Archive for dranosh

30 Days of Character Development #5: Korrina

Posted in 30 Days of Character Development with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 1, 2014 by Garrosh Hellscream

[Each week, a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players.  (See the first profile for more details.)  Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about.]

 

korrina_profile1Name:  Korrina

Occupation:  Horde military trainee, apprentice blacksmith, part-time ore miner

Class:  Warrior (arms)

Age:  15

Group affiliations:  Horde (member), Dead Peons Society (a.k.a. “DPS,” member and resident badass)

Known relativesThura (mother), Broxigar (great-uncle, deceased), Varok Saurfang (great-uncle), Dranosh Saurfang (second cousin, deceased)

First appearance:  “Being a role model is a full-time job” (first mention of trainee group), “Dead Peons Society” (first mention of DPS by name), “Buried treasure” (first full, named appearance)

Key posts and plot points:

  • Garrosh first took on a group of high-aptitude trainees in “Being a role model is a full-time job,” and the group adopted its name in the eponymous “Dead Peons Society” after an…unfortunate incident involving a lazy and excessively fragile peon.  Korrina was part of the group from the beginning, but was not named specifically until the Krasarang Underground arc.
  • Along with many of her fellow DPS trainees, Korrina accompanied the Warchief to Pandaria and continued her training there, in part under the guidance of Mag’har blademasters Krimpatul, Burzum, and Ishi.
  • Korrina and the other trainees joined Krimpatul on an ill-fated mission to secure the Temple of the Red Crane for the Horde, beginning in “Departures.”  In “Fear leads to anger,” Garrosh learned of an Alliance victory at the temple that appeared to claim the lives of the trainees; unknown to the Warchief, Krimpatul led the trainees into hiding in a nearby system of caves, as detailed in “Reports of my demise” parts 1 and 2.
  • C13_3-2At the urging of Elder Cloudfall, Garrosh traveled to the temple grounds to investigate the trainees’ disappearance.  There, after accidentally falling into the underground caverns, he found Korrina and the rest of the DPS, in “Buried treasure.”  This post marked Korrina’s first formal appearance in the blog and the first time she’s referenced by name.  Garrosh and the trainees eventually made their escape from the caves, though not before Korrina demonstrated her badassery on some unsuspecting saurok.  (And she would have put the hurt on Varian, too, if it hadn’t been for those meddling kids Gurtash and Ruekie…)
  • For those keeping score at home, DPS members who have been named thus far are Korrina, Gurtash, Ruekie, Giska, and Kulkesh (our main players in the Krasarang story); Ruekie’s twin sister Tuekie; and Lok’osh, who was killed in the saurok cave.
  • Korrina is based on the baby arms warrior of long-time WCB co-conspirator Khizzara, author of Blog of the Treant.  Many thanks to Khizzara for letting me steal her character, and for her many contributions to her character – including a large portion of the in-character responses that follow!

In his/her own words:

Describe your relationship with your mother or your father.  Was it good?  Bad?  Were you spoiled rotten, ignored?  Do you still get along now, or no?

Well, I don’t know who my dad is.  My mom never talks about him.  I think he was killed in honorable combat like a true orc hero, but his death made mom sad so she doesn’t say much.  She doesn’t talk about my greatparents either.  They probably died in the 2nd or 3rd war?  I’m not sure… I should ask but sooooo awkward!

My mom is pretty cool though.  Good in a fight.  She’s not as famous as some of my relatives, though…

Mom was a pretty good mom, I guess.  She had to go off and fight and stuff when I was small, something about how her axe was super special, and she had to go chop down an important tree or something.

…Okay, I know that sounds lame, but it was harder than it sounds, okay?

Anyway, since my dad is dead, I had to stay in the orphanage while she was gone to war.  That happens to everyone, though, so whatev.  She’s back now but I’M off at war.  I write to her, though, so she won’t worry too much.

C10_2-2What are your most prominent physical features?

My totes awesome purple mohawk!!! And my bulging biceps LOL

Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from.  If you don’t have any, is there a reason?

Only ONE!!??  I’m a WARRIOR, I’m MADE of scars!  Okay, hmm… Well, most are just nicks and cuts and things, but once, when I was pretty little, I was playing on top of the old bank in Orgrimmar, the one before Warchief Garrosh rebuilt things, and I slipped and fell and landed on the cactus in front of the door!  So all these cactus needles went through my left arm and leg and had to be removed, so I have all these evenly spaced circular scars there.  It looks pretty cool, actually.

How vain are you?  Do you find yourself attractive?

Um… I guess I’m pretty average looking??  I never thought about it much.  Looks aren’t important when you’re usually covered in dirt, sweat, and blood, anyway.

Describe your happiest memory.

This is maybe stupid, but once while mom was away my uncle Varok came to visit me at the Org orphanage — well, I guess he was visiting Warchief Thrall, but he spent a whole day with me.  He showed me some cool fighting moves and bought me ice cream and a little teddy bear (which I still have, shh!) and let me stay up real late while he told me stories.  It was a pretty chilly night (it gets cold in the desert after dark), but I didn’t want him to send me to bed, and orcs are tough, so I didn’t complain.  And it was a really clear night, so he pointed out all the major constellations in the night sky, and we watched the Blue Child come up.

What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?  Color?  Song?  Flower?

Strawberry.  Deep purple (like my hair!).  Power of the Horde by the ETC!  Twilight jasmine is pretty, and purple too!

Who do you trust?

I trust my fellow DPS with my life.  And my captain/Warchief Garrosh.  Never go into battle with people you don’t trust.

I also trust my axe, Lizardbane.  (I named it that because it’s great for killing saurok!)

Can you define a turning point in your life?  Multiples are acceptable.

- When my mom went to war and I had to live at the orphanage

- When I started warrior training

- When I went with the DPS to Pandaria

How are you with technology?  Super savvy, or way behind the times?  Letters or e-mail?

I’m not a goblin or a nerd, but yeah, I grew up with computers, so I know some tech stuff.  Letters or email?  LOL it’s not like I’m old and in my 20s or something.  I just text or whatev.  Unless it needs to be more official, and then it depends on how urgent the message is.  Birthday card for Uncle Varok?  Snail mail.  Homework?  E-mail.  And if I really need to send a message, I find that AXE to the FACE works pretty well.

What does your bed look like when you wake up?  Are the covers off on one side of the bed, are they all curled around a pillow, sprawled everywhere?  In what position do you sleep?

I sleep on my side with my hand on Lizardbane.  Usually I wrap the blanket all around myself kinda like a cocoon.  I don’t need a blanket though.  A warrior can sleep anywhere, anytime!

C14_2-2How do you react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?

I endure them without complaint.

Are you an early morning bird or a night owl?

Night owl.  Do NOT talk to me before 10 am unless you want an AXE to the FACE.

Are there any blood relatives that you are particularly close with, besides the immediate ones?  Cousins, uncles, grandfathers, aunts, etc.  Are there any others that you practically consider a blood relative?

I love my Uncle Varok, but I don’t get to see him much.  He’s stationed in Northrend.  This is going to sound dumb, but I want to be as awesome as he is someday.

My cousin Dranosh was a cool guy, but he was way older than me, so I didn’t know him much.  I was sad when he died, though.

I didn’t really meet my uncle Brox.

I guess I’m mostly on my own, but it’s okay because the DPS is like family.

What does you desk/workspace look like?  Are you neat or messy?

I keep my weapons and gear neat and tidy because well-maintained gear is gear that keeps you alive!  Otherwise… well, just… don’t look in my bags, okay?

Do you have any irrational fears?

I fear failing to protect my friends, but that seems pretty rational to me.  I’m also kinda scared of falling off buildings and landing on cactus.  Cactuses.  Cactusi?

C14_2-3What would your cutie mark be?

Your skull with my axe through it for asking something so stupid.

If you could time travel, where would you go?

Knowing the Bronze Dragonflight, it’s probably a matter of WHEN, not IF.  And I doubt I’ll have much choice in the matter of where.  But I guess I’d like to see Draenor… the old Draenor, before it shattered.  When the orc clans were still brown and strong.

What might your ideal romantic partner be?

I’ve never thought about it.  I guess… strong, confident, skilled in combat, smart (no peons please!), tough, loyal, honorable… a real ORC man, you know?

But I dunno, seems like a bad idea to fall in love.  Everyone dies young, so you either lose them, or they lose you, and your kids grow up in the orphanage.

Describe your hands.  Are they small, long, calloused, smooth, stubby?

Why?  That’s kinda creepy.  Do you have some hand fetish or something?

They’re strong and wield a big axe.  Think about that when you ask questions.

What’s your favorite comfort food, favorite vice, favorite outfit, favorite hot drink, favorite time of year, and favorite holiday?

Pulled pork.  Um, what?  I don’t think I have any of those.  My armor.  Hot cocoa!  Autumn.  Brewfest.  Um!  I mean!  WINTER VEIL.  Yes.  Winter Veil.  >.>

How do you smell?  Do you wear perfume or cologne?

Strong hands.  Big axe.  Remember?  Get away from me, you creeper!

Besides, I’m standing right in front of you.  What are you going to ask next, what I’m wearing?  When I’m standing right in front of you?

But come on, I’m a warrior!  I wear plate armor and do vigorous physical activity all day.  I don’t smell of roses.  Idiot.

 

Previous Profiles:

  1. Spazzle Fizzletrinket
  2. Ben-Lin Cloudstrider
  3. Dontrag and Utvoch
  4. Taktani

* * * * *

[A few reminders and announcements!  First and foremost, last call for the Transmogs for Shayari contest – today is the last day to send your entries to garrosh1337@gmail.com.  I’ve already gotten many great outfits, and will be looking forward to seeing a few more before the day is out.

Along those lines, I’m planning to put together a pretty big post next weekend, showing off the wide range of looks that folks have offered for everyone’s favorite half-draenei girl.  (Sorry, Garona.  Don’t come after me.)  In order to give myself room to put that post together, without derailing the blog’s main continuity too much, I’m also going to skip next week’s 30 Days profile.  I’ll have a new profile haphazardly slapped together the following week (or weekend, most likely).  Any requests, as far as whom?

