Archive for karazhan

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 30, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream

mailbag29

Okay, people, it’s been WAY too long since I’ve dipped into the ol’ mailbag, and I have a HUGE backlog of letters, so let’s get right to it, shall we?

 

Hail Warchief!

The Feast of Winter Veil is approaching, and it made me think. What do you hope to get from Greatfather Winter this year? Do you have any special family traditions? I look forward to seeing Orgrimmar all decorated for the festivities.
Happy Holidays!

–Lorewalker Shara

PS you may want to avoid using tinsel to decorate around Mortimer, unless you like festive poop! Might be a good idea to keep Taktani away from it too, thinking about it.

Hey, Shara, thanks for writing.  Hopefully Orgrimmar is looking all Winter Veily these days.  I’ll be back for a check-in soon, but I’m probably only going to make it back to town JUST in time to catch the end of the festivities.  As for my wish list… I remember addressing this point a couple years ago, and most of the stuff on that list still stands – especially Varian and Magatha’s heads on pikes – but there are a few more things I can think of that I might add to the list for this year.

  • An actual explanation that makes sense for what the hell was going on with Mokvar while I was away.
  • A wireless network here in Pandaria that’s actually reliable, so I can log onto Earth Online without it being a fucking comedy show.
  • An on-site goblin tech guy who can maintain that network without the whole thing going kablooey and spitting out two burnt pieces of toast every time there’s a breeze, because let me tell you, Grizzle Gearslip ain’t happening.

Come to think of it, so far all of these could pretty much be covered if I could get a bunch more Spazzles.  Because really, as much as I clown on the guy, he actually knows what he’s doing and gets shit done, and unlike half these other jokers, I don’t have to worry about him running around behind my back doing spirits-know-what.  So, other additions to the list:

  • A scribe that doesn’t have traitorous tendencies, a busted-up writing hand, or the disposition of a six-year-old on a sugar high from eating all the Hallow’s End candy EVER.
  • The secret to controlling the sha.
  • A First War commemorative chess set.  This is the normal-sized, less creepy version of the chess set Medivh had over in Karazhan.  It’s been rumored to be in the works for years, and I’ve finally started to see them showing up on ebAH.  Yes, I play chess.  Don’t act all surprised, for fuck’s sake.
  • Varian’s head on a pike.  Did I mention this one?

As far as having family traditions for Winter Veil…not really.  I mean, keep in mind, Winter Veil is a pretty recent thing for us Mag’har.  We didn’t have Winter Veil back in Nagrand, so we only started picking it up at all after Thrall came out to Garadar a few years ago.  Greatmother Geyah really has taken a liking to it, but that’s about it.  Plus, not to get maudlin and shit, but it’s kind of hard to have family traditions when you don’t really have a family.  I mean, I never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was young.  I’m an only child.  As far as I know.  Assuming Grom wasn’t a bigger pimp than anybody’s given him credit for.  Anyhow, point being, Greatmother is pretty much the only family I’ve got nowadays, and even SHE’s not a blood relation – she’s just the one that raised me after Lakkara died.  So, yeah.  AREN’T YOU HAPPY YOU BROUGHT THAT UP?  BET YOU FEEL PROUD.

 

Greetings Warchief!

I am in desperate need of your assistance. I approached Regent Lord Lor’themar with my issue but he said that it was beyond his scope and directed me to contact you.

I recently inherited a house and it is in terrible need of redecoration. You have done a great deal of renovation recently and I was wondering if you could give me some tips to make my house look amazing. Attached is a picture of the house.

WoWScrnShot_112313_213143

Thanks,

–Tegwin

Grats on the new house, Tegwin.  Not so grats on the place looking like such a shithole.  Because, yeah, that place needs some work.  I mean, seriously…the wispy, billowy day-glow curtains?  A bearskin rug with the bear head still attached?  Strewn out there like you’re getting ready to do a photo shoot you already know you’re going to regret in five years?  And… Is…is that a hookah?  Just sitting there, right out in the open, in the living room?  What are you, one semester removed from college and stuck with a slacker troll roommate who keeps swearing he’ll have his half of the rent this month, and this time he means it, mon, only you know perfectly well that’s not happening because felweed’s a hell of a drug?

So, okay, a few things.  You have to lose the pastels, first of all.  I know that probably goes against every last one of your blood elf sensibilities, but trust me on this.  You want strong, commanding colors – the kind that will make people think “Holy fuck, some serious shit goes on in this place” when they walk in.  Lots of reds and grays.  Err on the side of darker.  Go too dark with the red and you get a bloody crimson, which is still pretty badass.  Go too light and you get pink.  See where I’m going with this?

Mount some weapons on the walls.  If you haven’t cleaned them lately and they’ve got some bloodstains, all the better.  It adds to the color scheme I’m talking about, plus it conveys a message of “This person is not to be fucked with.”  Spikes.  You can never have too many spikes.  Or skulls.  Get some skulls in there.  If you can carve up the body of one of your enemies and, say, make their skull into a chair for yourself, awesome.  Or maybe turn their bones into an end table.  A hat rack will do in a pinch.  If you haven’t killed any notable enemies lately, but you’ve got an infamous foe that you really only know by reputation but somebody in your family killed, and you have THEIR remains somewhere handy, that’s just as good, because that fucker was brought down by your bloodline (AGAIN NOTICE THE BLOOD MOTIF) and you totally deserve to share credit for the accomplishment.

This is all for your living room, of course, and I know my tastes can be a little hardcore.  I figured you might want to take it down a notch or two for your bedroom, so I went to Garona to get a woman’s opinion.  Didn’t get very far, though.  I told her I had a question about the bedroom and tried to ask her if she matches her rugs and curtains, or words to that effect, but she just got all pissy for some reason.  So, not much help there.  I seriously don’t know what’s up with her sometimes.

Speaking of which…

 

Dear Warchief,

I’m writing this letter to you in secret and I hope it gets to you and I’m not killed in the process.  *looks around*

It’s about Garona Halforcen.  Sir, she scares the everliving shi—uh—crap out of me.  *looks around again*

I happened upon some history stuff about her and now I’m all confused.  She was there when the first invasion from the Dark Portal, then she had a kid with an old man, and she is half-orc, half-dradne dranin demon *looks up spelling* DRAENAI.  (She looks like an orc.  Smells like one too.  I don’t see it.)

Now I’m all confused and sitting in a dark tunnel with a lot of thinking time had me thinking about her again.

What I want to know…*looks around*

How old is she?  She’s got to be like….ANCIENT.  *hides paper, looks around*

She doesn’t make sense and I don’t want to ask her.  She’s scary.

–Ruekie, Shaman In Training

PS:  There’s a lot of talk lately with the orc kids about the Red Pox, and if there is something scarier than Garona it’s that. I heard you had it once. Did it hurt? Can you get it again? Can we get it? Can an outbreak happen again? Too many questions and we are getting freaked out. Like FREAKED out. Really.

Okay, first of all… Um, Ruekie, you realize we were JUST in those caves all alone and out of earshot of Garona, right?  Not sure why you didn’t just ask your questions THEN, but whatever.  Kids.

First, the Red Pox?  No, seriously, you don’t want to get into the Red Pox, that was just a bad scene all around.  I don’t know why you kids would be talking about it now, but really, just let that shit die.  Nobody needs to be digging up THOSE memories for anybody.

Okay, now that that’s settled, on to your main point.  Yeah, I’ll grant you the scary thing with Garona.  Scariest bitch I know who hasn’t come back from the dead.  Although it’s probably a sad statement about my life that the list of people I know who HAVE come back from dead is a lot longer than you would figure.  Because – I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before – NOBODY STAYS FUCKING DEAD ANYMORE.

Anyway, here’s the deal with Garona.  Yeah, she’s half orc, half draenei.  Back in the day, Gul’dan bred an orc and a draenei to create a personal assassin – enter Garona.  Yeah, she looks mostly orcish, but I guess these racial mixes are kind of a crap shoot as far as which race’s physical traits you get.

Anyhow, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure exactly when Gul’dan actually orchestrated her birth.  I know it was definitely before the Dark Portal opened, and that was about 30 years ago, but before that, there was a window of about 20 years when Gul’dan was up to some Really Bad Shit, so the breeding experiment could have happened anywhere in there.  Let’s shave off the first couple years to give Gul’dan time to come up with this idea and for Garona to be brought to term.  That would mean that Garona would have to be anywhere from, say, 32 (She’s not.  Seriously.  I’m 35.  There’s no damn way she’s younger than me.) to around 48 or so.  Anywhere in between, your guess is as good as mine.

Hang on, though – this gets more complicated when you add the fact that Gul’dan had Garona aged magically so that she could get right to work, no childhood needed.  Swell guy, huh?  Anyway, the age of adulthood among orcs varies a little from clan to clan, usually somewhere from 13 to 15.  (Yeah, I know, kid, can you believe it?  Technically you’re an adult.  Hard to imagine you’re a grown-up, huh?  Well, let me clue you in on a little secret: That thought won’t stop seeming weird for another 20 years.)  So that would mean, however old Garona is according to the calendar, she really has the body of a woman 13-some-odd years older.  So now we’re looking at a physical age putting her somewhere between 45 and, like, 60-something.  Which is kind of a big deal when you consider that 70 is about as old as you could reasonably hope to live as an orc, even if you do a perfect job taking care of yourself.

Oh, but hang on, we’re not done yet.  It’s about to get more complicated.  (Don’t look at me – I didn’t make this shit up.)  Because, see, since Garona has that draenei half, her aging is even more fucked up.  Draenei live for…like…forever.  I mean seriously, I think the average draenei lifespan is something like “infinity minus twelve.”  So you mix THOSE genes in with our good, wholesome “70 if you’re super lucky” orcish genes, and…well… You’ve got a woman who’s technically, like, 40, only with the body of a 53-year-old, only not really because 53 doesn’t mean anywhere near the same thing to the draenei part of her, so…um… Who the fuck knows?

