Archive for dehta

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 21, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream

mail2

I arrived a couple days ago here at the Sanctum of Two Moons, and I’ve been getting settled in and learning the lay of the land since then.  While we have a little break in the action, I figured this might be a good time to dip into the ol’ mailbag…

 

To Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde:

Call off the search patrols!  I’m ok!

I know everyone must have been sick with worry the last few months since my sudden disappearance, (my colleagues up in Northrend must have been particularly disturbed by my absence); however, I can reassure you all that I am finally safe and sound.

Where have I been, you might ask?  Ah, friend, that is a tale indeed!  A tale of wonder and adventure!  I was swimming with the Orca folk in the northern oceans and discovered a new shape-shifting technique that permitted me to assume the very form of a noble whale person myself.  Wearing my new visage, I was able to communicate with them in their own language — a very melodious tongue with beautiful but complex rules of grammar — and became assimilated into their culture.

Engrossed in my cetacean studies, I lost track of time and eventually track of my own self.  I forgot my previous life as a Night Elf and the thought of living on land became as alien to me as the thought of drinking fire would be to any but a fire elemental.  I lived as a whale; I laughed as a whale; I loved as a whale; and finally I migrated south with the rest of my pod.

O! What a journey that was!  The tales I could tell of the fantastical denizens of the deep!  But alas!  I have not the space here to elaborate further.  (Look for my upcoming book on my experiences, working title: “Darling it’s Better Down Where it’s Wetter”.)

But all good things must come to an end.  There was an enormous storm, the violence of which penetrated even the depths of the sea.  I was separated from my pod and flung about at the mercy of the waves.  At last I was washed up on dry land and lay helplessly beached, drying out in the sun.  I looked death in the eye that day and all hope left me.  At last I fell unconscious and lay senseless on the shore.

When I came to I was surrounded by curious creatures.  They looked like some sort of Furbolg, but were covered with black and white fur from head to toe and called themselves “Pandaren”.  They clothed me and helped me to my feet, at which point I realized that I was a Night Elf again.  All my memories came flooding back.  I was my full self once more.

I spent a few days in the care of these kind Pandaren.  They told me many fascinating stories about this previously unknown land and informed me that many other peoples from both the Horde and the Alliance had recently arrived and made contact with them.  And so I am writing you this missive to allay your fears about my welfare.

Also, could you please lend me a small amount of gold and arrange transportation for me back to Northrend?  I seem to have misplaced all my possessions.  Thanks.

Arch Druid Lathorius, D.E.H.T.A.

Huh.  Okay, so…I’m going to set aside the fact that Lather-on-us here seems to think he and I are buddies or something, because hey, as long as he thinks I can stand the sight of him, maybe that helps tone down the whining and complaining and protesting every time I try to eat a ham on rye.

So setting that aside…  Dude, you were missing?  Was I supposed to notice that shit?

Actually, come to think of it, you WERE all AWOL that time I went to check in with your DEHTA flunkies, weren’t you?  But man, that was AGES ago – were you seriously out mucking around with the fishes all that time?

Still, funny that you would wind up landing in the same place that everyone else has been converging on lately.  Especially since it’s the same place that was hidden and cloaked in mists and totally unreachable and inaccessible to anyone for every and ever for like thousands of years until everybody and their uncle started winding up there like a month ago.  I would say it’s what all the cool kids are doing, but, you know, that doesn’t really help explain YOU being here.  Or Varian.  Or…well, pretty much anyone other than me.  But whatever.  OH HEY, actually, you know one other cool kid who HAS turned up here in Pandaria?  Hemet Nesingwary!  You know him, right?  Small world.

As for the gold… Yeah, um, I think you’re gonna need to scrape together cab fare for yourself.  I gave at the office.  Maybe see if you can do some busywork for the Anglers in exchange for a little pocket change?

 

Warchief!

I’m guessing your blog has been lagging behind while you venture into Pandaria.  I recently encountered you in the Shrine of Two Moons during your visit.  Unfortunately, I was under the influence of a Blingtron 4000, and looked like a human instead of a proud Horde member.  See the attached photos for how poorly this went for me.

wookie1

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Enjoy the rest of your trip!

–WookieeBH

Yeesh, dude, what’s up with the “lagging behind” shit, I only just got here a couple days ago.  I do remember you, though, Wookiee – among the many random asshats who swung by to make my day more tedious, you and your little getup were especially asshattery.  Although I did kind of get a chuckle out of it when your dog or hyena or whatever took a dump on Malkorok’s boots.  Dude gets so grumpy about things.  Heh.

Anyway, as you can see from the pictures, I’ve been hanging out at the Sanctum of Two Moons for the past couple days, which let me tell you is a pretty boss place.  Unfortunately, I only had a couple hours to enjoy it before I was joined by – as you can also see from the pictures – our old friend Regent-Lord Hair-Care.  Whose mood, by the way, hasn’t improved much lately.  Only, get this – in light of some of the slapping-around I’ve had to give him lately, now he feels the need to bring company everywhere he goes:

ellendra

This would be Ellendra Palescorn…his bodyguard.

Yes, his bodyguard.

I swear, only among the blood elves would it go over as a plan to be like, “You know, I really need someone to help keep my scrawny, twiggy ass safe”…and then hire someone scrawnier and twiggier.

Thank goodness they’re good at magic, is all I’m gonna say.

 

Hey mon,

I still can’t believe Vol’jin be dead, mon!  But I betcha he always gonna he wit us in spirit.  I can practically feel his spirit wit me now, mon – it’s almost like he be right here writin’ dis letter wit me!

I know ya got ya Kor’kron people down here in de Echo Isles ta keep us safe, mon, but I don’ be likin’ dis Gul’tar guy dey got in charge.  I’m tellin’ ya, sometin’ bad gonna happen wit day guy!  If ya be askin’ me, I tink ya betta keep a close eye on what he goin’ on down here.  Wouldn’t want sometin’ slippin’ between da cracks, ya know, mon?

–Bob, Echo Isles

Oh, great, this guy again.  And so of course, just as soon as I get ONE grumbling troll out of my hair, ANOTHER one pops up to take his place.  Almost like Vol’jin isn’t gone at all, indeed.

Actually, come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve mentioned that before, so just in case you’ve been living under a rock the last couple weeks…you remember that mission I’d sent Vol’jin on when he first got to Pandaria?  Yeah.  Didn’t go so well for him.  Boo hoo.  Moving on.

So anyway, Bobbo, sorry if you don’t like the cut of Gul’tar’s jib, whatever a jib is, but you know what?  I’m not going to waste my time trying to micromanage every move my people make down there.  If Gul’tar needs anything, I’m pretty certain he’ll let me know, and if anything important is going on there, I’m damn sure they’ll send word to me about it.  So until I hear something from them, I’ll be keeping my nose out of the goings-on down in the Echo Isles, which is a good thing what with the smell down there because WTF are you trolls burning all the time anyway?

 

(the parchment appears to have been chewed on a bit on one corner and has a few smears of dark mud at the bottom)

Hail Warchief!

