Archive for malfurion stormrage

Sibling rivalry (with an AA rhyme scheme)

Posted in EPIC VERSE with tags , , , , , , , , , on April 25, 2015 by Garrosh Hellscream

It’s still Friday somewhere, right?  Right…?

wellofeternity1

EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!

ILLIDAN STORMRAGE

VS.

MALFURION STORMRAGE

BEGIN!

MALFURION:

The horn has sounded, and I’ve come as promised
To confront at my calmest the storm that rages upon us;
I’ll take no joy in this, brother, and I’ll spare you the gallows,
But I’ll drop you down so hard you’ll find the Barrow Deeps shallow.
You were always a black sheep, but you took it deeper:
Betrayed our peeps to demons like you were some fel grim reaper.
I dreamt the dream of the sleeper; you daydreamed like a creeper:
Leering at your sister-in-law even without any peepers.

ILLIDAN:

You foolish furry, Furion, you know nought of what you’ve wrought,
For even my blind eyes can see what seeing eyes cannot.
Now I’m dropping verbal blades, and it’s time to end charades;
You portrayed me as Betrayer – nay, ’twas I who was betrayed!
Just the same, before you stand there spouting off “disloyal” slander,
Maybe you shouldn’t just stand there when a Horde raid stomps Tyrande.
And while you dozed, one never knows if I received a conjugal visit –
Oh yes, you’ll scoff…but it’s a thought you can’t simply dismiss, now is it?

MALFURION:

When you reached down in the well, you must have fished that witless jest.
Maiev may be naught without you, but without you, you are less.
You sold your soul to demons, now to all persona non grata;
You were once an epic hero – now you’re a warglaive piñata.
Rejected, hated, friendless; and remember, when you go
Brooding on your skull of Gul’dan: you know him not, Horatio.
Slither off now to your naga; take the loss here that you’re due –
But based on Arthas, I suppose you’ll think you won this battle, too.

ILLIDAN:

You were always quick to lecture with your arrogance arthurian;
Here, have seven vials of shut the fuck up and hush, Malfurion!
Sold out? I used the Legion for the power I’d inherit;
I may now be half demon, but you’re at least a quarter ferret.
Alas, your beard – and facial hair – don’t have anyone fooled.
Now I hope you’ve taken rhyming notes, for Sha’do’s getting schooled.
You’ve had enough? Now shift to fraidy-cat and run off scared,
For I declare, brother, in this battle you were not prepared.

WHO WON?

WHO’S NEXT?

YOU DECIDE!

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EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!

 

[Next Friday…the Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge bonus-edition finale!  (Who will it be?  Who’s to say?!  GET YOUR SUGGESTIONS IN EARLY!  And…I promise… some overdue for-real for-real posts between then and now!]

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30 Days of Character Development #6: Mylune

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

[Each week — or some remote facsimile thereof — 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.]

 

mylune_profile1Name:  Mylune

Occupation:  Caretaker of Hyjal, wildlife custodian

Race:  Forest nymph

Class:  Druid

Age:  Unknown, though her behavior would suggest fairly young by nymph standards

Group affiliations:  Guardians of Hyjal (member), Cenarion Circle (member)

Known relatives:  Cenarius (exact relationship unclear, but all forest nymphs are descended from dryads, who are daughters of Cenarius)

Earth Online notes:  Mercifully, no one has told Mylune about Earth Online.  Or possibly about the internet.  Probably for the best in both cases.

First appearance:  “Of wyverns and pine cones

Key posts and plot points:

  • Garrosh has only encountered Mylune a few times, but those few times have been memorable ones.  He first met everyone’s favorite overly energetic nymph in “Of wyverns and pine cones,” in which Mylune was a bit too excited to meet Mortimer.  This came as a shock to no one — least of all Hamuul Runetotem — other than the Warchief himself.
  • Garrosh had another run-in with Mylune (much to his chagrin) a few months later, in “Attack of the petting zoo.”  This time around, Mylune unleashed her boundless affection on a pack of armed critters dwelling amid the northern plateaus of Mulgore.  This time, however, the critters were ready to put up a fight, the distress of which eventually launched Mylune into what can only be described as a psychotic episode.  For the record, Hamuul narrowly missed winning Malfurion’s office pool on when she would snap.
  • It only follows, then, that when Ben-Lin Cloudstrider organized an anger management seminar in the appropriately named “Anger management,” Mylune would be one of the attendees.  Given that the session consisted of putting Mylune, Garrosh, Lor’thermar Theron, and Tirion Fordring in a room together…well…the exercise proved less than productive.  Unless, of course, you’re Faranell, in which case it was a terrific way to spend an afternoon.

In her own words:

What are your most prominent physical features?

Hi!  How are you?  I hope you’re having a super happy wonderful day, because why wouldn’t you when we have this beautiful world to share with all our adorable woodland friends!

Oh… Did you ask a question?  Okay!  Well, I guess I have extra big blue eyes — for looking out for all the cuddly animals!  And my long pointed ears…to listen for the cuddly animals!  And…oh, and my slender but surprisingly steel-trap-like arms, for hugging the cuddly animals!  They’re just so sweet and cute, so how could I resist!  And hug them to my bosom!  Nice and close to my heart, that’s big and warm and just bursting with love for the animals!  Does that count too?

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

I do have this one little scar on my shoulder here, but you know?  It’s a funny thing!  I don’t really remember where it came from.  Isn’t that weird?

Describe your happiest memory.

Ohhh that would have to be the first time I went up to Nordrassil.  It was before that mean demon guy climbed up there and made everyone sad for a while, and I’ll always remember walking through the passage to the peak of Mount Hyjal, and seeing all the animals running around and playing, just bunnies and squirrels and raccoons and skunks and chipmunks and OH MY LUNE they were all so adorable, and the sun was shining and the birds were singing, and like three rainbows all appeared in the sky, and I just ran and ran all around with the animals and we played and hugged and snuggled and it was all such a big happy wonderful blur but Mal says it was okay because eventually I passed out from exhaustion and finally got quiet and also because ale.

Is there one event or happening you would like to erase from your past?  Why?

The incident.  Only Miss Cloudy-bear said I should try not to think about the incident.  So, what?

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

Coffee ice cream — I really really like coffee, did you know it helps give you extra energy?  Isn’t that just super?!  And my favorite color is green, and my favorite song is…oh, you know that one?  It always seems to be playing when you walk through the forests.  You know the one?  It goes like this — laaa, la la la laaaaa, la la la laah, luh la lahhh?  It’s so pretty!  I don’t really understand where it’s coming from, though.

mylune2Who do you trust?

Hamuul, and Malfurion, even though Hamuul can be all my cranky-hooves sometimes.  And Mal always seems to be hovering around watching me like he’s looking for something, but I know it’s just because he cares.  I trust all my forest nymph sisters, too, even though a lot of them don’t really hang out with me much.

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

The incident.  OH MY LUNE!  Why do you keep bringing up the incident?!  I’m not supposed to think about that!  What?  What incident?  Happy thoughts!  HAPPY THOUGHTS!

Is there an animal you equate to yourself?

<Mylune’s eyes go large and dewy>

I have to pick ONE?  But they’re all so SQUEEEEEEE!

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

I don’t deal with cold as well as my cousins the frost nymphs, but I really, REALLY don’t like extreme heat!  That’s sounds like something from those burny guys from the Firelands!  You’re not with THEM, are you?!

Are you an early morning bird or a night owl?

I’m always up bright and early!  Why waste the warm snuggly sunlight?

Are you a good cook?  What’s your favorite recipe?

OH MY LUNE why do you keep trying to talk about the incident?  What’s WRONG with you?  Okay, you know what!  Fine!  FINE!  YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT?  WE’LL TALK ABOUT IT!  SO YEAH, I’M GOOD MOTHERFUCKING COOK, AS IF YOU DIDN’T ALREADY FUCKING KNOW!  AND YOU KNOW WHAT I COOK REALLY WELL, IT TURNS OUT?  RABBIT FUCKING STEW!  BECAUSE GUESS WHAT, ASSHOLE — SPOILER ALERT: THE DEATH OF THE SOUL TASTES FUCKING DELICIOUS!

Do you have any irrational fears?

Gee, I don’t know, what do you think — maybe I have a deep-seeded fear of HAVING ANOTHER FUCKING BLACKOUT AND WAKING UP AMID THE BODIES AGAIN?  YOU THINK MAYBE THAT KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT?

