Spazzle Speaks: Parting Gifts

I usually don’t make a big deal of it, but one thing that honestly irks me a lot is when people assume that because I’m a goblin I must be friends with all the other goblins – like there’s no difference between the Bilgewater Cartel and any of the other goblin cartels.  People just see “goblin” and figure I must have relatives in Ratchet, or know the guy they ran that errand for in Booty Bay.  The fact of the matter is, the different goblin cartels are pretty separate a lot of the time, and having spent most of my life in Kezan prior to the Cataclysm, I hardly had any contact at all with the Steamwheedle goblins who came to settle in Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms.

Funny thing, though – under the circumstances right now, that stuff probably made it a lot easier for me to sneak off to Everlook than it would be for anyone else.  Even with Mokvar banished, the border patrols are still on watch and asking a lot of questions of travelers, but with me?  They see goblin, hear “Everlook,” and automatically think “Oh, yeah, that must be cool.”

So I had a pretty easy time getting up there to see Mokvar.  Deliana was with him, but she didn’t have too much to say.  Neither did Mokvar, actually – at least not as much as I would have liked.  Even when I told him about the banishment, he wouldn’t give me much of anything by way of reaction.  He said something about being surprised Eitrigg would go that far, but he didn’t seem upset – if anything, he almost looked a little amused about it.  Eventually he filled in a few small pieces for me, but mostly wouldn’t go into much detail.  He said it wasn’t because he didn’t trust me, but because he didn’t want me to know too many things that I might have to deny later.  That was fine with me, honestly.  I feel like I’ve already got enough secrets to keep from Garrosh as it is.

The one thing he did fill in for me was about he and Deliana escaping Orgrimmar.  He started right in with that, actually – one of the first things he did when I got there was ask if Ji was okay.  Which he is, by the way.  As it turns out, though, Ji knew all along what was going to happen.  He and Mokvar had planned a while ago that if Mokvar were captured, Ji would gather up some supplies and come see him…and then let himself get knocked out, providing some cover for the escape in the process.  I tried pressing Mokvar about getting past the guards, but he just said something about “guardian angels” and asked me to trust him.

And the thing is, despite everything that’s been happening, I do.  Like Garona said the other day – when you look at everything Mokvar’s done, there are only two ways to account for it: either he has something planned that he can’t tell us about, or he’s a fool.  And Mokvar being a fool…that’s just too hopelessly improbably for me to accept.  So I’m choosing to trust him, until it bites me in the keister.  At least now I know Ji and I are in this together.  Sort of.

Also, the trust definitely isn’t one-sided.  The main reason Mokvar wanted to see me was to give me something: a recall totem.  It’s what we shaman use for our Astral Recall spell – we’ll attune this totem to ourselves, then keep it at home, or in some other safe location.  As long as a shaman is alive, our link to the elements will let us teleport ourselves back to wherever that totem is.  Mokvar gave me his and asked me to keep it safe.  He said that when this was over, he would need a way to bring himself home, but in safe surroundings.  Among friends.  He considered leaving it with Ji, but he figured an extra totem would be less conspicuous with me since I’m a shaman too.

It still feels pretty conspicuous to me, though.  But that’s probably just my imagination.  It’s set out on my mantle now – among a bunch of other elemental odds and ends that I’m hoping will all blend around it, even though to me the recall totem is sticking out like a sore thumb.  Still, I’m sure – I hope – that nobody other than me will think anything of it.  So there it is, giving off that living green glow, with that blinking green light on top.  Waiting for its chance to call Mokvar back home, after the world has finished dragging him back into his past.

 

 

[Header image provided by Angelya from Revive and Rejuvenate, used here with permission and many thanks.]

Spazzle Speaks: Shamans United!

 

Hi everyone, Spazzle here.  There’s been a lot going on, and I’ve been meaning to post for a little while now, but…well, there’s been a lot going on so I haven’t had the chance to until now.

As I’d said the last time I posted, after the news about Vol’jin reached Orgrimmar, everybody was in a state of shock for a while, and some of the Kor’kron were sent down to the Echo Isles to make sure everything was secure there.  I remember Eitrigg seeming less than thrilled about that for some reason, but I didn’t think too much of it at the time.

Still, I was concerned about how everyone was doing down there.  I have a couple friends from the comic shop in Razor Hill who live on the Echo Isles, and I figured that they must have been pretty shaken up by everything.  So last week, after I hadn’t heard from them in a little while, I decided to take a trip down and see how they were doing.

You will never guess who I ran into on the way down.

Thrall!

Now, I can’t say I was ever very close to Thrall personally, but I definitely owe him a debt or two after he helped save the Bilgewater Cartel after we left Kezan.  Not to mention, he’s the one who first started training me as a shaman way back when.  (I changed the subject when he asked how that was coming along.  No need for him to know that my mechanical totems short-circuit nearby appliances nearly as often as they summon up the elements.)  So, as much as Garrosh is my friend and I know the two of them don’t always see eye to eye, I’m very pro-Thrall.

Or pro-Go’el.  I’m not too clear on which one he’s going by these days.

Anyway, he was on his way to the Echo Isles from the Valley of Trials, along with a few Horde adventurers who had just returned from Pandaria.  He didn’t go into a lot of detail, but I guess he was concerned that there was some kind of trouble for the trolls in the aftermath of Vol’jin’s death.  He invited me to come with them, and since I was already concerned about my troll friends down there, naturally I took him up on his offer.

When we arrived at the Echo Isles, there were Kor’kron guards posted all around the perimeter of the island, and patrols marching around all over, without any Darkspear soldiers anywhere to be seen among the defenders.  Which struck me as kind of odd, obviously.  Not to mention the fact that the Kor’kron all seemed to be in a pretty foul mood.

Still, there was a Kor’kron officer along the main road, and Thrall went up to talk to him.  I figured between Thrall’s diplomatic skills, and the fact that he’s…you know…Thrall, he should be able to clear things up pretty quickly.

Hmm.  Okay, so much for that.

We made our way into the city from there, and it was a pretty shocking sight – the Kor’kron weren’t protecting the trolls, they were maintaining an occupation!  The trolls were rounded up, disarmed, supervised by the Kor’kron, and lots of them were even chained up.

I don’t even want to think what Saurfang would say if he knew this was going on.

Thrall wasn’t happy that it had come to this, but he decided we had to free the Darkspear from the occupation.  So the handful of us went around the island and, little by little, helped the trolls neutralize the Kor’kron guards.  Mostly that meant “disarm and capture,” but, well…  <sigh>  You know.

Once we had control of most of the island, we headed to Darkspear Hold, where that warlock Gul’tar, one of Malkorok’s lieutenants, had taken charge of the city and was running things from Vol’jin’s old command center.  Thrall tried to get him to stand down, but he wouldn’t budge.  Gul’tar ended up ranting about the Horde changing and Vol’jin refusing to change with it, and that’s why he died – that didn’t really make sense to me, considering the reports that Vol’jin had died in a saurok attack – and attacked Thrall.  Thrall and the Darkspear were able to beat him without too much trouble.

Now, the question is, what next?  Thrall wasn’t sure where we go from here, but he said he would stay on the Echo Isles to help the trolls keep a handle on things until…well, I’m not really supposed to go into that.  That’s one of the details Thrall said we all needed to keep quiet for the time being.

