeah, two dead guys, but “walking around playing poker on Fridays”-dead is a lot different from “blown up by a mana bomb”-dead.
Luckily, though, I WAS eventually able to drag a possible answer out of Faranell, but he did it drawing more from the part where he’s a mage than from the part where he’s a reanimated dead guy with a history of being trapped in infinitely repeating time loops. Which, of the two, is really kind of the more mundane part of Faranell’s deal, and come to think of it, what kind of crazy bizarro world are we stuck in where being a fucking WIZARD is the BORING thing about someone? But anyhow, Faranell blathered some stuff about what’s probably going on, a lot of which I don’t really remember too well because it involved a load of technical magic talk and also because I wasn’t paying attention too closely because, let’s be honest, I don’t really care that much. BUT I SAID I WAS GOING TO GET YOU AN ANSWER, DAMMIT.
We soldier on.
So the gist of it is that after Rhonin got his ass arcane-kablooeyed all across the swamp, something about his personal magic power got amped up by the mana bomb magic power and the Focusing Iris magic power and did a thing with the whole Dalaran magic-ground-zero power, and something about a place that was personally important to him, and some other shit Faranell said that who the fuck can follow and who even cares really, and the end result is there’s some kind of arcane echo of Rhonin that’s been projected into Dalaran that keeps replaying a moment of his life over and over again. Which kind of makes me glad the dude never swung by this neck of the woods for a visit, because I’ve got enough pains in the ass to deal with without having to listen to “CITIZENS OF ORGRIMMAR! LOOK TO THE SKY!” every five minutes.
Tomorrow I am going to the Valley of Trials to face my om’riggor. At my father’s insistence, I write to you to confirm I will be joining that trainee program of yours, though I fail to see what I’ll get out of it. For the record, my father told me I should become a hunter, but I am no hunter’s son. Perhaps the Thunderlord of old thought that was good enough for them, but my father keeps wolves and my mother was a warrior, so I will keep wolves and fight for Orgrimmar. I was surprised when he told me, though; all I was ever told about my ancestral clan was that they kept the last wolf pen on Draenor around the time of the reign of Ner’zhul.
If you and my father are truly so frightened I will get myself killed, let me make this vow: when I am seasoned enough to command my own warriors, I will find my mothers killers and make them pay. Until then, I will bide my time, study the Alliance’s tactics and strike when they least expect it. I would kill those beasts now if I could, but they will only grow older and grayer, while I will grow stronger and tougher, as the years pass, after all. It will make my task easier, I’m sure.
–Corkrok Wolfrunner
P.S. By the way, your shaman friend hasn’t helped matters any – that wretched green-eyed wolf is still at it, and my father still doesn’t know what’s causing his condition.
Oh Corkrok…
…all these flavors, and you just had to choose to be salty, didn’t you?
You know, I get the sense that you’ve got some weird read on me that’s making you think I’m AGAINST you going after the humans who killed your mother. Let’s clear this up — I get it, okay? The Alliance killed your mother — reason #87,403 to rid the world of them –and you want them dead. GOOD. Awesome. I’m all for it. I am 100% UTTERLY PRO DEAD HUMANS. Are we clear on this?
The only thing your father and I want to make sure of is that you’re fully prepared when the time comes for you to square off against them in battle. So guess what — that means WE ALL WANT THE SAME DAMN THING. So, to that end, I’m assigning you to Overlord Runthak’s trainee group. He’s one of our best warriors and no stranger to the Alliance tactics (pfft) that you seem so keen to study up on. You stick with him, and soon enough you’ll get your chance to have at the humans.
As for the “green-eyed wolf” — Golmash, if I remember right — I know it’s still a work in progress. I’ve been getting reports from Mokvar, who’s the “shaman friend” you mentioned… well, other than the fact that he’s really NOT a shaman, he just used to be, but then I guess I can’t really blame you for getting that mixed up because honestly, dude changes classes more often than ogres change underwear (i.e., more than once per lifetime). And, well, if we’re being totally real here, even the “friend” part is at least debatable. But still. Yeah. He’s been keeping me up to date on his research. We’ve got a couple possible leads, but it might not be a situation with a quick fix. More updates to follow on that one. Probably best to let your father and me and my, um, shaman warlock friend friend (?) oh fuck it whatever friend worry about this one for the time being. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, good luck with the om’riggor, and glad to see you finally coming to your senses about training. Well, sort of, at least. See above re: salty. But, you know, whatever gets the job done, right?
