Okay, looks like we’ve got some follow-up responses to some of the last few mailbags, so let’s have at it…
Yo Warchief,
I’ve just come back from a meeting with one of Blackfuse’s representatives. Operation Mercenary is a-go.
He says Blackfuse’s official headquarters are all the way back on Kezan, which ain’t that easy to get to what with the exploding volcano and all that jazz, but the man’s actual main workshop is a little outfit in a cave system deep underground in the Azshara area. Not very glamorous but no one would think to look for him there, so I undersand.
Before you ask, it seems he’s run up a gambling debt with Booty Bay in the last while, so he has to lay low for the forseeable future. Good news is, that means he’s desperate – if there was any chance of him not agreeing to work with you before, there ain’t now; he’ll take money wherever he can get it.
Blackfuse says he’ll let you into his workshop so you can see what he’s offering firsthand, but you’ll have to cover your tracks. The instructions were: come on down to Bilgewater Harbour, buy 2 Moonberry Juice and a Cured Ham Steak from the innkeeper, a cute little number called Mixi, and wait for the arrival of his representative, a shifty mage called Fizz Lighter or something, who’ll port you to the complex. I remember him from Kezan; seems he’s doing well for himself these days.
Personally I prefer to meet my customers face-to-face and do business in the open rather than make them sneak around and do a little dance before enacting the secret handshake first, but I’m not the multi-million gold genius tinker in debt to the wrong people so easy for me to say I guess. Anyway, that’s what he said, Warchief, so it’s all up to you now.
One last thing: as an apology for knocking you into next tuesday with my first letter, take this little book I “purchased” from a Zandalari Troll while trolling for goods. (eheheh) It’s an Ancient Tome of Dinomancy, and I think your Kor’kron beastmasters will like it; it explains how the Zandas capture and tame direhorns (they’re dinosaurs with four legs and big-ass horns on their heads) seeing as how that’s one of the few things I threw your way that stuck. Come on out to Pandaria and see what I mean – there’s this island the Zandas call the Isle of Giants crawling with them. In particular, there’s this really stubborn and bloodthirsty devilsaur called Thok that I think you’d really like.
–Grottee Metalbeard, Goblin Shaman
P.S. Just walked past this shaman in real black clothing on the way to the postbox. You took those dark shammies up on thier offer, didn’t you Warchief? We’re all screwed…
Hey again, Grottee. Nice to see you’ve been working on your, um, editorial sensibilities. You know, the ones that help you trim out those extra thousand words or so. Anyhow.
On the one hand, good work lining things up, sort of, with that Blackfuse guy. On the other hand, fucking hell, SERIOUSLY? I need to go to the inn, and place the secret code order, and… Well, wait, hang on. Two moonberry juices and a cured ham steak? That’s the order that signals the mage lackey guy? I mean, not for anything, but that doesn’t sound like a very outlandish or unusual order. Wouldn’t the innkeeper get a lot of people buying ham steak and moonberry juice in a typical week, just by the law of averages? Cured ham steak IS some damn good eatin’, after all, and what better way to wash it down than with a nice, cold moonberry juice?
(The Warchief’s Command Board is sponsored in part by Rocktusk Pork Products and Dream of Elune Moonberry Bottlers.)
…
What?
Hey. Look. A teenage daughter is fucking expensive, okay? Don’t judge me.
ANYWAY. The point is, you would have to figure random people at the inn are going to be placing that order all the time. So, what, is Blackfuse’s mage dude getting a false alarm thrown at him every couple days? Or does he just port these people to Blackfuse’s place straight away, without even checking with them? Because I don’t know if inducing spatial-displacement freakouts from random strangers would necessarily be great for business. Or…maybe it is? Like if he sells them some doohicky to teleport BACK once they’re already there. You know, kind of like that idea I had to put up a toll booth on the way in to Silithus, and charge people 50 copper to get in and 100 gold to get out. Personally, I think it would have done wonders for the budget, but oh no, Eitrigg had to get a bug up his ass over it. I don’t know, though… another shopping trip for Shayari and I might have to revisit this one.
So, anyway, okay, I guess I’m going to have to plan a trip to Azshara now. Like I don’t already have enough to do.
Dear Warchief,
Thank you ever so much for your approval, I just know Lyssa and I will be so happy together. *dances around squeeing*
I know that one day I’ll be able to show her how your leadership of the Horde is bringing new opportunities for peace, harmony, and prosperity for all of us residents of Azeroth. (Even the humans, once they get rid of that simpering idiot Varian. Did you know that the Kaldorei are matriarchal, and that they don’t really have any more respect for him than you do? Apparently Tyrande calls him “High King”, but to the Kaldorei, that actually means something like “Omega Bitch”?)
