Archive for oblique references

And your enemies closer

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

cleftofshadow2

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

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

 

MOKVAR: <leaning in entrance to hut> Neeru.

Neeru Fireblade looks up from a pile of scrolls.

NEERU: Well now.

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

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

MOKVAR: You have no idea.

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

MOKVAR: I was. I’m better now.

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

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

Did you find it?

MOKVAR: <grins faintly> Find what?

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

MOKVAR: I remember. Your leads checked out.

NEERU: You have it, then.

Mokvar looks back silently.

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

MOKVAR: Somewhere safe.

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

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

Neeru stands and walks around to Mokvar.

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

MOKVAR: Maybe. Maybe not.

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

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

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

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

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

MOKVAR: Like I said, somewhere safe.

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

Neeru straightens.

What was that?

MOKVAR: What was what?

NEERU: I heard something.

Neeru looks around, then turns back to Mokvar.

You didn’t hear that?

MOKVAR: Hear what?

NEERU: There was a sound.

MOKVAR: There are lots of sounds.

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

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

Mokvar turns from the door and gestures behind him.

I can be on my way if you prefer.

NEERU: Hmm.

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

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

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

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

MOKVAR: You know him?

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

MOKVAR: Why’s that?

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

MOKVAR: How do you mean?

NEERU: He seems to have developed more shamanistic interests.

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

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

MOKVAR: Hopefully this will be the one that sticks.

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

MOKVAR: I’m not playing anything against anything.

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

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

MOKVAR: Huh. Are they doing construction down there?

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

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

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

MOKVAR: What are you grinning about?

NEERU: Again…you’ll see soon enough.

Mokvar shrugs.

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

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

MOKVAR: I’m sure I’ll be by again.

NEERU: Oh, and Mokvar?

MOKVAR: Hmm?

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

MOKVAR: Huh. Good point.

 

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

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

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

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

I have a feeling this is going to be complicated.

 

Mokvar

Keep your friends close

Posted in General, Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 22, 2015 by Garrosh Hellscream

orgrimmar21

So I guess Spazzle already filled you guys in on the Gurtash thing.  No new developments on that front so far.  The healers say that the kid’s either going to come around on his own, or not come around at all, which personally I think is a big huge CYA measure on their part, but they’re the healers and I’m not so I guess I might as well give it a few more days before I start smacking people around.

In other news, I’m making some changes to Shayari’s mage training plan.  She’s still going to be studying with Faranell over in the Undercity, but I decided that there wasn’t much need for her to LIVE over there permanently.  For one, she IS a mage, so she can just teleport over where when she has lessons, and besides, based on recent experience…I mean…good fucking luck getting her to STAY there if she’s gotten it into her head that she doesn’t want to.  It’s just easier this way.

So in related news, when I got in touch with Faranell about the revised plan for Shay, he decided it was a good time to hit me up with the estimate for whatever the hell he needs to have done to his jaw after Shay clocked him, or whatever the fuck happened.  Then, as if all of this hadn’t put me in a great enough mood already, it just so happened that THAT’s the moment when the bill for that shopping trip Liadrin took Shay on came in, and HOLY FUCKING SHIT ARE YOU KIDDING ME.  That hyacinth macaw of hers better fucking well shit GOLD, is all I’m saying.  Are kids ALWAYS this expensive?!  Fucking hell, this is going to clear out the bank in no time flat at this rate.  Nice job, doeling.  Yeesh.

Anyhow.  In OTHER other news, now that Mokvar’s mostly accounted for himself, it’s time he got back on the job and made himself useful.  Which as you can imagine made everyone in the war room pleased as punch.  And by “punch” I mean “panda punching Varian in the fucking face”…

fyv

Because some shit just never gets old.  Heh.  Hehehehe…

Anyway.  Yeah.  Smiles all around for Mokvar’s return to Grommash Hold.

 

MALKOROK:  Sir!  With all due respect, you can’t be serious!

EITRIGG:  You’re lifting the banishment?!

MALKOROK:  You can’t possibly intend to allow this…this treasonous dog back into your council chamber!

MOKVAR:  Uh, yeah, nice to see you guys, too.

EITRIGG:  Garrosh, I don’t understand.  After everything that happened with Mokvar, after his conspiring with Magatha, for spirits’ sake—

GARROSH:  Look, I understand why you banished him while I was away, Eitrigg.  I’m not lifting it now because it was the wrong call at the time.  If I’d been here, I probably would have done the same thing myself.

EITRIGG:  Then why, Garrosh?

MALKOROK:  I’m not usually inclined to agree with the old man, Warchief, but once he’s right.  Why would you restore this—

GARROSH:  BECAUSE, you two, Mokvar’s managed to account for himself to my satisfaction, and—

MALKOROK:  Sir, whatever lies this traitor has told you—

GARROSH:  Are MINE to judge, Malkorok, not yours.  I believe he’s telling me the truth.

Garrosh looks over at Mokvar, then back to Malkorok.

Enough of it, at least.  Besides…I have good reason to believe that Mokvar has access to…certain resources that could be of great tactical benefit to us.

EITRIGG:  Warchief…?

MALKOROK:  I find it hard to believe he possesses anything that our forces—

GARROSH:  You remember the Divine Bell, Malk?  What a smashing success that whole grand finale was?  Suffice to say, during his reintroduction to the warlock world, Mokvar found something that could have swung that whole fiasco in our favor.

Eitrigg slumps back in his chair uncomfortably.  While Malkorok and Garrosh continue, Taktani bounces into the room, with Shayari following behind.

MALKOROK:  Assuming he’s not making up the entire st—

GARROSH:  <pointing back at his throne>  DO YOU WANT TO SIT IN THIS CHAIR?

TAKTANI:  <hopping onto the throne happily>  Oooh, I do, Mr. Warchief!  Yay!  It looks comfy!

Garrosh looks back at Taktani, rubs his forehead, then turns back to Malkorok (who suddenly looks much more exhausted than he did just a moment ago).

GARROSH:  Look, Malk.  I’ve made my decision.  And if you don’t think it’s the right one, then guess what?  I’ve still made my decision, and I don’t want to hear any more about it.  Mokvar’s banishment is lifted, and I’m reinstating him to scribe duties.

TAKTANI:  <sprawling back on the throne and waving one paw around>  I’m the Warchief-chief!  Yay!  Lemon squares or death!  Hee hee!

GARROSH:  Besides, would you really rather have HER staying on indefinitely?

MALKOROK:  You…may have a point, sir.

TAKTANI:  Aww don’t be grumpy, Mr. Malky!  No grumpies allowed!  <waving her paw around more>  Off with his head!  Tee hee!

GARROSH:  TAK.

TAKTANI:  Ooh!  Okay!  Right, Mr. Warchief, sir!

Taktani hops off the throne and bounces over to the council table.

GARROSH:  Mokvar, this is Taktani.  She’s been filling in for you while you’ve been away.  Well, splitting time with… Uh, anyway, she’s been filling in as a scribe.

TAKTANI:  <bouncing up onto the council table and leaning in close to Mokvar>  Hiiiiii Mr. Mokvar!  It’s nice to meet you!

GARROSH:  She used to write in to the blog before you went AWOL, remember?

TAKTANI:  I’ve heard so much about you, Mr. Mok-Mok!  I’m sure the nice things are true!

MOKVAR:  I— wait, you mean she’s real?

MALKOROK:  Unfortunately.

TAKTANI:  You’re so grumpy, Mr. Malky!  I bet you just need a big hug!

MALKOROK:  Don’t you dare even think of—

TAKTANI:  Again!

