Archive for September, 2012

It’s a celebration, bitches!

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , on September 30, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

We took our time marching back to Orgrimmar from the glowing crater that used to be Theramore.  Most of the way, Baine and Vol’jin sulked and moped like somebody had killed the family pet, but overall the troops were in good spirits, to say the least.  And then, when we finally approached Orgrimmar, morale took an even greater turn for the better.

Outside the city, people were gathered to greet us.  Hundreds – maybe thousands – of citizens of every race, gathered at the front gate and all across the Dranosh’ar Blockade, waving, cheering, crying out to us as we approached.  They were gathered so densely that we couldn’t even get in the gate when we finally reached it.  It was like the hero’s welcome we received on our victorious return from Northrend – only better.  More raucous.  More jubilant.  More hopeful for the glorious future for the Horde that we could all feel dawning.

The crowd chanted my name as I sat on my worg at the gate.  They wouldn’t stop until I finally called for them to listen while I told the tale of our triumph.  When I finished, they burst into another spontaneous chant: “Death to the Alliance!”

Music to my ears.  Almost enough to full the hollow ache that’s nagged at me since Northwatch.

On the way back to Orgrimmar, I sent orders to Captain Gharga and the fleet at Theramore for the next stage of our plan.  The fleet will spread around the continent and form a blockade around all remaining Alliance ports: Lor’danel, Feathermoon Stronghold, Rut’theran Village, Azuremyst Isle.  They’ll all be sealed off from outside support and then, one by one, we’ll move in and pick them apart, until finally, Kalimdor will belong to the Horde and the Horde alone.

But that will be a victory for the future.  The NEAR future, make no mistake, but the future nonetheless.  For today, we have another victory to celebrate.

I’ve ordered six days of festivities in Orgrimmar to commemorate what I know will prove to be the turning point in the history of the Horde.  All of our warriors are instructed to remain in Durotar for the length of the celebration, and I’ll be issuing individual summons for all those I’ll be expecting to stay in Orgrimmar proper.  Six days of celebrations – raptor fights for our entertainment, sparring contests with generous prizes funded personally by yours truly, food and drink for all.  As it happens, our return home coincides almost perfectly with Brewfest, so all the better – beer and grog from around the world!  Tap every keg in sight, boys and girls, and let the ale flow – all on your Warchief’s tab.  Let it wash down the feasts – and oh, man, will there ever be feasts.  All accompanied by lok’tras and lok’vadnods by the best of our bards and poets.

And you know what that means.  Oh yeah.

          to a young mage


Jaina, are you shattered
Over Theramore, all splattered?
Towns, by sleight of hand, you
Can’t just conjure up, now can you?
If not, tough – no QQ’in’,
You’re just stuck now ruling ruins.
Of course, that would assume
You weren’t blown up when things went boom;
Chance you’re grieving now decreases
If you’re smashed to little pieces!
But whether live or dead you lie,
Now you’ll weep and you’ll know why:
Orcish destiny restored,
All opposed fall to the Horde!
Tis the blight humans were born for,
The Alliance that you mourn for.




Enjoy it, Horde.  Soak it in.  You’ve earned it.



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

The fall of Theramore

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 28, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

Victory from the jaws of defeat.

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

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

Today was a good day.


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

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

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

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

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

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

A blood elf.

See if you can guess who writes his checks.

Down came the gates, and in came the Horde.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, wait.  I do.

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

Goodbye, Theramore.

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

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

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

But it would do.  For a start.

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 24, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

So yeah, I know I’m just getting this mailbag in under the wire for it to count as Monday, but whatever, it’s hard to get a stable internet connection out here in the fucking swamp.  I’m writing from the field as we make our final march into Dustwallow Marsh.  I figured I haven’t answered any mail for a while, so it might be good to offer up a few messages from the my loyal Horde minions before we but a roflstomping on the humans.

Let’s see what we’ve got…


Written on a heavy parchment in multicolored inks, the first impression of this letter is one of chaos. Small sketches of Tauren, prairie wolves, swoops, and other sights of Mulgore clutter the margins, at times encroaching on the text itself. The sketches are obviously done quickly, but with moderate skill; the subjects are clearly recognizable even though the drawings are rough and unfinished. In contrast, the words meander across the page, crooked and shaky, with the occasional backwards letter. Many times a word will be started in one color of ink and finished in another, as if the writer got distracted halfway through the word.