–Sintra E’Drien
I… hang on.
So you mean you’re… I don’t remember giving any… Doesn’t ANYBOY even…
Oh fuck it. It’s not even worth the trouble. Have at it. What do I care?
Lucky for you your little night elf she got me in a good mood with the thing about Varian. I always sorta figured that “High King” crap was because you have to toke up on the ol’ felweed to stand being around him for more than five minutes, but… Omega Bitch? Heh. Heheheh. HahahahaHAHAHAHAHAAA! <snort> BWAHAHAHAHA! HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!
Hah.
Heh.
It’s funny because it’s true.
’Ey Warchief,
I be a long-time readah of da blog, an’ I gotta ask ya dis, mon. What d’ya t’ink of da light show da dragons put on? Ya know, a bit of felweed makes da whole t’ing bettah?
–Zuri, Zandalari priestess of Hir’eek
PS : When ya gonna have me back for dem special dances, mon? I know ya be enjoyin’ dem.
Thanks for writing, Zuri, I— HOLD THE PRESSES. You’re a freaking ZANDALARI?! I mean I know you’ve been around Orgrimmar (and IXNAY ON THE APDANCESLAY, for fuck’s sake – I’ve got enough griefers around here as it is), but I figured you were just another Darkspear, or I guess maybe a Revantusk or Shatterspear (Yes, I had to look those up. Shut up.), but a ZANDALARI? How the hell did THAT happen? And never mind how you even wound up in Orgrimmar in the first place – how do you even have TIME to roll around Orgrimmar? As a Zandalari, don’t you already have your day filled up with, you know, being evil, and turning up inexplicably in random lairs every few months just when they become briefly relevant, and riding dinosaurs and shit?
And HEY, STOP THE PRESSES PART II – DO YOU HAVE YOUR OWN FUCKING DINOSAUR?! Can I get one?! You think you can hook me up? Is there even a place where you go to get them? I mean, yeah, I’ve heard, Pandaria, Isle of Giants, blah blah, but have YOU got a place for them, too? Because that could SERIOUSLY cut down on some importing costs if so, depending on what Nazgrim’s scouts have to say for themselves.
So what were you talking about? Oh yeah. Light show.
For anybody who’s confused, I think Zuri’s talking about this whole deal that the blue dragonflight does every so often in Orgrimmar where they roll into town and just sort of… hover around being sparkly for a while, whenever some random chump does some big favor for them or whatever. Matter of fact, Kalecgos himself used to run the show personally, back when they first started. Looks like he’s delegating now, since he hasn’t turned up since the whole Theramore business, which is probably just as well seeing as how, you know, awkward. Or the other dragons are still turning up on their own out of habit. Who knows.
Anyway, I’m not even sure what the whole to-do with the blue dragons even IS, but yeah, Zuri, shit’s trippy as hell. Give it a look next time you’re in town if you catch them at it, people. Puff, puff, pass, sit back and enjoy. Beats the fuck out of watching your hand move, let me tell you.
Dear Warchief,
WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO BRING STARBULL’S TO ORGRIMMAR?! We need kafa! Hot kafa! Everyday! I mean, yes, it’s dry and hot as hell out here, but I NEED THE KAFA! Um, WE ALL need the kafa!
It’s good for you! It tastes good and can make all kinds of special flavors. Moka Lava, chucklelate, sin-AYmon troll, express-OH whoa (massive haste boost with this one), and even snickers.
Did I mention it gives a haste buff too?
For the Kafa!
–Ruekie, Shaman in training
Kafa lover
So okay, Rook, it’s not that it isn’t nice to hear from you, but I have to ask: why are you always writing me letters with these questions? You see me in person, like, ALL THE TIME. You don’t need to go write a letter. You can just turn your head slightly to the left and be like, “Hey, boss, check this out.”
Setting that aside. You know, Rook, you might be on to something. I hear tell those Starbulls joints are all over the place in Mulgore these days, so I guess they must be doing right. And I’ve gotta say – granted, it’s been a while since I’ve been out to Thunder Bluff, but last time I WAS there, I tried some of that Starbulls stuff. Not gonna lie, that kafa of theirs is pretty damn tasty. I’d especially recommend the vanilla/dark mocha tuxedo iced latte. You’ll thank me later.
(The Warchief’s Command Board is sponsored in part by Starbulls Kafa.)
…
Yeah, what of it?
Don’t look at me like that.
LISTEN, DOELING GOT EXPENSIVE TASTES, OKAY?!
Fucking hell, you people.
Anyway, yeah, I might have to look into getting a Starbulls over here. I know there’s already a kafa place over in the goblin part of town, but the one time Spazzle took me, the kafa tasted like sludge. Actually, I’m not at all sure the stuff WASN’T sludge.