MALKOROK:  Warchief!

GARROSH:  Rein it in, Tak.

MOKVAR:  Okay, you know, she’s a little hyper for my tastes, but I think she’s starting to grow on me all the same.

SHAYARI:  Chuckles really does bring out the best in people, doesn’t he?

GARROSH:  Huh— oh, hey, Shay.

SHAYARI:  Hey.  <scanning the table>  Hey, Beardy.  Chuckles.  Other Old Guy I Don’t Know.

GARROSH:  Oh, yeah, you never met Eitrigg, did you?

SHAYARI:  I think you mentioned him to me. But yeah.

GARROSH:  He’s Ariok’s old man, if that helps any.

SHAYARI:  Ohh, okay.  So you’re kind of Grayscale Senior.  I guess that makes you…what, sepia, sort of?

EITRIGG:  …Warchief?

GARROSH:  <sighs>  Yeah, okay.  So.  Eitrigg, this is Shayari.  She’s…my daughter.

Eitrigg stares blankly for a full minute.

TAKTANI:  Mr. Warchief?  Is Mr. Eatery okay?

GARROSH:  Eitrigg?

EITRIGG:  <blinks>  I… I’m sorry, Garrosh.  I think my brain might have just stroked off there for a moment.  Did you just say…?

GARROSH:  She’s my daughter.  Yeah.

MALKOROK:  Supposedly.

SHAYARI:  I know, Chuckles, I’m too good for a lot of people to believe.

EITRIGG:  <gesturing bewilderedly toward Shayari>  But… but Warchief… how…?

GARROSH:  Dude, do I really have to work it out for you?

SHAYARI:  #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh, am I right?

EITRIGG:  I…oh…well…  <gathers himself, turns to Shayari>  It’s a pleasure, Miss Shayari.

SHAYARI:  Thanks, Grampa Sepia.  Oh, and if your boy mentions anything about livestock, I don’t know anything about it.

MALKOROK:  Warchief, is there a reason why your…offspring is barging in on our meeting?

TAKTANI:  Aw, Mr. Malky, why can’t you be friendly?  You should smile more!

MALKOROK:  That’s enough from you, druid!

MOKVAR:  Yeah.  I definitely think I’m starting to like her.

SHAYARI:  Oh, don’t sweat it, Tak.  Guy Smiley here’s just pissy ’cause I’m a walking, talking reminder that Pops has gotten laid more recently than him.

TAKTANI:  Huh?

MALKOROK:  Draenei, I—

GARROSH:  Malk, zip it.

MOKVAR:  And I know I’m starting to like her.

GARROSH:  Come to think of it, though, what ARE you doing here, Shay?

SHAYARI:  I’m just checking to see how long Tak’s going to be busy with the meeting.

GARROSH:  Uh, not long.  It’s going to be a pretty short one today.  Why?

SHAYARI:  Nothing huge.  When she’s done, I was going to port us up to Silvermoon to do some shopping.  I can kill a little time, though.  I’ll just be over at Kodohide’s, ’kay, Tak?  I can check out the leather jackets while you do your thing.

TAKTANI:  Okay!  I’ll come find you!

GARROSH:  Hang on – SHOPPING?  We just moved like five huge cases of yours back from the Undercity.  Don’t you have ENOUGH stuff?

SHAYARI:  <walking toward the door>  That’s cute, pops.  “Enough stuff.”  You’re adorable.  Later, Tak!  Oh, and Chuckles?

Malkorok looks up.

Don’t forget: being a walking bag of hyena urine is something most people couldn’t carry off, but you, sir…are no exception.  Toodles!

Shayari exits.

GARROSH:  <rubbing his forehead>  I can already tell I’m going to have to start making withdrawals from the bank, aren’t I…

MOKVAR:  You know what?  I’m going to skip right past “like” and say I’m starting to love her.

EITRIGG:  She does have a certain infectious charm.

GARROSH:  Okay, so…

TAKTANI:  Should I start scribing now, Mr. Warchief?

GARROSH:  Ah.  Well, no, Tak.  See, you were filling in for Mokvar, and he’s back now, so he’s going to be taking over again.

TAKTANI:  Oh…

Taktani looks back and forth between Garrosh and Mokvar.

You don’t want me to be your scribe anymore?

Taktani makes big, sad kitty eyes.

Did I do bad?

GARROSH:  Oh geez.

MALKOROK:  <rubbing his forehead>  Merciful spirits….

GARROSH:  Ugh… Look, Tak, you—

MOKVAR:  Garrosh?

GARROSH:  Hmm?

MOKVAR:  You know, while I get reacclimated, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to let her stay on for a little while, just to make sure I don’t miss anything in my notes.

Taktani’s face lights up, and she turns to Garrosh hopefully.

GARROSH:  Oh for… Yeah.  Fine.  Whatever.  You’re already here, so you might as well stick around for today anyway.

TAKTANI:  YAY!!

MALKOROK:  <glaring at Mokvar>  Scribe, what in hellfire are you doing?

Taktani hops gleefully into a chair next to Malkorok.  Mokvar tilts his head to one side, watching her, then smirks at Malkorok.

GARROSH:  Okay…so, getting down to actual business, finally.

TAKTANI:  Yay!

GARROSH:  TAK.

TAKTANI:  Oops!  Sorry, Mr. Warchief sir!

Taktani makes an exaggerated zipping movement in front of her mouth, then stifles a giggle.

GARROSH:  So.  Moving on.

MALKOROK:  Warchief, with your approval, I’d like to add a few additional patrols around the read gate.

GARROSH:  Is there a problem?

MALKOROK:  Just a precaution.  I’ve gotten reports of some minor oddities around the Valley of Honor.  I’d just like to make sure there isn’t anything to be concerned about.

GARROSH:  Fine.  Do what you need to do.

MALKOROK:  Yes, sir.

GARROSH:  Now for more important business.  Mokvar, what’s our next step on your sha project?

EITRIGG:  Garrosh…

MOKVAR:  I’ll need to see some of these sha in person.  This isn’t going to be exactly the same as dominating demons, so I’ll need to start small and work out the bugs.

GARROSH:  Fine.  I’ll be heading back to Pandaria in a couple weeks.  You’ll come with me, and we’ll take it from there.

EITRIGG:  Garrosh, I don’t like the sound of dabbling further with these sha—

GARROSH:  Your objections are noted and inconsequential.

MOKVAR:  That should work out.  I have a few things I wanted to check on in Pandaria anyway.

GARROSH:  In the meantime, I want you to check in with a few people as well, on a couple different fronts.

MOKVAR:  What’s that?

GARROSH:  For one, I want you to go see Overseer Elaglo.  He and Xorenth are working on a few things down in Ragefire Chasm that I think you might be able to help with.

MOKVAR:  Okay.  What are they working on?

GARROSH:  They’ll fill you in when you get down there.  And while you’re down that way, I want you to touch base with Neeru Fireblade in the Cleft of Shadow.

MOKVAR:  Uh… you want me to… why?

GARROSH:  Because given what went down with him before you starting going all off-hinge, I think he’d be pretty damn interested in the fact that you’ve got yourself a new toy.

MOKVAR:  Well, yeah, I’m sure he would, but I was figuring I’d probably be better off keeping CLEAR of him about that.  Why even let him know I have the—

GARROSH:  Because knowing will get his curiosity up.  And you know what curiosity did to the cat.

Garrosh looks to a suddenly nervous-looking Taktani.

Not you, Tak.

Taktani lets out a relieved sigh while Garrosh turns back to Mokvar.