She’s old, okay?  Only she’s kind of not.  Only she is.  Whatever – you go figure it out.  Meanwhile I’m going to go check around the room and make sure there aren’t any whooshing sounds coming from the corners.

 

The following is written in elegant, but slightly shaky, cursive script on pale peach-colored parchment paper

My dear little Roshy,

How are you doing? I have missed you. It’s beautiful here in Nagrand – we’re having the most glorious late-fall weather.  I hope all is well in Orgrimmar.

Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?  Sounds serious too… She has been sending me letters telling me about how deeply in love you both are, and has included many pictures of you with little hearts and flowers drawn on them.  She says you’re getting married in the spring?  Why didn’t you mention it?  You would think you’d keep your own family informed, dear.  We’ll have to have a little chat the next time you visit.  You are coming home for Winter Veil, are you not?

Also, you should take some pictures of the two of you together.  And perhaps find a new photo studio.  These look like they were printed on magazine paper instead of proper photo paper.  I can’t properly frame them for display, especially not with the lipstick kisses smeared all over them.

All my love,

–Greatmother Geyah.

Hold on, hold on, what… how the… it… GODDAMMIT, SOMEBODY IS FALSIFYING RECORDS OF THEIR WARCHIEF, and…and…  Oh fucking hell, now I’m going to have to go out there and explain Photoshop to her.  It was bad enough when I had the bright idea to try to show her the internet.  Nothing in my e-mail for two months but forwarded pictures of wyverns asking for cheeseburgers.  And WHO is this woman who’s…ugh.  You know what?  I don’t even think I want to know.  Even though I can probably think of a couple likely suspects.

Now I’m just imagining somewhere in Orgrimmar there’s a dim, candle-lit room with walls covered by pictures of me, and…no, no, don’t even go any further with that, Garrosh.  That way madless lies.

And now on top of everything, I have to squeeze in a trip to Nagrand before Winter Veil totally runs out on me, or I’m never going to hear the end of it.  Ugh.  Maybe I’ll bring Gurtash, and see if I can maybe distract her a little with the cute kid factor.  Or Ruekie?  I bet she’d like Ruekie.  Plus Rook might want someplace to hide anyway, what with her probably having Garona out for her head as soon as this post goes live.

 

Very good to hear you have escaped the Saurok caves unharmed. The Horde would be in a very dire position if we were to lose our leader.

I do have one question. Have you ever thought of asking a mage if they could manage to conjure lemon squares? I have no complaints, but the same old sticky buns are a bit tiring after some time (not to mention they turn stale and hard as a rock after some time sitting in a bag). Perhaps you should collaborate with my wife? I am sure she would be very good to collaborate with, or maybe another mage closer to your location.

Regards,

–Shen-Wei Pureblossom

Thanks for writing, Shen-Wei.  You know, I HAVE thought of this lemon squares angle before, but here’s the thing.  First off, there was a point around this time last year that I really thought Gija down in the Cleft of Shadow was on to something, but the problem is, lemon squares don’t really lend themselves to conjuring, apparently.  I mean, you can abracadabra up some pastries that are sorta, KINDA in the same ballpark as lemon squares, but you can tell they’re not the real thing.  It’s like the drop-off from real leather to that fake shit that the damn DEHTA hippies try to pass off and think they’re fooling anybody.  And once you’re used to eating the real thing, I mean, come on.  It would be like going from having me as Warchief to, I don’t even know, a fucking TROLL or something.

Second of all, having spent my whole life eating those lemon squares, let me tell you, we don’t need mages recreating Greatmother’s recipe, because IT’S ALREADY MAGICAL.  (See?  See how I’m already working on smoothing things over with her?  For real, I’m so fucking diplomatic you could just shit a brick.)

Also, even setting all that aside… Nothing personal, but I don’t take anybody up on any suggestions that include the phrase “perhaps you should collaborate with my wife” ever since the Incident That Shall Not Be Discussed over at Tharl Stonebleeder’s house.  Now stop making me think about things that cannot be unthought.  MOVING ON.

 

Hail Warchief.

Rumors are flying that there is a red pox outbreak. Is this anything like the scourge?

–Kelytas, Blood Elf Paladin, Borean Tundra

Wait, again with the Red Pox?  No!  We’re not going to talk about the Red Pox.  Why the fuck is everybody so curious about the Red Pox all of a sudden?

 

I really enjoyed that Photo-Op you had with King Varian a while ago.  I couldn’t help but notice that King Varian had a wonderful tousled-Anime-pigtail thing going on that was at the same time sexy but tough, and you…well, you just look cranky.

I checked in with the Couturier Barbershop in downtown Orgrimmar and was quite frankly shocked at the dismal array of hairstyles available.  An up-swept Mohawk with a scarf?  Are you kidding me?

I know you might have a couple of things on your plate right now but seriously, you really need to look into this before the entire Horde start looking like extras from Naxxramas.

Maybe you could contact King Varian, find out who does his hair and we could have a Stylist Exchange with one of our Barbers so they could learn some new hair techniques and bring back the Glory of the Horde.

I also noticed that our Tailors are in desperate need of new patterns.  Malevolent-style silk pantaloons?  Really?  That is so last-season…

–A Concerned Fashionista Blood Elf

Lor’themar, is that you?

Yeah, let me get right on that.  I’ll send a special diplomatic courier right over to Stormwind with a note that says, “Who does your hair??”  Yeah, that would go over great, I’m sure.

Hmm.  Actually, come to think of it, a message like that would probably seem SO weird to Varian that it might fuck with his head a little.  Like, I can totally imagine him reading that and thinking, “Garrosh wouldn’t give a shit about my hair…WHAT IS HE UP TO?”  And then he gets all paranoid and shit.  And meanwhile I’m just sitting back and not doing anything, and the longer this goes on the more paranoid he gets – ESPECIALLY when it’s time for him to go to the barber, because, hey, THIS IS WHAT GARROSH WAS ASKING ABOUT.  And maybe he gets so messed up and suspicious that he stops going to the barber altogether, and his hair grows and grows, and finally he’s just got this total mess of a rat’s nest on his head, until maybe he eventually can’t stand it anymore and shaves it all off and ends up bald.  Same as me.

There you have it, ACFBE.  Problem solved.  Garrosh comes out ahead of the curve yet again.  Boom.

 

Hail, Warchief!

I’m studying Orcish History at school and need to write an essay. I thought I’d write about the Red Pox and it’s impact, and I thought it would be neat if I could quote you on the subject, if you don’t mind.

I know it was a terrible illness, but there aren’t any first-hand records that I’ve been able to find. What was it like to live with the Red Pox? Do you remember much from those years? Did you notice any major differences between Orcish society as a whole and the way Orcs lived in Garadar? Pretty much anything you can remember would be great.

Thanks!

–Anonymous Scholar, Orgrimmar

Okay, so at least NOW I have some idea of why everybody’s got the Red Pox on the brain this week.  So okay, fine, just this once I’ll talk about it, seeing as I’m probably one of the only Red Pox survivors a lot of these kids will have the chance to meet.

It sucked.

What, you wanted more?  FINE.

I’m not going to waste time going over the symptoms, because there must already be records of that, and I’m pretty sure neither one of us wants to spend our lunch break reviewing my childhood vomiting habits.  But yeah, I had it as a kid, and even setting aside the physical suffering of it all, I can’t stress enough how much of an effect it had on the culture of Garadar.  I mean, you asked if there were any major differences between Garadar society and orcish society as a whole?  Fuck, what WASN’T different?  The Red Pox hung over our whole culture.  It touched everything.  We had whole generations who were born and died – prematurely, granted – under the bane of that thing.  That was the worst part of it, really – the sense of resignation it left us with.  It was like, for a lot of us, there was this sense that the Red Pox came for our grandparents, and then it came for our parents, and now it’s going to come for us.

Over the years, our shaman kept working to find a cure, and every so often there would be a glimmer of hope that maybe they had something.  But then there would always be some disaster that would undo it.  After a while that became part of the gloom and doom of it – the shaman would come up with a new possibility, and you never quite stopped hoping, but deep down you were thinking, “Okay, let’s see what fucks it up THIS time.”  Even when they finally did find a cure, and the suffering could finally end, a lot of us couldn’t even quite believe it was really happening.

Adding to all this, by the way, was the fact that over in Telaar, the draenei had their own parallel illness going on for a while.  It was called the lank distemper – or the “Lanks,” as a lot of folks ended up calling it.  Basically an infection that caused severe dehydration and loss of appetite, so the afflicted would wither down to these scrawny shadows of their former selves.  Sometimes the two diseases would flare up as if they had a contest going to see which one could kill more victims.  Which made for some miserable times for everybody involved.  Believe me, for anyone who was living through it, you do NOT want to get them started on the whole Lanks / Red Pox rivalry.

Is that enough?  Are you happy yet?  Or do I need to relive the time the conjured healing sphere rolled between Bullrok’s legs and into the lake, too?

 

Dear Garrosh;

Winter Veil is here! Time for a great orc cheer! Lok’tar!

I am so looking forward to making cookies and milk for Greatfather Winter this year with my new cooking skills I learned from Pilgrim’s Bounty holiday. I may even add some lemon squares to add some extra favor. I’m really hoping this year he’ll give me a ferocious armored bloodwing with exotic leather saddle for riding. That would be so cool! (Sigh, I’ll probably end up with another copper racer though.)

What are you hoping for Winter Veil this year, Mr. Garrosh sir?

Varian on a spire tree?

Blood and thunder!

–Ruekie, Shaman-Still-in-Training

PS: Greatfather Winter looks awful familiar, but I can’t quite figure it out. Kinda like Mr. Saurfang, but that would be impossible…I think. (Nothing is impossible with Mr. Saurfang.)

