Archive for magatha

The Liebster Award comes to Orgrimmar

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

liebsteraward

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

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

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

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

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

1.  Favourite race/class in WoW and why?

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

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

2.  Achievement/Title you’re proudest of?

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

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

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

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

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

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

4.  Favourite expansion/instance/boss fight?

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

5.  Pet peeve in WoW?

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

Humans.

Gnomes. OMFG gnomes.

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

Dontrag.

Utvoch.

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

grammar

Varian, especially the way he keeps breathing.

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

6.  What inspired your blog?

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

7.  Favourite blog-related moment?

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

fyv

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

8.  One thing you can’t live without?

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

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

9.  Place you’d most like to visit?

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

10.  Favourite fictional character?

At the risk of being repetitive, this guy:

metzen

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

11.  Soundtrack to your life?

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

 

 

But there’s also this:

 

 

And this:

 

 

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

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

 

 

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

 

 

Also, the kazzoo?  That’s totally me.

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Tao of Ji Firepaw

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

orgrimmar4

So since that last little…discovery…Liadrin’s been buzzing around Orgrimmar, helping with the relocated refugees.  At least as far as the world at large can see.  Most of the new arrivals have settled in pretty well.  A few are pretty eager for some payback against the Alliance, in fact, so we’ve even gotten a few new recruits out of the deal.

Mostly, though, she’s been helping Shayari get adjusted.  Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be too keen on a blood elf taking up the job of teaching someone what it means to be Horde, but I’ve worked with Liadrin enough to know she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders.  Plus Shayari already seems to be on decent enough terms with her, so she’s probably going to be more comfortable with Liadrin than she would with some other random person.

Meanwhile, I had a meeting this morning with Krog, who was reporting on a few investigations he was working on while I was in Pandaria.  What he found ended up prompting me to schedule another impromptu meeting this afternoon.

Kicking it over to Tak’s record…

 

(Yay!  I get to be Mr. Warchief’s scribe again!  Mr. Warchief looked super serious, so I guess this was a big important meeting.  Ms. Ben-Lin Panda Lady was there, and so was Mr. Krog, another orc I don’t know too well.  I’m sure he’s nice, though!  Mr. Warchief must have a hard job if he needs so many people to help him!  I hope I do okay!

Mr. Malkorok came in at the start of the meeting, but he only stayed for a minute.  He didn’t look very happy, though.  He should smile more!  I bet he wouldn’t be so grumpy then.  He brought Mr. Goblin and Mr. Ji Panda Man with him.  I think maybe their feet were sore, because Mr. Malkorok was carrying them by their collars.  That’s nice of him!  Maybe he’s starting to be nicer!)

MALKOROK – Here they are, Warchief.  Let me know if they cause you any…difficulty.  (flinging Spazzle and Ji into the room)  I’ll be only too happy to use less of a soft touch to show them out.

(I guess not.  He seems so mean sometimes.  I don’t understand why.  =(  )

GARROSH – That’ll be all for now, Malk.  I’ll check in with you later.

MALKOROK – Yes, sir.  If you’ll excuse me, then, I have a few matters to see to with the provisioners.

(Mr. Malkorok left.  Yay!)

SPAZZLE(rubbing his head)  So… um… what’s going on, boss?  You know if you wanted to see me, you could have just shot me an IM, or—

GARROSH – Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure you got over here without any extra stops along the way.

JI – Oh.  Um… is it a surprise party or something?

(Ooh is it?  I love parties!  Yay!)

GARROSH – Oh, there’ve been some surprises, all right.

JI – Is there cake?

SPAZZLE – Ji…

GARROSH – But this is no party.

(Oh.  =(  )

SPAZZLE – So… what’s up, boss?

(Mr. Warchief looked back at Mr. Krog and Ms. Ben-Lin-Lin.  Then he turned back and stared at Mr. Goblin and Mr. Ji for a minute.  He looked really angry – I wish he wouldn’t get so upset!)

GARROSH – Did you really think I wasn’t going to find out?

SPAZZLE(blinking)  Um…?

JI – I don’t think I underst—

GARROSH – YOU keep quiet, Paddington.  I’ll get to you.  (turning back to Spazzle)  Now then.  Back to you.

SPAZZLE – Uh… okay…

GARROSH – See, I’ve had Krog here looking into a few security matters while I’ve been away.  And, oh man, did he ever have an earful for me this morning.

SPAZZLE – Oh…  So, um… what was Krog… uh… looking into, chie—

GARROSH- Don’t sit there and act like you don’t already know, dammit.  Don’t insult my intelligence on top of everything else.

(Mr. Goblin started looking really nervous.)

GARROSH(pointing to Ji)  Now, THIS one I could understand, because seriously, who knows WHAT Stuffed-With-Fluff here is thinking any given day.  But YOU?  You’re the last one of ANY of these clowns I would have expected to go sneaking around behind my back.

SPAZZLE – I… sneaking around…  (eyes going wide)  Oh… oh frak

GARROSH – OH FRAK IS RIGHT, whatever the fuck it means.  Did you SERIOUSLY think I wasn’t going to find out you were getting mixed up in this Mokvar business?

SPAZZLE – I swear, boss, I only ever talked to Vol—V—ohlOh.  Oh!  Oh…yeah.  The Mokvar business!  Right.  That’s…that’s what I’ve been doing, all right.  Red-handed, yes sir.  That is indeed the entirety of my suspect behavior, absolutely.  Don’t, um, don’t know what I was thinking, chief!  (slapping his own hand repeatedly)  Bad!  Bad Spazzle!

GARROSH – Dude, seriously, you are so fucking weird sometimes.

(Everyone’s so upset today!  It makes me sad.  =(  )

JI – Garrosh, you shouldn’t be angry with Spazzle.  I was the one that—

GARROSH – Believe me, Deep-Dish, there’s PLENTY of blame to go around.  From what I can tell, you’ve BOTH been keeping plenty busy.  MATTER OF FACT – Krog, you wanna give them the short version before they start getting a case of patchwork memory?

KROG – Yes, sir.  (flipping through a note pad)  Shortly after Eitrigg banished Mokvar

GARROSH – Only good move the old prune made while I was away, by the way.