Also, come to think of it… A ready supply of kafa might possibly be handy to have around the next time Tirion shows up looking for Eitrigg. You think that haste buff might make him get to the point faster?
That’s going to do it for this time around. As always, keep those letters coming. More soon.
[The Warchief’s next mailbag will be Monday, August 3. As always, send e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com or use the handy form below!]
[Revision! Due to a reality-necessitated blogging break, the next mailbag is being postponed from August 3 to September 7. By all means keep those e-mails and form submissions coming, though!]
So, some of you might remember the other day when Lantresor of the Blade wrote to me saying – among other things – that he was coming up to Orgrimmar to see about signing on with the Horde. Seemed like a pretty good deal, what with Lantresor being a major badass by all accounts, plus him being pretty much the head honcho of a clan of ogres. Which, yeah, maybe not the deepest thinkers in the world, but for real, have you seen some of the hired help I’ve already got on staff? I have Dontrag and Utvoch on payroll. I’ve got no business throwing stones.
Anyhow, I got Marogg the infantry chef to whip up a welcoming dinner for Lantresor and his crew, but we kind of overshot a little. See, when Lantresor sent his letter, he mentioned forming a new “Burning Skull” ogre clan, and wanting to sign on… then he said he got that Mogor ogre dude to port “us” to what I’m guessing was Ratchet (where, if epic limericks are to be believed, there once was a goblin from)… and that “we” would arrive in Grommash Hold soon.
And see, that’s great and all. Problem was, “us” and “we” didn’t give me much of an idea of how many people “us” and “we” were, and based on everything else Lantresor was saying, as far as I knew, dude was gonna roll up on Orgrimmar with his whole damn ogre clan. And seriously, have you ever tried feeding a bunch of ogres? Pro tip: don’t. Trust me. I’ve been to Brackenwall Village a bunch of times to see Draz’Zilb. You know why the place always looks so run down? Because motherfuckers don’t have time to fix shit when motherfuckers gotta spend their whole day scraping up enough food to cover their daily requirement of 20,000 calories a head. Including a bunch of dudes who’ve got more than one head.
Anyway, point is, I had some indeterminate-sized ogre contingent rolling on into town, and I knew I was going to have to FEED these stupid assholes, because, you know, I’m not going to be fucking RUDE. (Greatmother didn’t raise no ungracious hosts. My heretofore unboxed ears would not survive.) So I had to have Marogg err on the side of safety and crank out enough grub to feed a small army of ogres. Which… let me tell you, that’s not gonna be a fun line item to see in next month’s budget report. I might have to get some slaughterhouses up and running just to offset the dent this puts in the meat supply. Maybe in the Barrens. Seems like we’ve got some spare real estate out there. Anyhow, I digress.
Bottom line, Marogg pulled in a bunch of culinary personnel to help – I even got our ol’ pal Ji Lunchbox and some of his panda buddies chipping in on this – and managed to whip up enough eats to cover our bases. And so, who shows up?
Lantresor and Mogor.
The end. THAT was the fucking “we.” Lantresor and his double-headed, half-brained plus-fucking-one.
FUCKED OVER ONCE AGAIN BY AMBIGUOUS PRONOUN ANTECEDENTS. SEE? SEE? IMPRECISE GRAMMAR CAN COST A SMALL FORTUNE. STAY IN FUCKING SCHOOL, KIDS.
Um. I mean “fucking school” as in… like… you know… just school. Not school for fucking. Because for one thing, I mean, I get enough hate mail as it is, without advocating THAT certificate program. And for another, not for nothing, but it would be kind of a futile teaching exercise. Either you got it or you don’t. Sorry, nerds.
MOVING ON.
Anyway, point is, we massively overshot there, so, you know, if you happen to be in the Orgrimmar neck of the woods, and you like Kickin’ Chimaerok Chops, well, I’ve got leftovers. Like… a LOT of leftovers. Like make-the-week-after-Pilgrim’s-Bounty-look-like-fucking-NOTHING kind of leftovers. And the faster they get eaten, the sooner I can relieve the frost mages I’ve got on duty round the clock keeping the shit from spoiling. And MAN OH MAN, you can practically HEAR Ji high-tailing it over here with a fork and knife in hand, can’t you?
So where was I? Oh. Yeah. Lantresor.
So yeah, the initial meeting went pretty well. I don’t know if either of us knew what to make of the other at first, but after a little while we started exchanging stories about ways we’ve each messed with Jorin Deadeye, and that broke the ice right quick. We still have some odds and ends to work out, but it looks like Lantresor and his crew are going to come on board, which is only going to help shore up defenses on a bunch of different fronts. Plus, Lantresor apparently knows a handful of blademasters from the old Burning Blade clan who are still hiding out in Outland, and he seems pretty confident he could bring them over as well. So, a lot of potential win going on.