Hmm… Although…come to think of it…I suppose this whole story would be filed under “Things Thrall Wants You to Keep Quiet.”  So maybe I shouldn’t have just blogged about it.  Oh well.  Just make sure you all keep this hush-hush.

At least there’s still that one last detail that I can be good about keeping secret.

Even as juicy and awesome as it is.

Anyway…ahem…since I won’t be talking about that, I guess I’ll wrap this up for now.  I’ll try to post again if anything else big happens around here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay screw it OMG YOU GUYS VOL’JIN IS TOTALLY STILL ALIVE HOLY GEEZ CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!?!?!

 

 

 

[Header image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click here to see the souped-up Postcard version!  All other images provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant.  All images used here with permission and many thanks.]

The Wizard of Zhan

The curtain rises on the admiral’s quarters in Northwatch Hold, where Garrosh is sitting in a chair, slumped over a central table.  Everything appears black-and-white.

After a moment, Garrosh stirs and looks around the room while rubbing his forehead.  Stage lights illuminate the far edges of the stage, alternating sides, showing brief glimpses of Orgrimmar in flames, being overrun by demons.  The sounds of screaming and demonic laughter can be heard, seemingly at a distance.  The lights at the edges of the stage go out.  Garrosh stands, and the background noise stops.

GARROSH:  Malchezaar… They were able to do it because of Malchezaar…

 

{UP IN THE NETHER}

GARROSH:

Somewhere up in the nether
In the dark,
There’s a demon “prince,” self-appointed,
Calls himself Malchezaar.

Mortimer wanders in and settles near Garrosh as the song continues.

Somewhere up in the nether
Time did break.
You can kill him while he’s up there
But it just won’t take.

Some day I’ve got to drag him down
Out of that place and go to town
And stop it.
The Legion hid him in the cracks.
Sometimes he’s got my father’s axe;
I hope he drops it.

Somewhere up in the nether
Demons hide.
Prince lurks up in the nether –
It’s long since time he died.

If demons get to be revived
Without a timer,
Why oh why can’t I?

Garrosh walks to a window and looks out.  A stage light illuminates the edge of the stage again, this time revealing the burning ruins of Camp Taurajo.

Garrosh steps back into the room and, slowly at first but with increasing speed and urgency, begins running around the room, knocking over and smashing furniture.  Dizzying music fades in as Garrosh continues; he runs around in circles, destroying everything he can reach.  The stage lights dim until the room itself fades from view and the only thing visible is Garrosh – running in circles, lashing at his invisible surroundings, moving with increasing speed until he starts to blur into a whirlwind of anger.

The lights slowly come up to show that the Northwatch Hold tower has been replaced by the deck of a goblin sky galleon.  The ship is spinning in air, such that the rotation of the ship gradually comes to replace Garrosh’s running; he now stands on the deck as the galleon spins around, tossed in circles by a literal whirlwind.

The lights fade to black while the dizzying music continues – growing louder – then a loud crash is heard.  The stage lights come up again, showing the sky galleon wrecked on the ground amid the ruins of Theramore.  For the first time, the scene is visible in full color.  Garrosh is sprawled out on the ground near the wreckage, unconscious.  Mortimer flies in and approaches.  He prods Garrosh carefully with one paw; Garrosh stirs and starts to get up.

GARROSH:  <rubbing his head with one hand while patting Mortimer with the other>  Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, buddy…

Garrosh turns to the wreckage of the galleon and notices a woman’s legs sticking out from under it.

Huh.  She’s not okay, though, whoever she is.  Was.

Garrosh looks around the ruins, then back to the galleon.  As he turns away, several goblins begin to emerge slowly from behind pieces of the ruins.

Hmm… Mortimer, I don’t think we’re in Northgate anymore…  Looks like Theramore…so…so that would make HER—

SPAZZLE:  <running to the wreckage>  The Witch!  She’s dead!  The Wicked Witch is dead!

More goblins appear and gather closer around the wreckage.

GARROSH:  Hang on, the witch?  You mean like a mage?

SPAZZLE:  Well, it’s kind of a blanket term.

GARROSH:  But is THIS one a mage?

KHIZZARA:  Not anymore!

GARROSH:  Yeah, fine, I get it, she’s dead.  What I’m trying to find out is if she’s—

GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE:  She’s dead!

DYSLIX SILVERGRUB:  Dead!

KRIXIL SLOGSWITCH:  The Witch is dead!

KHIZZARA:  Woot!

GARROSH:  Fine, fuck it, I’ll check it out myself.

Garrosh takes hold of the edge of the wreckage and, grunting, lifts it a few feet.

UGH!  GROSS!

Garrosh releases the galleon and it crashes back onto the body.  One hand is left flopping limply out from under the wreckage; a glowing blue orb falls out of its palm and rolls across the ground.

Definitely Jaina, though.  Gotta say, not exactly a glorious way to go out.  <chuckles>  Oh well.  Live on your back, die on your back, right?

The blue sphere rolls further.  In a puff of smoke, Liadrin appears in the sphere’s path.  She is wearing the paladin Lightsworn robes and has the wings of Avenging Wrath permanently glowing on her back.  She leans down and picks up the orb.

LIADRIN:  Are you the one who’s slain the Wicked Witch of the East and freed the Mudsprockets?

GARROSH:  What, Jaina?  Yeah, that was me, I guess.

GOBLINS:  Hooray!

GARROSH:  So hang on, who are all you people?

LIADRIN:  I am the Good Witch of the North.  And the Mudsprockets live here in the marsh.

RAZBO RUSTGEAR:  Under the tyrannical reign of the Wicked Witch of the East!

KHIZZARA:  Not anymore!

GOBLINS:  Hooray!

GARROSH:  Jaina had a tyrannical reign?

SPAZZLE:  Well, more like some pretty strict local ordinances on fireworks and explosives.

KHIZZARA:  Not anymore!

GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE:  Splodey-ville, here we come!

GOBLINS:  Hooray!

GARROSH:  Okay, whatever.  You’re happy she’s dead, I’m happy she’s dead, it’s all cool.  One less thorn in my side, gotta tell you.

 

{WHAM, BAM, THE BITCH IS DEAD}

GARROSH:

Wham!  Bam!  The bitch is dead!

GOBLINS:

Witch?  Which bitch?

GARROSH:

The Proudmoore bitch!
Wham!  Bam!  The Proudmoore bitch is dead!
I landed on her head,
She wished she woulda stood in bed.
Flat splat, the Proudmoore bitch is dead!

GOBLINS:

She won’t stop the goblins now –
Kapow!  Kapow!  Kapow!
So now, let’s open up and blast,
At last!  Let’s rock some rockets!
Wham bam, she got put down,
A new sheriff is in town!
Don’t you frown, the Wicked Witch is dead!

Drazzit Dripvalve approaches wearing a top hat and comically flamboyant ceremonial attire.

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

As Mayor of dear Mudsprocket,
In the shadow of the Witch’s lair,
I welcome you effusively!

GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE:

But it must be proved conclusively,
To know…

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

To know?

GIZZIX GRIMGURGLE:

That blow…

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

That blow?

GIZZIX GRIMGURGLE:

Has utterly, totally,

KRIXIL SLOGSWITCH:

Not just anecdotally!

RAZBO RUSTGEAR:

Determinately, permanently,

GOBLINS:

Undiminishedly gone and finished her off.

SPAZZLE:

I went ahead and checked her out,
And I can say without a doubt
That she’s not just flatter than most:
She’s totally and truly toast.