KROG – …Fizzletrinket was observed meeting with Mokvar and the human Deliana in Everlook, Winterspring.

SPAZZLE – Wait, how did you trail me to Everlook?

KROG – I’m a rogue.  Work it out.

SPAZZLE – But why were you observing me?

KROG – I observe everyone.

GARROSH – He’s very thorough.

SPAZZLE – But I hadn’t done anything—

GARROSH – Until you did?

KROG – To continue…  (flipping through pad again)  No unusual behavior observed until some weeks later.  A short time after the purge of Dalaran, Fizzletrinket is known to have reached out to Earthen Ring contacts in and around Orgrimmar.  Shortly thereafter, Firepaw observed traveling to Earthen Ring outpost in Twilight Highlands.  Subsequent investigation indicated Firepaw had approached Earthen Ring elders concerning locating Mokvar.

GARROSH – So.  Here’s where one of you starts talking.  I don’t really care which one.

(Mr. Goblin and Mr. Ji stared at the floor.  Maybe they didn’t hear Mr. Warchief?  Oh, or did someone drop something?)

GARROSH – Okay then.  How about this.  Why weeks of nothing, then all of a sudden you jump into Mokvar mode?  Was it a signal?  Some message he got to you somehow, maybe something you planned for at your little get-together in Winterspring?

JI – We haven’t heard anything from Mokvar, no…

GARROSH – I know he gave you something, Greenie.  Some— what was it, Krog?

KROG – A small parcel, sir.  Delivered to Fizzletrinket in Everlook.  I wasn’t able to confirm what it was exactly.

GARROSH – Yeah.  So…was that part of it?  Or is it some other surprise I get to look forward to?

SPAZZLE – It… it was a totem.

GARROSH – Go on.

SPAZZLE – It’s called a recall totem.  Shamans attune themselves to them so they can teleport back home with their Astral Recall spell.

GARROSH – And Mokvar was giving it to you because…?

SPAZZLE – So… when this was all over…he could bring himself home.

GARROSH – Oh, so you mean, back home to the place he got himself BANISHED from?  And you just went right ahead and helped him set up to pop back into town and do spirits-knows-what he’s planning?

SPAZZLE – It doesn’t really matter at this point…

JI – You don’t know that.

GARROSH – What the hell does that mean?

SPAZZLE – The totem… the totem went out.  It fizzled out.  The spirit link between Mokvar and the totem was broken, and the only reason that would happen is if Mokvar was dead.  Like, for-real dead.

JI – We still can’t be sure.

SPAZZLE – You only say that because you’re not a shaman.  You don’t understand.

JI – I say it because I’m not a pessimist.

SPAZZLE – Anyway.  That’s…that’s why we were trying to reach the Earthen Ring.  To see if there was any way to find out for sure what happened to Mokvar.

GARROSH – You just said he’s dead.  What else is there to know?

SPAZZLE(shrugging)  I don’t know.

GARROSH – Huh.  Dead.  (thinks)  Good then.  Best news I’ve heard all day.

BEN-LIN – Garrosh, please—

GARROSH – Not now, Ben.

BEN-LIN – If he is indeed gone, there is nothing to be gained from—

GARROSH – Ben, CAN it.  So.  You two.  Why?

SPAZZLE(staring down)  I guess I just wanted to believe there was a reason for all the weird things he was doing.

BEN-LIN – Garrosh, it does not appear there was really any harm in—

GARROSH – DAMMIT, BEN, STOP ACTING LIKE MOKVAR WAS SOME POOR INNOCENT VICTIM!  I still don’t understand half the shit he was doing, but I don’t need to.  Dealing with some human, with that Neeru Fireblade…most of all cutting some kind of deal with MAGATHA.  You haven’t been around that long, Ben, so I don’t expect you to have any idea what that MEANS—

BEN-LIN – I understand your anger, Garrosh.  But what Ji and Spazzle have done—

GARROSH – IS THE SAME DAMN THING.  (glaring back at Spazzle and Ji)  Listen… I can deal with the bitching from Baine.  And I can take it from Lorthe’motherfucker, because what else would I expect from him?  And I can take it from Sylvanas, because let’s face it, she’s kind of evil anyway.  They come with the job.  I inherited them.  But THEM… Spazzle and Mokvar… I CHOSE them.  I fucking LET THEM IN.  And now—

BEN-LIN – And now you feel betrayed and angry.  I understand.

GARROSH – Is this where you give me one of your speeches about pushing the anger down and burying it, or some shit?

BEN-LIN – Not at all.  Your emotions are real and valid.  They cannot be contained and ignored, or they will only fester; they must be let out, and dealt with.

GARROSH – Listen, you’re here to help me try to talk sense to Double Stuff over there, not to start fortune cookie-ing on me.

SPAZZLE – Look, chief, I get why you’re mad, and I’m sorry…

JI – I’m not.

GARROSH(blinking)  Excuse me?

BEN-LIN(facepawing)  And here we go.

JI – I’m not sorry.  Mokvar is my friend.  He’s your friend, too.  I don’t know why you’ve chosen to forget that, but I don’t regret trying to help him.

GARROSH – Lunchbox, maybe you just haven’t been paying attention to what the fuck’s been going on, or maybe it all just slipped out of your damn head, what with all the bacon fat you’ve got up there apparently—

SPAZZLE – Whew, and I thought I was in trouble up to a minute ago.

GARROSH – …but I tried to help Mokvar too, when all the weird crap started happening.  I tried to PROTECT him – and he thanked me by running around with at least two and maybe three or four of enemies.  If he was such a great friend, you want to explain to me why he’d be dealing with the likes of Magatha?  Riddle me THAT one, Pudge.

JI – I don’t know.

GARROSH – Yeah, so—

JI – That doesn’t mean he had no reasons for doing what he did.  It only means we don’t know what those reasons were.  Until I find out, why should I assume the worst?

GARROSH – Because you’ve got an ounce of sense in your head?  OH WAIT, APPARENTLY YOU DON’T.

JI – Garrosh, I don’t know all of what Mokvar was doing, but I know he’s a good man.  So whatever he’s done, I’m willing to trust it was what he needed to do.

GARROSH – Yeah, well, that’s great, Second-Serving, but you know what?  Some of us have to live in fucking REALITY-LAND.