I am writing to you to apply for the position of scribe. I have been taught in the very best tents of Thunder Bluff. I am a tauren, albeit a bit small, and that wet dog smell is a condition I have. Some say I appear to be wearing a badly made tauren suit, but that’s hurtful because I got these stitches in service to the Horde! I wish to put my skills to use serving my Warchief! I feel that I would be best suited for this position given my extensive linguistic skills and utter loyalty. After all, you can’t be too careful these days. There could be Alliance spies anywhere. As a professional tracker I could help with this also. Afterall, it’d be ashamed if anything….happened. I hope my Warchief finds me worthy of being right by his side.

–Legit Tauren Scribe

Hey, LTS, thanks for writing in.  I’m glad people are still showing interest in the scribe position after that…erm…mixed-results audition thing.  Right now I think I’m going to see how things work out with Gurtash covering the scribing, in his own doodly sort of way, but I’ll definitely keep you in line.  It wouldn’t hurt at all to have a couple competent backup options, in case the kid gets too busy with other assignments or what-have-you.  That said, with any luck it won’t be too long before Mokvar’s back on the job, assuming we can get his weird-ass marked-for-death situation under wraps sometime soon.

 

To Garrosh:

Reporting in re: your special assignment.  As per your request, have been maintaining stealthed surveillance on Mokvar in order to provide additional protection in light of recent attacks.

Have come across unexpected complications.

While in Winterspring with his panda friend, Mokvar was seen meeting with an unidentified human woman.  The two seemed very familiar; shortly thereafter embarked together on journey to Darkwhisper Gorge.  Seen scouring cave formerly occupied by now-deceased imp,  Appeared to be searching for something; overheard references to relic of some kind, demonic power, domination of wills.

Will continue to monitor Mokvar’s activities and continue protection against attackers until further instructions received.

–Garona Halforcen, Everlook

The…FUCK?

So hang on, I worry about Mokvar’s safety to the point that I assign one of the best rogues in the business to follow his ass around and look out for him while I’m away…and THIS is what I get for it?  Meeting up with some HUMAN?  Sneaking around trying to do spirits know WHAT?

Yeah, this…this is NOT going to be good for my mood, let me tell you that right now.

In fact, I think on that note it’s time for me to step away from the computer for a few.  And possibly go smack someone or something around for a little while.

More soon.

Welcome to the jungle

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , on July 25, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

We’ve spent a good solid day investigating in Stranglethorn Vale, without a whole lot to show for it.  On the way down, I arranged to have Mokvar and Krog take the zeppelin down with me.  Figured it would help to bring a record-keeper, plus a trained investigator who can do a little stealthing around.

Based on the conversations I had with the DEHTA people – or, well, what I remember of them – our most likely suspect in the animal-arming weirdness is a troll named Tembw’bam, who used to hang with the DEHTA guys until he decided they weren’t hardcore enough for him over the whole animal rights thing.  Yes, you read that right.  According to what they tell me, this Tembw’bam dude went so crazy living in his animal forms that he basically renounced being a humanoid.  Like he looked at the animals, and looked at the other people, and went over to the animals like “Fuck that shit, I’m with you guys.”  Which to be fair, I don’t know if I can blame him, depending on the people he had surrounding him.  I mean, lock me in a room with Dontrag and Utvoch for a few days and self-identifying as a meerkat might start to sound pretty good to me, too.

Anyway, once we arrived here, Commander Aggro’gosh put some of his scouts at our disposal, and we started sending out search parties led by me, Mokvar, and Krog.  I even stopped by the Nesingwary base camp with my group to check in, although I have to say, it’s kind of disappointing dropping by there.  I mean, I hear the camp is spruced up a lot now compared to what it was like back in the day, but here’s the thing.  As much as the facilities might be better, it just isn’t what you’d call a no-kidding-around on-top-of-shit hunter’s camp.  Look, I’ve met Hemet Nesingwary.  I went hunting with him a few times back in Nagrand.  THAT dude is the real deal as far as big game hunting goes.  His kid, Hemet Jr.?  Total slacker.  You can tell his heart’s not really in it – he’d really rather be focusing on his music, or some shit like that – and it shows.  But you know how it goes.  The boss takes off and leaves his son in charge of the company, nobody can say anything because, hey, it’s the boss’ fucking kid, but the kid doesn’t really know the business well enough to ride the staff the way the old man would, and so everything gets lax and sloppy.  Fucking legacy kids.

I tried talking to Hemet Jr. some, but between him and the other hunters at the camp, the best I could get was confirmation of there being a lot of animals turning up with weapons and armor on them.  Tigers especially lately, for whatever reason.  That might just be because there’s a decent tiger population near the camp, or maybe because there’s more to it, who knows – and by the way, can I just say again?  Hemet SR. would have been able to put some tracking on that shit and get an idea of what’s what.  No such luck with HJ.

We’ll keep at it a little longer, and hopefully something will turn up.  While we were making the rounds, Nimboya sent word to some of his people over in Bambala, and we just had a troll hunting party stop by the base here, so maybe we’ll get a lead there.  More soon.

Calling freelance snapshotters

Posted in General with tags , , , , , on July 24, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

I’m taking a day here in Orgrimmar to rest up a bit before I follow up on the lead I’d gotten on the nutjob ex-DEHTA guy.  Also lining up a few support people to bring with me to Stranglethorn Vale.  While I’m here, I figured I’d tend to a few odds and ends for the blog.

So, first and foremost – those of you who are regular readers have probably noticed that over the last week or so, I’ve been adding pictures into my posts at a regular clip.  (And those of you who are NOT regular readers – WHY THE HELL NOT?  DO NOT CURRY THE WRATH OF YOUR WARCHIEF, PEON.)  Strictly speaking, it hasn’t been me doing it – Spazzle mentioned that it might be nice to put some pictures into the blog, break up the walls of text (if only someone could make pictures come out of Tirion’s mouth when he gets rolling, amirite?), that sort of thing.  I took that as him volunteering for the job, and told him to get to work.

The posts have been looking nice enough with the added illustrations that I’d kind of like to work a few into the earlier posts too.  But, fact of that matter is, Spazzle doesn’t have what you’d call an extensive picture gallery, and for some reason the lazy fucker doesn’t seem too thrilled at the idea of spending the next few weeks flying all around Azeroth collecting more.

So, here’s where I turn to you, MY LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS.  Here’s your chance to BECOME A PART of the blog you love so dearly!  Okay, granted, a much less awesome part than I am, but still, a pretty legit part!  So here it is.  Have some pictures from your travels that you think would go well with your favorite post here on the Command Board?  Well, consider this my official call for submissions!  Send your images to me at garrosh1337@gmail.com, along with an indication of which post you have in mind for it.  If it looks like a good fit to me, I’ll have Spazzle hook it up.