What would your cutie mark be?

Oooh, well, maybe a heart or a rainbow, or, hey, HOW ABOUT A FUCKING SKULL AND CROSSBONES, BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK NOT IF YOU’RE GOING TO KEEP BRINGING IT UP, YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!

mylune_profile2If you could time travel, where would you go?

WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK I WOULD GO, ASSHOLE?  MAYBE BACK TO THE GODDAMN INCIDENT YOU WON’T STOP FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!  MAYBE I’D LIKE TO TAKE THAT ONE BACK, YA THINK?!

Are you superstitious?

I know karma’s a bitch, I can tell you THAT much!

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

COVERED WITH DARK RED STAINS OF LOST INNOCENCE THAT WILL NEVER, EVER COME OUT.  I WASH THEM, AND WASH THEM, AND THEY NEVER COME OUT.

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

Um… <deep breath>  Smell?  Oh, like smelling salts?  Um…yes, those might be handy.  They’re usually pretty helpful.

Is…is Hamuul around anywhere?  I think I need to talk to him.  I don’t know if the herbs Miss Cloudy-bear gave me are working…

 

Previous Profiles:

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

* * * * *

[A few quick OOC notes looking ahead:  I have a big stack of material on the way (hopefully) over the next week-plus, then, the weekend after next, remember that we have our next Meta Raid.  Clear your (raid) calendars for Saturday, May 10, at 8:00 PM EDT!

That Saturday (May 10) will also mark the beginning of a short break I’ll be taking from posting — I’m going to take the following week off to tend to RL commitments and do some advance prepping for the next stretch of posts.  To send you off with a bang, though, and to add an extra perk to the Meta Raid, I’m going to have one last post going up that night, right as we’re gathering for our night of SoO hijinks.  (Place your bets now on whether I’m going to cook up something to leave you hanging for a bit…)]

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 13, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

You know how this works.  Here we go…

 

Hail, Warchief!

I took a bit of a break from Orgrimmar–I was out on my own for a few years and kind of managed to miss the whole “war in Northrend” thing and was honestly a little surprised to see you in charge when I got back. Yeah, I was really out in the boonies and didn’t hear word of anything going on.

Anyway, when I got back and checked out my bank I found a lot of useless junk along with a surprise–two severed night elf heads. I was feeling a little “frisky” in my youth and during one particularly long battle in Alterac Valley, I bagged a few trophies. I made a little pile of most of them and now they’re who knows where, but I still have these two night elf noggins.

My questions to you are:

1) If you had two severed night elf heads, what would you do with them?

2) Why are these things still in pristine condition even though they are at least three years old?

Thanks for your insight,

–Grixar, the grumpy old orc shaman

Hey, Grixar, and welcome back.  Hopefully your time away gave you a chance to clear your head and come back ready to curbstomp some humans again.  Still…missing the whole war in Northrend?  And the fact that I took over as Warchief for Thrall?  Really?  Where the hell did you GO, man?  Did they not have newspapers there?  Heralds?  Seers?  How deep was this cave you went and hid in?

I mean, okay, I guess you wanted some time to get away from it all.  Who am I to judge?  Oh wait, hang on a second, I’m the FUCKING WARCHIEF, that’s who.

You DID hear that we won up there in Northrend, right?  And the Lich King is dead?  And Bolvar Fordragon died with him?  Oh, and also Deathwing turned up again, which kind of made mess of the place for a while, you may or may not have noticed.  Don’t you worry, though, because – in case you missed it – Thrall or Go’el or whatever the fuck he’s calling himself this week, that dude went off with the Earthen Ring and the Dragon Aspects and the Bilgewater goblins at one point (don’t ask) to feed his messianic ego some more – just what he needed, right? – and went all “OMG IM TOTALLY SAVIN ALL TEH WORLDZ HERE GAIZ” but still managed to squeeze in time to get his groove on for once.  Did you hear?

Dude, seriously, you’re reading a blog.  Pop on a Google news feed every once in a while.

As for your questions…

Question #1:  This one is easy.  I would swing by Hyjal and give them to our old buddy Antlers McBeardyface.  Why?  Because what with him being married to Tyrande Whatshername, that would probably be the first night elf head he’s gotten in about 10,000 years.  OH YES I SAID IT.

Question #2:  This one is a little trickier to wrap your head around, but it’s sort of straightforward when you come right down to it.  Basically, Grixar, it goes back to the whole “immortality” thing that the night elves used to have going for them.  Short version: the fuckers just don’t decay.  Or if they do, it happens really, REALLY slowly.  Go ahead, kill a night elf (please!) and stick him in the ground.  Then come back ten years later.  (Don’t worry, I’ll wait.)  (No I won’t.  Come back here, you idiot, and stop being so damn literal.)  Dig him up again and see if there’s been any change at all to the body.  Spoilers: THERE HASN’T.

Fucked up, huh?  So much for those night elves being such high-and-mighty tree-hugging nature-lovers, right?  Everybody else dies and gets buried and their bodies nourish the land and feed the plants which feed the animals which feed ME, especially if they’re pigs because bacon.  But the night elves?  They die and go “FUCK YOU, CIRCLE OF LIFE!” – which is not only dickish but also creepy as hell what with them being dead when they say it.

Anyway, yeah, that’s the deal with your collection of night elf heads.  By all means, now that you’re back, start adding to it again.  And can I recommend some humans?  Oh, and gnomes.  Don’t forget to kill lots of gnomes.  They’re little – you can kill a bunch of them in the middle of the afternoon and you’ll still have plenty of room to kill some more humans at dinnertime.

 

Warchief,

Gamon’s a quiet guy and all, but a bit touchy. Go tap him on the shoulder in the inn and you’ll see what I mean. Since the Shattered Hand cut him out of their training program and he started fighting back instead of just playing dead for a couple minutes, some folks have been taking advantage of his hair trigger and sending noobs over to “get to know him”, just to watch the inevitable horrible cleavage happen.

What he’s more likely thinking about, though, is when the occasional group of alliance adventurers find their way inside Orgrimmar to start some trouble. It’s like he tunes out in that bar, so sometimes we gotta get him chasing us outside before he notices the alliance and gets to work. Always worth it to for the look on their faces – I mean, the lad swings a mean axe but doesn’t really look all that dangerous.

–Infaris, Orgrimmar

Wait, you wanna see “horrible cleavage”?  Swing by Deepholme sometime and go say hi to Therazane.  Eeeeeeeeeesh.

Seriously, though, I’m not surprised that Gamon’s got some serious cleaving going for him.  He and Saurfang are old drinking buddies, did you know?  Well, maybe not OLD old, but going back before I got here, so that still counts as before relevant history, right?  Anyhow, doesn’t surprise me that Gamon may have picked up a trick or two.

But also, this business where someone needs to get Gamon’s attention when there are Alliance in Orgrimmar brings up another good point.  Seems to me that we need a better invader alert system here.  On more than one occasion, an Alliance strike force has hit Orgrimmar, and gotten all the way in to my command room in Grommash Hold without anyone other than my Kor’kron guards knowing they were there.  I mean, half the time I’ll be slugging it out with them, and even then nobody’s aware of what’s going on, since I figure it they did, half the damn city would be rushing in to help me fight them off.  But nope, not a soul.  I’ve got to figure we’re just lacking a system to let the Orgrimmar public at large know “Hey, in case you weren’t aware, there’s like forty Allies in Garrosh’s room.”  Not that I need any help with them, really – if anything, it’s kind of funny to watch dozens of Alliance come rushing on in just to get their asses handed to them – but it just seems like the kind of them we should really be on top of more than we seem to be.

 

I was curious about what your helm size is.  My greatmother is an amazing knitter and wants to knit you a helm liner for those chilly trips up to Northrend.  She seems to think that because I am in the military that I am close friends with you and is pestering me to ask you this, I am sorry if this offends or annoys you in any way shape or form.

Deepest regards,

–Toka

See, that’s kind of a tough one.  I used to be a 9 1/4 back in the day, but then there was that incident in Icecrown Citadel when Tirion wouldn’t SHUT. THE FUCK. UP.  So I tried to cover my ears so tight that I wound up squeezing my own head down a few sizes.  Best guess I could give you would be…around 7 1/2, maybe?  7 3/4?  Not really sure.  Also since I didn’t squeeze my head down evenly, I’m working with sort of an irregular helm size, which makes me that much trickier to shop for.