JI – Garrosh—

GARROSH – Seriously, Ben, do you hear this shit?

BEN-LIN – I do.

GARROSH – I don’t know where he gets this crap.

BEN-LIN – We study it, sir.

GARROSH – Yeah, well— what?

BEN-LIN – Consider, Garrosh: I know – well, I suspect – you are already familiar with the Huojin philosophy of action, that challenges are to be faced directly and decisively.

GARROSH – Yeah, I remember one of you people yammering about that when you first got here.

JI – That was me.

GARROSH – It was?

JI – Yes, sir.  Right before you made us fight an arena full of monsters.

GARROSH – Ah.  Well then.

BEN-LIN – And while we hold to this ideal of decisive action, Garrosh, another key component for us is that those actions be based upon the world as it is, not as the world as we might wish it to be.

JI – Otherwise, you expend your energy trying to force square pegs into round holes, then raging at the pegs for not fitting.

BEN-LIN – It is a point I have tried to make with you before, Garrosh.  Much of your anger, I feel, stems from insisting of the world, “This is not supposed to be happening this way,” then attempting to force it to happen some other way.

GARROSH – Funny, I feel pretty sure it stems from the fact that I’m surrounded by TRAITORS AND FUCKING MORONS.

KROG – Um…

GARROSH – Not you, K.

BEN-LIN – “Traitors and morons,” as you put it—

GARROSH – FUCKING morons.  Not just garden variety.

BEN-LIN – …being a perception, you see, grounded on the insistence that those people’s choices and intellects should be something other than they are.

GARROSH – I… erm… what the FUCK does any of this have to do with fucking ANYTHING?  I don’t even know what we’re fucking TALKING about!

JI – It’s not that complicated, Garrosh.  Things happen in the right way, at the right time – when you let them, rather than struggling against them.  Mokvar needed to act.  So he followed the path that the world placed before him.  Just as I, faced with a friend in danger, acted by following the path that was available to me.

BEN-LIN – According to Huojin, the greatest wrong would be not to act.

GARROSH – Oh for fuck’s sake… Well, whatever, Heaping-Helping, your “paths” or whatever have reached a dead end.

JI – Actually, I’d wanted to ask you, I was thinking—

GARROSH – Well DON’T.  DON’T think.  Just do what you’re fucking told for once.  Starting with parking yourself at home and staying there.  (turning to Krog)  Krog – escort Stay-Puft here back to his house, and make sure he stays there.  I’ll have a guard sent over to keep an eye on the door.

KROG – Yes, sir.

GARROSH – Consider yourself under house arrest until I decide what to do with you.

JI – But I think there still might be a—

GARROSH – THERE’S NOT.  THE END.  Now GO.

JI – If you say so, Garrosh.  Time will tell, I suppose…

(Mr. Krog left with Mr. Ji.  I’m confused.  Everybody seems so upset and nervous and they’re yelling and arguing and nobody seems to be getting along even though we’re all friends and I don’t understand why.  It gives me sad kitty face.  =(  )

SPAZZLE – Really, chief, try not to be too hard on him.  He’s just been worried since Mokvar disappeared, and—

GARROSH – Why are you talking like you’re off the hook now yourself?

SPAZZLE – Um…

GARROSH – You can count yourself lucky that, far as I can see, you’ve mostly just been the messenger in all this.  And BOTH of you are lucky Mokvar’s gone to the big rez timer in the sky, otherwise I wouldn’t be nearly so generous with either one of you.  But you, Short Stack, you can consider yourself under house arrest too while I cool down.  Just so happens, I’m not so worried about you trying to skip town before I post the guard.

SPAZZLE – Uh…yeah, okay, chief… I guess I can keep myself busy online for a while, while you…you know…think things over.

GARROSH – I mean, seriously, with all the time you spend on Earth Online, you’ve practically been on self-imposed house arrest almost the whole time I’ve known you.  You’ll live.

BEN-LIN – I think it is wise that you are not rushing to a decision with angry, Garrosh.

GARROSH – Yeah, whatever, Ben.  Anyway, Spazzle, you get your tail back home pronto.  I need to go track down Faranell and see if he’s finished those tests on Shayari yet.

BEN-LIN – Shayari?

SPAZZLE – Yeah, she’s…  (stopping himself, looking to Garrosh)  Um, that is…

GARROSH(shrugging)  Whatever, I’d end up telling her anyway.  Shayari’s my daughter.  We think.

BEN-LIN – Your… you have a daughter, Garrosh?

SPAZZLE – It’s okay if you need to sit down.  I did at first.

GARROSH – Yeah, we think so.  Faranell’s doing his tests now, but her story seems to check out.

BEN-LIN – I see.  (thinking)  Well then.  I will clear my schedule for the next week.

GARROSH – Turns out, she was born back in Nagrand when I was like eighteen, only I never knew about her until just a few days ago.

BEN-LIN – So…you have a long-lost, newfound…teenage daughter?

GARROSH – Yeah.

BEN-LIN – Very well.  The next two weeks.

SPAZZLE – You haven’t heard the best part yet.

BEN-LIN – Oh dear.

GARROSH – Uh, yeah, she’s…kind of…well, her mother was draenei.  Shayari was living with the Alliance in Dalaran until, you know, the shit hit the fan and Jaina kicked her out…

BEN-LIN – A month.  One month, but that is as far as I can go.

GARROSH – Anyhow.  I need to go find the doc.  Might as well get this confirmed, as if there’s any doubt left at this point, what with how Mortimer is doting over her.  I’ll expect you back at your house before the guard gets there.  Don’t make me come looking for you, Greenie.

(Mr. Warchief left, still grumbling a little.)

BEN-LIN – A daughter… why that is… How old did you say she is?

SPAZZLE – Seventeen, I think.

BEN-LIN – Goodness, that is…that is simply remarkable!  And he had no idea until now?

SPAZZLE – You wouldn’t ask that if you’d seen the shade of gray he turned when he found out.

BEN-LIN – My word… This is astounding!  Garrosh reunited with an unknown daughter, from across faction lines!  I scarcely have words for it!

SPAZZLE – Huh.  You know, not for anything, but you seem really jazzed about this.

