Archive for the Words from a Scribe Category

Divided Loyalties

Posted in Transcripts, Words from a Scribe with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 7, 2015 by Garrosh Hellscream


Since I’ve been back in Orgrimmar, I’ve been kept so busy most days that I’ve hardly had time to stop, catch my breath, and really get back to the normal, mundane business of everyday life. It hasn’t just been the meetings with Garrosh, or the time spent in Ragefire Chasm with Overseer Elaglo or the Cleft of Shadow with Neeru. (Who hasn’t gotten any less coolly unsettling, by the way.) The biggest time sink has been getting my life back together in tangible terms. I suppose most people never need to worry about the practical ramifications of their own deaths, but believe me, when you’re exiled, then declared dead, getting all of that backtracked and your life out of mothballs is a giant pain. Honestly, I used to chuckle at Garrosh getting all irritable over paperwork and triplicate forms. Never again.

In retrospect, it’s a little ironic that Neeru mentioned the other day how unlikely he thought it would be for me to hide the Nether Prism at my house, where someone could break in and steal it. I don’t know if there’s anyplace in Orgrimmar that would have been MORE secure; at that point, my old place was still sealed up under Kor’kron security orders. Any rogue this side of Garona would have had an easier time stealthing into Orgrimmar than breaking into my place. After returning to town, I ended up spending more time cutting through red tape than anything else – getting my house unlocked, my old stuff pulled from storage and returned, my name removed from death records all over the place… Although, honestly, if the tax office wants to go on thinking I’m dead, I probably won’t complain about that one.

Still, all the time I’ve had to spend getting my life back together, combined with all the time spent meeting with the people I’ve needed to, means that until now I haven’t had much time to get caught up with some of the people I’ve wanted to.


JI: Oh… so… are we not having lunch?

SPAZZLE: Uh oh. Here we go…

MOKVAR: Lunch? Well, no, I hadn’t really… Are you hungry?

SPAZZLE: Wow, you really have been away for a long time.

JI: Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.

MOKVAR: Okay. Yeah, sorry, Ji.

JI: It’s just that I suppose I assumed, given the time you said to come over, that we would be having lunch…

MOKVAR: Right. But, no, Ji, I wasn’t thinking lunch. Just that we could sit back and have a few drinks and talk.

JI: Drinks are good!

MOKVAR: Okay, great. So why don’t you guys—

JI: I suppose it’s my mistake. I should have thought to eat earlier.

MOKVAR: Um… would you like me to get you something, Ji?

JI: Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.

MOKVAR: Right. So…

JI: I could swear I smelled something cooking, though.

MOKVAR: Yeah… that’s, um, that’s some clefthoof stew I have simmering for dinner tonight.

SPAZZLE: You realize you’re just digging yourself deeper, right?

JI: Oh, I see… so it’s not ready yet?

MOKVAR: Well… it is, but… I mean, it’s one of those things where it gets better the longer you let it simmer. So I usually let it sit for most of the day, and…

JI: Oh, I’m not picky! It doesn’t have to be perfect.

SPAZZLE: Aaaaaaaand here we go.

MOKVAR: Would… you like some, Ji?

JI: Just a small helping, if you please.

MOKVAR: Um… okay. Why don’t you guys have a seat while I…yeah.

Mokvar retrieves a large pot from the hearth while Spazzle and Ji sit around a circular table.

SPAZZLE: <turning to look at side of his chair> Mokvar, what’s up with these stickers on your stuff?

Mokvar returns and sets a plate on the table before Ji.

MOKVAR: Oh, those? That’s from Kor’kron impoundment.

SPAZZLE: Yikes. How much did they take out of here?

MOKVAR: A lot.

Mokvar scoops a small ladle of stew onto Ji’s plate. Ji leans down to inspect the food a moment, then looks up at Mokvar quizzically.

Is… something wrong?

JI: Well, I did mean a little larger small helping.

MOKVAR: Well maybe it would save time if you just took the whole—

Ji snatches the pot from Mokvar happily.

JI: Thank you, Mokvar!

Ji starts ladling large scoops of stew onto his plate.

MOKVAR: <turning back to Spazzle> Did you want some, too, Spaz?

Ji looks up from the food with an expression of faint concern.

SPAZZLE: No, I’m good.

Ji beams and continues shoveling stew onto his plate.

MOKVAR: Anyway… yeah, they took most of the stuff out of here. Pretty much anything you could carry without needing a second set of hands.

SPAZZLE: Yikes. Your computer, too?

MOKVAR: Oh, man, that was the biggest headache to get back.

SPAZZLE: Did they go through your files? Or could you even tell?