Actually, tell you what.  Let me see if Grixar from a couple letters ago can loan me one of those night elf heads.  If it’s a decent match, size-wise, I’ll just send it to you and you can pass it on to your greatmother.  And hell, if it’s not a decent match, I’ll see what I can do about crunching it down some until it IS.  Then your greatmother can have it right there when she’s knitting, which will be extremely handy and NOT THE SLIGHTEST BIT CREEPY AT ALL.

See?  Your Warchief is nothing if not an outside-the-box problem-solver.

 

Hi Warchief,

I am an aspiring soldier of the Horde in Eversong Woods.  When I first began adventuring, I started training as a Rogue.  I was a little nervous about combat, so I thought it would be helpful to be able to sneak around invisible.

Recently, however, the academy in Silvermoon added a Warrior program to its curriculum.  I think this would be a good field to go into.  I know I do well at melee combat, and I enjoy dual wielding swords.  As a Warrior I could still do these things, plus I could use much better armor and be less squishy.  Also I hear that they usually get the Elite Tauren Chieftains to perform at their Spring Fling concert.

I am writing to ask if you would consider writing me a letter of recommendation for my transfer to the Silvermoon Academy.  I think a recommendation from a celebrated Warrior like yourself would help my application a great deal.  I have enclosed copies of my transcripts and extracurricular records.  Please let me know what you think.

Thank you,

–Hannahlee Mihano, Fairbreeze Village

Glad to hear you’ve come to your senses, Hannahlee, and decided to stop sneaking around like a little girl and start cleaving your foes into pieces like a man.  Except for how I guess you actually are a girl.  But whatever.  Point is, warrior is definitely the way to go, and as a matter of fact, let me tell you the one thing I do know about rogues, which you’ll learn for yourself once you get the hang of warrioring: they are delicious.

I don’t know what kind of operation they’ve got going on up there in Silvermoon, especially seeing whatever “instructors” they’ve got in the warrior program would only have been warriors themselves for, what, like a year or something.  But whatever.  I looked over your materials and you look like you’d be a decent enough candidate, other than how you obviously mailed it in that one semester (seriously, a C+ in Survey of Thelassian Music?).  So I’ve gone ahead and sent a letter along for you.  Here, have a copy for yourself:

Dear elf school,

Some blood elf named Hannahlee wrote to me and asked me to recommend her for warrior training at your school.  To be totally frank, I’ve never met her or talked to her before in my life, so I know pretty much nothing about her and have no idea if she’s any good as a fighter or anything.  Then again I also know nothing whatsoever about your school and what you do there, so sounds like a match to me.  So in my professional capacity as somebody who knows a thing or two about warriors – and also, by the way, I’m Warchief of the Horde, which kind of makes me your boss on top of it all – I’m recommending her for admission.  Mainly because she wrote to me out of the blue and asked me to.  At least she was nice about it.  Come to think of it, though, she didn’t actually say “please,” so maybe you could teach her some fucking manners while she’s there.

Indifferently yours,

Garrosh Hellscream

There, that should take care of that.  On the off chance this doesn’t work out for you, Hannahlee, I think there’s also a school over in Brill, so I could put in a good word for you with Sylvanas if you want.

 

Hi Garrosh!

A friend of mine just linked me to your blog and I read through all the archives (took a while LOL) and OMG! You play Earth Online?!  Me too!  I looked you up in the Directory and I see we’re on different servers.  😦  I was totally bummed.  Maybe I’ll transfer so I can play with you guys!

I’m so excited because I finally managed to get enough rep with the Humane Society so I could get a cat pet!  I’ve wanted one for so long!  We have a lot of cats here in the Sunspire but they don’t really belong to anyone they just sorta hang out here but they’re so cute and fun to watch while they play and hunt and stuff.  They sure make the day go by a lot faster.  We’re kinda in the middle of nowhere so I’m not the busiest merchant ever LOL.  Anyway now I can have a cat to keep me company in game just like the real cats keep me company in real life.

I’m sending you a picture of him!  Isn’t he the cutest thing ever?  Do you have any in-game pets yet?  I bet you have a cat too because you like wyverns and wyverns are kinda like cats crossed with bats and scorpids or something. LOL

Come visit me next time you’re in Silvermoon!  I’ll give you some Honey Bread on the house.  😉

–Shara Sunwing.

Well, Shara, I…wait a minute.  This thing with the honey bread, is this actual literal honey bread we’re talking about, or is it some kind of euphemism?  Because in that case, hoo boy, here we go again.

Okay, moving on.

Yeah, um, it’s a real tragedy we’re on different servers.  Oh well, that’s the way it goes sometimes.  I do remember the Humane Society grind, though – kind of long and annoying, but not nearly as bad as the Hipster Collective.  Have you done THAT rep grind?  It’s infuriating.  There’s this bizarre diminishing returns system in place where if too many other people are doing the same dailies that you’re on, you get this debuff called “Mainstream” and the quests give you way way less rep.  Every once in a while you can get some extra rep for some totally random obscure thing you do, usually something that nobody in their right mind would think to do, but that doesn’t nearly offset the nuisance of constantly having to find quests that not many other people are working on.  There isn’t even any real benefit to getting rep with the Hipsters, just an achievement that people try to get just for the sake of getting it.  Fucking Hipsters.

Anyway, though, I did work up my rep with the Humane Society and got one of the pets.  In my case, though, I didn’t get a cat.  I decided to pick up one of the quests that open up at exalted to get a dog.  And since we’re sharing screenshots from the game, what the hell, here’s mine:

So there you go.  His name is Sawyer and I think he’s some variety of dog called a “terrier.”  Plenty entertaining, too – if I have him out with me outdoors, he’ll stare down other animals way bigger than him and send them running.  Badass little fucker.  Kind of fitting for my companion pet, right?

Which gets me thinking…I know a lot of my readers also play Earth Online – hell, people are constantly bringing it up in blog comments and on Twitter.  So, how about this – for my next mailbag, why don’t you Earth Online pet collectors write in and share a screenshot of YOUR pets, too.  Might be kinda cool to see what all is out there.  Maybe some of you guys have some cool obscure ones that not everyone even knows about.  Probably got bonus rep from the Hipsters for getting it, too.  Fucking Hipsters.

So anyhow, Shara, one last thing before I forget – since you’ve finished reading the archives of the blog, here, let me give you something else to fill up your online reading time: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Run-on_sentence.  You’re welcome.

 

That does it for this time.  As always, keep those letters and questions coming to garrosh1337@gmail.com, and for next time, if you’re an Earth Online player with a cool companion pet, like I said, write in and let us know, and in the next mailbag I’ll post a big ol’ gallery o’ digital animals.  YOUR WARCHIEF HAS SPOKEN.

If they get out a hacky sack, I’m going home

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

So after what Hamuul and Antlers were saying about the critters in Mulgore maybe getting their weapons from a druid in animal form, I got to thinking.  If there’s a druid responsible for this, it’s probably not one of the Cenarion people, seeing as Hamuul usually stays on top of shit better than that, and it’s probably not one of Antlers’ Guardian types up in Hyjal, unless Ysera is really falling asleep on the job.  (SEE WHAT I DID THERE?)  So that rules out most of your typical mainstream druids.  If a druid is behind this, it’s got to be somebody from the pro-animal druid lunatic fringe.  And when you’re talking about the pro-animal druid lunatic fringe, it doesn’t get any fringier than DEHTA.

So, guess where I’m writing from, through the wonders of wireless internet.  That’s right – right this very minute I’m up in the Borean Tundra, paying the DEHTA fuckers a visit.  I’m at their camp right now, mostly trying to figure out what the weird herbal smell around here is.

I was hoping I would get to talk to Lather-on-us – ever since he got it into his demented head that I’d gone vegetarian (HA!), he’s been at least vaguely bearable to deal with.  But, come to find out, he was off working on something away from the camp when I got here.  Nobody seems too clear on when he’s going to be back, so I guess I’m just going to have to make due with the other DEHTA people for now.

Thing is, sad as this will sound, Lather-on-us is probably the most stable one of the bunch.  With him gone, check out the crew I’ve got to deal with.

You’ve got Hierophant Cenius, who’s more or less running the store with the big guy away, and can’t seem to get through a sentence without saying “you dig, man?” and snapping her fingers like 53 times.

