Tag Archives: undercity
The Southshore Campaign
Garrosh just couldn’t seem to have any quiet time in Grommash Hold without some new task cropping up for him. If it wasn’t Eitrigg finding things for him to do, it was someone else from among his cast of minions…
Now, granted, you can hardly blame Garrosh for being a bit startled. This was taking place during Cataclysm, after all, so evidently Sylvanas was way, way ahead of the curve with the whole talking-head thing.
So Garrosh hopped the next zeppelin and headed to Eastern Kingdoms, where Sylvanas and her entourage were there to meet him with bad news for the living and dead alike…
Because seriously, that had been going on long enough.
Next up was a trip to the Apothecarium, where Garrosh first met Sylvanas’ head researcher, Master Apothecary Faranell.
A few awkwardly scripted interactions in the next room later…
And so, as per Faranell’s recommendation, Garrosh’s search for answers continued in Hillsbrad…
After many, many frustrating rounds of exhortations and beatings — which I won’t subject you to here — Garrosh was finally able to extract some information from a panicked Helcular: years ago, while still a living human, Helcular had seen a contingent from the Knights of the Silver Hand lurking around Southshore. Given the paladin order’s eventual interest in the Scourge, Garrosh concluded that there could be a link to the anti-plague. And considering the fact that, where the Silver Hand was concerned, Garrosh had an in right there on staff…
And look. A meeting took place. Words were exchanged. Many, many words. Spirits save us, so many words. And I’m simply not cruel enough to subject you to all of them here. Suffice to say that Garrosh ended up having to deploy Dontrag and Utvoch as part of an exit strategy. The main takeaway from the meeting — other than soul-crushing exhaustion — was that the Knights of the Silver Hand did indeed meet in Southshore some ten years ago to discuss the looming threat of the Scourge. Alexandros Mograine unveiled a magic crystal that would eventually be used to forge the Ashbringer — the ultimate weapon of the Light against undeath. The crystal, however, two of the knights had convinced Mograine to let them study the crystal for their own purposes, which led Garrosh, Mokvar, and Faranell to suspect there might be a connection to the current crisis in Southshore.
The only problem is, all relevant parties were now dead, leaving what seemed to be an equally dead trail for Garrosh and company to follow…
I had really wanted to cover this whole arc in this post, but this week got away from me a bit, so rather than make a late installment that much later, let’s toss up a “TO BE CONTINUED” here and resume our goofy walk down memory lane next time…
Oh, but also, since it’s kind of tradition at this point…
Daria’s Pro Tip for Dealing with Tirion #9: If someone else catches his attention, run — do not walk — out of the room. Do not look back. Do not feel remorse. It’s a hard, cruel world out there; better them than you.
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.]
Monday mailbag
Okay, people, seems like Shay’s guest mailbag from last time went over pretty well, so who knows, maybe I’ll do that again every so often. Not even with Shay, necessarily, because i don’t know how keen she would be to do those on a regular basis — as it is, I had to offer her a shopping trip in Silvermoon to get her to do that one, and there’s no fucking WAY I can afford to keep slinging those around on a monthly basis or whatever. But maybe every so often I can rope someone else into doing one, if you people have anyone else you might have questions for.
More importantly for right now, though, you’ve got the main event back, so let’s see what you peeps have on your minds this time around.
In my attempt to offer what seemed to me to be good advice to your beautiful and talented daughter, I believe I have offended her (and possibly you).
This troubles me, and I wish to offer to meet at your convenience to offer my personal apologies. (Lyssa doesn’t want me to go, but I think it the only proper thing to do.)
If there is any other service I may perform for you, please let me know, and until we meet, I remain your faithful follower,
–Sintra E’Drien of the Horde
Evidently, what you people have on your minds is how you can be even more exhausting than usual.
And I mean… you know what? This is just a textbook example. Because, look, Sintra, I know you mean well here, and you think you’re doing the right thing, and you’re trying to be nice, and all kinds of good crap like that, but just… fuck, you people are just so fucking high maintenance. Let’s just… look, apology accepted, okay? We’re all good. Well, I’m good. You want to take it up with Shay, go nuts, but don’t feel like you have to update me every step of the way. And if she looks at you funny or says something that makes you think she maybe had a TONE, just… just roll with it, okay? Don’t feel like you need to file a petition with the local notary public to declare every third Tuesday after a harvest moon factional What Can I Do To Make It Up To You Shayari Day.
For fuck’s sake, dude, it just never fucking ends.
And speaking of things that never end…
Anar’alah! Greetings yet again, most noble Warchief of the Horde!
Many thanks for the response! I was most gratified to receive an opportunity to contact your daughter directly! Although, given her response, (and yours, now I come to think of it) I’m not sure she’s too anxious to go on that “friend-date” you mentioned, anytime soon. I wonder what the problem could be. Although it is wonderful to see that she’s settling in rather well. I have to admit, I hadn’t expected that. Somehow, I always saw Nagrand as one of the most luxurious and leisurely places that could ever be. But I guess that when you’re poor, you see things differently. Orgrimmar may not be the prettiest place in the world, but I’m probably correct in saying that Shay has more now than she once did, with her father being the Warchief and all. So, for now, that’s certainly enough.
As for your own response, I am not related to Tirion or this Grottee Metalbeard fellow. Whatever made you suggest such a thing!? Perhaps I should remind you that I am an elf and Tirion is a human. And no, I am not HALF an elf. I’ve looked it all up, and I can’t possibly have fel-tainted eyes with two pupils, one green and one slightly lighter green, long ears and eyebrows, a slim and elf-like figure and the ability to produce arcane magic without being taught if I was half-elf. So, I am not related to Highlord Fordring in any way. I think. As for Grottee Metalbeard, I don’t know who that is! It sounds very gnomish. Or goblin? One or the other, anyway. Nobody else could possibly have “Metalbeard” as a last name without being a gnome or a goblin. And, seriously, I may be slightly shorter than the average height of a Blood Elf, but if you’re suggesting that I’m related to one of THOSE things…oh, no! Oh, and if Grottee’s reading this, don’t take it the wrong way. I just don’t like gnomes or goblins. And if you’re one of those delivery guy goblins, no, I’m NOT fucking tipping you! And while we’re also on the topic, “hooked up and gave birth to this letter”? That sentence, I must say, really put a horrifying image into my head. I mean, even worse than the Thalassian Brandy strutting through Hearthglen provocatively image. Because at least she’s GOOD LOOKING, you know!? And wow, is she good looking. I mean, sometimes I still ask myself if it was a dream. It probably was. Ha, good luck hoping, Sarlin. But Tirion Fordring and a GNOME? Or a goblin or WHATEVER. I would respectfully request that, in future, you refrain from planting such a horrific image in my head again. I still haven’t a clue as to how you got the idea that we were related.
Now. I feel good that that’s off my chest.
Yes, Twitter’s character limit has been a burden for quite some time now. It’s hard to elaborate and emphasize the more important things, such as the war efforts, gnoll necromancers, magi with weird hats, stupid mages who think it’s okay to polymorph random strangers whenever they want (that was no reference to Shayari, by the way!) and Light only knows what else with that limit in the way. I thought there would be a way to break it. Click the button with -284 characters and hope it would send. Impossible. It seems we live in a world where the only way forward is brevity. How unfortunate, would you not agree?
Shayari also told me that she occasionally ports back and forth to the Undercity for mage training. Which, I mean, I’m not concerned about THAT or anything, but do you really think it’s a good idea to get her so close to the Banshee Queen? I mean, I don’t know if I’d made it at all obvious but I don’t trust that woman! I mean, hey, at least I didn’t just say “No, I don’t LIKE her, therefore nobody else will!” Besides, who actually DOES like Sylvanas? I just wonder if she’d be, you know, in a stable enviroment if she was practicing how to conjure a mana cake table and Sylvanas decided to walk in and freak out because look, it’s a Draenei. I mean, she’s already made it pretty obvious taht she doesn’t like YOU. Sylvanas, I mean. Just something for you to ponder on. Oh, and if you’re wondering, no, I haven’t had any real personal meetings with Sylvanas. There was one when I was pretty young, before I joined the Argent Dawn, but that was myself and a few other young soldiers. She just yelled at us for not killing enough humans. I got off lightly, I hadn’t killed one. Nonetheless, I worry. We had enough mayhem with the Lich King. And if my sources tell me correctly, you see little difference between her and the Lich King. I trust you to make the right decision with regards to the subject.
Oh, and before I finish up, I just have to point out that I noticed a certain Pandaren named Ben-Lin Cloudstrider is hosting anger management classes! I didn’t know that you were thinking about adopting! To be honest, I couldn’t even imagine you wanting to have children! Although I’m likely right in assuming that when Shayari finally came into your life, you realized just how much you were missing. Being a father must be the most wonderful feeling in all worlds, wouldn’t you agree? It’s a shame that you lost seventeen years of poor Shay’s life, but you can make up for that now. Are you planning on adopting a baby? Wouldn’t it be just fine, to raise a child from before they’re even a year old! Quite frankly, my girlfriend and I have had thoughts of adopting, ourselves. We just want to travel a little bit more before we do so. And we’re still trying to work out which, uh, race to adopt. I was thinking maybe a High Elf, since they’re respected by the Kal’dorei (my girlfriend’s a Night Elf) and I’m quite fond of little High Elves, too. But that’s aside the point. Are you adopting a little orc or a little troll? Maybe even a little Blood Elf? Ha, I jest. They’re truly insufferable as children.
Back to the anger management class. Is Ben-Lin still doing those? Not that I have a HUGE anger problem, only sometimes I can be irrationally irate when the sounds of birds and flapping wings and even trickling water or the wind rustling grass or twigs, just the happy old noises, decide to all sound on what is known as “the morning after the night before”. Which often includes a LOT of alcohol. Mostly mead, although I do have a Gilnean friend who supplies me with brandy occasionally. It’s rather a strong beverage, I must say. Still, it’s fine for any occasion where you just want to get pissed out of your brains. But anyway! Yes, the only downside to consuming so much alcohol is the “morning after the night before” effect which is a bi-daily event where every aspect of nature comes together and floats around my sore head shrieking with voices like nails across a shield. I mean, I don’t mind birds, but when they annoy me like that, they just HAVE to fucking die, you know what I mean? And that’s the benefit of having a bow. You don’t have to throw your sword and hope it doesn’t miss. I have to say, it’s a pretty great release of anger. You know that rage that simply cannot be repressed? Birds always seem to know when I experience it, because they glide well into firing range when I do. Keep hush on this, but once, I was aiming for an annoying bird and shot it in the wing, only to find it was actually a troll in bird form. There’s a little Cenarian Circle camp nearby, so I guessed he was from that. Don’t worry, he made it, and I don’t think he saw me either! So anyway, I’ve had to clean up bird corpses a lot recently, only I haven’t been great at cleaning up the evidence, so there’s a small pile of dead birds behind Mardenholde Keep. With some incinerated kittens, also. And even some penguins that appear to have their skulls bashed in. I guess this is soon going to be the place where people drag the corpses of dead animals that end up falling to the blade of hangovers. And look, don’t worry about sponsors. I can always get my girlfriend to sponsor me. Or Daria L’Rayne, if she’s willing. Oh, and if you’re a little concerned about Daria, regarding my letter to Shayari, don’t worry. She doesn’t have anger issues, she just gets a bit irratable, but only during the days she’s on duty. I guess being advisor is pretty stressful. Anyhow, if I was to drag her along, rest assured, she’d be totally sober. Maybe. I mean, is alcohol allowed at these places? If so, well, I could always bring along some ale or something.
