Archive for gorehowl

The Liebster Award comes to Orgrimmar

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 14, 2014 by Garrosh Hellscream


So this one was a surprise.  Here I was, going through my volumes and volumes of fan mail LIKE I GET ON A DAILY BASIS, and lo and behold, I get a message from someone nominating me for an award.  The someone in question was Myriade, writer of Myriadoscope, and the award in question was something called the Liebster Award, which I didn’t really know anything about at the time but which I could already say with confidence that I DAMN WELL FUCKING DESERVED.

So I did a little looking around to see what the deal was with this award, and what I would need to do to beat out the other nominees to win it, like if there was honorable combat involved because holy crap you know I would be all over that shit, but, come to find out, it doesn’t work that way.  There’s no final WINNER, just a chain of nominees naming other nominees to draw people’s attention to other blogs.  Which is kind of cool, as far as spreading the word about good reads, even if it IS a little hippie for my tastes what with the “we’re all winners!” vibe, which, come on.

Anyway.  Here’s the quasi-official description of the award, which everybody seems to be quoting, because it’s the hip thing to do these days:

Well, it is only an AWESOME award given to up and coming bloggers. Given by other up and coming bloggers. It’s a cool way to find other blogs and feel like you are getting into the blogging stratosphere. It is simple, you get nominated by someone else, mention their page and a link to their blog in your Liebster Award Post, answer the 11 questions they give you, then tag 11 other nominees and give them a new set of 11 questions to answer.

So, as you can see, receiving the nomination means I have some work to do now.  FUCKING AWESOME IDEA FOR AN AWARD, FOLKS, HONOR PEOPLE BY STICKING THEM WITH FUCKING HOMEWORK.  Anyway.  Here are the 11 questions from Myriade:

1.  Favourite race/class in WoW and why?

Quick note on the lingo here: Those of you who aren’t as internet-savvy as yours truly might be a little thrown off by that “WoW” acronym.  Apparently it’s a new thing in online circles to use that as an abbreviation for “Whole of World,” as in, fucking everywhere.  Which, granted, is kind of like how some people will literally say “LOL” now rather than just laughing, which I’ve never really gotten on board with myself, because fuck those assholes.  Anyway.

As for the actual question, I mean, come on, you even need to ask this?  Orc, because what the fuck else would I want to be, and warrior.

2.  Achievement/Title you’re proudest of?

Obviously, the easy answer here is the title of Warchief.  Hard to top that one.  Still, I could probably make a case for Chieftain of the Warsong Clan, since that one came from me pulling my emo head out of my ass to assume my place as leader of our clan and Grom’s successor.

But, nah, I’m still going to go with Warchief.

Although, since I’m probably going to be heading down to Blackrock Mountain soon, I may have to see about picking up [Leeeeeeeeeeeeeroy!] while I’m in the neighborhood.

3.  What’s in your bags (any character, or all of them)?

Huh.  I’m not sure if this is asking about real life, or my Earth Online characters.  I mean, for myself in reality, I don’t really walk around with a whole lot of stuff on me.  (Such as, you know, a shirt.)  I try not to weigh myself down more than I have to, seeing as I need to be ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice, and really, keeping Mannoroth’s tusks balanced on my shoulders can be a tough enough job on its own, without lugging extra crap around with me.

As for my EO toons, hoo boy, they have flat-out TOO MUCH stuff in their bags.  Just tons of random crap, receipts from vendors, little odds and ends that they’ve picked up but aren’t really useful for anything but I still haven’t ever gotten around to tossing.  And by the way, I just have to ask, who the fuck is the psychopath over at Genesis Entertainment who designed the bag system in Earth Online?  Dude, you can’t carry fucking ANYTHING with you!  You pick up like six or seven things, and your bags are full.  Have these game designers never left their houses or something, so they don’t even know about stacks of 20?!

4.  Favourite expansion/instance/boss fight?

Huh.  Another Earth Online question.  Okay.  Well, there’s still plenty of content I’ve never gotten around to, to be honest, but I’m pretty fond of the BlizzCon raid.  It’s always kind of a hoot seeing which random contestant spawns you get in the cosplay gauntlet leading up to the Joker Jay <Host with the Mohr– er, Most> boss.  But I think my favorite encounter is the Lore Panel council fight — you know, the one with the lead quest design guy, and the historian adds, and most of all the council leader guy, Chris what’s-his-face, the dude with the beard who kinda sounds like Varian.  I LOVE getting to run up and smack that guy in the face.  Especially if it’s one of those pulls where he randomly mind controls me for a minute and makes to do some shit that doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.

5.  Pet peeve in WoW?

Wait, you want me to narrow this down to one?  I don’t know about that.  But here’s a few, off the top of my head:


Gnomes. OMFG gnomes.

Whoever it is who keeps using the last of the toilet paper in the Grommash Hold outhouse and not putting out a new roll.  (Your Warchief does NOT like having to do the Waddle of Shame over to the storage shed.)



“There”/”their”/”they’re”.  Because FUCK YOU, internet:


Varian, especially the way he keeps breathing.

Being corrected on which one is Dontrag and which one is Utvoch, as if anybody really gives a shit.

6.  What inspired your blog?

I think I mentioned this way back in my first post.  It all got started when Eitrigg recommended I take up blogging.  He said I might find it a helpful outlet, to talk about what’s on my mind, keep a running record of my experiences, all that sort of thing.  I think he figured it would give me a chance to reflect more, and think about situations before acting.  Or some lazy old man shit like that.  Anyway, that’s how it got started, and it’s just been a gravy train of awesome since then.  AREN’T YOU LUCKY.

7.  Favourite blog-related moment?

Umm… Well, considering I detail almost everything that happens to me here, pretty much any moment from the last couple of years would be a blog-related moment, right?  Gotta say, that one mailbag where Windblossom wrote in about clocking Varian still gives me all kinds of happy.  Memory lane:


I’m sure there others.  I might point out others as I think of them.

8.  One thing you can’t live without?

Okay, okay, go ahead and make your joke about lemon squares.

Real answer?  Sappy as it sounds, Gorehowl.  Not even for what an awesome weapon it is, either.  Having it with me is like a constant, living (but not) reminder of where I’ve come from, of the legacy of my father and the resilience of the Horde, of everything our people have endured and overcome.  Having it with me is like a validation of our kind.  Like a little part of Grom is still here, watching what he enabled us to become.

9.  Place you’d most like to visit?

Hmm.  You know, I’ve gotten around a whole lot the last few years, between the Northrend campaign, and all my inspection visits around Azeroth, and now all our work in Pandaria…  I’m not sure if there’s really anywhere I haven’t gotten to see at this point, other than, like, other planets and shit.  Or, say, getting to see places I know, like back home on Draenor, back before things got all fucked up.  But that would be changing WHERE I’d most like to visit to WHEN I’d most like to visit, which is cheating, for one thing, and also, FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.

10.  Favourite fictional character?

At the risk of being repetitive, this guy:


I mean, can you imagine if someone like that actually existed?

11.  Soundtrack to your life?

Well, most days, when things are going fairly well, it’s pretty much this:



But there’s also this:



And this:



(Also, in that one, note the Mortimer cameo at 3:24!)

And, let’s face it, given the clowns I usually have surrounding me, some days I feel like it might as well be this:



And last but not least, if I’m honest, when I’m in one of my more puckish moods, this:



Also, the kazzoo?  That’s totally me.