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

Then today we’ll fire our rockets!
Celebrating free Mudsprockets!
Now spread the word!  Let none neglect!
The Wicked Witch just got shipwrecked!

GOBLINS:

Wham!  Bam!  The Witch is dead!
Which?  Which Witch?  The Wicked Witch!
Wham!  Bam!  The Wicked Witch is dead!
He landed on her head,
She wished she woulda stood in bed.

GARROSH:

Flat splat, the Proudmoore bitch is dead!

GOBLINS:

She won’t stop the goblins now –
Kapow!  Kapow!  Kapow!
So now, let’s open up and blast,
At last!  Let’s rock some rockets!
Wham bam, she got put down,
A new sheriff is in town!
Don’t you frown, the Wicked Witch is dead!

From above, Magatha Grimtotem swoops in, riding her wind serpent Arikara.  Cackling maniacally, she casts chain lightning down at the Mudsprockets, who scatter and try to take cover.

GARROSH:  What the fuck is SHE doing here?

LIADRIN:  It’s the Wicked Witch of the West!

GARROSH:  How many fucking Wicked Witches do you people HAVE around here?

LIADRIN:  Two—

KHIZZARA:  Not anymore!

LIADRIN:  Well, yes, one now.  But this one is even worse than the Wicked Witch of the East ever was.

GARROSH:  Preaching to the choir, lady.

Magatha unleashes another burst of chain lightning; Garrosh and Liadrin dive out of the way.  Mortimer launches into the air, snarling, and swipes at Arikara.

GARROSH:  Yeah!  Go get ’em, Mortimer!

Mortimer’s strike knocks Magatha off of Arikara and sends her crashing to the ground.  Shrieking, Arikara flies out of view.  Magatha gets up and looks at Jaina’s legs poking out from under the wreckage.  Mortimer returns to the ground, landing next to Garrosh.

MAGATHA:  So it’s true!  She’s dead!  <looking around hurriedly>  Where is it, then?  It must be here!

LIADRIN:  <holding up the blue sphere>  Are you looking for this?

MAGATHA:  The Focusing Iris!  Yes!  Once I combine its power with that of the Doomstone—

LIADRIN:  You’ll do nothing of the kind, crone!

MAGATHA:  You think I fear you, elf?  I’ll take it from you if I have to!

Magatha starts to cast another chain lightning, but is interrupted when Garona – sporting the Fangs of the Father wings – unstealths and stunlocks her.

GARONA:  Not so much, Steak Sauce!

GARROSH:  So, who’s this supposed to be now?

LIADRIN:  She’s the Morally Ambiguous Witch of the South-by-Southeast.

GARONA:  Hey.

GARROSH:  You people have some really weird fucking job titles, gotta say.

LIADRIN:  You slayed the Wicked Witch of the East, so it’s only right that the Focusing Iris should go to you as its caretaker…

Liadrin hands the Iris to Garrosh.

What’s important is that it stays out of the hands of the crone at all cost.

GARROSH:  Yeah, don’t worry, I am all about making her life unpleasant…

Arikara swoops by again, startling Garrosh and Liadrin into taking a few steps back; Magatha breaks out of her stun, jumps back, and puts down an earthbind totem that holds the others in place.

MAGATHA:  I may need to bide my time for now, but the Iris will be mine yet!  And as for you, orc – I’ll get you, my cranky, and your little wyvern, too!

Magatha leaps onto Arikara’s back and takes off.

LIADRIN:  She’ll be back.  I hope you can handle powerful enemies.

GARROSH:  I’ve dealt with worse.  Matter of fact, I was working on one just before I wound up here.

LIADRIN:  What enemy was that?

GARROSH:  A demon called Malchezaar – taking him out wouldn’t even be that big of a deal, but I kind of have to get him out of his lair in order to defeat him.

LIADRIN:  Something you would need powerful magic to do?

GARROSH:  Probably.  Magic not really being my strong suit.

LIADRIN:  I may know whose it is.  You want to talk to the Wizard of Zhan.

GARROSH:  The who now?

LIADRIN:  The Wizard of Zhan!  He’s a wise, mysterious mage who lives in the Dark Tower far away.

GARROSH:  So this guy is pretty powerful?

LIADRIN:  Extremely – they say there’s no end to what he can do.

GARONA:  Let’s not get carried away now.

GARROSH:  You know him?

GARONA:  We’ve met.

GARROSH:  So how do I get to him?

LIADRIN:  The tower of Zhan is far to the east of Dustwallow, in the Pass of Dying Winds.  Luckily for you, the eastward Gold Road will take you straight there.

Liadrin points to the yellow brick road beneath their feet.

GARROSH:  Well that’s convenient.

GARONA:  I can go with you, since I know the Wizard.

LIADRIN:  You should get started – it’s a long trip, especially since you’ll be walking.

GARROSH:  Screw walking, I’ve got my wyvern right here.  I can just hop on and fly along the road.

GARONA:  Great!  I can get on behind you and hold onto you.

GARROSH:  Okay, so walking it is.  Grats on the dodged bullet, Mortimer.

GARONA:  Fine.

LIADRIN:  We’ll see you off!  Good luck on your journey!

GARROSH:  Hey, actually…you said this road leads right to Zhan?

LIADRIN:  Yes, it does.

GARROSH:  Even though there’s an ocean between here and there?  Because we’re kind of on a different continent.

LIADRIN:  Yes, but fortunately the road runs across the Willing Suspension Bridge of Disbelief.

GARROSH:  Huh.  Okay then.  Off we go.

Garrosh, Garona, and Mortimer start to follow the road while the Mudsprockets gather behind them.

 

{OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD}

GOBLINS:

You’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan.
We hear he’s sage: the mightiest mage
Who ever met mortal man.
If you seek some sorcery for your plan,
The Wizard’s your man, because he can –
He can, he can, he can, he can, he can.
He’ll have it all done before it began!
You’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan!

The curtains close.

 

{TO BE CONTINUED IN ACT 2}

The fall of Theramore

Victory from the jaws of defeat.

Or, no, that’s not quite accurate.  Defeat was never really in the picture.  This was more victory from under the guide of defeat.

That much sweeter, in a way.  Let the humans think they’d won, right up to the moment that their doom became inescapable.  The moment they realized it was upon them, and had nothing left to do but stand there helplessly and watch it come.

Today was a good day.

 

After we left Northwatch Hold, we marched south and made short work of Fort Triumph.  I couldn’t help chuckling at the irony of the name while we annihilated what passed for its defenses.  I think our soldiers were so eager for battle after the long wait at Northwatch that they threw themselves with ever great ferocity into the fight once it finally came.

The long wait at Northwatch.  To them – what? – six days?

They’ll never know how long their Warchief had been waiting for this moment.

We continued on our way into Dustwallow Marsh and divided our forces at the fork in the road.  Half of our troops traveled north with me, while half went east with Malkorok.  We would meet at Theramore and strike both its gates at the same time.  As my half of the army made its way north, we added reinforcements from Brackenwall Village – Krog and Draz’Zilb among them – then continued on our way toward Theramore.

My contingent was the first to reach the city.  Jaina had recruited aid from the Kirin Tor to help strengthen the city’s defenses against our battering rams and siege engines.  It was a wise decision on her part.  Pity I’d been counting on it.  Me and…what’s his name, the blood elf guy.  I can never remember.  I should probably work on that, seeing as he really stepped up to the plate with more than one part of this plan.