What strength or other quality do you wish you/the Horde could assimilate or appropriate from the Alliance or other factions/enemies.
Undying loyalty,
–Sintra E’Drien
I mean, if we’re talking about one side APPROPRIATING things from the other, you maybe want to go talk to the ALLIANCE about where they got that awesome idea to set up a Brawler’s Guild. Just sayin’. I mean, not for nothing, but nothing pisses me off more than people ripping off my ideas (with the possible exceptions of Magatha and Johnny Awesome and gnomes and humans and murlocs and people who sit there on their big-ass mounts blocking the mailbox because FUCK those people). Seriously, what’s next? How many more of my ideas are going to get ripped off by assholes? Is somebody going to steal the genius idea to travel back to the past that I had forever ago? Or WAS it forever ago? WHO’S TO SAY, because FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.
As for qualities I’D like to copy from the Alliance… um… hmm. Kind of drawing a blank here, to tell you the truth. The night elves and draenei both have massive lifespans, so I guess that would be pretty cool. Although the blood elves live a damned long time, too, because elves, and I suppose the Forsaken are pretty much immortal as long as nobody KILLS them kills them, because, you know, they already died once and who wants to do that shit again? But that means we’ve already got the super-duper lifespans covered in-house… So… nope. I got nothin’.
So… hmm… maybe I can take a look at some of the other factions out there and see if they have anything going for them…
Timbermaw Hold — I don’t have some quality that I’d want to gain from them, exactly, but I DO find it kinda cool how, due to some tribal technicality, they recognize the Warchief of the Horde — whoever that happens to be — as an Archbishop. True story. I have the funny hat to prove it.
The Keepers of Time — Don’t even get me started. Also, not for nothing, but why do we actually have the Keepers of Time, AND the Scale of the Sands, AND the Brood of Nozdormu? Aren’t they all pretty much the same thing? Or is this some kind of freaky time travel thing where they literally ARE the same thing but from overlapping timelines and they need to use different names to make sure they don’t cross the streams because timey whimey and OMG FUCKING TIME TRAVEL. HEAD HURTS.
The Argent Crusade — I would love to have their apparent ability to be around Tirion all day and somehow not feel an overpowering urge to KILL EVERYTHING EVER.
The Sons of Hodir — Okay, you know what? This isn’t a trait that the whole faction has, and for that matter, it’s not even something I would want to pass on to the entire Horde. It’s purely something about that Thorim dude that I’d like to grab up for myself. The guy does an absolutely KILLER Baine Bloodhoof voice. Annoys the living FUCK out of Baine. Always has. Just being REMINDED of Thorim gets Baine all grumbly. Next time you’re in Thunder Bluff, in fact, roll up on Baine and just go “IN THE MOUNTAINS!” in the best Thorim voice you can manage. Even if it’s not that good. Maybe even ESPECIALLY if it’s not that good. Just try it. Anyway, I bet it would be a fucking BLAST if I could do the voice like ol’ MC Hammer does.
Tushui Pandaren — Okay, so here we go. I knew if I mulled it over for long enough, I’d be able to come up with SOMEBODY from within the Alliance that had something going for them. So, here you go, Sintra, here’s something from an Alliance sub-faction that I’d like to emulate myself — a picture’s worth a thousand words:
Nuff said, motherfucker. Nuff said.
I understand that some of my past conduct may have accidentally agitated you, but I am writing to assure you of my resolve to make amends and offer my ongoing service!
As one of your followers informed you in your last mailbag (See? I am even a regular blog reader and fan. Not disuaded by all the bounty hunters you have sent after me!), I recently risked great bodily harm to make up for past mistakes and eliminate Magatha Grimtotem on your behalf!
Unfortunately she managed to get away. I know I must have hurt her a lot though! Those Face Melters pack a wallop, and I can only imagine they must do even more damage to the target than the user. Otherwise I may have made a very poor investment.
But as you can see, my loyalty has not wavered! Even after all the time I have needed to spend in hiding. And so I write to you now in hopes that my efforts with the Grimtotem crone will return me to your good graces.