And speaking of next weekend, just a reminder that we’ll be having our next installment of the SoO meta raid.  As always, all are welcome; as always, feel free to add Averry#1116 on RealID to reach me to come join the fun.

And finally, one more item to look forward to next week: It’s mailbag time!  The Warchief is already busy sorting through his mail, but he can always use more.  Use the e-mail address above or the handy form below to submit your thoughts and questions before it’s too late!]

 

30 Days of Character Development #3: D&U

Posted in 30 Days of Character Development with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 12, 2014 by Garrosh Hellscream

[Each week, a post will profile one of the blog’s many supporting players.  (See the first profile for more details.)  Since I didn’t get around to posting a profile last week, this time around I’m making up for it with a double of sorts.  Feel free to chime in with recommendations for other characters you’d like to see more about!]

 

d-and-u_profileNamesDontrag and Utvoch

Occupation:  Horde infantry soldiers (ranks: Dontrag—Sergeant; Utvoch—Scout)

AgeDontrag—31; Utvoch—29

Class:  Warrior

Group affiliations:  Horde (members), Overlord Krom’gar’s army (former members)

Known relativesDontrag—Adrasa (sister), Ug’thok (nephew); Utvoch—Krila (aunt)

Earth Online notes:  D&U play EO with mains GilbertRose (Dontrag) and SteveKravitz (Utvoch), and are members of Garrosh’s guild <Warchief>.  Utvoch briefly changed his character’s name to “Dranosh,” but was roundly criticized for the name choice, because really.  He reversed the name change shortly thereafter.  Also, guildmate Sylvanas Windrunner appears to take particular amusement in baiting the duo into arguments about which of them is which.

First appearance:  “Visiting Zoram’gar” (first mention), “Underneath the bunker” (first full transcript appearance)

Key posts and plot points:

  • An unsuspecting Garrosh first encountered Dontrag and Utvoch at Silverwind Refuge in “Visiting Zoram’gar” and dispatched them to join Overlord Krom’gar’s forces in Stonetalon.  He would later encounter them during his investigation of Krom’gar’s operations in “Underneath the bunker” – featuring D&U in supporting roles in Mokvar’s first transcript.
    (D&U can be found in-game both at Silverwind Refuge and in the Deep Reaches beneath Krom’gar’s fortress.  In the latter instance, they’re joined by goblin questgiver Blastgineer Igore; blog readers may take a certain amusement in Igore’s quest-text commentary on our cerebrally challenged friends.)
  • After Krom’gar’s “dismissal,” D&U remained stationed in Stonetalon, under the command of newly appointed Overlord Cliffwalker.  They were frequently recalled to Orgrimmar and other locations for various missions, but remained officially assigned to Cliffwalker in Stonetalon prior to their dispatch to Pandaria.
  • Evidently, according to a letter from D&U in one mailbag, Utvoch has (or had) enrolled in some extension courses, including diplomatic writing.  Academic records from the undertaking have not been released.  At one point, Utvoch convinced Dontrag to take a class with him, but the pair failed the course when they were caught handing in the same paper.  To the same instructor.  Yes, really.
  • Utvoch – sans Dontrag – traveled to old Hillsbrad, ten years in the past, with Garrosh, Mokvar, Liadrin, and Faranell during the Anti-Plague of Southshore storyline.  Like the other members of the group, Utvoch later found himself trapped between two fluctuating timelines; Garrosh and Mokvar noted, with no small degree of amusement, that this situation likely led to many confusing discussions between Utvoch and Dontrag.
  • Utvoch met and befriended Taktani in Mulgore just before she started writing in to Garrosh’s mailbag; Dontrag would meet her as well not long after.  Since Taktani’s arrival in Pandaria, Garrosh has charged D&U with keeping an eye on Tak and generally helping her navigate the complexities of the adult world, a job that Utvoch appears to have taken to somewhat more enthusiastically than Dontrag has.
  • Many people, Garrosh prime among them, frequently lose track of who is Dontrag and who is Utvoch – which is actually rather peculiar, given that they don’t really look very much alike.  Sylvanas, in guild chat, seems to understand which of them is which, but deliberately baits them into arguments on the subject anyway.
  • Regular readers will be well aware of Garrosh’s habit of giving people (often dismissive) nicknames.  Dontrag and Utvoch are among his most frequent targets; some of his favorites for them include the Dumbass Duo, Ketchup and Mustard, and the Wonder Twins.

In their own words:

dontragutvoch

Describe your relationship with your mother or your father or both.  Was it good?  Bad?  Were you spoiled rotten, ignored?  Do you still get along now, or no?

I didn’t know my father.  I think he was killed in the attack on Shattrath.  I got along pretty well with my mother, though.  She always used to tell me how I could be anything I wanted to be and accomplish anything I set my mind to.  Then I started working with the trainers and she had her first parent conference.  After that she mostly saved the thing about being whatever you want for my sister.  –Dontrag

I don’t really remember my parents.  They both died in the first war after the Dark Portal opened.  My aunt ended up raising me until I was old enough to fend for myself.  –Utvoch

How vain are you?  Do you find yourself attractive?

I guess I was a little vain for a while, during that year in the Barrens when I was trying to get away with the comb-over.  I started losing my hair early and it took a while for me to accept that I wasn’t fooling anyone.  –Dontrag

I don’t think I’m bad looking or anything, but I don’t really think I’m anything special.  Luckily I spend most of my time hanging out with this guy, so I figure I must end up looking like at least a 7.  –Utvoch

What are your most prominent physical features?

My thick, full head of hair.  –Utvoch

Screw you, Ut.  –Dontrag

Name one scar you have, and tell us where it came from.  If you don’t have any, is there a reason?

Well, I’ve got this one scar on my forehead, on the right side.  I was trying to explain which of us was which that time in Karazhan, and, um…well, the Warchief kind of got impatient and backhanded me. –Dontrag

C7_4-2

I’ve got one across my left cheek.  It’s just above the line of my beard, so I don’t think you would really notice it unless you were looking for it.  I got it when I got those people killed by that yeti in Hillsbrad because I accidentally went out of my way to kill a giant moth, and the Warchief got really mad and belted me.  Although the worst part was how he yelled.  He got that tone that he gets.  –Utvoch

Oh, yeah, I’ve got one on my face, too, right under my left eye, from that time the Warchief—  Wait a minute, when you said to name them, did you mean you wanted us to name them name them?  In that case, I think I’ll call the one under my eye Al.  –Dontrag

I think I’ll name mine Dranosh.  It means “Heart of Draenor” in orcish.  –Utvoch

Everybody knows that, you idiot.  And it’s still not cool to use that name.  Anyway, for the one on my forehead, maybe I’ll name that one The Reminder.  –Dontrag

I don’t get it.  But I love the idea of a name that’s “The” something.  I have to remember that if I ever have kids.  –Utvoch

What does your desk/workspace look like?  Are you neat or messy?

Depends on which of us used it last.  I try to keep our desk sort of organized back at the barracks.  Donty’s a slob, though.  I always end up having to pick up after him.  It’s like having a second job half the time.  –Utvoch

Depends on which of us used it last.  It’s not so much that I’m messy, really – it’s more me being lazy.  I don’t care enough to put in the extra effort to put everything in order.  And I mean, I would if I had to, but I figured out a long time ago that Ut’s compulsive enough that if I just leave it alone, he’ll do it eventually himself.  So, like, it’s not so much that I’m messy as I delegate well.  –Dontrag

Do you have any irrational fears?

Other than the Warchief getting a little madder than usual one day and stabbing me?  Fire makes me antsy.  I always get nervous around fire mages.  Or mages casting fireballs in general.  I always get this weird creepy feeling like I’m about to get torched–Dontrag

Owls freak me out.  Not even, like, giant ones, either.  Although those are even freakier.  Just plain old regular owls.  The way they stare at you, and plus, when they go “who!”, I always feel like they’re mocking me and Donty.  –Utvoch

If you could time travel, where would you go?

Probably old Hillsbrad, since I didn’t get to go last time, just to see what the big deal was.  –Dontrag

Maybe back to that time we went back to old Hillsbrad, and let Donty go instead?  That whole thing was really confusing, and I think the Warchief got even madder with me than usual, and plus there was that whole thing with the end of the world, which wasn’t a whole lot of fun.  –Utvoch

What might your ideal romantic partner be?

I won’t lie.  I’ve always had a thing for tauren women.  Can’t resist them.  (It’s the hooves.)  –Utvoch

You are a sick, sick orc, Ut.  –Dontrag

Turn of the tide

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , on October 5, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

Well THIS has been an ugly turn, let me just say.

So as I was saying last time, I wasn’t exactly thrilled that the Alliance were able to squirm out from under their imminent deaths-by-kraken, but I could still deal with that.  Their counteroffensive on Durotar got thoroughly slapped back, they lost a ton of ships, Horde losses were minimal, fine.  Would have been nice if we could have polished them off entirely, but still, worst spin you could put on our side was it was a draw, best spin you could put on theirs is they avoided a total fucking catastrophe.  All good.

But this?  This is going to stick in my craw for a while.

By the way, what the hell is a craw?

Anyway.  I gathered up some troops to bring down to Northwatch Hold, but once we were under way, I took off ahead of everyone and pushed my worg Malak to race down there as fast as she could.  Malkorok, Baine, and Vol’jin kept fairly close behind me (you should have seen Baine’s kodo’s little legs go – would have been kind of endearing if I wasn’t so pissed off at the time).  We ended up well ahead of any of the other soldiers.  And in the end, none of us made it all the way there.

I stopped at a distance once Northwatch was clearly within view.  Malkorok, Baine, and Vol’jin had the good sense to keep their distance while I took it all in.  The Alliance flag was already flying there again, and the place was swarming with water elementals.  More happy deliveries from Jaina.

How the hell did this happen?  We had every tactical advantage.  We had the Alliance on the fucking ROPES, with our foot on their throat.  And now?  Now there wouldn’t even be any point in having our troops continue on – staging an attempt to retake Northwatch would be a suicide mission at this point.