Ji sets down the pot and ties a napkin around his neck.

MOKVAR: I don’t think so. <chuckles> My password lock showed something like five hundred failed attempts to log on.

Ji rubs his paws together, then starts to eat eagerly.

SPAZZLE: Eesh. You know, I’ll bet you anything Malkorok was beating his head against the wall on that one personally.

MOKVAR: Oh no doubt. That’s why I made a point of setting a password he’d never think to try.

SPAZZLE: Oh? What was it?

MOKVAR: “Malkorok.”


JI: <mouth full of stew> Daff’s fweally thpart, Bokbar.

MOKVAR: Um…thanks. Need any salt, Ji?

JI: <back to eating> Doh tahk yew.

SPAZZLE: That was pretty clever, though. I bet it ticked him off something fierce not being able to crack it.

MOKVAR: I’m half surprised they didn’t bring you in to try to hack in. I’m sure you could have.

SPAZZLE: <shrugs> Who knows. I was probably under suspicion myself by that point. Speaking of which, actually…

Spazzle starts digging through his backpack, then produces a small totem of orcish design.

You gave me this. Back in Everlook. I know you probably don’t need it anymore, or even… well, you know, what with you not being a shaman anymore, but…

Spazzle hands the totem to Mokvar.

I figured it should come back to you either way.

MOKVAR: Thanks.

Mokvar looks at the totem in his hands for a moment, then carries it to the mantle over the hearth and sets it down. Ji looks up at what Mokvar is doing, then turns his attention back to ladling more stew onto his plate.

I don’t figure I’ll have much use for these anymore, yeah. Who knows, though, the way Elaglo and Xorenth are blurring the lines between shamans and warlocks.

SPAZZLE: With the dark shamans, you mean?


SPAZZLE: What are they doing down there, anyway?

MOKVAR: Mostly working on improving their elemental command spells. They’re pretty much trying to maintain better control of summoned elementals, making it less of an “elements hear my prayer” and more of an “elements do my bidding.”

Mokvar walks back to the table.

SPAZZLE: Like the molten giants at Northwatch.

MOKVAR: Yeah, exactly.

Mokvar looks into the now-empty pot sitting on the table next to Ji, then looks to Ji himself.

All done?

JI: <looks down at his empty plate, then smiles> It was very good, thank you!

MOKVAR: Sure you won’t have any more?

JI: <looks at his plate again, then back up> Is there any more?

MOKVAR: No, there isn’t.

JI: I thought not.

MOKVAR: Yeah. So…

SPAZZLE: For what it’s worth, you’re getting off lighter than I did the last time Ji ate at my place.

MOKVAR: Why? What happened?

JI: Oh bother.

SPAZZLE: He got stuck in the door on his way out.

MOKVAR: You’re…kidding.

JI: It wasn’t my fault!

SPAZZLE: Well it all comes from eating too much.

JI: It all comes from not having front doors big enough!

SPAZZLE: Well, next time, you can host.

JI: I will!

MOKVAR: Well, anyway…

JI: What should I make?


JI: When you come over.

SPAZZLE: I… we didn’t even really plan it.

JI: Well yes, but I like to plan what I’m cooking in advance!

SPAZZLE: I, um, I’m easy to please.

JI: I might need to go shopping, after all.

SPAZZLE: Really, Ji, you don’t need to make anything special on my account.


JI: Oh, nonsense. You’re a guest. <thoughtfully> Now, there’s also the Pandaren Noodle Festival to think of…

SPAZZLE: The what?


JI: Well I wouldn’t want to repeat something being served at the festival and seem lazy, after all…

SPAZZLE: No, really, anything you would make—

JI: You’re sure? I would hate for you to come all that way and not have something you enjoyed.

MOKVAR: Ji, I think what he means is that he’d like to be surprised.


JI: Oh!

MOKVAR: That’s part of the fun of being a lunch guest…right, Spazzle?

JI: I like surprises!

SPAZZLE: Um… Oh. Yeah! Surprises. Yes sir, nothing more fun than…uh… surprise lunch. Yeah.

JI: Oh, this will be fun. I can try making— oh, oops, I almost spoiled it.

SPAZZLE: No spoilers!

JI: Yes, yes, silly me. I— wait, when are you coming over again?


MOKVAR: That’s part of the surprise.

JI: <blinks> Oh.

SPAZZLE: Uh, right!

JI: Well I suppose that’s… <tilts head> I should have thought of that. How silly of me.

Mokvar slumps into a chair.

SPAZZLE: So hey, now that you’re working over there with those dark shaman guys, have you been able to find out how Garrosh managed to bring them on board?