So, next up.  This is the part where I’m supposed to link 11 more blogs, and give those bloggers 11 questions of their own to answer.  One problem, though — I was going back through some blogs to tag, and while there are a few that still haven’t gotten a nomination already, for every one I found that no one had gotten to, there were like 10 would-be nominees that were already off the table.  So, you know, if you do the math there, that means that in order to pull together my 11, I would have to rifle through something like 110 blogs, and, I mean…I’m just way too lazy for that shit.  I mean really.

SO.  Here’s where I cheat a little and change things up, so I can still do some tagging and point some attention to some worthy bloggers, while also indulging my laziness.  STAND BACK, BITCHES, because your Warchief is about to flip the script like Lor’themar flips benches.

SO, here’s the deal.  I’m still going to toss out 11 questions to be answered, but instead of scraping together a blog list to tag, I am tagging…YOU.  That’s right, you — if you’re reading this post, consider yourself tagged, so you scroll your ass right down to the comments and post a reply with your 11 answers.  NO DUCKING OUT ON THIS COMMAND FROM YOUR WARCHIEF, PEOPLE.  Especially if you’re one of my regular readers and commenters — I know you’re out there, and I know who you are, and most importantly I KNOW WHERE MANY OF YOU LIVE.

And now, the questions.  READ ’EM AND WEEP.

  1. Do you write a blog?  Link it here if so!
  2. What was the first Azerothian blog you ever read?  Was there an early memorable post that hooked you?
  3. Recommended reading, part one!  Link and endorse three bloggers that you’d encourage your fellow readers and minions should check out.
  4. Recommended reading, part two — link one single post, from wherever, that makes you think “OMG, people HAVE to read this.”
  5. How long have you been reading the Command Board?  What post or storyline was your jumping-on point?
  6. One more chance for shameless self-promotion: Are you on Twitter?  Give yourself a non-Friday #FF here if so.  Also feel free to recommend a few accounts worth following.
  7. What class do you play on Earth Online?  (Don’t try to deny that you play.  I know my readers.)
  8. What real-life ability to do you wish your Earth Online character could use?
  9. Here, I’ll throw a bone to Utvoch.  The age-old hoof question: Fem-taur or draenei girls?
  10. Whose head would you rather have on a pike, Varian’s or Magatha’s?
  11. If the world were going to end (or change substantially) in, say, oh, six months or so, what would be your bucket list of things you’d want to get done first?

There, you have your assignment.  Get to it!  YOUR WARCHIEF HAS SPOKEN.

Clobberin’ time

Posted in Comics with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 11, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream


[OOC Preliminaries:  Okay, so yes, I know, I’ve been criminally slow in updating the blog.  I’ve been caught in an all-too-busy real life these last few months, and even when I have had some free time after work, I often haven’t had the mental energy to work on anything that required much focus.  And I didn’t want to just toss stuff on here that was half-assed.  Whole-assed only for my readers!  (That sounded better in my head.)  Anyway, thank you for your patience.  I don’t want to make any sweeping promises that I won’t end up keeping, but I should be able to get back to more of a normal schedule from here on.]

[Also:  Don’t think I’ve forgotten about my idea to do a blog-friends Siege of Orgrimmar group!  More on that very shortly!]

[Also also: DAMMIT, Blizzard, I already DID that idea.  FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.]


So, getting back to the long-overdue story of what the hell happened in those caves.  More specifically, what the hell happened after I turned that corner and found Varian giving me the OH HAI GAIS face.

How about THAT, by the way, huh?

So, yeah, as you might imagine, Varian and I were pretty quick to recognize this as the opportunity it was for the two of us to sit down and hash out our differences like adults.










For whom the bell tolls

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 11, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream


Well THAT was a big whole production to go through for not much of anything.

Last night, I gathered a select group of Horde personnel at the Emperor’s Reach – an ancient, abandoned mogu structure that we found in Kun-Lai – to finally tap into the power of the Divine Bell.  Malkorok brough a battalion of Kor’kron troops to oversee the proceedings, including some who were hand-picked to have the honor of being the first to be gifted with new power.  The best of the best.  Juggernauts.


Blademaster Ishi was on hand as well, along with a few other select Horde heroes from the Pandaren campaign, and once everyone was gathered and ready, I took up the hammer…mallet…um…weird-looking club doohicky?  Look, for honest, I’m not sure WHAT that thing was supposed to be.  But it was better suited for ringing a bell than Gorehowl would have been, so whatever.  Point is, I cracked out that bad boy, and for the first time in who-knows-how-long, the Divine Bell rang.


And so marks the last point in the evening that things went to plan.

As the Bell rang, we could see the dark, shadowy outlines of bizarre, twisted creatures appearing on the platform.  Transparent and shifting, but just enough to know they were there.  So THAT’S what these sha look like.  Up to this point, I’d only seen them in bits and pieces – claws mostly – when they’d partly seized onto other people.

Yes, I said “partly.”  I wouldn’t have thought that what happened to Burzum was only partial corruption by the sha.  Little did I know.  Because now, I was treated to a front-row seat as, one by one, the sha descended onto our Kor’kron juggernauts…and transformed them into sha themselves.  They were horrible to behold – I can see why the pandas and even Tak-Tak yammer on about steering clear of them.  I tried to urge the Kor’kron on and encourage them to seize control of the sha energy coursing through them, but no such luck.  They couldn’t.  They lost themselves to it.  And in the end there was nothing to be done but for the Horde champions on hand to slay the Kor’kron-turned-sha before they ran out of control.

Clearly, Malkorok had overestimated the mental toughness of that first batch of Kor’kron.  I was just about to let Ishi show the rest of the bunch how a true veteran of the Mag’har does it, when I was interrupted by a surprise visitor.

Want to know who?



Yes, THAT Anduin.


Anduin Wrynn, Prince of Stormwind.

Anduin fucking Wrynn, Prince of Stormwind, former prisoner of General Nazgrim until who the fuck even knows what happened I mean WTF, and newest volunteer to be a speechifying hemorrhoid on my curvy brown ass, because, hey, why not give fucking EVERYONE a turn at this point, right?

So, yeah, fucking ANDUIN comes strolling on up like it’s something to do – props, by the way, to my alleged BODYGUARD Malkorok for the crack security job there – and starts yapping away about the dangers of the Bell, and Garrosh-you-mustn’t.  You know, the ol’ Baine-Vol’jin standard.  Same tune, different verse.

Worked just about as well for him.  I shrugged him off and rang the Bell again, and this time, the sha magic descended onto Ishi.  Unlike the initial Kor’kron, he actually put up a fight and resisted…for a moment, anyway.  Then, after a minute, he was altered into a sha as well.  Except in his case, even with his body gone, his voice remained.

His voice, but not his words.

While our champions fought to subdue him, Ishi started spewing out words consumed by fear and rage and despair.  No sign remaining of the strong, brave orc I knew, despite my urging for him to retake control.

In the end, there was nothing left – again – but for our champions to put him to rest.  But of all his rantings before he fell, there was one that kept echoing in my thoughts.

Why should we be slaves to honor, when we could slaughter the children of our enemies while they sleep?  My blade thirsts for Alliance blood!