I’ll credit the image to you on the edited post, including a link to your own blog or web site if you have one and, you know, it’s not part of some sketchy scam to spread keyloggers or something.  DON’T THINK I WON’T HAVE MY PEOPLE CHECK ON THAT SHIT.  Once the updated post goes live, I’ll make an announcement on Twitter, and I’ll probably also do a mini-post here every so often pointing out which older posts have had some nice shiny eye candy added to them.

Spazzle tells me that ideally, your images should be large enough and high enough resolution that they can be cropped or edited and still look reasonably good.  He’s generally going for letterbox-ish dimensions, so if your images lend themselves to that, all the better.  Whatever any of that shit means.

There might also be a few minor odds and ends about layout and formatting and such, but I’ll deal with people individually as it becomes necessary.  Or rather, I’ll have Spazzle deal with them, because I have more important things to do with my time.  Like, you know, figure out why there are armies of woodchucks running around with nunchaku.

Speaking of which, I need to go pack.  Stranglethorn awaits.

Tangerine trees and marmalade skies

Posted in Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 23, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

So…didn’t get around to posting when I got back in yesterday.  I wound up sleeping in late here at Warsong Hold, and I’m actually a little fuzzy as far as what happened after my last post from the DEHTA camp.

Mokvar was supposed to come meet me here in Northrend, but he wound up getting held up by some business back in Orgrimmar.  Luckily, Saurfang had his own in-house scribe on hand to keep a record.  See for yourself.

 

Scene: High Overlord’s Command Room, Warsong Hold

[High Overlord SAURFANG paces back and forth, dictating to ADELENE SUNLACE, Inscription Trainer and personal scribe.]

SAURFANG

…and so, Chieftain Icemist, with the Scourge thwarted and the Nerubian threat contained, I believe the time is right for us to begin the long-overdue work of reclaiming the lost settlements of your taunka brethren and securing them under the banner of the Horde.  I look forward to our continued correspondence.  Honor go with us all—

RAZGOR

[From outside.]

High Overlord!

TO’BOR

[Outside]

Make way, mon!  We be coming’ t’rough!

[Enter OVERLORD RAZGOR, Executive Officer of Warsong Hold, and WIND MASTER TO’BOR, propping up a staggering WARCHIEF GARROSH HELLSCREAM between them.  The Warchief’s personal wyvern wanders in behind them.]

GARROSH

HA!  Oh man, watch that last step, it’s a bitch!  HAHA!

SAURFANG

Warchief!  Men, what’s happening here?

TO’BOR

Da Warchief came flyin’ in on his wyvern, sir, an’ done come down unsteady on the landin’ platform.  He tumbled right offa da wyvern an’ stumbled over to da wall, an’ fell right over da edge, mon!

RAZGOR

I saw him come in from the ground, High Overlord.  The Warchief would have been badly hurt at the least, if the wyvern hadn’t swooped down and broken his fall.

SAURFANG

Thank the spirits for that much.  Are you all right, Warchief?

[Garrosh peers back at the High Overlord quizzically for a long moment, then breaks into a wide grin.]

GARROSH

You’re like, all pruney and shit, you know that, Saurfang?  HAHAHA!

SAURFANG

Well, he appears to be in good spirits, at the very least.

RAZGOR

Yes, sir.

TO’BOR

His eyes be lookin’ all bloodshot, dough, sir.  Mon.

SAURFANG

So I noticed.  I believe you men can release him, in any case.

[Razgor and To’bor release their grips on Garrosh, who stumbles forward, looks around, then starts to teeter to either side with his arms flailing around at his sides.]

RAZGOR

Whoa, hold on!

TO’BOR

Whoopsie-daisy-mon!

[They catch Garrosh again and steady him, then carefully let him go again.  The wyvern walks up close to Garrosh and leans against him lightly on one side.]

SAURFANG

To’bor, if you would, why don’t you escort the Warchief’s animal to the stables.

TO’BOR

Yessir.  Mon.

[To’bor grasps the wyvern’s harness and tries to pull it toward the side hall.  The wyvern doesn’t budge, and after several tugs of increasing force from To’bor, it snarls at To’bor and snaps at him, forcing him to jump back.]

TO’BOR

Okay den, now we jus’ got to show da wyvern who da boss here!

[To’bor grabs at the wyvern by the scruff of its neck and tries to pull it toward the floor.  As he does so, the wyvern spins its body in the opposite direction, yanking him over it; while he is disoriented, the wyvern grabs the hood of his cloak in its teeth, flings him onto the floor on his back, and pins him in place with one paw pressed firmly on his chest.]

GARROSH

HAH!  That’s awesome!  That’s it, Mortimer, show ’im who’s the alpha up in his bitch!  Hahahaheeeeee…  [Snorts.]

[To’bor struggles to get out from under the wyvern’s paw without much success.]

SAURFANG

So, then…Warchief…since you are…well…

GARROSH

Varok, buddy, I’m fuckin’ fantastic.  [Chuckles incontrollably.]

SAURFANG

Yes, I see…

GARROSH

[Continuously laughing while talking.]

Va-rok, Vaaaa-rok…hey, do people ever call you Rokky?  Haha…because they totally should!  You look like you could be a Rokky, dude.

SAURFANG

[Sighs.]

Warchief, listen to me very carefully.  While you were at the D.E.H.T.A. camp, did anyone, by chance, offer you a brownie?

GARROSH

Haha, dude, who DIDN’T offer me a brownie?  And, and let me tell you, Rokky… Heh…heh HA… Um… Yeah, so.  So those salads they got there are shit, but dude the fuckin’ brownies are AMAZING.  I… I think I had… um…  [He holds both hands in front of his face, and moves fingers on both hands as if counting silently.]  Um, yeah, a LOT!  Hahah!

SAURFANG

Oh dear.

TO’BOR

I coulda been tellin’ you dat, mon.

GARROSH

Oh and DUDE, lemme tell you, those things are fuckin’ scumptious.  [He blinks.]  Um.  Scumptious?  No…scruntious.  Scuntious..  Sc-rrrrrunnnn-tious.  DAMMIT!  Scummmmm-ptious… UGH!  Dammit my tongue won’t say it right!

SAURFANG

Suffice to say they were flavorful, and we move on, shall we, Warchief?

GARROSH

NO, fuck that shit, I’m not going to let my stupid uncooperative tongue beat me!  Scuntious!  DAMMIT!  Scruntious—FUCK, almost!  Scumptious!  Scumptious!  Scruntious!  SCUNTIOUS!  DAMMIT DEFIANT TONGUE!

[Garrosh brings both hands to his face and starts poking around his mouth angrily, eventually pinching his tongue between the fingers of one hand and holding it at full extension.  With his other hand, he hurriedly reaches behind him and draws Gorehowl.]

RAZGOR

Whoa!

TO’BOR

What you be doin’, mon?!

GARROSH

YOU DITHHODDOR DE HORDE, INTHOLENT DONGUE!

SAURFANG

Hold him, men!

[Saurfang and Razgor, aided by the wyvern holding the back of Garrosh’s belt in its teeth, grapple with the Warchief and eventually manage to get Gorehowl away from him.  To’bor tries to get up to offer his aid as well, but the wyvern thwarts his every attempt to rise by flattening him against the floor again emphatically.]