And hey, even if I can’t take part in the session, can you PLEASE just all have another one anyway!? Like, seriously! Do you have any fucking idea how FUNNY that was!? I mean, look, I always knew that Tirion drank quite a bit but I never actually could make sense of those corpses until I read that! Although I was a little disheartened when I went to tell everybody and they all already knew. I was like “Where the fuck was I for the last however long this has been going on for”? And oh my LIGHT, what is Mylune’s problem! I thought she loved animals! I mean, I haven’t met her many times but she does seem quite…uh, cuddly? I mean, I like hugs but gee, I think I like breathing more. Oh, heh, and I mentioned Lor’Themar to Shay, too. Tell me, was his hair perfect that day, too? Huh. He always did seem pretty calm to me. Just prissy as fuck, you know?
And also, if I might recommend it, maybe host the next one in that big gladiator’s or trial’s ring you got going on in Orgrimmar? You know, just so anybody who wants to come by for the giggles can do so. Look, I’ll stop with this suggesting nonsense and outright say that I WILL PAY YOU to do another. Even though you’re probably rich out now what with being Warchief and all. Still. I mean, if it helps, I’ll send over 10,000 gold and it might even feed a village of hungry peons, or maybe be enough to invent an elixir that will give them a brain.
I seem to have covered everything I’ve been wishing to bring up with you. I do hope that you don’t find any of this to be too demanding. I expect you have other issues to deal with besides the worries of a young Paladin, such as very incriminating photoes of dancing trolls or something. As opposed to “not so incriminating photoes”. Or “just slightly incriminating photoes”. The fel was up with THAT guy?
Oh, I did have a question! But fear not, I will be brief. What the fuck is up with Bob? Who even IS that guy? And what is his fucking PROBLEM!? Gee, I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s a troll and all (in EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD EVER) but whoa! I mean, c’mon. It’s not the just the harsh, real fact that he’s an asshole, but the more harrowing fact that he lacks a brain. The fuck. I mean, everybody KNOWS that the Lich King’s horse is “Invincible”. Invincible and INVISIBLE are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS! ARE YOU READING THIS, BOB!? YOU MIGHT LEARN A THING OR TWO! GRR, YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SO ANGRY.
Anyhow, I digress. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must replace this inkwell with a slightly larger one, since it only holds maybe just over half of the ink that I require to send out not just mailbag letters to the Horde’s Warchief, but also to stay in close contact with other friends and possibly relatives around Azeroth and Outland! It’s just rather a pain to refill it constantly.
Light’s blessing to you, noble Warchief of the Horde.
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker
I mean.
I literally don’t know how she does it. All I know is that by the time this last letter from Sarlin reached me, it had a petition attached to it, signed by nine ink vendors from all around Azeroth, asking me to declare a state of emergency due to the looming ink shortage.
But… okay… hello again, Sarlin. I see you still… have a lot on your mind. Again. So, um…
Okay, you know what? Let me just try to cover as much of this as I can, so she’ll at least have less ammunition for the NEXT time. Here goes.
Many thanks for the response! I was most gratified to receive an opportunity to contact your daughter directly! Although, given her response, (and yours, now I come to think of it) I’m not sure she’s too anxious to go on that “friend-date” you mentioned, anytime soon. I wonder what the problem could be.
Well, don’t let me speak for Shay, but it might have something to do with her irrational fear of having all the oxygen around her soaked up by a gaping vacuum of words words words, then suffocating helplessly, unable to cry out for help, because there are no words fucking left.
Orgrimmar may not be the prettiest place in the world, but I’m probably correct in saying that Shay has more now than she once did, with her father being the Warchief and all. So, for now, that’s certainly enough.
Apparently she had to leave most of her stuff behind when she left Dalaran. So…she actually doesn’t have more than she ever did, I don’t think, but…she’s working on it. I mean working HARD. Like really, REALLY hard. Let me put this in context for you: one of the perks of being Warchief is an unlimited credit account. Last week I got a notice from the goblin credit bureau that I was approaching my limit. Apparently, to teenage girls, infinity isn’t an abstraction — it’s a challenge.
As for your own response, I am not related to Tirion or this Grottee Metalbeard fellow. Whatever made you suggest such a thing!?
What indeed, Garrosh thought, realizing he wasn’t even 10% of the way into this letter yet.
Perhaps I should remind you that I am an elf and Tirion is a human. And no, I am not HALF an elf. I’ve looked it all up, and I can’t possibly have fel-tainted eyes with two pupils, one green and one slightly lighter green, long ears and eyebrows, a slim and elf-like figure and the ability to produce arcane magic without being taught if I was half-elf. So, I am not related to Highlord Fordring in any way. I think.
Oh no, you are related to him. Maybe not by blood, but you’re related.
You may not be kin, but you’re sure as hell kindred.
As for Grottee Metalbeard, I don’t know who that is! It sounds very gnomish. Or goblin? One or the other, anyway. Nobody else could possibly have “Metalbeard” as a last name without being a gnome or a goblin. And, seriously, I may be slightly shorter than the average height of a Blood Elf, but if you’re suggesting that I’m related to one of THOSE things…oh, no!
You’re a very literal person, Sarlin, anyone ever tell you that?
Also, just FYI, I’d lay even odds that Spazzle is tracking back your IP address as we speak. So if you’ve never loaded had your inbox flooded from porn mailing lists focusing on the lurid antics of THOSE THINGS… well, you’re probably about to.
Oh, and if Grottee’s reading this, don’t take it the wrong way. I just don’t like gnomes or goblins.
I don’t see how he could possibly take that the wrong way.
And while we’re also on the topic, “hooked up and gave birth to this letter”? That sentence, I must say, really put a horrifying image into my head. I mean, even worse than the Thalassian Brandy strutting through Hearthglen provocatively image. Because at least she’s GOOD LOOKING, you know!? And wow, is she good looking. I mean, sometimes I still ask myself if it was a dream. It probably was. Ha, good luck hoping, Sarlin. But Tirion Fordring and a GNOME? Or a goblin or WHATEVER. I would respectfully request that, in future, you refrain from planting such a horrific image in my head again.
You know what? You really started to save it. You looked like you were going to pull it back for a minute there, but then, nope, veered right on back to Tirion.
And for those of you wondering what she’s talking about with the whole Thalassian Brandy thing — OTHER THAN THE OBVIOUS — here, I refer you to a related question that Sarlin asked me on Ask.fm a good long while back. (I may dig up a few of my more memorable questions from that site to toss up here one of these days, too…)
Yes, Twitter’s character limit has been a burden for quite some time now. It’s hard to elaborate and emphasize the more important things, such as the war efforts,
The war effort goes well so far, despite occasional tactical setbacks. The Alliance has bought itself time, but their end is inevitable. FYV (140 characters)
gnoll necromancers,
Whoa, when the hell did gnolls learn how to be necromancers? Couldn’t Kel’Thuzard have left well enough alone? (110 characters)
magi with weird hats,
Yo, Mok, check out the stupid hat on that mage. Wait, what? Whose mother-in-law? Damn, sorry, dude. (99 characters)
stupid mages who think it’s okay to polymorph random strangers whenever they want (that was no reference to Shayari, by the way!)
I’m sure it wasn’t a reference to Faranell either, right? Methinks she dost protest too much. (93 characters)
and Light only knows what else with that limit in the way. I thought there would be a way to break it. Click the button with -284 characters and hope it would send. Impossible. It seems we live in a world where the only way forward is brevity. How unfortunate, would you not agree?
Yeah, I think you’re hitting pay dirt there, Sarls. Don’t know how we’re gonna get by. (86 characters)
Shayari also told me that she occasionally ports back and forth to the Undercity for mage training. Which, I mean, I’m not concerned about THAT or anything, but do you really think it’s a good idea to get her so close to the Banshee Queen? I mean, I don’t know if I’d made it at all obvious but I don’t trust that woman!
I don’t trust Sylvanas so much as I trust Shay’s right hook. I’d refer you to Faranell if you have any reservations about that one.
I mean, hey, at least I didn’t just say “No, I don’t LIKE her, therefore nobody else will!” Besides, who actually DOES like Sylvanas?
To be fair, I’m not necessarily the guy who should be coming down on someone for a poor showing in popularity contests.
Oh, and if you’re wondering, no, I haven’t had any real personal meetings with Sylvanas. There was one when I was pretty young, before I joined the Argent Dawn, but that was myself and a few other young soldiers. She just yelled at us for not killing enough humans.
See, right there. You just made me like Sylvanas. THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS TOO MANY DEAD HUMANS. Way to undercut your own point like two sentences later, Sarls. At this rate, you still have time to undercut at least six or seven thousand more assertions before this letter is over.
Oh, and before I finish up, I just have to point out that I noticed a certain Pandaren named Ben-Lin Cloudstrider is hosting anger management classes!
Well, Ben-Lin mostly counsels people one-on-one these days. She tried to hold a group session, but the class…didn’t go so great. At least according to most people, Ben included. Faranell, for some reason, still goes on about how awesome it was, but who knows what that guy’s thinking most days. Anyway, I can’t say for sure that Ben’s stopped the classes altogether, but I only ever went to that one.
I didn’t know that you were thinking about adopting! To be honest, I couldn’t even imagine you wanting to have children! Although I’m likely right in assuming that when Shayari finally came into your life, you realized just how much you were missing.
Um, no, I think you’re getting the order of events mixed up. I would have cut you a little slack there if you’d been one of the people caught up in all the damn time travel crap a little while back, both rounds of it — and holy crap do I never want to get mixed up with THAT kind of shit again — but as far as I know, you were just hanging out in Hearthglen all safe and secure.
