Archive for warlocks

Desperate Times

Posted in Words from a Scribe with tags , , , , , , , , on February 6, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream

orgrimmar11

Neeru Fireblade may very well have been right about the Council of the Black Harvest not being willing to talk to me, but for now that’s going to need to be a “cross that bridge when I come to it” concern.  For now, the much bigger problem is going to be finding them.  My best in is probably going to be Ritssyn, given his Orgrimmar ties, but he’s still far from a sure thing, and even that’s assuming I can track him down.  He was supposedly on his way to the Firelands, but that’s not exactly a place to go take a casual stroll alone without really knowing what you’re getting into, especially if you’re like me and your command of the elements leaves a lot to be desired in the first place.

So, I’m going to need to take the indirect approach to this.  I have Ji out helping me with part of it; this morning he left to do some investigating for me in Desolace.  Meanwhile, I just came from a private meeting with Eitrigg.  At least I think it was private.  I didn’t notice any stealthy whooshy sounds while I was there, but who knows?

I gathered from Eitrigg that Garrosh isn’t exactly thrilled with what he’s been hearing about me – no shock there – but he hasn’t sent along any specific orders where I’m concerned yet.  Considering that he’s known me for several years now, Eitrigg’s willing to give me the benefit of the doubt for the time being, although even he expressed concern about whether I’m sure I know what I’m doing.  The truth of the matter is, the last thing in the world that I am right now is sure, but circumstances aren’t affording me a luxury of options.

Still, without showing too much of my hand, I managed to persuade him to let me borrow one of the sets of diplomatic tabards and banners that we issues to the emissaries we send various places.  While I have those colors displayed – and remain visibly unarmed – I’ll be allowed free passage into nearly any territory, including within Alliance borders.

I’m about to take a trip to Ironforge.

Right now, I can’t really go into more detail than that.  Ultimately, if things work out the way I hope they will, you’ll understand why.  Still, I know I’m taking a considerable risk here, but it’s a necessary one.  If I don’t have this all resolved and accounted for by the time Garrosh gets back from Pandaria, he’s more likely to have my head on a platter than anything else; and if these spectral assassins keep coming after me, I’m just as dead.  Even with Garona watching over me – which I’m sure she won’t keep doing forever – it’s just a matter of time before the assassins start coming often enough and in great enough numbers that they’ll finish me off before anyone can do anything about it.

I’ll be leaving soon to meet Deliana in Ratchet, and from there on to the Eastern Kingdoms.  It’s probably going to be a few days at the very least before I have the chance up write anything here.  If you have any extra fingers, cross them.

 

Mokvar

Demon’s Bargain

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

cleft

After the dead end in Winterspring, I mentioned that I still had one more possible stone to turn over.  It’s not one I particularly wanted to turn over, considering who I’d be finding under it, but at this point I don’t really have the luxury of wasting time and hoping something else falls into my lap.  So yesterday, I took a walk down to the Cleft of Shadow to have a talk with Neeru Fireblade.

I had known Neeru a little when I had first started training as a warlock, but since moving to Orgrimmar and changing to shamanism, I hadn’t had contact with him beyond occasionally passing on the street.  I’d always avoided the Cleft of Shadow; after Thrall gave me sanctuary in Orgrimmar, the last thing I wanted was to be caught anywhere near the fel magic of the warlocks.  Now, after years of avoiding the place, I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy just from purple light that illuminated the cavern as I made my way down.

 

Neeru Fireblade channels a spell while Mokvar approaches.

MOKVAR:  Neeru.

NEERU:  <looking at Mokvar over his shoulder>  Mokvar.  Just a moment.

Neeru finishes channeling.  Small flames burst from a large windroc carcass that sits on a nearby table, then flicker out after a moment.  Neeru turns to Mokvar and points to the sizzling fowl with a smirk.

Undercooked.

MOKVAR:  What do you do if it needs salt?

NEERU:  Count myself lucky that I didn’t make a larger mess of the preparation than that.  I’m hardly a chef.

Neeru sits down at the table.

I hope you don’t mind if I go ahead with dinner.

He gestures to a second chair across from him; Mokvar sits.

It’s been a long time, Mokvar.  In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you venture down this way.  What brings you to the land invocations and mediocre cuisine?

MOKVAR:  I’m looking for information, and I think you may be on the short list of people who might have it.

NEERU:  <gnawing on a leg from the roasted windroc>  I’m hardly a person in the know these days, but ask away.

MOKVAR:  The Nether Prism.

Neeru pulls the drumstick away from his face slowly and looks up.

NEERUWell now.  What have you gotten yourself into, Mokvar?

MOKVAR:  More a matter of what I’m trying to get myself out of.

NEERU:  All the more interesting, then.  I haven’t heard talk of that particular bauble in an age.

MOKVAR:  I wish I could say the same.

NEERU:  <eyes Mokvar closely>  The last I heard of the Prism, it was in the hands – or claws, I suppose – of that drakonid Valthalak.

MOKVAR:  That was years ago.  After that, it made its was to an imp named Vi’el, in Darkwhisper Gorge.

NEERU:  If you’re interested in the Prism, why don’t you go seek out the imp, then?

MOKVAR:  I did.  He’s dead.  What became of the Prism from that point is anyone’s guess.

NEERU:  Really now.  And how did you happen to know about this imp in the first place?

MOKVAR:  Let’s just say it took a roundabout path getting from Blackrock Spire to the imp.

Neeru leans back in his seat and folds his arms.

NEERU:  You?  You mean to tell me, Mokvar, that a relic as potent as the Nether Prism managed to change hands from Gul’dan all the way down to the likes of you?