The only awkward part has been how Lantresor kept asking about Shayari. And, um, you know… after Khizzara turned on the warning lights on that one, just to be safe, I made sure Shay was out of town when Lantresor was due to arrive. By… well… sending her off on a shopping trip. Which… seemed like a decent enough idea at the time. Until she got home with a fucking kodo carrying the stuff she bought. Including the kodo. This one’s gonna leave a mark, I can tell.
Meanwhile, Lantresor keeps asking after Shay. I may just have to bite the cannonball and try to get Garona over here.
Since I’ve been back in Orgrimmar, I’ve been kept so busy most days that I’ve hardly had time to stop, catch my breath, and really get back to the normal, mundane business of everyday life. It hasn’t just been the meetings with Garrosh, or the time spent in Ragefire Chasm with Overseer Elaglo or the Cleft of Shadow with Neeru. (Who hasn’t gotten any less coolly unsettling, by the way.) The biggest time sink has been getting my life back together in tangible terms. I suppose most people never need to worry about the practical ramifications of their own deaths, but believe me, when you’re exiled, then declared dead, getting all of that backtracked and your life out of mothballs is a giant pain. Honestly, I used to chuckle at Garrosh getting all irritable over paperwork and triplicate forms. Never again.
In retrospect, it’s a little ironic that Neeru mentioned the other day how unlikely he thought it would be for me to hide the Nether Prism at my house, where someone could break in and steal it. I don’t know if there’s anyplace in Orgrimmar that would have been MORE secure; at that point, my old place was still sealed up under Kor’kron security orders. Any rogue this side of Garona would have had an easier time stealthing into Orgrimmar than breaking into my place. After returning to town, I ended up spending more time cutting through red tape than anything else – getting my house unlocked, my old stuff pulled from storage and returned, my name removed from death records all over the place… Although, honestly, if the tax office wants to go on thinking I’m dead, I probably won’t complain about that one.
Still, all the time I’ve had to spend getting my life back together, combined with all the time spent meeting with the people I’ve needed to, means that until now I haven’t had much time to get caught up with some of the people I’ve wanted to.
JI: Oh… so… are we not having lunch?
SPAZZLE: Uh oh. Here we go…
MOKVAR: Lunch? Well, no, I hadn’t really… Are you hungry?
SPAZZLE: Wow, you really have been away for a long time.
JI: Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.
MOKVAR: Okay. Yeah, sorry, Ji.
JI: It’s just that I suppose I assumed, given the time you said to come over, that we would be having lunch…
MOKVAR: Right. But, no, Ji, I wasn’t thinking lunch. Just that we could sit back and have a few drinks and talk.
JI: Drinks are good!
MOKVAR: Okay, great. So why don’t you guys—
JI: I suppose it’s my mistake. I should have thought to eat earlier.
MOKVAR: Um… would you like me to get you something, Ji?
JI: Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.
MOKVAR: Right. So…
JI: I could swear I smelled something cooking, though.
MOKVAR: Yeah… that’s, um, that’s some clefthoof stew I have simmering for dinner tonight.
SPAZZLE: You realize you’re just digging yourself deeper, right?
JI: Oh, I see… so it’s not ready yet?
MOKVAR: Well… it is, but… I mean, it’s one of those things where it gets better the longer you let it simmer. So I usually let it sit for most of the day, and…
JI: Oh, I’m not picky! It doesn’t have to be perfect.
SPAZZLE: Aaaaaaaand here we go.
MOKVAR: Would… you like some, Ji?
JI: Just a small helping, if you please.
MOKVAR: Um… okay. Why don’t you guys have a seat while I…yeah.
Mokvar retrieves a large pot from the hearth while Spazzle and Ji sit around a circular table.
SPAZZLE: <turning to look at side of his chair> Mokvar, what’s up with these stickers on your stuff?
Mokvar returns and sets a plate on the table before Ji.
MOKVAR: Oh, those? That’s from Kor’kron impoundment.
SPAZZLE: Yikes. How much did they take out of here?
MOKVAR: A lot.
Mokvar scoops a small ladle of stew onto Ji’s plate. Ji leans down to inspect the food a moment, then looks up at Mokvar quizzically.
Is… something wrong?
JI: Well, I did mean a little larger small helping.
MOKVAR: Well maybe it would save time if you just took the whole—
Ji snatches the pot from Mokvar happily.
JI: Thank you, Mokvar!
Ji starts ladling large scoops of stew onto his plate.