MOKVAR: How do you mean?

SPAZZLE: You know, like after he shut them down when they were in Ragefire Chasm before.

JI: They used to be enemies?

SPAZZLE: It was before you got to town, Ji. But yeah. Rumors about them were flying all over the place, but no one ever really got any solid information. All anybody really knows is that we had expeditions going down into Ragefire for a while trying to shut down whatever they were doing.

JI: Oh. So now they’re on our side?

SPAZZLE: Apparently.

MOKVAR: Yeah. About that.

SPAZZLE: Uh oh. It’s never something good when people start like that.


Mokvar sits quietly for a moment.

SPAZZLE: Oh geez. That bad, huh? What did Garrosh have to offer them to bring them over?

MOKVAR: It’s not that. They were always over.

SPAZZLE: The what you say?

JI: I’m confused.

SPAZZLE: Welcome to Orgrimmar.

MOKVAR: The dark shamans were always Kor’kron operatives. Even in the beginning, when it looked like they were renegades making trouble in RFC. The whole business about them being some rogue shaman group was just a front they were putting up.

SPAZZLE: They— but why?

MOKVAR: Plausible deniability, I guess? In case thei dark shamanism angle turned bad? Meanwhile… the expeditions that were sent down there to “clean up” the problem were just… training exercises, pretty much. A way to weed out the weak – on both ends.

SPAZZLE: Wait – so Garrosh knew about this? He planned it?

MOKVAR: Big picture, it was his plan to build a force of dark shamans. How much he knew about the nuts and bolts… I don’t know. I’m guessing at least some of the job of making the trains run on time went to Malkorok, but… I don’t know. I’m still being kept in the dark about a lot of things. I probably know too much as it is. Hell, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this much.

SPAZZLE: Gee, thanks.

MOKVAR: I don’t mean like that. Hell, Spaz, I wouldn’t…

Mokvar trails off, looking back at the extinguished totem on the mantle, then gestures to it as he turns back to Spazzle.

I wouldn’t have left that with you if I didn’t trust you. I just mean I’ve already dragger you into too much trouble as it is. I don’t want you to be stuck keeping more secrets again now.

SPAZZLE: Uh… yeah… About that…

Spazzle looks around uncomfortably, then stares at the floor for a moment.

<quietly> I’ve been talking to Vol’jin.

MOKVAR: You’ve… been…

SPAZZLE: A lot. For a few months now.

MOKVAR: Uh, Spaz, I know you’re a shaman and talk to ancestral spirits and all…

SPAZZLE: Well, in theory.

MOKVAR: Yeah, well, the point is, I didn’t realize that the spirits in question included trolls for you.

SPAZZLE: No, no, they don’t. I don’t mean I’m… Vol’jin’s alive.

MOKVAR: He— wha— how?

SPAZZLE: I actually blogged about this, you know.

MOKVAR: Yeah, sorry, that must have been during that period when I was sort of preoccupied with not being corpsecamped by spectral assassins.

SPAZZLE: Yeah, well. He’s alive. He’s recovering from injuries still in Pandaria, but he’s alive.

MOKVAR: Okay, so… Vol’jin’s alive, Jaina’s a warmonger, Garrosh has a half-draenei kid – what else did I miss? Is Utvoch dating Magatha? Did Alleria and Turalyon finally turn up? Did Grommash actually not drink the blood—

SPAZZLE: Well now you’re getting ridiculous.

MOKVAR: Well who knows at this point? How is Vol’jin alive? He survived the saurok attack after all?

SPAZZLE: It wasn’t a saurok attack. I mean, there were saurok, but… One of the Kor’kron tried to kill Vol’jin. Nearly did. He left him for dead, and Vol’jin’s had his supporters keeping up the lie that he is dead since then.

MOKVAR: Oh fel… And Garrosh…?

SPAZZLE: Doesn’t know. And he can’t find out.

MOKVAR: So… you mean he…?


MOKVAR: You’re sure? I don’t know why I’m even surprised, but… you’re sure?

SPAZZLE: The Kor’kron staged a takeover of the Echo Isles right after word of Vol’jin’s death broke.

MOKVAR: Spirits…

SPAZZLE: They had the place under military occupation until Thrall and a few others overthrew them.

MOKVAR: Does Garrosh know about this? I can’t imagine he does, otherwise – and I can’t believe I’m about to say this – I have to figure he would be in a much worse mood these days.

SPAZZLE: No, he doesn’t. Only a few people do.

MOKVAR: But how? I can see the Vol’jin thing being kept quiet, okay, but how could he not have found out about this?