Dear Mistr Warcheif Sir,

I have a question, and the nice ork Mistr U told me to write to you and ask. Hes visiting, and hes been reel nice to me. He talks a lot. Sumtimes I cant ask him anything because he talks too much. But he told me to ask you. He said you would kno. I wanted to ask if brown orks taste diffrent than green orks. Do green orks taste like mint? Are brown orks chocklate? Tauren taste like fur. Why are you brown when the other orks are green? Did you eat too much chocklate? Everyone tells me I cant eat too much chocklate, itll make me sick. Did you get sick from chocklate? Mistr U needs to go now, so I have to stop riting and give this to him.

The letter is signed with a large, inky pawprint, a small sketch of a Tauren druid in cat form, and the shaky name “Taktani,” with every letter in a different color ink.




<scratches head>

The FUCK is this?

Okay, so I get that the talkative orc this person is talking about is probably Utvoch… I mean, starts with “U” and talks too much, how many of those could there be?  And I guess this is good since it confirms D&U must still be alive in the restored timeline after…well…you know.  Um…I GUESS that’s a good thing.  Not sure what Utvoch is doing in Mulgore rather than Vindication Hold up in Stonetalon, but whatever.  I guess being killed in the line of duty earns you a little R&R time.

As for you, Taktani…um, no, brown orcs don’t taste like chocolate, and green orcs don’t taste like mint.  Although it IS kind of funny thinking of that, since it would mean, what, Thrall and Aggra are going to have mint chocolate chip babies?  Heh.  But no, we just taste like….orc.  I mean for real, I get enough attention from the ladies as it is, what with me being Warchief and dead sexy and all — last thing I need is for word to start getting around that I taste like chocolate too.  Dude, I won’t be able to walk down the fucking STREET.

Anyway, Taktani, thanks for writing just the same.  Hopefully you’ve outgrown Tauren Kindergarten-Land in Mulgore, and are off doing some bigger-kid stuff.  The Horde can always use more good soldiers, especially on my watch with me looking far and wide for ways to keep the troops busy.  Ashenvale’s looking pretty nice this time of year, if I can make a recommendation.  Just don’t get too much of the damn night elf glitter in your eyes.


Hey mon!

I’m writing’ to ya from one of our ships headin’ down to Theramore!  I’m on a boat, mon!

Make sure ya watch it to da end, mon!

–Bob, S.S. Echo Isles

I… he… what the hell IS this, the mailbag of WTF?!

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that this Bob guy managed to dig up a new and creative way to be stupid.  Funny, though, I’m pretty sure that’s the song I’ve been hearing Vol’jin humming to himself for most of the trip down.  Maybe it’s some kind of a troll thing…


Hail, Warchief!

Time is short, in more ways than one. I’m writing this for those of us on the road to Theramore.

The hour of assault approaches. There may be some who doubt why we’re here. Why we’re doing this. Why we must. The reason can be given in one word: Taurajo. A hunters’ camp, not a military target, annihilated by marauding Alliance soldiers. Soldiers, I say? I misspoke: they weren’t soldiers, they were bandits. Bandits supplied, equipped, and brought to Kalimdor through one place and one place only.

That is why Theramore must burn.

That is also why I make what may sound like a peculiar request. When we make the final assault, those of us who aren’t compelled otherwise should wear Thunder Bluff’s colors. Not only will this show our solidarity with our Tauren brothers, it will also remind those cowards why we come. To remind them that Justice neither relents, nor sleeps.

For the Horde! And for Taurajo!

–A Concerned Citizen

Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!  Go to it, ACC, lay some truth on them motherfuckers!  I’ve got to say, one thing that’s fucking infuriated me on this trip has been seeing how many of our people HAVEN’T on board with me with the post-Taurajo hate.  Check this out — I even heard a rumor that Baine was telling people that Taurajo was a legitimate military target, and the human commander at least gave the civilians room to flee, and he wonders if we’ll conduct ourselves as honorably.  This is BAINE talking.  BAINE.  THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT?  In what backwards-ass universe am I more pissed off about Camp T than chieftain of the fucking tauren?!