See, Jaina had called in mages from the Kirin Tor to help hold the Theramore gates against our attack.  A powerful mage could reinforce a gate for a good long time against our siege.  As it happened, though, one of those crucial, city-saving mages was a guy by the name of Thalen Songweaver.

A blood elf.

See if you can guess who writes his checks.

Down came the gates, and in came the Horde.

Malkorok’s forces joined ours in the midst of it all, and Captain Drok and the rest of the Horde fleet hit the harbor.  Our troops flooded into Theramore, laying waste to its defenders.  Jaina and her wizard friends did a decent job of chipping away at our numbers from above, but on the ground, none of the Theramore soldiers could hold their own against our assault.

Everything was going perfectly until Jaina’s new blue dragon friend turned up and started dropping boulders and trees over the broken gate.  Kalecgos… I remember meeting him, once, just after Deathwing’s defeat.  Apparently mortality’s left him pretty damn bored these days, because now he had nothing better to do than meddle in battles that were none of his concern.  Problem was – as Baine and Vol’jin were only too quick to point out – at the rate the big lizard was going, he would shore up the opening right quick, and seal us all inside.  At that point, closed in without any further reinforcements from outside, it would just be a matter of time before the mages picked us off.

So, I ordered our forces to fall back.  We cleared out of the city and retreated to the north and west.  We all regrouped just west of the bridge over Dustwallow Bay, overlooking Theramore.  Baine was less than thrilled about how things had gone.  Can’t really blame him, though, considering he wasn’t seeing the big picture.  The foolish tauren thought the siege was all there was to this attack.  For all he could see, this was a loss.

But see, here’s the thing.  When you fight me, there’s never just one piece to the plan I throw at you.  Sure, it would have been nice if the siege had gone perfectly.  But that’s the beauty of it all.  It didn’t have to.

Welcome to fighting Garrosh Hellscream, Theramore.  Evern when I lose, I win.

Sure, you fought off the attack on your gates…  And kept yourselves busy while Drok slipped into the harbor and dropped off a small, elite strike team, who crippled your aerial defenses and recovered our agent Thalen Songweaver.

And sure, you managed to secure that north gate again…  And sealed yourselves in, within the city walls.  With some of the Alliance’s greatest generals, who’d come to aid in the defense.  Closed in together.  Nice and compact.  All in one place.

Boy, it sure would suck for you if I had, say, a giant bomb I could drop on you right now.

Oh, wait.  I do.

Goblin sky galleon.  Blood elf mana bomb.  And the immeasurable power of a handy little relic called the Focusing Iris.

Goodbye, Theramore.

The troops cheered around me as I pointed to our victory and the sky glowed white and purple with the aftershocks of the mana explosion.  Louder and louder, raucous voices all around me.  Some stared in shock, confusion, maybe even…misguided disapproval.  No matter.  Give them time.  They’ll come around.  Eventually, victory wins everyone over.  And we won.

I turned and looked over the bay, holding Gorehowl over my head, taking in the sight of our triumph, of the mark we had left on this world, never to be forgotten.

Deep down, in some tiny, hollow corner, I knew it still wasn’t quite enough.

But it would do.  For a start.

The siege of Orgrimmar

This may wind up being all over the place – so much happening that I’m not even sure where to start.  I’m going to try to cover as much as I can remember, in as much detail as I can, and I’m having Mokvar edit in what he can, both from his notes at the time and also – probably mostly – his best estimates after the fact.  I’m not even sure I should be taking the time to write this all out, but if things go badly from here, I feel like there should be a record somewhere of how it happened.

If you don’t hear any more from me, then this is the story of how the Horde fell.

I guess I should start at the beginning.

 

Our fears based on the scouting reports were justified.  The Scourge force in Winterspring, which by all accounts had grown to massive numbers, swept south into Azshara and across the zone unopposed.  We had early warnings from patrols that they were on their way, but there wasn’t anyone to slow them down, and as news came in I found myself wondering why the goblins weren’t putting up any resistance.  It took me a few minutes to put two and two together and realize that there WERE no goblins in Azshara, because the Bilgewater Cartel in this world had apparently never joined the Horde.

It’s strange how things work in this world.  Every time I flash into this timeline from ours, I find myself dropped into the middle of whatever was going on here.  I still remember where I was and what I was doing in the original timeline, but within a few seconds, I also remember, more or less, what was happening here – at least enough to get my bearings.  And I’ll have these other, scattered memories – or fragments of them.  Images, places, little snippets of things that I’ve done and seen here.  Just enough to get by.  And yet, I wind up drawing a blank on the big picture.  I know what’s happening as it’s happening, but I don’t know how it got to be that way.

So I still have these gaps, like with the goblins, or for that matter the Scourge, or the demons – big chunks of altered history that I just have no idea about, and it’s not like there’s been a point when I could ask someone without setting off all kinds of warning lights.  “Oh hey, you know these major historical events we’re in the middle of, and that I’ve personally lived through?  They’ve kind of slipped my mind.  Give me a quick recap?”  Best case scenario, they decide Garrosh has finally gone off his rocker.

So funny thing, standing on the rampart over the Orgrimmar rear gate, watching those masses of undead coming over the hills, I couldn’t help getting lost in my head for a minute.  Wondering where Spazzle is now.

Zaela directed the main defenses as the Scourge arrived and threw themselves against the gate.  The rampart was packed to capacity with catapults and lined with archers.  Nazgrim led an entire legion of infantry down to take them on directly, striking quickly then backing off under cover fire from the rampart.  Even at the battle of the line at Elrendar, I’d never seen so many Scourge.  We killed thousand upon thousand of them, and yet the fields of Azshara teemed with them endlessly.

Dozens of gargoyles and val’kyr flew past our outer defenses and swooped through the streets of the Valley of Honor.  The Kor’kron air guard dove in to engage, but even they could only keep up with so many of them at a time.  I rushed back inside to help fight off some of the ones close to the ground.  As I was hacking up a val’kyr, I heard someone screeching for help behind me – turns out it was that strange monkey-man Zhi-Zhi that Nazgrim had found stranded at sea, being tugged back and forth between a pair of gargoyles.  I charged in and cleaved them down.

 

ZHI-ZHI:  Ah!  Ah!  Many thanksings, yes, much appreciations for saving Zhi-Zhi!

GARROSH:  What the hell are you even doing back here?

ZHI-ZHI:  Zhi-Zhi, uhh, Zhi-Zhi come for fishings of crawdads!  Nice pond for fishings!  Good for snacks!

GARROSH:  Fishing?  Dude, did you not notice there’s a major battle going on here?

ZHI-ZHI:  Yes!  Yes!  Less competitions for Zhi-Zhi!

 

At that point Dranosh came running in to direct another infantry battalion to the gate and redeploy the units covering the interior stop points.  As he approached us, the ground shook as a deep, rumbling noise echoed around us.

 

DRANOSH:  <looking up to the gate>  What the hell was that?

GARROSH:  I don’t know – did they bring battering rams?  Or maybe they’ve got flesh giants at the gate now?

ZHI-ZHI:  Oh no…

Zaela runs in from the gate as another rumble shakes the ground.

ZAELA:  What’s going on in here?

GARROSH:  That’s not coming from the gate?

ZAELA:  No, I came to try to see what was causing it.

DRANOSH:  Status report back there?