SPAZZLE: There were still a few Kor’kron who trained under Saurfang, who are loyal to Thrall. Captain Gort, a few others… They’ve been reporting to Orgrimmar and maintaining the appearance that the occupation is still going on.

MOKVAR: Spaz… you have to know where this is heading.

SPAZZLE: <nods> I’ve been trying not to think about it.

MOKVAR: So you haven’t told Garrosh… Are you…?

SPAZZLE: <shakes his head> I haven’t been doing anything for them other than keeping quiet. I told Vol’jin before… I won’t work against him and Thrall, but I won’t betray Garrosh, either.

MOKVAR: You know if he finds out about this…

SPAZZLE: I know.

MOKVAR: Especially after… oh, man, Spaz, I’m sorry I dragged you into my whole mess. Both of you.

JI: You didn’t do anything. You’re a friend. You needed help. <shrugs> Anything else is just distraction.

SPAZZLE: Don’t worry about me, Mokvar. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is.

JI: <perking up> Wait, is there another plate?

SPAZZLE: Figuratively, Ji, figuratively…

VOICE: Well, there is

A whooshing sound is heard, then, in the empty chair next to Mokvar, Deliana unstealths, holding a plate of what appears to be a few leftover bites of stew.

DELIANA: I had to move fast just to get a mouthful for myself before you inhaled it all.

Mokvar eyes a surprised Spazzle and Ji, then shrugs.

MOKVAR: What’s one more layer of compromise at this point, right?

SPAZZLE: Oh…man.

JI: Does Garrosh know she’s—?

MOKVAR: What do you think, Ji?

DELIANA: There aren’t exactly a lot of Alliance-looking types strolling around Orgrimmar unkilled.

JI: Well, that Shayari is a draenei…

DELIANA: Oh, don’t get me started on little miss fancy-hooves.

MOKVAR: You’re just mad because she turned you into a sheep.

DELIANA: Oh, good, annoy your security net. That’s a smart plan.

MOKVAR: I’m just saying.

SPAZZLE: So wait, how long have you been in Orgrimmar?

MOKVAR: Pretty much as long as I have.

DELIANA: I’ve had to sneak in and out a few times, but yeah.

SPAZZLE: What have you been doing?

DELIANA: Mostly giving Mokvar an extra set of eyes that no one knows is there. And some help on stand-by in case something goes bad.

MOKVAR: With everything that’s going on with the shamans, and Neeru, and… hell, I can’t even be sure Malkorok might not still try something at some point.

DELIANA: I can watch his back, and stealth around to check on things. And if nothing else, we know I don’t have anyone I have to answer to.

SPAZZLE: Yeah. You’re lucky that way.

Everyone sits quietly for a moment, looking back and forth between them.

MOKVAR: Well… whatever happens from here on, one way or another, I guess we’re all in it together now.

JI: Weren’t we always?

MOKVAR: You’re a good kid, Ji.

SPAZZLE: So… question is… what side are we on?

Mokvar looks back at Spazzle uneasily, then glances to Deliana. Spazzle exchanges looks with Mokvar and Ji, while Deliana leans forward against the table, drumming her fingers. Ji returns Spazzle’s glance, then turns to Mokvar and Deliana before looking back down at his plate. He considers the last bit of potato for a moment, then nudges the plate away from him and slumps back in his chair.




And your enemies closer

Posted in Transcripts, Words from a Scribe with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 24, 2015 by Garrosh Hellscream


Well, time to add “guest” blogging to the list of things I’ve been picking up again for the first time in a long time. I’m not sure how regularly I’ll be able to post like this, or for that matter, how much Garrosh will even let me. From the look of it, he’s had Spazzle tighten up some of the permissions for my login, which is a little ominous, but then again, I don’t know how much I can blame him, in light of everything that’s gone on. It’s probably best just to get on with the task at hand and not worry about it too much. Things will work out the way they need to, eventually.

After I left that, um, somewhat tense meeting in Grommash Hold, I went to look for Overseer Elaglo in Ragefire Chasm. On my way through the Cleft of Shadow, though, I came across a familiar face who seemed more than a little surprised to see me…


MOKVAR: <leaning in entrance to hut> Neeru.

Neeru Fireblade looks up from a pile of scrolls.

NEERU: Well now.

Neeru sets a scroll down and leans back in his chair.

I would say you really do get around, but I suspect that would woefully understate the case.

MOKVAR: You have no idea.

NEERU: I think I do. I’d heard you were dead.

MOKVAR: I was. I’m better now.

NEERU: Highly debatable. Still… <eyes Mokvar carefully> I can see why your elemental spirits would finally have had done with you.