Then you’ve got…well…I don’t even know what his real name is, but he sits around all day wearing this retarded murloc getup, and only answers to “King Mrgl-Mrgl.”  I guess he’s actually a night elf, and had been sent to watch the Winterfin murlocs up north, only the murlocs embraced him and made him king and then he went native or some shit.  Then, the last time I was up here, Mortimer helped himself to a murloc buffet and pretty much wiped out this guy’s constituency, so now he’s back here at the camp without much to do.  Other than make retarded gargling sounds.

There’s Zaza, a frost nymph, which I’m not going to mess around with at all after the other day because NYMPHS BE CRAZY.

And then you’ve got Killinger the Den Watcher, or as I like to call him Killinger the Obsessive-Compulsive, who doesn’t seem to remember that he’s able to shift out of bear form, and more importantly, doesn’t seem to remember that he’s able to use soap, because holy shit, seriously.  Honest to fuck, dude, the patchouli oil isn’t fooling anyone.  Now I know what you’re thinking on this one – druid stuck in animal form, maybe this is our guy.  I was thinking that too, only that brings us to our next item, the whole obsessive-compulsive thing.  Dude just keeps walking in a circle around the middle of the camp, counting to himself out loud.  “One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand,” on and on and on.  Just in the time I’ve been here he’s gotten up to 3219.

At one point when he rolled over 2000, I decided to mess with him, and started yelling random numbers.  He got all spastic for a second, then walked back to this one spot in the camp, nodded his head three times, then started circling the same old path while counting off “one thousands” again.  I waited for him to crack 1000 and started doing the random numbers again.  Same deal – walked back to the exact same spot, three nods, went back to circling, “one one thousand, two one thousand.”  I am willing to roll the dice on this guy not being our diabolical mastermind.

So this is Lather-on-us’ braintrust.  Hard to believe Hemet Nesingwary is still up and kicking, isn’t it?

Anyway, I’ve been hanging around here for a while now, trying to choke down a salad that doesn’t even have the common decency to have bacon bits on it.  The DEHTA fuckers have been friendly enough mostly, but it’s hard as hell to keep them on topic, and then when I get irritated and try to respectfully suggest that they could maybe try pulling their heads out of their fucking asses for like two minutes, they start calling me “Herbert” over and over, whatever that means, and then chuckle like morons.  All I’ve been able to get out of them so far is that they don’t seem to know anything about animals being armed, but a few months ago there used to be some new guy hanging out with them, a troll named Tembw’bam, who was all about animal liberation and fighting The (hu)Man(oids), and “any means necessary,” and eventually he got them all going “Whew, this guy’s crazy,” and they sent him on his way.  Which, seriously, when the fucking DEHTA people think you’re a nutjob?  Time to say “check please” to life, dude.

They’re not sure what happened to him, though.  They think one of their other people, Hierophant Liandra, might remember a little more, but she’s out patrolling for trappers right now.  They think she should be back soon, so I’m going to hang around the camp here for a little longer, or at least until I get too sick of these people to keep it up.  Thank goodness for the internet, is all I’m going to say.  You peeps on Twitter?  You know who you are – right now you are single-handedly keeping my sanity.  Because what the holy FUCK is a tofu burger?  Ffs.

Attack of the petting zoo

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

Okay, so we’ve established that something fishy is going on with these gear-toting animals, pretty much all over the place.  Since I brought up the issue earlier in the week, I’ve been getting reports flooding in from all quarters about animals carrying weapons and armor.  And then, a couple days ago, I had my bizarre and disturbing trip to the plateau in Mulgore where a zillion and one critters and zipping around with knives and helmets and…I don’t know, at this point I’m surprised they don’t have fucking rocket launchers or something.

I don’t much like the way this is going right within view of Thunder Bluff.  I also figured that with so much crazy-ass stuff going on with animals, it might be a good idea to check in with our own resident nature-boys, the druids.  So, I decided to kill two birds with one stone (and hope the metaphorical birds weren’t carrying, you know, metaphorical explosives armed with metaphorical dead-man’s switches) and bring this business to the attention of Thunder Bluff’s very own head-honcho druid, Hamuul Runetotem.

Hamuul was as disturbed by all of this as I was, and decided he wanted to check on things personally.  We flew over to the Critter Plateau of WTF earlier today, and seeing as this seemed like one of those “let’s keep a record of shit” occasions, I sent word to Orgrimmar for Mokvar to fly over and meet us there.

Apparently, before he left, Mokvar and the messenger I’d sent had a few go-rounds of “Why does Garrosh want me to fly out there again?”, “No, really,” “Seriously, what’s the actual reason?”, and so on.

Gotta be honest.  I don’t blame you one bit, Mokvar.

 

Hamuul Runetotem rejoins Garrosh and Mokvar after circling around the plateau in flight form.

GARROSH:  So, what’s the verdict, Hamuul?

HAMUUL:  Very peculiar…

GARROSH:  Wow, peculiar.  I’m glad I brought you in on this.  Keen insight right there, dude.

HAMUUL:  Clearly someone is tampering with the conduct of these creatures, though I’m at a loss to speculate as to who.

GARROSH:  Well, yeah, obviously they didn’t smith this stuff up themselves.

HAMUUL:  Indeed.

GARROSH:  So any other bright ideas about…  <looks up>  Hold up…

A brown and violet eagle flies up to the group and shapeshifts into Malfurion Stormrage.

GARROSH:  Wait – the hell?

HAMUUL:  Greetings, Shan’do.

MALFURION:  A pleasure as always, Hamuul.

GARROSH:  What is HE doing here?

HAMUUL:  I took the liberty of bringing this matter to the attention of certain allies.

GARROSH:  Uh, yeah, LITERALLY Allies.

MALFURION:  <nods to Garrosh>  Warchief.

GARROSH:  <nods back>  Antlers.

HAMUUL:  It would be a courtesy to address him by his actual name.

GARROSH:  Meh, Malfunction Stormface, Antlers McBeardyface, po-tay-to, po-tah-to, boo hoo.

HAMUUL:  <to Malfurion>  Probably the best we’re going to get.

MALFURION:  Good enough.

GARROSH:  Okay, so now that we’re all buddies and shit, do I get to find out why we’ve got one of the night elf leaders rolling on through Horde territory like it’s something to do?

HAMUUL:  I thought Master Stormrage might be of some aid in determining the cause of these unnatural developments.

MALFURION:  I can be on my way just as easily if you prefer.

GARROSH:  Yeah, whatever, fine, I’ll cut you some slack what with the whole Ragnaros thing.  I suppose you might have a good read on some of these animals, what with…you know…you practically being one and all.

MALFURION:  I’m a druid.  We all take on animal forms.

GARROSH:  Yeah, right I get that.  But…  <gestures toward the feathered wings on Malfurion’s arms and the bear paws he has for feet>  …you know…

MALFURION:  <sighs>  All right, one last time…

HAMUUL:  You don’t have to.

MALFURION:  No, it’s fine.  I get this all the time.

HAMUUL:  If you wish.

MALFURION:  As a result of the years my spirit dwelled within the Emerald Dream, I gradually took on the attributes of many of the creatures whose forms we druids assume.

GARROSH:  Yeah, but…dude, you’ve got paws.

MALFURION:  Yes, and?

GARROSH:  That doesn’t weird people out a little?  I mean, okay, I don’t really know how you night elves roll, other than, y’know, how you roll over dead after you get chopped up a little, but…

MOKVAR:  Sadly, this really is him on his good behavior.

GARROSH:  I’m serious!  Don’t you get sick of the “get your paws off me” jokes at home or whatever?

MALFURION:  <rolling eyes>  I’ll have you know, if anything, Tyrande really seems to go for—

HAMUULHush, Malfurion!

MALFURION:  …

GARROSH:  HAH!  Did you just shush him?  Because that’s kind of awesome.

HAMUUL:  <sighs>  The point.  Being.  Master Stormrage kindly offered his aid in determining what has been happening with these animals…

GARROSH:  Yeah, fine, whatever.  Let him help.  Are we going to have any more special guests showing up that I need to be warned about?

A giddy squeal can be heard in the distance, followed by the voice of…

MYLUNE:  Oh look at all the adorable bunnies!

HAMUUL:  Actually…

GARROSH:  You…didn’t.