But, okay, so the adoption thing was this idea I got into my head to maybe adopt Gurtash. He’d been hanging around Grommash Hold pretty regularly by then, and I was starting to work with him as a trainee, and I figured he was an orphan and all, what with his father having been killed in the line of duty up in Northrend, so I figured it might be good for me to just take him in outright. That was before Orphan Matron Battlewail decided to get all antsy and insisted I do the anger management class, and…well, that just got us into a big mess of red tape.
Anyway, that all got put on the backburner with everything going on in Pandaria, and then Shay turning up, and then the whole Mokvar thing and…you know, I don’t even want to get into it. Let’s just keep moving.
Being a father must be the most wonderful feeling in all worlds, wouldn’t you agree? It’s a shame that you lost seventeen years of poor Shay’s life, but you can make up for that now. Are you planning on adopting a baby?
I… no, no, I was never looking at adopting a baby. No babies. I had one specific kid in mind. How the hell did you read up on the adoption thing and miss the part where I specified who I was going to be adopting?
Are you adopting a little orc or a little troll? Maybe even a little Blood Elf? Ha, I jest. They’re truly insufferable as children.
I have bad news for you if you think that that’s specific to blood elf children.
Back to the anger management class. Is Ben-Lin still doing those?
Asked and answered, your honor.
Not that I have a HUGE anger problem, only sometimes I can be irrationally irate when the sounds of birds and flapping wings and even trickling water or the wind rustling grass or twigs, just the happy old noises, decide to all sound on what is known as “the morning after the night before”. Which often includes a LOT of alcohol.
I’m not completely sure what the fuck you’re talking about, but i’m beginning to get a vague sense that you and Tirion mesh well up there in Hearthglen in a variety of ways.
Mostly mead, although I do have a Gilnean friend who supplies me with brandy occasionally.
Thalassian, by any chance?
But anyway! Yes, the only downside to consuming so much alcohol is the “morning after the night before” effect which is a bi-daily event where every aspect of nature comes together and floats around my sore head shrieking with voices like nails across a shield. I mean, I don’t mind birds, but when they annoy me like that, they just HAVE to fucking die, you know what I mean? And that’s the benefit of having a bow. You don’t have to throw your sword and hope it doesn’t miss. I have to say, it’s a pretty great release of anger. You know that rage that simply cannot be repressed? Birds always seem to know when I experience it, because they glide well into firing range when I do.
I’m just going to tuck this little snippet away for the next time someone gets pissy with me about being grouchy and hostile with people.
And then I’m going to back away very, very carefully.
Keep hush on this, but once, I was aiming for an annoying bird and shot it in the wing, only to find it was actually a troll in bird form.
Heh. Hehehe. HeheheHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA hahaha…ha… heh…
BWAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! Heehee…
Okay… okay… moving on…
So anyway, I’ve had to clean up bird corpses a lot recently, only I haven’t been great at cleaning up the evidence, so there’s a small pile of dead birds behind Mardenholde Keep. With some incinerated kittens, also. And even some penguins that appear to have their skulls bashed in. I guess this is soon going to be the place where people drag the corpses of dead animals that end up falling to the blade of hangovers.
Is it bad that my first thought on reading that was that if, say, an anonymous note were to find its way to Mylune, directing her to go check out what’s behind Mardenholde Keep… oh man, the spectacle that might be to behold!
And hey, even if I can’t take part in the session, can you PLEASE just all have another one anyway!? Like, seriously! Do you have any fucking idea how FUNNY that was!? I mean, look, I always knew that Tirion drank quite a bit but I never actually could make sense of those corpses until I read that! Although I was a little disheartened when I went to tell everybody and they all already knew. I was like “Where the fuck was I for the last however long this has been going on for”? And oh my LIGHT, what is Mylune’s problem! I thought she loved animals! I mean, I haven’t met her many times but she does seem quite…uh, cuddly? I mean, I like hugs but gee, I think I like breathing more. Oh, heh, and I mentioned Lor’Themar to Shay, too. Tell me, was his hair perfect that day, too? Huh. He always did seem pretty calm to me. Just prissy as fuck, you know?
This has been an installment in the Last Year in Garrosh’s Life series. But, hey, as long as Sarlin is endorsing that little exercise in unanesthetized dental surgery, here, go back and relive all the fun.
And also, if I might recommend it, maybe host the next one in that big gladiator’s or trial’s ring you got going on in Orgrimmar? You know, just so anybody who wants to come by for the giggles can do so.
Yeah, I think someone already had that idea.
Look, I’ll stop with this suggesting nonsense and outright say that I WILL PAY YOU to do another. Even though you’re probably rich out now what with being Warchief and all. Still. I mean, if it helps, I’ll send over 10,000 gold and it might even feed a village of hungry peons, or maybe be enough to invent an elixir that will give them a brain.
<looks over bill from Shayari’s latest shopping trip>
I’m listening.
I swear, though, the way you’re going on about this is making me want to make this a Patreon perk for clearing some non-trivial threshold.
I seem to have covered everything I’ve been wishing to bring up with you.
OH THANK THE SPIRITS I THINK WE’RE COMING UP ON THE HOME FUCKING STRETCH
I do hope that you don’t find any of this to be too demanding.
I’ll let you know once I regain feeling in my left leg after stabbing it repeatedly to keep from losing consciousness every 37 words.
I expect you have other issues to deal with besides the worries of a young Paladin, such as very incriminating photoes of dancing trolls or something. As opposed to “not so incriminating photoes”. Or “just slightly incriminating photoes”. The fel was up with THAT guy?
It’s funny you should ask. “That guy” just had another message delivered by courier:
It has come to my attention that both yourself and your daughter have been subjected to interminable, inane babbling in letter form from a young blood elf paladin in the service of Tirion Fording. Having reviewed her messages, I wish to know: what on Azeroth is UP with this chick?
–A Humble Peon
I wish I fucking knew, AHP. I wish I fucking well knew.
Oh, I did have a question!
I swear, it’s like the letter equivalent of one of those Earth Online machinimas, where you keep thinking the serial killer is finally dead, and HE KEEPS GETTING BACK UP AND COMING AFTER YOU SOME MORE.
But fear not, I will be brief.
Lady, the train left that station somewhere in the middle of volume three.
What the fuck is up with Bob? Who even IS that guy? And what is his fucking PROBLEM!? Gee, I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s a troll and all (in EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD EVER) but whoa! I mean, c’mon. It’s not the just the harsh, real fact that he’s an asshole, but the more harrowing fact that he lacks a brain. The fuck. I mean, everybody KNOWS that the Lich King’s horse is “Invincible”. Invincible and INVISIBLE are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS! ARE YOU READING THIS, BOB!? YOU MIGHT LEARN A THING OR TWO! GRR, YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SO ANGRY.
You know, I can’t believe she’s actually making me contemplate the phrase “worth the wait,” but if this is how she’s finishing up, I hate to say it, but it really might be. BECAUSE FUCK YOU, BOB. Troll? Check. Asshole? Check? GODDAMN FUCKING IDIOT? Hell yes and triple check. PREACH, SISTER, PREACH.
Anyhow, I digress. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must replace this inkwell with a slightly larger one, since it only holds maybe just over half of the ink that I require to send out not just mailbag letters to the Horde’s Warchief, but also to stay in close contact with other friends and possibly relatives around Azeroth and Outland! It’s just rather a pain to refill it constantly.
And look at that, two more signatures for that petition from the ink vendors.
Meanwhile, I just had another message come in by courier. Apparently the night elves are declaring war on Sarlin for the sheer number of forests she’s singlehandedly leveled in order to supply herself with enough paper for these letters. And I quote: “We feel we may have misjudged your Warsong clan in focusing the brunt of our ire on their logging activities; clearly we were overlooking the true, direr threat.”
Still, feel free to scrape a few more pages out of Ashenvale, if you ask me. Just make sure you scrape some of the glitter off those trees before you start pulping. Thalassian Brandi could probably use it.
Fucking hell, though. Okay, let’s see what else we’ve got.
Sir, if somehow somewhere the f-word was banned and a spell kept anyone and everyone (including you) from saying it, what would you do? Would you be able to carry on a conversation or get mad without ever saying it or would this cause a cataclysmic event of Garrosh proportions?
–Ruekie
PS: This goes for shit too. I mean the S- word!
Well, Rook, in the unlikely event that something like that ever happened, I suppose I would have to do the adult, responsible thing. Which means, of course, that I would hunt down the fucking fucknose motherfucker who cast that fucking spell, grab them by their fucking neck, then beat some goddamn fucking sense into their stupid fuckwit ass until they turned that motherfucking spell the fuck OFF. That’s what the fuck I’d do, dammit.
And shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits, while we’re at it.
Censorship fucking sucks, kids. Fight the power.
Mogor glad you got people working on it. Elements still not happy, so Mogor hope they work fast. Still, Mogor happy to find other fun things. Lantresor not writing in this time. Lantresor say he has a “secret mission” to take care of. Mogor not get it, but Lantresor smart orc. He not in trouble.
Mogor write in to give you battle report. Mogor and some ogres of Burning Skull went south to swamp, hung out with Stonemaul ogres. Mogor met Draz’Zilb. Draz’Zilb so smart. He working on potion, will make Mogor smarter, stop heads arguing and big words confusing Mogor. Anyway, we hang out in swamp until funny pinkskins arrive, attack village. Mogor think Mogor saw green shirt with yellow anvil on pinkskins, but memory fuzzy. Draz’Zilb say they sent by the Allianz. More come, too many to fight all at once, but Mogor set trap in trees near village. Mogor and ogres climbed big tree and hung in branches; when pinkskins approached Mogor and ogres, we let go of branches, fall down on them. We got the drop on them, ha!
Draz’Zilb say he continue to work on potion and Mogor should write to tell you about attack. Draz’Zilb expect pinkskins come back with even more next time. Mogor disappointed; the Allianz tougher in Mogor’s younger days. Now they all numbers, no brains. Not like orcs. Not like ogres.
That all for now. Mogor see you next time.
–Mogor the Ogre
Oh, hey, Mogor. The Ogre.
Um.
…
Yeah, sorry, I needed to take a second to wonder what happened to my life that these are the conversations I end up having. Anyway.
So… yeah, it’s good that you got over your little elemental hissy fit. You keep on listening to Lantresor, Mogor. The…ogre. Or…or, yeah, better yet, keep hanging out down in Brackenwall Village. You’ll probably feel right at home there, what with all the other mogor–ogres. OGRES.
…
<sigh>
I swear there was a point in my life when it wasn’t a giant fucking cartoon.
Anyway, continuing on.