Mokvar shrugs. Neeru continues to stare at him with narrowing eyes.

Did you find it?

MOKVAR: <grins faintly> Find what?

NEERU: Don’t be coy with me, dammit. You came to me looking for information about the Prism last time, remember?

MOKVAR: I remember. Your leads checked out.

NEERU: You have it, then.

Mokvar looks back silently.

Oh, fel, stop trying to be cute. You’re not fooling anyone. Where is it?

MOKVAR: Somewhere safe.

NEERU: <narrowing his eyes> You wouldn’t just leave it back at that shack of a house of yours, where any petty thief could make off with it. Even you’re not so great a fool.

MOKVAR: My mother always did say I was fairly bright.

Neeru stands and walks around to Mokvar.

NEERU: You don’t have it on you, though.

MOKVAR: Maybe. Maybe not.

NEERU: You don’t. You’re not nervous at all.

MOKVAR: My threshold is a lot higher than it used to be.

NEERU: You might be fool enough – or arrogant enough – to stroll into the Cleft of Shadow with the Prism on you, but even you couldn’t be oblivious enough to do it without a twinge of anxiety.

MOKVAR: You just make me feel so welcome and at home here.

NEERU: This pocket of Orgrimmar is packed to capacity with warlocks who would happily kill a sibling for the chance to tinker with that relic for even an hour. And you know that. No, you’d at least be worried if you had it on you. So where?

MOKVAR: Like I said, somewhere safe.

NEERU: Dammit, Mokvar, it’s the blasted Nether Prism – there is nowhere safe for—

Neeru straightens.

What was that?

MOKVAR: What was what?

NEERU: I heard something.

Neeru looks around, then turns back to Mokvar.

You didn’t hear that?

MOKVAR: Hear what?

NEERU: There was a sound.

MOKVAR: There are lots of sounds.

NEERU: <narrowing eyes> What are you playing at?

MOKVAR: Me? Nothing. I’m just a guy saying hello on his way to a meeting.

Mokvar turns from the door and gestures behind him.

I can be on my way if you prefer.


Neeru looks past Mokvar, following his gesture to the entrance of Ragefire Chasm.

There? What does that fool Hellscream have you doing now?

MOKVAR: Can’t say I know, myself. All I know is that he wants me to help Overseer Elaglo with something. I think Invoker Xorenth is involved too, somehow.

NEERU: Well, Xorenth is working with Elaglo, yes.

MOKVAR: You know him?

NEERU: <nods> He was part of my coven for a good many years. I don’t know if the “Invoker” title is still called for, though.

MOKVAR: Why’s that?

NEERU: You’ll see soon enough. He’s had something of a career change. Not unlike you, actually.

MOKVAR: How do you mean?

NEERU: He seems to have developed more shamanistic interests.

MOKVAR: Hmm. Well, my “career change” was the other way around, then.

NEERU: This time, yes. Who’s to say how long this one will last?

MOKVAR: Hopefully this will be the one that sticks.

NEERU: We can only hope. You can only keep playing both ends against the middle for so long before it ends up blowing up on you.

MOKVAR: I’m not playing anything against anything.

NEERU: Oh come now, Mokvar, you’re naive but not that naive. Of course you are. You went from being a warlock with pretensions of being a shaman to a shaman with delusions of being a warlock. A week with Xorenth laying out totems in front of you and you’ll start thinking maybe you’re clever enough to straddle the two a little more. Sooner or later, though, you’re going to need to figure out what you are and pick a side.

Mokvar and Neeru watch quietly while a team of peons carries several large crates into the cavern.

MOKVAR: Huh. Are they doing construction down there?

NEERU: <nods> It’s been going on for some months. See what you miss when you go all dead on us?

MOKVAR: I suppose there’d be some cleanup to do after those renegade dark shaman were stirring up trouble down there last year.

NEERU: Oh yes. Yes, they certainly caused all sorts of trouble.

MOKVAR: What are you grinning about?

NEERU: Again…you’ll see soon enough.

Mokvar shrugs.

MOKVAR: I should head down and see what this is about.

NEERU: In that case, I’ll let you be about your way. Don’t be a stranger, Mokvar.

MOKVAR: I’m sure I’ll be by again.

NEERU: Oh, and Mokvar?


NEERU: Put your damned scribe paraphernalia away. People engaged in secretive, clandestine operations are rarely put at ease by strangers carrying note pads.

MOKVAR: Huh. Good point.