PPS: Winter Veil holiday is a great time for eating. Try no to eat too many lemon squares, though, sir. It doesn’t take much to make your muscles look like marshmallows.  D: 

Bye!

Wait, Ruekie AGAIN?  When the hell is she writing all these letters?  Fuck, maybe I should hire HER as a scribe, if this is how fast she can crank out pages.  Anyway.

So also, before we get into anything else…hang on, you want a BLOODWING for Winter Veil?  A frigging BAT?  All of a sudden, a WYVERN isn’t good enough for little miss tornado-pants?  You’ve seen Mortimer in action, up close and personal, and you’ve decided, “Nah, let’s give the universe a sporting chance – keep the wings, take away all the parts that really make the wyvern badass, and replace them with a giant blind rat”?  Are you KIDDING me?

I already answered the part about what I want for Winter Veil a few letters up, so no need to get into that again.  And I’m not going to dignify the lemon squares thing with a response.  But I have to comment on that thing you said about Greatfather Winter.  You know, one thing that people always say about Greatfather Winter is that there’s no way the guy could possibly fly all around the world and deliver presents to everyone in just one night.  Well, I think you might have found the one gaping hole in that theory.  So, next time you find yourself in an argument with some skeptic who doesn’t want to believe in Greatfather Winter, just unload this one on them:

“I’m telling you, there isn’t enough time for Greatfather Winter to do all that!  It isn’t physically possible!”

“What if Greatfather Winter is really Saurfang?”

“Oh… Um… Well then.”

 

Yo Mon!

I hear you had de red pox, mon. On dat game Earth Online dey has a disees call chicken pox. Es dat de same? (What do chickens haf to do wit dat?)

Dey say in dat game, once you hav it, you cannot get et again. Yah, mon, you are now invisible to dat disees, like de lich king’s horse.  Dat is good news!

Cheers, mon!

–Bobbette, Out der somewhere

Okay.

So.

I am beginning to get the very distinct impression that I may be getting trolled.

 

Hey mon!

What’s dis I be hearin’ about da Red Pox breakin’ out again?  It be all anybody be talkin’ ’bout dese days!  If you get it, does dat mean ya turns red?  I remember seein’ some red orcs back in Hellfire Peninsula, mon, was dey havin’ da Red Pox?  Dey go from green ta red?  Don’t get me wrong, mon, I don’t want nobody gettin’ sick, but if dere be anudda outbreak, look on da bright side – all dat red an’ green togetha be lookin’ nice an’ festive for Winter Veil!

–Bob, Shado-pan Monastery

I hate you.  I really, truly hate you.

 

Excuse me, Warchief, I write to you from Dustwallow marsh, I came here to see if I could find test subjects for a new flamethrower, and found something much more interesting, there is this mysterious woman on the road to the ruined theramore (hah!) and she seems to be able to send me back in time to look at theramore and the swamp before theramore was destroyed, I went to sleep at mudsprocket and woke up in present day. She seems upset that I was killing humans as soon as I was there, and refuses to send me again.

–Ritaba, Mudsprocket 

Wait, wait, hang on.  Let me get this straight.  You’re telling me that there’s someone hanging around Dustwallow Marsh sending people back in time to Theramore before we blew it up?  As in, making it possible to totally sidestep our whole victory and interact with the place like it was before?  That… fucking hell, THAT DEFEATS THE WHOLE POINT OF US BLOWING IT UP IF YOU CAN FUCKING DO THAT!

You know, this has the Bronze Dragonflight written all over it — or at least it WOULD, if it weren’t for the fact that this is PRECISELY THE SAME KIND OF SHIT they they’ve been recruiting people to PREVENT for years now, and by the way didn’t I just march through like 50 miles of steaming shit over their whole “integrity of the past” deal last year?!  But hey, apparently it’s NO BIG DEAL when you’re talking about Theramore, right?  SURE!  WHY NOT?  Hey, how about I zip on back to the past and start fucking with shit too, because I GUESS THAT’S ON THE MENU NOW, RIGHT?

Fucking dragons.  FUCKING TIME TRAVEL!

UGH!

 

I have been reading the history of Pandaria, and discovered something no one has bothered to take note of, seven burdens of Shaohao, the story of how the last emperor of Pandaria defeated the six sha and locked them away in a poor fashion (He couldn’t have kept them from causing havok any time someone gets cranky?), and there are older writings indicating a beast with seven heads, perhaps there is a seventh sha never recorded, it could be the key to controlling them.

–Yinsun, Vale of Eternal Blossoms

Now see, THIS is an example of some research that might actually be useful.  You might be on to something there, Yinsun.  It DOES seem kind of fishy that we have this story about Shaohao and his seven burdens, and this seven-headed thingamabob, and then we only have six sha that we know about.  It’s definitely worth considering whether we’ve got one more sha on the loose that nobody’s thought of.  (Hell, I was even bouncing ideas about this around with some people on Twitter a little while ago.)

For anybody keeping score at home, we might as well start with the basics.  Right now, we’ve got six sha accounted for: the Sha of Doubt, the Sha of Anger, the Sha of Despair, the Sha of Violence, the Sha of Hatred, and the Sha of Fear.

So, okay, let’s suppose there’s one more out there.  Since the sha we know about all seem to be named for pretty major negative emotions or vices…hmm…let’s see, what do we have left for major negatives?

There could be a Sha of Greed, I suppose.  Although…I mean, we have goblins with us, and I have to figure if there were a Sha of Greed, people like Grizzle Gearslip would be setting the fucker off left and right.  The Sha of Jealousy, maybe?  Makes sense on paper, but again, you’d figure we’d be having outbreaks all over the place, seeing as we’ve got a base full of people who’ve been watching me stroll around day after day.  And you KNOW the peeps get jelly when they feast their eyes to the pure awesome that is yours truly, amirite?

So we’re kind of running out of major vices to pair up with the missing sha.  What else is there?  Free-associate, Garrosh… hmm… the Sha of Gluttony?  The Sha of Sloth?  The Sha of Anteater?

Hang on…I think that line of thought took a wrong turn on me somehow.

Maybe we’re going about this wrong.  Time to think outside the box a little.  For all we know, this last sha could be kind of a niche sha, something more specific and less…well…grandiose.  Which might explain why this one might have been able to fly under the radar all this time.  So, let’s see, what else could be out there as the sneakier, subtler bane of our existence…

  • The Sha of Social Awkwardness
  • The Sha of Small Talk
  • The Sha of Poor Table Manners
  • The Sha of Bad Penmanship
  • The Sha of Bad Spelling
  • The Sha of Typos (possibly related to above)
  • The Sha of Not Picking Up After Your Wyvern
  • The Sha of Repetition
  • The Sha of Redundancy
  • The Sha of Telegraphing Bad Jokes
  • The Sha of Walking Really Slowly in Front of People at the Mall
  • The Sha of Paper Towels with Inexplicably Strong Perforation So You Try to Snap Off One Square and End Up Yanking Out Half the Roll
  • The Sha of Telling the Same Story Over and Over and Over Again Even Though Yes I Already Know How You Met Eitrigg Okay Tirion

Okay, you know what?  This is going nowhere fast.

Wait, wait, hang on a second… I could swear I HAVE seen another sha somewhere.

shaofhappiness

HOLY FUCKING HELL THAT’S IT!  THE SHA OF HAPPINESS!  Come to think of it, I even remember seeing this fucker on Twitter!  Fuckin’ A, I KNEW all those annoyingly happy assholes like Mylune were up to no good!  IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW.

 

Okay, that’s going to do it for this time, but keep those letters coming.  You guys really stepped up to the plate with this batch of letters, so you know what that means — THE BAR HAS BEEN RAISED.  So keep it going, and I’ll try to be back with more wise words soon.  Handy form included:

Encore

Posted in Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , on November 3, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

The Karazhan Opera House curtain rises.  As a drum beat begins, Garona dances at center stage, surrounded by Gul’dan, Medivh, and Cho’gall.

 

{MY GARONA}

GUL’DAN:

Oh my little stabby one, stabby one,
Come along and look in my eye’s corona.
Now my binding spell is spun, won’t be undone:
Fight it if you want, but you’re mine, Garona.
Never going free,
Barely sane,

Such an angry mind,
You’re gonna kill King Llane,

Take the blame,
Just as I designed –

You’re my, my, my-y-y, woo!
M-m-m-my Garona!

MEDIVH:

Come on down to Karazhan, for Gul’dan;
Soon you’ll have your Emissary persona.
While Sargeras pulls my strings, plotting things,
Something in you draws you to me, Garona.
Never holding back,
Love takes wing,

Fight it if you can;
You always had a thing

For a fling
With an older man –

You’re my, my, my-y-y, woo!
M-m-m-my Garona!
M-m-m-my Garona!

CHO’GALL:

When you gonna come at me?  Let me see.
Stop your hiding out by that ghost Karoma.
Twilight Bastion destiny, better flee.
If you get too close then you’re toast, Garona.
Sneaking up the hills,
Fight and scrap,

Take the bait, go on;
You’re yelling “Holy crap!

It’s a trap!
Gotta fight a gronn –

My, my, my-y-y, woo!
M-m-m-my, my, my-y-y, woo!
M-m-m-my Garona!
M-m-m-my Garona!
M-m-m-my Garona!
M-m-m-my Garona!

GUL’DAN, MEDIVH, and CHO’GALL:

Ohhh, my Garona!
Ohhh, my Garona!
Ohhh, my Garona!

The audience bursts into applause; Garona, beaming, steps forward and opens her mouth as if to speak or sing.  The curtain closes in front of her.

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.

BERTHOLD:  Yes?

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

BERTHOLD:  Yes!

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.

DONTRAG:  Oh.

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…

GARROSH:  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.