While I was fuming over all this, one of Baine’s Longrunners arrived with even more happy news – Varian was sending his fleet around to break our blockade.  Terrific.  I wasn’t interested in letting an ugly situation turn even uglier, so I sent Malkorok back with orders to have our ships withdraw and return home.  Don’t think for a minute that THAT order didn’t stick in my throat a little.

Baine turned all happy on me at that point.  He thought it meant I was giving up on taking the fight to the Alliance and pushing for the Horde to take its rightful place of dominance.  Well, I straightened him out on that count right quick.  No way in hell am I abandoning this fight – if anything, we’re stepping it up.  More troops, more ships, more weapons, more everything.  The Alliance thinks this is over?  Fuck that.  We’re just getting started.

Baine and Vol’jin didn’t much like the sound of that, and they both did a little more griping before they both turned around and headed home.

And you know something?  I’m getting goddamn sick and tired of listening to those two complain.  All through this latest campaign, I’ve been defending them to Malkorok for meaning well in their own way, and being loyal and great warriors in their own right.  But you know what?  This whole deal where I have to listen to the two of them complain every time I make a decision is getting REAL old REAL fast.  They were DEAD.  Baine was dead.  Vol’jin was dead.  Orgrimmar fucking FELL.  And I’ve had quite enough of this bullshit where I save the fucking world only to have people bitch and moan like ingrates over the way I’ve gone about doing it.

I’ve already sacrificed too much in the name of saving the Horde to let victory escape us now.  I’ve let friends die and enemies live.  I’ve thrown away my own honor doing it, because I had to.  Because it was either my honor, or the survival of the entire Horde – the entire fucking WORLD.  Dranosh Saurfang was a brother to me, but his death was the only way to save the world from flames.  It was the only way, so I killed him.  And I liked him a whole fucking lot more than I like Baine or Vol’jin.

What difference does it make if Orgrimmar burns at the hands of the demons, or the humans?  If the Alliance wins now – if the Horde doesn’t emerge triumphant and strong and in control of its destiny – then Dranosh died for nothing.  Cairne died for nothing.  Taurajo burned for nothing.  ALL of it was for NOTHING.

No.  I won’t have it.  Not while I’m Warchief.  Not on my watch.  We’ve paid too high a price already.

We’re pressing on, fighting on, and we’re not stopping, not slowing, not flinching until we win.  I promise you that, Dranosh.  In your memory.  In your honor.

For the Horde.

Same as it ever was

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taurajo.

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

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

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

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

Fluttered like shimmering white wings.

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

It didn’t help.  It wasn’t enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need something bigger.

We march tomorrow.  Theramore burns.

 

 

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

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.

Wrath of the Lich King

Posted in General, Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 16, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

Show time.

The group assembled today on the Windrunner: me, both Saurfangs, Liadrin, Edwin, Jaina, Mokvar, Dontrag, and Utvoch.  I figured the way the Scourge have swarmed through practically all of Northrend, I’d just as soon not leave anything to chance, which is why we brought so much heavy-artillery personnel.  Drok and his crew had the ship ready to go, and we set off for the Nexus in Coldarra.  Once we had the Focusing Iris, we’d head straight for Dalaran, where Jaina’s Kirin Tor friends would be ready to port us straight to the Caverns of Time.

We arrived at the Nexus and docked the ship on one of the upper ring platforms that was equipped with a teleportation orb.  One problem: the platform was swarming with Scourge – all the platforms were.  Vargul and skeletons mostly, with a couple necromancer types lurking around the back.

I’ll tell you, Mokvar was right the other day.  This really wasn’t fair.

Between me whirlwinding through skeletons by the bushel, Liadrin Diving Storming her way right through the heart of them, Jaina flame-roasting undead in bunches, and – yup – Saurfangs Young and Old cleaving down everything in sight, it didn’t take us long to clear a path to the teleportation orb.  The only down side was that those necromancers kept summoning more undead, and every so often a proto-drake would fly by and drop another damn vrykul to help keep the influx coming.

 

GARROSH:  They’re not getting anywhere, but neither are we if we just stay up here all day killing these fuckers…

The necromancers cast another summoning spell, and some hundred new skeletons appear on the platform.

LIADRIN:  <slashing by one of the vargul>  We don’t all need to be up here – you go, I’ll stay and protect the ship.

GARROSH:  You sure?  There’s still an awful lot of them.

Liadrin rushes into a cluster of vargul, dropping them all with another spinning Divine Storm.  As she finishes her follow-through, she lands on one knee, slamming the Ashbringer down onto the platform floor; a shimmering flash of yellow-white light bursts from the Ashbringer and shoots out in a horizontal shockwave in all directions.  The light rips through the skeletons and sends them spilling onto the floor, burning with holy fire.  Still on one knee, Liadrin tilts her head up at Garrosh.

LIADRIN:  I’m not worried.

Jaina runs to a clear area near the gunship and starts channeling a spell.  A glowing blue runic circle begins to appear on the floor beneath her.

JAINA:  I’m placing a portal marker here.  Once we have the Focusing Iris, I’ll be able to teleport us directly back.

Several more vargul drop onto the platform.  While Liadrin engages them, several val’kyr and gargoyles descend down over the Windrunner.

SAURFANG:  <rushing back to the gunship and cleaving through gargoyles>  I’ll stay back as well to help guard the ship.

MOKVAR:  Well now you’re just running up the score on them.

SAURFANG:  The rest of you – go!

DRANOSH:  You all heard the man.  Let’s get moving.

 

We took the teleportation orb into the Nexus.  The sight that greeted us froze us all in our tracks.  Around the circular room and down every hall, the ground was littered with the lifeless bodies of blue dragons.  We all just stared for a minute while the sight sunk in.  I think it hit Jaina the hardest, what with her probably having had some dealings with the blues over the years.  She knelt down over one of the dead dragons and put a hand over its face.

 

JAINA:  This… I know her.  This is… Her name is…was Kirygosa.  She was a daughter of Malygos…

UTVOCH:  Wait, when you said there were going to be a lot of dragons here, I thought you meant they were going to be alive.

GARROSH:  …Seriously?

FARANELL:  That’s got to be an act, right?  I mean he can’t possibly really be that stupid.

MOKVAR:  Dontrag and Utvoch: raising the bar on lowering the bar, since the dawn of time.

DONTRAG:  Hey, I didn’t say anything!

GARROSH:  Yet.

DRANOSH:  <surveying the halls>  Most of the…  <glances back at Jaina, then lowers his voice slightly>  …most of the blood seems fresh.  Whoever did this did it fairly recently.

GARROSH:  Probably still nearby.

Jaina stands slowly, still looking down at the bodies.

JAINA:  Kalecgos considered her one of his dearest friends…

DRANOSH:  The next time you see him, you can tell him all about the world of pain we brought down on the ones who did this to her.

GARROSH:  It has to be the Scourge, based on upstairs.  Not sure why they’d be coming after the blue dragons, though.

JAINA:  At this point, they’re one of the only major powers left between them and all of Northrend…  It was only a matter of time before they struck here.

GARROSH:  That’s the thing, though – yeah, they have the Horde and Alliance on the ropes, but why wouldn’t they finish them off first, THEN take on the dragons?  The Lich King has to know he’s got the upper hand.  Why divide his efforts?

DRANOSH:  Maybe he wants to finish both off quickly?

GARROSH:  All the time we were up here fighting him, did you ever know Arthas to be impatient?

JAINA:  He’s not.  Anymore.

DRANOSH:  <shrugs>  Either way.  I am the impatient type – let’s go find that Focusing Iris and let it be finished.

 

We made our way deeper into the Nexus, finding more slain dragons all the way.  As we worked our way down a long, descending passageway, we could hear sounds of combat, and reptilian cries of pain.  I ordered Dontrag and Utvoch to make sure they kept Edwin safe under pain of so-much-worse-than-death-your-admittedly-limited-brains-would-melt-just-trying-to-imagine-it.  The bottom of the passage was dark and filled with shadows.  As the floor leveled out from the end of our descent, we turned a corner and came to a doorway.

The room was large and circular, with crystalline patterns in the walls and floor, like so many of the other rooms here.  In the center of the room, hovering in the air of its own accord, was the Focusing Iris – an enormous blue orb, glowing with arcane power.  On the far side of the room, four humanoids – a human, a tauren, and a pair of dwarves – all wearing armor like that of a death knight, stood over bodies of blue dragons.  More bodies filled the room, and the air reeked with the smell of draconic blood.  Two more death knights, a draenei and a troll, flanked the doorway on either side, and as we came around the corner they called out a warning.

And as the sentries cried out, in the center of the room, out from behind the Focusing Iris stepped Tirion Fordring.  Covered in spiked black armor, wielding a runeblade, eyes glowing a deathly pale blue.  I’ll tell you, I was never crazy about Tirion, but this was still horrible to see.  Even Tirion deserved better than this.

 

TIRION:  <grinning broadly>  Ah, how serendipitous!  It appears fate has set us all upon a parallel venture, and I find myself reunited with personages of no small familiarity.  I greet you all, good orcs and humans, and welcome you to the curtain’s rise on the final act of this grand endeavor!

GARROSH:  By the spirits…

Tirion gestures to his minions.

DRANOSH:  What?

Tirion’s Deathbringers rush at the group, blades poised.

GARROSH:  He still loves to talk.

Jaina casts a Cone of Cold that slows the death knights’ approach.

DRANOSH:  <shrugs>  Time to do what we do.  Lok’tar!

GARROSH:  For the Horde!

DONTRAG and UTVOCH:  For the Horde!

MOKVAR:  For the Horde!

JAINA:  Um, actually…

Jaina exchanges a shrug with Faranell.

Okay.  Whatever.

Garrosh, Dranosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch rush forward to engage the Deathbringers, and the two groups battle back and forth, with Tirion lurking by the Focusing Iris, watching and taunting.

TIRION:  Good, my glorious vassals, unleash your fury and show these intruders the fate that awaits those who would interfere with the work of our dread lord the Lich King!  Woe be to any who stand against us!  Their ruined bodies shall be the latest paving the way to our inevitable dominion over this world!