That’s good that you’re spending some time with Draz’Zilb down there. I haven’t talked to him in a while, but he was always pretty sharp, so he’s probably going to be able to help you with the– wait.
Hang on.
You mean to tell me… Draz’Zilb’s got a potion he can cook up…that makes a pair of bickering heads stop yammering, and shut up and get along, and stop being fucking stupid and confused all the time? DUDE ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT MOFO’S BEEN SITTING ON A FUCKING DONTRAG AND UTVOCH ANTIDOTE ALL THIS TIME AND HE HASN’T FUCKING TOLD ME???!! ARE YOU SHITTING ME??!!!
OKAY, so HERE’S what you’re gonna do, Mogor the ogre — you’re going to fucking FOLLOW Draz’Zilb’s ass around and stay after him until he whips up a GIANT SIZED dose of that potion of his, and then you’re going to get the BIGGEST FUCKING BARREL YOU CAN FIND, and LOAD IT UP WITH AS MUCH OF THAT POTION AS IT’LL HOLD, AND THEN YOU’RE GOING TO HIGH-TAIL IT BACK TO ORGRIMMAR WITH THAT SHIT. THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING DO, MOGOR.
…
THE OGRE.
<sigh>
More soon. When I can stomach it.
[As always, keep those letters coming! Next mailbag November 2! E-mail the Warchief using the link at the top of the right sidebar, or use the handy form below:]
Keep your friends close
So I guess Spazzle already filled you guys in on the Gurtash thing. No new developments on that front so far. The healers say that the kid’s either going to come around on his own, or not come around at all, which personally I think is a big huge CYA measure on their part, but they’re the healers and I’m not so I guess I might as well give it a few more days before I start smacking people around.
In other news, I’m making some changes to Shayari’s mage training plan. She’s still going to be studying with Faranell over in the Undercity, but I decided that there wasn’t much need for her to LIVE over there permanently. For one, she IS a mage, so she can just teleport over where when she has lessons, and besides, based on recent experience…I mean…good fucking luck getting her to STAY there if she’s gotten it into her head that she doesn’t want to. It’s just easier this way.
So in related news, when I got in touch with Faranell about the revised plan for Shay, he decided it was a good time to hit me up with the estimate for whatever the hell he needs to have done to his jaw after Shay clocked him, or whatever the fuck happened. Then, as if all of this hadn’t put me in a great enough mood already, it just so happened that THAT’s the moment when the bill for that shopping trip Liadrin took Shay on came in, and HOLY FUCKING SHIT ARE YOU KIDDING ME. That hyacinth macaw of hers better fucking well shit GOLD, is all I’m saying. Are kids ALWAYS this expensive?! Fucking hell, this is going to clear out the bank in no time flat at this rate. Nice job, doeling. Yeesh.
Anyhow. In OTHER other news, now that Mokvar’s mostly accounted for himself, it’s time he got back on the job and made himself useful. Which as you can imagine made everyone in the war room pleased as punch. And by “punch” I mean “panda punching Varian in the fucking face”…
Because some shit just never gets old. Heh. Hehehehe…
Anyway. Yeah. Smiles all around for Mokvar’s return to Grommash Hold.
MALKOROK: Sir! With all due respect, you can’t be serious!
EITRIGG: You’re lifting the banishment?!
MALKOROK: You can’t possibly intend to allow this…this treasonous dog back into your council chamber!
MOKVAR: Uh, yeah, nice to see you guys, too.
EITRIGG: Garrosh, I don’t understand. After everything that happened with Mokvar, after his conspiring with Magatha, for spirits’ sake—
GARROSH: Look, I understand why you banished him while I was away, Eitrigg. I’m not lifting it now because it was the wrong call at the time. If I’d been here, I probably would have done the same thing myself.
EITRIGG: Then why, Garrosh?
MALKOROK: I’m not usually inclined to agree with the old man, Warchief, but once he’s right. Why would you restore this—
GARROSH: BECAUSE, you two, Mokvar’s managed to account for himself to my satisfaction, and—
MALKOROK: Sir, whatever lies this traitor has told you—
GARROSH: Are MINE to judge, Malkorok, not yours. I believe he’s telling me the truth.
Garrosh looks over at Mokvar, then back to Malkorok.
Enough of it, at least. Besides…I have good reason to believe that Mokvar has access to…certain resources that could be of great tactical benefit to us.
EITRIGG: Warchief…?
MALKOROK: I find it hard to believe he possesses anything that our forces—
GARROSH: You remember the Divine Bell, Malk? What a smashing success that whole grand finale was? Suffice to say, during his reintroduction to the warlock world, Mokvar found something that could have swung that whole fiasco in our favor.
Eitrigg slumps back in his chair uncomfortably. While Malkorok and Garrosh continue, Taktani bounces into the room, with Shayari following behind.
MALKOROK: Assuming he’s not making up the entire st—
GARROSH: <pointing back at his throne> DO YOU WANT TO SIT IN THIS CHAIR?
TAKTANI: <hopping onto the throne happily> Oooh, I do, Mr. Warchief! Yay! It looks comfy!
Garrosh looks back at Taktani, rubs his forehead, then turns back to Malkorok (who suddenly looks much more exhausted than he did just a moment ago).
GARROSH: Look, Malk. I’ve made my decision. And if you don’t think it’s the right one, then guess what? I’ve still made my decision, and I don’t want to hear any more about it. Mokvar’s banishment is lifted, and I’m reinstating him to scribe duties.
TAKTANI: <sprawling back on the throne and waving one paw around> I’m the Warchief-chief! Yay! Lemon squares or death! Hee hee!
GARROSH: Besides, would you really rather have HER staying on indefinitely?
MALKOROK: You…may have a point, sir.
TAKTANI: Aww don’t be grumpy, Mr. Malky! No grumpies allowed! <waving her paw around more> Off with his head! Tee hee!
GARROSH: TAK.
TAKTANI: Ooh! Okay! Right, Mr. Warchief, sir!
Taktani hops off the throne and bounces over to the council table.
GARROSH: Mokvar, this is Taktani. She’s been filling in for you while you’ve been away. Well, splitting time with… Uh, anyway, she’s been filling in as a scribe.
TAKTANI: <bouncing up onto the council table and leaning in close to Mokvar> Hiiiiii Mr. Mokvar! It’s nice to meet you!
GARROSH: She used to write in to the blog before you went AWOL, remember?
TAKTANI: I’ve heard so much about you, Mr. Mok-Mok! I’m sure the nice things are true!
MOKVAR: I— wait, you mean she’s real?
MALKOROK: Unfortunately.
TAKTANI: You’re so grumpy, Mr. Malky! I bet you just need a big hug!
MALKOROK: Don’t you dare even think of—
TAKTANI: Again!
MALKOROK: Warchief!
GARROSH: Rein it in, Tak.
MOKVAR: Okay, you know, she’s a little hyper for my tastes, but I think she’s starting to grow on me all the same.
SHAYARI: Chuckles really does bring out the best in people, doesn’t he?
GARROSH: Huh— oh, hey, Shay.
SHAYARI: Hey. <scanning the table> Hey, Beardy. Chuckles. Other Old Guy I Don’t Know.
GARROSH: Oh, yeah, you never met Eitrigg, did you?
SHAYARI: I think you mentioned him to me. But yeah.
GARROSH: He’s Ariok’s old man, if that helps any.
SHAYARI: Ohh, okay. So you’re kind of Grayscale Senior. I guess that makes you…what, sepia, sort of?
EITRIGG: …Warchief?
GARROSH: <sighs> Yeah, okay. So. Eitrigg, this is Shayari. She’s…my daughter.
Eitrigg stares blankly for a full minute.
TAKTANI: Mr. Warchief? Is Mr. Eatery okay?
GARROSH: Eitrigg?
EITRIGG: <blinks> I… I’m sorry, Garrosh. I think my brain might have just stroked off there for a moment. Did you just say…?
GARROSH: She’s my daughter. Yeah.
MALKOROK: Supposedly.
SHAYARI: I know, Chuckles, I’m too good for a lot of people to believe.
EITRIGG: <gesturing bewilderedly toward Shayari> But… but Warchief… how…?
GARROSH: Dude, do I really have to work it out for you?
SHAYARI: #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh, am I right?
EITRIGG: I…oh…well… <gathers himself, turns to Shayari> It’s a pleasure, Miss Shayari.
SHAYARI: Thanks, Grampa Sepia. Oh, and if your boy mentions anything about livestock, I don’t know anything about it.
MALKOROK: Warchief, is there a reason why your…offspring is barging in on our meeting?
TAKTANI: Aw, Mr. Malky, why can’t you be friendly? You should smile more!
MALKOROK: That’s enough from you, druid!
MOKVAR: Yeah. I definitely think I’m starting to like her.
SHAYARI: Oh, don’t sweat it, Tak. Guy Smiley here’s just pissy ’cause I’m a walking, talking reminder that Pops has gotten laid more recently than him.
TAKTANI: Huh?
MALKOROK: Draenei, I—
GARROSH: Malk, zip it.
MOKVAR: And I know I’m starting to like her.
GARROSH: Come to think of it, though, what ARE you doing here, Shay?
SHAYARI: I’m just checking to see how long Tak’s going to be busy with the meeting.
GARROSH: Uh, not long. It’s going to be a pretty short one today. Why?
SHAYARI: Nothing huge. When she’s done, I was going to port us up to Silvermoon to do some shopping. I can kill a little time, though. I’ll just be over at Kodohide’s, ’kay, Tak? I can check out the leather jackets while you do your thing.
TAKTANI: Okay! I’ll come find you!
GARROSH: Hang on – SHOPPING? We just moved like five huge cases of yours back from the Undercity. Don’t you have ENOUGH stuff?
SHAYARI: <walking toward the door> That’s cute, Pops. “Enough stuff.” You’re adorable. Later, Tak! Oh, and Chuckles?
Malkorok looks up.
Don’t forget: being a walking bag of hyena urine is something most people couldn’t carry off, but you, sir…are no exception. Toodles!
Shayari exits.
GARROSH: <rubbing his forehead> I can already tell I’m going to have to start making withdrawals from the bank, aren’t I…
MOKVAR: You know what? I’m going to skip right past “like” and say I’m starting to love her.
EITRIGG: She does have a certain infectious charm.
GARROSH: Okay, so…
TAKTANI: Should I start scribing now, Mr. Warchief?
GARROSH: Ah. Well, no, Tak. See, you were filling in for Mokvar, and he’s back now, so he’s going to be taking over again.
TAKTANI: Oh…
Taktani looks back and forth between Garrosh and Mokvar.
You don’t want me to be your scribe anymore?
Taktani makes big, sad kitty eyes.
Did I do bad?