The Wizard of Zhan, Act 2

Posted in Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 29, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

The curtain rises, revealing the Gold Road coming to a fork in the marsh at a small guard tower.  Garrosh, Garona, and Mortimer enter.  Seated next to the tower entrance, two guards – Dontrag and Utvoch – entertain themselves tossing coins.

GARROSH:  Huh.  Do you know which way we’re supposed to go?

GARONA:  I’m not sure.  It’s been a while.

GARROSH:  How do you know this wizard again?

GARONA:  Long story.  <looks around>  I suppose we could ask the guards.

GARROSH:  <squints, looking at them>  For some reason, I don’t have a great feeling about that.  But whatever.  HEY, you two!

Dontrag and Utvoch scramble to their feet and grab their axes.

DONTRAG:  Halt!

UTVOCH:  Who goes there?

GARROSH:  Uh, you can stop trying to act like you were actually paying attention to what was going on.

DONTRAG:  Begging your pardon, sir, but rested assurances we are in full commanding commandeered command of the situation.  At hand, sir.

UTVOCH:  What may have appeared to the untrained eye, sir—

DONTRAG:  The uninitialized!

UTVOCH:  Uninitialized?

DONTRAG:  Isn’t that what you meant?

UTVOCH:  The uninitialized eye?

DONTRAG:  Well maybe you could take out the “eye” part?

GARONA:  Were you thinking of maybe “uninitiated”?

UTVOCH:  What’s wrong with just “the untrained eye”?

DONTRAG:  Fine, say it your way.

GARROSH:  I think I’m starting to get a regrettably familiar headache…

UTVOCH:  As I was meaning to say, sir…

GARROSH:  Oh good,  Here we go.

UTVOCH:  To the untrained eye, it may have appeared and belied that my comrade Dontrag and I were diverted and distracted, but you see, sir, that’s all just part of our clever ruse.

GARROSH:  A ruse?

UTVOCH:  Yes sir.  Our cunning plan!

GARROSH:  You have a ruse?

UTVOCH:  We do, sir – a great clever devious one, sure to outwit and unfox even the most surreptitious and scheming of foes!  A great airtight inconceivable ploy, ma’am!

GARROSH:  I don’t think that word means what you think it means.

UTVOCH:  Sir?

GARROSH:  Just go on.  Or don’t, actually.

UTVOCH:  Just meaning to say, sir, my colleague and I might have looked to be distracted with our game, but if you take my meaning, sir, that’s just to lull any enemies into a false sense of security, sir.

DONTRAG:  They see us busy at the tower and underestimate us!

GARROSH:  I don’t know if anyone could underestimate you two.

UTVOCH:  Thank you, sir!

DONTRAG:  And they try to put one past us, and lo and behold!

UTVOCH:  Ha!  HA!

Garona, who had wandered off by this point, unstealths further up the road, on the far side of the guard tower, and waves.

DONTRAG:  You’ve got to get up pretty early in the morning to put one past ol’ Dontrag and Utvoch, sir!

Garrosh points to Garona; Dontrag and Utvoch turn to look, then do double takes.

UTVOCH:  Hey!  You can’t be over there!

DONTRAG:  No one passes this checkpoint without they’ve been approved and authorized and added to the official commendatory-ish list!

UTVOCH:  No one else is to pass, ma’am!

DONTRAG:  Those are our orders!

GARROSH:  Your orders?

DONTRAG:  Yes, sir!

GARROSH:  Whose orders?

UTVOCH:  The Warchief’s orders, sir!

Garrosh stares at them for a moment, then looks at Garona, then rubs his eyes.

GARROSH:  I’M the Warchief, you pinheads.

Dontrag and Utvoch do another double take.

UTVOCH:  I think we may need to add more detailed notes to the list.

GARROSH:  I think you may need something other than cottage cheese between your ears.

DONTRAG:  Yes, sir.  Sorry, sir.

GARONA:  You know, if they came along, maybe the Wizard could do something for them.

GARROSH:  WHY would you even SUGGEST—

UTVOCH:  Really?  That would be most magnanimous of you, sir!

DONTRAG:  It would be an honor to join you on your quest, sir!

UTVOCH:  A group quest, as it were!

DONTRAG:  With a tremendous quest reward for Utvoch and I, sir – and most beneficiallacious to everyone!

 

{IF WE ONLY HAD A BRAIN}

DONTRAG:

We would cause much less frustration,
And need less explanation
To make the meaning plain.
Write your order down and send it;
We would truly comprehend it
If we only had a brain.

UTVOCH:

We would free our conversation
From overcompensation:
The knowledge that we feign.
You might think of us as nerdy,
And we wouldn’t be so wordy
If we only had a brain.

DONTRAG and UTVOCH:

Oh, we would finally know,
Our heads not filled with wool.

DONTRAG:

Instead our heads with knowledge would be full.

UTVOCH:

It would be inconceivable!

DONTRAG:

Life would be such a joy hence,
To not be an annoyance,
And not be thought a pain.
You would not be near as wary
Of our weak vocabulary
If we only had a brain.

UTVOCH:

We’d listen while you’re talkin’,
And not feel like we’re walkin’
Two steps behind again.
You’re be happy when you meet us
(Or at least you wouldn’t beat us)
If we only had a brain.

GARONA:  See?  They mean well.

GARROSH:  Yeah, yeah, fine.  They can come along.  Only question is, which way?  We still never settled that.

DONTRAG:  We’re on it, sir!

GARONA:  See, I told you.

DONTRAG:  You call it, Ut.

GARROSH:  Wait, call it?

UTVOCH:  Heads, north!

DONTRAG:  Tossing!

Dontrag tosses a coin.

GARROSH:  Seriously?

DONTRAG:  Tails!

UTVOCH:  South it is.

GARROSH:  You know what?  Fine.  Whatever.

 

{OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD (REPRISE)}

ALL:

We’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!
We’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan!

Blackout.  The Gold Road winds past Blackrock Mountain through a fiery landscape.  Garrosh, Garona, Dontrag, Utvoch, and Mortimer enter and make their way cautiously along the road.

DONTRAG:  I don’t really like the looks of things here, sir.

GARONA:  This is a dangerous region.  Rumor has it that a few last lingering members of the black dragonflight lurk around here.

UTVOCH:  Dragons?  Really?

DONTRAG:  Don’t forget the ogres.  Aren’t they supposed to be especially hostile in these mountains?

GARONA:  Not to mention the orcs.

GARROSH:  Um, you mean like every single one of us here?

GARONA:  Hey, I’m half draenei.

GARROSH:  Yeah, but you’re passing.

GARONA:  Well still, I’m talking about Blackrock orcs.  They’re nothing but trouble in this region.

DONTRAG:  Ugh.  Dragons and ogres and orcs.

UTVOCH:  Oh my.

GARONA:  Dragons and ogres and orcs.

UTVOCH:  Oh my.

The group begins to march along the road faster, in rhythm with their words.

ALL:  Dragons and ogres and orcs!

UTVOCH:  Oh my!

ALL:  Dragons and ogres and orcs!

UTVOCH:  Oh my!

ALL:  Dragons and ogres and orcs!

UTVOCH:  Oh my!

ALL:  Dragons and ogres and orcs!

UTVOCH:  Oh my!

As the group passes an outcropping of rock, Mokvar – wearing clattering plate armor – jumps out and attacks them, beginning with a chain lightning that knocks Garrosh, Garona, and Utvoch back.  Mokvar knocks down Dontrag and stands over him, rearing back to swing his mace.  Garrosh charges back in and knocks Mokvar away.

DONTRAG:  Wow, you weren’t kidding about the Blakrock orcs being bad news around here.

MOKVAR:  I’m not a Blackrock orc!  You’re the Blackrock orcs!

GARROSH:  Dude, what is this, a schoolyard?

MOKVAR:  You’re not Blackrock orcs?

GARROSH:  Do I LOOK like a Blackrock orc?  You seriously can’t tell Blackrock from Mag’har?

MOKVAR:  <shrugs>  Yeah, fine.  In that case, you all be on your way and I’ll get back to my business.

GARROSH:  What this yen you’ve got against the Blackrocks, anyway?

MOKVAR:  That’s between them and me.

GARONA:  And anyone else who happens to come walking down this road.

GARROSH:  I don’t know what your problem is with them, dude, but you might want to let it go before somebody ends up getting hurt.  Like mainly you.

MOKVAR:  Would if I could.

GARONA:  Why can’t you?

MOKVAR:  The Blackrock clan…well, one of them…took something from me that… Look, if I could put it past me and forget about it, I would.  It would make life a whole lot easier…

 

{IF I ONLY HAD A HEART}

MOKVAR:

It’s true, I’m kind of bitter;
My mercy’s in the shitter,
My anger off the chart.
Maybe wrongs could be forgiven
And I just could go on livin’
If I only had a heart.

An orc that I won’t mention,
Reviled past comprehension,
That’s where it found its start.
But my smiles would be addictive
If I just weren’t so vindictive,
If I only had a heart.

Picture me a balcony,
Above a voice speaks low,
Illuminated by the fires below.
I hear a blast…aghast.

Now I wish I could forget it,
Those moments I regretted
That tear me all apart.
I could end all my fighting
And I’d get back to my writing
If I only had a heart.

DONTRAG:  You know, maybe the Wizard could do something to help him, too.

GARONA:  I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try.

GARROSH:  I guess.  Maybe he’ll give me someone to have some actual decent conversation with on this trip.

GARONA:  I’ve been trying to talk to you this whole time!

GARROSH:  As I was saying.

MOKVAR:  You people are funny.  You should write some of this down.

GARROSH:  Funny you should mention.  I want to discuss that with you during the trip…

 

{OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD (REPRISE)}

ALL:

We’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!
We’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan!

Blackout.  The group follows the Gold Road through Duskwood, where it passes an alchemy station manned by Faranell.