BEN-LIN – Are you kidding?  (beaming)  This is going to put my grandchildren through college.

 

 

[A quick update on the Transmogs for Shayari contest!  First of all, thank you to the many readers who have already sent in outfits for Shay – they’ve been great so far, so keep them coming!  I just wanted to correct an error that I noticed in the original announcement: I had listed the deadline for the contest as Saturday, February 27.  This is problematic, in that February 27 is not a Saturday.  Don’t ask me what happened there.  I was probably having another one of my many episodes.  At any rate, I figure I may as well err on the side of giving people more time rather than less, so let’s revise the due date to the next Saturday after the 27th, which would be March 1.

I think.  Hang on.

<checks calendar all paranoid-like>

Yes, there we go.  So, officially: the deadline for the Transmogs for Shay contest is SATURDAY, MARCH 1!  Get thee to mogging!]

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:

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 17, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream

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So before I head out to check on the Temple of the Red Crane, I figured I’d make a quick mailbag check and dip into the latest batch of letters.

 

Dear Warchief,

Hello sir.  I’m one of Overlord Runthak’s trainees and I’ve been reading your blog for a long time.  I’ve noticed that between Garona and Warlord Zaela, and even mailbag writers like Wega, you really seem to have a following among the ladies.  My question is, how do you do it?  I haven’t had much luck with the girls in my training group, and I bet it would help a lot if I knew your secret.

Thank you,

–Dol’akar

Hoo boy.  This one again.  See, Dol’akar, I wish it was that simple, but seriously, this is kind of like going up to Mylune and saying, “Teach me to be batshit crazy like you.”

Thing is, something like 85% of my game comes down to the fact that I look like a canister of distilled sexy, kick ass on two planets, and – let’s face it – lay the pipe like an army of plumbers in the Wetlands.  And all that’s just natural.  Now, since you’re a trainee, I’d like to tell you that part of your problem is that you’re still just a teenager, and adolescent awkwardness and blah blah blah, and things will get better as you get older, but honestly?  I was doing just fine for myself when I was a teenager in Nagrand (I tell you, those draenei girls were crazy back in the day), so, you know…again, natural.

Still, if you think it’ll help you at all, I can let you in on the other 30% of my game.  To start with, you want to buckle down in your combat training.  This should help you in a number of ways.  First off, it’ll keep you in good shape, which at least gives you an outside chance of offsetting a little sliver of the disadvantage of having no shot at being as dead sexy as me.  Second, it’ll put you in a better position to beat the living crap out of any competition you might run into from among the other trainees.  This will show the girls that you’re sensitive to their needs.  Those needs being, of course, that they need to stop wasting their time on those other assholes and focus on you, and hey, what the fuck do you even think YOU’RE doing here, chump?  But yeah, girls seem to like that sensitivity crap – don’t ask me why – so that should win you some points.  And third, the better you do in battle, the faster you’ll be able to advance through the ranks.

Which brings us right to our next point: power is sexy.  Let me tell you, after Nazgrim made the jump from Sergeant all the way up to Legionnaire and then General, he had women all over him.  You know, until he crashed two ships and killed them all.  But that’s a whole other thing.  (This reminds me of another suggestion: Work on your piloting skills.  Because why tempt fate?)  Anyway, point being, moving up in the world can only help your chances.  Just keep in mind that you’re looking at a hard cap of High Overlord, seeing as the only thing above that is Warchief, and we all know I’m not going anywhere for a long time.

Hope this helps.

 

Hey hey, Garry!  Wazzup, my man?

I just built myself a chopper and it’s hella rad. Damn, but I look kickass ridin’ that hog! Got the ladies all over me.  But then I thought I need some wicked cool tats to seal the deal, ya know what I mean?  So I was flippin’ through some mags for ideas and whoa!  Double page spread of Mr. Warchief-crush-your-head himself!  And I’m like, “Dayum, that’s some fine art right there.”  High five, buddy.

So… where’d you get your ink done?  I need a parlor that can capture my style, yo.

–Fizzpop “The Fizz” Clutchgear

Sup, Fizz.  First of all, before we go any further – I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again:

NotGarryOkay, now that that’s out of the way.

Glad to see that somebody appreciates the tattoos.  Oh, wait, lots of somebodies already do, of the female persuasion (see previous letter).  But still, thanks anyway.

I had most of my tattoos done in that little window of relatively-not-fucked-up time just after becoming Warchief and just before the Cataclysm.  They’re ceremonial markings from the Warsong clan, done by a Mag’har tattoo artist from Nagrand.  I actually had him recommended to me by blademaster Burzum.  He was always really helpful.  You know, before he went all snarly-sha-crazy.  But I digress.

I could put you in touch with the guy if you want to look him up.  If you ever find yourself in Garadar, look for Vanteg.  I hear he’s been in pretty high demand since word got out that he’d done the Warchief’s ink, so you might have to get on a waiting list.  Feel free to drop my name, though.  He might skip you ahead in line.  Either that, or he’ll figure you’re another one of the people who show up and lie about knowing me, in which case, you know, sucks for you.  Them’s the breaks.

 

Hail, Warchief!

Well, of course the Star-Tribune is biased. (Besides, I’m pretty sure that if you trace it through far enough, the Regent-Lord owns it.) That’s not the point. The official line has always been that the Regent-Lord is doing a fine, bang-up job. And, at least out loud and in public, everyone with an ounce of sense agrees. He’s not above having his guys straight-up mind-control people talking out of turn in public. For real-talk, you have to go to the shadowy dives off of Murder Row … and what’s new is that it’s getting harder to find dissent even there. It may be begrudged respect, but growing respect, nonetheless. People want to believe that the old Lor’themar is coming back, the man who used to be the Ranger-General’s second-in-command, the one who used to be … well, not completely useless. And perception can take on a reality all its own.

Then again, this may just mean that the magisters have started slumming, and everyone’s getting a helping of re-programming. It’d still have the same effect, and I’m not qualified to tell the difference.

–A Concerned Citizen

Hey, ACC.  Good to hear from you as always.