TO’BOR

Dis be a strong wyvern ya got here, mon…

SAURFANG

Now then…Warchief …did your visit to the D.E.H.T.A. camp elucidate the current conundrum?

GARROSH

What the who?

SAURFANG

Did…you learn anything?

GARROSH

OH YEAH!

SAURFANG

Ah, good.  What news, then?

GARROSH

Have you been over there before?

SAURFANG

I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, no, Warchief.

GARROSH

Okay, so check it…  [He stumbles shakily to Saurfang, puts one arm around his shoulder, and leans in close, then pokes at Saurfang’s chest with one finger every few words.]  Okay.  So.  No matter…how sick you get of the salads…  [He nods seriously a few times, then stares at Saurfang for several seconds.]  What was I saying?

SAURFANG

Warchief?

[Garrosh continues his even stare for several seconds more, then looks around.]

SAURFANG

That would be you, sir.

GARROSH

What?  OH YEAH, fuck, it is, right?  HAHAHA, I’m Warchief – RECOGNIZE, bitches!

RAZGOR

Lok’tar!

TO’BOR

[Still pinned down by the wyvern.]

For da Horde!

[Saurfang glares at them impatiently and, behind Garrosh’s back, waves at them with one hand to stop.]

SAURFANG

So, Warchief… You were…starting to say about the D.E.H.T.A. camp?  And…something about… [He sighs briefly.]  …salads?

GARROSH

[His eyes go wide in recognition, and he resumes poking at Saurfang’s chest rapidly and energentically.]

OH YEAH!  Fuckin’ hell yeah!  SO!  So, so, so, um… No matter how sick you get of the salads… If they offer you a burger… [His eyes widen as his face turns very serious.]  DON’T.

[Saurfang watches him for a moment, purses his lips, then finally speaks.]

SAURFANG

Warchief…did they know anything pertaining to the problem of the armed animals across the various zones?

GARROSH

HOLY SHIT THEY DID, HOW DID YOU KNOW?!  [Stares wide-eyed a moment, then starts laughing hysterically.]

SAURFANG

And…sir…what did they tell you?

GARROSH

Okay, okay, so.  SO.  They were talking ’bout this…nutjob druid who was nutjobby even for them, right?  Like this guy was such a big animal lover, he didn’t even like shifting out of his animal forms, you know?

SAURFANG

Yes, sir…

GARROSH

Like…like… LIKE A BEAR!  RAAAARRR!!!  HahahahahaHA!  Rar.

SAURFANG

Yes, sir.

GARROSH

Hahahahahahaaaa… Like a bear!  RAR!

SAURFANG

[Rubs his forehead.]

Yes, sir.  Like a bear.

[Garrosh leans against Saurfang, putting his face on the High Overlord’s shoulder, and laughing hysterically for a few moments.]

SAURFANG

Warchief…please try to focus.  Was there anything else?

[Garrosh straightens up suddenly, and teeters for a moment.  Razgor runs over close in anticipation of the Warchief falling over backwards.]

GARROSH

OOPS!  Haha!  Um, yeah, okay.  SO.  Um… So yeah, I’ve got a name to check up on, and one of them, the birdy lady what’s-her-face, um, she said the guy used to talk a lot about Stranglethorn Vale, and plus…um…yeah, what with him being a troll, he might be wandering around in the jungle there.

SAURFANG

Well, that’s a promising lead at least, Warchief.

GARROSH

Right you are, Rokky!  HAHA!  Vaaaa-rok!  Varok Varok Varok!  OH HEY!  There once was a warrior named Varok!

TO’BOR

Here we go, mon…

GARROSH

Who passed on all servings of hamhock!

SAURFANG

True, I do not eat pork.

RAZGOR

Is that a religious thing?

SAURFANG

No, I just don’t dig on swine, that’s all.

GARROSH

Now I won’t deceive you –
He’ll pummel and cleave you,
And leave your sad ass really shellshocked.
EPIC VERSE!

[Garrosh throws both hands into the air as he yells “EPIC VERSE!!!”  When he finished the roar, he loses his balance and spills flat onto the floor, face-down.]

SAURFANG

Warchief!  Are you all right?

GARROSH

[Slightly muffled from his face being on the floor.]

You know, this map on the floor looks fucking HUGE from down here!  HAHA!  [Punches the floor a few times while laughing.]  You know what you need down here?  One of those big fur rugs.  Like…LIKE A BEAR!  HAHAHA!

SAURFANG

Yes, sir…

RAZGOR

Like a bear.

TO’BOR

Rar, mon.

SAURFANG

What was that, anyway, Warchief?

GARROSH

What do you mean, what was that?  That was EPIC VERSE!  HAHAHA!

SAURFANG

I’m not sure I understand…

RAZGOR

Do you not read the blog?

SAURFANG

I rarely ever use that infernal machine.

GARROSH

Oh oh oh oh OH DUDE, you should totally get on the computer more, I could totally hook you up on Earth Online!

SAURFANG

Should I know what that is?

RAZGOR

It’s this thing on the internet.

GARROSH

Yeah, dude, it’s a really cool game.

SAURFANG

A…game?

GARROSH

Yeah, a computer game!

SAURFANG

And…you play this game, sir?

GARROSH

Hell yeah!  I’m totally gonna sent you a RAF link after this.  HAH that sounds funny — RAAAAAF hahaha…

SAURFANG

Warchief…you’re thirty-four years old.

GARROSH

RAAAAAAAAAFFFFFFFFF…  HAHAHAA…  [Slapping his hands randomly on the floor while he laughs.]

SAURFANG

Come now, Warchief.

[Saurfang and Razgor help Garrosh back to his feet.  As they lift him, Garrosh points to a spot on the floor and bursts out laughing again.]

GARROSH

Hey Saurfang!  Hey!  Check it, see that spot right there?  That’s…hehehe…that’s the EXACT. SPOT.  Where you told me that time…haha… where you told me you’d kill me before you let me lead the Horde to ruin!

[Garrosh leans against Saurfang, laughing hysterically while draping one arm each over Saurfang and Razgor, letting them hold him up.  As his laughter grows weaker, he pulls them closer to him on either side.]

GARROSH

[Sob-laughing.]

I fuckin’ love you guys!

SAURFANG

[Aside.]

I’m sure Thrall had his reasons…

 

So, yeah.  Maybe not the proudest day for me, but whatever.  At least we’ve got a lead and can see about tracking down this loose cannon druid guy.  Not sure what’s up with Saurfang’s scribe funky-ass formatting, but I guess not everybody’s going to do things Mokvar-style.  If it works for Saurfang, fine.

I’ll be heading back to Orgrimmar.  First, though, I need to see what they’ve got to eat around here.  I’m fucking STARVING, dude.  Not to mention, my sides are fucking killing me.