I doubt that he’s going to want to trust you, considering everything that’s gone on.  But I’m betting curiosity about what you’ve been up to, and your shiny new do-dad in particular, is going to be too much for him to resist.  So I want you to dangle it in front of him, and see if you can get in good with him.

MOKVAR:  <nodding slowly>  And then I report back to you.

GARROSH:  And then you report back to me.  We know Neeru’s up to something, but so far he’s been careful.  But YOU…well, what you bring to the table might mean just enough for his demonic interests to bring him out.  I know we can’t trust him, so I want someone keeping him close.

MOKVAR:  Got it.  I’ll do what I can.  When should I head over?

GARROSH:  No time like the present.  You might as well head over.  I already told Elaglo and Xorenth you’d be by sometime today.

MOKVAR:  Okay, chief.  I’ll get the records written up and posted for you later today.

GARROSH:  Yeah, that’s fine.

Mokvar gathers up his documents and walks toward the door.

<talking over one shoulder without turning around>  And Mokvar.

Mokvar stops in the doorway and looks back.

It’s good to have you back.

 

Mokvar hasn’t gotten back from the Cleft of Shadow yet, but when he does, hopefully there’ll be some good news.  In the meantime, I’m going to talk to Spazzle about putting some filters on the blog.  Some posts, at least.  It’s good having these records here, but we’re going to want to start limiting who can see certain information.  You guys are all cool, don’t worry.  But some of this stuff…yeah, we’re going to need to be a little more careful.  Especially if things start lining up like I think.

More soon.

 

ADDENDUM FROM TAKTANI’S NOTES:

(Mr. Mokvar left.)

MALKOROK – Warchief, I still object to you trusting that scribe after his treasonous conduct.  Especially with these kinds of sensitive matters.

GARROSH – Malk, do you not listen to any fucking thing that I say?

MALKOROK – Warchief?

GARROSH – Did you miss what I told him about keeping someone who can’t be trusted close, so we can keep an eye on him?

MALKOROK – No, sir, I heard you, but—

GARROSH – Did you think I was only talking about Fireblade?

(Malkorok became still a moment, thinking, then gave a slow nod.)

MALKOROK – Yes, sir.  I think I understand.  I…wouldn’t have thought of that, sir.

GARROSH(nodding back)  That’s why I’m in charge.

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 11, 2015 by Garrosh Hellscream

mailbag3

Okay, peeps, time to hack through a little more of this backlog of letters.  Here we go.

 

Dear Warchief,

As an amateur artist myself, I’m always interested in others’ artistic work.  Lately I’ve been taking particular interest in the artistry that went into your tattoos.  I’m curious if they have any special meaning, like certain markings indicating anything specifically.  They look like someone put a lot of effort into the intricate detailing.  And placement.

No, really, that’s why I’ve been staring.  I’m studying.  The tattoos.

Also, speaking of artwork, tell Gurtash to keep up the good work, I’ve been enjoying watching his drawings develop.  Is there any chance that some of his drawings of you might become available as pinups?  I’m just curious.  I’d like to help support a budding young artist, you see.

Innocently yours,

–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City

Uh huh.  Yup.

#TheLadiesLoveGarrosh

But to answer your question, Tandeleina (do you have any nicknames, by the way? not for nothing, but your name is seriously a bitch to type)…  The tattoos are Warsong ceremonial markings, done by Vanteg from back in Nagrand.  I talked about this a little once before, but I guess I never really touched on what the tattoos actually mean.  Because they DO mean things – they’re not just some fancy scribbles that somebody doodled all over me at random and hoped they would look badass.  Well, except when Gurtash draws them, because honestly, he DOES just kind of doodle them all over me, like I can just imagine him spending all day working on one of those sketches of me, and struggling like hell to recreate all that awesome on paper, and then he gets to the end and realizes he still needs to do the tattoos, only at that point he’s all tired and spent from the whole exercise so he’s like “oh fuck it” and scribbles a bunch of vaguely stripey shapes on me.  Because, see, in reality, unlike Gurtash’s drawings, my tattoos are NOT different shapes in different locations every single time you look at me.  Kid’s got a good eye in general, I guess, but apparently getting that much right calls for TWO good eyes.

But I digress.

Anyway, the tattoos fall into two groups, the ones on my back and the ones on my shoulders and arms.  The markings on my arms stand for the major victories and achievements of my family line, with the earliest accomplishments being represented around my shoulders, then working their way toward the present as they continue down my arms.  So as you trace down each arm, you can follow the achievements of my grandfather, Golmash, then Grommash and Lakkara, then me.  They all pretty much look like interchangeable stripes to the untrained eye, but see, there are all these little subtle variations, where the bands get thicker or narrower, where there are little nicks and indentations, where there are curves and where they stay straight… every little detail is symbolic for something.  You’ll also notice, the tattoos only run down to about my elbows.  I had Vanteg do that deliberately, so there’d be room for me to add more tattoos down the rest of my arms as time goes on.  Who knows, now that it turns out I’m not the last of the line, maybe if Shay does something big one day, I can get myself inked up a little more to cover that.

Meanwhile, the tattoos on my back mean something else.  See, the accomplishments of my family go on my arms, because the arms stand for deeds and actions.  The back, on the other hand, stands for the…well, the backbone.  The framework that supports everything else.  So the markings on my back symbolize different qualities that are valued in the Warsong clan or within my family line.  So there’s one marking that means loyalty, and one marking that means prowess in battle, and another marking that means strength of will, and then there’s that one stray marking on the left side of my back that means Vanteg should have known to put the fucking needle down for a minute when he felt the hiccups coming on.  By the by, he’s got a marking of his own now that symbolizes that very same thing, only it’s not made of fucking ink.

So there you go, ladies.  Now you have an excuse to take a good long look next time you see me tooling around Orgrimmar.  It’s not leering, it’s exegesis!  I’ll know the truth, but that can just be our little secret.  You’re welcome.

 

Yo Warchief Hellscream,

Wazzup?  Long time reader, first time writer here.  Anyway, I got a bit of a problem I was hoping you’d take care of for me.  Could you call off your Kor’kron mooks every time I come into the city to sell my goods?  I’m a loyal citizen of the Horde and a skilled engineer, and I haven’t stolen anything I ain’t earned through good and honest–whoa I almost got that out legit there.

Anyway, all I do is sell inferior gnome engineered products to promote how much more AWESOME goblin engineered products are (not to mention that there’s less of a chance of turning into a chicken when you use ’em), but every time, your Kor’kron goons come over and harass me outta my stall!  Since I’m already paying protection to the Tinker’s Guild and the Trade Prince, if I gotta start paying you, I wouldn’t even be breaking even profit-wise!  What’s a girl gotta do to make some semi-honest coin around here?

–Glesse “Glitch” Sparkbolt, Sparkbolt Enterprises

Hey, Glitch, thanks for writing.  What the hell took you so long?  Freaking lazy-ass goblins.  Anyhow.

So let me get the straight.  Your business plan…is to sell stuff that you know going in is crap…so people can SEE that it’s crap…and then not buy it anymore…and then go to someone ELSE who’s selling BETTER stuff and buy from THEM?  So you’re telling them, “Goblin products are awesome – and I’m not selling them!  So you better go give your money to someone who isn’t me”?  That’s your business model?

I’m going to stick my neck way, way out and guess that you don’t exactly have investors lined up around the block to sink money into this operation.

So as far as the Kor’kron go, see, there isn’t any law against selling gnomish products, but if you’re causing a nuisance with your junk, then yeah, they’re going to come over and stop the operation and make sure you don’t give any more people cause to register complaints.