GARROSH:  <exchanging blows with the tauren>  The hell are you even HERE for, Tirion?  What do you fuckers even want with the Focusing Iris?

TIRION:  Well could I ask you the same, young Hellscream!  But as it will profit you naught, I will tell you, so that you might meet your end knowing the full scope of your failure, and indeed the hand you and your ilk have had in bringing forth this very hour!

DRANOSH:  <aside>  That’s it, get him monologuing…

GARROSH:  <aside>  He’s going to be monologuing anyway, might as well get him going on something useful maybe…

Dranosh and Garrosh continue pushing back the tauren and human.  Dontrag and Utvoch spar with the two dwarves, aided by chain lightning from Mokvar, while Jaina launches a seething fireball that incinerates the troll.

TIRION:  Did you truly believe your ill-fated ploy to deny the Lich King your precious Sunwell would go unanswered?  That the master of the Scourge would be halted by your sad, trifling magician’s tricks?  You merely delayed the inevitable; and now, with the Focusing Iris in hand, the Lich King’s mightiest seers will shatter the meddlesome bubble conjured by that poor, doomed, suddenly so very solitary dragon Kalecgos—

Jaina lets loose another pair of fireballs, finishing the dwarven death knights fighting Dontrag and Utvoch.

JAINA:  Kalcgos’ flight had no part in this war, Tirion!  The old you – the real you – he would be sickened to see what you’ve done to these innocents!

TIRION:  Oh, Lady Proudmoore, do not be so naïve as to think the blues innocent – or yourself.  It was Kalecgos who chose to throw in his lot with your kind and aid in your foolish charade at the Sunwell, and all of you who interfered in the Scourge’s march.  The Lich King was content to leave these pitiable lizards be – for now.  It was you who forced his hand, you who altered his plans, you who made the Focusing Iris a necessary implement—

DRANOSHSpirits, he likes to talk…

GARROSH:  Dude, you have NO IDEA.

TIRION:  —and you, all of you, who helped bring this fate upon the Blue Dragonflight today!  From their blood shall flow the coming of a new age for this world!  From their deaths shall be forged a new future, bathed in carnage!

JAINA:  <gathering a fiery glow in her hands>  You want carnage?  Arthas will have more blood than he ever bargained for!

Jaina unleashes a massive fireball that tears through the draenei death knight and badly burns the tauren and human – whom Dranosh and Garrosh quickly finish off – and hurls Tirion back against the far wall.

DRANOSH:  Remind me not to piss her off.

GARROSH:  No shit, right?

Tirion pulls himself up and faces the group.

TIRION:  You all shall pay dearly for—

DRANOSH:  <charging in and knocking Tirion a few steps back>  Pro tip, Tirion – when your boys are taking it on the chin, might be a good idea to stop running your mouth for a minute and help them out.

Garrosh joins in, and Tirion begins scrambling to deflect both orcs’ blows.

TIRION:  You think I fear you, boy?  Through the Lich King I have seen power the likes of which you cannot comprehend!  By his will I have cast off death itself, and risen anew, ascended, greater than I might ever have dreamed in my former, paltry, limited existence!  You do not know what you trifle with, you—

As Dranosh and Garrosh unleash a flurry of blows from both sides, Jaina singes Tirion with a surge of flame, then freezes him in place with a frost nova, throwing off his footing.

GARROSH:  Tirion…

Garrosh locks one of his axes in a parry with Tirion, then drops his second axe from his free hand and swings his fist under the runeblade and into Tirion’s gut.

Shut.

Garrosh breaks the parry, forcing Tirion’s blade hand to swing to one side, where Dranosh hacks it away at the wrist.

The fuck.

Garrosh and Dranosh bring their axes down from either side, slamming vicious into the base of Tirion’s neck.

UP!

Tirion slumps lifeless to the floor.

JAINA:  <looking down sadly at the body>  You have been missed, old friend.  May your spirit finally find its rest now.

MOKVAR:  Okay, let’s get what we came for and go.

JAINA:  Let me get it into a more manageable form…

Jaina holds her hands out to the Focusing Iris and begins channeling beams of arcane magic into it.  Slowly, the Focusing Iris shrinks until it has been reduced to a shimmering blue sphere about a foot in diameter, hovering in the air.

There…now we just need to—

Jaina is interrupted by a shadowy, purple tendril of magic that lashes out at her from the doorway and yanks her back toward it.  Her body flies backward through the air and – with a hideous slicing sound – into a blade held out from the dark hallway:

Frostmourne.

As Dranosh steps in to catch the falling Focusing Iris, the Lich King strides into the room, Jaina’s body still impaled on the runebalde.

LICH KING:  Impressive…

The Lich King shakes Frostmourne, dropping Jaina’s body to the ground.

Most impressive.

UTVOCH:  Okay, this isn’t so bad, there’s just one of him against all of us…

The Lich King drives Frostmourne’s blade into the floor, releasing a shockwave that knocks the group back against the far wall of the room.  As they recover, the Lich King hold Frostmourne aloft and begins channeling a spell.

LICH KING:  Now then…a further test…

Crackling purple energy shoots out of Frostmourne in all directions.  Slowly, the dozens of dragon corpses around the room begin to rise, eyes glowing a dull blue, bodies withered and gaunt.

GARROSH:  Oh…shit…

DONTRAG:  You really have to keep your mouth shut, Ut.

The nearest few reanimated dragons rush at them.  Garrosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch step in to intercept them and start to fight them back, with Mokvar and Faranell casting spells at them from behind.

The Lich King continues channeling.  After a few seconds, Jaina’s body rises from the floor; her hair has turned white save for a single blonde streak, and her eyes shimmer with a lifeless blue glow.  She looks around the room, then faces the Lich King.

JAINA:  A-Arthas…?

LICH KING:  I have missed you…my Queen.

Jaina grins hideously, turns, and unleashes an enormous fireball that incinerates two of the dragons on its way toward Faranell.

DONTRAG:  Doc!

UTVOCH:  Look out!

Dontrag lunges at Faranell while Utvoch rushes in from the opposite side.  Dontrag shoves Faranell out of the fireball’s path, just before the flames reduce both him and Utvoch to smoldering heaps of ash.

DRANOSH:  Edwin!  Jaina was our ride out.  That’s your job now – port us out of here, and fast!

FARANELL:  But— I’m not that powerful a mage!

Dranosh shoves the Focusing Iris into Faranell’s hands; a bluish white glow shimmers over his body.

DRANOSH:  You are now.  Fire it up!

Garrosh and Mokvar – both fighting dragons – back up toward Dranosh and Faranell.  Faranell closes his eyes, mutters an incantation, and teleports the group away in a blinding flash.

 

We reappeared up on the ring platform where we’d docked – a few yards off from Jaina’s targeting rune, but hey, I’m not going to nitpick over a clutch save from Edwin.  When we appeared, we were greeted by the sight of an enormous pile of Scourge corpses that formed a hill leading up to the Windrunner.  Dozens of vargul, hundreds of ghouls and skeletons, val’kyr, geists, a couple frost wyrms…and sitting on top of the pile were Liadrin and Saurfang, taking turns drinking from a waterskin.

 

LIADRIN:  <looks up at them>  What kept you?

DRANOSH:  We had guests.

GARROSH:  Come on, everyone get on the ship.

SAURFANG:  Where are the others?  Lady Proudmoore, and the…cerebrally inexpansive duo?

GARROSH:  They didn’t make it.

SAURFANG:  What happened?

DRANOSH:  Arthas is here.

LIADRIN:  By the Light… Get on board, and quickly!

GARROSH:  What happened to you not being worried?

LIADRIN:  I wasn’t.

DRANOSH:  Fire it up, Captain!  Top speed to Dalaran!

The group boards the Windrunner, which disembarks from the platform.  After a moment, the ship shakes and creaks, then begins to slide slowly backwards.

DRANOSH:  Um, Drok?  I don’t think I said anything about reverse.

DROK:  We’re still on full ahead, sir, I don’t—

GARROSH:  Uh, I think you guys might want to have a look at this…

They turn to look back at the ring platform, where the Lich King now stands, channeling a dark purple band of energy from his hand that grips the gunship, and using it to slowly tug the ship back toward the Nexus.

MOKVAR:  He’s— he’s death-gripping the ship!  How is he death-gripping the whole ship?!

DRANOSH:  Drok, this would be a good time to give the engines a little extra – we’ve got to get out of here!

DROK:  I’m giving them everything she’s got, sir!  I can’t change the laws of physics!

Saurfang stands at the railing, watching as the Lich King slowly drags the gunship back toward him.  Saurfang looks back at Dranosh, then to Garrosh.

SAURFANG:  He’s looked out for you since you were children.

Garrosh gives a quizzical look, then nods.

Look out for him now.

Saurfang turns and launches himself off the deck, toward the platform below.

FOR THE HORDE!

Saurfang barrels into the Lich King and they both crash onto the floor.  With the Lich King’s death grip broken, the gunship lurches forward again and starts to pull away from the Nexus.

DRANOSHFather!  No!

Garrosh intercepts Dranosh as he rushes to the edge of the ship and pulls him back.

GARROSH:  Get us OUT of here, Captain!

DRANOSH:  <spinning back toward Drok, still in Garrosh’s grip>  No!  Turn us around, Drok, we have to—

Garrosh spins Dranosh back to face him.

GARROSHYou know what he’s doing!  DON’T LET IT BE FOR NOTHING!

Dranosh stops struggling.  Garrosh releases him, and as the gunship continues its escape, he walks to the railing and looks down at the platform, where the Lich King knocks Saurfang away from him.

LICH KING:  Foolish old orc!  You dare stand against me?  Do you know how many of your kind I’ve slain?

SAURFANG:  You…murdered…children.  <draws his axe>  You answer to Saurfang now!

Saurfang charges the Lich King furiously, cleaving and slashing with his axe.  The Lich King parries with Frostmourne, and the two grapple back and forth as the platform shrinks from view.

 

I’m writing from the Windrunner now.  We should reach Dalaran soon.  I’ll update again when I can, if the news is good.  If it isn’t, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here to keep updating.