Anyway, I’m definitely encouraging the troops to follow your suggestion, ACC.  And on that note, we’re about to spit up the force for the final march.  I’ll update again soon…can’t wait to see the looks on the humans’ faces.  I’ve got a little surprise planned for them…

Now Inviting: F Y V

Posted in Words from Behind the Curtain with tags , , , , on September 22, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

Hi everyone — a quick out-of-character announcement from Averry.

I’d mentioned in response to a comment a little while back that I was planning to create a guild for friends and readers of blog-Garrosh to come hang out an meet each other.  I finally got around to creating the guild about a week ago (I didn’t want to interrupt the recent alternate-reality story with an announcement at the time), and so now, come one, come all, <F Y V> is now ready and waiting with open arms!

Ultimately the guild is going to be a (mostly) alt guild for screwing around and socializing, although I wouldn’t be above using it to instigate a cross-realm retro-ish raid or two as time goes on.  Above all else, I thought it might be a good way to meet some more readers and fellow bloggers, since I don’t often get to interact with you all directly while tucked away behind the Garrosh persona.

So, if you’re interested and dropping by and saying hello, <F Y V> is located on Kargath-US server, and run by a certain goblin by the name of Spazzlefizz.  If Spazzle himself isn’t online, feel free to look for me under my Battlenet tag, Averry#1116.

That’s all from me for now!  We now return to the imminent destruction of Theramore…

Be seeing you,


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.


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.]

The future never happened

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

The time portal was more dizzying than usual, but when we finally emerged on the other side, there it was – Hillsbrad, just like it looked a few months ago.  Ten years ago.  A lifetime ago, it seemed, and for all that’s happened, maybe it was.  It was early in the morning, and the first rays of sunlight were just starting to peek through the trees.

At one point while we made our way toward Southshore, Edwin asked if it was a good idea for us to be taking the road like we were.  At first I didn’t realize what he meant – I thought he was worried we’d run into someone who would recognize him, but I figured we could always improvise a cover story if we needed to.

Then I looked at my hands.

I don’t know if something went wrong with the portal, or if maybe Soridormi was making such an effort to get the timeline crossing to work that she couldn’t bother with anything else, but when I came through, apparently, I wasn’t changed into a human form.  I was still my normal (and let’s face it, dead sexy) orcish self.

So yeah, we got off the road and into the outskirts of the woods right quick, because the last thing we needed was some patrol to see an orc rolling around loose down the road from Durnholde like it was something to do.

We made our way down to Southshore and hung around the surrounding woods.  It was still early in the morning, but we could see the first signs of activity as some of the townspeople started to emerge from their homes and tend to their livestock.  We waited a while longer, and finally a few people came out of the inn – Alexandros Mograine, along with Fairbanks and Doan.  They went around to the stables, carrying bags.  The rest of the Silver Hands would be checking out soon.

I reminded Edwin that our opening could come any minute, and ran through the details I knew for probably the fifth time since we’d arrived: at some point the kid Herod would turn up with younger-hexed-Edwin, older-Edwin would sheep Herod and break younger-Edwin’s hex, older-Edwin would go invisible and bolt.  Guy-who’s-with-me-right-now-Edwin (and wow am I getting sick of specifying) nodded all the way through, but I got the sense he was getting sick of me reminding him he’d only have a short post-hex pre-invis window.

Finally, after a few more minutes, a young boy came running up from the docks chasing a frog.  He caught up to it just in front of the inn.

Herod was in position.  It was almost go time.

Edwin didn’t need any prompting.  As he started getting up to make his move, I shook his hand and wished him luck.

From the entrance to the inn, a second human named Edwin Faranell appeared.

The Edwin who’d come with me turned just long enough to shove a folded-up paper into my hand and say “Good luck to you, too,” and then he was off.

I didn’t even fully register the paper – I was too concerned with watching Edwin go, and I tucked it into my belt.  While Edwin ran into town, I kept looking around, because let’s face it, this is US, and the universe wouldn’t let us get through something important without some kind of final infuriating wrinkle.  Sure enough, the universe didn’t disappoint, because look who was riding toward town on horseback, from the northern road: Kel’Thuzad.