GARROSH: Oh geez.
MALKOROK: <rubbing his forehead> Merciful spirits….
GARROSH: Ugh… Look, Tak, you—
MOKVAR: Garrosh?
GARROSH: Hmm?
MOKVAR: You know, while I get reacclimated, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to let her stay on for a little while, just to make sure I don’t miss anything in my notes.
Taktani’s face lights up, and she turns to Garrosh hopefully.
GARROSH: Oh for… Yeah. Fine. Whatever. You’re already here, so you might as well stick around for today anyway.
TAKTANI: YAY!!
MALKOROK: <glaring at Mokvar> Scribe, what in hellfire are you doing?
Taktani hops gleefully into a chair next to Malkorok. Mokvar tilts his head to one side, watching her, then smirks at Malkorok.
GARROSH: Okay…so, getting down to actual business, finally.
TAKTANI: Yay!
GARROSH: TAK.
TAKTANI: Oops! Sorry, Mr. Warchief sir!
Taktani makes an exaggerated zipping movement in front of her mouth, then stifles a giggle.
GARROSH: So. Moving on.
MALKOROK: Warchief, with your approval, I’d like to add a few additional patrols around the read gate.
GARROSH: Is there a problem?
MALKOROK: Just a precaution. I’ve gotten reports of some minor oddities around the Valley of Honor. I’d just like to make sure there isn’t anything to be concerned about.
GARROSH: Fine. Do what you need to do.
MALKOROK: Yes, sir.
GARROSH: Now for more important business. Mokvar, what’s our next step on your sha project?
EITRIGG: Garrosh…
MOKVAR: I’ll need to see some of these sha in person. This isn’t going to be exactly the same as dominating demons, so I’ll need to start small and work out the bugs.
GARROSH: Fine. I’ll be heading back to Pandaria in a couple weeks. You’ll come with me, and we’ll take it from there.
EITRIGG: Garrosh, I don’t like the sound of dabbling further with these sha—
GARROSH: Your objections are noted and inconsequential.
MOKVAR: That should work out. I have a few things I wanted to check on in Pandaria anyway.
GARROSH: In the meantime, I want you to check in with a few people as well, on a couple different fronts.
MOKVAR: What’s that?
GARROSH: For one, I want you to go see Overseer Elaglo. He and Xorenth are working on a few things down in Ragefire Chasm that I think you might be able to help with.
MOKVAR: Okay. What are they working on?
GARROSH: They’ll fill you in when you get down there. And while you’re down that way, I want you to touch base with Neeru Fireblade in the Cleft of Shadow.
MOKVAR: Uh… you want me to… why?
GARROSH: Because given what went down with him before you starting going all off-hinge, I think he’d be pretty damn interested in the fact that you’ve got yourself a new toy.
MOKVAR: Well, yeah, I’m sure he would, but I was figuring I’d probably be better off keeping CLEAR of him about that. Why even let him know I have the—
GARROSH: Because knowing will get his curiosity up. And you know what curiosity did to the cat.
Garrosh looks to a suddenly nervous-looking Taktani.
Not you, Tak.
Taktani lets out a relieved sigh while Garrosh turns back to Mokvar.
I doubt that he’s going to want to trust you, considering everything that’s gone on. But I’m betting curiosity about what you’ve been up to, and your shiny new doodad in particular, is going to be too much for him to resist. So I want you to dangle it in front of him, and see if you can get in good with him.
MOKVAR: <nodding slowly> And then I report back to you.
GARROSH: And then you report back to me. We know Neeru’s up to something, but so far he’s been careful. But YOU…well, what you bring to the table might mean just enough for his demonic interests to bring him out. I know we can’t trust him, so I want someone keeping him close.
MOKVAR: Got it. I’ll do what I can. When should I head over?
GARROSH: No time like the present. You might as well head over. I already told Elaglo and Xorenth you’d be by sometime today.
MOKVAR: Okay, chief. I’ll get the records written up and posted for you later today.
GARROSH: Yeah, that’s fine.
Mokvar gathers up his documents and walks toward the door.
<talking over one shoulder without turning around> And Mokvar.
Mokvar stops in the doorway and looks back.
It’s good to have you back.
Mokvar hasn’t gotten back from the Cleft of Shadow yet, but when he does, hopefully there’ll be some good news. In the meantime, I’m going to talk to Spazzle about putting some filters on the blog. Some posts, at least. It’s good having these records here, but we’re going to want to start limiting who can see certain information. You guys are all cool, don’t worry. But some of this stuff…yeah, we’re going to need to be a little more careful. Especially if things start lining up like I think.
More soon.
ADDENDUM FROM TAKTANI’S NOTES:
(Mr. Mokvar left.)
MALKOROK – Warchief, I still object to you trusting that scribe after his treasonous conduct. Especially with these kinds of sensitive matters.
GARROSH – Malk, do you not listen to any fucking thing that I say?
MALKOROK – Warchief?
GARROSH – Did you miss what I told him about keeping someone who can’t be trusted close, so we can keep an eye on him?
MALKOROK – No, sir, I heard you, but—
GARROSH – Did you think I was only talking about Fireblade?
(Malkorok became still a moment, thinking, then gave a slow nod.)
MALKOROK – Yes, sir. I think I understand. I…wouldn’t have thought of that, sir.
GARROSH – (nodding back) That’s why I’m in charge.
The scouring of the Spire
So, we were right about Ji heading down here to the Burning Steppes. Only trouble is, by the time we landed at Flame Crest, he’d already come and gone. (Boy, it sure is a shame we didn’t get down here faster, like, say, if SOMEBODY hadn’t wasted shitloads of time fucking doodling.) And yeah, he hooked up with Eitrigg’s son Ariok when he got here, and I guess the two of them took off to check out Blackrock Mountain. And yeah, that’s one MORE thing I might have to smack Eitrigg around over when we get back home, because fucking hell.
I headed over to Blackrock Mountain with Spazzle and Gurtash, and after some initial ohh’ing and ahh’ing from the noobs, we headed into Blackrock Spire. It was a weird thing — I’d poked my nose in here once before, back when I was rounding up the Blackrock orcs (Malkorok included) when I brought them into the Horde, but this was different. Now the place was like the haunted house version of Blackrock Spire. Every few rooms we ran into these reanimated, undead versions of the drakonids and dragonspawn that used to hang out here back in the day, back before the Black Dragonflight got cleaned out. Well, they were back for an encore now, at least some of them, at least in fairly diminished form. Don’t know what’s causing it, but I can tell you it’s creepy as well.
Mind you, none of that really mattered once I chopped them into pieces every time any of them got in our way. But still.
We poked around the spire some, and finally, a fair ways in, we finally stumbled onto the guests of honor themselves — Ji and Ariok, poking around in some kind of summoning chamber. Apparently they found some kind of ritual altar there that Lunchbox seemed sure had some connection to…you know, I’m still not even sure about the details. Something about the dragon guy that was in the middle of Mokvar’s whole deal. I wasn’t in much of a mood to listen to that crap, but Ji was focused on the damn altar like he thought it was a pork chop, and then Ariok started chiming in with HIS two coppers, and hoo boy were we off to the races then, what with the bitching and the complaining. You know, the Anytime Somebody Talks to Garrosh These Days special.
Anyhow, we went round and round a few times, and to tell you the truth, I was just about to throw my hands up and let the idiot poke around the damn altar just to shut them up, when we started hearing more snarling and growling from those dragon-zombie-whatever-the-fucks from down the hall. Then sounds of combat, and general rattling around, and then, before we even had a chance to go check out what the hell was going on, well…
You know, I’m not sure if I want to kill her or if I’m starting to like her.
Anyway, by that point, Shayari was already right there, so I figured I might as well let her go ahead and see if she can figure anything out about the damn altar, and maybe satisfy everybody’s morbid curiosity about the whole Mokvar thing. Plus, you know, good luck getting her to NOT do something, because, hey, maybe I’ve mentioned this already, fucking hell.
[Notes and Notables: As I announced a few posts ago, I’m going to be taking a short break from posting, but rest assured that I will be using a not-inconsiderable portion of that time getting things lined up for the next sequence of posts. The always preposterous and sometimes exciting adventures of everyone’s favorite some people’s favorite the Warchief will continue with “Scene of the Crime” on Wednesday, May 21.
Also, a Shayari fashion note: The sharp-eyed among you will recognize Shayari’s outfit in this post as the “Indiana Shay” outfit submitted by Malauch in the Transmogs for Shay contest. Malauch was one of our five voters’ choice contestants; I’d never actually announced a final winner on that front, but that was in large part because the polling ended up being an endless back-and-forth between Maualch’s entry and Khizzara’s “Scarlet Sindorei Robe.” So, since I’m only too happy to have a wealth of mage looks (and happy readers!), I’m going to go ahead and (belatedly) declare both Malauch and Khizzara winners in a dead heat. Grats to all our winners, thanks to all who submitted and voted, and by all means keep an eye out for more stylish looks from our resident half-draenei mage in training!]
A problem like Shayari
So, Faranell was still working on his tests when I went to see him. I figured I’d leave him alone so he could concentrate on his work rather than, you know, concentrate on making smartass comments. Anyway.
In the meantime, I’ve been trying to finish up these meetings. I had a conference earlier today with Overseer Elaglo about his new duties “helping” Eitrigg with things. Eitrigg didn’t sound too thrilled about the new arrangements, but it’s not like he’s got much to say in the matter. Didn’t stop him from saying a few things on his way out, though. Anyhow, we also had Xorenth in to go over the details of another project I’ve got him and Elaglo collaborating on. Taktani sat in on the meeting – she managed to keep herself mostly reined in, by some miracle – but for the time being I’m going to hold off on posting those transcripts. Most of them, anyway. Some of the operations we were going over are fairly sensitive, so I don’t think I want to go announcing them on the blog.
As opposed to all the other highly sensitive, top secret stuff I casually write about here on practically a daily basis, right? Like, oh, I don’t know, evidently being the surprise dad of a half-draenei teenager, for instance. Pending confirmation, anyway. Oh well. It’s all among friends here, I guess. Anyway.
Speaking of the pending confirmation, though…over to the de-classified part of Tak’s handiwork…
(How about here, Mr. Warchief? Oh good! Now it’s okay to start copying the meeting. I like this part better anyway, there’s not as much talking about the angry fire cave. I don’t think I would like it there. It sounds scary! Oh okay, I guess I’m taking too long to get to the meeting.
I guess I’ll start with the part where Mr. Malkorok came in. Don’t worry, though, he doesn’t stay long!)
MALKOROK – Warchief, you have visitors waiting outside. The elf and the undead want to see you.