In the meantime, we continue on our way to Dalaran.

In silence.

 

 

[Header image of the Nexus provided by regular reader and commenter ZugZug.  Gunship image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click here to see the souped-up Postcard version!  Both images used with permission and many thanks.]

Days of future past

Posted in General, Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 14, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

The trip from Kalimdor to Northrend isn’t exactly a short one, but normally it’s never really felt long to me.  This time, though, it felt like it took forever.  A short way into the flight, I took Edwin down below deck to talk to him alone and laid out the story for him – how his other self had managed to mess up the timelines, and how that’s led to everything being a disaster in this world.  The worst part is that he barely responded to any of it.  Just sat there, listening, staring at the floor most of the way though.

I was expecting him to get angry or argue with me or something when I told him what we needed to do, but he didn’t say a word.  Just sat there, almost-but-not-quite nodded…I guess it shouldn’t surprise me.  It’s an awful lot to get dropped on you all at once, and then that’s without it even being YOU that’s responsible, in a way at least.  And without it being your BROTHER whose meant-to-happen death is the lynchpin to the whole damn thing.

Liadrin was there to greet us at the Argent Vanguard.  The place was much more heavily fortified than the last time I’d been there.  Over the last several months, Horde and Alliance forces had been pushed back from the Borean Tundra and Dragonblight, and so now most of the combined troops have been consolidated here.  The base was expanded and reinforced, with more buildings, ramparts, a keep for the command base, a docking tower for airships…really impressive, actually, until you stop to think what made it necessary.

When we arrived, the base was in the middle of fending off an attack by Nerubian tunnelers.  Nothing to worry too much about, according to Liadrin – these Nerubians crop up every so often and are more of a nuisance than anything.  Fitting enough for a big ol’ batch of cockroaches.

From the docking tower, we could see Saurfang and Bolvar leading some of the troops around and beating the bugs back.  While Drok and his crew tended to the Windrunner, a couple of Liadrin’s aides took Jaina, Faranell, Dontrag, and Utvoch down to their temporary quarters to get settled.  The rest of us stood on the docking platform, watching the skirmish below.

 

DRANOSH:  Definitely not enough of them to really get anywhere.  Why even bother?

LIADRIN:  To be a disturbance, most likely.

GARROSH:  Why waste soldiers – or, well, bugs – just to annoy your enemy?

LIADRIN:  Think of it from the Lich King’s perspective.  You have an effectively unlimited supply of minions.  They don’t need to eat or sleep or rest.  You enemy does.  Why wouldn’t you use some of those minions to disrupt your enemies’ sleep and stop them ever settling in for a meal in comfort?

GARROSH:  You know, when you put it like that, it’s actually kind of creepy smart.

DRANOSH:  I think I’m going to go down and give the good guys a hand.  It’s been a while since I’ve been on the winning side of a fight.  <smirks at Garrosh and gestures toward Saurfang below>  Besides, can’t let the old man get too big a lead on me.  You want in?

GARROSH:  Go ahead.  I’m going to stay up here and get caught up with Liadrin.

DRANOSH:  Up to you.

Dranosh leaps down from the docking tower.  Liadrin and Mokvar move to either side of Garrosh.  They continue to watch Dranosh while they talk.

LIADRIN:  Have you told him?

GARROSH:  No.

MOKVAR:  Are you going to?

GARROSH:  <pauses for a long moment>  If I did, do you think there’s any chance at all that he would turn back?

MOKVAR:  <shakes head>  No.

GARROSH:  Then let him go to the end not having to know who killed him.

 

We watched the battle for a while – Mokvar and I filling in some of the extra details on the Great Time FUBAR for Liadrin – until it finally wound down and the Argent troops returned to their stations.  Liadrin and the others went into the keep to see about squeezing in a meal uninterrupted, but I wasn’t feeling very hungry, so I stayed outside and figured I’d take Mortimer out to stretch his wings some.

There was an orc soldier at the stables tending to another wyvern when I went to get Mortimer.  We got to talking while I saddled Mortimer up.  Guy name of Gar’lok.  Turns out he was one of the soldiers at the Wrathgate.  He asked a million questions about the demon attack on Orgrimmar, but above all he was worried about whether his kid had gotten out in time.  Something told me not to ask, but I couldn’t help it.  His kid was a boy.  Named Gurtash.  Of course.  I wrapped the conversation up quickly and took Mortimer out.

We circled around the base a few times, then as we were flying over the keep, I spotted Mokvar and Edwin standing outside, looking over the base.  I brought Mortimer down and joined them.

 

GARROSH:  Everyone still inside?

MOKVAR:  Back in their quarters now, mostly.  Liadrin was going to meet with Bolvar.  I think she’s going to have him take charge of the base while she’s away, once we’re ready to go.

GARROSH:  What about Saurfang?

MOKVAR:  I think he’s assuming he’s coming with us.  Can’t blame him, really – how often does he get to go on a mission with his son?

GARROSH:  This will be his last one, if we manage to pull this off.

MOKVAR:  You know we will.  Especially now.  I mean, come on, bringing two Saurfangs?  That’s not even fair.

GARROSH:  Heh.  Let’s hope.  <looks to Faranell>  You hanging in there okay, Doc?  You’ve been pretty quiet.

Edwin stares silently into the mountains.

Doc?

Edwin continues staring wordlessly.

Edwin?

Edwin turns to face Garrosh, still not speaking.

Look, I know you’ve had an awful lot dropped on you today, so I can see why you might be having trouble wrapping your head around it all.

FARANELL:  <looking down at the ground>  I’m not doing it.

GARROSH:  Um…

MOKVAR:  Oh boy…

GARROSH:  You WHAT?

FARANELL:  I said I’m not doing it.

GARROSH:  You understand this whole thing kind of HINGES on you, right?

FARANELL:  Yes, I do.  I also understand that if we do what you were talking about doing, it means Patrick is going to die.  Hell, not even just die – what did you say? – he gets turned into some undead mastermind working for the Scourge?  He doesn’t even get to rest in peace!

GARROSH:  I know, I know, it’s wrong and it’s awful and it’s not fair, but it’s the only way to set things right in this world.

FARANELL:  And who decides what’s “right,” Garrosh?  You?  I’ve heard people talking – here and in the future – and I don’t exactly get the sense that you have this great track record for deciding what’s “right.”

GARROSH:  Edwin, this isn’t what was supposed to happen.  Hell, you were in Orgrimmar – did you not see those demons overrunning the place?

FARANELL:  You also said back in my time – where I came from – the Scourge was going to overrun Lordaeron.  So if you’re so fired up to go change the past, why don’t we just go stop that from happening, too?

GARROSH:  Because like it or not, the Scourge invasion was what was supposed to happen, it’s what ALWAYS happened—

FARANELL:  It always happened to you, Garrosh!  Why is it okay to fix your present and not mine?

GARROSH:  Things only ever happened like this because the past got MESSED with, Edwin!

FARANELLYour past!  Not mine – these events you’re talking about that “had to happen” – they haven’t happened yet for me!  They’re my future!  Who the hell says Patrick wasn’t “supposed” to be alive?

GARROSH:  He’s only alive because you – he – the OTHER you went back and mucked things up so he WOULD!

FARANELL:  So what?  Good!  I’m glad he did!

GARROSH:  Edwin, that’s exactly the kind of shit that an ENTIRE DRAGONFLIGHT devoted their lives to preventing!

FARANELL:  Well—

GARROSH:  You can’t go back and change the past just because you don’t like how it turned out!

FARANELL:  I—

GARROSH:  You see how things play out in the future so you decide you’re going to go back and prevent it?  Nothing good can come out of that, Edwin, it—

FARANELLDon’t go to Pandaria!

GARROSH:  …

MOKVAR:  Oh…crap.

GARROSH:  Did…you not hear ANYTHING I was just saying?!

FARANELL:  What, you don’t like a little tinkering with your future?  I thought that’s what we did around here.

GARROSH:  What happened with Patrick HAPPENED.  And if we don’t set it right… Look, I get that you care about him, but look around.  You’ve got to realize people are DYING because of this!

FARANELL:  You’re asking me to kill my brother!

Garrosh punches Faranell, knocking him down.  While Faranell gathers himself, Garrosh stands over him.

GARROSH:  Listen to me carefully because I’m only going to say this once.  I get that you’re scared.  I get that you’re upset.  You have a right to be.  I am too.  And if you want to be angry at me for laying all this on you, you want to hate me, you go ahead.  <glares at Faranell a moment, collecting himself>  But don’t you DARE stand there and talk to me like you’re the only one losing a brother.

FARANELL:  <head hanging>  It’s…it’s not right…

GARROSH:  You’re right.  It’s not.  <looks around>  There are a lot of things that aren’t right.  <looks back to Faranell>  I think you need to see some more of them.

 

I pulled him back up, brought him to the stables, and had the flight master set him up with a gryphon.  Then we took off and flew a path around Icecrown – taking care more than once to steer clear of the frost wyrms that seemed to be in flight nearly everywhere.

We flew over Ymirheim, where legions of vrykul were marching, training, lining up in squads.  We flew over the Shadow Vault, back in Scourge hands, where saronite from the Weeping Quarry was being used to build massive siege engines.  We flew over the front gates of Icecrown Citadel, surrounded by thousands of flesh giants and colossal skeletons.  One battalion after another of zombies and ghouls.  Gargoyles enough to blacken the sky, until I got the bright idea that we maybe didn’t want to be flying around out there.  On the way back to the Argent Vanguard, we flew over the Broken Front, where an army of Scourge was gathering and marching east, while frost wyrms circled over Scourgeholm.

We landed back at the base, on a hill where the Argent people had put up a large tent that served as a makeshift chapel.  From where we stood, we could see the mountains beyond the Breach, and part of the field swarming with gathering undead.

 

GARROSH:  This is what we’re facing.  You know those Scourge I told you about, the ones that wiped out Lordaeron?  They weren’t even a fraction of this.  And they’re coming.

FARANELL:  Patrick… Right now, Patrick is safe in Thunder Bluff.