MOKVAR:  When you’re starting with Gul’dan, I don’t know if “down” is the right word.

NEERU:  <chuckling and picking up the windroc leg again>  Well well, Mokvar…you say you came to me for information, but it seems I’m learning a fair bit more from you.

MOKVAR:  I think you know more than you let on.

Mokvar leans forward and drums his fingers on the table.

Then again, so do I.

Mokvar glances around at the other warlocks practicing invocations.

How many of them will it take?

NEERU:  <mouth half full of windroc meat>  Take?  For what?

Mokvar leans closer to the table.

MOKVAR:  To channel your targeting beacon for the demons.

Neeru drops the windroc leg on his plate and looks up.

How many warlocks?  How many of your collagues…in the Burning Blade?

NEERU:  The Burning Blade died with the last vestiges of the old Horde.  Anyone will tell you I cut my ties with them when I pledged my loyalties to Thrall.

MOKVAR:  <nods>  Of course.

Neeru starts to reach for his food again.

Are you waiting for a signal from any agent of the Legion, or are you on hold for Malchezaar specifically?  You might be waiting a while if it’s the second one.

NEERU:  I don’t know where you’re getting these fairy tales, Mokvar, but—

MOKVAR:  You know, it’s a funny thing.  Grom Hellscream died slaying Mannoroth and freeing our people.  Now his son walks around wearing the demon’s tusks, and sits on a throne carved out of its skull.  It would be a shame if the Warchief got the notion that someone in Orgrimmar was still cooking up something with the Legion.

NEERU:  <waving toward Ragefire Chasm>  If you really think Garrosh is above cutting ethical corners for the sake of—

MOKVAR:  If you’d like to roll the dice on how Garrosh would react, be my guest.  It’s not my neck at stake.

Neeru stares down at his food.

NEERU:  I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t know what’s become of the Nether Prism.

MOKVAR:  But?

NEERU:  But if I were to hazard a guess as to where it might have gone…after the imp…  <glances around furtively>  There have been…rumblings among the warlocks since the fall of Deathwing.  It started when the human Kanrethad reconvened his circle of fel masters, the same ones who had worked to expand the powers of the warlocks before the Cataclysm.

MOKVAR:  I’d heard about that much – the Council of the Black Harvest, isn’t it?

NEERU:  <nods>  Our own Ritssyn from here in Orgrimmar was among them.

MOKVAR:  What are they doing?

NEERU:  Running around on fool’s errands all over the world – and beyond – to seek out even greater sources of power for themselves.  That Kanrethad thinks he can build a coven of the mightiest warlocks in existence and position himself at its head.

MOKVAR:  You don’t think they’ll be able to do it?

NEERU:  I think that when you set out with a plan of “Let’s go make ourselves more powerful than anyone ever,” you find either disaster or a far heftier price than you’d counted on.

Mokvar nods.

Nevertheless.  If the Black Harvest are trying to consolidate their power, I’d hazard a guess that the Nether Prism would be just the sort of item that would interest them.

MOKVAR:  Do you know what’s become of Ritssyn?

NEERU:  I believe he and one of the others made their way off to the Firelands.  For all the good that will do you.

MOKVAR:  What’s that supposed to mean?

NEERU:  Mokvar, don’t you be a fool too.  You can’t seriously expect that the Black Harvest would talk to you.

MOKVAR:  I think I’ve already shown I can be pretty persuasive.

NEERU:  <chuckles>  Mokvar, don’t be naïve.  You’re hardly one of the movers and shakers of the world, I’ll grant, but surely you can’t believe that you’re not noticed.  Standing for all those years in Thrall’s council room.  Attending advisors’ meetings with the leaders of the Horde.  Hellscream’s personal scribe.  Never mind the fact that they’ll know you were a warlock yourself once before you decided you didn’t want to dirty your hands with the fel arts any longer.  Do you really think they’ll be willing to tell you anything?

MOKVAR:  I guess I’ll have to figure out a way to be very persuasive.

NEERU:  Assuming you can ever find them.

MOKVAR:  We’ll see.  <getting up>  Anyway, I suppose I got what I came for, or as close to it as I’m going to.  Enjoy your dinner, Neeru.

Mokvar turns to walk away.

NEERU:  Mokvar.

Mokvar stops and looks back.

How did you know?

MOKVAR:  How did I know what?

NEERU:  Don’t play games with me.  You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.

Mokvar grins.

MOKVAR:  Let’s just say I get around.

 

I left Neeru and made my way out of the Cleft of Shadow, mostly preoccupied with how I was going to track down the Council of the Black Harvest.  I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the light go dimmer than it should have as I went up the last bend of the cavern.  That’s when two spectral assassins appeared out of nowhere and attacked me.

I fought them off as best I could for a minute, but my shocks and chain lightnings aren’t nearly as potent as a shaman who’s been training at it his whole life.  They were quickly gaining the upper hand when Garona unstealthed behind them and had at both of them with a flurry of blades that was faster than my eyes could follow.  It bears noting, by the way: Garona’s no joke in combat.  I hadn’t really noticed before.  Those spectral assassins dropped fast.  While she resheathed her weapons, I tried to come up with something to say without much success.

 

MOKVAR:  Garona…I…

GARONA:  Garrosh knows what you’re doing.  I hope you do, too.

MOKVAR:  Then why…?

GARONA:  Before he left for Pandaria, he asked me to look out for you.  Until he tells me otherwise, that’s what I’m going to do.

MOKVAR:  Well…thanks…

GARONA:  Don’t.  You know that if he tells me kill you, I’ll have to.