GARROSH – Ah. They’re a little early, but whatever. Let them in.
MALKOROK – Yes sir.
(Mr. Malkorok stepped outside, then came back in with Ms. Liadrin and Dr. Zombie.)
LIADRIN – Good morning, Warchief. I hope we’re not interrupting.
GARROSH – It’s fine. We’re close to done here. In fact, I think you guys are set with your orders.
ELAGLO – Yes, sir. I still need to check with the excavation crew.
XORENTH – And I’m fairly sure Kardris and Koranathal wanted to see me about something.
GARROSH – I’ll let you get to it, then. I’ll check in with you later.
(Mr. Elaglo and Mr. Xorenth got up and started to head toward the door.)
LIADRIN – I hope we’re not rushing you gentlemen off. I don’t believe we’ve met, actually. (extending her hand) I’m Lady Liadrin, of the Blood Knights of Silvermoon.
ELAGLO – So you are.
(Mr. Elaglo and Mr. Xorenth kept walking to the door and left. That didn’t seem very nice!)
LIADRIN – Well then.
(Mr. Warchief watched Mr. Elaglo and Mr. Xorenth, then kept watching the door for a minute before turning back to Ms. Liadrin.)
GARROSH – Okay. So, do we have news?
LIADRIN – Dr. Faranell has finished his tests, yes sir.
GARROSH – And?
FARANELL – Congratulations. It’s a girl. (holding out a cigar) Here, have a cigar.
(Mr. Warchief looked at Dr. Zombie kind of funny, then went back to talking. I guess Mr. Warchief doesn’t smoke. That’s good!)
GARROSH – You’re sure?
FARANELL – The results were pretty clear-cut. (shrugs) You’re sure you don’t want the cigar? Seems a shame to waste it, on top of all that perfectly good ichor from the test.
LIADRIN – I must admit, sir, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised.
GARROSH – You kind of had that vibe from Shayari from the start, huh?
LIADRIN – After a fashion, sir.
FARANELL – Good call. Cigar?
LIADRIN – (sighing) No, Doctor.
GARROSH – So that’s that… She’s settled in okay?
LIADRIN – More or less, sir. Though now I suppose we’re left with a few more questions to address about her situation.
GARROSH – Yeah.
LIADRIN – No doubt you’ll have security matters for you and…the overlord to consider.
GARROSH – For the time being, I want to stay pretty selective about who knows…well, who she really is.
LIADRIN – Fairly prudent, I suppose, sir. For now, at least. I would imagine there will be more than a few questions raised as she’s seen around Orgrimmar, of course.
GARROSH – I can deal with those. The questions… (nodding to Malkorok) …and anyone who starts getting too nosy.
MALKOROK – I have ears in many corners of the city, Warchief. I’ll be sure to find out if anyone is…unduly curious.
GARROSH – Good.
FARANELL – Good indeed. Here, have a cigar.
(Mr. Malkorok glared at Dr. Zombie and grumbled a little.)
FARANELL – Cigar? No? No one?
GARROSH – Will you knock if off with the damn cigar!
MALKOROK – If you’ll…excuse me, Warchief, I’ll be outside…
(Mr. Malkorok grumbled a little more and left. Yay!)
FARANELL – Oh well, fine. More for me, then.
TAKTANI – You really shouldn’t smoke, Dr. Zombie! It’s bad for you!
FARANELL – Hello? Already-dead guy.
GARROSH – Tak, just stick to copying down the conversation, not joining it.
(I was just trying to help! =( )
LIADRIN – If I might make a further suggestion, sir, I’ve been considering the matter of Shayari’s ongoing education. As you may recall, she was studying to be a mage in Dalaran when the purge took place.
GARROSH – Huh. Well, we have trainers here, and I could probably have Ureda get her in with the newest shadowmages, but to tell you the truth, I don’t know if I want her hanging around too much down in the Cleft of Shadow.
LIADRIN – It is, I’ve heard, something of an unsavory area, sir.
GARROSH – Among other things. So anyway, you had an idea?
LIADRIN – Yes, sir. I thought it might be preferable to entrust her training to someone more familiar to us. I’ve spoken to Dr. Faranell about the matter, and he’s expressed his willingness to take Shayari on as an apprentice.
FARANELL – You left out the part about my extortionate fee.
GARROSH – Huh. Are you sure you’d be up for a job like that, Doc? I mean, no offense, but you never really struck me as a particularly powerful mage.
FARANELL – I’m not, really. I’m not bad, mind you, but I’m nothing special. Still, for training purposes, especially for the early stage Shayari’s at, high-end power isn’t nearly as important as a good knowledge base.
LIADRIN – Which is an area in which we’re actually…particularly fortunate to have a resource as rare as the good doctor.
FARANELL – Fortunate for the rest of you, anyway.
GARROSH – Uh, why’s that? I mean I know you’re a smart guy and all, Doc, but what’s so rare about him?
LIADRIN – Well, Warchief, as you might recall, Dr. Faranell was blessed with an eidetic memory.
FARANELL – Oh yes. Blessed.
LIADRIN – As such, he has a near-perfect retention of virtually every magic sourcebook he’s read. And that particular capacity was… well… augmented by one of the peculiarities of Dr. Faranell’s personal history.
FARANELL – Is that what we’re calling it now? A peculiarity?
LIADRIN – There aren’t many terms that lend themselves readily.
GARROSH – Are you two going to finish explaining this, or do I have to start guessing what the hell you’re talking about?
FARANELL – The time loop.
GARROSH – I… Oh.
LIADRIN – Yes sir. I’m sure I needn’t remind you of the closed temporal loop Dr. Faranell sealed himself in last year.
GARROSH – Yeah, oddly enough, I remember, even without the doc’s super-memory. It was kind of a big deal.
LIADRIN – Indeed, sir. As it happens…well, Doctor, I imagine you can explain better than I could.
FARANELL – Yeah, so. You know that while I was in the time loop, I kept reliving the same 11-year period over and over. Only the thing is, each time around, I experienced that repetition individually. So if I went around five times, it wasn’t like I experienced it once and it kept repeating without my knowing – I was aware of each time through, and knew, okay, this is pass #5.
GARROSH – Yeah, I remember that part. And you ended up going around…crap, how many times was it?
FARANELL – 2,734. I was in the middle of number 2,735 when I got snapped out of it again.
GARROSH – Holy shit.
FARANELL – Holy shit indeed. Anyway, though, the point of all this is that every cycle through, I had to repeat all the things I’d originally done in that timeline, obviously, so as not to disrupt history—
GARROSH – Well, other than how you DID disrupt history, and, y’know, almost destroyed the world in the process.
FARANELL – Yes, there’s that, but nobody’s perfect. Even me. One thing that I realized fairly early on, though, was that even though I had to preserve all the things I was supposed to do in those years, there was also an awful lot of down time when it really didn’t matter what I was doing. Nights when I was alone by myself at home, for instance – it really didn’t matter if I spent the time, say, doing a crossword puzzle or playing solitaire, since it would literally affect no one other than me.
GARROSH – Dude, seriously? Crossword puzzles and solitaire? Please tell me that’s not what you really spent your nights doing.
FARANELL – No, but I didn’t think “designing more virulent strains of plague” rolled off the tongue as well. Shall we continue, or are you not yet finished noting how lame I was for not making varsity?
GARROSH – Yeah, fine, whatever.
FARANELL – At any rate… Well, let me put it this way. Have you ever thought, “Boy, there are all these books I’d like to read, if only I had the time to get around to them”?
(I think Mr. Warchief might have thought Dr. Zombie wasn’t finished yet, because he didn’t say anything. He just stood there looking at him for a minute. I hope Mr. Warchief’s ears are okay!)
FARANELL – Okay, silly question on my part. But you can grasp the concept of that, right?
GARROSH – Yeah, sure. World enough and time. Got it.
FARANELL – Well… Thanks to my…circumstances… I had over 30,000 years to get around to them.
GARROSH – Holy… Hang on. How many books did you end up “getting around to”?
FARANELL – Pretty much all of them.
LIADRIN – And again, sir, it bears noting: he made his way, in essence, through the entire repository of written knowledge…with a photographic memory.
GARROSH – (letting out a long, low whistle) Whew. So, yeah, you’re definitely the man for the job here, Doc. And hey, I guess this means you get to be a professor like your brother, huh?
FARANELL – Yes, well, hopefully not too much like him. He sort of jumped the rails there at the end.
GARROSH – Huh. Yeah. Actually, though, this works out pretty perfectly. Shayari can move on over to the Undercity, she can be a little more low-profile there, you can teach her the ins and outs of all that magic crap, everybody wins.
LIADRIN – Well, sir, I hadn’t really meant that Shay should—
GARROSH – We might as well get the ball rolling right away on this, in fact. MALKOROK!
(Mr. Malkorok leaned back in through the door.)
MALKOROK – Yes, sir?
GARROSH – Malk, Shayari is going to be going back to the Undercity with the doc here. I want you to go with him now and help make any arrangements he needs. Transport, storage, whatever he needs. You clear?
MALKOROK – (giving Faranell a disdainful glance) If you wish, Warchief.
LIADRIN – Warchief, might I suggest before we go ahead with this—
GARROSH – No sense wasting time when we’ve got a winner of a plan, Liadrin. Hop to it, Doc. Malkorok will make sure you get whatever you need.
(Mr. Malkorok stood in the doorway and looked to Dr. Zombie while gesturing out the door. He almost looked polite! I wonder why he looked like something hurt…)
MALKOROK – If you’ll…come this way…undead.
FARANELL – (walking to the door) Oh good. I was afraid my day couldn’t become any more delightful.
(Mr. Malkorok and Dr. Zombie left.)
GARROSH – Gotta hand it to you, Liadrin, that was a pretty clutch idea about the doc.
LIADRIN – Well…thank you, sir. Although I can’t say I’d expected you to want Shayari altogether relocated to the Undercity…
GARROSH – Hey, kids her age go away to school all the time.
LIADRIN – That’s true, sir, but most of them are coming from a home that’s fairly stable to begin with. Shayari, on the other hand, has already been uprooted once from a place she’d considered home.
GARROSH – She should be fine with Edwin looking after her. Plus she can always zip up to Brill if she needs some fresh air. Or fresher air. Or, well, somewhat-less-noxious air.
LIADRIN – Yes, sir. Although… If I might ask you something, sir? I don’t mean to intrude into your personal matters…
GARROSH – I think that train left the station when you showed up with a surprise daughter for me.
LIADRIN – Well, sir… Have you gone to see her at all, since the other day?