MOKVAR: <turning back to Spazzle> Did you want some, too, Spaz?
Ji looks up from the food with an expression of faint concern.
SPAZZLE: No, I’m good.
Ji beams and continues shoveling stew onto his plate.
MOKVAR: Anyway… yeah, they took most of the stuff out of here. Pretty much anything you could carry without needing a second set of hands.
SPAZZLE: Yikes. Your computer, too?
MOKVAR: Oh, man, that was the biggest headache to get back.
SPAZZLE: Did they go through your files? Or could you even tell?
Ji sets down the pot and ties a napkin around his neck.
MOKVAR: I don’t think so. <chuckles> My password lock showed something like five hundred failed attempts to log on.
Ji rubs his paws together, then starts to eat eagerly.
SPAZZLE: Eesh. You know, I’ll bet you anything Malkorok was beating his head against the wall on that one personally.
MOKVAR: Oh no doubt. That’s why I made a point of setting a password he’d never think to try.
SPAZZLE: Oh? What was it?
MOKVAR: “Malkorok.”
SPAZZLE: Ha!
JI: <mouth full of stew> Daff’s fweally thpart, Bokbar.
MOKVAR: Um…thanks. Need any salt, Ji?
JI: <back to eating> Doh tahk yew.
SPAZZLE: That was pretty clever, though. I bet it ticked him off something fierce not being able to crack it.
MOKVAR: I’m half surprised they didn’t bring you in to try to hack in. I’m sure you could have.
SPAZZLE: <shrugs> Who knows. I was probably under suspicion myself by that point. Speaking of which, actually…
Spazzle starts digging through his backpack, then produces a small totem of orcish design.
You gave me this. Back in Everlook. I know you probably don’t need it anymore, or even… well, you know, what with you not being a shaman anymore, but…
Spazzle hands the totem to Mokvar.
I figured it should come back to you either way.
MOKVAR: Thanks.
Mokvar looks at the totem in his hands for a moment, then carries it to the mantle over the hearth and sets it down. Ji looks up at what Mokvar is doing, then turns his attention back to ladling more stew onto his plate.
I don’t figure I’ll have much use for these anymore, yeah. Who knows, though, the way Elaglo and Xorenth are blurring the lines between shamans and warlocks.
SPAZZLE: With the dark shamans, you mean?
MOKVAR: Yeah.
SPAZZLE: What are they doing down there, anyway?
MOKVAR: Mostly working on improving their elemental command spells. They’re pretty much trying to maintain better control of summoned elementals, making it less of an “elements hear my prayer” and more of an “elements do my bidding.”
Mokvar walks back to the table.
SPAZZLE: Like the molten giants at Northwatch.
MOKVAR: Yeah, exactly.
Mokvar looks into the now-empty pot sitting on the table next to Ji, then looks to Ji himself.
All done?
JI: <looks down at his empty plate, then smiles> It was very good, thank you!
MOKVAR: Sure you won’t have any more?
JI: <looks at his plate again, then back up> Is there any more?
MOKVAR: No, there isn’t.
JI: I thought not.
MOKVAR: Yeah. So…
SPAZZLE: For what it’s worth, you’re getting off lighter than I did the last time Ji ate at my place.
MOKVAR: Why? What happened?
JI: Oh bother.
SPAZZLE: He got stuck in the door on his way out.
MOKVAR: You’re…kidding.
JI: It wasn’t my fault!
SPAZZLE: Well it all comes from eating too much.
JI: It all comes from not having front doors big enough!
SPAZZLE: Well, next time, you can host.
JI: I will!
MOKVAR: Well, anyway…
JI: What should I make?
SPAZZLE: Huh?
JI: When you come over.
SPAZZLE: I… we didn’t even really plan it.
JI: Well yes, but I like to plan what I’m cooking in advance!
SPAZZLE: I, um, I’m easy to please.
JI: I might need to go shopping, after all.
SPAZZLE: Really, Ji, you don’t need to make anything special on my account.
MOKVAR: Spaz.
JI: Oh, nonsense. You’re a guest. <thoughtfully> Now, there’s also the Pandaren Noodle Festival to think of…
SPAZZLE: The what?
MOKVAR: Spaz.
JI: Well I wouldn’t want to repeat something being served at the festival and seem lazy, after all…
SPAZZLE: No, really, anything you would make—
JI: You’re sure? I would hate for you to come all that way and not have something you enjoyed.
MOKVAR: Ji, I think what he means is that he’d like to be surprised.
SPAZZLE: Uh…
JI: Oh!
MOKVAR: That’s part of the fun of being a lunch guest…right, Spazzle?
JI: I like surprises!