So hang on, let me make sure I have this straight.  You’re saying that Ponytail controls the media and information outlets in Silvermoon, is forcibly silencing dissent, and is subtly manipulating the population of his capital city into a hero-worshipping, glory-seeking, cult-of-personality bunch of jingoistic wahoos?

Hoo boy.  That’s not good news for anybody any way you cut it.

 

Warchief Garrosh Hellscream,

Sir,

I was out picking herbs today to mill for me inscription training.  It’s Father’s Day and I was picking Gromsblood, which got me to wondering … How do ye feel about having an herb that only grows in places tainted by fel magics be named after yer dad? And if it bothers ye, have ye ever thought of having it changed?

Sincerely,

–Kriann, Jr. Member, Explorers’ League

Hey, good to hear from you, Kriann.  On the other hand, kind of sounds like you might be a dwarf, in which case, fuck you, Kriann.  Anyway, thanks for writing.

So about the gromsblood.  I see where you’re going with the fel-tainted thing, but that’s never really bothered me.  For one thing, I usually just look at it as a name given to honor the awesomeness of my dad.  It’s actually pretty fitting, in a way.  Wherever there’s land infested with fel magic, wherever there are demons lurking about, there’s a little reminder of Grom, ready to give them the ol’ Mannoroth special.  I usually don’t read much more into it than that.

Also, the fact of the matter is, it’s not at all uncommon to have an herb named after a prominent figure.  There are tons of them.  You probably know about Khadgar’s whisker, for instance, and then there was Arthas’ tears until that stupid ballot initiative passed and renamed them to sorrowmoss, because spirits forbid we should offend the spirit of Arthas and make him cry even more.  But there are actually lots of other, more obscure ones that a lot of people haven’t heard about.  For instance:

Creeping Sylvanas – Sometimes called the Syl-vine-us, although that’s actually inaccurate since it’s not technically a vine.  This is a strange type of plant that’s created by herbicides.  You spray your garden and kill the weeds…and then a few days later, those hey-weren’t-those-dead weeds grow back in the form of creeping Sylvanas.  And start killing loads of other plants and turning THEM into creeping Sylvanas.  And then after a while they seem to settle down and mostly get along with most of the regular vegetables in your garden, only you can’t quite shake the sinking feeling that maybe they’re up to something that you can’t put your finger on.

Broxigar Thornbush – The only plant ever known to harm Sargeras.  Which is a weird distinction to keep track of, but I guess academics need something to do.  Anyway, when Sargeras first arrived on Azeroth, he started ranting on and on about “dark titan” this and “destruction is nigh” that – you know, like you do when you’re a cartoonish bad guy – and then in the middle of this, he pricked himself on one of these thornbushes, and started howling pathetically about “Ouch my finger owies ow OWW!”  Which kind of took the edge off the whole “fiery apocalypse” thing.  Kind of gives you an idea of why the dude lost, though.

Lor’themar Pansy – Contrary to what you’re probably thinking, this isn’t a reference to the actual guy, but to a plant.  As a general rule, if you see some frilly-looking flowers around somewhere, and you kind of recognize them, but you’re not sure what they’re called, so you’re all, “You know, those flowers.  From the place.  The red ones”?  Those are probably Lor’themar pansies.

Cairne Blossom – This plant used to grow all over the place in Mulgore until Magatha tricked me into pruning it all.  Oops.

Fordragon Lily – These tall, striking bulb plants were named for Bolvar Fordragon, since they used to grow all around his old outpost in the Dragonblight.  For some reason, right at the end of the Northrend campaign, they all withered and mutated into a strain of lichbloom.  I’ve never been able to figure that one out.  I tried asking Tirion about it once, and he just got all quiet.  Which is noteworthy because it was the only time in history that the words “Tirion” and “quiet” have ever appeared together in a sentence that didn’t also include the words “needs to be.”

Thrallvine – This stuff grows on the side of your house and pretty much just sits there being innocuous and not doing anything, other than making random passers-by yammer on about how awesome it is.  Then out of the blue it goes on a crazy growth spurt so everywhere you look, there it is, until you’re just goddamn sick of looking at it all the time.  I bet you could replace that shit with a way better plant that would make your house stronger and be nicer on the eyes to boot, but you’ll probably just wind up with a bunch of assholes bitching about it.  Also your landlord seems to have an inexplicable, unhealthy attachment to the stuff so you know they’d never let you get rid of it.

 

That’s it for this time around.  As always, keep those letters coming, and I’ll try to brighten your empty lives with my inspiring answers again soon.

Slow burn

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on May 22, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream

dominationpoint4

 

They’re going to turn against you.  Don’t let them.

 

I’ve had that note sitting on my desk since Garona left a couple hours ago.  Edwin Faranell – the old, young, original, human Faranell, the one had become unstuck in time and seen glimpses of his own future – gave it to me in another reality.  Months ago, or years ago, depending on how you count.  I’ve carried it with me ever since – literally and otherwise.  I took it out after Garona left, and I’ve been sitting here in my office in Domination Point staring at it.

The Vol’jin thing was irritating enough, but at least that got taken care of.  Baine?  Annoying, but I can’t say I’m surprised by his endless griping, since he was always pretty much Vol’jin Lite.  I didn’t really see Lor’themotherfucker coming as the latest malcontent, but then again I hardly ever noticed him at all until recently, so whatever.

But this news about Mokvar makes my blood boil.

For the longest time, he was just some random generic dude hanging out in Grommash Hold.  I befriended him, brought him in on all our major operations, made him one of my personal aides.  My personal scribe – this after he hadn’t even TRAINED inscription until I threatened him with severe pain encouraged him to broaden his interests.  Ordered Garona to shadow him while I was in Pandaria, to make sure he stayed safe.  DEFENDED him to Malkorok I don’t know how many times.  Now he’s got me wondering if I was taking the wrong side in that bizarre feud of theirs.

After he was attacked that night, I could understand him acting weird for a little while.  I mean, I’ve never died, and I don’t plan to anytime soon, but I can see how it could do a number on your head.  So I was willing to give him some slack for some weirdness.  But this goes way, WAY beyond weirdness.  Him going to Neeru Fireblade was fishy enough, considering everything he knew.  And the fact that he forcibly broke out of Orgrimmar infuriates me to no end.  Him hanging out with a HUMAN to boot, well, the less said about that the better.  But the part that REALLY eats at me?  That I’m going to be lying awake nights fuming over?  Magatha.  He went to Magatha.  Cut a fucking DEAL with Magatha, for some purpose I STILL don’t fucking understand.  And now he’s on the loose, who knows where doing who knows what.