GARROSH – No. I haven’t. I’ve been busy enough trying to take care of business and tie up all the loose ends that have been coming loose since…I… haven’t been around to un-loose them…
LIADRIN – I understand that you’re a busy man, of course, Warchief. At the same time…she is your daughter.
GARROSH – I’m aware, yeah.
LIADRIN – Don’t you think you should?
GARROSH – When I get a chance to, Liadrin. Worst case scenario, I’ll be sure to see her off before she takes off with Edwin, and…
LIADRIN – I understand that this has been a lot to be added to an already full plate, sir. I’d like to reassure you, though, if you feel it would be helpful to have a sympathetic ear as a new parent — a sounding board, as it were — I would be more than happy to—
GARROSH – Not for anything, Liadrin, but what would you even know about it?
LIADRIN – More than you might suppose, Warchief. A few years ago, shortly after the Outland campaign, I adopted a young blood elf girl from the Shattrath orphanage. She’s fifteen years old now. So, you see, I’m not completely unfamiliar with having no children one day, then suddenly having a grown child the next.
GARROSH – Yeah, well, that’s nice and all, Liadrin, but I’m sure I can handle it.
LIADRIN – I’m sure you can, sir. So does that mean you’ll be going to see her? Well before any possible departures?
GARROSH – This really isn’t any of your business, Liadrin.
LIADRIN – All things being equal, sir, I would agree. Though given that the past several days I’ve been taking it upon myself to help her with her transition, I suppose you might say I’ve developed a bit of a vested interest.
GARROSH – Liadrin, I get what you’re trying to do, and yeah, fine, you’ve kind of got a point about me going to talk to her, but you know what? I don’t know this girl. She shows up out of nowhere, and I don’t know the first thing about her. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to SAY to her.
LIADRIN – (smiling kindly before beginning matter-of-factly) She grew up in Nagrand, and as a child lost her mother to a pernicious disease. She never knew her father, only through stories, and everything she’s heard of him has told her that he’s a monster. (walks to the door, turning back briefly before exiting) I’m sure you’ll come up with something.
The fire in which we burn
Dranosh left with the Windrunner for Theramore. He brought Dontrag and Utvoch, which, I mean, I know this is really no time for jokes, but…HAHA! Poor fucker. Anyway, he’s going to see if he can find Faranell there, or in Thunder Bluff if need be. One way or another, Mokvar and I will meet him there when we’re done on our end.
We got Mokvar hooked up with a wyvern, and we both flew down from Ashenvale to Tanaris. Soridormi was there to greet us when we arrived at the Caverns of Time.
SORIDORMI: Overlord. Or do you still prefer “Warchief” in this reality? It’s so hard to know what to call certain people.
GARROSH: Doesn’t matter. Call me whatever.
SORIDORMI: Oh? So if I decide “Roshy” has a nice ring to it…?
GARROSH: Don’t get clever.
SORIDORMI: <wry grin> I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.
GARROSH: <grumbles> Fine, whatever. While you’re being all smug and smart, though, how about this – last time I was here, seems to me you might have, you know, neglected to mention a few minor details about this world.
SORIDORMI: In fairness, I did tell you all that there were other events that played out differently.
GARROSH: Which you totally made sound like “I’m just glossing over this since it’s not really that important.”
SORIDORMI: Did I? Hardly. Every moment is important, Garrosh. But at the time, there was no telling how much longer I had to detail matters further. We were – if you’ll pardon the expression – working on borrowed time.
GARROSH: And now?
SORIDORMI: This timeline has taken…a much firmer hold.
MOKVAR: The last few times we’ve shifted, our time here has gotten longer, and our time in the original timeline has gotten shorter…
SORIDORMI: <nods> This timeline is taking over as the predominant one. That overwriting of your reality will soon be complete, if it isn’t already.
GARROSH: Well then, since we’re in like 2% less of a rush now, how about you fill in a few gaps for us. Starting with, say, why it is that Orgrimmar is overrun right now by the Burning Legion and the Scourge, both of which we had pretty well under control last I checked.
SORIDORMI: In both cases, everything hinges on certain unexpected events involving the Battle of the Wrathgate.
GARROSH: Go on…
SORIDORMI: After the Alliance and Horde set aside their petty conflicts and united against the Lich King, Tirion Fordring’s Argent Crusade was able to assemble a strike force of the greatest champions from both factions. The team that Fordring would lead into Icecrown Citadel for the final assault would be far mightier even than the one that defeated Arthas in your timeline.
GARROSH: Okay, so I’m not seeing how that leads to things being WORSE.
SORIDORMI: It didn’t, at first. But you’ll recall, in the time leading up to the attack, the Lich King’s chief researcher was not Professor Putricide – Patrick Faranell – but Putress.
Soridormi holds out her hand and summons an image of Rotface and Festergut.
IMAGE OF ROTFACE: Daddy make toys out of you! WEEEEEE!
IMAGE OF FESTERGUT: Dead, dead, dead! Daddy, I did it!
SORIDORMI: Putricide’s most formidable creations, while strong, were ultimately…limited. Undermined by a lingering sentimentality that Putricide would carry into undeath from another life.
She shakes her hand, and the image changes to that of Patrick Faranell.
IMAGE OF PATRICK: Between you, me, and the walls, I’d rather like to have a couple sons… I remember how much Dad seemed to enjoy himself with us.
SORIDORMI: Putress’ malevolent ingenuity would have no such…humanity to temper it. He would furnish the Lich King with constructs more monstrous and strains of blight more virulent than anything known to your timeline.
GARROSH: Um, didn’t I ask you THIS VERY THING about Putress the last time?
SORIDORMI: You did. I didn’t give you an answer.
GARROSH: INDEED YOU DIDN’T.
MOKVAR: I think we might have distracted her, actually.
GARROSH: Whose side are you on?
MOKVAR: I’m on the side of us not standing around bickering over who said what and why.
GARROSH: Fine. So Putress invented some powerful shit, boy, don’t know why you never thought of that, Garrosh, go on please.
SORIDORMI: Strengthened by Putress’ creations, the Lich King would ultimately defeat Fordring’s even mightier strike force.
MOKVAR: So some of the most powerful heroes against the Scourge, from the Horde and Alliance, were all killed.
SORIDORMI: <pauses grimly> It would have been a kindness had they merely been killed.
Soridormi waves her hand, summoning a likeness of the Lich King.
IMAGE OF THE LICH KING: You trained them well, Fordring. You delivered the greatest fighting force this world has ever known…right into my hands – exactly as I intended.
MOKVAR: By the spirits…
GARROSH: He raised them as his minions…
SORIDORMI: And then killed Tirion Fordring. <closes her eyes a moment> And then raised him…
IMAGE OF THE LICH KING: You could’ve been my greatest champion, Fordring. A force of darkness that would wash over this world and deliver it into a new age of strife.
SORIDORMI: …to lead his new army of Deathbringers.
Garrosh and Mokvar exchange troubled looks.
GARROSH: Okay… Bad news part one done… Now what about the demons?
SORIDORMI: A further consequence of the defeat in Icecrown Citadel… You may recall, in your time, after the fall of the Lich King, some of his former minions would find for themselves…new allegiances.
Soridormi conjures a shimmering likeness of Sylvanas Windrunner.
IMAGE OF SYLVANAS: With the death of the Lich King, many of the more intelligent Scourge became…unemployed… They are under my command now…
SORIDORMI: With the Lich King victorious, the val’kyr would never ally themselves with Sylvanas. Which would prove…unfortunate for the Forsaken.
Soridormi waves her hand. Above her palm appears an image of Sylvanas with Lord Godfrey and High Warlord Cromush at the Greymane Wall.
IMAGE OF SYLVANAS: Soldiers of the Horde! We are victorious! Lordaeron is w—
The image of Lord Godfrey draws a pistol and shoots Sylvanas point-blank. She immediately falls dead on the ground.
IMAGE OF CROMUSH: What have you done, Godfrey?!
IMAGE OF GODFREY: Something that should have been done a long time ago, you filthy animal. Gilneas belongs to me, and so soon will the rest of Lordaeron!
SORIDORMI: In your timeline, Sylvanas was resurrected by her val’kyr servants. Here, she had no val’kyr to save her. Sylvanas Windrunner died – for the second and final time. In the aftermath of her death, leadership of the Undercity would pass to Sylvanas’ second, her majordomo of several years.
The nathrezim Varimathras.
GARROSH: Varimathras? How? He’s…dead…oh no…
MOKVAR: <head sinks> The Wrathgate…
SORIDORMI: <nods> Without Putress in the Undercity, Varimathras had no collaborator with whom to conspire against the Banshee Queen. There was never a coup against Sylvanas. And without the coup against Sylvanas, Varimathras was never exposed as the traitor he was — his true loyalties to the Burning Legion never revealed. He carried on unimpeded, not only free to continue his scheming in the Undercity, but eventually becoming its leader. Much time did not pass before he carried out his master plan…
She waves her hand again, summoning the fiery red likeness of a monstrous eredar.
…and summoned Kil’jaeden the Deceiver into this world. Bringing with him countless legions of demons from the Twisted Nether. Bringing with him the Second Fall of Lordaeron. Most of the Eastern Kingdoms was soon to follow.
GARROSH: Fucking hell…
MOKVAR: Soridormi… Edwin is in this world now, we think. If we can get him here, is there still time to undo all this?
SORIDORMI: If we can get him back to Southshore, we should be able to reset the timelines with both Edwins at the points they need to be.
GARROSH: Okay, great, so we’ll just collect him and get him down here and—
SORIDORMI: Actually getting him to old Southshore, though, is no easy task, and not without problems.
GARROSH: Dammit, I thought if I said that fast enough we could get out before the “but” kicked in.
MOKVAR: What’s the problem?
SORIDORMI: Sending Edwin back to period to which he’s already time-traveled involves crossing his own timeline in ways that no mortal was meant to do.
GARROSH: Ah…the whole “no double-dipping” thing.
SORIDORMI: To open a stable time portal for such a repeat incursion will require me to channel immense amounts of power – far more than I can summon up myself.
GARROSH: What about the Noz? He’s the head honcho time guy anyway, couldn’t he pull it off?
SORIDORMI: I am…the most powerful member of the Bronze Flight here.
GARROSH: How does that work? I mean I get that you’ve got this secret super time vision and whatever, but no offense, how did you get to be more powerful than Noz?
MOKVAR: Garrosh…
SORIDORMI: I’m not.
GARROSH: So what gives? Where is he, any…oh…oh no…
SORIDORMI: <looks down a moment> For a number of reasons…the final confrontation with Deathwing proved…far more costly in this timeline than in the other.
GARROSH: I… Wow do I feel like a jackass.
MOKVAR: This is what it finally took, huh?