Control your anger, I told him.  There is killing, and then there is murder, I told him.  We’re not the ones who murder innocents.  We’re no the ones who kill children, confused and far from home.  Left to rot in a festering swamp.  Baited into a coward’s trap, tricked into an early death by a vainglorious king…

And then I looked up to find the presumptuous whelp of Varian Wrynn yipping at me.

He was fourteen years old.

Among the orcs, that made him a man.

The human brat used some mallet to crack and silence the Divine Bell, and I was far past my threshold for patience.  I swung my hammer at him.  He ducked out of the way, and the blow slammed into the Bell, which was already cracking apart.  The Bell shattered, and the pieces crumbled onto the whelp, burying him under a massive heap of metal and stone.  I could hear him cry out as his bones snapped.  Then silence.

Good.  Let Varian have a taste of true suffering.

It’s back to the drawing board for us.  For now.  I’d underestimated the effort it would take to master this sha power.  Ishi and the others were too weak-willed, and they failed me as a result.

This is what I get for not taking matters into my own hands.

When the time comes, soon, I won’t repeat their failure.  And I won’t repeat the mistake of delegating our fate to lesser orcs.  Too much depends on it.  Too high a price already.  The Horde will pervail, strong, proud, united in purpose – a rebirth of glory.  And it all depends on me to lead the way.  It’s ALWAYS depended on me.  I see that now.

I won’t fail.  I CAN’T fail.

I have a destiny.

I’m the One.

Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge: EPIC VERSE live blog

Posted in EPIC VERSE with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 14, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream


Those of you who were reading the blog last year at this time will remember Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge – when, in honor of National Poetry Month, I called upon my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS to give me suggestions for a whole slew of EPIC VERSE masterpieces.  You all stepped up to the plate (well, those of you who were here at the time…and for those of you who weren’t, WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?), and we had a month full of EPIC VERSE goodness.

This year, as I announced a couple weeks ago, I’m continuing the Poetry Challenge tradition with a live blog.  Yes, that’s right, it’s the SECOND ANNUAL Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge – sure to be an annual tradition for years and years to come.

For tonight’s lyrical explosion of spontaneous awesomeness, I’m once again calling on you all to inspire your Warchief.  Here’s how this is going to work: when this post goes live, you’re all invited to use the comments to post your ideas and suggestions – you can give topics, themes, characters, turns of phrase, ANYTHING you think might make for a good starting point to give me ideas for what I’m going to write.  (Try to keep your suggestions here in the comments, rather than Twitter/Facebook/wherever, so your fellow readers and I can see them all in one place.)

Starting at 8:00 PM EDT, I’ll begin the live blog by adding to this post.  At that point, I’ll start composing a new EPIC VERSE masterpiece (or masterpieces?) based on the suggestions you’ve given.  Feel free to keep offering new ideas as we go along – I might incorporate new suggestions into the poem I’m writing, or maybe use them for ANOTHER new poem before the night is out.  We’ll just see how it goes.  In any case…once the live blog has started, keep refreshing this page.  I’ll be adding to the post incrementally as I write, and you’ll get to watch your Warchief’s latest EPIC VERSE composed right before your eyes, in progress.

Kind of like getting to see how the sausage gets made.  If the sausage was made from the ground meat of the SUPER AWESOME UBER-BEAST RAISED IN THE PARADISE FIELDS OF GENIUS AND FED A STEADY DIET OF SOLIDIFIED PERFECTION AND BADASSERY.

*  *  *  *  *

Okay, kids, the show’s about to begin.  I’m going to take a moment and take a look at what we’ve got for suggestions so far, and maybe give the latecomers a minute or two to get their initial suggestions in before I get rolling.  Keep the ideas coming as we go, and I may still work them in as I’m able…

Remember, keep refreshing this page to watch the live blog unfold in progress.

*  *  *  *  *

The Dontrag and the Utvoch came
To celebrate the season,
And brought such pain to any brain
Imbued with any reason.

The Dontrag and the Utvoch asked
The Warchief for permission
To undertake — for sure, half-baked –
A Noblegarden mission.

The Dontrag and the Utvoch told
The Warchief of their plan:
To gather eggs from hopping legs
That bounced around the land.

The Warchief, for his part, approved,
And told them to proceed.
(He thought, of course, the only source
For this could be felweed.)

The Dontrag and the Utvoch ran
Across the Four-Winds Valley,
And high and low sought eggs to go
Into their final tally.

Then near a burrow, D&U
Saw wrigglin’ and squirmin’,
When to the ground, with mighty bound
Leapt out a giant virmen.

The Dontrag cried, “Move fast, Utvoch!
Don’t let it run off!  Grab it!”
For sure, he thought, they had just caught
The Noblegarden Rabbit.

The Dontrag and the Utvoch pounced
And lunged with all their might –
Though in no story was their quarry
Such a daunting height.

They found the Rabbit’s fury one
That not a one surpasses,
So by the end, their hoppy friend
Had badly kicked their asses.

The Warchief, when the pair returned,
Was unsure, sad or funny,
Which best to say, to know that they’d
Been beat on by a bunny.

The Dontrag and the Utvoch mused,
“At least we didn’t die.”
And down they sat on asses fat
And dined on humble pie.


That was weak.

The FUCK?  Who the hell is this?!

What, you still don’t recognize me, Hellscream?  I thought you were good at spotting me online now.

Wait, don’t tell me this is—  Hang on.


What’s up, boss?

The likelihood of me drop-kicking your green ass back to the Lost Isles, for starters.

That’s it.  Throw another hissy fit and alienate even more of your own people.  That’s a formula for success.

Oh…oh no.  Don’t tell me Varian broke into the blog again.


Have you considered anger management classes, by the way?

What the hell happened to the SECURITY thingywhatsises you were supposedly building into the blog, like, FOREVER ago?

Ugh.  It must be that wireless connection you have down there.  I TOLD you Grizzle didn’t know how to set up a reliable network above the level of aluminum cans and some string.

Goddammit.  Well try to get him out of here, will you?  I’ve got a live blog to do.

You mean this exhibition of fail?  Hah.  I couldn’t pass up the chance to look in a watch you make an even bigger jackass of yourself than usual.

Hey, don’t be jealous just because I actually know how to string a few words together, human.

Actually, you know what?  Go ahead and be jealous of that.  Also of all the fans I have, who’ve turned out to bask in the brilliance (BACK ME UP HERE, PEOPLE).  And, oh yeah, of how much smarter and better-looking and all-around more awesome I am.

Hellscream, I haven’t done any writing since I was a kid—

I notice you’re not counting your own blog there.

—but even I could do better than these dimwitted nursery rhymes you’re spewing out.

You know what, asshole?  YOU’RE ON.  Let’s see what you’ve got.


*  *  *  *  *






*  *  *  *  *

Come on, bring it, Hellscream – hope you’re ready to lose.
I’m pretty sure a basic campfire could rhyme better than you.
I’m the king!  The boss!  I was born to rule!
Thrall took his Doomhammer and left the orcs with a tool.
While I was ruling orc arenas with my wolf-god-modding
You were a whiny emo bitch busy whining and sobbing.
I’ll crush you, Garrosh, and add it to our duel triple feature
’Cause I’m the High King – you’re just a substitute teacher.