And you know, I think this business with Mokvar pisses me off more than any of the other malcontents.  Even when Vol’jin was threatening to put an arrow in my heart, he didn’t spit in my face.

Well, I’ve had it.  With all of it.  I should have listened more to Malkorok.  I’ve given these people too much slack.  And all I get for it is people running their mouths at me and then running around behind my back.  Well, enough is enough.  I’m done putting up with this crap.  I’m taking the gloves off Malkorok, cracking down on all the bullshit I’ve let slide for way too long, and finally getting these people reined in.

There’s a new sheriff in town, fuckers.  And his name is Garrosh Hellscream.

Spazzle Speaks: Homecoming

Posted in Spazzle Speaks with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 8, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream

orgrimmar15

Mokvar is back in Orgrimmar.

That much isn’t a surprise.  The thought never would have occurred to me that he wouldn’t be back.

I just never would have expected this to be the way it happened.

Mokvar was captured in the Barrens by Krog and a security team.  After word came back from Garona that Mokvar had met with Magatha Grimtotem, Eitrigg issued orders that he wanted him brought in.  Mokvar and his human friend Deliana were found heading toward Ratchet, and were apprehended without much of a struggle.

I was able to poke into Grommash Hold when I saw the guards arrive with them, although I wasn’t able to stick around to see everything before I was ushered back out again.  No surprise, Eitrigg was absolutely livid – he was upset enough about the allegations from Ironforge, but this new development with Magatha on top of it was more than even his temper could stand.

I’m nowhere near as good as Mokvar at recording conversations, so I’m not going to be able to provide an account of what I heard as well as he could.  “What are you doing?” and “What are you thinking?” featured pretty prominently for Eitrigg early on, and I distinctly remember him going off along the lines of “You realize we’ll have to report all this to Garrosh, and when he hears half of it, it will be a miracle if we’re not able to hear him screaming all the way from Pandaria.”  He kept trying to get Mokvar to explain himself somehow – he kept pointing out that they’d served together for years under Garrosh and Thrall, that he wanted there to be some reason that could account for the way Mokvar’s been acting lately.  Mokvar wouldn’t give him anything.  He would just shrug and pass on every question.  “I would prefer not to,” or something like that.

I wasn’t there for everything that was said, but here’s where things stand, from what I’ve gathered: Mokvar is being held in what amounts to house arrest.  He’s confined in his home with Kor’kron guards posted at all times – partly to make sure no new attackers reach him, but mostly to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.  Deliana is being held in “protective custody” pending transport back to Alliance territory.

Meanwhile, Garona is planning to join the next troop transport leaving for Pandaria next week to report everything that’s happened to Garrosh personally.  Considering what she’s going to be reporting…I hope she goes in ready to pop Evasion.

In the Pale Moonlight

Posted in Transcripts, Words from a Scribe with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 28, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream

onyxiaslair

The less said about Ironforge, the better.  Even if I wanted to discuss it, which I really don’t, now isn’t the time.

Deliana returned with me from the Eastern Kingdoms, and we met Ji briefly in Ratchet.  He had good news (relatively speaking, at least) from the errand I’d sent him on, even though it had ended up running him from Desolace to Feralas then all the way back up to Stonetalon.  After we all exchanged notes, I sent Ji back home to Orgrimmar.  He resisted at first; he wanted to come with us for this next step.  But he was already deeper in this mess than I’d wanted him to get, and besides, this was my fight, not his.

Liana and I arranged windrider passage from Ratchet down to Mudsprocket.  From there, it was a fairly short ride over to the Wyrmbog, and the cave that used to be the lair of Onyxia.

We entered the cave.  We didn’t venture far, just deep enough to find a corner where every point of entry was visible.  Onyxia’s been dead for years, of course, but that didn’t stop it from being unnerving to go in there.  I’m sure it would have been unsettling in any case, but considering the rumors Theldren had brought back about Nefarian’s old forces being restless again, I found myself still half-expecting a black dragon to come jumping out of the shadows at any moment.  After all, Nefarian and Onyxia had both come back from the dead once already.  Not that I’m one to talk; I’ve died a couple times myself.  Spirits willing, I’d like the last time to stay the last for a good long while.

Eventually, we heard footsteps, and saw the light of a torch approaching from the same direction we’d come.  The footsteps slowly drew nearer, until a single tauren stepped into view.  Between his dark fur and the shadows that shifted around him in the dim cave, he probably seemed a lot larger than he really was.

 

TAUREN:  You are Mokvar?

Mokvar nods.

MOKVAR:  Are you alone?

The tauren tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow.

You know what I mean.

TAUREN:  We honor the terms of the meeting, of course.

MOKVAR:  <faint grin>  So in other words, the rest of your friends are waiting right outside the cave.

DELIANA:  Do you want me to check outside and see—

TAUREN:  If we’d wished to harm you, little one, you would already know it.

MOKVAR:  There’s no need, Liana.  He has a point – if we’re screwed at this point, we’re screwed no matter what.

The tauren looks back and forth between Mokvar and Deliana, then back up the passageway through which he’d entered.  He lifts a horn to his mouth and sounds a low blare.  Deliana continues to watch him closely; the tauren returns her gaze bemusedly.

TAUREN:  You’re going to make me think you don’t trust us, little one.

DELIANA:  You might say you have something of a reputation.

TAUREN:  <nods toward Mokvar>  So do the orcs.  That doesn’t seem to have affected you.

DELIANA:  <shrugs>  I like green.

The tauren chuckles.  From the passageway, footsteps become audible again and grow progressively closer.  After a moment, Magatha Grimtotem enters the chamber and scans the scene.

MAGATHA:  Ah, Mokvar.  It’s been too long.

MOKVAR:  Magatha.  I’m surprised you remember me, to tell the truth.

MAGATHA:  I never forget a face.  <looks to Deliana>  This one is new, though.

MOKVAR:  Yes, she is.

Magatha smirks.