Mokvar nods and starts to turn to go.

Don’t give him a reason to.

Garona stealths.

 

I think it’s safe to assume that pretty soon Garrosh will be getting a letter informing him that I went to see Neeru Fireblade.  I don’t figure that’s going to do a whole lot to improve his mood any.  Still, he’s having Garona go on protecting me, for now at least.  And with these two assassins down, chances are I’ve got a couple days before I have to worry about the next wave coming for me.

Still, I don’t have the luxury of a lot of time.  I have a new lead to follow, and it needs to lead somewhere quickly.

 

Mokvar

 

 

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

The last Warchief

Posted in General, Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 8, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

Dranosh kept staring down at the ruins of Orgrimmar as we circled high above the city.  We were too far to hear anything other than the faintest sounds of the demons and undead, but the fires were unmistakable even from here.

I finally went over and stood next to him.  He didn’t look away from the sight below.  We stood there in silence for a few minutes.

 

DRANOSH:  Do you remember the first time you saw Orgrimmar?

GARROSH:  <nods>  Thrall brought me, not that long after he came to Garadar.

DRANOSH:  My father took me.  He was so excited to show me the new home the orcs had built.  So proud to introduce me around – every grunt, every merchant, everyone.  I remember thinking how every last person in the city seemed to know him.

GARROSH:  Well, he IS Saurfang.

DRANOSH:  <nods, then pauses>  Maybe Thrall should have chosen him.  Or Cairne.  Or…Vol’jin.  <shrugs>  Or you, for that matter.

GARROSH:  I thought you said I’d be terrible at it.

DRANOSH:  Have you looked down there?  At what I’ve led us to?  I don’t think you would have done much worse.

GARROSH:  <staring down>  This…this wasn’t your fault.  You’ve been a good Warchief.

DRANOSH:  Then why am I in danger of becoming the last one?

 

Remember when I said this timeline was the better one?  Well, as long as time is getting screwed with anyway, let’s go back and erase that I’d ever said that.  Orgrimmar was bad enough…but now Dranosh…

At least the Wrathgate killed him quickly.  Not one little piece at a time.

We stood there silently for I’m not sure how long, until Dranosh finally turned around and gave Drok the order to set us on our way to Theramore.  As we started to pull away, Dranosh took one more look down at the burning shell of Orgrimmar.

 

DRANOSH:  I still don’t understand how this happened…

MOKVAR:  Warchief?  I think I might have at least a few answers for us…

Mokvar pulls a frog from until his cloak and dangles it by one leg.

GARROSH:  Is that…?

MOKVARNeeru Fireblade.  I’ve been keeping him hexed.  I figure he may be able to fill in a few gaps if we want to pop him.

DRANOSH:  Is this the one who did this?

GARROSH:  Not alone.  But he was the ringleader of those warlocks in the Cleft of Shadow, anyway…

DRANOSH:  <visibly fuming>  Oh… Oh, bring him out.  I want to talk to this one…

Mokvar nods and drops the frog on the deck, then zaps it with a frost shock to break the hex.  Before Neeru Fireblade can react in his restored orc form, Dranosh grabs him by his robes and shoves him back against the railing.

DRANOSH:  Oh hello, Neeru, so glad you made it out in one piece…

Neeru struggles against Dranosh’s grip, but Dranosh only shoves him back harder.

It would have been such a shame if you’d gotten yourself killed back there and cost me the chance to do the honors myself.

Neeru looks around at the gunship, then grins and chuckles cruelly.

NEERU:  Based on our surroundings, I assume the day goes badly, eh, Warchief?

GARROSH:  Not nearly as badly as it’s about to go for you if you don’t talk.

DRANOSH:  I’ve got a lot of questions, Neeru, but here’s the main one – why?

NEERU:  <laughing>  Why?  Why would I work against my enemy?  Are you really that naïve, boy?

DRANOSH:  How is the Horde your enemy?  You’ve been a citizen of Orgrimmar for years!

NEERU:  And a warlock of the Burning Blade for longer!  That shaman who came before you wanted to believe so badly that some of us might yet be redeemed that he gave us haven in his precious capital.  Even when his agents told him my loyalties might be…conflicted…the trusting fool still left me there in my tent to go about my business unimpeded.

GARROSH:  Wow, seriously?

MOKVAR:  You didn’t know about this?

GARROSH:  Would have been nice if he’d left me a fucking note about it or something…

NEERU:  <chuckling>  Allegiance to the Shadow Council is not foresworn so readily.

DRANOSH:  So you’ve been sitting there all these years plotting this?

NEERU:  This specifically?  No, no, boy.  Simply…watching for moments of opportunity.  And the Scourge attack on Orgrimmar proved a superb one.

GARROSH:  While we were busy watching the rear gate, there was nobody to keep an eye on you bastards in the Cleft.

DRANOSH:  Is that what the demons were doing in the Deadwind Pass?  Gathering for your go-ahead?

NEERU:  Our go-ahead, and more importantly our beacon to target their portal.  The Legion also happened to have, in the Deadwind Pass, some ideal resources for a surprise attack such as this.

GARROSH:  Malchezaar, in Karazhan.

NEERU:  Holder of one of the most powerful sources of portal magic in this world – the Book of Medivh.

DRANOSH:  Hold on – I’ve heard of Malchezaar, but I thought he was dead.

MOKVAR:  He was.

GARROSHRepeatedly.

MOKVAR:  Didn’t take.

DRANOSH:  Excuse me?

NEERU:  <chuckling>  Your mind is so comically linear.

GARROSH:  Malchezaar hung out in the highest level of Karazhan, where it pokes through into this whole other dimension.