 

“Kids these days and their felweed…”

If they get out a hacky sack, I’m going home

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , on July 20, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

So after what Hamuul and Antlers were saying about the critters in Mulgore maybe getting their weapons from a druid in animal form, I got to thinking.  If there’s a druid responsible for this, it’s probably not one of the Cenarion people, seeing as Hamuul usually stays on top of shit better than that, and it’s probably not one of Antlers’ Guardian types up in Hyjal, unless Ysera is really falling asleep on the job.  (SEE WHAT I DID THERE?)  So that rules out most of your typical mainstream druids.  If a druid is behind this, it’s got to be somebody from the pro-animal druid lunatic fringe.  And when you’re talking about the pro-animal druid lunatic fringe, it doesn’t get any fringier than DEHTA.

So, guess where I’m writing from, through the wonders of wireless internet.  That’s right – right this very minute I’m up in the Borean Tundra, paying the DEHTA fuckers a visit.  I’m at their camp right now, mostly trying to figure out what the weird herbal smell around here is.

I was hoping I would get to talk to Lather-on-us – ever since he got it into his demented head that I’d gone vegetarian (HA!), he’s been at least vaguely bearable to deal with.  But, come to find out, he was off working on something away from the camp when I got here.  Nobody seems too clear on when he’s going to be back, so I guess I’m just going to have to make due with the other DEHTA people for now.

Thing is, sad as this will sound, Lather-on-us is probably the most stable one of the bunch.  With him gone, check out the crew I’ve got to deal with.

You’ve got Hierophant Cenius, who’s more or less running the store with the big guy away, and can’t seem to get through a sentence without saying “you dig, man?” and snapping her fingers like 53 times.

Then you’ve got…well…I don’t even know what his real name is, but he sits around all day wearing this retarded murloc getup, and only answers to “King Mrgl-Mrgl.”  I guess he’s actually a night elf, and had been sent to watch the Winterfin murlocs up north, only the murlocs embraced him and made him king and then he went native or some shit.  Then, the last time I was up here, Mortimer helped himself to a murloc buffet and pretty much wiped out this guy’s constituency, so now he’s back here at the camp without much to do.  Other than make retarded gargling sounds.

There’s Zaza, a frost nymph, which I’m not going to mess around with at all after the other day because NYMPHS BE CRAZY.

And then you’ve got Killinger the Den Watcher, or as I like to call him Killinger the Obsessive-Compulsive, who doesn’t seem to remember that he’s able to shift out of bear form, and more importantly, doesn’t seem to remember that he’s able to use soap, because holy shit, seriously.  Honest to fuck, dude, the patchouli oil isn’t fooling anyone.  Now I know what you’re thinking on this one – druid stuck in animal form, maybe this is our guy.  I was thinking that too, only that brings us to our next item, the whole obsessive-compulsive thing.  Dude just keeps walking in a circle around the middle of the camp, counting to himself out loud.  “One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand,” on and on and on.  Just in the time I’ve been here he’s gotten up to 3219.

At one point when he rolled over 2000, I decided to mess with him, and started yelling random numbers.  He got all spastic for a second, then walked back to this one spot in the camp, nodded his head three times, then started circling the same old path while counting off “one thousands” again.  I waited for him to crack 1000 and started doing the random numbers again.  Same deal – walked back to the exact same spot, three nods, went back to circling, “one one thousand, two one thousand.”  I am willing to roll the dice on this guy not being our diabolical mastermind.

So this is Lather-on-us’ braintrust.  Hard to believe Hemet Nesingwary is still up and kicking, isn’t it?

Anyway, I’ve been hanging around here for a while now, trying to choke down a salad that doesn’t even have the common decency to have bacon bits on it.  The DEHTA fuckers have been friendly enough mostly, but it’s hard as hell to keep them on topic, and then when I get irritated and try to respectfully suggest that they could maybe try pulling their heads out of their fucking asses for like two minutes, they start calling me “Herbert” over and over, whatever that means, and then chuckle like morons.  All I’ve been able to get out of them so far is that they don’t seem to know anything about animals being armed, but a few months ago there used to be some new guy hanging out with them, a troll named Tembw’bam, who was all about animal liberation and fighting The (hu)Man(oids), and “any means necessary,” and eventually he got them all going “Whew, this guy’s crazy,” and they sent him on his way.  Which, seriously, when the fucking DEHTA people think you’re a nutjob?  Time to say “check please” to life, dude.

They’re not sure what happened to him, though.  They think one of their other people, Hierophant Liandra, might remember a little more, but she’s out patrolling for trappers right now.  They think she should be back soon, so I’m going to hang around the camp here for a little longer, or at least until I get too sick of these people to keep it up.  Thank goodness for the internet, is all I’m going to say.  You peeps on Twitter?  You know who you are – right now you are single-handedly keeping my sanity.  Because what the holy FUCK is a tofu burger?  Ffs.

The Tuskarr and the Mortimer

Posted in EPIC VERSE with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 26, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

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So here it is – the final installment of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge!  Thanks to everyone who participated, whether by giving suggestions for poems, or just coming by to read the latest submissions.  And so, without further ado…

 

The sun was shining on the sea
Beneath the Borean sky;
The waves were waving to and fro,
The crests were cresting high.
And that it was a glorious day
No creature could deny.
 
To Warsong Hold a zeppelin
Brought Garrosh with his bunch.
He’d come to visit D.E.H.T.A.’s camp
And have a little lunch.
And this was strange, since most of them
He would much rather punch.
 
But he had come to humor them
And show a little class;
He figured this way it might keep
Lather-on-us off his ass.
So he’d choke down a salad
And, with luck, would not get gas.
 
So as the Warchief wandered off
To find the D.E.H.T.A base,
He left his wyvern free to fly
And soar at his own pace,
Since frankly it was just as well
He stay clear of that place.
 
So Mortimer went flying ’round
Exploring as he may,
And came upon a Kalu’ak
Outside of Unu’pe.
The Tuskarr greeted him and said,
“Hail, wyvern!  Frabjous day!”
 
The wyvern landed near; the Tuskarr
Said, “Now let us see –
I feel that in my travels
I could use some company.
So, wyvern, let me ask you,
Would you like to come with me?”
 
The friendly Mortimer just gave
A nod and then a bark;
He figured that he might as well
Go with him as a lark.
And so away from Unu’pe
The pair did disembark.
 
The Tuskarr and the Mortimer
Went strolling in a rank,
Across the Geyser Fields and past
Airstrip of Fizzlecrank
(Where Mortimer left for the gnomes
Some droppings as a prank).
 
Along the northern coast they found
A village, and therein,
A mob of mumbling Murlocs
From the tribe of Winterfin.
The Tuskarr said, “Aha!  And so
Our fun can now begin!”
 
“Hail, Murlocs!” said the Tuskarr
As the Murloc ranks increased.
“Good day!” he said; they gathered
As the village was policed.
“And since we’re friends, good Murlocs,
We’ll make you a quite fine feast!”
 
The unsuspecting Murlocs beamed.
“Tell me, have you a pot?”
And at the Tuskarr’s question
A great cauldron out was brought.
The Tuskarr set his pack down
And said, “Now, what have I got?”
 