FARNELL:  Hey.  I’m Edwin, I could go for a trip to the Dark Tower too, everybody cool with that?  Yeah?  Good.  Let’s get going then.

GARROSH:  I— wait, what?  You just want to…

FARANELL:  Yeah, look, I’ve been watching this from backstage, and rather than doing some little vignette about me joining the group, I figured we could just save time and move things along.

GARROSH:  <clapping Faranell on the back>  Good man.

FARANELL:  Okay, so, cue the exit song.

 

{OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD (REPRISE)}

ALL:

Weeeeeeeeee’re off to—

GARONA:  Wait, wait, hold on.

GARROSH:  What’s the matter?

GARONA:  What do you want to see the Wizard for?

FARANELL:  …I want his autograph?

GARROSH:  Does it really matter?

GARONA:  Hey, somebody has to keep the plot on track with some kind of integrity.

MOKVAR:  Personally I think that train left the station somewhere around the “Time Warp” ripoff.

FARANELL:  Well, what have you got so far?

GARONA:  Dontrag and Utvoch want a brain.

FARANELL:  Shouldn’t they specify two?

GARONA:  Isn’t that splitting hairs, really?

FARANELL:  Listen, I’m a mage.  I know all about ironic technicalities when people phrase their magic requests vaguely.

GARROSH:  Whatever.  Honestly even one brain between them would be an improvement.

GARONA:  And then Mokvar wants a heart.

FARANELL:  Hmm.  Okay, well, keeping with the whole anatomical theme, I guess I could ask him for some guts.

GARROSH:  Really?  You don’t seem so cowardly.

UTVOCH:  Actually I thought you were kind of badass back in that cellar.

FARANELL:  No, no, I’m not talking about courage.  I mean literally, guts.  Look at me.  I’m undead.  I’m missing half my internal organs.

 

{IF I ONLY HAD SOME GUTS}

FARANELL:

The bile I feel is sadder,
’Cause I’ve got no gallbladder,
No ifs, no ands, no buts.
Now I’d finally have uses
For these jarred digestive juices
If I only had some guts.

No liver, so I’m thinkin’
I’d better not be drinkin’.
I really don’t see what’s
The point of an appendix,
But I would give mine a mend fix
If I only had some guts.

Once I had them back,
It would never discard.
I never should have once let down my guard
And signed that organ donor card.

Those toxins, I would rid these
If I just had some kidneys.
Necrosis, it rebuts.
But my pain would heal faster,

MOKVAR:

All this anger I would master,

DONTRAG and UTVOCH:

Our ideas won’t be disaster,

GARROSH:

And I’ll kill that demon bastard
If that caster is a caster, not a putz.

DONTRAG and UTVOCH:

Then we’re sure to get a brain.

MOKVAR:

A heart.

GARROSH:

A…means to summon a demon prince and by the way I’m not even bothering to try to get this to fit the actual meter of the line here, so sue me.

FARANELL:  <blinks>

Um, okay… Some guts.

GARROSH:  Okay, that works.  Moving on.

 

{OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD (REPRISE, FOR REAL THIS TIME)}

ALL:

We’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!
We’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan!

The group marches down the road and offstage.  The curtain closes.

 

{TO BE CONTINUED IN ACT 3}

The Wizard of Zhan

Posted in Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 28, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

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.

GARONAFine.

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}

Intermission

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

So don’t ask me to explain what the hell THAT was.  As far as I can tell, whatever glamor hocus pocus Barnes has going on here in the Opera House can pull bits and pieces out of all our thoughts and memories and yank them together into these stories.  Which is kind of cool, I guess, as long as you’re watching it and not stuck in the middle of it.  Or, you know, winding up fake-dead on the floor in the middle of it.  It’s a really weird experience having it happen to you, like you’re watching yourself do this stuff from the inside, only you don’t really have control of it other than short little snippets.  Almost like getting hit with a priest’s mind control.  Only with singing and dancing, in this case.

That last one was extra weird, though.  At least with the first show, it was pretty much working off of our experiences with Southshore and the second timeline and all that.  But with that second one…I mean, I get that parts of it were playing off of things we’ve experienced and modifying them to fit this other story, like the bombing of Theramore, and me and Varian getting into it in Dalaran, and a ton of other little things.  But it’s still really weird seeing them get tweaked like that.  Plus I don’t know WHAT the hell was going on with Mokvar and that human.  Maybe that’s just something the glamor played around with, seeing as Mokvar had some time as a freelancer before he came to Orgrimmar, but I don’t know.  Makes me wonder if I need to start keeping an eye on him too.  You know, along with the zillion other people I’m having to keep an eye on these days.

Anyway, I was stupid enough to think we were finally done with all this crap, so during the intermission after that second show, I pulled Barnes aside (well, as much as you can “pull” a noncorporeal ghost anywhere), but it ended up being another mixed bag.

 

GARROSH:  Okay, ghost boy, are you satisfied yet?  Are you ready to help us now?

BARNES:  I’d say you and your friends have certainly earned some assistance, sir, yes.

GARROSH:  Oh thank goodness.  So now that we’re done with the stupid stage shows, we can—

BARNES:  Oh, I didn’t say we were done yet, though, sir.  There is still the third show to tend to.

GARROSH:  You just said you were going to help us.

BARNES:  Yes, sir, I did.

GARROSH:  But you’re still throwing us out there for another one of these damn things.

BARNES:  We did bill it as a triple feature, sir.

GARROSH:  You want to explain how all that fits together?

BARNES:  You’ll get your help, sir.  We’ll just work it into the performance — all part of the magic of show business, you see.  Literally in this case, as it happens.

GARROSH:  <grumbles>  You know, it’s a really lucky thing for you that you’re already dead, spooks.

BARNES:  <shrugs>  In any case, sir, I think curtain time has arrived.

GARROSH:  Great…

Barnes walks back onstage and stands under his spotlight while the ghostly audience applauds.

BARNES:  Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this evening’s final presentation!  Tonight, we plumb the depths of the human soul—

GARROSH:  <offstage>  Fuck that human shit!

BARNES:  Erm, the orcish—

GARONA:  <offstage>  Only half!

BARNES:  The…orcish and half-orcish—

LIADRIN:  <offstage>  No billing for elves?

BARNES:  <sighs>  Tonight, we plumb the depths of the…racially diverse…bipedal…

Barnes looks offstage uncomfortably, bracing himself for another interruption; when none comes, he lets out a sigh of relief and continues.

…racially diverse bipedal soul—

FARANELL:  <offstage>  Haven’t had one in years!

BARNES:  We’re going to show you a story about some people, okay?  And…join a lost orc trying desperately, with the help of his loyal companions, to find a way to protect his home.  But…he is pursued by a wicked, malevolent crone!

The audience gasps.

Will he survive?  Will he prevail?  Only time will tell.  And now: On with the show!

West Azeroth Story, Act 3

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

The curtain rises.  Spotlights illuminate the left and right sides of the stage separately, as Garrosh leads the Horde forces across the Barrens on one side and Varian leads the Alliance from Theramore.

 

{QUINTET}

HORDE:

The Horde is gonna have its day
Tonight.
The Horde is gonna have its way
Tonight.
Alliance think we’re jokin’, no doubt,
But once their king is broken,
We’re kicking them out.

ALLIANCE:

We’re gonna look ’em in the eyes
Tonight.
We’re gonna cut ’em down to size
Tonight.
We told ’em they could can it: war cries.
We’ll kick ’em off our planet
Once Garrosh, he dies
Tonight.

HORDE:

We’re gonna stop it tonight,
We’re going to drive them off and take Kalimdor!

ALLIANCE:

We’ll turn the tables tonight,
We can’t afford to mess around anymore –
Green-skins invade us!

HORDE:

The Legion made us!
But this time we’re the ones who’ll finish this war!

ALL:

Tonight!

A spotlight illuminates a Theramore courtyard at stage right, where Jaina is seen with Rhonin.

JAINA:

I really do not like this plan
Tonight.
Things really could get out of hand
Tonight.

RHONIN:

They’ll show up for the battle:
Brief truce.
With you there, maybe that’ll
Give an excuse
Tonight?

Jaina nods to Rhonin and rushes out.

A spotlight illuminates Mokvar crossing the Southfury River into the Barrens.

MOKVAR:

Tonight, tonight,
This stinks like saronite.
Tonight the flames of war could be fanned.
Tonight, tonight,
When our two leaders fight,
That Malkorok may have something planned.

One more spotlight illuminates the Theramore tower, where Deliana looks out a window.

DELIANA:

Tonight
The past may come back calling,
The future that we’re stalling,
And now, out of my sight,
There’s such a fright
That what we’ve done is coming to light…

HORDE:

The Horde is coming out on top tonght!
We’re gonna watch Varian drop tonight!
They’ll go slow as molasses,
Cry and pout.
The door will hit their asses
On their way out.

Garrosh, Malkorok, the rest of the Horde group, and Deliana overlap:

GARROSH:

<to Malkorok>  You keep a wide-open eye.

MALKOROK:

Right.

GARROSH:

In case he tries something sly.

MALKOROK:

Right.

GARROSH:

For the Horde!

HORDE:

For the Horde!

MALKOROK:

And they might have a surprise
Tonight.

DELIANA:

Tonight, tonight
Our role it might indict,
Tonight the flames of war could be fanned.

The Horde, Alliance, Mokvar, Deliana, and Jaina – who is now riding across Dustwallow Marsh – overlap:

HORDE and ALLIANCE:

We’re gonna stop it tonight!
We’re gonna end it tonight!
They’re gonna get it tonight!

ALLIANCE:

They invaded,
They invaded,
They invaded.

HORDE:

Here we’ve made it,
Here we’ve made it,
Home: we made it.