So here’s the question for you: When you were getting “harassed” out of your stall, HAD you just turned a would-be customer into a chicken?  How about a frog?  Did you just make somebody’s mother-in-law seven feet taller?  Did you just give some horny teenager x-ray vision?  (Fucking hell save us if that kind of tech drops into a certain pair of doodle-prone hands I know.)  Did you just go “one two three kablooey” and turn somebody’s hat into a bowl lime sherbet?  Did you give somebody a free trial of a teleportation device only instead of taking them to the Barrens it popped them into a parallel dimension made entirely out of shrimp, only when you pulled them back it split them into two copies of themselves, one with all the good and noble qualities and one with all the evil nasty stuff, but neither of them are strong enough to survive on their own, plus there’s the persistent uncontrollable toxic flatulence?

Because seriously, once you open the can of worms that is gnomish tech, no outcome is too ridiculous to be off the menu.  That’s why, at the end of the day, I DO prefer goblin products.  At least with those, you know they’re only ever going to blow up in your face LITERALLY.

 

Greetings, Warchief,

I finally decided to give Earth Online a try after reading about your adventures there.  It’s a pretty fun game!  I decided to follow in your footsteps and roll a teacher class.  I’m coming up on the end of the university starter zone, and I’ve been doing okay with the student teacher proving grounds, but since I’m about to venture off the safe confines of campus, I was wondering if you had any helpful tips on playing a teacher successfully in the big wide world?

–Gurda Ragescar, Splintertree Post

Thanks for writing, Gurda.  Glad you’re liking the game.  The teacher class is a tricky one, what with all the lesson plan juggling and management of your minions, but it can be pretty fun once you work out how you’re going to do things.  A lot of stuff is going to depend on how you’re specced, like if you’ve got more of a science or orcities (what those Alliance buggers probably call humanities) build, so I don’t want to get too deep into specifics that might not apply to you.  But, I can give you a few things you might want to keep in mind.

First, when you’re dealing with your minions and issuing them commands, you need to spam those keybindings.  Do not – repeat, DO NOT – make the mistake of thinking you can press the button once to tell the brats to do something and then sit back pleased as can be expecting them to go do it.  There is ZERO chance they’re going to do what you tell them until you click on it at least three or four times.  Same thing goes for when you try to up their skills.  You want to boost them up a skill point, you need to hit that train button six or seven times.  It will not take otherwise.  It’ll bounce right off their stubborn little heads.  You might think I’m crazy, but just you watch – try sending them off on a mission, only hit the assignment key once, then come back when the mission is supposed to be done, and watch the blank looks on their faces, like they’re saying, “Oh…did you want me to do something?”

Second, sometimes when you’re dealing with one of your minions, it’ll spawn this older-looking NPC that’ll aggro on you and initiate a parent-teacher conference solo scenario.  Those can be tricky.  You’ve got to improvise on the fly as far as the parent’s mechanics, but basically, you need to wear them down until they stop being hostile and turn friendly.  At that point, they’ll help you reinforce whatever you’re trying to get your minions to do.  Here’s the catch, though: some of the parents will be really easy to get on your side, and some of them will be damn near impossible – like infuriatingly so.  And the funny part is, the easy parents are the ones whose kids were pretty easy for you to handle in the first place, so you probably don’t really NEED help from the parents. But those are the ones that spawn more often.  But the harder parents?  Yeah, they’re tough to deal with, but they’re kind of worth it, because THEIR kids are frigging impossible to handle, so you NEED all the help you can get with them…only those parents almost never spawn.  It’s like they don’t want to be bothered with the little brats, so good luck ever getting them to show for a conference.

When you’re grinding out your paper-grading dailies, DO NOT try to do too many of them in one sitting.  If you try to grind out too many at once, your patience bar will burn out way too quickly and you’ll end up giving D’s to everyone in the bottom half of the pile.

That’s it as far as suggestions.  One fun thing to look out for, though – when you’re going around the world away from your school, keep an eye out for your minions.  It won’t happen often, but every once in a while you’ll randomly run into one of them wandering around the world.  Keep an eye open, and watch them when that happens – they will freak the fuck out, like they’re totally dumbstruck by the fact that you exist out in the regular world.  I just get a kick out of watching them panic and scramble around all confused.  Maybe it’s just me.

 

Yo, what’s up Warchief?

The name’s Grottee Metalbeard. You know, that goblin who came to see you with a letter from your old buddy Thrall. Of course, you probably remember better from when a message with my name on it was sent to your Live Blog a coupla weeks back. Darndest thing: that wasn’t me.

Turns out, my assistant Mindy found my password and logged in a few hundred times when I wasn’t around – after all, a shaman’s work is never done. That little question about the Warsong? Her doing. It’s a good question, but I wasn’t gonna ask it, so she did.

Good news is, I finally know why I’m getting all those meal deal emails. And how my old boss Gallywix somehow found out about my recent fling with an old friend, Sassy Hardwrench, during one of my trips to Stranglethorn. (I knew all those gossip magazines were hiding something from me!)

The bad news is, I’m now in the market for a new assistant. And a new office. Turns out she blew it up with smuggled explosives. That mystery boob job she went on and on about? Bombs smuggled in under the shirt. My fault for not asking for a look I guess. Don’t suppose you know where else I could set up?

Aaaanyway, that ain’t what I’m really writing in about. No, no, what I’m writing in about, is these three words: Blackfuse, elementals, trolls.

What am I talking about? I’ll discuss each topic in brief.

Step 1: Blackfuse. I can tell you’re not exactly worried about the technology of your Horde right about now, seeing as how you’re trying to master the Sha and all that. But you really should be. If what I’ve heard is true, the Alliance is gearing up to take you on. As in, lay siege to Orgrimmar, kill anyone who doesn’t run away/surrender and stick your head on a pike. And I’m not talking about your average bunch of Alliance adventurers going in and taking a shot at you hoping Varian will send them a bear in the mail (how does that work, by the way?) or anything like that. I mean, armies from all over Azeroth baring down on you with their hackles raised. Fortunately for you, I know a guy who’ll crank Orgrimmar’s Engineering skill all the way to the top. His name’s Helix Blackfuse, and he runs a little outfit called Blackfuse company. They’re a rowdy bundle of backstickers and grease-monkeys who build high-tech shredders, giant lasers, the odd drilling machine and yes, a crapload of bombs, then sell ’em to whoever’s got the gold. I’m saying this ’cause while I don’t have enough money to pay him to make me a sandwich, you probably have the gold to tie him to the Horde at the hip. Blackfuse has a weakness for shiny gold worse than the average magpie; you pay him enough, he’ll build you a giant metal scorpid with laser, bombs and buzz-saws coming out the wazoo. I figure that should be a step in the right direction.

Step 2: Elementals. Let me be blunt, Warchief: I know you’ve been getting offers of help from the Dark Shaman. You know, the ones who force the elementals to bend to their will and corrupt them into creatures of darkness. I’m only gonna say this once: don’t. Whatever neat little tricks they promised you, don’t. Don’t say yes to the jokers who think the elements are tools they get to bend in or out of shape as they like. You think life in the desert is harsh now? I’ve been chatting to the elements here, and they’re being nice. Even after you dragged out those molten giants during your attack on Theramore, they’ve decided to let your people keep on living here. But they’re running out of tolerance. It’s pretty understandable. If you laugh and spit in people’s faces too often they’ll try to get rid of you – like I was gonna do to Gallywix before the volcano on Kezan erupted. Besides, you don’t need to force the elementals to fight for you – some of them’ll do it for free.