MOKVAR:  Netherspace.

GARROSH:  Time doesn’t work the same way up there…it’s like it’s locked in this infinite loop.  So people went up there and killed him, yeah, and then a few days later the loop would reset, and he’d be there alive again.

MOKVAR:  And then someone else would kill him, and in a few days the loop would reset again.

GARROSH:  On and on endlessly.

DRANOSH:  And he just stayed there to die over and over?  Why would anyone do that?  Why wouldn’t he just leave?

NEERU:  Because so long as he was there, he could never truly die, you fool.  No matter how many deaths he might endure – hundreds, perhaps – the Netherspace would always restore him.  The perfect hiding place for the Legion to stash away a key weapon for safekeeping, until the time would come that he would be needed.

DRANOSH:  So today the demons cracked Malchezaar out of storage to bring them here…

NEERU:  <smirks at Garrosh and chuckles>  I wish you could have seen the look on your face when—

DRANOSH:  <shaking Neeru violently>  I would be a little more worried about the look on you face when I cut off your head and stick it on a pike, Fireblade!

NEERU:  Do you wish to, Warchief?  Then by all means.  I had no delusions that I would escape this endeavor alive.  But I believe.  Don’t you see?  It doesn’t matter if you kill me.  I’ve lived long enough to see Orgrimmar burn.

Dranosh loosens his grip on Neeru and stares over the warlock’s shoulder at Orgrimmar.

DRANOSH:  You’re forgetting something, Neeru.

Neeru arches an eyebrow quizzically.

Orgrimmar is behind you.

Dranosh draws his sword and runs it through Neeru.

You haven’t seen anything.

Neeru seizes up, then goes limp on the sword.  Dranosh extends his blade over the deck railing, then shakes off the body, letting it plummet to the rocks below.

GARROSH:  <spitting over the side>  Dismissed.

Dranosh stands at the railing, looking down, then looks back at Orgrimmar.

DRANOSH:  I should have caught what they were doing.  This should never have happened.

Garrosh stands next to Dranosh.

GARROSH:  You’re part right.  This shouldn’t ever have happened.  <looks at Mokvar, then back>  What if we could fix it?

DRANOSH:  Yeah, sure, we’ll just rewind time and take it all back.

MOKVAR:  Not exactly.

GARROSH:  Look…what I have in mind isn’t a sure thing by any means, and I’m not even sure exactly how to do it myself.  But I think I can find out.  And if it works…well, things won’t be perfect.  Like, at all.  But the demons won’t be running roughshod over the world, and the Scourge will be under control.

DRANOSH:  Sounds pretty perfect to me.  You sure you haven’t been dipping into the felweed again?

GARROSH:  I’m serious.  It won’t be easy, even if we can do it at all.  And…I don’t know if we’ll all make it through alive.  In fact…I’m pretty sure we won’t.

DRANOSH:  But Orgrimmar, our people – they do?

GARROSH:  I think so, yeah.  If what I’m thinking works.

DRANOSH:  <nods slowly>  If that ends up being the cost… A mediocre Warchief is a small price to pay for the survival of the Horde, don’t you think?

GARROSH:  I don’t know.  I’ve only seen great ones.

DRANOSH:  What do we do?

GARROSH:  First I need information.  <thinks for a minute>  And before we get too far along to Theramore, I need to make a quick side a trip to Ashenvale.

DRANOSH:  What’s in Ashenvale?

GARROSH:  An old friend.

 

Oh yeah. Shit just got real.

The Apothecarium

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 8, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

apothecarium

While Drok was making his way down to Southshore, Mokvar, Nazgrim, and I got the grand tour of the Apothecarium from Sylvanas and Faranell.  Overseer Kraggosh was there as well, finishing up his lunch break.  Basically a working lunch where he just camped out on one of the work benches, since he couldn’t really spare any extra people to stand watch in his absence, what with everything going on.  Gotta say, watching him munch away left me kind of boggled, because first of all, as bad as the Undercity smells in general, the APOTHECARIUM?  Where they keep all the extra toxic chemicals and plaguey shit?  Rancid stench squared.  So how he could possibly choke food down and keep it down is beyond me.  And second of all?  His lunch of choice?  Steak melt with three kinds of cheese and extra bacon.  Kraggosh, Kraggosh, you seriously don’t want to live to see your daughter start school, do you?  Come on, man.

The apothecaries looked to be carrying on their research as usual in the main chamber, but they’d set up a side room – the one they usually used to hold, ahem, Alliance test volunteers – as an area to work on bodies that had been affected by the anti-plague.  Some mages were channeling a containment field to make sure nothing spread out of the room, and Dr. Halsey and Apothecary Zinge from the Royal Apothecary Society were inside decked out in those weird full-body gas mask hazard suits the Forsaken have.

Further updates from Faranell’s research:  Whatever this thing is, it only seems to have any effect on undead.  They ran tests exposing some of the Alliance prisoners to it, and it doesn’t seem to do anything to humans, dwarves, or even worgen.  Just registered a big ol’ nothing.  What’s more, even though the effect spreads very easily if other Forsaken get close to an affected body, every test they’ve run here indicates it’s not chemical or biological in nature.  So even though we’ve been talking about it being “contagious,” that’s not really accurate.  Hell, on that basis, I probably shouldn’t keep calling it an “anti-plague,” seeing as it’s not really a plague at all, except that you pretty much don’t get any more “ANTI” anything than not being that thing at all, so I guess as it turns out, the “anti-plague” name is pretty damn accurate, so take THAT and FUCK OFF, smart guy.  Plus “anti-plague” sounds a lot cooler than “that weird shit what’s happening to the zombies.”