MAGATHA:  You’re not going to introduce us, Mokvar?  How rude of you.

MOKVAR:  On top of everything else, Magatha, do we really need to maintain the pretense that we’re friends now, too?

MAGATHA:  I’m merely trying to be cordial.  <to Deliana>  Is he always this prickly?

DELIANA:  No.  You must have that effect on people.  <looks to Mokvar, then back to Magatha>  But, if it makes you feel any better… Deliana Hawthorne.

MAGATHA:  The pleasure is mine.

DELIANA:  It would have to be.

MAGATHA:  I’m beginning to see why you two get along.

Magatha looks around the cavern.

This is an interesting choice of venues, Mokvar.  Something of a step down from your usual accommodations, isn’t it?

MOKVAR:  A change of scenery now and then can be a good thing.  For instance, last I heard, you were on the run even from your own tribe.

MAGATHA:  You’ll find the Grimtotem tend not to hold grudges long against their own kind.  And I can be very persuasive.

MOKVAR:  Just as well.  It made it a little easier for Ji to get my message to you.

MAGATHA:  I must say I was intrigued.  I’m not unaccustomed to being the object of some…pursuit…but usually only from your Warchief’s usual lot of knuckle-dragging lackeys.  Your furry friend, however…

MOKVAR:  Not your typical Orgrimmar grunt, I know.

MAGATHA:  Yes, he had a polysyllabic vocabulary.  And spent a not-inconsiderable time musing over whether we had anything extra to eat.

MOKVAR:  That’s Ji, yeah.

MAGATHA:  Regardless, I’m quite curious as to why you would seek me out, given the company you usually keep.  Then again… <looks to Deliana> …I doubt your current companion would be well received in Orgrimmar herself.

DELIANA:  Maybe he’s trying to make me look better by bringing in one of the only people who would be less welcome.

MAGATHA:  <chuckles>  As plausible a theory as any.  <looks back to Mokvar>  But not the right one, I suspect.

MOKVAR:  I have some business that’s going to require me to travel to the Firelands.  Trouble is, I’m still relatively inexperienced as a shaman, and my ability to influence the elements isn’t nearly strong enough to keep me safe there.  You, on the other hand…well, whatever else I might think of you, there’s no disputing you’re a powerful shaman.

MAGATHA:  You flatter me.

MOKVAR:  Take it with a grain of salt.  It’s one strength offsetting I don’t know how many despicable things about you.

DELIANA:  I bet she’d also go great with fries.

MAGATHA:  If we’re going to be racist, I’m sure you would be quite adept at climbing trees and picking bananas.  <sneers>  Especially green ones.

MOKVAR:  The point is, I think you might know a trick or two that could help keep me alive when I go.  That’s why I wanted to meet with you.

MAGATHA:  And why turn to me, Mokvar?  There’s certainly no shortage of shaman in Orgrimmar you could have turned to.

MOKVAR:  I’d prefer to keep this trip to the Firelands off the record.

MAGATHA:  The Cenarion druids at Mouth Hyjal?  Thrall and his Earthen Ring?

MOKVARVery off the record.

MAGATHA:  It must be quite the scandal you’re sitting on if you’d rather turn to me than confide in your supposed friends.

MOKVAR:  I have my reasons.

MAGATHA:  And those reasons would be…?

MOKVAR:  Mine.

Magatha grins.

MAGATHA:  Cairne would have liked you.

MOKVAR:  Then it’s a shame he was murdered by a traitor before he got the chance to know me.

MAGATHA:  You shouldn’t talk about your Warchief like that.

DELIANA:  As much as I’m enjoying going back and forth with this…

MAGATHA:  Indeed, let’s cut to the chase.  You need my help, Mokvar, so now for the real question: Why should I give it to you?

MOKVAR:  We both know you don’t harbor any ill will for me, Magatha.  I may work for Garrosh, but your quarrel is with him, not me.  He’s the one you hate.

MAGATHA:  True enough.  But that’s merely why it wouldn’t be worth it to me to go out of my way to hurt you, Mokvar, not why it would be worth helping you.

MOKVAR:  You’re focusing on the wrong part.  Think about this, Magatha.  I work for Garrosh.  I’m there in Grommash Hold every day.  Do you not think that makes me someone who would be…useful to have indebted to you?

MAGATHA:  Surely you’re not naïve enough to assume I don’t already have my informants.

MOKVAR:  Are they in Garrosh’s inner circle?  Do they attend every meeting with him?  Keep a written record, literally, of nearly everything he says and does?

MAGATHA:  <smiles thoughtfully>  Interesting…

MOKVAR:  I thought you might think so.

MAGATHA:  I think I may have an item or two that might help augment your abilities sufficiently for what you have in mind.  Nothing worldshattering, mind you…

MOKVAR:  That’s fine.  I’ve already lived through too many shattered worlds as it is.

MAGATHA:  We can meet again here for the exchange.  Tomorrow at this time?

DELIANA:  How do we know you won’t just be setting a trap?

MAGATHA:  How did you know I wasn’t setting one tonight?  There are two of you – three if you count your bouncing bear friend.  I could bring dozens with a word.  But Mokvar was right about one thing – I have nothing to gain from harming him.  And whatever else you might think of me, I’m not in the habit of doing harm when there’s no benefit to myself or my tribe.

MOKVAR:  Tomorrow night, then.

MAGATHA:  Tomorrow night.

Magatha gestures to the other Grimtotem, and they make their way back up the passage.

DELIANA:  Are you sure about this?

MOKVAR:  Not even remotely.  I may spend the next year washing my hands.

Mokvar peers up the dark passageway for several moments.

I think we’re clear.

Mokvar and Deliana start to walk up toward the cave exit.  As the passage narrows, a low whooshing sound is heard.  Deliana hesitates a moment while glancing around.

DELIANA:  <whispering>  Did you hear that?

Mokvar nods.

<whispering>  There’s someone stealthed in here.

MOKVAR:  <whispering>  It’s Garona.  She came in not far behind us when we arrived.

DELIANA:  <whispering>  You knew she was following us?

MOKVAR:  <whispering>  I was counting on it.