So…flying sans pen for a little bit. I left Neeru and went down into Ragefire Chasm to look for Overseer Elaglo. When I got there, he was…well…overseeing. Elaglo was hovering over a work crew that was doing some construction, reinforcing the cavern walls and installing what looked like the framework for gates in a couple places. When I approached Elaglo, though, he was cagey about what was going on down there, and clearly wanted to keep me within a very constricted area of the place.

Elaglo brought me to a side chamber of RFC where a group of shaman were practicing some sort of summoning ritual. They were being supervised by Xorenth – clearly no longer an invoker – and after I’d been there for a few minutes, they managed to summon up a small pack of lesser flame hounds, evidently straight from the Firelands. It turned out that that was one of the reasons that the two of them – Xorenth especially – had an interest in me: my recent experience navigating the Firelands, and the fact that I’d somehow managed not to lose my neck in the process. The other reason, which was less of a surprise than it would have been even a few hours earlier, was the fact that I’ve had experience as both a shaman and a warlock. Xorenth seemed intent on developing ways to blend a shaman’s invocation of the elements with a warlock’s powers of dominance and control. He didn’t need to talk very much about the undertaking before I started to see how they – Garrosh – envisioned me and, potentially, the Nether Prism entering into the equation. And it didn’t take long for the entire discussion to summon up memories of the attack on Northwatch Hold last year, when a group of Horde shaman summoned and controlled – briefly and forcibly – a handful of molten giants. Shaman – except dressed in the dark robes typically adopted by warlocks. Dark shaman.

It was a strange conversation. I got the distinct impression we were both testing each other, fencing verbally, each of us trying to see if he could get the other to divulge more information without doing the same himself. I can’t imagine that the training of dark shaman and the practicing of summoning rituals could be the entirety of what’s going on in RFC. Everyone had already seen what happened at Northwatch Hold, after all. The cat was out of the bag as soon as those giants started lumbering about.

I suppose I’ll just have to be patient. Garrosh wanted me working with these two, so I suppose I’ll find out more when I need to. I can’t say it’s not a little unnerving for everyone to suddenly be holding me at arm’s length and keeping me in the dark until they’re sure I can be trusted. But I have fences to mend and promises to keep, and there’s too much at stake for me to get it into my fool head that it’s beneath my dignity to have to prove myself again. I would be naive to expect otherwise. Just a matter of weeks ago, after all, I was an exile, and a wanted fugitive before that; I couldn’t reasonably have expected to walk back into Orgrimmar and just have the run of the place. Stroll around like nothing had ever happened. Welcome home. Open arms. Same old Mokvar, the guy everybody’s known for years. I would have been naive.

I have a feeling this is going to be complicated.



In the Pale Moonlight

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


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

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

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

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

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


TAUREN:  You are Mokvar?

Mokvar nods.

MOKVAR:  Are you alone?

The tauren tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow.

You know what I mean.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DELIANA:  <shrugs>  I like green.

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

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

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

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

MOKVAR:  Yes, she is.

Magatha smirks.

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

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

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

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

MAGATHA:  The pleasure is mine.

DELIANA:  It would have to be.

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

Magatha looks around the cavern.

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

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

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

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

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

MOKVAR:  Not your typical Orgrimmar grunt, I know.

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

MOKVAR:  That’s Ji, yeah.

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

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

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

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

MAGATHA:  You flatter me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MOKVARVery off the record.

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

MOKVAR:  I have my reasons.

MAGATHA:  And those reasons would be…?

MOKVAR:  Mine.

Magatha grins.

MAGATHA:  Cairne would have liked you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MAGATHA:  <smiles thoughtfully>  Interesting…

MOKVAR:  I thought you might think so.

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

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

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

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

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

MOKVAR:  Tomorrow night, then.

MAGATHA:  Tomorrow night.

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

DELIANA:  Are you sure about this?

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

Mokvar peers up the dark passageway for several moments.

I think we’re clear.

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

DELIANA:  <whispering>  Did you hear that?

Mokvar nods.

<whispering>  There’s someone stealthed in here.

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

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

MOKVAR:  <whispering>  I was counting on it.



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

Then comes the hard part.




Desperate Times

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


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.



Demon’s Bargain

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


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.


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.


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.





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

Moving on to Plan B

Posted in Words from a Scribe with tags , , , , , , on January 25, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream


This package arrived for me a few days ago through Grommash Hold – I guess as a guest blogger these days I’m in the mailbag business myself.


This package is addressed to:

c/o Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief
Grommash Hold, Orgrimmar
Kalimdor, Azeroth

It arrives looking quite a bit the worse for wear.  Its sides are battered and one corner has been entirely crushed in.  The brown paper wrapping has been dirtied and torn but the numerous postmarks stamped on it are still legible.  Although it seems to have originated in Orgrimmar it appears to have been mysteriously routed through Ratchet, Booty Bay, Grom’gol Base Camp, Brill and finally back to Orgrimmar.