ZAELA:  Getting hit hard, Warchief, but we’re holding.

DRANOSH:  As long as the gate holds, we can pick them off for as long as they want to keep coming.

Another rumble, lounder, crashes through the air as the ground shakes forcefully.  Garrosh stumbles in place briefly before regaining his footing.

GARROSH:  What the hell IS that?

ZHI-ZHI:  <closing eyes and shaking head>  Cracks, cracks, everywhere cracking…closed circle coming…

MOKVAR:  I think that came from the Drag – or maybe the Cleft of Shadow?

GARROSH:  The Cleft of…there couldn’t be anything going on in Ragefire…?

DRANOSH:  Right now I’m not interested in guessing – check it out, Garrosh.  Find out what’s going on back there.

GARROSH:  On it.

ZAELA:  I’m coming too, Overlord.

ZHI-ZHI:  <hands on head>  From within, it consumes…

 

Zaela, Mokvar, and I ran back to the Drag as quickly as we could.  The ground shook beneath us while we ran past one building after another, looking around frantically for any telltale signs.  Finally we ran into the Cleft of Shadow.  And my rage bar hit overload.

They were standing in a circle – about a dozen warlocks, each standing in a glowing, purple rune, with Neeru Fireblade among them, chanting some sort of incantation.  They were all channeling some kind of spell with red-purple ribbons of magic energy flowing from their hands to the middle of their circle, where a swirling disk glowed and shuddered on the ground.  The closer we got, the more we could feel the low trembling of the ground under our feet.  The warlocks repeated every few words that Neeru said as he continued his chant, and they grew louder each time as if they could feel success looming closer.

The swirling disk pulsed more brightly as we closed on the circle of warlocks.  Zaela and I didn’t waste any time worrying about the details of what they were doing – we charged in and started cutting them down.  Mokvar threw a hex on Neeru Fireblade to put a stop to his chanting, then helped us take out the rest.  But with every warlock we killed, the glowing disk only glowed brighter, and as I cut down the final one, with his last breath he just laughed.

 

WARLOCK:  Too late, you fool!  He comes!  He comes!

The disk glows brighter as the ground shakes with greater force.

GARROSH:  What the hell WAS that spell they were casting?  Why doesn’t it stop?

MOKVAR:  Because the real spell wasn’t coming from this side…

ZAELA:  This side?  Of what?

MOKVAR:  The spell they were casting was a locating beacon…

The ground rumbles loudly.  The disk expands and starts to glow bright green.  Zaela pulls Garrosh back to keep the edge of the disk from grazing him.

…to set a target position for this.  For a portal.

The disk gives off one more bright flash, accompanied by a buckling of the ground underfoot, then settles into a duller, steady pulsing.  From the center of the disk, a giant blue man’ari eredar rises up, holding open in one hand a book covered in shimmering arcane runes.  About a dozen terrorguards and abyssals rise up from the portal behind him.

GARROSH:  Oh…fucking hell…

MOKVAR:  Wait, is that…?

GARROSH:  I’m thinking so.

ZAELA:  Who?  Who is he?

The eredar snaps the book closed and waves a hand behind him.  Several domguards and shivarra begin to emerge.

GARROSH:  Malchezaar.

ZAELA:  Wait, Prince Malchezaar?

MOKVAR:  Yup.

ZAELA:  Karazhan Prince Malchezaar?

MOKVAR:  Karazhan-in-the-Deadwind-Pass-where-the-demons-were-gathering Prince Malchezaar, yeah.  That’s the guy.

ZAELA:  Wasn’t he killed?

GARROSH:  Over and over.  Funny thing about that…

 

The first of the demons rushed at us, and Zaela, Mokvar, and I went to work.  Malchezaar did that creepy laugh of his – the one that only a few people should ever have heard but way too many have – as dozens more demons came pouring out of the portal.  Mokvar kept an Earthquake rolling under the demons while Zaela and I stood side by side and slashed them down as they ran at us.

 

GARROSH:  We’ve got to stop them here before they get into the city!

ZAELA:  I think you’re underestimating how many of them may be coming, Overlord…

MALCHEZAAR:  <chuckling>  Yes, yes, Overlord, you do not face Malchezaar alone—

GARROSH:  Yeah, yeah, I know, Squid-Face, everybody’s heard it, the legions at your command, shut up!

MALCHEZAAR:  Oh, no, orc, not the legions at my command – the Legion at His command!

Another deep, low rumble shudders through the ground, accompanied by an even deeper laugh echoing from the other side of the portal.  Slowly, an enormous, clawed red hand rises out of the portal.  Several of the demons turn to look, then cackle hideously.

GARROSH:  That…couldn’t…

MOKVAR:  Oh…oh shit…

Zaela turns to Garrosh and grabs him by his shoulders.

ZAELA:  Overlord…go!

Zaela spins away from Garrosh and charges at a nearby doomguard.  She leaps up, grabs the doomguard by one horn, and uses her grip to flip over its body while wrenching its neck around and snapping it.  Still holding the horn, she flings its entire body into a cluster of succubi, then throws herself into a pack of a dozen felguards while launching into a bladestorm that sends severed limbs flying left and right.

ZAELA:  <glares back at Garrosh as several demons converge on her>  Garrosh – GO!  Warn the Warchief!  Kagh!

The giant hand reaches to one side of the portal, dragging a heavy red arm behind it, and presses against the ground as another laugh bellows from beneath.

MALCHEZAAR:  Oh yes, do – warn the Warchief, Warchief.

MOKVAR:  <looking to Garrosh>  Did he—?

GARROSH:  Later.

Garrosh pulls at Mokvar’s arm and runs toward the exit of the Cleft of Shadow; Mokvar scoops up the still-hexed Neeru Fireblade and follows.  As they rush to the exit, Zaela tears through demons at the portal’s edge, while more emerge by the dozen.  Garrosh turns a moment to look back at her before following Mokvar out to the Drag.

GARROSH:  Aka’Magosh, Warlord.

Garrosh and Mokvar emerge into the Drag with about twenty demons in pursuit.  Horde soldiers on the street turn in surprise at the sight, then run to intercept the demons.  Mokvar turns back to face the entrance to the Cleft and holds his hands toward the stone that forms the cavern.

MOKVAR:  Spirits of Earth, I know I’m still kind of new at this, so please, please don’t pick today to be finicky with me…

GARROSH:  <looking around and grumbling>  “Warchief,” he says.  This world has seriously got to stop finding new ways to be fucked up…

The stone shakes and begins to crack; the cavern entrance collapses on itself just as another pack of demons near it from the other side.  The ground shakes violently as an angry growl rumbles from behind the heap of rock.

GARROSH:  That buys us some time, but it won’t hold them forever.  We have to get to…ah, here we go…

From the gate to the Valley of Honor, Dranosh and Vol’jin rush in with a squad of Kor’kron.  Orcs, trolls, and tauren pour into the drag from either side, running around in confusion as they engage the demons.

VOL’JIN:  How da demons get here?!

GARROSH:  It was the walocks – they were helping the Legion open some kind of portal, and—

The ground shakes again, forcefully, and a deep laugh echoes from below.

—and I think the big guy is with them…

The Horde troops finish the last of the demons, but look around anxiously at the sound of the demonic laughter.  The boulders blocking the Cleft of Shadows passage begin to buckle and shake.

Dranosh leaps onto a broken siege engine, gestures to the crowd with both arms, and calls out loudly.