Right off I thought of about half a dozen ways KT could make a mess of this, most of them involving some variation of the phrase “Why are there two copies of that guy I know in front of the inn?”  All I could think was Kel’Thuzad couldn’t be allowed the chance to spot Edwin.  My head was too busy racing in circles to come up with much in the way of a clever plan on the fly, so I ran with what I know best: the simple approach.

I jumped out of the bushes, charged Kel’Thuzad, and knocked him off his horse before he could reach the town square.  As soon as I was in plain sight, two of the town guards saw me and ran to intercept, yelling about an orc intruder.  They were pretty weak, and I slapped back what passed for their attacks pretty easily, but I didn’t work too hard to put the smackdown on them.  Let them pay attention to me.  Let the whole town pay attention to me.  Just for a few more minutes.

More shouting was coming from the town, and when I looked back over my shoulder, Mograine and his two Silver Hand flunkies were running up to help the guards.  Doan stood back and tossed some fireballs at me – stung a little, but nothing I couldn’t shrug off.  KT, on the other hand…yeah, those frostbolts of his were no joke.  Meanwhile, I had Mograine and Fairbanks and the two weak-ass guards swiping away at me from all sides.

I kept trying to look back at the inn, but in all the commotion, I couldn’t really see anything anymore.  Then, while I was trading swings with Fairbanks, Mograine managed to grab me by my shoulderguard and spin me so I was facing the square, with my back to him.

And then a sharp, warm pain in my back.

It’s a funny thing.  For all the bizarre distortions and traveling in time we’ve done, it’s the moment that has nothing to do with time magic that stands out – when time slows down for all its own mundane reasons, breaks down into flashes, reduces itself to images that come drop by drop.

Looking past the crowd in the square.  Catching the shortest glimpse of a third Faranell appearing in front of the inn as if from nowhere.

The blur of my Faranell rushing toward the other two.

My eyes dropping to look at my chest.  The blade of the Ashbringer, jutting out, coated with dark blood.

The fact that it didn’t even hurt nearly as much as I’d think it would.  The thought that maybe that was still coming.

Looking back up, to the sight of flickering yellow cracks spreading silently in the air around the inn.  A pulsing yellow ball of light swelling up without a sound, then bursting out in all directions.

And I remember looking down again at the sword bursting from my chest, and the blood coming in slow-motion spurts.  And I remember, just as the wave of warm yellow light washed over me…I think I remember laughing.

The rest is darkness.

And then I woke up.



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

Let’s do the time warp again

Posted in General, Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 17, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

It was late when we arrived in Dalaran.  After the bunch of us got off the Windrunner, Dranosh ordered Drok to take his crew and report to Bolvar and the Argent Vanguard to help however much he could.  As the ship made its departure, we got going to the Violet Citadel.

On the way, we passed through the center of the city.  It was an eerie sight for me.  In the middle of town, on the spot where there should have been the monument to the defeat of the Lich King, there’s a memorial honoring Tirion and the heroes who were lost with him in Icecrown Citadel.  Liadrin stopped for a minute and offered a prayer for the fallen.  Jaina.  Dontrag and Utvoch.  Saurfang.

A gnome was making his way around the city lighting all the lampposts when we arrived at the Violet Citadel.  Rhonin was waiting for our arrival and was pacing around in the main hall like a restless animal.  Liadrin started to break the news to him about Jaina, but Rhonin cut her off.  I think he already knew, as soon as he saw us walk in without her.

He took us upstairs, where he summoned a portal for us to the Caverns of Time.



People get so used to taking mage portals that before long they forget how disorienting they are at first.  You’re in one place, then there’s a flash of light, and for half a second you’re nowhere.  You feel this dizzying whoosh run through your whole body and you feel like you’re falling, and then all of a sudden you’re somewhere different.  New sights, new sounds, new everything.  After you’ve done it a few times, you learn to roll with it and regain your sense of direction quickly, but every so often, when you first arrive in a new place, something happens to throw you out of your routine and reminds you just how unsettling it can be.