Anyway, though, it’s not biological or chemical in nature – it’s some kind of self-propagating magical effect.  So we’ve also gotten a few warlocks down here to help with the research as well – orcs and blood elves, since we don’t have to worry about them being exposed.  Best they can tell, it’s a strange balance of shadow and holy magic, held in some kind of…I don’t know…something about a matrix and counterbalances and some fucking…polarity of the neutron flow or some shit.  Point is, it seems to have reacted to the traces of shadow magic that woven into the Forsaken plague – the part of the plague that makes its victims rise as undead afterward – and generated this effect that causes that same shadow magic to be purged off anything it hits.  So the necrotic effects that make undead undead get dispelled right off.  Which is way beyond anything even a top-flight priest or paladin could do.

Whatever it is, exactly, it all got started when Sylvanas’ people were working on their green goop down in Southshore, so I’m thinking if we’re going to get any answers, it’s time for a bunch of us still-living peeps to take a trip down there.

Seed of corruption

Posted in General with tags , , , , , on May 19, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

drazzilb2

I mentioned the other day that I’ve been talking to Draz’Zilb down in Brackenwall Village.  Granted, he can be creepy as hell sometimes, but dude knows how to get shit done, and he can be pretty damn handy as times as long as you don’t have to stay in the same room as him for too long.  I think this is one of those times.  He has something he’s been working on that might turn out to be pretty useful right now.

Odds are, most of you have heard of this spell that warlocks use called Seed of Corruption.  Basically it seeds a target with a kind of shadow detonation that hurts the original target and anyone else that’s nearby.  Warlocks that are really on top of their game can even cast the spell with an extra wrinkle, so that all those nearby targets caught in the detonation are afflicted with extra shadow damage that rots away at them over time.

Draz’Zilb tells me he’s worked up a way to take this to the nth degree.  He believes he’s augmented the spell so that after that initial detonation, those surrounding targets that are afflicted with the additional ticking corruption?  Well, after it finishes ticking, THEY detonate too.  So, bonus A, the damage from that additional detonation, combined with the initial kaboom and the ticking corruption, would be enough to kill anybody short of a no-kidding-around badass.  And more important, bonus B, it creates a potentially unlimited chain.

Think of it: Victim #1 takes the initial seed and goes boom, and the initial burst of damage also hits nearby Victims #2, 3, and 4.  Victims #2-4 get whittled down by the additional ticking corruption, then THEY all detonate as well with a second shadow burst.  And now…THAT explosion hits nearby Victims #5, 6, 7, 8, and 9.  Who also get afflicted with corruption and take a time-bomb seed of their own.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Keep repeating until there’s no one else around to spread the corruption chain to.

Obviously, if you don’t mind waiting a little, this makes for a potentially awesome one-step method for wiping out groups of enemies on a massive scale.  I’m looking right at you, Stormwind.

That’s assuming it works, of course.  First we have to test it out to make sure Draz’Zilb is right.  So we need to give it a test run in a somewhat controlled setting.  Then, it’s game on.

Locks in Socks

Posted in EPIC VERSE with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 19, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

warlocks

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

 

Locks
Socks
Docks
Brox

Brox on docks.

Locks in socks.

Brox on locks in socks on docks.

Socks on Brox and locks on docks.

Locks in socks on Brox on docks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m so sorry, Mr. Brox, sir.

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

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

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

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

“That’s not easy, Mr. Lock, sir.”

Who limps?
Imp limps.
Sly wimp imp limps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What do you know about squabblin’ goblins?  Well…

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

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

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

AND…

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

AND…

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

AND…

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

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

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

 

 

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

Mag’hari house guest

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 11, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

Sorry I haven’t been posting the last week.  I’ve been pretty busy here in Orgrimmar, and not even with anything big and momentous like wiping out the Alliance or even the aftermath of Deathwing biting it.  This past week my Greatmother has been visiting from Nagrand, so I was showing her around and just generally keeping her out of trouble.

As it turns out, just getting her out here was a big production all by itself.  I offered to send a mage to port her straight here, but oh no, no way, turns out apparently old people don’t trust mages and their new-fangled portals, no sir, so we had to arrange to get her out to the Dark Portal to come through that way.  By the way, funny how she didn’t want to take a mage portal because those things are dangerous and unreliable, and yet she was totally okay taking the DARK PORTAL which by the way HAS “PORTAL” RIGHT IN ITS NAME TOO, only with dragon heads carved around it and warlocky fel magic buzzing all over it because we all know NOTHING ever went wrong with THAT.

So anyway, we finally got her out to the Dark Portal and through to the Blasted Lands, and then over to Grom’gol to catch the zeppelin up to Orgrimmar.  On the way I hear tell she promised home-knit sweaters to a couple of the Grom’grol guards and one of the goblins on the zeppelin, because, you know, you really need a sweater when it starts getting nippy out there in the tropical jungle.  I bet most of the problems the Darkspear ended up having in Stranglethorn could have been cleared right up if someone had through to crank out a few cardigans.

So we finally got her up here to Orgrimmar, and I have to admit, I was kind of hoping that she would be at least a LITTLE impressed with the place, or with me being Warchief, but oh no.  First thing she comments on is how we’re still under construction even with the Cataclysm happening however many months ago, and how it wasn’t even that big of a cataclysm, not like in her day when Draenor literally got ripped into pieces, and us young ’uns have it so easy thinking a few earthquakes and some tidal waves count as a capital-C definite-article The Cataclysm – and meanwhile they had their settlements rebuilt in a few weeks.  Which, everything else aside, yeah, like I needed another reminder of how those goblins are seriously taking their damn time on the construction work.