DRANOSH:  Hear me, sons and daughters of the Horde!  We have been betrayed from within our very home, and the Burning Legion comes into our midst!  I look among you, and know that this is not a battle you dreamt you would fight today – but the battle is upon us nevertheless, and we will meet it!  I look among you now, and see the fear in your eyes – fear for your home, for your family – but I tell you, do NOT fear them!  Remember instead – it was your home, your family, that these very demons defiled!  These same demons who destroyed our beautiful world, who left your fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers lost or forever scarred!  These same demons who today have come – and delivered themselves to the justice they have too long eluded!  The Burning Legion comes today, my friends – and I do not fear them!  I PITY THEM!  Rise up now!  Rise up for the moment we prayed would come!  For Draenor!  For Azeroth!  FOR THE HORDE!

 

I’ve heard troops shouting “For the Horde!” more times than I can count.  I’ve never heard it as deafening as it was right there – just as the boulders blocking the cavern finally cracked and the demons came rushing out.

The flood of demons was met by a raging wave of green and brown and blue as our soldiers threw themselves against the monsters, crashing into them and pushing them back.  Vol’jin called out to a squad of Darkspear shadow hunters, who lined up on the ledge across from the Cleft and rained arrows down onto the oncoming demons, then he ran over to Dranosh.

I started to run past Dranosh to rejoin the fray.  He grabbed me as I passed and pulled me to face him.  His look was grim and urgent, and his eyes were more terrified than I’d ever seen them.  I think a little piece of me died at the sight.

 

DRANOSH:  We need to get the civilians out of here, and we need to get them out NOW.

Captain Drok runs into the Drag, leading a squad of troops.  Dranosh grabs him by his arm as he passes.

DRANOSH:  Drok, I’ll take care of your men – I need you to get up to the Skyway.  I want every zeppelin and gunship we have ready to take off and I want them ready ten minutes ago, do you understand?

DROK:  Yes, Warchief!

Dranosh runs after Drok’s troops, cleaving down a pair of felguards as he goes.  After cutting down a terrorfiend, he looks back over his shoulder at Garrosh, Vol’jin, and Drok.

DRANOSH:  You heard me!  All of you – GO!

 

Dranosh rushed back into the battle, and Drok ran off to the Skyway elevator.  Vol’jin and I split up, him racing to the Valley of Spirits, me to the Valley of Strength.  I ran from building to building – through crowds of panicking citizens – ordering them to the Skyway and trying to herd them into some vague semblance of order.  Droves of orcs and trolls, blood elves, tauren, even some scattered worgen and gnomes.  Humans.  I never thought I’d see the day I’d be racing around helping save humans.  Desperate times.

I KNEW Orgrimmar needed some kind of emergency alert system.

I followed the crowds up to the Skyway elevator near the entrance to the Drag and tried to keep them moving in as much order as a frightened mob could maintain.  All you could hear was the sound of people shouting and screaming and the rising growl of the demons.  Every so often, the ground shook again beneath us.

After one tremor, I felt someone jostle me, and I turned to see a human had bumped into me in his rush to the elevator.

A familiar human.

 

FARANELL:  Wha— Garrosh?

GARROSH:  Hey, Doc, I— DOC!  What are you—oh shit, Soridormi said you might—

MOKVAR:  Doesn’t that mean the timelines are merging?

FARANELL:  <looking around panicked>  What—what’s going on?  What happened to Orgrimmar?  I was…I was walking back to my quarters, and there was a flash, and…

GARROSH:  Yeah, weird dizzy feeling for just a second?

MOKVAR:  It’s the other timeline, Edwin.

GARROSH:  Welcome to the end of the world, Doc.  You picked a great time to drop in…

MOKVAR:  Actually…Garrosh…

A loud crashing sound comes from the back of the city, followed by a rise in the overlapping screams and shouts.  The ground shakes again violently.

FARANELL:  I don’t understand – all this is happening because of what I did?  I mean, the other me?  How—?

GARROSH:  Long story, Doc, and I don’t even know all of it.  <steadies himself after another tremor>  But wait a minute – if you’re here—

MOKVAR:  Exactly!  If he’s here, and we can get him to Soridormi—

GARROSH:  —then maybe THIS “you” can actually fix actually fix fix ytilatrom actually fo fix you raef fix namuh eht fix can esab eurt you rieht ta evah have tcartsba ro a detacitsihpos destiny revewoh emit some of fo some snoitagitsevni some lla some some of some of what’s gone wrong and—

Garrosh looks around the Northwatch Hold admiral’s quarters, horrified.

No – no, no, NO, NO, NO!!

Garrosh lashes out, smashing the table in front of him and pummeling a goblin messenger across the room and into the wall.

MALKOROK:  Hah!  Indeed, Warchief, nor should you stand for such incompetence!  Perhaps you should put an end to his sniveling existence – the Horde can surely afford the loss of one pitiful weakling.  Haha!

 

{TO BE CONTINUED}

Readying for war

Preparations are going well for our moves against the Alliance.  I’ve issued orders to the various leaders for troop assignments and gotten confirmation back.  Begrudging confirmations in most cases, but confirmations nonetheless.  Strangely enough, the only one who seems even remotely jazzed about us going on the offensive is Gallywix, although I suppose it might just be that EVERYTHING seems more exciting when you’ve been hiding in a cave or at the bottom of the ocean or wherever the fuck he’s been all this time.

Granted, I’m pretty sure he’s only enthused because his cartel is getting paid and because he figures taking over Kalimdor will mean a stranglehold on trade.  And I’ll be the first one to admit that I was lukewarm at best about the goblins joining the Horde in the first place.  Part of that was Thrall sending that representative from the Lost Isles with a letter telling me to admit them into the Horde – like, dude, knock it off with the backseat Warchiefing, okay?  I mean I know I was still new at the job and it was a whole “acting Warchief” deal, but come on.  Plus it really didn’t help matters that after he told me to admit the goblins, he decided to be cute and finish the letter with “And yes, I would like fries with that.”

Anyway, though, Gallywix and his people are turning out to be useful as far as getting siege engines built, along with another heavy combat transport or two that may come in handy for a possible part of the Theramore plan.  So at least they’re good for something.

If nothing else, it’s good to finally get this plan back off the backburner again.  I know it’s been a while since I’ve mentioned moving on Theramore, and some of you were probably starting to wonder if I’d just dropped it.  Never was the case.  I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t rushing into a bad game plan out of anger and setting us all up for the whole thing to blow up in our faces.  That and realizing there were a few parts of the original plan that probably weren’t that great an idea.  And then we had that whole anti-plague business start up in Southshore, and off we went to the Caverns of Time…and yeah.  Anyway, now we’re all back – well, at least until the next time the timeline decides to go all KAPOW on us again, but there’s no sense sitting around picking our noses waiting on that to happen.  And everything’s ready to go.

When he had the big council meeting in Grommash Hold the other day, Baine and Vol’jin in particular were fairly grumpy about what I had planned.  With Vol’jin I can kind of understand, seeing as he pretty much just likes to be a pain in the ass.  But I’m not too crazy about this whole vibe I’ve been getting from lots of people since I’ve been Warchief, this whole “Hold on, hold on, I know we’re at war with the Alliance and everything, but OMG we can’t actually ATTACK them like WTF!” deal some people seem to have going on.  Uh, yeah, fuckers, that’s what you fucking DO.