And before you ask, I know this because since the death of Deathwing I’ve been hopping to some of the elemental planes, chating with the natives. Turns out, there’s entire armies of elementals out there without a cause to fight for. I don’t expect you to know this, but the leaders of the wind and fire elementals got KO’d a while back, like FOR REAL. Not coming back no matter how many reset buttons get pushed. Which means there’s a power vacuum in the Skywall and the Firelands – and a few of the more intelligent ones are happy to take any work they can get. Business has been good for me so far. Maybe you’d like to try it?

Now, like I said, the wind and fire elementals need no prompting, so that’s two elements ticked off right from the off. Earth is a little more tricky, ’cause their ruler is still around, and they’re not exactly big on mortals around there. Still, I’ve got a lot of pull with the Stonemother, so I imagine at least some of them would be willing to try working with someone I gave a ringing endorsement. The water boys, though? That’s kinda tricky. They’d be willing to give you a run, see how things go. But there’s a catch (of course there is) – namely, they want a small army of Horde troops to help them with reclaiming the Abyssal Maw from the naga. And not the kids fresh out of training either. Top of the line Kor’kron boots in the water is what they want. It seems there’s a few of them who are happy to serve the Alliance’s Frost mage population, and they don’t really want to switch sides without a little stellar motivation. I was half-tempted to say yes just to find out what the hell happened to that Neptulon guy, but I figured I should run it by you and see what we should do. Anyway, all I’m saying is, you’ve got an opportunity to play nice and get what you want from the elementals without screwing them and yourself over. I’d take it, if I were you.

Step 3: Trolls. And I’m not talking about the guys you know about – the peacemakers with the ambition of soggy wood. No, I’m talking about the big boys. The fellas who made an empire once, long ago. After the death of the Thunder King, they’re in a bad way in terms of leadership, and reduced to grasping at straws. Basically, they’ll take whatever help they can get, I’m sure. And let me tell you, Warchief, these guys mean business. I’ve seen them come out with some of the coolest toys a troll can get his hands on: giant dinosaur mounts, massive golems, even a few loa priests with transformation magic. Hell, you could get a lot of mileage out of them, and by bringing them into the fold, you’d be sending a message to those Darkspear morons that they’re not as needed as they think they are. Plus, you’d not only get rid of one of an ongoing list of enemies for the Horde, you’d also get powerful allies against the Alliance. Genius, huh?

Anyway, let me know how your negotiations go if you decide to give Blackfuse or the Zandas a call. And, uh, on the subject of the elementals, do I have the go-ahead? Be nice to do something more constructive than go brewing and selling the Vial of the Sands all day.

–Grottee Metalbeard, goblin shaman

We now continue with Tuesday mailbag.  Because holy fucking SHIT, what the fuck just happened THERE?  Where did the last eight pages and twelve hours go, for fuck’s sake?

Look, Grottee – and thank the spirits you had your name on the very last line there, because I sure as fuck wasn’t going to go looking – you might be brilliant and insightful and wise and skillful and loyal and punctual and have impeccable table manners, but DUDE, the FUCK?  A mailbag letter should NOT have CHAPTER BREAKS, dude.  And look, maybe you think I’m being a little hard on you, and maybe you’re thinking “oh, come on, that gigantic congealed brick of words wasn’t THAT long,” here, allow me to defer to an expert witness who knows a thing or two on the subject.  Check this out:

tiriontweet

DO YOU SEE THAT?  DO YOU?  DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE FUCKING MAGNITUDE OF THAT SHIT?!

Okay, so, I’m just going to respond to random assorted parts of that, because in all honesty, I think I zoned out about four or five times trying to make my way through that.  So here we go.

Goblin tech.  Got it.  Not a bad idea.  I might have to look up this Blackfuse dude.  Like I was just telling Glitch back before forty days and forty nights blew on by, goblin tech CAN be handy, and it’s sure as hell a better option than trying our luck on gnomish crap.

So, water elementals.  Look, dude, go hang out with the elementals all you want, but don’t hold your breath waiting to get an answer on the whole Neptulon thing.  Mark my words, we are never going to find out what the fuck happened to that dude.  It’s just going to be one of those crazy mysteries lost to the mists of time, like where Medivh vanished off to, or what creepy shit is going on under Tirisfal Glades (other than the regular ol’ creepy shit that Sylvanas is doing any given Tuesday), or what really happened to Turalyon and Alleria or whoever the fuck.  You’re just never going to find out.  Either that or you’ll find out somewhere between 4-6 years from now, and at that point the answer’s probably just going to be a giant fucking disappointment anyway.

Meanwhile…the Zandalari.  Um…dude, I’ve got enough headaches from the trolls we’ve got, without going out and digging up some more.  I mean, fuck, if that’s what I’m going to do, how about I go help Lather-on-us recruit some more fucking hippies into DEHTA and send them an invitation to come hang out in Grommash Hold, and then I can round up some of these goblin mad scientist types and see if they can come up with a way to clone Dontrag and Utvoch, and then how about I log onto Earth Online and try pugging for a couple hours, or until my eyes bleed, whichever comes first (pro tip: smart money takes the under), and then I can put on my snazziest suit and invite Magatha over for afternoon tea.  THE FUCK KIND OF OPERATION DO YOU THINK I’M RUNNING HERE?

That said, as much as I’m no fan of trolls, riding around on dinosaurs?  THAT’s kind of badass.  I might have to see about getting me one of those.

 

That does it for this time. As always, keep those letters coming.

More soon.

 

[Keep the letters coming indeed – because next week the Warchief will be cranking out an extra mailbag for this month! So keep your questions, thoughts, and ramblings coming for next Monday!]

Mak’gora, verbal style

Posted in EPIC VERSE with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 2, 2015 by Garrosh Hellscream

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EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!

GARROSH HELLSCREAM

VS.

THRALL

BEGIN!

GARROSH:

I got the Scourge under wraps, so this round won’t be postponed.
Good thing Blackmoore named you Thrall, ’cause you’re about to be owned.
“Green Jesus,” never wrong? You were never warrior-strong –
Now I’ll shove those beads around your neck back up where they belong.
Aedelas gave you training; Taretha gave you sympathy;
I won’t say what Jaina gave you, but it’s BoP.
You might as well call yourself human, how you were shaped and apprenticed;
All you need’s some beige paint and a trip to the dentist.
Your reign as Warchief was a joke, and you are as well:
Every time I hear your name, I Go’EL-OH-EL.
You left me picking up your mess, and then I watched you leave it:
You failed to serve the Horde – now I’ll crush you beneath it. 

THRALL:

Too often since I went away I’ve heard tell of your crimes,
And I don’t know what disappoints me more: you or your rhymes.
I led the orcs from enslavement to the land we inhabit;
I only made one mistake – and I’m looking at it.
You’re not worthy of your line, you’re twisted as an ampersand;
You’re rhymes are weak and I won’t cheer, but I might give you a big hand.
You’ll keep losing your supporters and the lands you used to hold;
From your mailbag to your reign, you just keep on getting trolled.
So when they finally lead you off bound with chains and rope,
Where you’re going, drop some rhymes – but watch you don’t drop the soap.
I was blind to your crimes, but now you’ve gone past the line;
Now it’s time you finally answered— 

[Thrall hurls the Doomhammer at Garrosh; before it reaches him, though, Orgrim Doomhammer leaps in and catches it.]