SPAZZLE: Um… Oh. Yeah! Surprises. Yes sir, nothing more fun than…uh… surprise lunch. Yeah.
JI: Oh, this will be fun. I can try making— oh, oops, I almost spoiled it.
SPAZZLE: No spoilers!
JI: Yes, yes, silly me. I— wait, when are you coming over again?
SPAZZLE: Uh…
MOKVAR: That’s part of the surprise.
JI: <blinks> Oh.
SPAZZLE: Uh, right!
JI: Well I suppose that’s… <tilts head> I should have thought of that. How silly of me.
Mokvar slumps into a chair.
SPAZZLE: So hey, now that you’re working over there with those dark shaman guys, have you been able to find out how Garrosh managed to bring them on board?
SPAZZLE: It was before you got to town, Ji. But yeah. Rumors about them were flying all over the place, but no one ever really got any solid information. All anybody really knows is that we had expeditions going down into Ragefire for a while trying to shut down whatever they were doing.
JI: Oh. So now they’re on our side?
SPAZZLE: Apparently.
MOKVAR: Yeah. About that.
SPAZZLE: Uh oh. It’s never something good when people start like that.
MOKVAR: Yeah.
Mokvar sits quietly for a moment.
SPAZZLE: Oh geez. That bad, huh? What did Garrosh have to offer them to bring them over?
MOKVAR: It’s not that. They were always over.
SPAZZLE: The what you say?
JI: I’m confused.
SPAZZLE: Welcome to Orgrimmar.
MOKVAR: The dark shamans were always Kor’kron operatives. Even in the beginning, when it looked like they were renegades making trouble in RFC. The whole business about them being some rogue shaman group was just a front they were putting up.
SPAZZLE: They— but why?
MOKVAR: Plausible deniability, I guess? In case thei dark shamanism angle turned bad? Meanwhile… the expeditions that were sent down there to “clean up” the problem were just… training exercises, pretty much. A way to weed out the weak – on both ends.
SPAZZLE: Wait – so Garrosh knew about this? He planned it?
MOKVAR: Big picture, it was his plan to build a force of dark shamans. How much he knew about the nuts and bolts… I don’t know. I’m guessing at least some of the job of making the trains run on time went to Malkorok, but… I don’t know. I’m still being kept in the dark about a lot of things. I probably know too much as it is. Hell, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this much.
SPAZZLE: Gee, thanks.
MOKVAR: I don’t mean like that. Hell, Spaz, I wouldn’t…
Mokvar trails off, looking back at the extinguished totem on the mantle, then gestures to it as he turns back to Spazzle.
I wouldn’t have left that with you if I didn’t trust you. I just mean I’ve already dragger you into too much trouble as it is. I don’t want you to be stuck keeping more secrets again now.
SPAZZLE: Uh… yeah… About that…
Spazzle looks around uncomfortably, then stares at the floor for a moment.
<quietly> I’ve been talking to Vol’jin.
MOKVAR: You’ve… been…
SPAZZLE: A lot. For a few months now.
MOKVAR: Uh, Spaz, I know you’re a shaman and talk to ancestral spirits and all…
SPAZZLE: Well, in theory.
MOKVAR: Yeah, well, the point is, I didn’t realize that the spirits in question included trolls for you.
SPAZZLE: No, no, they don’t. I don’t mean I’m… Vol’jin’s alive.
MOKVAR: Yeah, sorry, that must have been during that period when I was sort of preoccupied with not being corpsecamped by spectral assassins.
SPAZZLE: Yeah, well. He’s alive. He’s recovering from injuries still in Pandaria, but he’s alive.
MOKVAR: Okay, so… Vol’jin’s alive, Jaina’s a warmonger, Garrosh has a half-draenei kid – what else did I miss? Is Utvoch dating Magatha? Did Alleria and Turalyon finally turn up? Did Grommash actually not drink the blood—
SPAZZLE: Well now you’re getting ridiculous.
MOKVAR: Well who knows at this point? How is Vol’jin alive? He survived the saurok attack after all?
SPAZZLE: It wasn’t a saurok attack. I mean, there were saurok, but… One of the Kor’kron tried to kill Vol’jin. Nearly did. He left him for dead, and Vol’jin’s had his supporters keeping up the lie that he is dead since then.
MOKVAR: Oh fel… And Garrosh…?
SPAZZLE: Doesn’t know. And he can’t find out.
MOKVAR: So… you mean he…?
SPAZZLE: Yeah.
MOKVAR: You’re sure? I don’t know why I’m even surprised, but… you’re sure?
SPAZZLE: The Kor’kron staged a takeover of the Echo Isles right after word of Vol’jin’s death broke.