So when I issued marching orders for the first step of our attack plan, I tried to build in a little reminder of what’s actually going on for Baine and Vol’jin.  Baine is going to gather his forces at the Great Gate in Mulgore.  Vol’jin, likewise, is rounding up his trolls from the Echo Isles and take them to Mulgore to join forces with Baine.  Granted, that’s a long trip for them, but it should pay off in a few ways.  One, those scrawny-ass trolls could probably use the exercise.  Two, it helps give the tauren some backup for any fighting they get into as they cross the southern Barrens.  And three, it means that on their way to Northwatch Hold, Baine and Vol’jin will both be leading their people right by what’s left of Camp Taurajo.

I hope they march slowly.  Let them take a good long look and remember what these humans they’re so eager to keep the peace with have done to us.

I’ve got to make a few stops around Orgrimmar to make some final preparations.  With any luck, by the end of the day we’ll be ready to start our march from here.

More updates soon.

Death of the dead

I swear it’s just one damn thing after another around here.  I guess when you’re Warchief there really is no rest for the awesome.  I hadn’t even finished unpacking from my trip to Nagrand, when Sylvanas gives me the latest news from her neck of the woods, and it’s a doozey.

Just before I had left for Outland, Sylvanas’ people – or whatever the hell you want to call them – started running into some problems down in Hillsbrad.  According to her, they started experimenting with some new strains of plague down there based on my orders…you know, when I was fuming and kind of, well, crazy.  Anyway.  While they were at it, though, and running some tests in Southshore, seems they set something off.  Not like a bomb, that is, but for lack of a better word to describe it, it’s like they triggered some kind of anti-plague.

You know that thing in physics about how for every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction?  Yeah, me neither, because I wasn’t a fucking science nerd in school, but still.  From the way Sylvanas tells it, it’s like this thing that hit them in Southshore was the equal and opposite reaction to their plague.  Any Forsaken who were in the vicinity of the experiments got slapped back by it and…well…anti-infected.  That is, it swept through those Forsaken and basically neutralized the necromantic magic that had reanimated them in the first place.  So those undead got the “un” slapped clean out of them, and dropped right then and there, restored back to the forms of their original, pre-risen human and blood elf bodies.  What’s more, the anti-plague has started spreading through Southshore just like a plain ol’ regular plague, which is turning the place into a growing pile of Forsaken corpses that aren’t even recognizably Forsaken anymore.

I’m having High Warlord Cromush send as many of his troops as he can spare down from Tarren Mill to try to secure the area while we work on figuring out what’s going on.  In the meantime I’ll be trying to coordinate with Sylvanas’ apothecaries to figure this out.  I’m guessing this might be the kind of thing some of the goblins especially might be able to sink their tinker-happy teeth into.  As far as the Forsaken are concerned, Southshore is now a quarantined area.

And I know what you’re probably thinking, why am I going to knock myself out to keep this thing from taking out the undead?  It’s not like I’ve ever been much of a fan of them, right?  Well, for one, if you take the Forsaken out of the equation all of a sudden, now you’ve got a huge void in Horde forces in Eastern Kingdoms without orcs or tauren in place to maintain our holdings.  Hell, as it stands now, even with this thing just taking out a chunk of the undead in Southshore, we’ve got worgen swarming in trying to make their move on the place already.  Can you imagine what happens if it spreads up through Silverpine into fucking Tirisfal Glades?  What do you think the Alliance will do if they catch wind that the Forsaken are weakened and Lordaeron is vulnerable?

So that’s one thing, the tactical side of it.  And then there’s this: it’s my fault this is happening.  Whatever this thing is, Sylvanas’ people set it off after I ordered her to start up her plague research again.  I gave the order, she got her apothecaries going in Southshore, kaboom.  By the time I came to my senses and ordered her to put a stop to it, it was already too late – news of the anti-plague was already on the way.  If I hadn’t given them the go-ahead, there wouldn’t have been any plaguey business going on down there in the first place, and none of this would have happened.  I basically ordered Sylvanas’ people to their (un)deaths without even knowing I was doing it.  So I think I owe her on this one.

Updates to follow.  I have a few meetings to get to today concerning all of this.  I’ll keep you all posted on where this goes.

I am become death

If you’ve been paying attention lately, you might have noticed I’ve been having a lot of contact with some of our people down in Brackenwall Village – Krog about the goings-on in Stonetalon, Draz’Zilb about his potential uber-corruption spell.  It hasn’t been a coincidence.

No surprise to anyone that I’ve been on a pretty steady boil ever since I realized that Varian and Jaina were in the guild and must have heard me talking about where I was going with my mother last week.  I don’t know why I should be shocked by anything these humans do at this point.  Thing is, though, Varian I can at least see.  I mean, make no mistake, I hate that motherfucker, but at least it makes sense for him to have it in for me as well, and he’s not one to make any pretenses about it.  We’ve had bad blood going back to the Violet Citadel, probably further, not to mention he’s a hateful dimwitted warmongering orc-hating bigot, so of course he would grab any opportunity to strike at me.  And if an innocent has to die in the process, all the better.  It’s Varian.  I get it.

But Jaina?  THAT sticks in my craw.  Let’s even set aside all the joking around and clowning I do on her and all the cracks about her being a slut which granted they’re totally true but not really germane to the conversation right now.  But this is the woman who tried to play herself off as Little Miss Peacemaker.  Always playing the diplomat, coming off like she’s the level-headed human willing to yank Varian back when he’s being an asshole (which, admittedly, probably kept her pretty busy).  Always hiding behind her incomprehensible friendship with Thrall, like that made her better and nobler than the rest of her kind.  Like she just wants to be our friend too.

And she was a part of this.  Even if she wasn’t taking action herself, she knew.  She was there.  And all the while she probably kept on wearing her “Oh dear me, why can’t we all work together?” fake smile.

So guess what our first target is going to be.

I’ve been meeting with General Nazgrim to work out the logistics for our first strike on Theramore.  We’re planning two waves.  The first will be a ground strike launched out of Brackenwall, hitting the main gate of the city with several infantry detachments with artillery support.  That initial wave will serve two purposes: one, to break down the city’s outer defenses and allow our troops to make their way inside, and two, to keep Theramore’s defenses focused on the main gate, while the second wave comes in by sea and hits the harbor.

The second wave will be the key one, and deceptively small.  We’ll be bringing quite a few ships, but very few troops aside from the actual crews necessary to navigate the vessels.  The real purpose of the naval strike will be to hit the harbor, land, and get a single squadron to deliver the real centerpiece of the attack: Draz’Zilb, bearer of the new experimental chain corruption spell.

Remember how I mentioned Draz’Zilb’s spell sounded promising, but needed to be tested until controlled conditions?  Well Theramore is going to be our field test.  Our troops are going to get Draz’Zilb into the city long enough for him to find a decent-size cluster of humans, cast the spell, and then get back to the harbor while the chain reaction begins.  Once the spell is deployed, our incursion group will fire off a signal to let all our troops know it’s underway.  At that point, EVERYONE will head to the ships – the ground troops near the front gate can be making their way around the outer walls toward the shore – and then get out of there by sea.  Hence bringing so many ships when we didn’t have that many troops in the naval group.