Oh wait, hold on, let me correct that.  That wasn’t the first thing she commented on.  No, the FIRST thing she commented on was the ritual tattoos I’ve gotten since the last time she saw me, like “Oh, is this what you kids are doing nowadays?  All these young people running around with their tattoos, calling them ‘ritual’ and acting like that means they’re in touch with the ancestors.  I know my ancestors knew the actual rituals.  You know they’re only going to stretch and sag as you get older, don’t you?  Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”  Oh and then there were the pieces of Mannoroth’s tusks that I wear on my shoulders – “You wear those to work?  For important meetings and everything?”  And when I pointed out how they’re from Mannoroth, who killed my FATHER, and how I’d used parts of the pit lord’s remains to fashion the shoulders and my throne in Grommash Hold, all I got for that was “You don’t think that’s a little tacky?”

Also, as if all that wasn’t fun enough, for the first two days pretty much all I heard about was Thrall and how proud she is of him for saving the world from Deathwing and how great it is that he and Aggra are having a baby and by the way WHEN THE HELL WAS THRALL GOING TO TELL ME ABOUT THAT?!  First the wedding and now this, the FUCK, man?  And anyway, that was all kinds of fun, being reminded on and on about how awesome Thrall is, and how happy she is that she’s finally going to have great-grandchildren.  And then she made some mention about how apparently Kilrath has a daughter around my age that she wants me to meet, and yeah that was all kinds of awkward.  Ugh.

Over the next few days a bunch of the other Horde leaders came by to meet her and pay their respects, which I’ll admit was pretty cool of them, and she seemed to like Baine especially, gave him the whole “nice young man” deal that old ladies love to throw around.  And everyone was nice to her, don’t get me wrong, but like…I mean, I know I can get cranky sometimes, but I really try to watch my mouth around Greatmother.  Not least of all because if she catches me swearing she used to give me a good hard yank by my ponytail, which was one of the main reasons I cut it off eventually, but I’m also not in much of a hurry to find out what she would come up with for Plan B now that it’s gone.  So anyway, I try to rein it in when I’m around her, but I swear the other leaders were making a point of giving me bad news in front of her and just generally saying things to see if they could set me off.  Vol’jin especially.  Meanwhile Greatmother just seemed to get a kick out of everyone.  I don’t think she’s really clear on what the Forsaken actually are, though, what with her calling Sylvanas “that nice elf girl” that seems like she could use some sun.  (More like she could use some SunWELL, am I right?  OH YEAH I WENT THERE.)  I’m thinking it’s just as well that I don’t clear that one up for her.

Anyway, that’s a sampling of my week, and I’m sure I’ll roll out a few more stories about it if you want to hear, maybe toss a few quotable quotes in the Twitter feed or something (#shitmygreatmothersays maybe).  For right now, though, she just left to head back to Nagrand, so if you’ll excuse me, I have a tavern to go visit.

 

 

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

Monday, so I am told, Mailbag

Posted in From the Desk of Saurfang, Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 30, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

mail11

Citizens of the Horde,

I am an orc of my word; some days ago I invited you to write to me with your thoughts and inquiries, and promised I would answer them as is customary in this space.  Today I fulfill that promise.

I write to you from our outpost in Silithus, as I prepare to begin our movement into Ahn’Qiraj.  Perhaps this exercise will be helpful in clearing my thoughts before the coming battle.  Let us begin.

 

Dear Overlord Saurfang,

Have you read any good books lately?

–Tarrful, Orgrimmar

Sadly, my hectic schedule as acting Warchief does not allow me the leisure time to pursue recreational reading.  Fortunately, I do make a point of conducting regular briefing sessions to ensure I am kept abreast of important and relevant information, to ensure that the absence of reading time has not caused me to miss something of import.

[Saurfang doesn’t read books.  He stares them down until they give him the information he wants. –Mkvr., ed.]

 

Warchief Saurfang:

Do you play Earth Online too?  If so, what server are you on?  What class do you play?

–Kalaban, Undercity

I’m afraid I don’t know what this “Earth Online” is that you speak of.  By context, I would surmise it is some sort of diversion or recreational activity involving the internet.  Sadly, my schedule already calls for me to spend too much time safeguarding the future of the Horde and saving the world from annihilation for me to invest much leisure time in such matters.  Also, I am an adult.

 

Hey Saurfang,

If Thrall and Garrosh ever finished that duel they started back before the Northrend campaign, who do you think would win?

–Kulkesh, Razor Hill

I could not even venture a guess as to the outcome of a battle between two such mighty combatants; and moreover, I can only hope that such a wasteful conflict might never occur.

[If Thrall ever dueled Garrosh to completion, the winner would be Saurfang. –Mkvr., ed.]

I must say, I was expecting these inquiries to revolve around matters of greater weight and import.  Nevertheless, we carry on.

 

Acting Warchief Saurfang,

When the orcs began dabbling in necromancy, did you ever consider becoming a Warlock?  I know you’re a pretty badass Warrior and all, but did you ever think it might be fun to have demon minions and dot people up?

–Davan Shadowspring, Silvermoon City

There was never a point when I was tempted to indulge in the fel magics of the warlocks.  Indeed, I suspected even then that no good would come of my people’s dabbling in shadow magic.  Moreover, I fail even to see the appeal of such practices; I find it much more honorable and rewarding to confront my enemy face-to-face in combat and best him hand-to-hand, rather than standing at a distance and resorting to trickery.  There is a certain gravity and satisfaction to be found in feeling the weight and heft of a solid, reliable blade in one’s hands.  And besides, I can assure you, if one is sufficiently proficient in the martial arts, one does not need a precarious spell to make one’s foes flee in fear.