GARROSH: So…we need a power source to tap into, then?
SORIDORMI: That’s right.
Garrosh stares off to one side, thinking anxiously.
MOKVAR: Not to bring up bad memories, Soridormi, but I don’t suppose the Dragon Soul is an option?
SORIDORMI: I would be, yes…
GARROSH: Okay, so—
SORIDORMI: Except that it has already been returned to its own time, and retrieving it a second time would involve the type of crossing of timelines that we need the power source for in the first place.
GARROSH: Okay, seriously, you’ve got to start leading with the “but” part of these answers.
MOKVAR: What about the spell book that Malchezaar used to bring the demons into Orgrimmar?
SORIDORMI: <shakes her head> The Book of Medivh is a powerful source of portal magic, for portals within this reality, but hardly helpful for the kind of temporal manipulation we’re undertaking.
GARROSH: <staring down, hesitant> What about…the Focusing Iris? From the Eye of Eternity?
SORIDORMI: <nods slowly> The Focusing Iris would work, yes. As a dragon relic, in fact, it should lend itself all the more easily to my use.
MOKVAR: Do we know where it is now?
GARROSH: The Blue Dragonflight is keeping it in Coldarra.
SORIDORMI: I will give you my talisman to show to the blues. They will give you the Iris if they know you’ve been sent by me. They’ll know I would not ask were the need not dire.
GARROSH: Okay then. I think we have a plan.
SORIDORMI: Indeed, Warchief.
GARROSH: You know what? Just call me Garrosh. People calling me “Warchief” here either gets confusing like with Utvoch earlier, or it’s just creepy like with Malchezaar.
MOKVAR: We should probably get go—
SORIDORMI: Wait, Garrosh – Malchezaar saw you, and called you “Warchief”?
GARROSH: Yeah, why?
SORIDORMI: <fidgets with her hands nervously> You need to go. Now. Take my talisman and get to Northrend quickly to recover the Focusing Iris.
MOKVAR: Why? What is it?
GARROSH: I’ve really kind of had my fill of flying blind around here. What’s got you spooked all of a sudden?
SORIDORMI: The Netherspace where Malchezaar dwelled was a distorted region of time.
GARROSH: Right, I know. Time loop, round and round, now he’s dead, now he’s not, boom. So what?
SORIDORMI: The Netherspace rests at the intersection of countless times. Those who dwell there can see into the different realities – bits and pieces, usually, but one never knows. If Malchezaar knows to call you “Warchief,” he has seen your other world. And in that case, he may well know enough – or could deduce – how the worlds fit together and how they might be corrected.
MOKVAR: It would really be nice if there could be some stupid people on the bad guys’ side for a change…
SORIDORMI: The Burning Legion stands on the brink of a victory on Azeroth that it has coveted for millennia. If they realize what we’re doing, they will not stand idly by. We need to act quickly.
GARROSH: Got it. Be doing whatever you need to do to get ready, Soridormi. We’ll be back with Edwin and the Focusing Iris.
SORIDORMI: I hope so, Garrosh. Titans watch over you.
We winged it double-time to Thunder Bluff. I’m writing from there now. Dranosh and the others haven’t arrived yet, but I’ve sent a messenger to Theramore with the barest bare-bones of what we need to do. I’m guessing he’ll be headed here by nightfall, morning at the latest, and then we can get moving.
Next stop, Northrend.
[Sylvanas and Kil’jaeden images above provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks. Click on the links in the previous sentence to see the souped-up Postcards versions!]
Monday mailbag
It’s been a while since the last mailbag, so while I’ve got a break in the action, let’s see what’s piled up the last few weeks…
Since Faranell has effectively retired from the Royal Apothecary Society, I’m wondering if Sylvanas is taking applications for a new Master Apothecary? I’m a veteran alchemist who’s been at the craft for several years. I even worked out a formula to turn myself into a dragon – rar! Any chance you could put in a good word for me?
–Karelien, Silvermoon City
Sorry to tell you, Karelien, the master apothecary job is already filled. Once it got decided that Faranell was being moved over to Hearthglen, Sylvanas went ahead and did a promotion from within, and appointed Apothecary Zinge to take over as head of the RAS. If you want, I could maybe see about getting you into some kind of entry-level position over there. Not what you were shooting for, I know, but you have to start somewhere. I get the sense that Sylvanas doesn’t do a lot of hiring from the outside, so if you want to have any shot at all at the higher positions, you probably need to already be on the ladder.
If you do land a job over there, by the way, could I maybe ask you to keep an eye on Overseer Kraggosh, and just try to discourage him from packing away so many cheesy steak melts? I’m all for steak, but I swear the Undercity’s got rivers of viscous slime that have a smoother flow to them than that dude’s arteries.
Do you know where Mankrik’s wife be at?
–Bob, Echo Isles
Oh, geez, this guy again.
I already addressed this one like a zillion times last year, when I was making an inspection stop in the Barrens. Where – just to recap – somebody was asking about Mankrik’s wife like every five minutes. Over and over. Fuck, people are annoying.
Here’s where the joke’s on you, though, Bobby-Boy. Back THEN, I might have taken the bait and started ranting at you about his wife having a memorial and all that shit. NOW, though, you ask me where Mankrik’s wife is, and you know what? You’re gonna have to specify WHICH ONE. That’s right, over the last year or so, our boy Mankrik has managed to calm down a little (and holy shit did he need it), courtesy of a whole bunch of consoling and support from this Earthen Ring shaman named Mahka. The two of them wound up growing pretty close, and a few months ago, they decided to make it official and held a quiet life-mate ceremony in Mulgore. If you’re wondering why you didn’t hear about this, well, let’s face it, Thrall’s wedding pretty much pushed everybody else’s deal to the back pages. Self-Important Green Savior Finally Gets Some, stop the presses. Whatever.
Oh, and for the record, the first Mrs. Mankrik? Still dead. Let’s hope things stay that way (you never know about that shit these days), or things might get kind of awkward.
So, crossbow to your head, what do you think – Mylune or Garona? You know what I’m askin.
–Backstab Bladeflurry
Okay, so before I answer your question, Backstab, I have to ask. That’s your name? Seriously? Backstab Bladeflurry? I mean, I KNOW that can’t be your ACTUAL name, because I don’t think ANYONE could hate their kid that much. But you know, the thought that you made up a name for yourself, and that’s the one you came up with…that might actually be even sadder. Seriously, dude, how old are you? Because that sounds like the kind of name you would get if you let a 10-year-old name himself, assuming “Videogame K. Dinosaur” was already taken.
Also, I’m guessing you’re…what…a rogue? Gonna stick my neck WAY out there. Come on, man, if you’re going to make up a name for yourself, it’s bad enough you’re making it a stupid-sounding name. But a stupid-sounding name that’s just a list or your class abilities? Come on. Do you think people would take me seriously if I went around introducing myself as Overpower Heroicstrike? Or maybe Saurfang could start calling himself Cleave McCleaveyouagain? (To be fair, he might possibly be able to carry that off.) Or, hey, Liadrin is a paladin, maybe she should start calling herself Holy Divine Light Shield Shock Hammer Flash Righteous Hand. Really, the only time that kind of a name even kind of worked was with Rend Blackhand, and look how great things wound up going for him.
Anyway, I just had to get that out of my system. Now for your question.
No.
I’m writing to ask if you have any idea why people keep trying to kill me. I’m generally a fairly peaceful fellow, but random strangers keep coming into the inn where I’m just trying to have a drink and attacking me. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but they’re not leaving me any choice but to defend myself. But I don’t understand why they keep doing it.
–Gamon, Orgrimmar
Yeah, Gamon, I’ve heard the ruckus over there a few times, what with you having to lay the smackdown on some noobs every once in a while. Gotta be honest, this one has me stumped. I can’t think of any reason people might have for coming after you, you’ve always seemed like a pretty good dude to me. Maybe… I know it’s kind of the pat to-go answer for people going all violent and hostile, but I don’t know, like…the Old Gods? Maybe? Dunno.
Good luck not dying, though.
I am writing to you on behalf of His Lordship, the honorable Tirion Fordring. In the interests of saving time and paper, I have volunteered to write this note to you in the Highlord’s stead.
The Highlord appreciates the faith you demonstrated in entrusting him with the supervision of Dr. Edwin Faranell. In that same spirit of good faith, the Highlord wishes to make you aware of certain oddities that have recently occurred involving the doctor.
The good doctor has generally been adjusting well to his new life here in Hearthglen, but the past several days he has experienced momentary bouts of disorientation, in which he has become briefly confused as to what is going on around him. Following these episodes, he has claimed to have experienced what would seem to be a kind of hallucination: seeing and hearing events transpiring around him that clearly did not occur.
The Highlord suspects that the doctor is suffering from some sort of mental distress as a result of the radical change his life has undertaken. Lord Fordring is quite concerned about Dr. Faranell’s well-being, and would welcome the opportunity to discuss this turn of events with you further. We have faith that we may yet guide the doctor to a successful acclimation to his current time and place.
–Daria L’Rayne, Argent Crusade
Oh crap, here we go. I’d hoped that Faranell would be able to settle in without any problems, but I guess that was wishful thinking. I can’t say I’m really surprised that he’s kind of shellshocked by the whole thing – I mean, if YOU woke up one morning and all of a sudden it was years later, and half the people you used to know were dead, and the other half were zombies, and whole dominions had risen and fallen, and spirits know how many other things had gone down, yeah, you’d probably have a hard time just walking that off, too. I know I would probably shit a brick.
So, I guess I’m going to need to take a trip over to Eastern Kingdoms again to go see Tirion. I wonder if there’s any way I could get this Daria chick to hold the info session rather than Tirion, though – she seems like she would probably be a lot less painful to talk to, not least of all because I’m pretty sure this letter would have filled up about 37 pages minimum if it were Tirion writing it. Damn good thing he’s got a logging camp right nearby, considering all the paper he probably goes through, is all I’m gonna say.
So, yeah, I’ll have to see about getting that trip lined up. That said, though, seriously, I was just OVER in Eastern Kingdoms like two days ago. Would it really KILL people to time these crises so that I don’t have to go zig-zagging all over the map? So fucking inconsiderate.
That’s all for this week. I’m going to try to be a little more consistent about posting mailbags, so keep those letters and questions coming – first because it’s always good to hear from my loyal readers and minions, second because I’m always happy (well, usually happy…well, sometimes happy…okay, okay, occasionally it doesn’t totally piss me off) to answer your questions, and third because YOUR WARCHIEF DEMANDS IT. Send those letters to me at garrosh1337@gmail.com, and I’ll do another roundup in a couple weeks.