ORGRIM:

                                             Yeah, I think this is mine.
Step aside for a real Warchief; challenge me, you’re going to lose.
You might wear my battle armor, but you could never fill my shoes.
Blackhand left our people pinned under Gul’dan’s thumb;
I showed a race enslaved that they could overcome;
I thought that you were fated to hold fast what we created,
But the going got unstable, and the unstable abdicated.
You made a half-assed call not knowing what the pros and cons were;
You played Frankenstein, then washed your hands of your monster.
And you now, Orcish Karloff – you plagued our kind like a pox,
And locked away our people’s hopes inside a heart-shaped box.
We both tried to tear an Anduin limb from unskilled limb,
Only mine was an adult – and I actually killed him.
Your challenge was a waste of time; you should have withdrawn it,
’Cause I own you both like the city that’s got my name written on it. 

[The wall behind them crumbles to reveal a makeshift Dark Portal, through which Blackhand emerges.]

BLACKHAND:

You people must be joking; now you might as well bounce,
Because you’re never trounce the one and only Warchief who counts.
The first to be crowned, rhyming fury unbound;
I built a mighty war machine – you ran it into the ground.
Well I’m back – I was the first, the best to rally orcish masses,
Now I’ll T.H. White Once-and-Future on your asses.
I’m unimpressed, Orgrim, with the rhymes you’ve busted.
Now I’ll correct my one mistake: thinking you could be trusted.
Our bond was iron, loyalty withstanding any test;
Your oath was what a noob picks through on an Outland quest.
So bring it on, Backstabber, and I’ll swat you right back;
You pose no threat; you’d better bet the pimp Hand is Black.

ORGRIM:

You want to take me on, Blackhand? You’d best hope for luck,
’Cause you only ever beat me in a timeline that sucks.
Lust for power kept you dreaming, so you were blind to Gul’dan’s scheming,
Then you followed Hellscream’s lead and sold us out to the demons.
You were Warchief in name, but power? Every last ounce’ll
Dribble down to you for show, straight from the Shadow Council.
It wasn’t till I took command that the First War was won—

BLACKHAND:

And then you led us to internment – yeah, nice work there, son.

THRALL:

We led the orcs back from the fall your madness brought on;
You may be Medivh’s king, but you were Gul’dan’s pawn.
You were a figurehead at best, with a fel employer;
It was only to your own kind that you were the Destroyer.
Oh, but since you mention sons, yours tried to demand
That he should rule, but he got his – by the Warchief’s command.

BLACKHAND:

Oh, look, the junior partner – sad you’re what would become of us;
No surprise, though; like your father, you were never really one of us.
Go play dress-up all you want; fish for praise but you won’t get it,
You just let others do the work and then swoop in to take the credit.
I earned my place as the greatest, and that glory will last—

GARROSH:

At least till Metzen gets another retcon hair up his ass…

BLACKHAND:

Yes, let’s get to you, pox boy, we’ll finish this quickly.
You’ve got rhymes like your childhood: rejected and sickly.
You couldn’t even finish this sad son of Durotan’s –
You should have Bane’d his back in half when you had the chance.
Captain Hammer here’s weak, but he still brought you ruination—

GARROSH:

That’s only ’cause I didn’t gem plot armor penetration.
Now you two old-school has-beens, watch your legacies unravel;
You’re done and gone (except for maybe FUCKING TIME TRAVEL).
My line is stuff of legends; your alias is famed –
They must have thought you’re Tom Riddle, ’cause you couldn’t be named.
I own my every call, each choice a notch in my own belt;
You couldn’t be more of a puppet if they’d made you out of felt.
I’m triumphant and a hero! I’ve slain humans, drakes, and liches!
I ride a wyvern that’s more badass than any of you bitches!
The greatest Warchief of them all, from the last to the first –
Epic mount, epic name, epic life, EPIC VERSE!

 

WHO WON?

WHO’S NEXT?

YOU DECIDE!

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EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!

 

[A quick two-part programming note: First, keep those suggestions coming!  While they will no longer be a regular weekly feature (because, whew, these are hard to write on a tight schedule!), I may still sprinkle them into the blog now and again, if these great suggestions keep coming in and people seem to be enjoying them.

Second — I’ve decided to push Garrosh’s next mailbag from this coming Monday to the following Monday (May 11), to allow the blog’s “main storyline” events to reach a point where the mailbag will seem less forced.  After this month, we’ll be back to our normal schedule of a mailbag the first Monday of each month.  Keep those letters coming!]

And, if we turn a blind eye to who’s still around canonically…

Posted in EPIC VERSE with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 10, 2015 by Garrosh Hellscream

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EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!

VAROK SAURFANG

VS.

THE LICH KING

BEGIN!

LICH KING:

I find the irony delightful and the arrogance sublime
For you to hope in my domain that you could wield the coldest rhymes.
You’ll learn the meaning of fear now, and the chill of the grave;
Not a soul is going to help you – they’re all trapped in my blade.
Every foe that I defeat is a new minion to employ;
You say you named him Dranosh – do you miss your little boy?
I kill fathers and sons; I’ve already slayed the Younger.
Now it’s dinner time, orc…and Frostmourne hungers.

SAURFANG:

You can save your strangulation, its rotation’s gonna switch,
For it seems that Varok Saurfang’s going to have to choke a lich.
Your runeblade has a name and people tremble while beholding;
You know why they fear my axe? It’s the one Saurfang is holding.
Sucking souls; your own: unneeded. Uther’s warning went unheeded.
You might once have been the heir, but you never once succeeded.
You’re the king of Frozen Thrones, but your chilling’s getting thawed,
’Cause I’m the one both factions turn to when they need to kill a god.

LICH KING:

<channeling a spell>
I’d stay to slay you, orc, but there’re things I need to do.
Falric! Marwyn! Bring me his corpse when you’re through.

[The Lich King summons Falric and Marwyn, then exits up a hallway.]

FALRIC:

By your order, my liege!

MARWYN:

                                             This invader shall fall!

FALRIC:

Now your humble soldiers rise to meet their master’s call.
Your despair is so delicious and your fear exhilarating.
Your reputation might precede you, but it’s textbook overrating.
It’s two against one orc and even you can do the math:
Your fate will be no different – none are spared the master’s wrath.

MARWYN:

When the master ravaged Stratholme we were standing by his side,
And we saw the look Terenas made that moment as he died.
Your rhymes are weak as Silvermoon when master went attacking.
Now we’ve surveyed our enemy, and we have found him lacking.

SAURFANG:

I don’t waste my time on red-shirts but since Arthas had to leave,
Come at me, boys, in double file – now eat my verbal
                                                                  CLEAVE.

While your king walks afar
                                     You others cover and flock
To spar, but I’ll knock ajar
                                         One and another and block – so far
Your knocks may shock on par
                                         To smother and sock and scar
But your talk and mocks won’t mar
                                              The brother of Broxigar.
You took all your best shots but every one of them missed;
You’re getting schooled, children –

[Saurfang cleaves both Falric and Marwyn’s heads off with one swing.]

                                                     Now class is dismissed.

[Saurfang heroic leaps into the next room, where the Lich King is holding Jaina Proudmoore and Sylvanas Windrunner at bay.]

You don’t get away that easy, no escape from pending loss;
I just took out the trash, so now you’d better be a boss.
Orc dictator, human traitor, “See you later,” what a “hero.”
So you run, “Now we are one,” but when I’m done, you will be zero.

LICH KING:

No questions stay unanswered; you’re the answer to my plans;
For clearly yours are verses greatest of the also-rans —
You know your place, I’ll grant you, rallied by your leader’s pennant:
Such a hero, such a legend, such a permanent lieutenant.
If ambition drove your mission, its commission might unnerve us,
But you’ve cleared the way, and now you’ll stay forever in my service:
Dead, deployed, to destroy, like your son with death to bring:
In the last, when you’ve passed, you will all serve the king.