The Tuskarr opened up his pack
And set aside his hat.
He started to unpack some herbs,
Vegetables, bacon fat.
“Now while the water boils,
Murlocs, let’s have a little chat.”
 
So Mortimer just sat nearby –
A curious scene, he thought.
The Tuskarr sliced some carrots
And tossed them into the pot.
Some onions, too, and celery,
While all of it grew hot.
 
“The time has come,” the Tuskarr said,
“To talk of many things:
Of pigs—of guns—of crab fishwives—
Of eggmen and Lich Kings,
Of countless Kael’thas setbacks,
And of why fey dragons sing.”
 
“Grr-blrrrrgll-grarrrrlllllb,” the Murlocs said;
The Tuskarr said, “Indeed!
Another fine point, Murlocs,
Oh, that I will concede.”
“Brrrr-blarrrrrbgggll,” said the Murlocs;
Mortimer paid little heed.
 
“Aha!” the Tuskarr said, “It seems
The cooking broth is done!
We’re ready to begin!”  But then
He saw he’d have no fun.
For Mortimer already, well,
Had eaten every one.
 
The Tuskarr grew so very mad
And cried, “You little twerp!”
He hardly could believe his plan
The wyvern would usurp.
And Mortimer just shrugged and then
Let out a little burp.
 
Thus concludes our charming tale
Of Murloc genocide,
Of wyvern walrus wandering
And fish-man woe betide.
A happier ending I don’t think
I ever could provide.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

 

[Header image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks.  Click here to see the souped-up Postcard version!]

Songs of Innocence and XP

Posted in EPIC VERSE with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 3, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

mylune3

My first product of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge!  I ended up deciding that this entry would work better as TWO poems working as a set, rather than one. I’ll be working on something new for Thursday, so be sure to give me suggestions in the comments to this post (and obviously feel free to leave actual COMMENT comments too).  So, here we go…

 

The Dryad

Dryad girl, who made thee?
Do you know who made thee?
Who made thee such damaged goods,
Hugging bunnies in the woods?
Made thee DEHTA’s poster girl,
Snuggling puppies till I hurl?
Filled your head with flowers and fluff,
Blind to when enough’s enough;
Dryad girl, who made thee?
Do you know who made thee?

Dryad girl, I’ll tell thee;
Sister, let me tell thee,
Whosoever, ’twas a dick
Who beat you with that nutjob stick.
Took your love of creatures, heaven,
Dialed it right up to eleven;
Firing my exasperation.
With bosom-clasped concatenation.
Dryad girl, release me.
Shut up and release me.

 

The Dyad

Dontrag!  Utvoch!  Deadly dumb,
Endless yapping flapping gums:
What misguided hand or eye
Could frame thy dim stupidity?

By whose diagrams were cast
Your dingy minds, always half-assed?
In what furnace of the dull
Was forged the cogwheels in your skulls?

Whose confounded bright idea
To give you verbal diarrhea?
Strength of thought and length of verse:
That relation is inverse.

Edgewise word was never got,
And no clue have e’er you bought.
Faithful, true, and proud to serve;
But oh the cost: my final nerve.

Rock and hard place, woe the choice
Between yours and the dryad’s voice.
Dammit, I might go with hooves:
The dryad has, but you are boobs.

Dontrag!  Utvoch!  Deadly dumb!
Headaches rise like pounding drums.
What misguided hand or eye
Would hire thy dim stupidity?

 

EPIC VERSE!

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 26, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

mailbag23

Before I get to the mail, I just wanted to mention the results are in for this latest round of You Choose the Next EPIC VERSE.  I’m working on the latest masterpiece now and I’m going to try to have it posted this week, so stay tuned!

Now for the letters.  Just a semi-quick mailbag this week, but a couple doozies…

 

Dear Warchief,

About a month ago A Concerned Citizen wrote in to complain about the mistreatment of a Hippogryph he had received by post.  Unfortunately, I don’t think this was an isolated incident — in fact, there may be a serious problem.  Last week I received a similar crate in the mail.  There were postmarks from at least 20 different places and it must have been in transit for weeks.  The crate was emitting a terrible stench, but I braced myself and pryed it open anyway.  As I feared, the poor wyvern was long deceased, its corpse in an advanced state of decay.  It was the most appalling and enraging thing I have ever had the misfortune to see first hand.  I cannot imagine the suffering of that poor creature as it was shunted from one place to another.

I stood stunned for a moment in shock and horror, (and was seriously considering joining DEHTA myself), when suddenly the most amazing thing happened — I felt something nuzzle my hand.  I nearly jumped out of my skin!  It was then that I realised there WAS something in that crate!  A ghostly wyvern stood in the box, so translucent to be nearly invisible.  Thing is, despite being incorporeal he can still interact with the physical world to some extent, so he can be petted, confined to a padlock, and even ridden just like a normal wyvern!  I’m not sure how this is possible, but I think it might be because the poor beast doesn’t realise he’s dead.  (For instance, he still likes me to feed him wyvern chow.  He doesn’t actually consume it, but he makes eating motions around it and seems satisfied afterward.  To save on gold I found a bunch of kibble-shaped rocks and put those in his dish and he doesn’t seem to have noticed the difference.)  It’s taking a while to get used to flying around on a mount that is, for all practical intents and purposes, invisible.  However, it sure is fun to watch all the jaws dropping as I fly by!

But the reason I write you, Warchief, is that I don’t think this is an isolated incident.  Over the past week I’ve seen other people seemingly flying around without a mount.  It’s hard to tell for sure, but I think people all over Azeroth are receiving deceased mounts in the mail.  I even think I caught a glimpse of a spectral gryphon flying past me yesterday!  I’m not sure what’s going on, but if members of both the Horde and the Alliance are getting dead mounts delivered to them, perhaps there has been a severe breakdown in our postal service worldwide!  I know that wyverns have a place in your heart, so I thought you might want to look into this matter and perhaps prevent the further suffering of these noble creatures.

Respectfully yours,

–Kashina.

PS: I’m attaching a photo of my poor deceased wyvern.  I hope he shows up well enough on that background.

This…just…wow.  I mean I know I was never on particularly good terms with old Antlers McBeardyface, but even for him, this is just…yeah, that’s just sick.

What’s just as bad is that APPARENTLY our old friend Lather-on-us up in DEHTA-land couldn’t be bothered to do anything about this, even after ACC’s original letter last month, but spirits forbid I make a passing reference to browsing in a store for a leather jacket, cause then I get a dozen granola-crunchy druids picketing outside Grommash Hold and starting letter-writing campaigns and throwing buckets of fucking blood at me.

But yeah, enough is enough with this shit.  I still can’t figure out how these people got it into their heads that sending mounts in the mail was any kind of good idea, but whatever.  It’s time to start cracking down.  So for starters, effective immediately, I’m going to start tightening up security in all our wyvern breeding grounds.  Overlord Cliffwalker’s been doing a good job clamping down on the Grimtotem up in Stonetalon, so I’ll see about him assigning some more patrols for the wyverns nests there, and I’m pretty sure we can shift some troops over to Highperch in Thousand Needles now that the Twilight’s Hammer isn’t nearly so active down there.