MOKVAR: Spirits…
SPAZZLE: They had the place under military occupation until Thrall and a few others overthrew them.
MOKVAR: Does Garrosh know about this? I can’t imagine he does, otherwise – and I can’t believe I’m about to say this – I have to figure he would be in a much worse mood these days.
SPAZZLE: No, he doesn’t. Only a few people do.
MOKVAR: But how? I can see the Vol’jin thing being kept quiet, okay, but how could he not have found out about this?
SPAZZLE: There were still a few Kor’kron who trained under Saurfang, who are loyal to Thrall. Captain Gort, a few others… They’ve been reporting to Orgrimmar and maintaining the appearance that the occupation is still going on.
MOKVAR: Spaz… you have to know where this is heading.
SPAZZLE: <nods> I’ve been trying not to think about it.
MOKVAR: So you haven’t told Garrosh… Are you…?
SPAZZLE: <shakes his head> I haven’t been doing anything for them other than keeping quiet. I told Vol’jin before… I won’t work against him and Thrall, but I won’t betray Garrosh, either.
MOKVAR: You know if he finds out about this…
SPAZZLE: I know.
MOKVAR: Especially after… oh, man, Spaz, I’m sorry I dragged you into my whole mess. Both of you.
JI: You didn’t do anything. You’re a friend. You needed help. <shrugs> Anything else is just distraction.
SPAZZLE: Don’t worry about me, Mokvar. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is.
JI: <perking up> Wait, is there another plate?
SPAZZLE: Figuratively, Ji, figuratively…
VOICE: Well, there is…
A whooshing sound is heard, then, in the empty chair next to Mokvar, Deliana unstealths, holding a plate of what appears to be a few leftover bites of stew.
DELIANA: I had to move fast just to get a mouthful for myself before you inhaled it all.
Mokvar eyes a surprised Spazzle and Ji, then shrugs.
MOKVAR: What’s one more layer of compromise at this point, right?
SPAZZLE: Oh…man.
JI: Does Garrosh know she’s—?
MOKVAR: What do you think, Ji?
DELIANA: There aren’t exactly a lot of Alliance-looking types strolling around Orgrimmar unkilled.
JI: Well, that Shayari is a draenei…
DELIANA: Oh, don’t get me started on little miss fancy-hooves.
MOKVAR: You’re just mad because she turned you into a sheep.
DELIANA: Oh, good, annoy your security net. That’s a smart plan.
MOKVAR: I’m just saying.
SPAZZLE: So wait, how long have you been in Orgrimmar?
MOKVAR: Pretty much as long as I have.
DELIANA: I’ve had to sneak in and out a few times, but yeah.
SPAZZLE: What have you been doing?
DELIANA: Mostly giving Mokvar an extra set of eyes that no one knows is there. And some help on stand-by in case something goes bad.
MOKVAR: With everything that’s going on with the shamans, and Neeru, and… hell, I can’t even be sure Malkorok might not still try something at some point.
DELIANA: I can watch his back, and stealth around to check on things. And if nothing else, we know I don’t have anyone I have to answer to.
SPAZZLE: Yeah. You’re lucky that way.
Everyone sits quietly for a moment, looking back and forth between them.
MOKVAR: Well… whatever happens from here on, one way or another, I guess we’re all in it together now.
JI: Weren’t we always?
MOKVAR: You’re a good kid, Ji.
SPAZZLE: So… question is… what side are we on?
Mokvar looks back at Spazzle uneasily, then glances to Deliana. Spazzle exchanges looks with Mokvar and Ji, while Deliana leans forward against the table, drumming her fingers. Ji returns Spazzle’s glance, then turns to Mokvar and Deliana before looking back down at his plate. He considers the last bit of potato for a moment, then nudges the plate away from him and slumps back in his chair.
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.
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”…
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.
So hey, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. This seems like as good a time as any. And I guess the main thing to talk about is what’s on everybody’s mind these days: Gurtash.
Like you all probably gathered from the top of Garrosh’s mailbag from the other day, Gurtash made it to the healers okay. Well, not okay, but you know what I mean. Ji and I were able to keep him stable enough after we left Blackrock Spire to get him over to the shamans in the Valley of Wisdom. From that point, we were pretty much relegated to hovering around while the healers did their thing. Better them than me. They ended up working on him nonstop until Garrosh and the others made it back, and they kept at it off and on for a good long while after that.
So, there’s good news and bad news.
The good news is that the healers got Gurtash stabilized. It was dodgy for a while, but Gurtash survived. He’s resting now at a place at the edge of the Drag, just off the Valley of Wisdom, where the healers can check in on him easily enough.