The ground shook violently under our feet as we arrived at the Caverns of Time.  Not even just the ground – the walls, the ceiling, somehow even the air seemed to shudder around us.  Bronze dragons were racing around, and bunches of drakonids ran up the ramp toward the surface.  Anachronos was rumbling around, barking orders, rallying the cavern’s defenders.  I don’t think I’d ever seen him so animated.  After a minute, he spread his enormous wings and flew up the winding passageway with a handful of bronze drakes close behind.

In the middle of the chaos, Chromie teleported in right on top of us, talking a million miles an hour, and finally ushered us back to Soridormi, near the Hillsbrad portal, before teleporting away again.


SORIDORMI:  Thank the Titans you’ve made it.  We don’t have much time.

GARROSH:  Do I even want to ask?

SORIDORMI:  The Legion must have pieced together what we might try to do, as I’d feared.  They started their attack some hours ago.  We’ve been holding them back, but the battle has been a costly one.

The entire cavern quakes as shouts echo from the surface passageway.

DRANOSH:  Well, we brought you a present.

Dranosh steps back and gestures to Faranell, who is holding the Focusing Iris.

FARANELL:  <handing the Iris to Soridormi>  Will you be able to do it?

SORIDORMI:  <nods>  It will take me a few minutes to open the portal and stabilize it, but I can get you back to Southshore, yes.

DRANOSH:  Wait, Southshore?  What’s in Southshore?

LIADRIN:  A very long story

GARROSH:  Well now for the 50,000 gold question – what do we do when we’re back there?

MOKVAR:  Please don’t tell me we have to go in and kidnap old-Edwin and switch him with young-Edwin but also do something with original-young-Edwin while we’re at it to make sure old-us don’t still grab original-young-Edwin by mistake, because, I mean, not enough aspirin in the world.

LIADRIN:  Not to mention we would have to do something about the chameleon shard attunement in that case, if this Edwin doesn’t end up tending to it…

DRANOSH:  Is there a reason why everyone but me seems to know what’s going on wherever it is we’re going?

LIADRIN:  Honestly?  Because everyone but you was there the first time.

GARROSH:  We were all there before, Dranosh – the four of us, in old Southshore, about ten years ago.  That’s how all of this started.  That’s why the Legion and the Scourge are winning now.

LIADRIN:  None of this was ever supposed to happen.  It’s only happened this way because events in the past were altered, and have snowballed into what’s happening now.

DRANOSH:  <blinking>  Okay, I think I need a second here…

GARROSH:  While you’re doing that… Sori?  What’s the plan here?

SORIDORMI:  I can get you to Hillsbrad the morning of the last day you were there.  That’s when the disruption began.  And ultimately, this rests on Edwin.

FARANELL:  Oh great…

SORIDORMI:  You’re right, Mokvar; trying to switch off versions of Edwin would be far too complicated and leave too much room for something else to go wrong…

The cavern shudders again, more violently.

GARROSH:  Okay, this is sounding like we’re going for the simple approach.  I’m a big fan of the simple approach.

SORIDORMI:  Ordinarily, the one thing one must never do when traveling in time is to interact with oneself.  In this case, though, that’s exactly what Edwin will need to do: force a crossing of timelines between both – or rather, all – versions of himself present in that time.  If Edwin can make physical contact with both iterations of himself at once, it should short out the crossed lines and snap each version back to where he’s supposed to be.

LIADRIN:  That last morning – that was when future-Edwin broke past-Edwin out of Mokvar’s hex.

MOKVAR:  There’s our window.  They’ll both be within a few feet of each other.

SORIDORMI:  If he can do it, the shorting out should trigger both realities into resetting themselves and separating.

GARROSH:  You get all that, Doc?  Today’s your turn to save the world…

The ground shakes once again, and the cavern walls around the surface passage buckle.  A handful of bronze dragons rush down into the cavern, with a swarm of demons close behind.  Behind the initial wave of demon shock troops, Varimathras and Prince Malchezaar descend into the cavern.

CHROMIE:  <calling out while circling around the cavern in dragon form>  They’ve breached the cavern!  Fall back and regroup!  We have to hold them!

LIADRIN:  Soridormi, do you need all of us to go back?