ALLIANCE:

We can’t afford to mess around.
Alliance has to win the day,
Alliance has to find a way.
We’ve got to stop it tonight.

HORDE:

We’re gonna grind them to the ground,
The Horde is gonna have its day,
The Horde is gonna have its way.
We’ve got to stop it tonight.

JAINA:

Tonight, tonight,
We just might
Have one chance to get it right:
Now Jaina’s got to find a way
To broker peace before the fray:
Will cooler heads carry the day?
Tonight, tonight,
Our future could be bright –
I’ve got to stop it tonight!

DELIANA:

Tonight, tonight,
When our two leaders fight,
That Malkorok may have something planned.

MOKVAR and DELIANA:

Tonight
The past may come back calling,
The future that we’re stalling,

MOKVAR:

And now, within my sight,

DELIANA:

And now, out of my sight,

MOKVAR and DELIANA:

There’s such a fright
That what we’ve done is coming to light…

ALL:

Tonight.

Blackout.  From either side of the stage, the Horde and Alliance enter the Battlescar in the Southern Barrens.  Both groups spread out over their respective sides of the field, then Garrosh and Varian approach each other at center stage, accompanied by Malkorok and Mathias Shaw.

VARIAN:  Warchief.

GARROSH:  Dickface.

VARIAN:  You’re a classy guy, Hellscream, anyone ever tell you that?

GARROSH:  I can have them put that on your gravestone if you want.

VARIAN:  Are you ready?

GARROSH:  To finally put you in the ground?  I’ve been ready for that for years.

Varian draws Shalamayne and extends it in front of him.

VARIAN:  Your blade?

GARROSH:  What about it?

SHAW:  If you would let us inspect it for doctoring.

GARROSH:  What the hell are you implying?

VARIAN:  We’re not implying anything.  It’s just customary to examine each other’s weapons so we can see no one is—

MALKOROK:  The two-legged rodent is suggesting you would poison your blade, Warchief.  For that alone this mongrel will—

GARROSH:  You DARE insinuate I would cheat, human?

VARIAN:  Obviously, Garrosh, you would never employ questionable methods when faced with honorable combat.  Nevertheless.

Varian gestures with Shalamayne.  Garrosh grumbles, then begrudgingly draws Gorehowl and holds it in front of him.

SHAW:  Thank you, Warchief.

VARIAN:  Now then.

GARROSH:  Have your people stand back, Varian.  This is between you and me.

VARIAN:  You do the same.

Garrosh waves to the Horde group, which steps back and spreads in a semicircle from the side of the stage to the background.  Varian signals to the Alliance members, who mirror the Horde’s movements.

MALKOROK:  Now – begin!

Garrosh and Varian rush at each other and begin to fight as furious music swells.  They lunge and parry, circle around the middle of the stage, and match each other’s moves in rhythm with the music.  As the duel unfolds, the spectators begin to shout and cheer for their respective leader, until the cacophonous yells begin to blend into a rhythmic chanting that becomes a counterpoint to the music.

Several times over the course of the fight, Garrosh and Varian lock weapons until one of them shoves the other back toward one side of the stage.  Each time, they circle around then resume their clash at center stage.

Slowly, in the background, Malkorok begins to make his way closer to the Alliance side of the circle.  From under his cloak, he withdraws a long dagger, shining with a sickly green gleam.

Mokvar enters at the edge of the stage.  As he arrives, Garrosh and Varian lock blades and rotate around as each tries to outmuscle the other.  Garrosh finally gains the upper hand and flings Varian back toward the Alliance side.  Malkorok moves toward him from behind, dagger in hand.

MOKVAR:  No!  Look out!

Mokvar runs to center stage and tackles Varian to the ground, in the process knocking him out of the way of Malkorok’s stab.

FALSTAD:  They’re attackin’ His Majesty!

SHAW:  That one had a dagger!

MALKOROK:  <recovering himself>  That treasonous scribe!  He’s helping the human!

SHANDRIS:  They were never going to honor the duel!

GARROSH:  Mokvar!  You!  If I didn’t see it with my own eyes…!

The two sides rush at each other and begin fighting, largely in the background.  At center stage, Garrosh dodges a few Alliance swings, then grabs Mokvar and holds him by his neck while drawing Gorehowl back.

GARROSH:  You…traitorous…!

As Garrosh prepares to swing, Varian grabs him from behind – jarring Garrosh enough to make him lose his grip on Mokvar – and plunges Shalamayne through his back and out of his chest.

GARROSH:  <looking down at the blade>  Oh for fuck’s sake…AGAIN?

MOKVAR:  Oh…oh crap…

GARROSH:  Also, how come this doesn’t actually hurt?  I mean I know I’m badass and all, but…

BARNES:  <from offstage>  It’s just a glamour, you silly actor – special effects can’t really hurt you.

GARROSH:  I…  <looking around>  Oh…

BARNES:  Now stop breaking the fourth wall and get back to your scene!

GARROSH:  Aren’t YOU the one—

BARNESAction!

GARROSH:  <sighs>  Fine.  <flatly>  Oh I am slain.  Oh agony.  Now I shrug off this mortal coil, it is to laugh, the end.  And shit.

Garrosh drops to the ground, where he lays mostly still while making a half-hearted attempt to play dead.  Around him the fighting rages on between the Horde and Alliance.

LIADRIN:  Garrosh!

DONTRAG:  He killed the Warchief!

UTVOCH:  You bastard!

VARIAN:  Victory!  Hellscream has fallen!  For the Alli—

Garona unstealths behind Varian and stunlocks him, then unleashes a flurry of blows until he drops to the ground.

GARONA:  House of Wrynn!  Two generations running!  Tell Anduin to sleep lightly!  Booyah!

Garona stealths again.  The two sides continue to battle frantically.

MALKOROK:  Now!  With Wrynn slain!  Now, shamans, show the dogs the first of our surprises!

A handful of dark-clad shaman emerge from the Horde group and begin channeling spells.  Several of the surrounding boulders begin to glow, then rise up as molten giants and begin to attack the Alliance.

Jaina enters.

JAINA:  By the Light!  What’s happening here?!

FALSTAD:  The devils ’a broken the agreement!

SHAW:  They’ve killed Varian!

The molten giants stomp on several Alliance soldiers and send the group scattering.

JAINA:  We have to get out of here!  Everyone to me!

The Alliance rush to Jaina, who teleports them away.  The shaman stop channeling their spells, and the molten giants collapse back into boulders.

MALKOROK:  Horde!  The Alliance flees, but they will not escape!  Quickly, to Brackenwall Village!  We will regroup and bring the fight to them!  For the Horde!

The Horde exits, leaving the stage empty save for the bodies of Garrosh and Varian.  The stage lights lower, save for dim lights still illuminating the bodies.

GARROSH:  Well that sucked.

VARIAN:  Yeah, it kind of did.

GARROSH:  Yeah.

VARIAN:  Still, though…

GARROSH:  What?

VARIAN:  For the record, I got you.

GARROSH:  Fuck you, Varian.

Blackout.  In a Theramore tower, Deliana paces the room.

Jaina enters.

DELIANA:  Jaina!  What happened?

JAINA:  <sighs>  Varian is dead.

DELIANA:  What?!  How?  You mean now we have to…?

JAINA:  It’s not that simple.  Varian is dead, but so is Garrosh.  I’m still not sure how it all happened – by the time I got there, things had already—

A knock at the door is heard.

JONATHAN:  <outside>  Lady Proudmoore!

JAINA:  Come in, General.

The door opens and General Marcus Jonathan enters, along with Jaina’s night elf bodyguard Pained; the pair holds Mokvar captive.

JONATHAN:  Lady Proudmoore, this orc was found lurking outside the city.  He didn’t resist capture, but he did insist on speaking with you.

DELIANA:  Mokvar!

JAINA:  You know him, Deliana?

PAINED:  You should be more selective in your friends.  Shandris says this is one of the orcs that helped kill Varian.

DELIANA:  He what?

MOKVAR:  That’s…not entirely accurate.

JONATHAN:  That’s enough from you, orc.

DELIANA:  There has to have been some mistake.

JONATHAN:  There were several, starting with the decision to trust these green-skinned—

JAINA:  That’s enough, General.  You can leave us.  I’d like to have a few words with the prisoner.

JONATHAN:  As you wish.

JAINA:  You too, Pained.  Please wait outside.

PAINED:  With all due respect, my lady, my place is—

JAINA:  Is where I tell you to go, Pained.  I can take care of myself.

PAINED:  Yes, ma’am.

Jonathan and Pained exit.  Jaina turns to Deliana.

JAINA:  How long have you known him?

DELIANA:  We go back quite a few years.

JAINA:  You trust him?

DELIANA:  I’ve spent the last six years hiding in Ironforge for safety.  I think he did more to protect me from Orgrimmar in that time than any of the dwarves ever did.

JAINA:  <turns to Mokvar>  They say you attacked Varian.  Here’s your chance to explain.

MOKVAR:  I jumped him.  That much is true.  But I wasn’t attacking him.  I was trying to push him out of the way of the one who was.

JAINA:  Who, Garrosh?  Why would you try to swing the duel against the Horde?

MOKVAR:  No, not Garrosh.  If it was just him and Varian, I would have stayed out of it.  It was Malkorok.  He was about to stab Varian from behind.

DELIANA:  Malkorok… Of course it was Malkorok.

MOKVAR:  It ended up backfiring.  Both sides thought I was working against them, and in the chaos, Garrosh was killed.  And by that point I don’t think anyone was interested in honoring the terms of the duel.

JAINA:  I don’t even know how many on our side will be willing to listen to reason now.

DELIANA:  Jaina, can’t you rein them in?  You’d have to be one of the highest ranking people left.

JAINA:  I can try, but I don’t know how much good it will do.  With Anduin still a boy, there’s no clear line of succession, so right now I’m merely one in a sea of voices.