It works out perfectly, really.  Theramore makes the ideal test target: a solitary human colony, densely populated but easy enough to isolate.  As much as Dustwallow Marsh is swarming with life, it’s mostly spiders, crocolisks…nothing that isn’t expendable.  Black dragonkin, the last leftovers of Onyxia’s brood?  Good riddance.  Yeah, a couple Grimtotem settlements, but do you think I’m going to shed any tears over them?  The whole marsh is separated from the rest of Kalimdor by mountains and sea, perfectly enclosed.  No spreading of the chain corruption beyond that one zone, however it plays out.

I love when things work out neatly like that.

Nazgrim and I are getting the last details sorted out.  I even got a couple of the goblins from the Gob Squad to come in and put together a scale model of Theramore and its environs for us here in the war room, to help plan out troop and ship placement.

The only small wrinkle is the ogres in Brackenwall, seeing as we don’t want to end up wiping them all out with the corruption.  Would be kind of rude, what with it being Draz’Zilb’s spell and all.  So I’m having most of the ogre population – the ones who won’t be going on the actual attack – relocated temporarily to Alcaz Island.  They’ll be safely isolated there until everything blows over, plus we can even use the island as a staging ground for the naval strike.

Preparations are already underway.  I’ve had the ogres moving in small numbers for the last couple of days, so we can do it gradually enough not to draw attention.  A couple more days and they should be safely situated on the island, and then we’ll be ready to start.  And if things go according to plan, pretty soon Sylvanas’ plague will have some competition over on the other continent.

 

 

[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!]

Aromatic Orgrimmar

Okay, so, there weren’t any suggestions for today’s installment of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge, so instead, I went back to some of the previous posts and basically yanked together a few different ideas that I hadn’t used yet.  Hence today’s installment!  Just one left, guys — this Thursday will be the last entry in our April full o’ EPIC VERSE, so I’m counting on you all to dig down deep and give me some good options to work with!  Don’t drop the ball here, folks!  YOUR WARCHIEF HAS SPOKEN!

 

A bastion standing strong in harsh terrain,
The solitary hold of Durotar,
Where all misguided sieges fall in vain:
Behold the shining might of Orgrimmar.
The sights familiar glimmer in our eyes,
And sounds echoing in ears for all to tell,
But in the Spirit Valley, what surprise
To find the touchstone sense would be the smells.
To south, the goblin stench of industry
With Kaja’Cola undercurrents waft;
To north, the pungent herbal potpourri
That trolls with hookahs spew so very oft.
     And truly, that’s the scent that takes me back,
     To days in Northrend sniffing ’round Zul’Drak.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

 

[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]

Locks in Socks

Today’s installment of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge – as always, keep those suggestions coming for next time in the comments section!

 

Locks
Socks
Docks
Brox

Brox on docks.

Locks in socks.

Brox on locks in socks on docks.

Socks on Brox and locks on docks.

Locks in socks on Brox on docks.

Trolls with bowls smoke.
Trolls with poles poke.
Trolls with poles poke bowls till holes broke.

Trolls extol their hole poke goals and
Trolls console their souls, smoke bowls and
Troll patrols troll souls with smoke and
Troll bowl smoke soaks folk who choke.

First I’ll make a troll bowl smoke hole.
Then I’ll make a troll pole poke hole.

You can make a troll bowl smoke hole.
You can make a troll pole poke hole.

And here’s a new goal, Mr. Brox…
Socks on trolls who troll on locks.
Locks on docks steal souls from trolls and
Trolls sans souls put pox on locks.

Now we come to DoTs and HoTs, sir.
DoTs and HoTs go tick and tock, sir.
DoT go tick and HoTs go tock, sir.
Try to say this, Mr. Brox, sir.

DoTs on hawks tick.
HoTs on Brox tock.
Six sick clicks DoT
Six hawk flocks up.

Hawk flocks DoT-up
Shock stalks fel pup.
Fel pup stalks hawk flocks to hell, yup.
Hawk flocks’ yell shocks fel pup locks and
Fel pups smell up dell on walks.

Now you try it, Mr. Brox, sir.
It is time we let you talk, sir.

“Please, sir.  I don’t like this game, sir.
I am not this frigging lame, sir.
I get all the trolls and docks, sir,
Mixed up with the souls and socks, sir.
I can’t do it, Mr. Lock, sir.”

I’m so sorry, Mr. Brox, sir.

Here’s an easy game to play.
Here’s an easy thing to say…

Mean orcs.
Clean forks.
Seen forks?
Green orcs!

Green orcs eat pork meat with clean forks.
Clean orc forks beat sweet pork spleen corks.

Green orcs put clean forks in spleen meat.
Mean orcs put corks in sweet Tweet greet.

“That’s not easy, Mr. Lock, sir.”

Who limps?
Imp limps.
Sly wimp imp limps.

Who stocks sly wimp imps with limps?
Locks in socks stock imps with limps.
Wimp imp limps shock locks in socks while
Locks’ wimp imps stock box of socks.

Sly imps spy on locks in socks and
Spry imps, my, throw rocks at locks.
Limp rocks imp walks, blimp sky high! and
Wimp imp pimps for succubi.

“Hold on, hold on!  That was stretching!
Those last few have got me retching!
That last one was rather lewd, sir.
I think you are very rude, sir!”

Sorry, sorry, Mr. Brox, sir.
Let’s continue our nice talk, sir.

Chen comes.
Genn comes.
Chen’s friends, then some.
Chen brings Genn cheer.
Genn brings Chen beer.

Genn mends Chen’s cheer.
Chen blends Genn’s beer.
Chen’s blends.
Genn’s mends.
Chen-blend beer spills.
Genn-mend cheer fills.

Chen’s chums.  Genn’s glum.
Chen’s friends bend some.

Chen’s friends bend Genn’s cheer austere and
Genn’s blend tends to clear Chen’s fears.

Chen’s friends!  Ten friends!
Mend Genn!  When, Genn?
Chen’s ten friends send beer to Rend, sir.
Genn’s glum trend, forfend, the end, sir.

“My poor mouth can’t say that.  No, sir.
My poor mouth is much too slow, sir.”

Well, then…let’s relieve your lungs.
I will lift this Curse of Tongues.

Let’s have a little talk about squabblin’ goblins…

What do you know about squabblin’ goblins?  Well…

When squabblin’ goblins bicker,
It’s called squabblin’ goblin babble.

And when they babble even quicker,
It’s called squabblin’ goblin gabble babble.

AND when squabblin’ goblins babble during Scrabble in a gabble,
They call it a squabblin’ goblin Scrabble gabble babble.

AND…

When goblins squabble goblins in a Scrabble gabble babble
And the goblin gabble babble is a quibble over Scrabble,
…they call this a squabblin’ goblin Scrabble quibble gabble babble.

AND…

When the goblins have these quibbles over Scrabble when they babble and the goblins scribble gabbles over Scrabble taking “tribbles”…
…they call this a quibble babble tribble gabble squabblin’ Scrabble goblin scribble.

AND…

“Lock in socks, that’s quite enough, sir.
I won’t say this silly stuff, sir.
All this babble hurts my head, sir.
I’ll go back to being dead, sir.”

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

(Side note, by the way – I really feel like this poem, and Orc Lemon Squares from the other day, are really screaming out for illustrations.  So if any of you are artistically inclined and think you might be interested in helping to enhance your Warchief’s EPIC VERSE to its fullest potential, contact me at garrosh1337@gmail.com.  THAT IS AN ORDER.)

 

 

[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]