 

 

We’re staying in Mudsprocket until we go back to Onyxia’s lair tomorrow night.  With any luck, things will go off without a hitch there, and Magatha will have something useful for me.  Then that much will be over and done with.

Then comes the hard part.

 

 

Mokvar

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

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}

Same as it ever was

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

I was groggy when I woke up, and even after I opened my eyes, it took a few minutes for my head to stop spinning.  Finally my vision cleared up and I found myself sitting in a chair, sprawled forward over a table.  There were papers under my face, and a few of them stuck to it courtesy of a small puddle of drool.

I straightened up in the chair, plucked the clingy pages from my cheek, and looked around the room.  It was the admiral’s quarters in Northwatch Hold, the room I’ve been using the last few days of our stay here.  The drool-smeared papers in my hand, and others spread around the table, were covered with maps of Theramore, lists of troop assignments, armament logistics, the crew manifesto of a goblin air galleon.

I ran my hands over the table to make sure it was really there.  And then my uneasy brain went looking for hallucination in the next most likely place.

Had I imagined it?  The other world, the demons, the Scourge, the fall of Orgrimmar…everything…could it have just been a dream?  It seemed so real, the memories were so vivid…but…

I stood up, gathered more of the papers from the table, and started paging through them — not even reading anything on them, really, just wanting something I could feel in my hands.  As I held the documents over the tabletop and looked at all the words without ever reading any of them, my arm brushed another paper, this one creased and folded, jutting out of my belt.

The military documents spilled around the floor as I grabbed the folded paper and rushed to unfold it.  It was worn and stained with what looked like blood, just a torn-off scrap, not even half a page.  Scrawled across it was the familiar handwriting of the Master Apothecary of Sylvanas’ Royal Society.  Or the man who would become him.

They’re going to turn against you.  Don’t let them.

He really, REALLY never listened.  It’s like some weird matter of principle with him.  I don’t even know if he was really trying to help, offering some begrudging, misguided gesture in parting…or if this was his way of giving me one last middle finger for the things I’d forced him to do.  I don’t know if I could hold either against him.

But that sealed it.  It all happened.  Except that it didn’t, now.

It worked.  We did it.  We saved the world.  It all happened, just the way I remembered it, just the way it was supposed to.

I walked over to the tower window.  I needed some air to clear my head.  I leaned out and looked across the Barrens.  I could see Horde banners below, and a squad of Kor’kron wyvern riders circling past as they patrolled the area.  And as I looked off into the distance, staring at the horizon more than anything, I started to make out wisps of smoke, faint black tendrils reaching up to the sky from old, spiteful fires that refused to go out completely, even after all this time.

Taurajo.

I turned from the window and stepped back into the room.

And then I grabbed one of the chairs arranged around the table and threw it against the wall.  The chair broke into pieces.  I ran over and grabbed them up, one after another, breaking them into smaller pieces and smashing them against the wall again.  And then a second chair.  And a third.  Screaming with each one — AT each one.

I threw them around the room until the chairs were pieces and the pieces were splinters, smashing them against the walls and the floor and each other as if by breaking them enough I could force back the thoughts I couldn’t help thinking.

I ran across the room to a bookcase that stood against one wall and sent it toppling.  Books spilled around the floor.  I lunged down, hunched over, grabbed them by the fistful and hurled them against the walls.  Watched them clatter back to the floor.  It didn’t help.  I grabbed up more of them, pulling them open, ripping them apart at the spines, flinging loose pages around until they fluttered uselessly down around me.

Fluttered like shimmering white wings.

I pounced back on the broken bookcase, yanked out one shelf, flung it across the room.  It clattered to the floor.  It didn’t break.  I wrenched out a second shelf and threw it against the door, leaving a deep gash in the wood.  That one didn’t break, either.  Somehow that only made me angrier, sent me into a rage at its stubbornness, its stupid defiance, refusing to snap.  How DARE it — how dare ANYTHING — and I ran to the door, grabbed up the fallen shelf, and beat it against the wall until it splintered.

It didn’t help.  It wasn’t enough.

The door to the room opened and Malkorok leaned in.  I only heard bits and pieces of whatever he said — something about the noise, and my yelling, and if I was all right.  I spun on him, struck him across the face, then threw him back out of the room and down the stairs before slamming the door, rattling it on its hinges.

Today is not the day to ask me if I’m all right.

I grabbed one of the broken chair pieces and jammed the door shut.  I wasn’t in any mood for interruptions, least of all from the likes of him.

The admiral’s bed — flung over, frame snapped, mattress torn open.  Feathers floating through the air and scattering around the room.  The nightstand next to the bed — lifted over my head and slammed down onto the floor, shattered awkwardly into pieces.  Its single drawer split off awkwardly and spilled letters and trinkets across the floor.  Part of it splintered off as I swung the nightstand down onto the floor and stabbed into my forearm.  I barely felt it.  I didn’t even notice until a spattering of blood started to dribble onto the letters and papers strewn around the floor.

It still wasn’t enough.  It might never be enough.

Go be a hero, he told me.  Go save the world.  I did.  We won.  And all I had to do was kill him.  All I had to do was burn Taurajo.  All I had to do was become the final secret conspirator against our people in time of war, once upon a time.  All I had to do was save traitors, destroy families, forsake all honor in the face of a battle too dire to be won by any other means.

I don’t know how long I can stand to live in this world if these are the choices I have to make to save it.

I was racing around the room in circles, kicking at anything in reach, clawing pictures down off the walls.  Only really half seeing what was around me, just grabbing anything I could, then throwing it or stomping it underfoot or breaking it over one knee.  At some point I found myself spinning in place, roaring madly at nothing, and then threw myself at the table, beating it with both fists, pounding over and over until the wood buckled and the beams split and it all came crashing down and still there I was among the pieces on the floor.

I pulled myself up and looked around the ruins of the room, choking down air in gasps.

This room isn’t big enough.  It isn’t big enough.  Nothing in it is big enough.

I need something bigger.

We march tomorrow.  Theramore burns.

 

 

[Wrathgate (wide shot) image provided by Angelya from Revive and RejuvenateProfessor Putricide, Putress, and Cairne Bloodhoof (living) images provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click the links in this sentence to see the souped-up Postcard versions!  All images used here with permission and many thanks.]

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