GARROSH:  Right.  He’s safe in Thunder Bluff NOW.  Before that he was safe in Hearthglen.  And safe in Andorhal.  How long before he runs out of places to be safe?

Faranell lowers his head quietly.

Liadrin’s people will fight to the last person to hold them back.  I’ve got no doubt of that.  But sooner or later, it WILL be the last person.  And then all of this gets unleashed on the rest of the world.

FARANELL:  I just don’t want him to die.

GARROSH:  Doc, it doesn’t make me any happier to tell you this than it makes you to hear it.  But Patrick is going to die.  The only question is, how many others are you going to let die with him?  How many would he LET you?

Faranell paces around for a moment, occasionally looking back toward the marching Scourge, then walks up to the entrance to the chapel tent.  From inside, Argent Confessor Paletress steps to the opening to meet him.

FARANELL:  You’re the confessor?

PALETRESS:  <nods>  I’m Argent Confessor Paletress.  Do you need to unburden your spirit?

FARANELL:  Yes, Confessor.

PALETRESS:  Tell me what it is you’ve done, friend.

Faranell looks past the Breach as waves of Scourge gather, frost wyrms circling in the sky above them.

FARANELL:  I couldn’t even begin to tell you what I’ve done, Confessor.

PALETRESS:  I’m sure it’s not as bad as you believe.  Guilt often weighs on us far more heavily than the true weight of our sins.

FARANELL:  It doesn’t matter.  What I’ve done isn’t what I’ve come to confess.

PALETRESS:  What do you wish to tell me, then, my friend?

Faranell watches a frost wyrm tearing down the tower at Crusader’s Pinnacle in the distance.  He looks down and rubs his hands over his face, then finally lifts his head, not quite returning his eyes to Paletress.

FARANELL:  I’m going to kill my brother.

 

“The Light does not abandon its champions.” If only she knew.

The parting of ways

Posted in General, Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 12, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

Dranosh and the others arrived with the Windrunner this morning, along with a surprise – Jaina Proudmoore.  The message I’d sent to Dranosh in Theramore said there’s a chance to fix things but we need to get the Focusing Iris from Northrend, and when Jaina heard that part, she volunteered – check that, insisted – she join the party.  Imagine my delight.  Still, the enemy of my enemy, I guess.

So far this morning, we’ve had an uncharacteristic run of mostly good news.  Based on the head counts, most of the civilians got out of Orgrimmar in time.  Military losses were heavy – in addition to Vol’jin and Zaela, it turns out Nazgrim didn’t make it out – but still not as disastrous as they could have been.  Dranosh brought the remaining civilians – Horde and Theramore alike – with him along with a few support officers.  Thunder Bluff is further from the combat zone, it’s separated by natural barriers, and its position on these mesas makes it easier to defend.  There really isn’t anywhere SAFE to tuck away the civilians anymore, but this is the safest of unsafe options.

The better news is that a couple hours into scouring the city this morning, Utvoch earned his keep and spotted Edwin over on the Spirit Rise.  He’s spooked as all hell, no surprise – he got dropped into this world just in time for the attack on Orgrimmar, without warning or context or any friends from the Caverns of Time to help make sense of it for him.  I’ll try to start filling in some of the blanks for him on the way to Northrend.  Gotta, say, I’m not looking forward to explaining how his brother fits into all this.

Other than loading up the Windrunner with a few supplies, there’s just one piece of business to tend to.

 

CAIRNE:  I understand the honor you show me today, Warchief, and I will strive to be worthy of it.  As I have watched over the tauren, so too will I watch over the people of the Horde.

DRANOSH:  I’m hopeful that we’ll return soon successfully.  But if we don’t, I need to be sure that our people will be left in good hands.  Now they will.  May the spirits guide you, Cairne.  Let everything you do be done for the Horde.

Dranosh salutes Cairne.  Cairne responds in kind.

They’re yours now, Warchief Bloodhoof.  Lead them well.  Aka’Magosh – for the Horde!

CAIRNE:  For the Horde.

ALL ASSEMBLED:  For the Horde!

DRANOSH:  <clasping Cairne’s hand>  I hate to abdicate and run, but I have a few last preparations to make before we go.

CAIRNE:  I understand, Warchief.

DRANOSH:  <grins and walks away>  Call me Dranosh.

Dranosh walks off.  Garrosh approaches Cairne.

GARROSH:  I should probably go help him in a minute.

CAIRNE:  You have important work ahead of you, I know.

GARROSH:  <glancing around and nodding>  So many things that aren’t what they should be.

CAIRNE:  Overlord, if I may offer a word of counsel?

Garrosh nods.

Do not trouble yourself so deeply over what should be.  It is something I have noticed in you, Garrosh – your readiness to point to what should be, and recoil against the world for failing to be so.  As if it has wronged you.  It is, I suspect, the source of so much of your anger, your impatience, your…

GARROSH:  <faintly grinning>  Are you saying I have a temper?

CAIRNE:  You’ve heard this before?

Garrosh chuckles.

I merely mean to say, Garrosh, that there is little to be gained in fretting away one’s life with should be.  “I should be higher rank by now.”  “This land should be ours.”  “He should agree.”  “She should love me.”  There is no should be; there is only is.  And there is no deeper well of discontent, no darker shadow to impoverish our lives as they are, then a misguided sense of should be to nag at us by false compare.  “Should be”: so simple a phrase to nourish so many agonies of the spirit.

Cairne hesitates a moment, then tilts his head with the hint of a smile.

Pardon me, I prattle on.  You’ll forgive an old man his ramblings.

GARROSH:  You wear it a lot better than Tirion ever did.  <pauses, then grins sadly>  I think I should have listened to you more.

CAIRNE:  There you go again.  <smiles>  But you are listening now.

GARROSH:  Well, hopefully you’ll let one more “should be” slide.  <looks up at Cairne a moment, then offers his hand>  Dranosh made the right choice.  You should be Warchief.

CAIRNE:  <gripping the hand>  And so I am.  In this, for once, you need not torment yourself, my young friend.

Garrosh looks around briefly.

GARROSH:  I don’t know if we’ll be back here again.

CAIRNE:  Nonsense.  I have every confidence you will be successful, Garrosh.

GARROSH:  <looks at Cairne uncomfortably>  Still.  Just in case.  <stares at him a moment more>  I don’t think I’ve told you that I admire you.  If you don’t see me again…know that honor and respect for you went with me to the end of my days.

CAIRNE:  <nods slowly>  May they be many, Overlord.  And thank you.

 

I left Cairne and made my way over to the docking station on the Spirit Rise to meet Dranosh.  When I got there, he was standing on the edge of the rise, overlooking western Mulgore, and in the middle of a rather pointed discussion with…ahem…a familiar face.

 

DRANOSH:  I understand your concerns, General, but I’m confident in Warlord Cromush’s forces at the new front.

KROM’GAR:  I simply don’t see the wisdom of taking one of our newer gunships out of the fight in order to go on – I’m sorry – some fool’s errand in Northrend.

DRANOSH:  Overlord Hellscream assures me—

KROM’GAR:  Overlord Hellscream, as far as we know, may simply be putting as much distance as possible between himself and death by inventing some secret mission to fly off to!

DRANOSH:  I’m going as well, Krom’gar.  Are you going to accuse me of cowardice, too?

KROM’GAR:  Begging your pardon, sir, but—

DRANOSH:  Let me be frank, General.  With the state of affairs in Kalimdor, one more gunship will not make much difference here.  But one gunship in Northrend might be able to put an end to this mess before it’s even started.

KROM’GAR:  But how, sir?  Why do you even believe—

As Dranosh and Krom’gar talk, Garrosh walks over to them.  Before Krom’gar can finish his sentence, Garrosh steps up next to him and casually shoves him off the edge of the rise, sending him plummeting to the ground far below.

GARROSH:  Don’t listen to that guy.  He’s a dick.

DRANOSH:  <blinks a moment and glances over the edge>  Wow, you really don’t like him, do you?

GARROSH:  Let’s just say we have some history.  Or did.

DRANOSH:  Lucky for you I was considering the same thing when he started calling you a coward.

Garrosh looks over at the Windrunner being loaded with supplies.

GARROSH:  You know…this mission we’re going on…  I know I haven’t exactly been open about a lot of the details.  I’m figuring based on where I had to go for information that you can guess some of the reason why.  And yeah, there are some details going on here that I really can’t tell you, but you have to understand—

DRANOSH:  How long have you known me?

GARROSH:  Huh?

DRANOSH:  Since we were, what, six?  How many times has one of us saved the other’s neck?  You’re telling me we need to do this.  You think I need more than that?  It’s getting done, period.  You don’t need to sell me, Garrosh.  I trust you with my life.

 

I’m going to skip over the part where I looked over the edge for a second and wondered if Krom’gar could use some company in splat-land.

Oh, but also, speaking of Krom’gar, it bears repeating:

Anyway.  Here’s the plan from this point: we’re taking off for Northrend within the hour, and will rendezvous with Liadrin and the rest of our people at the Argent Vanguard.  We’re keeping the group relatively small – me, Dranosh, Mokvar.  Edwin.  Captain Drok, obviously, since the Windrunner is his ship, plus a minimal crew to operate it.  Dontrag, Utvoch…Jaina…you’ll notice who I just lumped together there.  Jaina’s put her Kirin Tor friends on notice, so once we get the Focusing Iris from Coldarra, we’ll high-tail it to Dalaran, where they’ll be able to port us directly to the Caverns of Time.  From there, with any luck, it’ll be a short trip to Normal-ville.

Time for me to get on board.  More updates soon.

 

 

[Header image of Thunder Bluff provided by Angelya from Revive and Rejuvenate.  "Dismissed" image provided by Rades from Orcish Army Knife.  Both images used here with permission and many thanks.]

The fire in which we burn

Posted in Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 11, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

Dranosh left with the Windrunner for Theramore.  He brought Dontrag and Utvoch, which, I mean, I know this is really no time for jokes, but…HAHA!  Poor fucker.  Anyway, he’s going to see if he can find Faranell there, or in Thunder Bluff if need be.  One way or another, Mokvar and I will meet him there when we’re done on our end.