Meanwhile, obviously if we mean business doing something about some brainstorm sending dead wyverns and gryphons C.O.D., I figure we’re going to need a point person to coordinate things.  So, consider yourself volunteered, Kashina.  I’m appointing you Commissioner of Stop Being a Complete Douche-Tard.  Grats.  And yes, Antlers, we’re talking to you.

 

Dear Garrosh,

Recently I was doing some errands for the Violet Eye – sweeping ghosts out of the ruins of Karazhan and suchlike – when I killed a big ol’ demon and discovered he had your axe in his pockets. Do you want it back? What’s Prince Malchezaar doing with Gorehowl anyway?

Regards,

–Elder Ciaroscuro (not a Lunar Festival Elder)

Hoo boy.  Here we go again.

Yeah, if you could send that back here, Ciaroscuro (and by the way that was a BASTARD to type), that would be great.  There’s been some really weird magical bullshit going on with that axe for a while. I’ll try to explain what I can.

So after my father Grom killed Mannoroth, and lost his own life in the process, the explosion that burst out of Mannoroth’s body sent the axe flying and embedded the blade into the nearby rocks.  It got flung into the rocks with so much force that even Mr. OMG I’M SO AWESOME LOOK AT ME Thrall apparently couldn’t pull it out, either that or it didn’t even occur to him to look around for it, either then OR when he went back to put up Grom’s memorial, because I can’t think of a third option as to why Thrall would ever FUCKING EVER come back without Grom’s axe.

Some point later, Malchezaar came to Azeroth and turned up in Demon Fall Canyon.  None of the other lesser demons there had ever been able to yank to axe out of the rocks, and they generally kept their distance, seeing as having the axe that killed their head honcho right there was probably kind of creepy.  But, Malchezaar figured it would be a pretty good trophy for him to pick up for that very reason, and so after some doing he managed to yank it out of the stone.  Apparently, by the way, he made a big deal about the fact that he was the one that managed to pull the axe out, and how that was an omen that he was destined for greatness and to be king of the demons and what-have-you, and by the way THAT’S when he started calling himself PRINCE Malchezaar, pretentious fucker.

So anyway, he heads off to Karazhan to take up shop.  Only that top level of Karazhan where he hung out was in some weird kind of pocket dimension thingy, like the very top of the tower was poking into someplace called Netherspace, sort of dipping into the Twisted Nether but not quite, or some weird shit like that.  I’m not too clear on the nuts and bolts of it.  But, point is, it’s this strange little pocket of time and space where…well…time and space don’t quite work the normal way.  And that’s where we get into the deal with Gorehowl.

So, Malchezaar had Gorehowl, right?  And at some point some Horde adventurers went in there and handed him his ass, and got Gorehowl from his body, and somehow or other it found its way back to Thrall, who gave it to me.  So far so good.  But every so often, the freaky bizarro zone up there kicks in, and sets off some kind of a time loop.  So all of a sudden, Mechazzar is up and kicking again, and he’s got Gorehowl back on him, and what do you know, poof, wherever Gorehowl WAS, it’s not there anymore.  Because it got time-loop-reset back up to Prince Fancypants up there in Karazhan.

I once tried to ask Nozdormu how this whole time loopy thing could even be possible, and he rambled on at like 90 miles an hour, and just shrugged and said “wibbly wobbly, timey whimy” and looked at me like I just asked why water was wet.  So no help there.

So anyway…yeah.  Every so often, the axe goes poof on me, and I end up having to send a group up to Karazhan to get it back again.  Which, let me tell you, is a huge pain in the ass.  I’m just dreading the day when Malchezaar’s little time loop thingy resets while I’m actually in the MIDDLE of battle somewhere, and have my damn axe vanish on me mid-swing.  I have to remember to start bringing a backup, actually.

 

On a completely separate note, I just got my first application for the new Earth Online guild, <Warchief>.  Let’s have a look at our new aspiring member…

Character Name:

£õk†årøgâr

Class and Level:

Stock Broker

Talent Spec (please discuss any unusual talent choices):

0/0/41 Execution/Advisory/Discretionary Was execution but fuck that shit u gots no power and kill nothing. vry misleading name, discertionary do it all

What do you enjoy most about your class?

money money money buy the best toys and other class beg 4 help n buffs

Previous guilds and why you left:

Scum of the Earth, guild leader give his girl all the phat lootz n she like cant play so drama killed that one

Something Wicked, kicked from this one dunno why

High Finance, cant take a fkn joke. long story.

Previous raiding experience:

yes

Any time restrictions that might affect your raid availability:

i haveto be in bed by 11

Um…okay.

Actually, no, not okay.

First of all, I’m going to try not to dwell on the crazy letters in his name, but…yeah.  Look, dude, you’re really overestimating how hard I’m willing to work to contact you in-game or send you a guild invite.  If I can’t just fucking TYPE your name, then the odds of me sending you a whisper or an invite or whatever drops way, way down.  I don’t speak alt-code.

Also…um…

You know what, I’m not even going to try to go through point for point and break down the problems with this guy.  Not even the retard leet-speak.  Reading it once had made my head hurt enough as it is.  So I’m just going to make an executive decision and say, oops, sorry, turns out our raids all START at 11:00, so I guess that rules us out.  Good luck in your search…um…Guy Whose Asshat Name I’m Not Even Going to Try to Transliterate.

Flown the Coop, as the Saying Goes

Posted in From the Desk of Saurfang with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 2, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

orgrimmar16

Citizens of the Horde,

Interrogation of our various captives carries on, and begins to yield fruit, albeit gradually.  Just this morning, the perspicacious rogue Krog reported to me personally to provide updates on his ongoing questioning of those Grimtotem who were apprehended during out recent operations out of Brackenwall Village.  A good man, that Krog, and thorough.

His questioning confirms what we already knew of the Grimtotem situation – that they had, under the direction of Magatha Grimtotem through her lieutenants Arnak Grimtotem and Isha Gloomaxe, begun to search for the now-infamous phylactery of Cho’gall, so as to strike a bargain with the Twilight’s Hammer cult – while further indicating that thus far, no agreements or alliances had been forged between the two groups.  Indeed, shortly after the nefarious tauren clan began their hunt, the Twilight’s Hammer stepped up their activities in Thousand Needles, resulting in the Twilight capture of several Grimtotem, most notably Magatha…who, as you are already well aware, was subsequently freed through unwitting (nay, witless) Horde assistance.

Nevertheless, I find the timing of these events to be hardly coincidental, and I suspect that the Twilight cult undertook a pointed effort to capture Magatha upon discovering that she and her kin were endeavoring to complicate the cult’s efforts to resurrect the odious ogre Cho’gall.