Inside the box is a large variety of random items in various states of disrepair: A partial stack of 14 Ankhs; a rabbit’s foot with several patches of fur missing; a small glass vial labeled “MOJO” in carefully penned block letters; a rather larger glass bottle labeled “TROLL SWEAT” in the same handwriting; a well-loved toy teddy bear; partial stacks of mageweave, frostweave and windwool bandages; 3 minor health potions and a large bag of crumbs which might be the remains of several dozen chocolate cookies.

At the very bottom of the box is a scrap of parchment which reads:


How you doin’, mon?  I hear you been injured somewhat and even killed!  Good t’ing it didn’t take dis time.  We shaman gotta stick together, so here are some t’ings to help you feel better soon.

Take care and watch yer back, mon.

–Kaeliss, Valley of the Spirits, Orgrimmar

Thanks, Kaeliss.  I appreciate the gesture.  Somehow I get the feeling that I might need all that stuff in the days ahead.  (Although, what’s up with the troll sweat?  I’ve never really understood why you guys bottle that stuff.)

So, speaking of which…and speaking of the mail… There’s good news and there’s bad news.

The good news is that since I, you know, read this blog, I know now that Garrosh has had Garona shadowing me and knows I’ve been meeting with Deliana.  (At least he meant well, I suppose.)

The bad news is that Garrosh knows I’ve been meeting with Deliana.  And that I’ve been up to something in Winterspring.  And apparently sneaking around.  And spirits only know how many dots he’s been connecting in his head based on what Garona told him.

So…there goes my plan to bring this whole story to Garrosh.

I suppose I still could.  Even considering that he’s suspicious now, predisposed to assume the worst, and probably irritable even by Garrosh standards, I suppose I could still try to go to him with this.  I could lay out the whole story, and explain why I’ve been keeping these things hidden, and why I’ve been working with a human whose last mailing address was in Ironforge.  And I could detail all of this to Garrosh and hope he’ll listen with an open mind and be reasonable and even-handed in his response.

So, yeah, see?  There goes my plan to bring this whole story to Garrosh.

At least not yet.  At this point, sooner or later I’m going to have to answer to Garrosh, and when I do, the only chance I’m going to have is if have some definite, final answers to all of this – as in, problem solved, spectral assassins dealt with, Deliana long gone from Horde territory, all loose ends tied up.  I can’t leave any room for any kind of “What about X?” “Yeah, uh, still working on that” to happen.

And I have to do all this before Garrosh gets back from Pandaria.

And I also have to do this while I know I’m being watched.  Can I mention how unnerving that is, by the way?

(Hi, Garona, if you happen to be stealthed in the room right now and looking over my shoulder while I’m typing this.)

(Also, please look away for a minute while I close a few browser tabs.  Thanks.)





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

Demonology Anonymous

Posted in Words from a Scribe with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 7, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream


Now for the hard part.

I left out a few details last time about my past with the Veiled Blade, and everything that’s been going on recently.

I said before that when we killed Lord Valthalak, we took his spellbook along with the pieces of an amulet that ended up bringing the spectral assassins down on us.  But there was one more part of the spoils: a demon relic called the Nether Prism, a crystal that could be used, among other things, to focus fel energies and dominate the will of demons.  I was a warlock back in those days, and I arranged to have the prism included as part of our deal with Malkorok.  I wanted to see how much the Prism could be used to augment my powers.

I thought I could handle it.  I thought wrong.

The Prism magnified the power of my spells for sure, and for brief windows of time I could use it to control powerful demons.  At least more powerful than the dime-a-dozen ones that your garden variety warlocks can summon.  In more powerful hands than mine, I suppose it could have been used on even greater ones.  But if there’s one thing I learned, it was that I was nowhere near warlock enough to master the energies that flowed through that crystal and keep them under control.

It became pretty clear to me that I couldn’t afford to keep toying around with the Prism.  The problem was, though, that it wasn’t going to be as simple as sticking it in the back of the sock drawer and forgetting about it.  The Nether Prism radiated fel energies.  Demons were drawn to it.  And using its magic to deal with the demons when they turned up would just make it radiate more.