I’ve got no time for your Alliance propaganda,
Gonna beat you down so hard you’re gonna think I’m a panda.
You’re facing Garrosh, Lo’gosh – I was put here to pwn ya.
My dad killed Mannoroth; yours got ganked by Garona.
So the Warchief will pour grief and settle some scores:
I’m taking the lok’tar, all the ogar is yours.
No “either/or” in the fate that you deserved:
Crushed beneath the Horde – AND the one getting served.

Sure, hide in daddy’s shadow – I knew you’d bring up Grom,
I don’t remember that he ever had to use a mana bomb.
You’re on your own now, worried yet?  ’Cause your lackeys you’re lackin’ –
You’re not getting bailed out now by your magnataur and kraken.
I’m coming with a gag order, I’ve had more than enough,
You’re so much talk, even your howling axe won’t ever shut up.
You’ve got a skull that’s all tiny, and your jaw’s extra large –
Between your mouth and your brain, I guess that shows who’s in charge.

You’re one to talk jaws, Chin-Boy, yours could carve out a mogu,
I’d call you Scarface but you’ve got no friends to say hello to.
Your scars and fail and ponytail – you’re like Lor’themar Lite.
I’ll bake your pride in lemon squares: here, swallow both in one bite.
You’re defensive, apprehensive; I’m offensive, gone berzerker –
I bet Tiffin cut you off, that’s why you had to screw your workers.
My rhymes are terse and yours are worse, so curse and next time go rehearse,
Now FUCK YOU, VARIAN – that’s




<drops mic and walks away like a boss>

*  *  *  *  *






[Thanks for coming, everyone.  More weirdness soon...]

The Wizard of Zhan, Act 3

Posted in Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 1, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

The curtain rises on the exterior of Karazhan.  Garrosh et al approach the front gate.

GARROSH:  Okay, so this is the place…

FARANELL:  Weren’t we just here not too long ago?

Garrosh knocks on the door.  A window on the door slides open, and Berhold the doorman sticks his head out.

BERTHOLD:  Who goes there?  What business do you have at the master’s Dark Tower?

GARROSH:  We’ve come to see the Wizard.

DONTRAG:  The guardian Wizard of Zhan!

UTVOCH:  We hear he’s sage—

Garrosh smacks Utvoch.

GARROSH:  Now don’t you get started with that shit again!

BERTHOLD:  The Wizard?  You can’t see the Wizard!  No one sees the Wizard!

GARONA:  Here’s where I grease the wheels…  You remember me, don’t you, Berthold?

BERTHOLD:  <leans out a bit more, squinting>  Hmm, well…oh…oh goodness…lady Garona?  Is it really you?

GARONA:  It’s good to see you again, Berthold.  Could you please go in and tell the Wizard it’s me?

BERTHOLD:  Well, um, of course, m’lady.  I’ll just be a moment.

Berthold disappears inside and the window closes.

GARONA:  <grinning smugly>  See?  Now we just wait a minute or two, and then they’ll roll out the welcome mat.

GARROSH:  How do you know this guy, anyway?

GARONA:  I guess you could say we had sort of a thing back in the day.

GARROSH:  Suddenly this Wizard’s judgment is seeming a little suspect.

GARONA:  What’s that supposed to mean?

Just in front of the door, a heavy portcullis suddenly comes crashing down.

FARANELL:  Um, unless welcome mats have been radically redesigned lately…

GARONA:  Hang on.

Garona raps on the door angrily.  The window opens and Berthold looks out again.


GARONA:  Didn’t you tell him it was me?


Berthold slams the window shut.

GARONA:  Well I…I…

GARROSH:  Okay, so I stand corrected on this Wizard guy.

MOKVAR:  Well now we have a minor problem about getting in to see him.

GARROSH:  Anyone else have any bright ideas?

FARANELL:  Garrosh, let me see that Focusing Iris?

GARROSH:  You’re not going to try to blow up the gate and get us all killed or something, are you?

FARANELL:  Not all of us.

MOKVAR:  Reassuring.

FARANELL:  But really, let me see it.  I think I know how to appeal to him.

GARROSH:  <handing the Focusing Iris to Faranell>  You think you can get us in, run with it, man.

Faranell knocks on the door; the window opens, and Berthold looks out.

BERTHOLD:  Are you all still here?

FARANELL:  Yeah, so listen—

BERTHOLD:  Good heavens, what happened to you?  You look like death warmed over!

FARANELL:  Yeah, yeah, I’m undead.  So anyway—

BERTHOLD:  Undead?  That must be a horrible fate.

FARANELL:  Yeah, well, take a good long look at the future, smart guy.  Are you done interrupting me now?  Yeah?  Good.  So, check this out.  I know your boss isn’t in much of a hurry to be reunited with little miss sunshine over here, but I think he’d be very interested in getting a peek at this.

Faranell holds up the Focusing Iris.

You go on back inside and tell him that the bearer of the Focusing Iris is here, and might be persuaded to let him check out the number one item on every magic user’s Winter’s Veil list, okay?

BERTHOLD:  Huh…if you say so, sir…

Berthold disappears inside.

MOKVAR:  You think he’s going to go for it?

FARANELL:  Trust me, I know how to appeal to another mage.

GARROSH:  Let’s hope.

Accompanied by the sound of rattling chains, the portcullis rises back up, and the door swings open.

FARANELL:  And there we go.

GARROSH:  Nice job, Doc.  Now we’re in business.  Let’s go finish this…

The group walks through the gate.

Blackout.  Garrosh and the others enter a large chamber filled with relics, vials, and other magic paraphernalia.  Tapestries and ornate curtains decorate those portions of the walls not covered with tall bookshelves.

GARROSH:  Huh…  Well this looks like the kind of place a wizard would hang out, but where is he?

A booming voice echoes through the room.

VOICE:  You have come to seek an audience with the great and powerful Wizard of Zhan?

GARONA:  Oh boy, here he goes.

GARROSH:  <looking around>  Uh, yeah, we do, if he can bother dragging his butt out here so we can actually see him.

VOICE:  You dare presume to speak to the great Wizard with such familiarity, mortal?  You shall count yourself fortunate that the Wizard does not smite you where you stand!

UTVOCH:  Wait, he’s a priest?  I thought he was a mage.

MOKVAR:  Is he always like this?

GARONA:  Oh you have no idea.  All the time with the talking about himself in the third person.

In the middle of the room, a towering, semi-transparent avatar of Medivh appears.

MEDIVH:  The Wizard of Zhan has been informed that one among you carries the storied Focusing Iris!  It is for this reason alone that you have been permitted into this sanctified chamber!

GARONA:  Oh, and there he is, finally.  And thank you, dear, for that very warm welcome.

MEDIVH:  <looks at Garona>  Oh.  Delightful.

GARONA:  Oh, really?  You want to know what else is delightful?  Being a single mom trying to give her son a good life when the kid’s high-and-mighty richer-than-Aman’thul dad for some reason can’t be bothered to mail off a child support payment!

MEDIVH:  The great and powerful Wizard of Zhan does not have time to trifle with these petty—

GARONA:  Oh, sure, when it’s something I want to talk about…

GARROSH:  So listen, Your Wizardry, we have the Focusing Iris—

MEDIVH:  Indeed, hence you are here in my chamber, and not cast out to the ogres!  I will be most interested to examine the relic, and—

GARROSH:  Yeah, well, here’s the thing, chief – before we let you go poking around with the shiny, we have a few things of our own that we could use a hand with.

MEDIVH:  You dare dictate terms to the great and mighty Wizard!