The blade of Johnny Awesome awaits your bidding warchief!
Lock-tar ogre,
–Johnny Awesome, Felwood
So, a few points here.
First, for anyone who doesn’t remember… ugh, now I actually have to relive this shit again… I ran into this Johnny Awesome guy a couple years ago while Garona and I were working a case, and he was all looking for missions to make himself useful, and so, you know, I went into questgiver mode and sent him off to Thousand Needles to find some busywork for himself or maybe hopefully get himself killed. IF ONLY. And so OF COURSE it would JUST SO HAPPEN that the Twilight nutjob cult was holding Magatha PRISONER in Thousand Needles, and she duped ol’ Johnny Asshole into HELPING her, and then she went prancing off on her merry way and don’t even get me STARTED on the whole shitstorm she stirred up from THERE.
So, second, yeah, this is THAT Johnny Awesome.
Which leads us to THIRD AND FOURTH, holy fucking shit do I fucking HATE that guy, YES I DO.
Oh, and, FIFTH, he didn’t exactly help his cause by somehow managing to fuck up “Lok’tar ogar” while writing to THE GODDAMN WARCHIEF looking for forgiveness.
But, on the topic of your request there, Johnny, let me put it this way:
SIXTH — Look at that, people, HE JUST TOLD YOU HE’S IN FELWOOD. THE BOUNTY’S NOW UP TO TWO MILLION GOLD — GET OUT THERE, GET HUNTING, AND BRING ME THE HEAD OF JOHNNY MOTHERFUCKING AWESOME!
That’s all for this time. Keep sending those letters. But not before you head up to Felwood and lay some decapitating on ol’ Sparkle-Pony-Boy.
More soon.
[The Warchief’s next mailbag will be Monday, May 2. Send your questions, comments, or other missives to Garrosh via or email through the link in the upper right sidebar, or, as always, using the handy-dandy form below:]
Learner’s permit
The last few days, I’ve been putting in some extra work with Gurtash on his melee skills. I even got Lantresor to come in, like I was thinking about the other day, but even that didn’t seem to move the needle very much. (Ol’ Lantresor was doing a pretty damn good job with the mentoring, though, even if the end results weren’t there. I might have to see about bringing him in to talk to the other trainees.)
It’s a weird thing, though. It’s not like the kid is uncoordinated… well, it’s not like he’s RIDICULOUSLY uncoordinated. Or just flat-out inept. He moves well, he’s got good hand-eye coordination, but any time he tries sparring, within a few moves he ends up backed into a corner, like he’s playing catch-up. It’s as if he gets caught up too much in his own head and can’t keep up with the fight.
I’m starting to think the kid’s just putting too much pressure on himself when he knows he’s being observed. Like, he knows Lantresor and I are watching his moves, so he gets so focused on putting on a good show for US and not making any mistakes, he winds up not paying enough attention to what he’s DOING. You know how it goes — anytime you get all caught up in not doing anything wrong, you just wind up tensing up so much that you make mistakes you never would ordinarily. Anyhow, that’s what I think might be going on with Gurtash. It’s dumb, I know, seeing as the whole point of the exercise was for Lantresor and I to HELP him, but that’s kids for you.
Anyway, while Gurtash’s combat development has been kind of stuck in neutral, he HAS been making some pretty steady progress on a different learning curve. Ever since I showed him Grimjaw — that young wolf that Ogunaro Wolfrunner donated for Horde service — he’s been heading over to the stables every chance he’s gotten to see the little furball. The two of them seemed to bond pretty quickly, so I went ahead and set Gurtash up to start his riding training with Kildar over at the Hunters’ Hall. He’s been working on it for the last few days and seems to be taking to it pretty quickly. As it happens, that also means the kid’s been able to see Ogunaro himself while he’s been over there, and let him see that Grimjaw’s doing well.
From what I can gather, the riding training is coming along well enough. No major snafus, at least. Gurtash has been taking Grimjaw for short practice rides around Orgrimmar when Kildan and the Kor’kron stable masters have had a free window to clear it. Sometimes a pass around Durotar when there’s time for a prolonged run. Seems to be good for the kid. Takes his mind off his other training problems and anything else he’s been carrying around lately.
As for those other training issues, I think I’ve got an idea. Stay tuned.
[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]