Mylune prances past the others, excitedly racing after random rabbits and prairie dogs.

MYLUNE:  They’re just so cute and warm and soft and snuggly and squee!

GARROSH:  After last time?  Really?

MALFURION:  In Hamuul’s defense, she just happened by when he was explaining the situation to me.

HAMUUL:  She heard “rabbits and prairie dogs,” and, well, that was pretty much that.

GARROSH:  Okay, fine, let her do her thing.  Maybe she’ll fall down a rabbit hole or something.  In the meantime…

MYLUNE:  Oooh and cute little prairie dogs too!  Yay!

GARROSH:  …um…any other insights on what’s going on up here?

MALFURION:  Obviously the creatures are being armed by someone, but based on how these animals are reacting to us, they’re unaccustomed to a humanoid presence.

HAMUUL:  A druid, then, appearing in animal form?

MALFURION:  Most likely.  Not any affiliated with us, though, I can’t imagine.

Mylune continues scampering around the plateau, chasing assorted critters and emitting happy squeals at frequencies only occasionally perceptible to the orcish ear.

GARROSH:  Well riddle me this, Antlers.  How do I know some of your Alliance buddies aren’t behind this?

MALFURION:  Warchief, I could try to hide behind some sort of sweeping statement of principle, but even setting that aside, look around.  If the Alliance were going to encroach on Horde territory, do you really believe this is the best idea they could come up with?

GARROSH:  Point.

MALFURION:  The Alliance leadership may be many things, but they’re not idiots.

MOKVAR:  You’ve met Varian, right?

Mylune grabs at a rat, which wriggles around in a desperate, ill-fated attempt to escape her grasp.

MYLUNE:  Oh no no no, Mr. Sneaky Rat, you don’t get away that easy, silly thing!  You mousey-faces need love too!

GARROSH:  By the way, did she miss the part about them being, you know, armed and shit?

HAMUUL:  I’m fairly sure she just hears “cute animals,” and the rest becomes something of a blur.

A few prairie dogs gather up closer to Mylune, while a group of rabbits hop over to her.  One bounces up into her hands, which sets off a torrent of joyful squealing.

MYLUNE:  Ohhhhh I love you too, little bunny rabbit!

She squeezes the rabbit against her, only to have it bounce free.  While she tries to regain her grasp on the rabbit, some of the other critters gather around closer to her.

MYLUNE:  No no, Mr. Bunny, I’ve got— ooh careful with your teeth there, Mr. Bunny, those are a little sharp—!  But don’t worry, I won’t drop— eek!  Careful, little bunny, you really have some choppers, hee hee!

GARROSH:  Um, is it my imagination, or are they…?

Several critters gather around Mylune, and, while she tries to resume hugging her original rabbit, a second rabbit hops up onto her shoulder and starts weakly swinging at her neck with the tiny axe it carries in its mouth.

MYLUNE:  Now settle—ouch!—settle down, silly little Bunny-Pants, Auntie Luney—oof!!—Now stop that, you little cutie-pie!

Some of the prairie dogs run in close to Mylune’s hooves and start jabbing at her with their tiny daggers.

MYLUNE:  Noooo, silly little—eek!—little fuzzy-wuzzies!  OUCH!  No, that hurts!  You don’t want to hurt—AAH!—to hurt Autie Luney, do you?  <skipping around, trying to keep her legs clear of the prairie dogs>  No, don’t!  Aunie Luney—ooh!—Auntie Luney just wants to love you!

A trio of rats start shooting BBs at Mylune with their miniature rifles.  The prairie dogs scampering around her feet are joined by additional mini-axe-carrying rabbits.

MALFURION:  I tried to warn her about forcing her affection on woodland creatures…

HAMUUL:  Mmhmm.

MYLUNE:  <tilting her head to avoid the weak swings of the rabbit on her shoulder>  No!  No, bunny!  Stop!  Please—EEP!—please, fuzzies!

GARROSH:  Gotta say, I knew something bad was going to happen to her.

MYLUNE:  <sobbing>  No!  You’re too—AAH! your teeth really are sharp, bunny—!  Ooh!  You’re too cute and sweet and—ugh!—and loveable to be mean like—like— OWW!!!  <grabs the rabbit hopping at her chest and pulls it away>  That fucking HURTS, you carrot-sucking son of a BITCH!  <glares down at the rabbit in her hands>  I try to be nice to you motherfuckers and this is the thanks I get?!  Well FUCK THAT!

Mylune flings the rabbit away – narrowly missing Garrosh’s head – then grabs the axe-carrying rabbit on her shoulder.  Seizing it by its ears, she whips it around in an arc in front of her and slams its body into a nearby tree.

MYLUNEI’ve HAD IT with this shit!  YOU COCKSUCKERS FUCKED WITH THE WRONG FUCKING NYMPH!

GARROSH:  <turning quizzically to Hamuul and Malfurion>  Um…

MYLUNEYou wanna fucking go?  OKAY, WE’LL FUCKING GO!

Mylune kicks a nearby prairie dog off into the distance, then stomps on another as she brings her hoof back down.

MYLUNE:  <grabbing a rabbit in one hand, a rat in the other>  How do you like me NOW, assholes?!  <smashes the rabbit and rat together, head first>  HOW DO YOU FUCKING LIKE ME NOW?!

MOKVAR:  Is it wrong that I’m actually finding this kind of hot?

GARROSH:  Don’t make me put a talking ban on you too.

Mylune tramples a group of prairie dogs that have been stabbing ineffectually at her legs, then snatches up a rat.  She whips the rat around in circles by its tail, lashes it through a pack of critters, then launches it into the air beyond the edge of the plateau.

MYLUNE:  <glaring around at the remaining critters>  ANYBODY ELSE WANNA BE A FUCKING HERO?

A handful of rats shoot more BBs at Mylune, who runs over and tramples them into the ground.  Several rabbits start to regroup behind her; she turns on them and glares.

MYLUNE:  ANY OF YOU FUCKING PRICKS MOVE, AND I’LL EXECUTE EVERY MOTHINGFUCKING LAST ONE OF YOU!  <looks around side to side, breathing hard with fists clenched>  Yeah, that’s right!  KING KRUSH AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME!!

Garrosh turns to Hamuul and Malfurion and appears to start talking a few times before actually uttering the words.

GARROSH:  So…that was unexpected.

HAMUUL:  You might think.

MALFURION:  You have no idea how much money is going to change hands over this back at Nordrassil.

HAMUUL:  I had her for August, myself.

MALFURION:  Ah, pity.  So close.

GARROSH:  Wait, you mean you guys…you know what?  Never mind.  Let’s not even.

MALFURION:  Suffice to say there are those who’ve…had their concerns.

MYLUNE:  Oh shut your fucking pie hole, Mal!  <looking around at the scattering critters>  Yeah!  Yeah!  You BETTER run! I…  <breathing starts to slow to normal>  See what you…

Mylune closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then looks around slowly at the scattered critter bodies.

MALFURION:  And here we go.

MYLUNE:  Oh…oh no… Oh, no, no, no…  <rubbing her hands over her hair, then covering her face>  No, no, oh Goddess no no no, not again

GARROSH:  Hang on, did she—

HAMUUL:  Just don’t.

Mylune looks around sadly, whimpering more and more incoherently, and starts to cry uncontrollably while slumping down onto the ground.

MYLUNE:  No, no, nooo…

MALFURION:  <to Hamuul>  Shall we?

HAMUUL:  We may as well.

Hamuul and Malfurion walk over to Mylune and help her to her feet.

MALFURION:  There, there…

GARROSH:  I should probably let you guys focus on…you know.

HAMUUL:  I can fly ahead and tell Cenarius to clear his afternoon.

MALFURION:  Probably for the best.

MYLUNE:  <sobbing weakly>  Mr. Thumper, I’m sorry…!

 

Okay, so, um…yeah.

I’ve got a few ideas on where to turn next in all of this, but first…yeah… I think I need a drink.

Actually, I think I need several.

Actually, I think I need a brewery.

Back later.

 

Go ahead.  Make her day.

“What are you lookin’ at?”

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 26, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

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Before I get to the mail, I just wanted to mention the results are in for this latest round of You Choose the Next EPIC VERSE.  I’m working on the latest masterpiece now and I’m going to try to have it posted this week, so stay tuned!