[Damn, Saurfang almost beat me to the punch on this one: Every time a warlock makes someone run away in fear, he pays a royalty to Saurfang.  –Mkvr., ed.]

 

Warchief Saurfang:

I’m glad to see someone in charge again in Orgrimmar who’s at least somewhat respectable.  I would wish you well in your efforts, except that in this case that would probably entail you actually finding Garrosh, and honestly that would end up leading to more trouble than it would be worth.  So, here’s wishing you a mixed bag that keeps you in your current position for a while.

–King Varian Wrynn, Stormwind

P.S.  Sorry to hear your men were stuck in those underground tunnels on Alcaz Island.  Those things are creepy as hell.  For years, I had these bizarre recurring nightmares that I was stuck down there, and barely even knew myself.  Freaky stuff…

Image

While I remain thankful to you, King Varian, for the kindness you showed me in light of the loss of my son, I nevertheless cannot let such denigrations against our Warchief go unanswered.  I may remind you, however much good will may exist between you and I personally, I am first and foremost unwaveringly loyal to the Horde, and Warchief Hellscream is its rightful leader.  I am myself, indeed, merely a part of which the Horde is a larger whole; and you may no more speak ill of our leader with impunity from me than you might strike one’s face and not expect the hand to respond in kind.  And so, as Warchief Hellscream might comment in his own inimitable manner, I would take this occasion to invite you, King Varian, to engage in an act of self-copulation.

 

Hey mon,

If da Lich King’s horse be Invincible, how come I be seein’ it?

–Bob, Echo Isles

Vol’jin, I don’t know what it is that you’re trying to accomplish, or why you’ve chosen to adopt this puerile façade, but I would ask of you, please, recall your station.  We are leaders of the Horde, and as such it is incumbent upon us to conduct ourselves with a modicum of maturity.

 

Dear Saurfang,

I know the Dragon Aspects have a lot on their plate these days, but considering the interest they have in Twilight’s Hammer activities, and the resources and information they have access to, have you considered reaching out to them for support in the search for Garrosh?  Maybe have Thrall speak to them on your behalf?

–Zhurzigg, Orgrimmar

While it would indeed pain me to impose upon the hectic schedule of the Aspects, my time in Northrend did afford me the opportunity to develop a certain rapport with the Wyrmrest Accord.  As a result, I was recently able to arrange a meeting with Nozdormu at the Caverns of Time.  My original intention was to travel to Tanaris on the way to Silithus, but initial preparations detained me in Orgrimmar unexpectedly; fortunately Nozdormu was most gracious over my tardiness (in retrospect, I wonder if he knew in advance that I would be late, all things considered), and welcomed me for our discussion nonetheless.

[Time waits for no man.  Unless that man is Saurfang. –Mkvr., ed.]

Sadly, Nozdormu was able to uncover no leads that might help us pinpoint the location of the Warchief.  His ability to delve into past events is, in fact, somewhat compromised by current activities of the Infinite Dragonflight, which is impeding the Aspects’ plan to retrieve the powerful Dragon Soul artifact from the past.

(As an aside, I must admit I would be tempted myself to volunteer for this mission, as it would entail the opportunity to witness first-hand some of the events of the War of the Ancients, in which my dear brother Broxigar had participated.)

[Contrary to popular belief, the Sundering did not happen because of the collapse of the Well of Eternity.  The landmasses of the world heard that Saurfang was at the Well, and so the continents split apart in different directions to try to get as far away as possible.  As it turns out, the Saurfang present at the Well was Broxigar, not Varok, but you can hardly blame the continents for erring on the side of safety. –Mkvr., ed.]

Nozdormu does still have the power to access the future, but this would appear to have limited usefulness for our purposes.  He did suggest at one point that he might move us forward in time to such a point as Warchief Hellscream has been recovered, and then acquire from our future selves the relevant information as to how and where.  This, however, struck me as a rather dubious solution; as I explained to the Aspect, in such a circular approach to problem-solving, the actual answers and information would not seem to actually come from anywhere, but rather be produced of whole cloth out of nothing.  Nozdormu’s only response was to roll his eyes and, waving a hand about, mutter “Wibbly wobbly, timey whimey.”

The ways of the Aspects truly are a mystery.

 

One final note in closing:  The one aspect of responding to your mail in this format that I do not particularly like is its relatively impersonal nature.  Indeed, I wish to apologize to those of you who have written to me directly for not having replied directly in kind.  When attempting to log into my “e-mail account,” the machine demanded I provide a password; apparently the device did not find the resulting cleave to be sufficient proof of my identity.

[When Saurfang…oh, wait, he’s already got this one covered.  Good deal, boss. –Mkvr., ed.]

By all means, continue to write to me, friends.  Honor go with us all.

 

-Saurfang

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 24, 2011 by Garrosh Hellscream

Hey guys, I just got in from EarthCon, which let me tell you was a blast.  They announced the next expansion, where they’re adding a new continent to the game, although there was a lot of nerdraging over it.  Turns out the new continent had been mentioned in the game before, but just as a running joke, so now some people are like, “Seriously? They’re actually going to do a whole expansion about Australians?”

I can’t say I totally disagree with them, to be honest.  I mean I love this game, but they showed some concept art for some of the new mobs there, one creature called a Platypus and one called a Wombat, and really, dude, they’re not even fucking trying anymore.  There was also one called a Kangaroo, and if nothing else I guess now we know what that murloc must have fucked to spawn the first gorloc.  So good job there I guess.