GARONA:  Oh man, he’s really in form today…

FARANELL:  If you’d rather not be bothered we can just be along our way.

MEDIVH:  <chuckles>  You mortals have daring, I’ll grant you that much.

Medivh looks around the group, eyeing them carefully.

I will hear your requests.

GARONA:  Hold the presses, he just called himself “I.”

MEDIVHAnd you would do well to still her tongue.

GARROSH:  Been working on that for months, chief.  No luck so far.

MEDIVH:  At any rate – present your entreaties, but remember the Wizard makes no promises.

GARROSH:  We each have something we’re after, Wiz.  In my case, I’m trying to find a way to summon Prince Malchezaar down from the Netherspace, so I can put him in the ground before the Burning Legion can pull him out of mothballs to stir up trouble for my people.

MEDIVH:  Ah, yes, the irksome demon who’s tucked himself away in the upper levels.  You intrigue me, mortal; I must say it would be no small pleasure to have that particular infestation removed from this place…

GARROSH:  Okay, so far so good.  Meanwhile…well…the rest of the requests are a little more personalized.

DONTRAG:  Shall we present our case to the great and metallurgical Wizard, sir, and—

GARROSH:  <smacking Dontrag>  For spirits’ sake, no.

MOKVAR:  Dontrag and Utvoch here would like some brains.

UTVOCH:  Indeed, sir!

DONTRAG:  <rubbing his head>  So as not to have our current ones beaten out quite so often, sir.

GARROSH:  And for real, anything you could do on that count, I mean, I can’t possibly overstate how much of a quality of life improvement that could be for everyone involved.

MOKVAR:  As for the rest of us… A heart for me.

GARROSH:  Because apparently he’s still moping over his ex-wife or something.

GARONA:  Could you be any more insensitive?

FARANELL:  And some guts for me.

UTVOCH:  I still don’t really think you need—

MEDIVHEnough of your insipid prattling, insects!

GARROSH:  Yelling doesn’t do much good with this crowd, Wiz.  Don’t think I haven’t tried.

MEDIVH:  The great and powerful Wizard of Zhan has heard your requests, and in light of the possibility of studying the Focusing Iris, has deemed them acceptable.

GARROSH:  Awesome, Wiz.

FARANELL:  See, I told you the Iris was our ticket in.

MOKVAR:  So is there a spell or an incantation you have to do on us, or…?

MEDIVHSilence, mortals!  I have not yet finished!  I will grant your requests, but first I require you to perform a task on my behalf!

MOKVAR:  Uh oh.

DONTRAG:  I knew there was going to be a catch…

MOKVAR:  We’re going to have to kill something, aren’t we?

GARROSH:  So hang on, when you say we have to do a task for you, is this a for real task, or one of those busywork kind of tasks, because you’re talking to an old pro at doling out those…

FARANELL:  Personally I think the whole getting-to-work-on-the-Iris thing should be enough of a trade-off on our part, but…

MEDIVHBleat at me no longer, fools!

MOKVAR:  …Ouch.

FARANELL:  That was kind of a good one, actually.

MEDIVH:  Before the mighty and magnanimous Wizard grants your request, he demands that you return to him another magic relic of great power: you are to slay the Wicked Witch of the West, and recover from her the Doomstone.

GARROSH:  Hang on, the Wicked Witch of the West?  That’s Magatha, isn’t it?

GARONA:  Yeah.

GARROSH:  So we get what we came for, AND I get to kill Magatha?

FARANELL:  Didn’t you already kill her in the other timeline?

GARROSH:  Trust me, dude, it never gets old.

MEDIVH:  You shall venture to the odious lair of the Wicked Witch, where you shall slay her and return with the powerful Doomstone.  You must not shy away from this task, for if you fail to carry out this duty—

GARROSH:  Dude, it’s cool, done and done.

MEDIVH:  Excellent!  Be warned, however, the lair of the Wicked Witch of the West shall not be breached easily.  It lies in the Mountains of Twilight, in the dread Bastion of the Dying Day.  The journey shall be long and arduous, and you will find many trials between here and—

FARANELL:  <holding up the Focusing Iris and channeling a spell>  Yeah, stoke that noise.  Portal to BoT coming up!

Faranell completes the spell and teleports the group away, other than Garona.

MEDIVH:  <sighs>  Mortals.

Blackout.  In an inner chamber of the Bastion of Twilight, Magatha peers into an Eye of Twilight.  Beside her hunches Zhi-Zhi, dressed in armor and sporting bat-like wings on his back; around the room similar winged monkey creatures scurry.

MAGATHA:  The visions have grown cloudy…they may have reached Karazhan, but no matter – soon enough we’ll find them, and the Focusing Iris will be—

In a flash of light, Garrosh et all appear in the middle of the room.  The group appears briefly disoriented as they look around.

FARANELL:  Okay, here we are!

MOKVAR:  <looking around>  Are…are those flying monkeys?

MAGATHA:  Well then!  All the better!  No need to go out hunting for them – the fools have delivered themselves right into my very lair!

ZHI-ZHI:  Now!  Now we get them, your Witchy-wooken-ness ma’am!  Hozen do good and get the dookin’—

MAGATHA:  <smacking Zhi-Zhi>  Shut up, you insipid preliterate orang utan!  Get them!

ZHI-ZHIAhhh!  Stop hitting Zhi-Zhi!

DONTRAG:  I know the feeling, ape guy…

ZHI-ZHI:  Get them!  Get them!

More monkeys swarm into the room and start running to surround Garrosh’s group, which backs up toward stage right.  Magatha runs back and forth in the background, overlooking the scene.  Arikara flies in and swoops back and forth above them.

GARROSH:  That’s…a whole lot of monkeys.

FARANELL:  Plus that wind serpent…

Mortimer leaps into the air and barrels into Arikara with a snarl, knocking them both offstage to the left.

GARROSH:  Yeah, I’m not so worried about the wind serpent.

The monkeys descend in bunches, attacking the group.

The chimp brigade, on the other hand…

The Horde group starts to fight off the monkeys; they cut the monkeys down easily enough, but by sheer force of numbers, Magatha’s attackers push Garrosh et al further back.

Magatha descends and begins shooting chain lightning.

MAGATHA:  Hahaha!  You fools made my work that much easier!  Now the Focusing Iris will be mine, and—

Faranell runs up to Magatha and splashes her from a bucket.

AAAHH!!  I’m melting!  I’m melting!  AAAAHHH!!!

Screaming all the way, Magatha melts into a sizzling brown puddle on the floor.

GARROSH:  Um, hang on a second.  She melted?  Fucking WATER killed her?

FARANELL:  No.  That wasn’t water.

MOKVAR:  What was it, then?

FARANELL:  Acidic plague.

GARROSH:  You walk around with a bucket of acidic plague?

FARANELL:  Do you not know what I do for a living?

ZHI-ZHI:  The Wicked Witch – she’s dead!  You killed her!

MOKVAR:  Uh oh.  Bracing for pissed-off monkeys.

ZHI-ZHI:  She’s dead!  She’s dead!  Hozen are free!  Free of the Witch!

Zhi-Zhi starts jumping up and down jubilantly, with the other monkeys following his lead in short order.  Mortimer wanders in and sits, munching on a wind serpent wing.

DONTRAG:  I guess this is good?

MOKVAR:  As long as they don’t start fliging poop around, I think we’re okay.