Now for the letters.  Just a semi-quick mailbag this week, but a couple doozies…

 

Dear Warchief,

About a month ago A Concerned Citizen wrote in to complain about the mistreatment of a Hippogryph he had received by post.  Unfortunately, I don’t think this was an isolated incident — in fact, there may be a serious problem.  Last week I received a similar crate in the mail.  There were postmarks from at least 20 different places and it must have been in transit for weeks.  The crate was emitting a terrible stench, but I braced myself and pryed it open anyway.  As I feared, the poor wyvern was long deceased, its corpse in an advanced state of decay.  It was the most appalling and enraging thing I have ever had the misfortune to see first hand.  I cannot imagine the suffering of that poor creature as it was shunted from one place to another.

I stood stunned for a moment in shock and horror, (and was seriously considering joining DEHTA myself), when suddenly the most amazing thing happened — I felt something nuzzle my hand.  I nearly jumped out of my skin!  It was then that I realised there WAS something in that crate!  A ghostly wyvern stood in the box, so translucent to be nearly invisible.  Thing is, despite being incorporeal he can still interact with the physical world to some extent, so he can be petted, confined to a padlock, and even ridden just like a normal wyvern!  I’m not sure how this is possible, but I think it might be because the poor beast doesn’t realise he’s dead.  (For instance, he still likes me to feed him wyvern chow.  He doesn’t actually consume it, but he makes eating motions around it and seems satisfied afterward.  To save on gold I found a bunch of kibble-shaped rocks and put those in his dish and he doesn’t seem to have noticed the difference.)  It’s taking a while to get used to flying around on a mount that is, for all practical intents and purposes, invisible.  However, it sure is fun to watch all the jaws dropping as I fly by!

But the reason I write you, Warchief, is that I don’t think this is an isolated incident.  Over the past week I’ve seen other people seemingly flying around without a mount.  It’s hard to tell for sure, but I think people all over Azeroth are receiving deceased mounts in the mail.  I even think I caught a glimpse of a spectral gryphon flying past me yesterday!  I’m not sure what’s going on, but if members of both the Horde and the Alliance are getting dead mounts delivered to them, perhaps there has been a severe breakdown in our postal service worldwide!  I know that wyverns have a place in your heart, so I thought you might want to look into this matter and perhaps prevent the further suffering of these noble creatures.

Respectfully yours,

–Kashina.

PS: I’m attaching a photo of my poor deceased wyvern.  I hope he shows up well enough on that background.

This…just…wow.  I mean I know I was never on particularly good terms with old Antlers McBeardyface, but even for him, this is just…yeah, that’s just sick.

What’s just as bad is that APPARENTLY our old friend Lather-on-us up in DEHTA-land couldn’t be bothered to do anything about this, even after ACC’s original letter last month, but spirits forbid I make a passing reference to browsing in a store for a leather jacket, cause then I get a dozen granola-crunchy druids picketing outside Grommash Hold and starting letter-writing campaigns and throwing buckets of fucking blood at me.

But yeah, enough is enough with this shit.  I still can’t figure out how these people got it into their heads that sending mounts in the mail was any kind of good idea, but whatever.  It’s time to start cracking down.  So for starters, effective immediately, I’m going to start tightening up security in all our wyvern breeding grounds.  Overlord Cliffwalker’s been doing a good job clamping down on the Grimtotem up in Stonetalon, so I’ll see about him assigning some more patrols for the wyverns nests there, and I’m pretty sure we can shift some troops over to Highperch in Thousand Needles now that the Twilight’s Hammer isn’t nearly so active down there.

Meanwhile, obviously if we mean business doing something about some brainstorm sending dead wyverns and gryphons C.O.D., I figure we’re going to need a point person to coordinate things.  So, consider yourself volunteered, Kashina.  I’m appointing you Commissioner of Stop Being a Complete Douche-Tard.  Grats.  And yes, Antlers, we’re talking to you.

 

Dear Garrosh,

Recently I was doing some errands for the Violet Eye – sweeping ghosts out of the ruins of Karazhan and suchlike – when I killed a big ol’ demon and discovered he had your axe in his pockets. Do you want it back? What’s Prince Malchezaar doing with Gorehowl anyway?

Regards,

–Elder Ciaroscuro (not a Lunar Festival Elder)

Hoo boy.  Here we go again.

Yeah, if you could send that back here, Ciaroscuro (and by the way that was a BASTARD to type), that would be great.  There’s been some really weird magical bullshit going on with that axe for a while. I’ll try to explain what I can.

So after my father Grom killed Mannoroth, and lost his own life in the process, the explosion that burst out of Mannoroth’s body sent the axe flying and embedded the blade into the nearby rocks.  It got flung into the rocks with so much force that even Mr. OMG I’M SO AWESOME LOOK AT ME Thrall apparently couldn’t pull it out, either that or it didn’t even occur to him to look around for it, either then OR when he went back to put up Grom’s memorial, because I can’t think of a third option as to why Thrall would ever FUCKING EVER come back without Grom’s axe.

Some point later, Malchezaar came to Azeroth and turned up in Demon Fall Canyon.  None of the other lesser demons there had ever been able to yank to axe out of the rocks, and they generally kept their distance, seeing as having the axe that killed their head honcho right there was probably kind of creepy.  But, Malchezaar figured it would be a pretty good trophy for him to pick up for that very reason, and so after some doing he managed to yank it out of the stone.  Apparently, by the way, he made a big deal about the fact that he was the one that managed to pull the axe out, and how that was an omen that he was destined for greatness and to be king of the demons and what-have-you, and by the way THAT’S when he started calling himself PRINCE Malchezaar, pretentious fucker.

So anyway, he heads off to Karazhan to take up shop.  Only that top level of Karazhan where he hung out was in some weird kind of pocket dimension thingy, like the very top of the tower was poking into someplace called Netherspace, sort of dipping into the Twisted Nether but not quite, or some weird shit like that.  I’m not too clear on the nuts and bolts of it.  But, point is, it’s this strange little pocket of time and space where…well…time and space don’t quite work the normal way.  And that’s where we get into the deal with Gorehowl.

So, Malchezaar had Gorehowl, right?  And at some point some Horde adventurers went in there and handed him his ass, and got Gorehowl from his body, and somehow or other it found its way back to Thrall, who gave it to me.  So far so good.  But every so often, the freaky bizarro zone up there kicks in, and sets off some kind of a time loop.  So all of a sudden, Mechazzar is up and kicking again, and he’s got Gorehowl back on him, and what do you know, poof, wherever Gorehowl WAS, it’s not there anymore.  Because it got time-loop-reset back up to Prince Fancypants up there in Karazhan.

I once tried to ask Nozdormu how this whole time loopy thing could even be possible, and he rambled on at like 90 miles an hour, and just shrugged and said “wibbly wobbly, timey whimy” and looked at me like I just asked why water was wet.  So no help there.

So anyway…yeah.  Every so often, the axe goes poof on me, and I end up having to send a group up to Karazhan to get it back again.  Which, let me tell you, is a huge pain in the ass.  I’m just dreading the day when Malchezaar’s little time loop thingy resets while I’m actually in the MIDDLE of battle somewhere, and have my damn axe vanish on me mid-swing.  I have to remember to start bringing a backup, actually.

 

On a completely separate note, I just got my first application for the new Earth Online guild, <Warchief>.  Let’s have a look at our new aspiring member…

Character Name:

£õk†årøgâr

Class and Level:

Stock Broker

Talent Spec (please discuss any unusual talent choices):

0/0/41 Execution/Advisory/Discretionary Was execution but fuck that shit u gots no power and kill nothing. vry misleading name, discertionary do it all

What do you enjoy most about your class?

money money money buy the best toys and other class beg 4 help n buffs

Previous guilds and why you left:

Scum of the Earth, guild leader give his girl all the phat lootz n she like cant play so drama killed that one

Something Wicked, kicked from this one dunno why

High Finance, cant take a fkn joke. long story.

Previous raiding experience:

yes

Any time restrictions that might affect your raid availability:

i haveto be in bed by 11

Um…okay.

Actually, no, not okay.

First of all, I’m going to try not to dwell on the crazy letters in his name, but…yeah.  Look, dude, you’re really overestimating how hard I’m willing to work to contact you in-game or send you a guild invite.  If I can’t just fucking TYPE your name, then the odds of me sending you a whisper or an invite or whatever drops way, way down.  I don’t speak alt-code.