Anyway, I’m pretty wiped out so I’m just going to do a couple quick letters this week.

 

Dear Warchief,

You told my wife that “Hellscream’s eyes were upon her” and now she won’t…you know…with me.  Could you please tell her that you meant it metaphorically?  Thanks.

–Very Frustrated

Meta what?  Oh wait, you mean metamorphosis?  Because no, here’s the thing, yeah, the warlock I have assigned to your wife is demonology, but he doesn’t actually have to go into demon form to use his Eye of Kilrogg.  So I think you might be going for overkill there.

Still, sorry your wife is holding out on you these days.  Especially what with that thing she does with her tongue.

 

Hey mon,

Horde > Twilight’s Hammer!  Remember the Wrathgate!

–Bob, Echo Isles

Dude, seriously, you picked the wrong guy to try to slip a Wrathgate reference past.  You know I was actually in COMMAND up in Northrend for like two years, right?  And hate to break it to you, but we weren’t fighting the Twilight’s Hammer at the Wrathgate.  There were no Twilight’s Hammer anywhere NEARBY.  It was all Scourge and Alliance and that nutjob undead Putress group that tried to overthrow Sylvanas.

Look, I’m all for talking smack (by the by, fuck you, Varian), but if you’re going to trash talk over major events would it KILL you to do your fucking homework?

 

Hi Warchief,

I was just questing in the Barrens and something occurred to me.  Right now after years of adventuring I’m powerful enough that the enemies in the Barrens aren’t much of a threat, so I tear through them fast.  But that got me wondering, since the Horde obviously has lots of very powerful warriors, why don’t you just send some of them to the lower level zones to handle the problems there?  The quest givers in those areas act like the enemies are posing a threat but your garden variety soldier in Twilight Highlands could take them all on at once no problem.

–Malkar, Orgrimmar

First of all, nice job with the cool little AA internal rhyme scheme with your signature there, Malkar.

As for your question…I’m going to let you in on a little secret.  I didn’t even know about this myself until I became Warchief, although once I did find out, it made all kinds of sense.

Like you said, Malkar, if you’ve spent any time at all traveling around Horde territories, you’ve noticed that everywhere you go, it seems like there are Horde agents looking for help with all sorts of odds and ends.  Sometimes they need enemies slain.  Sometimes there’s an animal population that needs to be thinned out.  Sometimes there are supplies or resources to be gathered up.  Sometimes there’s a delivery that needs to be made.  And so on.  And so there’s always a demand for helpful citizens to step up and get the job done.

But…these odds jobs really don’t make a whole lot of sense.  Because you’re right, the baddies you’re getting called upon to fight really aren’t anything that couldn’t be handled easily enough by anyone who’s ever set foot in Northrend.  Or hey, let’s forget about the fighting, even.  That delivery you were just asked to make?  The package from Desolace that needed to be dropped off in Feralas?  Well…you know they DO have MAIL DELIVERY in Feralas, right?  Hold on, let me double check.

Yep.  Look at that.  They have mail delivery.  Oh wait, let’s be totally sure, do they have mailboxes in Desolace?

Well I’ll be damned, they do.  Which begs the question, WHY CAN’T THEY DROP THEIR DAMN PACKAGE IN THE FUCKING MAILBOX THAT’S TEN FUCKING FEET AWAY FROM THEM?

Erm, okay, I shouldn’t let that get me yelling since I already know the answer.

Here’s the thing.  If you go to a lot of Horde territories, you’ll find the place practically swarming with bunches of wannabe adventurers looking for ways to help.  And don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the thought, but like…they’re not very good.  Half the time they don’t know where they’re going even when they have a fucking map right in their pocket, and they don’t even know how to use the abilities they were just trained in an hour ago, and holy shit they die easy.  Like for instance, I know from Dark Cleric Cecille that a lot of aspiring Forsaken adventurers grew up in total dread of this one Son of Arugal who used to wander around in Silverpine Forest.  He’d lay waste to them.  People would yell out warnings like “OMG SON OF ARUGAL RUN!!” and need to round up two or three friends to even try to take him out.  A Son of fucking Arugal.  Do you know how easy it is to kill a Son of Arugal?  Every time I sneeze, I kill three of them, and I’m not even on the same fucking continent.  And these nubs are dying to one by the bushel.

And yet, these scrubs are hell-bent on helping the cause.  And they’re like ants.  There’s hundreds of them, everywhere, and no matter what you do, you can’t get rid of them.  And yet they’re running around trying to help, and biting off more than they can chew, and then we have to send people to go rescue them or at least collect their remains, or even if they don’t go get themselves in trouble they’re just hanging around distracting our more experienced soldiers from more important matters.

So way before I even showed up here, the higher-ups in the Horde worked out a way to deal with this.  They assigned people to all the Horde zones whose job was…basically…to come up with ways to keep these noobs busy.  Anything to keep them occupied.  Go kill some boars.  Deliver this package to the next town over.  See those shiny rocks just outside of town?  Go gather up about fifty for me.  See this guy standing right next to me?  Talk to him.  Tell him I said hi.  Let him know I sent you.  He’ll never see it coming.

Just play it up and make it sound important, they’ll feel like they’re contributing, they’ll stay out of trouble, and we’ll be fine.  And meanwhile we can maybe get a few odd jobs taken care of while we’re at it.  And maybe, every once in a while, we’ll uncover a diamond in the rough who’s actually up to the task for some missions we really need done.

 

That’s it for now.  As always, send your letters and questions to garrosh1337@gmail.com.  See you guys soon, I’m gonna crash.

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