We got Mokvar hooked up with a wyvern, and we both flew down from Ashenvale to Tanaris.  Soridormi was there to greet us when we arrived at the Caverns of Time.

 

SORIDORMI:  Overlord.  Or do you still prefer “Warchief” in this reality?  It’s so hard to know what to call certain people.

GARROSH:  Doesn’t matter.  Call me whatever.

SORIDORMI:  Oh?  So if I decide “Roshy” has a nice ring to it…?

GARROSH:  Don’t get clever.

SORIDORMI:  <wry grin>  I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.

GARROSH:  <grumbles>  Fine, whatever.  While you’re being all smug and smart, though, how about this – last time I was here, seems to me you might have, you know, neglected to mention a few minor details about this world.

SORIDORMI:  In fairness, I did tell you all that there were other events that played out differently.

GARROSH:  Which you totally made sound like “I’m just glossing over this since it’s not really that important.”

SORIDORMI:  Did I?  Hardly.  Every moment is important, Garrosh.  But at the time, there was no telling how much longer I had to detail matters further.  We were – if you’ll pardon the expression – working on borrowed time.

GARROSH:  And now?

SORIDORMI:  This timeline has taken…a much firmer hold.

MOKVAR:  The last few times we’ve shifted, our time here has gotten longer, and our time in the original timeline has gotten shorter…

SORIDORMI:  <nods>  This timeline is taking over as the predominant one.  That overwriting of your reality will soon be complete, if it isn’t already.

GARROSH:  Well then, since we’re in like 2% less of a rush now, how about you fill in a few gaps for us.  Starting with, say, why it is that Orgrimmar is overrun right now by the Burning Legion and the Scourge, both of which we had pretty well under control last I checked.

SORIDORMI:  In both cases, everything hinges on certain unexpected events involving the Battle of the Wrathgate.

GARROSH:  Go on…

SORIDORMI:  After the Alliance and Horde set aside their petty conflicts and united against the Lich King, Tirion Fordring’s Argent Crusade was able to assemble a strike force of the greatest champions from both factions.  The team that Fordring would lead into Icecrown Citadel for the final assault would be far mightier even than the one that defeated Arthas in your timeline.

GARROSH:  Okay, so I’m not seeing how that leads to things being WORSE.

SORIDORMI:  It didn’t, at first.  But you’ll recall, in the time leading up to the attack, the Lich King’s chief researcher was not Professor Putricide – Patrick Faranell – but Putress.

Soridormi holds out her hand and summons an image of Rotface and Festergut.

IMAGE OF ROTFACE:  Daddy make toys out of you!  WEEEEEE!

IMAGE OF FESTERGUT:  Dead, dead, dead!  Daddy, I did it!

SORIDORMI:  Putricide’s most formidable creations, while strong, were ultimately…limited.  Undermined by a lingering sentimentality that Putricide would carry into undeath from another life.

She shakes her hand, and the image changes to that of Patrick Faranell.

IMAGE OF PATRICKBetween you, me, and the walls, I’d rather like to have a couple sons… I remember how much Dad seemed to enjoy himself with us.

SORIDORMI:  Putress’ malevolent ingenuity would have no such…humanity to temper it.  He would furnish the Lich King with constructs more monstrous and strains of blight more virulent than anything known to your timeline.

GARROSH:  Um, didn’t I ask you THIS VERY THING about Putress the last time?

SORIDORMI:  You did.  I didn’t give you an answer.

GARROSH:  INDEED YOU DIDN’T.

MOKVAR:  I think we might have distracted her, actually.

GARROSH:  Whose side are you on?

MOKVAR:  I’m on the side of us not standing around bickering over who said what and why.

GARROSH:  Fine.  So Putress invented some powerful shit, boy, don’t know why you never thought of that, Garrosh, go on please.

SORIDORMI:  Strengthened by Putress’ creations, the Lich King would ultimately defeat Fordring’s even mightier strike force.

MOKVAR:  So some of the most powerful heroes against the Scourge, from the Horde and Alliance, were all killed.

SORIDORMI:  <pauses grimly>  It would have been a kindness had they merely been killed.

Soridormi waves her hand, summoning a likeness of the Lich King.

IMAGE OF THE LICH KING:  You trained them well, Fordring.  You delivered the greatest fighting force this world has ever known…right into my hands – exactly as I intended.

MOKVAR:  By the spirits…

GARROSH:  He raised them as his minions…

SORIDORMI:  And then killed Tirion Fordring.  <closes her eyes a moment>  And then raised him

IMAGE OF THE LICH KING:  You could’ve been my greatest champion, Fordring.  A force of darkness that would wash over this world and deliver it into a new age of strife.

SORIDORMI:  …to lead his new army of Deathbringers.

Garrosh and Mokvar exchange troubled looks.

GARROSH:  Okay…  Bad news part one done…  Now what about the demons?

SORIDORMI:  A further consequence of the defeat in Icecrown Citadel…  You may recall, in your time, after the fall of the Lich King, some of his former minions would find for themselves…new allegiances.

Soridormi conjures a shimmering likeness of Sylvanas Windrunner.

IMAGE OF SYLVANAS:  With the death of the Lich King, many of the more intelligent Scourge became…unemployed… They are under my command now…

SORIDORMI:  With the Lich King victorious, the val’kyr would never ally themselves with Sylvanas.  Which would prove…unfortunate for the Forsaken.

Soridormi waves her hand.  Above her palm appears an image of Sylvanas with Lord Godfrey and High Warlord Cromush at the Greymane Wall.

IMAGE OF SYLVANAS:  Soldiers of the Horde!  We are victorious!  Lordaeron is w—

The image of Lord Godfrey draws a pistol and shoots Sylvanas point-blank.  She immediately falls dead on the ground.

IMAGE OF CROMUSH:  What have you done, Godfrey?!

IMAGE OF GODFREY:  Something that should have been done a long time ago, you filthy animal.  Gilneas belongs to me, and so soon will the rest of Lordaeron!

SORIDORMI:  In your timeline, Sylvanas was resurrected by her val’kyr servants.  Here, she had no val’kyr to save her.  Sylvanas Windrunner died – for the second and final time.  In the aftermath of her death, leadership of the Undercity would pass to Sylvanas’ second, her majordomo of several years.

The nathrezim Varimathras.

GARROSH:  Varimathras?  How?  He’s…dead…oh no…

MOKVAR:  <head sinks>  The Wrathgate…

SORIDORMI:  <nods>  Without Putress in the Undercity, Varimathras had no collaborator with whom to conspire against the Banshee Queen.  There was never a coup against Sylvanas.  And without the coup against Sylvanas, Varimathras was never exposed as the traitor he was — his true loyalties to the Burning Legion never revealed.  He carried on unimpeded, not only free to continue his scheming in the Undercity, but eventually becoming its leader.  Much time did not pass before he carried out his master plan…

She waves her hand again, summoning the fiery red likeness of a monstrous eredar.

…and summoned Kil’jaeden the Deceiver into this world.  Bringing with him countless legions of demons from the Twisted Nether.  Bringing with him the Second Fall of Lordaeron.  Most of the Eastern Kingdoms was soon to follow.

GARROSH:  Fucking hell…

MOKVAR:  Soridormi… Edwin is in this world now, we think.  If we can get him here, is there still time to undo all this?

SORIDORMI:  If we can get him back to Southshore, we should be able to reset the timelines with both Edwins at the points they need to be.

GARROSH:  Okay, great, so we’ll just collect him and get him down here and—

SORIDORMI:  Actually getting him to old Southshore, though, is no easy task, and not without problems.

GARROSH:  Dammit, I thought if I said that fast enough we could get out before the “but” kicked in.

MOKVAR:  What’s the problem?

SORIDORMI:  Sending Edwin back to period to which he’s already time-traveled involves crossing his own timeline in ways that no mortal was meant to do.

GARROSH:  Ah…the whole “no double-dipping” thing.

SORIDORMI:  To open a stable time portal for such a repeat incursion will require me to channel immense amounts of power – far more than I can summon up myself.

GARROSH:  What about the Noz?  He’s the head honcho time guy anyway, couldn’t he pull it off?

SORIDORMI:  I am…the most powerful member of the Bronze Flight here.

GARROSH:  How does that work?  I mean I get that you’ve got this secret super time vision and whatever, but no offense, how did you get to be more powerful than Noz?

MOKVAR:  Garrosh…

SORIDORMI:  I’m not.

GARROSH:  So what gives?  Where is he, any…oh…oh no…

SORIDORMI:  <looks down a moment>  For a number of reasons…the final confrontation with Deathwing proved…far more costly in this timeline than in the other.

GARROSH:  I… Wow do I feel like a jackass.

MOKVAR:  This is what it finally took, huh?

GARROSH:  So…we need a power source to tap into, then?

SORIDORMI:  That’s right.

Garrosh stares off to one side, thinking anxiously.

MOKVAR:  Not to bring up bad memories, Soridormi, but I don’t suppose the Dragon Soul is an option?

SORIDORMI:  I would be, yes…

GARROSH:  Okay, so—

SORIDORMI:  Except that it has already been returned to its own time, and retrieving it a second time would involve the type of crossing of timelines that we need the power source for in the first place.

GARROSH:  Okay, seriously, you’ve got to start leading with the “but” part of these answers.

MOKVAR:  What about the spell book that Malchezaar used to bring the demons into Orgrimmar?

SORIDORMI:  <shakes her head>  The Book of Medivh is a powerful source of portal magic, for portals within this reality, but hardly helpful for the kind of temporal manipulation we’re undertaking.

GARROSH:  <staring down, hesitant>  What about…the Focusing Iris?  From the Eye of Eternity?

SORIDORMI:  <nods slowly>  The Focusing Iris would work, yes.  As a dragon relic, in fact, it should lend itself all the more easily to my use.

MOKVAR:  Do we know where it is now?

GARROSH:  The Blue Dragonflight is keeping it in Coldarra.

SORIDORMI:  I will give you my talisman to show to the blues.  They will give you the Iris if they know you’ve been sent by me.  They’ll know I would not ask were the need not dire.