MOKVAR:  The Horde is having its own problems with succession, only worse.  It looks like Malkorok is effectively taking over.

DELIANA:  Oh no…

JAINA:  Who is this Malkorok?

MOKVAR:  A Blackrock orc who used to work for Rend Blackhand.  At least he gave the appearance of it.  I don’t think he ever really served anyone or anything other than his own agenda.

JAINA:  I take it having him leading the Horde would be bad news for all involved.

MOKVAR:  Let’s put it this way.  I know Garrosh was no bargain.  But this guy?  Malkorok would make Garrosh look like Thrall.

JAINA:  Do you think there are others in the Horde who will still resist him?

MOKVAR:  I know there are others who won’t be thrilled to have him in charge.  The only question is whether Malkorok’s managed to scare them into submission.

JAINA:  Then you need to go do what you can while there are some who’ll still listen.  And if not…

Jaina reaches into a pocket and produces a small, smooth stone with totemic markings, then slips it into Mokvar’s hand.

…I think you know what this is for.

Mokvar nods.  Jaina starts to channel a spell, and a portal appears in the room.

Go now – hurry.

MOKVAR:  What will you tell the others?

JAINA:  You let me worry about that.

DELIANA:  Stay safe, Mokvar.

MOKVAR:  I think “safe” is long off the board for all of us.  But it’s partly our fault this is happening.

DELIANA:  I know.  Be careful.

MOKVAR:  Always am.

Mokvar disappears through the portal.

Blackout.  In Brackenwall Village, the Horde group arrives, met by Krog and Draz’Zilb.

KROG:  Malkorok?  What are you all doing here?

MALKOROK:  The human king is slain – but not without a cost!  The dogs turned on us with aid from one of our own, and murdered the Warchief!

KROG:  They what?  Garrosh is dead?

MALKOROK:  He is…but we will ensure that he soon finds himself in good company.

FARANELL:  Wait, didn’t we have an agreement with the Alliance that the duel would decide control of Kalimdor?  And, well, Varian did kill Garrosh before—

Malkorok steps up to Faranell quickly and knocks him down with a vicious blow.

MALKOROK:  Unless you wish to lose more pieces of that rotting corpse you call a body, mage, I recommend you choose your words carefully.

Malkorok glares around as some of the group exchange looks in uneasy silence.

UTVOCH:  I can’t believe the Warchief died…

DONTRAG:  What are we doing now?

DRAZ’ZILB:  Surely we can’t let the Warchief’s death go unanswered!

MALKOROK:  Nor will we!  Listen to me, soldiers of the Horde!  I had little doubt the Alliance pigs would show their true colors in this affair, but we will see to it that they pay for their treachery!

Mokvar enters.

Oh, and speaking of treachery!  Here’s the dog who turned on his own Warchief to lend aid to the human!  Seize him!

Mokvar is apprehended by a pair of Kor’kron and brought closer to the group.

MOKVAR:  It’s funny how selective your memory is, Malkorok.  I’m a traitor for helping Varian, but you’re awfully quick to gloss over what I was helping him against – we both know it wasn’t Garrosh.

MALKOROK:  You think I hide my role, scribe?  Hardly – I take pride in it!  I came to the aid of my Warchief; you came to the aid of his mortal enemy.  Tell me again which of us here should hang his head!

LIADRIN:  Wait, you were interfering with the fight?  It was supposed to be honorable combat!

MALKOROK:  You will be silent, elf!

Malkorok steps toward Liadrin and throws a punch at her; she deflects it with a paladin bubble, then stuns Malkorok with a Hammer of Justice.

LIADRIN:  Now now, didn’t your mother teach you not to hit a lady?  She would be ashamed.

MALKOROK:  <seething as he collects himself>  She taught me to crush my foes.

LIADRIN:  Then she would be doubly ashamed if the lady in question were to beat you down.

MOKVARThat’s why I jumped in – to keep him from ambushing Varian and—

MALKOROK:  And slaying the leader of our enemy!  Are you fool enough to think you serve our Warchief by saving his nemesis?

MOKVAR:  Garrosh Hellscream had many failings, but he believed in honor.  At least until he started having his steps shadowed by the likes of you.

MALKOROK:  In battle, nothing is more honorable than victory.

MOKVAR:  Funny, I can think of at least one victory Garrosh would have gladly given back…

MALKOROK:  Keep spinning your words, scribe – it’s what a coward like you does, isn’t it?

Malkorok turns to the rest of the group.

The rest of you – what I am calling for is not words.  Your fallen Warchief did not spend his days dawdling over words.  He sought action.  For the safety of the Horde!  For the glory of the Horde!  So let this scribe lull you into submission with his words – I call on you to act!  To avenge your leader!  To finally strike the human disease that has too long infected this continent.  Will you join me?  Or will you sit here, and bandy about words, and wring your hands over niceties – until the Alliance again show themselves for what they are, and again come to enslave our people, and again leave the ground stained with orcish blood?

Many of the Horde troops, including most of the Kor’kron, start to shout in support.

Good!  That is the Horde I know!  Now, all of you!  Follow me, and we will show the Alliance what becomes of those who draw our wrath!  To Theramore!  More surprises await the humans…

DRAZ’ZILB:  None greater than how quickly they’ll fall before us!

KROG:  Hell yeah, we’ll roll over the humans so fast they won’t even know what hit them!

MALKOROK:  Oh no, soldiers, not quickly – quick is painless.  And these humans must be made to suffer for their crimes against our people!

DRAZ’ZILBNow you’re talking my language!

DONTRAG:  <aside>  Does this seem a little strange to you?

UTVOCH:  <aside>  All I know is they killed the Warchief… I guess it makes sense to go after them…

MALKOROK:  Every pain these humans have brought to us will be repaid tenfold tonight!  You want to avenge your Warchief?  Then leave your pity and your mercy here – bring only your rage and your cruelty!

 

{CRUEL}

MALKOROK:

Horde, Horde, angry Horde,
Get cruel, Horde!
Vow again, gents, for your vengeance,
Get cruelly cruel, Horde!
Don’t relent, ’cause we have spent
Too long holding back.
Set in mind that humankind
Is overdue for some cruel payback.

Horde, Horde, vengeful Horde!
Stay fierce, Horde!
From the skies comes their demise,
Bring them to tears, Horde!
Fight, Horde, fight,
Each human we’ll smite, each fool floored.
Unleash, be cruel, Horde,
Real cruel.

Mokvar, Liadrin, and Faranell watch the rest of the group march off behind Malkorok.

LIADRIN:  I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I think I’m actually glad Garrosh didn’t live to see this…

MOKVAR:  Yeah…

Mokvar tries to take a step, but is restrained by the two Kor’kron who’ve remained behind, and are still holding him.

<looking back and forth between the Kor’kron>  Huh.

One of the Kor’kron slumps over, sapped.

KOR’KRON #2:  What the—?

The other Kor’kron turns into a sheep in a puff of smoke.

FARANELL:  That’s better.

Garona unstealths behind the sapped guard.

GARONA:  You really have a way with people, Mokvar.

MOKVAR:  I know, right?  Still…thanks for sticking with me.  All of you.

LIADRIN:  I think we’re about to be outcasts among the outcasts.

FARANELL:  Eh.  You get used to it.

MOKVAR:  I was hoping there would be more who would listen…

LIADRIN:  Right now they don’t know what to think.  So most of them aren’t.

FARANELL:  And the rest of them are Dontrag and Utvoch.  So, you know…

GARONA:  What was that business about the surprise for Theramore?

LIADRIN:  I don’t know, but…wait…that part about it coming from the skies…

FARANELL:  What are you thinking?

LIADRIN:  <looks up>  There’s been a goblin sky galleon circling around the western Barrens all night…

FARANELL:  Sending troops in by parachute?

GARONA:  He would send a gunship for that.  A galleon isn’t designed for troop deployment, just…payload.

LIADRIN:  I think he’s planning to use a bomb…

MOKVAR:  Jaina’s trying to calm the Alliance down and get them to listen to reason, but that’s off the board if Malkorok escalates things even more.

FARANELL:  Remember when this cunning plan was going to spare us a big, messy, drawn-out war?

MOKVAR:  I’m hoping we can still limit the damage…

LIADRIN:  What do you have in mind?

MOKVAR:  For starters – Garona, can you stealth into Theramore?  We need you to warn them about what Malkorok’s doing.

GARONA:  Wait, you want to warn the Alliance that a Horde attack is coming?

LIADRIN:  To keep all of this from getting any further out of hand than it already is.

MOKVAR:  And to let them see that not all of the Horde has gone crazy.

GARONA:  Ugh, fine.  I’ll get in and try to warn them.

LIADRIN:  What about Edwin and I?  What do you want us to do?

MOKVAR:  Run.

LIADRIN:  What?

FARANELL:  I can handle that.

MOKVAR:  Get back to the Eastern Kingdoms.

LIADRIN:  Why?  We should do something to help here.

FARANELL:  Don’t argue with the man.  Not-here sounds terrific.

MOKVAR:  Look, there’s no telling how much uglier this is going to get for us.  If things really go bad in Kalimdor, we need some good people still standing over on the other continent.

LIADRIN:  There’s still Sylvanas and Lor’themar to run things there.

MOKVAR:  You mean Miss “When in Doubt, Throw More Plague on It”—

FARANELL:  You do realize who she has in charge of making all the plague, right?

MOKVAR:  —and Mr. “Does Anyone Actually Know Who I Am, and By the Way Does This Dress Make Me Look Fat”?

LIADRIN:  Seriously, why does no one ever remember who Lor’themar is?

GARONA:  Who?

LIADRIN:  <sigh>

MOKVAR:  Liadrin, really, I know you want to help, but right now the best way for you to do that is by getting somewhere safe.

LIADRIN:  What are you going to do?