ZHI-ZHI:  No more beatings from Wicked Witch!  We friends now!  Friends of the hozen!

Faranell prods Magatha’s remains, rummaging through the remains of her cloak.

MOKVAR:  Be careful there, Edwin – are you sure you should be poking around in that stuff?

FARANELL:  <continues rummaging>  Oh, yes, you’re right, I’d better be careful not to touch any of the plague, or else my flesh might decompose and I might die and OH WAIT.

Faranell pulls a polished gray stone from Magatha’s cloak and tosses it to Garrosh.

Here we go.  Mission accomplished.

ZHI-ZHI:  Yes!  You take Doomstone – reward for killing Wicked Witch!  And hozen will follow you now!

GARROSH:  Don’t I know you from somewhere?

ZHI-ZHI:  <scratching his head>  Ever been to Tian Monastery?

GARROSH:  Never heard of it.

MOKVAR:  Well, other than that one time.

ZHI-ZHI:  <still scratching his head>  Dunno then…

GARROSH:  <shrugs>  Whatever.

FARANELL:  Portal back to the Wizard?

GARROSH:  Yeah, let’s get a move on.

ZHI-ZHI:  Hozen come too!  Follow new leader!  Leader who free hozen!

GARROSH:  Uh, yeah, dude, listen, I’ve already got my quota filled on preliterate knuckle-dragging lackeys, okay?

DONTRAG:  Sorry, sir.

FARANELL:  Okay, gentlemen, here we go…

Faranell casts a portal spell and teleports the group away.  Zhi-Zhi remains with the other winged monkeys; he looks around dejectedly, then sneers at the spot where Garrosh had been standing.

ZHI-ZHIStill not the one!

Blackout.  In the Wizard of Zhan’s chamber, Garrosh et al port in, joining Medivh, Garona, and Liadrin.

MEDIVH:  Ah, you’ve returned!  The mighty but restless Wizard of Zhan is both pleased and not inconsiderably relieved at your timely return!

MOKVAR:  You were worried about us?

MEDIVH:  Not especially.  But since your departure, your…colleague has scarcely shut up.

GARONA:  Well sue me for thinking you might want to catch up a little.  It’s not like we have a kid together or anything.

GARROSH:  <looking to Liadrin>  And hang on, what are YOU doing here?

LIADRIN:  You think I would miss this floor show?

GARROSH:  Well you know, if you were going to come here anyway, you could have maybe stayed with us and used some of your magic to help move things along.

LIADRIN:  And then what would you have learned?

GARROSH:  I didn’t learn a damn thing as it is, other than “Watch where you step around monkeys” and “Don’t get too close if you see a walking corpse with a bucket”!

FARANELL:  You know I’m standing right here.

LIADRIN:  Two valuable life lessons.

GARROSH:  …I seriously need some new friends.

MEDIVHAt any rate.

GARROSH:  Yeah, PLEASE get us back to business.

MEDIVH:  You have brought the Doomstone, as I instructed?

GARROSH:  <holds up the Doomstone>  Got it right here.

MEDIVH:  Excellent.  Now you shall hand over the relic, and—

GARROSH:  Not so fast, translucent boy.  First you give us what we came here for, THEN we’ll give you the doohicky.

MEDIVH:  You dare try to dictate terms to the great and powerful Wizard of Zhan, mortal?  I should liquidate you for your presumption alone!

Mortimer, who has been sniffing around the various tapestries that cover parts of the walls, tugs back one curtain to reveal a control panel covered with elaborate levers, buttons, and monitors, manned by a Forsaken male dressed in warrior’s plate.

GARROSH:  Uh, who’s that?

The Forsaken man speaks into a microphone on the control panel, and his words are echoed by Medivh.

AVERRY and MEDIVH:  Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!

FARANELL:  Well that’s…odd.

GARROSH:  The hell?

GARONA:  I don’t even want to think about the implications of this for me.

AVERRY and MEDIVH:  Silence, you foolish mortals!  Pay him no mind!

GARROSH:  Dude, we can see you’re the one doing the talking.

UTVOCH:  I’m confused.

FARANELL:  Imagine our astonishment.

Averry looks back at the others and hurriedly pulls the curtain closed again.

GARROSH:  Now then, insects, you will disregard the man behind the— Oh.  Oops.  Wrong button.

MEDIVH:  That’s better.  Now then, insects, you will disregard the man behind the curtain, and put him out of mind!

ALL:  What man behind the curtain whom we certainly don’t remember seeing?

MEDIVH:  Much better.

GARROSH:  Look, can we just get what we came here for so we can get this whole freak show over with?

LIADRIN:  It probably would be just as easy to do it this way, Guardian.

MEDIVH:  <sighs>  Very well.  Have your companions step forward…

Mokvar, Faranell, Dontrag, and Utvoch step closer to Medivh.  Medivh looks to Faranell.

First you, my fellow – albeit preposterously less mighty – mage.

FARANELL:  Can’t anyone be one of the best at their class without being an elitist jerk about it?

MEDIVH:  You came, as I recall, seeking guts – and yet I daresay you suffer from disorganized thinking.  To flee from danger is, in many cases, not cowardice, but wisdom.  Indeed, in my day I have known many a soul called a hero, who carried out great deeds of valiance, and they had no more courage than—

FARANELL:  No, no, you’re taking this too metaphorically.

MEDIVH:  Pardon?

FARANELL:  I don’t need guts because I think I’m a coward.  Look at me.  Half my internal organs are missing.  I have no guts, literally.

MEDIVH:  Huh.  You know, you’re shedding new light on some complaints I’ve been getting from Moroes…

FARANELL:  How about I put you down for an “I’ll get back to you” and keep the line moving.

Medivh shrugs and turns to Mokvar.

MEDIVH:  As for you, my good orc… Your trouble is another misperception of your situation – not the lack of heart, but a damaged one.  To that end, I give you this remedy, for your ears and your ears alone:

Medivh leans closer to Mokvar.

<aside>  She is still out there, alive, and she is looking for you.

Mokvar makes a surprised expression, then nods and steps away.  Medivh turns to Dontrag and Utvoch.

Now then…you two.

DONTRAG:  Yes, sir, your high and mighty Wizardariousness, sir.

UTVOCH:  Very much honored to bask in your presence and await your magnaminious blessings, sir.

MEDIVH:  Hmm…  Yeah.  Right.  Sorry.  You can’t fix stupid.


UTVOCH:  Um…okay…

GARROSH:  <sighs>  Gotta say, we’re not getting a whole lot of return on our investment so far.

MEDIVH:  Now for your request, other-orc.  You say you seek the demon Malchezaar, and the means to draw him out of his hiding place…

GARROSH:  Right.  Please don’t tell me this is another one of those “Oops, I can’t really do that one” things for you.

MEDIVH:  The great and powerful Wizard of Zhan can do anything, mortal!

FARANELL:  Other than listen to himself for like the last three minutes.

MEDIVH:  But, as it happens, in this case the Wizard does not need to!

GARROSH:  <sighs>  Don’t tell me you’re going to get all cryptic on me now.

LIADRIN:  What I think the Wizard means, Garrosh, is that you have the means now to do it yourself.

GARROSH:  The what now?

Liadrin points to the Doomstone in Garrosh’s hands.

Huh… This thing can do it?  How?

LIADRIN:  You need only charge it with the Focusing Iris, and you’ll see.