GARROSH:  Okay then.  I think we have a plan.

SORIDORMI:  Indeed, Warchief.

GARROSH:  You know what?  Just call me Garrosh.  People calling me “Warchief” here either gets confusing like with Utvoch earlier, or it’s just creepy like with Malchezaar.

MOKVAR:  We should probably get go—

SORIDORMI:  Wait, Garrosh – Malchezaar saw you, and called you “Warchief”?

GARROSH:  Yeah, why?

SORIDORMI:  <fidgets with her hands nervously>  You need to go.  Now.  Take my talisman and get to Northrend quickly to recover the Focusing Iris.

MOKVAR:  Why?  What is it?

GARROSH:  I’ve really kind of had my fill of flying blind around here.  What’s got you spooked all of a sudden?

SORIDORMI:  The Netherspace where Malchezaar dwelled was a distorted region of time.

GARROSH:  Right, I know.  Time loop, round and round, now he’s dead, now he’s not, boom.  So what?

SORIDORMI:  The Netherspace rests at the intersection of countless times.  Those who dwell there can see into the different realities – bits and pieces, usually, but one never knows.  If Malchezaar knows to call you “Warchief,” he has seen your other world.  And in that case, he may well know enough – or could deduce – how the worlds fit together and how they might be corrected.

MOKVAR:  It would really be nice if there could be some stupid people on the bad guys’ side for a change…

SORIDORMI:  The Burning Legion stands on the brink of a victory on Azeroth that it has coveted for millennia.  If they realize what we’re doing, they will not stand idly by.  We need to act quickly.

GARROSH:  Got it.  Be doing whatever you need to do to get ready, Soridormi.  We’ll be back with Edwin and the Focusing Iris.

SORIDORMI:  I hope so, Garrosh.  Titans watch over you.

 

We winged it double-time to Thunder Bluff.  I’m writing from there now.  Dranosh and the others haven’t arrived yet, but I’ve sent a messenger to Theramore with the barest bare-bones of what we need to do.  I’m guessing he’ll be headed here by nightfall, morning at the latest, and then we can get moving.

Next stop, Northrend.

 

 

[Sylvanas and Kil'jaeden images above provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks.  Click on the links in the previous sentence to see the souped-up Postcards versions!]

Could we have the demons back?

Posted in General, Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 10, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

We stopped at Splintertree Post first, but there was no Mortimer there.  I was pretty much guessing as far as where to look for him, since I’d originally found him at Hellscream’s Reach, which, well, doesn’t exist as an outpost in this world.  Our next stop was Silverwind Refuge, and there we finally had some luck.  Good and bad, actually, depending on how you count.

On the good: among the windrider master’s batch of wyverns, I spotted that familiar mane.  I’m not sure if he somehow remembered me from the other timeline, or if there’s just something about me that drew him to me in either world, or if it’s that I knew to call him by name – whatever it was, Mortimer saw me approaching, climbed down from his perch, and came right over.  I notified Wind Tamer Shoshok that one of her wyverns was being requisitioned.

On the mixed-bag-ish: well…

 

DRANOSH:  I know you said you need to go gather some information, but you know we could just give you any number of wyverns.

GARROSH:  You can give Mokvar any number of wyverns.

DRANOSH:  What’s so special about this one?

GARROSH:  <chuckles>  I wouldn’t even know where to start.

While Garrosh and Dranosh talk, there’s a murmuring among the Silverwind troops behind them, followed by the voice of…

UTVOCH:  Warchief!

DRANOSH and GARROSH:  <turning and overlapping>  What?

UTVOCH:  So glad to see you, sir!  You won’t believe what’s been going on lately!

GARROSH:  Um, Utvoch, are you talking to me or the Warchief here?  You seem confused.

MOKVAR:  “Utvoch, you seem confused.”  There’s something you never hear.

DRANOSH:  Uh, Garrosh, do you know this person?

MOKVAR:  Not yet.

GARROSH:  <rubbing forehead>  Yeah, yeah, I do.  Kind of.  Warchief, let me introduce Scout Utvoch.  I’ve had…some dealings with him…in the past.

UTVOCH:  Sir!  A great honor to see you again, sir, a very great inconceivable relief—

GARROSH:  <smacks Utvoch>  That’s not what that word means in any reality.

MOKVAR:  Garrosh, you know, if Utvoch is here, that probably means…

DONTRAG:  <calling from a distance while sprinting over>  Utvoch!  What are you doing?

GARROSH:  <perks an eyebrow at Mokvar>  You just had to jinx us, didn’t you?

Mortimer cringes and edges back from Dontrag and Utvoch.

UTVOCH:  Dontrag!  Look, Garrosh is here, and I’m just telling him and the Warchief—

DONTRAG:  Oh for goodness’ sake, Ut, are you going to start bothering them with that idiocy about you being somewhere else only it’s not somewhere else only there’s nobody there except you other than the people who are there that aren’t here?

GARROSH:  <spins to Mokvar>  See?  SEE?  I told you!

UTVOCH:  I’m telling you it’s true, Dontrag!  I really was seeing it and – <turns back to Garrosh> and – and it wasn’t a dream of a hallucinationatory or anything!

DONTRAG:  Idiot, you were standing right next to me every time you said it happened and I didn’t see a blasted thing.

DRANOSH:  So, okay, who is this one, then?

GARROSH:  This is Sergeant Dontrag, Utvoch’s…well, I’m not going to say “better half”…

MOKVAR:  They kind of come as a set.

GARROSH:  Kind of like peas in an incredibly retarded pod that almost, not quite but almost, makes you hope the demons win.

DRANOSH:  That’s not funny, actually.

DONTRAG:  I… High Overlord… I’m honored that you know me, sir.  A great vast honor to think that my reputation would have reached you all the way in Orgrimmar, sir!

GARROSH:  Wait, what?

MOKVAR:  <aside to Garrosh>  Uh, you never would have met them here.  Utvoch only remembers you because…you know… <does Nozdormu’s “wibbly wobbly, timey whimey” hand motion>

GARROSH:  <aside to Mokvar>  Oh…yeah…right…  <to Dontrag>  Right, well, see, Dontrag, I always make a point of keeping an eye on the, um, performance of all our soldiers.  Just part of my job.

DONTRAG:  Oh, um, really…?

DRANOSH:  It is?

DRO SHADOWFREE:  <chiming in from nearby>  Have you been satisfied with my work as well, Overlord?

GARROSH:  <spitting his words out curtly with a quick, annoyed glance at Dro>  Shut the fuck up, you don’t matter.

DRO SHADOWFREE:  Oh…

DONTRAG:  An honor to meet you as well, Warchief.  Please don’t let my friend here bother you with his idiocy.

UTVOCH:  You’re one to talk about idiocy!

DRANOSH:  So, um, Garrosh, is this one the brains of the operation or something?

MOKVAR:  I think that question might make the universe cry.

GARROSH:  Yeah, uh, not so much.  Think of them more as covering complementary parts of the idiot spectrum.

DONTRAG:  <crestfallen>  I’m…sorry, sir…

DRANOSH:  So why are these two important again?

GARROSH:  They’re not.  They’re really, really not.

MOKVAR:  Garrosh, if I could make a suggestion…we might actually want to bring them with us.

GARROSH:  Dude, we’ve already watched the Burning Legion and Scourge overrun Orgrimmar, have we not suffered enough for one day?

MOKVAR:  Well at least Utvoch.  You know…  <makes the “timey whimey” gesture again>

DONTRAG:  Wait, why is he more important?

UTVOCH:  Hah, suck it, Donty.

MOKVAR:  More importantly, because of…you know who.

GARROSH:  <eyes go wide a moment>  Good point.

DRANOSH:  Does someone want to fill me in?

GARROSH:  Yeah.  Right.  Here’s the thing, Dranosh.  Part of the idea I was talking about before, the way we might be able to undo everything that’s happened – it all depends on a human who was in Orgrimmar.  A mage named Edwin Faranell.  If we’re going to have any chance at all of doing this, we have to find him.

UTVOCH:  Oh, hey, Edwin?  But he’s still human now?  It didn’t wear off or anything?  I just figured he was still that way because of when that naaru soul crystal coldcocked him in the cellar.

DRANOSH:  Okay, I’m going to give you thirty seconds to start making sense before I start taking an axe to you.

MOKVAR:  Might as well save yourself thirty seconds and just kill him now.

GARROSH:  POINT BEING.  Utvoch knows Faranell, so he could be handy for helping look for him.  Maybe.

DRANOSH:  What’s so important about the mage?

GARROSH:  It would take a really long time to explain.  And a lot of it still wouldn’t make a lot of sense.

UTVOCH:  It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me and I was there.

GARROSH:  You just described LIFE for you.

UTVOCH:  Yes, sir.  Sorry, sir.

GARROSH:  What’s important is that if we can’t find him, this whole plan is dead in the water.

MOKVAR:  Last we saw him, he was on his way to the zeppelins with the last of the evacuees.

DRANOSH:  Assuming he made it out, that would put him at either Thunder Bluff or Theramore.

GARROSH:  Okay.  So here’s the plan.  I need some questions answered before we do anything else, and there’s only one place to get the answers.  I’m going to take Mortimer here to Tanaris.  I’ll need Mokvar with me.  In the meantime, Dranosh, you’ve got to find Faranell.

DRANOSH:  <grins half-heartedly>  You’re the boss, Overlord.  I’ll do a search in Theramore first and get our forces organized for a second front against the Legion.  After that, I can head to Thunder Bluff.

GARROSH:  We’ll meet you there after we’re done on our end.

DONTRAG:  A question, Overlord?

GARROSH:  <sighs>  Yes, Dontrag.

DONTRAG:  Who’s this Mortimer person?

 

“Wait, he named his wyvern ‘Mortimer’?”  “I think that was already his name.”  “Who gave it that name?”  “I think they said he just already had it himself.”  “How’s that possible?  The wyvern named itself?”  “I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?”  “I don’t speak wyvern, Ut.”  “You barely speak orcish, Donty.”

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