That relations between the Grimtotem and the Twilight’s Hammer are, to say the least, unfriendly is confirmed by early reports from Garona Halforcen in Silithus.  While Garona finds herself still early in her interrogation of our Twilight prisoners (a process which, I hope, will not be slowed too greatly by the temptation to relish the process), she has been able to confirm a reciprocal disdain for the Grimtotem on behalf of the Twilight’s Hammer cultists.

Meanwhile, I have recruited the aid of the resourceful ogre seer Draz’Zilb of Brackenwall Village, who has already been of assistance in these events to both Krog and to Warchief Hellscream, in the hopes that we might glean some additional information through more mystical means.  Draz’Zilb has theorized that, given the powerful magics involved in the phylactery containment of Cho’gall’s spirit, as well as in its possible release, it may be possible to conduct a divination of sorts through any living beings who were in close proximity to the ogre Skarr when, or if, these necromantic powers were tapped.  This afternoon Draz’Zilb joined me in Orgrimmar to attempt such a divination, to see if any traces of recent spellcasting or magical aftershocks might be discerned through the three entities we know to have been present with Skarr on Alcaz Island (excepting, of course, Warchief Hellscream): the externally monologuing soldiers Dontrag and Utvoch, and the Warchief’s personal wyvern.

Draz’Zilb began his divination with the wyvern, which has finally recovered from its injuries on the island.  (I will hasten to note for those D.E.H.T.A.-friendly among you, incidentally, that I was assured that no harm would come to the wyvern as a result of these magics; I am moreover informed that the Warchief had developed quite a fondness for the animal, and having enjoyed the compansionship of numerous pet worgs in my youth, I am not unsympathetic.)  Draz’Zilb detected signs from the wyvern’s residual magic aura that it had indeed been exposed to a magic outburst of some sort; however, the wyvern appeared uneasy throughout the divination process, and while it was still in its early stages, the process was interrupted by the arrival of Dontrag and Utvoch, which served only to further agitate the animal.  Before our handlers could calm the increasingly emotional beast, it managed to slip from its restraints and fly off.

I have sent a scouting detail to patrol Durotar and its surrounding areas to locate the wyvern, but its whereabouts are currently unknown.  I must admit, given our current situation I cannot say that the recovery of the animal can afford to rank as a high priority, though it would indeed pain me upon the Warchief’s return to have to report that we had lost it in his absence.

I shall continue to keep you updated as events continue to unfold, friends.  Honor go with us all.

 

-Saurfang

Ahn’Qiraj

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 31, 2011 by Garrosh Hellscream

We’re not there yet, but things are starting to come together.

I met up with Garona in Silithus at the Scarab Gate.  Based on the information we’d gotten from Skarr, the phylactery of Cho’gall is in Silithus (And by the way, did I mention I’m getting sick sick SICK of all the running around I’ve been stuck doing for this operation? Would it have killed them to set this all up within a few blocks?), and the final destination is going to be C’thun’s chamber in Ahn’Qiraj – but since we didn’t know whether it was already there, or going straight there, or somewhere else in transit, we decided to hit the end point first and see if we could work backwards if necessary.  So we met outside the ruins and made our way into the old temple.

It’s been years since Horde adventurers fought their way through that place and cleared out the Qiraji that held the area, but it’s still creepy as hell in there.  The walls look like they might as well be alive, twitchy and slimy, and even knowing the Qiraji are gone, you still can’t help feeling like at any second some giant bug monster could jump out of the dirt at you.  You end up walking through the place with the weirdest uneasy feeling, like you’re constantly tricking yourself into thinking you just saw something out of the corner of your eye.

We ran into a small pack of Twilight guards as we got fairly deep into the temple, and I probably don’t need to tell you how that went for them.  (Heh.)  We finally reached C’thun’s chamber in the heart of the temple, where we found a pair of Twilight cultists unpacking several crates of random conjuring doohickies and reagents, arranging them around the room… And by the way, as if the place didn’t already have enough creepy factor going for it, some of C’thun’s remains were still there.  Dead for years and it’s still there, looking fresh enough that you’d half expect it to wake up.  Maybe those Old Gods have something about them that prevents them from decomposing the way the rest of us do when we die.  Curse of flesh, right?  End to end, I’m pretty sure this stop is going to do wonders for my dreams come nighttime…

Anyhow… the cultists weren’t much more of an issue than the guards were, other than the fact that these guys needed to be taken alive, what with them probably knowing the most about what was going on.  Still, it didn’t take too much doing to subdue them, and then Garona and I dragged them off into separate rooms to question them separately.  No comment on how much beating either of them ended up taking.  Just take my word that they’re both still alive.  Mostly.  Can’t go killing THESE cultists just yet, at least till we’re sure we don’t need any more info from them.  Anyway, point is, we were able to get some information from them.

The phylactery isn’t in the temple now, but is being moved around the zone to prevent it from staying in one place for too long.  There’s a Twilight agent going around with an entourage from camp to camp while the cultists here get everything ready for the ritual.  Once they’re ready, they’re supposed to send up a signal, and the courier will know to make the final delivery.

I’m FAIRLY sure I can persuade them to fill us in on how they’re supposed to give the signal.  (Heh.)  Which means that (a) there’s no signal going out until we let it happen, and (b) we can control when it DOES go out.  Which means, now we’re in business.

So here’s the plan.

Garona’s going to stay in Ahn’Qiraj while I head back to Orgrimmar and arrange for a Kor’kron stealth team to head down to Silithus quietly.  We’ll move them into the temple, set up shop, and then once we have the place secured and have all the back exits and trap doors covered, we’ll give the signal for the Twilight courier to bring home the phylactery.  After all, if it’s on the move all over the zone, why spend our time chasing it all over the place, when we can just have it hand delivered, right?

On my way out of Silithus I stopped at Cenarion Hold and talked to Commander Mar’alith.  As a matter of fact, when we were first heading to Silithus, I kind of figured Cenarion support might be handy before all was said and done, so…spirits help me…I sent a letter to ol’ Lather-on-us in Northrend.  I figured since he’s wanting to make nice with me now that he thinks I’m cutting back on the veal (HAH!), he might be able to put in a good word for us with his Cenarion friends.  Pretty much just told him we’re working on an operation against the Twilight’s Hammer, who want to destroy the world, and if they do, it might be bad for the animals.  That perked him up right quick.

So Ma’alith knew I’d probably be coming, and he’s agreed to help with the operation by stepping up the Cenarion patrols of the zone to make sure no cultists leave Silithus without us knowing.  Meanwhile I’m having an entire battalion posted in the passageway between Silithus and Un’goro Crater, and putting the Kor’kron Air Guard on constant patrol around the zone.  Between us and the Cenarions, nobody, but nobody, is getting out of Silithus without our say-so.  Which means the phylactery is sealed up in Silithus, not going anywhere, until we get our people in position to spring the trap.

And speaking of which, on my way up to Durotar, I’m making a stop at Brackenwall Village to talk with Krog and the others.

Hold on tight, kids.  I have an idea.

 

 

[Header image provided by Clara from Come Get tha Voodoo, via Rioriel of Postcards From Azeroth.  Click here to see the souped-up Postcard version!]

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