GARROSH:  Huh.  Well, you heard her, Edwin.  Let’s see what this thing does.

Faranell takes out the Focusing Iris and starts to channel arcane power through it and into the Doomstone.  The Doomstone starts to glow, then expand, growing into a heavy gray slab of rock with a single runic symbol etched into it.

LIADRIN:  Now all you need to is touch your hand to it and say “Come click on the stone.”

Garrosh gives a quizzical look, then shrugs and puts his hand on the stone.

GARROSH:  Come click on the stone.

LIADRIN:  That’s it…go on…

GARROSH:  Come click on the stone… Come click on the stone… Come click on the stone…

As he repeats the phrase, Faranall and Mokvar approach and touch the stone as well.  The stage lights dim as Medivh’s chamber fades away, and the only things left visible are Garrosh and the stone.  A bright light flashes around the stone, and Prince Malchezaar appears.

MALCHEZAAR:  <looks around bewildered>  What?  How—?

GARROSH:  Well hey, now we’re in business.

MALCHEZAARYou!  You dare?

GARROSH:  Yeah, so, we haven’t really properly met or anything, princy, so let me fill you in – I dare.  Like, professionally.

MALCHEZAAR:  Madness has brought you here, orc!  Now I shall be your undoing!

GARROSH:  Seriously, do you bad guys all take a class on these stock threats?  Because—

Garrosh reaches to his back to draw Gorehowl, only to find it’s disappeared from its usual place.

Wha— Oh for fuck’s sake, seriously?  Again, now?

Laughing menacingly, Malchezaar draws Gorehowl and brandishes it.

MALCHEZAAR:  Ha!  Have you misplaced this, fool?  I remember fondly the day I recovered it from Demon’s Fall!

GARROSH:  Ugh, fine, we’ll do this the street-brawl way…

Garrosh rushes at Malchezaar and grapples with him, gripping Gorehowl by its haft when Malchezaar tries to swing it at him.

MALCHEZAAR:  Flee now while you can, orc!  You do not face Malchezaar alone—

GARROSH:  Yeah, yeah, we all know the spiel, squid-face – but you know something?  You’re right.  I DON’T face Malchezaar alone…

The stage lights come back on, illuminating the normal, minimally dressed stage of the Opera House – with Faranell, Liadrin, Mokvar, Garona, Dontrag, and Utvoch in a semicircle behind Garrosh and Malchezaar.

Say hello to the legion at my command!  SHOW TIME FOR REAL, kids!

MOKVAR:  Liking our odds a lot better this time

While Faranell and Mokvar stand back, casting fireballs and lightning bursts respectively, Liadrin, Garona, Dontrag, and Utvoch run in to engage Malchezaar at melee range.  Malchezaar staggers back and forth under the onslaught of the group, still grappling with Garrosh over their hold on Gorehowl, until Garrosh twists it out of Malchezaar’s grip, leaps up, and cleaves through the demon’s neck, severing his head.  Malchezaar’s body slumps to the floor, and the spectral audience bursts into applause.

GARROSH:  Wham, bam, the bitch is dead.  Bitch.

As the audience continues their applause, Barnes walks to center stage.

BARNES:  A splendid finale for a most varied and entertaining evening of theater!  Ladies and gentlemen, I give you tonight’s troupe of performers, here for the first and only time for your enjoyment!

The applause rises; Barnes walks back offstage.

MOKVAR:  Well that takes care of that.

DONTRAG:  We’re done here now, right?

LIADRIN:  That should do it, yes…

FARANELL:  <standing over Malchezaar’s body somberly>  At least now he can stop coming back to die over and over…

MOKVAR:  Oh, yeah…I guess you were in your own kind of time loop, weren’t you, Edwin…

LIADRIN:  But…Edwin, it would have been a stable loop with you, wouldn’t it?  Just one set of events repeating infinitely?

FARANELL:  That’s what I’d figured it was going to be…

GARROSH:  Wait, what?  What do you mean, a stable loop?

FARANELL:  When I stayed in old Southshore, and replaced myself.  I’d figured I would live through my life like I remembered it, then get to the point where we traveled to the past, and go back with you again, then the events would be complete.  And then it would be done, and the cycle would just keep spinning itself.

LIADRIN:  That isn’t what happened for you?

FARANELL:  <shaking head slowly>  It didn’t just repeat.  I would live through to our mission to the past, and replace myself again, and pick up my life in the past…and yeah, the loop would keep repeating, but every cycle through, I had to live it through again, and repeat my part of it again, and…


LIADRIN:  Oh…oh no…

FARANELL:  …and die again.  And be raised again.

MOKVAR:  Holy crap…

UTVOCH:  Wait, I’m confused, what’s he—

GARROSH:  Just this once, will you please SHUT THE FUCK UP?

FARANELL:  And so yeah, every time around, I had to live out that repetition fresh.  I can still remember every loop, individually…

LIADRIN:  Edwin… I’m not sure if I even really want to know, but…how many times did you…go around?

FARANELL:  By the time you…I…reset the timelines and broke me out…?  2,734.

LIADRIN:  By the Light…  You…relived your own death…?

Faranell nods, still staring at Malchezaar.

MOKVAR:  Edwin, listen—

FARANELL:  Doesn’t really matter at this point.  <turns back to the others>  Come on.  We’re done here.  Portal to Orgrimmar coming up.

Faranell summons a portal, and one by one the rest of the group disappears through it.

There’s no place like home…

Faranell ports out.  The curtain closes.

Darkmoon day trip

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 6, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

So while we’re waiting on updates from Hillsbrad, I’m catching a little much-needed R&R time.  Gurtash from the orphanage was taking care of Mortimer while I dealt with that whole to-do at the Caverns of Time, so after I got back, I got the idea that it might be nice to do something for Gurtash for all the time he’s spent wyvern-sitting.  So, I checked him out of the orphanage for a little while, rounded up Mortimer, and brought him over to Mulgore.  What better reward for the kid than a day at the Darkmoon Faire?

So we spent a while wandering around the faire, loading up on hot dogs and cotton candy and one of those giant orange slurpy drink thingies.  I tried playing this Whack-a-Gnoll game they had – figured I could try to win Gurtash a toy or something – but Mola the carnie got all upset and said I had to leave the game area.  And personally I don’t think it’s MY fault that she did not explain clearly enough that I had to use the stupid foam hammer they gave me, instead of Gorehowl.  I just figured they provided the hammer for the people who didn’t think ahead to bring their own weapon.  So yeah, she asked me to leave the area, after I filled out some form for where they can send the bill.  Whatever.  Fucking Hogger.

At least I only destroyed the fake wood-and-straw gnolls, though, rather than the LIVE one they had hanging around.  They’ve got this gnoll named Sayge tucked away in a tent in one corner, giving out fortunes to people after they answer some “what would you do?” type questions.  Gurtash got a fortune that said “Hopes are like wyverns: care for them and they will carry you when you’re too tired to go on.”  Which, hey, good call on the wyvern thing, so you’d think Sayge knew his stuff, but then mine didn’t make a damn bit of sense – “From within it consumes,” like what the fuck?  So I clocked him.

Then I had to sign some more forms.