 

WHO WON?

WHO’S NEXT?

YOU DECIDE!

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EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 6, 2015 by Garrosh Hellscream

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You know what this is, you know how this works, let’s get right to it.

 

Dear Warchief,

I heard that you really like bacon. ME TOO! Bacon is the greatest. It’s like candy, but it’s meat. I like meat. I want to try ALL the meat! I tried crocolisk yesterday for the first time and it was really good! It tastes a bit like pork, but more gamey. What’s your favorite meat that’s not bacon? Are there any animals you would like to eat but haven’t had a chance to try yet? Yay, meat!

–Suirohtal, Archdruid of People for the Eating of Tasty Animals

Holy shit, this guy is like Bizarro Lathorius!  And also, gotta say, this PETA sounds like something I could totally get behind.  So you know what?  YAY MEAT INDEED, MY GOOD MAN.  I think I like this archdruid a hell of a lot better than the other guy.  Speaking of which, if you have an urge to send a giant kodo caravan to Orgrimmar carrying a vast assortment of meats, well, that would be super nifty and keen.

Can’t say I’ve had crocolisk, but if it reminds you of pork, it can’t be half bad.  Naturally, nothing beats bacon, but there is no kind of pork that can steer you wrong.  Or roasted boar.  That’s some damn good eating, too.  Basically if it’s a meat that comes from a porcine source, we’re good.  Pork is pretty much the alpha meat.  (You quillboar better take care not to get on my nerves too much.)

Talbuk and clefthoof are both pretty good, too, by the way.  Clefthoof, I’ll have you know, makes for damn good stew meat especially.  Keep that in mind next time there’s a cold winter night and you feel like getting big pot of something going over the fire.

Dammit, I’m making myself hungry.

Anyhow.  I can’t think of any animals I’d like to eat that I haven’t.  I’ve done a fair bit of hunting over the years, so I’ve eaten a lot of different meats.  If anything, the thing I’d really like to eat more of would be vegetables.  I can’t say I’ve made much of a habit of including them in my diet, and I think it would be pretty great if HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I THOUGHT I COULD GET THAT OUT CLEAN.

Anyway, though, thanks for writing, Suirohtal, and getting the mailbag off to a good start.  This bodes well for a fun time this mailbag.

 

Hail Warchief,

Firstly, my thanks for hearing my plea. I look forward to observing the Alliance reaping what they sowed when they killed my mate. 

Secondly, to answer your question, yes, I am related to Shyrka Wolfrunner. You see, she is my cousin – the daughter of my father’s brother. Our family has a tradition of keeping and breeding wolves for mounted travel and combat – not as exciting as the Saurfang warrior line, I know, but one I am no less proud of. I’m told my father maintained the last wolf kennel on Draenor before it was destroyed, working for the Thunderlord Clan while the clans were ruled by Shadowmoon and the fallen Great Shaman, Ner’zhul. 

For your wyvern’s new, ahem, ‘habits’, I have a solution. Such stains are easily removed using a solution made from ground-up Fadeleaf and Sungrass. Since the ingredients are found so far apart from each other, I enclose a sample in the flask attached to this letter. With any luck, Overlord Malkorok will no longer have to worry about stains on his boots. To prevent it from happening again, your guards should walk up and down. Animals will not do their business on moving objects. 

Finally, if you’re interested, Warchief, I have a wolf you may wish to take for your Kor’kron mounted forces. He is the pride of his litter, one of two pups who are stronger, tougher and more agile than any of their siblings. Most of my wolves are sold to greenhorn adventurers, carrying them across Azeroth on their quests or into the fray in a battleground, but this wolf, Grimjaw, and his younger sister are being held in reserve for special occasions. The younger one, Blackfang, is for my son, a present for when he comes of age. Grimjaw was to be an anniversary present for Detanga, to replace her last wolf who died of old age some time ago, but as you know, that is now a moot point.

I was originally worried about what would happen to my wolvess if any of them were taken to the Kor’kron stables, but before I started writing this my daughter asked me, “Daddy, when will Mummy be coming home from her ‘expitition’?” because I hadn’t the heart to tell her, and nothing has ever hurt me so much as telling her that her mother will never come home, and seeing the tears well up in her eyes, and holding her and her brother to my chest while doing my best not to cry myself. 

They deserve to have their mother hold them in her arms and tell them how proud she is of them. I can’t give them that, but if my wolves can bear your warriors into battle so that no more sons and daughters will grow up without a parent, I will have served my Horde well and given Detanga’s spirit cause to rest in peace. 

Yours faithfully, 

–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master

OH, FUCKING HELL, dude, how many times are you going to bring the damn room down?!

I mean.  Um.  Yeah, uh, still sorry for the loss of your wife, Ogunaro.  And, I mean, that whole story about your wolves, and your daughter, and having to… um… explain what… erm… what happened… and…  And hang on, um, I think it must be hayfever season or some shit, I need to… yeah, hold up, I need blow my nose.  Or something.

AHRRM.  OKAY.  Fucking weird…there must be something in the air or something.  Hrrmph.  Ahem.  Okay.  OKAY.

So.

I appreciate the offer of the wolf, Ogunaro.  I’ll be honored to take Grimjaw into the Kor’kron fold.  Rest assured, considering what he means to you, he’ll be well taken care of, and as a mater of fact, I’ll make sure he’s groomed for a role of some importance.  Now, mind you, I’m already good on mounts – everybody who reads the blog is familiar with Mortimer, obviously, but even on the wolf end of things, I’m covered what with me already having Malak.  But… I think I have a job that would suit Grimjaw just fine.  Stay tuned.

 

Lok’tar Warchief!

I know you answered my letter in the last mailbag, but that was a really long time ago. Like, longer than the wait between Winter’s Veil and Noblegarden! Anyway, I thought you’d like another update on my training! I still do the meat shield thing, and boy do things drop super fast when my shield meets their faces! I’m actually in Outland now! Can you believe it?! I even had enough gold to buy my own wyvern from the nice lady in Orgrimmar. I think his name is George. At least, he likes it when I call him that.

Me and George have been having all kinds of fun! We even met a nice zombie man who took us through some smelly dungeons full of red orcs and those snake people so I could learn how to warrior better! He was really cool for being a zombie.

Oh! I even met some brown orcs like you! They didn’t like me at first, but their shaman said she trusted me. Then I said you were my Warchief and they liked me! They even kept me safe from those big robots that roam around!

Anyway, I think this letter’s gone on long enough. Plus George is looking for his wyvern chow.

–Mirembe

PS: I had so many teeth from shield bashing that I made you a necklace to thank you. It has to be better than those silly charm bracelets you get every year!

Hey, Mirembe.  Glad the training is coming along.  Grats on the wyvern – trust me, you’ll love having one.  It takes a little time for you to get used to each other, but once you do, you’ve got yourself a loyal companion for life.  They DO seem to have some lame-ass names, though.  Don’t know what to make of that.

Anyway, make sure you check in with me before you go back to what’s-her-face to upgrade your flying license and kick George up to the fast lane.  I’ll see to it that they hook you up with the trainee discount.  The discount being that they charge you with an I.O.U. that they have to come to me personally to collect, in whatever amount they feel comfortable coming to ask me for face-to-face, alone in a closed room, where I have Gorehowl hanging on the wall while I kick back in a chair carved out of a giant skull.  Should save you a coin or two.