Also…um…

You know what, I’m not even going to try to go through point for point and break down the problems with this guy.  Not even the retard leet-speak.  Reading it once had made my head hurt enough as it is.  So I’m just going to make an executive decision and say, oops, sorry, turns out our raids all START at 11:00, so I guess that rules us out.  Good luck in your search…um…Guy Whose Asshat Name I’m Not Even Going to Try to Transliterate.

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 27, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

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Well it looks like we’re finally back to mail that’s just for ME, now that the bottomless pile of Saurfang fan mail is out of the way.  So, let’s get right to it…

 

Hail, Warchief!

This is an open letter to the Archdruids Malfurion Stormrage and Lathorius. It involves the former’s recent mistreatment of a Flameward Hippogryph.

I don’t really have a “day job” as such. I do odd jobs for people like the Dragonmaw Clan, the Protectors of Hyjal, and I’m good enough to earn a fairly decent living at it. Lately, that’s involved a fair bit of time on the Molten Front. Archdruid Stormrage recently saw fit to reward my service with a gift of sorts. Anyway, I get home to my Silvermoon pad one day, and there’s a package waiting for me. I said “package”, it was actually more like a crate, with air holes in it. The postmarks read, “Mount Hyjal”, then “Darnassus”, then “Ratchet”, then “Booty Bay”, and finally, “Silvermoon”. Goblin Post, Fourth Rate. It was at this point that I noticed a whimpering coming from inside the crate.

Now, this is going to sound damned odd coming from a man who joined up with the Blood Knights back when the first lesson on the syllabus was “How To Punch A Captive Naaru In The Jumblies”, but…

Stormrage, you sick bastard, WHAT THE HELL, MAN?!? What on Azeroth possessed you to decide that this was a good idea? Surely, you could have sent it Express. Or, you probably know a mage or two. Or, left a note that I could pick him up next time I was over by Nordrassil. But Goblin Post? Fourth Rate? That’s just WRONG.

Then again, I have no idea why I’m surprised. What else would you expect of a man who’d stand by examining his fingernails while forty Horde raiders curb-stomp his wife?

For what it’s worth, Ted’s doing great. (I named him for Tederastrasz, a dragon I met over in Twilight Highlands.) I don’t normally like to ride animals. I usually prefer the throaty roar of a pair of Yoyodyne-Gadgetzan turboprops and the rhythmic thump of a well-balanced rotor shaft. And the occasional autorotative descent into hostile territory? Just part of the spice that makes life worth living. But now I feel obliged to take Ted out for as much fresh air and sunshine as possible, and I have to say, I’m growing fond of his company. He still flinches a bit when he sees a crate, but he’s just about gotten over that.

Anyway, Lathorius? Your shan’do Stormrage could use a stern talking-to.

–A Concerned Citizen

Good to hear from you as always, ACC.  Gotta say, that really is pretty sick, not to mention pretty surprising, considering how old Antlers McBeardyface likes to play himself up as like Grand Master Nature Boy Ultra.  I mean, listen, I’m not going to lie to you.  It’s no secret that I’m not above a little tough love when it comes to Horde mounts, for purposes of promoting discipline and the kind of toughness that the military life calls for.  But I can also tell you, in no uncertain terms, every one of our worgs, kodos, wyverns, whatever, gets three squares a day, plenty of water, and at least enough room to stretch its legs and move around some.  Not to mention that when they finally come up for retirement, they get an enormous feast before we slice them up into chops.

But yeah, taking an animal like that and shipping it around by slow mail in a crate?  That’s just sick.  Especially when you consider how much care those goblins DON’T take to observe the “Handle With Care” labels.  Dude, you should have SEEN the shape my Champions of the Horde commemorative plates were in by the time they got to me, and those were even shipped THIRD class.  I’m still looking for all the pieces of Rexxar.  I don’t even want to THINK of what the fourth rate treatment would be.

Hopefully Lather-on-us will get right on this.  He’d BETTER, actually, considering how quick he always is to get on my ass for something way less than this.  All I’m gonna say is if he lets this thing slide with Antlers, I better not be getting another protest in my front yard the next time I order the veal.

Personally, if it were ME, I’d probably suggest keeping an eye on old Antlers until the next time he goes More Than Meets the Eye into one of his kajillion animal forms, then throw a net on him, shuffle him off into a nice tight crate, then ship him Super Slow Take Your Effing Time rate to his priestess chick.  (Bonus points if she’s not able to sign for the package because she’s too busy getting curb-stomped at the time.)

Anyway, ACC, I’m glad you’re having a good time with Ted.  Rescue mounts can have their quirks, no question about it, but over time it does get better, once they’ve had time to realize that they’re safe now.  And remember, yeah, those roflcopters are cool and all, but a roflcopter can’t love.

By the same token, a roflcopter can’t get explosive diarrhea all over your new monogrammted sheets that your Greatmother sent you for your birthday.  But life’s all about trade-offs, right?

 

Warchief Hellscream –

Being that you are easier to contact than your predecessor, I thought this an appropriate time to place my thoughts, as it were, upon your plate. In particular, I wish to discuss your support for our efforts in Silithus.

While I realise that Kalimdor is a large continent and that Silithus is perhaps the most inhospitable and inaccessible area thereon, it remains a hotbed of activity for the Twilight’s Hammer cult. You yourself have seen this most recently, and I have had it impressed upon me that your recent requests for the stepping up of border patrols are vital to your present plans to deal with the Hammer. And so my druids and I will do all that we can, but… we are stretched thin.

In the time since the defeat of C’Thun, the flow of adventurers to this barren land has slowed to a trickle, and yet the Hammer becomes ever heavier, poised above these shifting sands. Why, I recently discovered that visitors to my command have of late been greeted by a representative of the Horde, who offers free magical transportation in order that your supporters might fight in some meaningless skirmish in a swamp on the other side of the world! Why can this service not be provided in order to send more aid to us in our time of need?

The sands of Silithus have seen much, but they are unique in Azeroth and still have much to offer to the brave. With the Cenarion druids largely occupied by certain troubles in Hyjal, I cannot even request aid from them. I am honour-bound to this post, and cannot abandon it. I am told that you value honour deeply. Will you then aid us?

–Commander Mar’alith, Silithus

Hey, Mar’alith, good to hear from you again.  Also thanks for your help keeping the Twilight’s Hammer contained recently.

From the looks of it, your letter actually came in right about the same time I went out of commission for a little while, so hopefully in the intervening time things have gotten a little better.  From what Saurfang tells me, while he was minding the shop, he came by with a few thousand friends and did a fair bit of Twilight smacking, so hopefully that put a dent in the problem.  Still, I know those cultists can be like roaches – no matter how many you kill, there always seems to be tons more of them.  (And you know, you wouldn’t really expect there to be THAT many crazy despairing suicidal lunatics ready to sign on to help destroy the world, would you?  I mean, even if you assume the cult has a frigging amazing recruiting division, would you really figure they’d be able to drum up thousands upon thousands of these people like they do?  Kind of makes you wonder about the world’s collective parenting skills, that we’ve got THAT many people turning out THAT damaged.)

I’ll try to do what I can for you, Mar’alith.  As it stands, I put an announcement on all the command boards in Orgrimmar and Thunder Bluff encouraging adventurers to head your way and help out, but apparently that hasn’t been having much of an effect.  I’ll double check the boards to make sure the notices are visible enough – with my luck, the announcements got covered by someone’s ad for a futon for sale or guitar lessons or something, with the little straggly rip-off pieces at the bottom with the contact info.

Thing is, though, I’m not sure there’s a whole lot we can do to get people to head down to Silithus voluntarily.  Sure, there’s the portal transport thing you mentioned, but when you come right down to it, it’s not like getting to Silithus is much more of a nuisance than traveling to Tanaris or Un’goro Crater or, hell, even Felwood.  I’m not going to lie to you, Mar’alith, your place down there is just plain creepy.  Lots of people get a bad case of the skitters just running a few errands around the Writhing Deep or the Slithering Scar – and Silithus is like one giant Slithering Scar turned up to eleven.  People go there and then spend the next two weeks scratching because they keep imagining things crawling on them.  Combine that with the fact that, let’s face it, it’s not exactly a treat for the eyes down there either, and come on…how many people do you really think we’re going to get down there rather than, say, walking in a Winterspring wonderland?  I mean, hell, by the time most of our adventurers are strong enough to be much help to you down there, they’re usually all fired up to push righ on past Silithus and head out to Thrallmar in Outland.  Seriously, have you ever BEEN to Hellfire Peninsula?  Do you really understand the magnitude of people basically being like “Yay, Hellfire Peninsula!” rather than sticking around Silithus?