As if life wasn’t already too complicated, it was at this point that I learned Valthalak’s spectral assassins were making short work of the rest of the Veiled Blade.  I couldn’t keep taking my chances running around from place to place alone.  So I turned to Thrall.  He offered me sanctuary in Orgrimmar; all he asked was that I be on hand to aid the Warchief when needed.  I only ever told him the barest details about my past.  I never said a word about the Nether Prism.  Thrall was only barely willing to tolerate the presence of warlocks in Orgrimmar at all, given the orcs’ history; I couldn’t imagine he would have been willing to take me in if he’d known the whole story.  It’s hardly a coincidence that that was when I abandoned demonology altogether and took up shamanism.  I wasn’t about the bring dishonor upon the man who’d given me a safe haven, or overstay my welcome.

So, the Nether Prism had to go.  In the last days before I moved to Orgrimmar, I traveled to Darkwhisper Gorge in Winterspring.  Hidden away in a cave there was an imp named Vi’el, a collector of relics and exotic items.  I passed the Prism off onto him and hoped he wouldn’t realize what he had on his hands.  I know looking back that it probably wasn’t the wisest move in the world, but at that point I just wanted the blasted thing off my hands.  So I left it with Vi’el, and went on to Orgrimmar to begin my new life.  And started working out ways to deal with the spectral assassins before they came knocking on my door.

For a while, it worked.  I thought that chapter was done.  But as often ends up being the case around here, life still had one more surprise epilogue waiting.



As soon as the spectral assassins attacked me in the Drag, I knew what they were and where they were from.  Even with Ji fighting by my side, they were able to wear me down fairly quickly; Ji kept fending them off as best he could while I watched for an opening to pop back up.  That was the point when we had one more surprise guest, this time a face from the past that was actually welcome: Deliana.  She’d stealthed her way into Orgrimmar to come looking for me, and after she helped Ji and I fight off the assassins, she snuck back with us to my house to compare notes.

The notes weren’t good.  Something had stirred Valthalak’s spirit; I remember when he’d been laid to rest the first last time, the adventurers I’d sent mentioned him saying something about things being settled “for now,” but I didn’t really give it much thought at the time.  Now, though, he was awake again and sending out his assassins.  Only this time, it wasn’t over the amulet; it was over the Nether Prism.

From Deliana’s perspective, this all started with Theldren turned up in Ironforge, seeking protection from Moira Thaurissan.  Something had brought the last scattered remains of Nefarian’s old minions out of hiding and sent them scrambling after anything demon-related they could find.  Deliana overheard Theldren repeating that “something’s coming,” whatever that means.  We don’t know most of the why’s and wherefores; all we do know is that whatever’s behind it has stirred Valthalak enough to make him want his old trinket back.

I wasn’t going to go to Garrosh with any of this.  I didn’t think he would have received the last bit about my past with the demons well in the best of circumstances, much less now that we’d been through that ordeal with the Burning Legion in the other timeline.  Not to mention the minor detail that I was fraternizing with a human in Deliana.  We decided that we had to keep her involvement in all of this a secret; Ji, being maybe the one person who was truly neutral to all of this, came into our confidence.

It became pretty clear pretty quickly that it wasn’t going to be possible for Deliana to stay hidden in Orgrimmar, especially after Garrosh stepped up security for me after the attack.  (At least he meant well.)  Deliana even had a run-in with Malkorok at one point when he was coming to talk to me and happened to catch her sneaking her way to my house.  She was only able to get away because Ji happened along and was able to blindside Malkorok with a Quaking Palm that stunned him.  We got Deliana out of Orgrimmar and she went into hiding in Azshara, with Ji stepping up to ferry messages back and forth between us.

Which brings us to Winterspring.  The trip to Timbermaw Hold was basically just a cover for us to meet up with Deliana in Everlook, and from there…Darkwhisper Gorge, to find Vi’el.  After the Cataclysm, most of the demons had abandoned the gorge for the underground caves, and the Twilight’s Hammer had moved in.  Now the cultists were gone and the demons were back in force – and gone crazy, fighting among themselves.  Even back in the day, there weren’t this many of them.  We could barely turn around without being jumped by another felguard or pack of felhounds.

We found Vi’el at his cave – dead.  The cave had been ransacked; half of the belongings that remained had been burned, singed with green flames.  We turned the place upside down, but it became apparent fairly quickly that there wasn’t anything to be found.

I’m not sure where we go from here.  The spectral assassins are still coming, Krog already having intercepted one just the other day.  Vi’el was the only lead we had back to the Nether Prism, which I have to figure is our only means of getting the situation under control.  Short of dying.  Again.  Deliana has gone back into hiding in Azshara while we come up with a new plan.  I think I might have one more possible stone to turn over, but it may reach the point – in fact, I suspect it will soon – when I need to give up the secrecy and bring all this to Garrosh.  Hopefully he’ll understand.

I should maybe go see about making some lemon squares.




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