SORIDORMI:  Edwin is the only one who has to go.

DRANOSH:  <to Liadrin>  I think that’s our cue for one last battle of the line.

Liadrin nods, draws the Ashbringer, and runs into a pack of terrorfiends, tearing through then with one spinning swipe of the blade.

<to Garrosh>  This was your mission from the get-go, Overlord.  Go see it through, and I’ll talk to you when it’s over.

Dranosh starts to turn to join the battle.

GARROSH:  Dranosh!

Dranosh looks back.  Garrosh looks at him in silence for a moment.

…Give them hell.

DRANOSH:  <smirks>  I don’t really think they’re running short.  <starts running toward the demons>  Now go be a hero – that’s an order!

Dranosh leaps into a group of felguards and bursts into a Bladestorm.

GARROSH:  You’re the boss.  Lok’tar, Warchief…

FARANELL:  Soridormi… I’ll try my best at this, but even if it works…

Soridormi nods to Faranell and starts to channel a spell through the Focusing Iris into the time portal.

Well…Garrosh said that…the other me may have thrown off the timeline without even meaning to, just because of what he knew.  But now me…I’ve seen so much, how do we know I won’t disrupt history all over again?

Soridormi reaches into a belt pouch and tosses a small tuber to Faranell.

SORIDORMI:  This is a Nepenthe Root.  Is grows only here in the Caverns of Time.  Eat it once you’re through the time portal; it will take an hour or two to take effect.  The root is a powerful purifier on the mind – its effects will ripple through your entire timeline, purging any memories out of synch with their natural timeframe.

GARROSH:  It’s not going to oops-mindwipe him completely, is it?

SORIDORMI:  No…the worst side effect he might experience would manifest itself as sporadic and random lapses of memory.


The demons continued flooding into the cavern while Dranosh, Liadrin, and the dragons fought to hold them at bay.  A group of doomguards managed to get all the way back to the Hillsbrad portal with us.  Mokvar, Edwin, and I managed to fight them off while Soridormi continued channeling her spell.  Once they were dead, Mokvar pushed his notes into my hands and said to take care of Edwin while he helped the rest with the demons, and ran off into the fight.

I looked past Mokvar as he ran into the fray and saw Dranosh going toe-to-toe with Varimathras, then leaping up and sending a Mortal Strike tearing straight into the dreadlord’s throat.  One more swing and he had Varimathras’ head off altogether.  He caught it, spun around, and sent it flying at Malchezaar — pointed so that the dreadlord’s horns pierced straight through Malchezaar’s eyes.

The portal glowed brighter as Soridormi poured more magic into it.  Then the ground shuddered again, and large chunks of the stone around the surface passage broke away.  With a demonic laugh announcing his arrival, Kil’jaeden, Lord of the Burning Legion, stepped down into the Caverns of Time and started walking directly toward us.

Liadrin tore through at least twenty demons with one of her Divine Storms, and ran between Kil’jaeden and us.  The demon lord extended his hand toward her, palm extended, and released a torrent of shadow magic.  Liadrin held the Ashbringer over her head and projected a shimmering shield of holy magic around herself.  The two stood there, facing each other down – Kil’jaeden kept pouring more power into his shadow torrent, Liadrin kept drawing on the Light and the power of the Ashbringer to hold it back.  As she exerted herself more and more, a gleaming white light shone out of the Ashbringer and around her whole body – and after a moment, just as Soridormi called out to us that the time portal was ready, the glowing, pulsing light surrounding Liadrin sharpened into the shape of a naaru.

Liadrin looked back at us.  Her eyes were white and glowing.  For all the fighting and screaming and magic eruptions, I should never have been able to make out an individual voice, but just for a moment I could hear hers – in my head.  It was accompanied by a musical chiming, and echoed by a second voice, one I’d heard but not quite heard once before…the voice of A’dal.

We can’t hold him forever.  GO!

I grabbed Edwin’s arm and pulled him through the portal as the ground shook and the walls quaked.  The Caverns of Time disappeared in a dizzying rush of light, and the sounds of battle ringing in my ears faded into a memory of the future as I felt myself sliding back into the past.

I’ll see you on the other side.