And hey, sounds like you’re getting in good with the Mag’har.  Sweet!  If you’re rolling around in Outland helping them out, you’re probably going to wind up in Nagrand before too long.  Gotta admit I miss the place…it’s been too long since I’ve been around.  When you get there, make sure you look up Greatmother Geyah.  She pretty much raised me after my mom died.  Sweet lady, definitely get in good with her, but, word of advice?  When you talk to her, when she starts asking about your life, don’t volunteer any more information than you have to.  Give her too many details to sink her teeth in, and trust me, she will try to greatmother you the fuck to DEATH.  Still, tell her I said hi.  Also, if you happen to see Jorin Deadeye while you’re out there, tell him I said fuck you.  Dude’s a dick.  Always gave me a hard time, when we were kids, about Grom being the one who doomed our people.  Like HIS dad was any hot shit.  Fucker.

And hey, thanks for the necklace.  It actually kinda looks like the one I made myself years and years ago.  See, it’s a tradition in the Warsong clan to make a necklace from bones or teeth from your earliest kills, carved with ceremonial runes.  The teeth from this necklace weren’t from your FIRST kills, right?  I wouldn’t want to take those from you – those should be yours.  Otherwise, though, awesome.  I appreciate the gesture, as long as it’s not stepping on ceremonial toes.  Come to think of it, Mira, which clan are you from?

 

Hey mon,

Can’tcha say somethin’ nice ’bout trolls, mon?

–Zim’bobwe, Sen’jinn Village

No.

Okay, okay, fine.  Ben-Lin’s been on me to try to be more positive, so maybe if I scrape up something here it’ll shut her the fuck up for ten seconds about me being fucking negative like that shit’s any of her business in the first place.  For fuck’s sake.

What was I saying?  Oh.  Yeah.  Fucking trolls.

So, okay, fine.  Something nice about trolls.  And I’m even going to try not to be snarky and say something like “Well at least they’re mortal so I know they’ll die eventually.”  Even though that’s totally true, and a definite plus.  Where was I again?  Fuck, I’m losing focus a lot today.  Might have had too much kafa.  Anyway.

So yeah.  Something nice about trolls.  So okay, here we go.

Those motherfuckers can dance.  Like they’ve got moves like nobody’s business.  Especially some of those troll girls, because…you know what?  I don’t like trolls as a general rule, but…every so often, you have to entertain exceptions.

Yeah, yeah, fine, give me looks.  Check ’em out sometime.  NO JURY WOULD CONVICT ME.

 

Dear Warchief,

After your recent (and highly illuminating) live blog, I decided to look into this Ask.fm site you’d mentioned. After entertaining a handful of questions though, something strange started happening. Some anonymous person or people seemed determined to keep asking me questions that weren’t really questions, just requests for “Pap of house,” “Pap of your room,” and maybe most distressing “Pap of feet.” I have no idea what they’re asking. You seem to be more familiar with internet customs than I am Warchief – what does this “pap” mean, and why is this person so interested in it? And what does it have to do with my feet??

–Disturbed In Durotar

Oh geez.

Welcome to the world of internet jackassery, DID.  If this is your first encounter with it, congratulations on logging on to the internet for the first time ever this week.

So…the “PAP” thing.  Yeah. I get this, too.  So apparently, it’s an acronym, only I don’t really want to call it an acronym because “acronym” sounds like something that should be at least marginally smart rather than the soul-bleeding exhibition of stupid that almost invariably goes hand-in-hand with this little gem.  But I guess it’s supposed to stand for “Post A Picture.”  So the people you’ve heard from apparently want to see your house, your room, and your feet, and honest to fuck I couldn’t even take a guess at which of those you should be more fucking disturbed about.  Maybe your feet.  But I guess that might depend on how much cool stuff you’ve got at your house that these fuckers might try to break in and steal.

You know what?  No.  It’s the feet thing.  Because seriously, internet freak shows, seriously.

Speaking of which, kind of.  Like I said, I’ve gotten these “PAP” questions a lot, too.  Like, relentlessly.  And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.  And I know I’ve made this point on Ask.fm before, but on the off chance any of these PAP-spamming fucknoses are reading this now, I’d like to take a moment here to address them directly:

Good evening, wastes of life.

I can understand why you value efficiency.  I get it.  I really do.  You people clearly have rich, busy lives, skulking around in your caves and musing over what it would be like if someone could invent some magical substance that would remove the stink from your assorted crevices with the mere addition of water.  Maybe they could package the stuff in solid cakes small enough to hold in one hand.  I’m just spitballing here.

Point is, you want to be time-efficient because you’ve got shit to do.  You can’t burn up your whole afternoon search-and-pecking your way through whole words, because dammit, you’ve got business to tend to on the internet, and if you can’t cut a few corners on questions you’re voluntarily posting to people who don’t give a fuck about you, well then, that’s less time you can devote to running around posting other comments like, say:

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Because then who the fuck is going to illustrate irony for people so they can understand what it is?  Or maybe you need to get around to your blog reading so you can offer incisive commentary like:

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Because FUCK THAT GUY, THAT’S WHY.  FUCK HIM IN THE ASS WITH A PITCHFORK-MOUNTED JACKHAMMER.  POINT BEING.  You’ve got shit to do and you don’t have time to waste writing out whole words like “for” and “you” and “are,” and spirits fucking save us if you ever need to say “you are,” because now we’re getting into your/you’re territory and at that point holy shit ALL bets are fucking off.

So I get it.  I do.  You’ve got places to go (virtually) and people to meet (i.e., to yell at online with a raging bitterness despite never having met these people in reality) and you can’t have trivial things like keystrokes and complete words standing between you and your complete and utter worthlessness as a living being.

Here’s the thing.

And I can’t stress this enough.

YOU’RE NOT EVEN SAVING YOURSELF ANY FUCKING KEYSTROKES WITH THE FUCKING “PAP” THING.  You can just type “pic” and ask the same damn thing, and still use the exact same number of letters.  IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME, LOOK, WE’LL COUNT TOGETHER.  ONE, TWO, THREE – the number of letters in “PAP.”  ONE, TWO, THREE – the number of letters in “pic.”  ONE, TWO, THREE – your total number of IQ points.  SEE HOW IT ALL WORKS OUT?  WERE YOU ABLE TO FOLLOW THAT DEMONSTRATION OR DO I NEED TO GET A FUCKING PURPLE SAN’LAYN PUPPET IN HERE TO TAKE YOU THROUGH IT AGAIN?

And hey, guess what, while you’re at it saying “pic” like a normal person who hasn’t been beaten in the head with a brick for six hours straight by everyone who’s ever lived plus six more guys, you also have the ADDED bonus of NOT reminding people of a fucking medical procedure that NO ONE HAS EVER HAD HAPPY ASSOCIATIONS WITH EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVER.

So listen – if you have “PAP” as part of your functional vocabulary, here’s what you need to do.  Go get a chisel.  Now grab onto the fucker real real tight – like imagine the chisel is your dick and you just found footage online of someone being really unhappy and you’re getting ready to jerk off to that shit, because FUCK YOU – and jam that chisel right up into your brain and shove it around until you’ve scraped all memory of this “PAP” shit right the fuck out of there forever.  Okay?  Stop it.  Just stop it.  “PAP” us no more “PAPs.”  ENOUGH ALREADY.  ENOUGH.  KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF, AND I HOPE YOU DIE.

I’m glad we had this little talk.

 

More soon.

 

Next mailbag May 4!  E-mail garrosh1337@gmail.com or submit your message below:

Those who fight monsters (part 1)

Posted in Comics with tags , , , , , , , , on March 6, 2015 by Garrosh Hellscream

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