I’m open to ideas, but I’m thinking that pot’s going to have to be WAY sweeter before we see a whole lot of improvement…

 

Hey mon,

Can anybody be explainin’ what “Dranosh” means?

–Bob, Echo Isles

No no no no, dude, you’ve gotta know better than to ask about that shit, all you’re going to do is open up a—

If you will pardon the interruption, Warchief, I believe I can field this inquiry.  I suspect our elocutionarily eccentric correspondent is asking about the roots of the name of my dear, departed son.

Oh fuck, here we go.  Again.

If you will allow me.  Ahem.

We named him Dranosh.  It means “Heart of Draenor” in orcish.

Okay, well that answers that question.  Thanks for clearing that up, Saurfang, now we can—

I would not let the warlocks take him.  My boy would be safe, hidden away by the elders of Garadar.

I made a promise to his mother before she died; that I would cross the Dark Portal alone – whether I lived or died, my son would be safe.  Untainted…

Yeah, okay, terrific, that worked out just fantastic for all involved.  Hey, hang on a second, how did you even get in here anyway?  The fuck is this?  You said when you gave the keys back you were just going to head back up to Northrend and not interfere with the goings-on back here with me.

Today, I fulfill that promise.

I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE.  But I’m serious, how the hell are you even doing this?  SPAZZLE!

Yeah, chief?  What’s up?

I’ll TELL you what’s up, tech guy – Saurfang’s in here screwing around with the blog.  I thought you had some kind of fucking security on this shit.

Huh, that’s weird.  I’m not sure how he’d be able to—

I meant no offense, Warchief.  It merely seemed the inquiry lent itself to an account of my own personal experience, and I felt as such it might be a boon to you…

Yes, Garrosh, he was only trying to help.

Hang on, wait a minute, who the fuck is THIS now?

Do you not recognize me, Warchief?  You wound me.  Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, at your service as always.

SYLVANAS?!

A pleasure to see you again, Dark Lady.

Hold on, you know her now?

And you as well, High Overlord.  Congratulations once again on your successful albeit short-lived stewardship of the Horde.  I was most gratified that the other Horde leaders were so quick to agree with my suggestion that you would be an ideal interim Warchief.

As I am gratified by the faith you all showed in me, Dark Lady.

Where do you know HER from?

Do you not recall, Warchief?  I too served in Northrend during our triumphant campaign against the Lich King.  I had occasion to meet Overlord Saurfang in the late stages of our campaign.

Ohhh, that’s right, you WERE up there, weren’t you?  See, I forgot about that, seeing as Saurfang and I were spending most of our time on the whole successfully-taking-down-Arthas operation, as opposed to how you were mostly concentrating on the sneak-in-the-side-door-then-run-from-Arthas-like-a-little-girl wing.

Again you wound me, Warchief.

And hold on, how the fuck are YOU in here too?

In the blog?  I hacked admin.

You what now?

You what now?

That’s what I said, only less green.

Just as I said.  I hacked admin.  ^_^

Oh man, hold on, I need to go check the IP’s again…

You hacked your way onto the blog?  The fuck?

I’m not sure why you should be so shocked, Warchief.  I’ve done this many times before.  Not on your blog specifically, of course, but…

Haha, this is awesome.

Oh for FUCK’s sake, who’s THIS now?

What, you don’t recognize me either, filthy orc?

Oh crap, I can tell this is going to mean all kinds of overtime.  I was just getting my rotation down on Earth Online, too…

WHO IS THIS?

Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, you brainless half-wit!

OMG WTF

Yeaahhh, this is gonna mean a whole big system overhaul… So much for me trying to save some money on firewalls…

You seriously think I don’t keep an eye on you and your Horde devils?

Fuck you, Varian.

Indeed, Dark Lady!

Stay out of this, witch!

Wait, what?  I didn’t say that.

Who did, then?

That was me.

Why was it purple, then?  I’m using the purple.

For fuck’s sake, do you not READ the blog?

He’s got a point there.

My text ALWAYS goes purple when I say “Fuck you, Varian.”  SEE?  It’s like a running thing, I’ve been doing it for months!

But I’m using the purple now.  It’s my color.  Would it have been so bad not to use purple just this once, for the sake of not confusing people needlessly?

Hold on, are you actually bitching that my choice of text color isn’t showing adequate consideration FOR THE PEOPLE WHO ARE SOMEHOW HACKING THEIR WAY INTO MY BLOG EDITOR?

He’s kind of got you there, too.

Not the editor.  I hacked admin.  We’ve been over this.

I seriously never get tired of watching you vile creatures fight amongst yourselves.

You would be wise to watch yourself, King Varian.

I would expect at least a little courtesy from you, Saurfang, from one father to another.

I have already addressed this with you, Highness.  I will not stand by while the Horde is insulted, however much I may appreciate the kindness you once showed to me over my son.

Dranosh, wasn’t it?

Indeed.

Is that a family name or something?

OH FUCK NOT AGAIN

Not as such.  It means “Heart of Draenor” in orcish.

Ask him about the warlocks.

WHOSE FUCKING SIDE ARE YOU ON?!

What about the warlocks?

DAMMIT SYLVANAS!

I would not let the warlocks take him.  My boy would be safe, hidden away by the elders of Garadar.

WE’VE ALREADY BEEN THROUGH THIS LIKE EIGHT TIMES

Apologies, Warchief, but…it’s just so easy!

Still not as easy as everybody on the whole fucking internet breaking into my BLOG, though, apparently!

I know, I know, I’m already changing my sign-up status for the alt raid this weekend… <sigh>

Look at it this way, Saurfang: your son died honorably for an honorable cause, far better than most of your kind.  At least this way he can be spared a far worse end when your empire of villainy falls to the Alliance.

Also, I like to talk really tough because I think that way no one will suspect what a small penis I have.

Oh and I have trouble getting it up ever since Benedictus bad-touched me in the confessional booth when I was an altar boy.

WHAT THE HELL I DIDN’T SAY THAT

It certainly looks like you did.  <guffaw>

I have it on fairly good authority that’s a true story, too.

I DID NOT SAY ANY SUCH THING YOU DEVILS!

Oh did I mention how I couldn’t perform at all until Tiffy-Wiffy took me home and played dress-up for me?

OMG YOU LEAVE TIFFIN OUT OF THIS!!!

<giggle>

Oh hey YOU’RE making him say that?

You are?  How, Dark Lady?

Admin.  ^_^

SEE?  SEE?  I’VE ALWAYS SAID YOU HORDE ARE EVIL!

Behind closed doors I like to wear dresses!

DAMN YOU, SYLVANAS!  THE HELL WITH YOU ALL, I’M LOGGING OFF!

Hee!  ^_^

Okay, you know what, that was totally worth it.

Indeed it was an amusing diversion, albeit immature; but I suppose you young folk need find your pleasures in your own way.  And with that, Warchief, I believe I shall take my leave.

From the blog you mysteriously popped into through some means I still don’t know what the fuck they were?  Yeah, okay.

A good day to you, Warchief.  Honor go with us all.

Gotta admit, much as I’m still pretty pissed that you were able to hack in here so easily like that—

I know, I know, I’m clearing out next week too…

—what you did to Varian there was pretty awesome.  You might not be so bad after all, Sylvanas.

Thank you, dear Warchief.  While I’m here, incidentally, might we take a moment to review my concerns about the conduct of Captain Bloodfist?

Not right now, Sylvanas.  It’s been a long day, okay?  We can get into it another time soon.

As you wish, Warchief.  In that case, I’ll leave you to your mailbag and return to my work here in the Undercity.

Yeah, you do that, Sylvanas.  Luckily, that was the last letter for this week, and it’s probably a good thing too, since I don’t know if I’m in a mood to deal with any more weirdness in one day.  So I think it’s time to wrap this up for today.  I’ll post again soon, everyone.

Also don’t forget I don’t really have the faintest idea what I’m doing, and the Horde probably would have been better off staying under Saurfang.  But at least I’m easily influenced.

~_^