MOKVAR:  <taking out the stone he’d received from Jaina>  I’ve got one more card to try playing.

LIADRIN:  Whatever it is, good luck.

MOKVAR:  To all of us.

Garona stealths and sneaks off; Faranell teleports himself and Liadrin away.  Mokvar holds out the stone, channels a spell for several seconds, then disappears in a green flash.

Blackout.  In Theramore, Jaina joins Deliana in the tower above.

JAINA:  You haven’t moved since Mokvar left.

DELIANA:  <shrugs>  As long as I keep looking and not seeing anything, then nothing else is coming apart.

JAINA:  Hopefully he’ll be able to convince them.

DELIANA:  Hopefully.  Thank you for being willing to listen to him.

JAINA:  I’ve been rumored to know what it’s like to trust an orc when it’s not a terribly popular thing to do.

Rhonin enters.  As he does, stagelights illuminate the Theramore courtyard below, where Garona unstealths.  The scene below unfolds as the conversation in the tower continues: Garona is immediately attacked by Pained, Shaw, and a few of the Theramore guards; she attempts to fend off their attacks without actively striking anyone, while trying to talk, but to no avail; eventually more Alliance troops mob her, beating her viciously.

JAINA:  Rhonin – any luck calming them down?

RHONIN:  <shaking head>  No more than you’ve had so far.  This entire turn of events is proof of why both sides should have listened when we tried to start peace talks.

JAINA:  I don’t think listening was ever the strong suit of either of the leaders involved.

RHONIN:  Still, I’m hopeful that given a chance to calm down, they’ll eventually be willing to reconsider.

JAINA:  The question is whether they’ll give themselves that chance to calm down.

RHONIN:  You think they might do something rash?

JAINA:  If they don’t, the Horde might.  Either way, we all lose.

Falstad and Jonathan drag a bloodied Garona up to the tower and enter, followed closely by Pained and Shaw.

JONATHAN:  Lady Proudmoore, we have another Horde captive!

JAINA:  What…what did you do to her?

SHAW:  Nothing these orcs don’t deserve.

FALSTAD:  Aye, the troops made sure this one’d be takin’ some partin’ gifts, if’n she escapes…

JAINA:  This… Is this what it’s come to now?  Is this what we’ve reduced ourselves to?

PAINED:  We didn’t start this war, my lady.

GARONA:  <halting>  No…but Malkorok…is coming…coming to finish it.

JAINA:  Malkorok!  He’s still in charge?  Mokvar couldn’t stop him?

GARONA:  He…he tried… And then he…he sent me to…to warn you…to…  <looks around disgustedly>  …to save you…

JAINA:  Warn us about what?  What is Malkorok doing?

SHAW:  <shoving Garona>  Answer her, orc!

JAINALet her!

GARONA:  Malkorok…Malkorok is bringing the Horde to…to attack Theramore…and…  <spits out blood, then looks around again angrily>  He’s throwing the whole force at the north gate…

PAINED:  We can pull everyone into the keep and fortify it, my lady – they’ll never get past the walls without siege engines.

SHAW:  Still, I’d recommend sending out an advance force to intercept, maybe thin out their numbers before they can get here.

JAINA:  See to that, Mathias.  While you go out to meet them, we’ll make sure the city is sealed up tightly.  General Jonathan?

JONATHAN:  Yes, Lady Proudmoore?

JAINA:  I want you, General Redmane, and Admiral Aubrey coordinating the defenses here.  I’ll speak to Rhonin about setting up some spells to reinforce the outer gates.

JONATHAN:  Yes, ma’am.  I’ll relay your orders.

Jonathan runs out.  As he releases his grip on Garona, she jerks to one side and pulls free of Falstad’s grip, then stealths.

FALSTAD:  Dammit!  Where’d tha’ one go?

PAINED:  We’re having a very bad day with prisoners today…

JAINA:  Never mind that – everyone get to work preparing for the attack.

The other officers exit.

I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this…

DELIANA:  I think I see them coming…

JAINA:  <sighs>  I’d better get down there, then…

Jaina exits; Deliana continues watching from the window.

Blackout.  In Dustwallow Marsh, near Theramore, Malkorok enters with the rest of the Horde force, stage left.  From stage right, an Alliance group enters, led by Falstad, Shandris, and Shaw.

SHANDRIS:  There they are!  Stop them!  For the Alliance!

The Alliance rushes at the Horde and the two sides begin fighting.  Malkorok stands back, surveying the battle and watching the sky.  As the fighting rages on, he fires a flare into the sky; after a moment, a blinding burst of light flashes from offstage to the right, as an enormous explosion is heard.  The blast throws several of the Alliance on the right side of the stage a good distance to the left, and many of them sprawl on the ground unconscious.

MALKOROK:  HAHA!  There!  It is done!  See what becomes of the enemies of the Horde, Alliance dogs!  Now, quickly, finish them all, and—

MOKVAR:  <offstage>  Not so fast!

Mokvar enters in ghost wolf form from stage left, closely followed by Vol’jin mounted on a raptor and Baine Bloodhoof on a kodo.

VOL’JIN:  Yah, mon, dere been enough killin’ already taday!

MALKOROK:  You!  I see the traitor has made friends among the malcontents!  No matter, troll, you can watch and learn how—

BAINE:  We will watch nothing other than you standing down!

MALKOROK:  Stand down!  Do you think yourself Warchief now, tauren?  Is that an order?

BAINE:  No, Malkorok, I know I’m not Warchief.  <stares Malkorok down a moment>  And yes, that’s an order.

From stage right, Jaina staggers in unsteadily.

Lady Proudmoore!

SHANDRIS:  <pulling herself up slowly>  Jaina…you…you survived…!

JAINA:  Rhonin…Rhonin ported me out of the city at the last second… But he…he…

MOKVAR:  <looking offstage to the right>  Liana…?

JAINA:  <looking back>  My…my city…my people… They’re…they’re…

MALKOROK:  Enough of this!  Soldiers of the Horde, this is our moment – strike down your enemies once and for all, and—

BAINE:  They will do nothing of the kind, Malkorok!

VOL’JIN:  You be done givin’ orders, mon!

MALKOROK:  And who will, troll?  You?  You think you have any authority to take over here?

VOL’JIN:  Funny ting you be askin’, mon.

Another ghost wolf enters behind Vol’jin, Baine, and Mokvar.

I ain’t da one who be takin’ over.

The ghost wolf moves to center stage and transforms into Thrall.

THRALL:  I believe you’ve done more than enough today, Malkorok.

MALKOROK:  So the prodigal shaman returns!  No matter!

Malkorok draws his axes and rushes at Thrall.  Before he can reach him, Thrall extends one hand and summons a whirlwind that holds Malkorok suspended above the ground.

THRALL:  I’ve faced far more imposing threats than you.  More menacing and chilling than the likes of you could even imagine.

MALKOROK:  <struggling to break out of the whirlwind>  Yes, I know all about your battle with Deathwing, shaman…

THRALL:  I was talking about Aggra with morning sickness.

Jaina finally pulls her attention away from the ruined city and approaches center stage, looking around angrily.

JAINA:  I tried to tell you… And Rhonin… You did this…all of you…did this with your hate…  <starts to build a fireball in her hand>  Well now I have some hate of my own…

THRALL:  Jaina, no!

JAINA:  Don’t try to defend him, Thrall!  You see what he did here!

THRALL:  <glares over to Malkorok, still suspended>  I could care less what happens to this…this.  But the rest of my people have done nothing.

Jaina continues gathering the fireball in her hand as she eyes Malkorok.  In the background, Dontrag and Utvoch can be seen helping Falstad and Shaw to their feet.

JAINA:  Get them out of here.

SHAW:  But Jaina, they—

JAINAToday isn’t the day for anyone to argue with me.  Get them together and get them away from here, Go’el.

Thrall nods, then gestures to Vol’jin and Baine.

BAINE:  All of you, come and come quickly.

VOL’JIN:  Time ta make ourselves invisible like da Lich King’s horse!

BAINE:  You really need a new joke.  Seriously.

The Horde slowly makes its way offstage to the left; Baine and Vol’jin follow them.  Mokvar finally pulls himself away from the sight of Theramore and slowly walks across the stage, stopping to stare a moment at Malkorok as he goes, then exits as well.  Jaina’s gaze never moves from Malkorok.

JAINA:  We’ve all lost a great deal to this conflict…  <looks back over her shoulder>  All of you…leave us.

The Alliance members trickle out; Shaw is the last one to linger at the edge of the stage.

SHAW:  Um, actually, strictly speaking, there isn’t anyplace for us to go to anymo—

JAINAGet OUT, Mathias.

SHAW:  Random swamp wandering it is, yes ma’am.

Shaw exits.

JAINA:  You should go too, Thrall.

THRALL:  I suspect there are more than a few pieces to pick up back in Orgrimmar.

JAINA:  You should go help pick them up, then.

THRALL:  I’m sorry for your people, Jaina.

JAINA:  A lot of us are sorry.  Or will be.

Thrall releases Malkorok and starts to walk away.

MALKOROK:  The great Warchief!  That’s it, is it?  You side with this human over your own kind!

THRALL:  <continuing to walk away without looking back>  You are not my kind, Malkorok.

Thrall exits.

MALKOROK:  Don’t you walk away from me when I’m—

Malkorok starts to move toward Thrall but is stopped when Jaina unleashes her fireball on the ground in front of him, cutting off his path with a wide patch of flame.

JAINA:  Malkorok, is it?  I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.  I’m Jaina Proudmoore.  <summons another fireball in her hand>  I think it’s time we had a long, long – terribly long, really, and maybe unnecessarily slow – talk.

The curtain closes.  Just as it does, a bright red flash can be seen through the heavy cloth, accompanied by an orcish voice crying out.  The remaining stage lights go out.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,659 other followers