Anyway, after that we found the petting zoo, and boy did the kid flip out at that point.  I wasn’t so sure about the zoo at first, since the first pen had a bunch of gorlocs, which I had MORE than my fill of up in Northrend, because like I think I’ve mentioned, THOSE things are like what would happen if a murloc fucked a kangaroo.  But then I heard them prattling on about wondering when the tour would start, and realized somebody had tricked the stupid bouncy fuckers into thinking they were VISITING the zoo and not IN it, and that’s actually hella funny awesome, so okay.

Anyway, they had a bunch of pretty jumbo-sized animals, like this gorilla Gargantua, and a basilisk named Krystal which for some reason had a carnie-shaped crystal in his pen with…oh WAIT a minute!  HAH!  Um, anyway.  We looked around at some more of the animals, plus this big green slime thing that kept trying to spit at me through the bars of its cage.  Between the spitting slime and the animal poop, I tell you, you don’t know where to step half the time in that place.

Across from the slime, they had another pen with a huge wooly rhino named Crush.  We were looking at him, when all of a sudden I felt something clang off the back of my head – the shock of it knocked me forward, and made me fling my orange slurpy drink into the pen and all over the rhino.  Which…yeah, another bill for animal shampoo if they notice that, too.  When I looked to see what it was, though, it turned out I’d been hit by a Happy Fun Rock that some kids at the faire were tossing around – and by the time I looked, the kids had gotten their rock back, and Gurtash was making fast friends with them, and next thing you know he was racing off to run around the faire grounds with the bunch of them.  And so I’m stuck sitting there between the rhino and the ooze yelling at him to come finish the tour of the petting zoo, but does he listen?  No, of course not.  Fine, be that way.  Follow me, don’t follow me, whatever.  I’ve got my slime, I’ve got my orange Crush.

So while Gurtash was running around with the other kids, I looked around the faire a little myself – and found the most awesome thing ever.  The Darkmoon Deathmatch!  Get this.  They have this event where they put a prize in this chest in the middle of a big cage, right?  And at a certain time every day, the chest unlocks so that the prize can be picked up by anyone in the cage, only the inside of the cage is a free-for-all combat zone – so in order to claim the prize, you have to fight off anyone else who happens to be in there!

Wait, did I say you HAVE to?  Make that, you GET to.

I just happened to get there like ten minutes before the chest was going to unlock, and hey, look at all the humans and gnomes and draenei running around inside the cage.  LOK’TAR, bitches, the DELI COUNTER OF PAIN IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS AND GIVING OUT NUMBERS.  Hell yeah!

So, fast forward ten minutes for the fighting and two minutes for wading in and out through the heaps of mutilated bodies, and I’ve got my prize voucher.

The good: A quick trip to the prize-claim tent, and I had a great, big, hard-won goodie to hand off to Gurtash when he got back from running around with his new friends.

The bad: When he DID get back, turns out that two of his friends were a human kid named Michael and a draenei kid (LITERALLY) named Duquan…whose parents I, um, may or may not have just brutally slaughtered in the Deathmatch cage.

The worse: The goodie in question happened to be a giant pink teddy bear.  Which I had to carry around the faire grounds until Gurtash turned up again.  Which he didn’t do for like an hour and a half.

So, yeah.

When a good orc goes to war

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 13, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream


Here’s an ugly fact: If you’ve spent enough time in battle – past the point where you get the rookie jitters, straight through to that point where the sight of blood doesn’t phase you anymore – you start to be able to hear the difference between types of blows.  The flesh wounds, the cleaving slices, the glancing cuts, the deep hacks that hit bone…eventually you know just from the sound when a blow’s been landed that no garden variety mortal is going to walk away from.

Eventually you know that sound.  You never mistake it.

I was hearing that sound a lot when my mother and I first arrived in Demon Fall Canyon.  Like always, the place was crawling with lesser demons…droves of these piddly weak-ass infernals and succubi and felguards.  When I came here once before, I mostly made my way around them – the pansy-ass fuckers were at least bright enough not to want anything to do with me – but this time I didn’t have much interest in sneaking around.  So, we left a nice wide trail of chopped-up demons all the way to Grom’s monument.

I kept my distance and let Lakkara go up to the monument by herself.  She knelt down next to it and read Thrall’s plaque, then cried for a while.  When she finally composed herself again, she started talking quietly.  I didn’t really try to listen in, only picked up little bits and pieces.  Something about doing what she had to do to keep their son safe and untainted…that she was happy he found his way back, like she’d always hoped he would.  That she wished she could have been there beside him at the end.

I didn’t go near the monument.  I didn’t want to disturb her.

I was mostly off in my own thoughts and didn’t notice the rustling in the surrounding bushes until it was too late.  Something hit me from behind – I couldn’t see right away – and then a voice from one of the nearby cliffs called out to me by name, and yelled something about me being a shortsighted fool, and I would lead the Horde to ruin because I wasn’t willing to make the tough choices.  Monologuing away, true to bad guy form, which of course just gave me time to get my wits about me and see who it was.

Guess who.  “Former General” Grebo, up and kicking again.  I swear, doesn’t anybody stay dead anymore?  Other than the ones who deserve better?

Meanwhile, I’d also been able to size up who had jumped me.  There were four humans, all dressed in black, who’d gotten in a few hits to disorient me before I knew what was happening.  Now, though, I’d gotten my second wind and had Gorehowl out.  And then there were three humans.  And then there were two.

While I was making short work of Grebo’s human lackeys, Grebo himself leapt down from the cliff behind me.  I just caught him landing out of the corner of my eye as I was spinning to cut down another one of the humans – they really DO drop easily – but I managed to put a little TOO much energy into my swing, spun more than I’d meant to on the follow-through, and turned my back to Grebo as a result.  Rookie mistake.  I know better than that.  And while I regained my footing, I could hear the footsteps running up behind me.

And then another set of footsteps.  And a voice yelling “No!”

And then that sound.

Eventually…you know that sound.  You never mistake it.

And then my mother’s voice crying out.  And then nothing.

Lakkara collapsed to the ground.  I turned and lunged at Grebo, but that final lackey of his managed to lock me up for a second.  (Throwdown is considerably less fun when you’re on the other end of it.)  Grebo must have realized that all of a sudden this wasn’t the day to try his luck, and started to take off.  The couple of seconds I took separating the last human from his arms gave Grebo enough time to get a decent head start on me, and by the time I could close the gap at all, he was able to duck around a corner and disappear.  Into a cave, or the shadows, or who knows where.  Somehow he lost me and I wasn’t going to start wasting time chasing shadows.

I tried to hurry back to the monument as fast as I could, even though I knew deep down that time really wasn’t going to be an issue.  When I got back, the armless human was laying in his heap, along with two of the others, but one of his friends was gone – maybe I was a little quick to assume I’d one-shot them all?  There was blood on the ground where he fell, and more trailing along to a second bloody puddle where Lakkara had fallen.  Only…no Lakkara.

I ran around Demon Fall Canyon like a lunatic, looking for bodies, blood, scraps of cloth.  Tracks, as if I was a fucking hunter and would know how to follow them in the first place.  Anything.  All I could find was more of those damned weakling demons, and the ones that had the bad luck to be within arm’s reach found themselves swapped out for a pile of demon parts real quick.  But no sign of my mother.  No human.  Nothing.

I’m back in Orgrimmar now.  My head hasn’t stopped spinning.  There isn’t one single part of this that makes sense, but I’m going to find out what’s going on, and how this happened.  And someone’s going to pay.



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


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