The bad news is that he’s still unconscious, and there’s no telling how long he’ll be that way before he wakes up. If he wakes up. The swipe he took from that spectral assassin did some major damage… the shamans did everything they could to patch him up… but at this point they say it’s pretty much up to Gurtash. Either his body will finish healing on its own and he comes out of it, or…well, he doesn’t. So at this point, there’s not much left for any of us to do other than wait.
Garrosh has been going over to check on him pretty much from the minute he got back to Orgrimmar. When he first got the news about Gurtash’s condition, he…well, he was less than pleased about the…um…insufficient progress. I thought he was going to invoke some kind of loophole or technicality in that whole “if Gurtash dies, so do they” message he gave me for the healers, but he just yelled a while and then stormed off. When I went looking for him a little later, he was hanging around the Kor’kron stables. He’s been going there pretty often the last couple of days, in between checking on Gurtash and doing his usual work over at Grommash Hold. I’m not sure why. From what I can tell, he’s mostly just standing around in the stables, looking at this one wolf, one that a mailbag writer recently donated – Grimjaw, I think he name was. The wolf, I mean. Not the mailbag writer. You can never be sure with orc names, you know? Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure there’s a Sergeant Grimjaw working down at Razor Hill.
Anyway, I’m not sure what that’s about. I guess we all deal with things in our own ways. In the meantime, we’re all just sort of spinning our wheels while we wait. And maybe once in a while manage to go about our normal daily business and convince ourselves it’s still a normal day.
Just got back to Orgrimmar a little while ago. I checked in with the shamans over in the Valley of Wisdom about Gurtash. They’re still working on him, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to have anything solid to say for a while yet. All we really know right now is that that spectral minion got him good…the fucker managed to get a good rip in on the kid in exactly the wrong areas, the head and chest. They made it sound like they’re not going to able to say much for sure for a while still, so apparently I’m just going to have to kill time till then. So, I guess this is as good a time as any to clear out some more of this mail backlog.
So… the last mailbag made an impression for sure, what with it including a letter from some goblin guy that ran on for so long that I’m fairly sure I still won’t finish reading it until sometime next Tuesday. With that in mind…
Dat quite da letter, Grottee Metalbeard. I’d recommend splittin’ it into more paragraphs next time, though. Ol’ Garry — *quickly scratches out the former and substitutes in “Warchief” — can only handle so much.
–Alayea
P.S. Though Fordring say he speechless, he sure ain’t one ta talk. =P
Oh, Fordring is one to talk, Alayea. To talk, and talk, and talk, and oh, by the way, did I mention talk? But yeah…that was a letter and a half last time. Actually, it was more like 6.2 letters. Maybe more. No less, though. You’d be amazed what a difference even a tenth of a letter makes. 6.1 would contain surprisingly little content.
Eheheh, sorry about all that Warchief. I was on a Kaja’cola binge when I wrote my letter.
Anyway, I’ll drop Blackfuse a line to let him know you’re interested. Protip: The key to keeping his attention is to keep mentioning money.
–Grotte Metalbeard
Oh, and check it out, look who’s back. So…how much Kaja’cola did you choke down before you wrote that letter? Is there any left? Anywhere? Or is that shit just really potent? I can’t say I’ve ever tried the stuff, so I’m not really in much position to say. Sounds like it has the same kind of effect as that kafa stuff from Pandaria that Ruekie’s always drinking. Man, you should see her with a couple cups of that stuff in her. Haste buff like you wouldn’t believe. I’m at least 50% sure one more cup would shave all her spells down to instant cast.
Anyway, yeah, feel free to contact that Blackfuse dude for me. Might be a good idea for you let me know where I can reach him so I can see about making contact directly, too. Is he over in the goblin part of town in Orgrimmar, or up in Azshara, or doing business somewhere else? Either way, yeah, I kind of figured the way to his heart was through his wallet. I mean, come on, he’s a goblin. I know how you guys are wired.
Oh, and before all you crybabies get your panties in a bunch about me saying that, because racist this and stereotype that and boo hoo hoo, I give you Exhibit A:
Yo Big G,
Got another question for ya! What’s the big deal with my fellow Horde members shirking their duty in Alterac Valley? Are the Frostwolves really a bunch of pansies now that Big T went all hippy peace and love, or are they just scared of the beards on them Stormpikes? If it’s the beards, I totally got an answer for that!
You see my company, Sparkbolt Enterprises, has recently come into some great explosives. And by great, I mean “how in the burning hells is this stuff still legal?!” We pack it up nice and tight in the best elementium plating we can find (and boy howdy was there a TON of that stuff lying around when Deathwing was killed off), primed and ready to be launched at the face of any Alliance foe you can imagine! I like to call it the Sparkbolt Facemelter™! For best results, aim at dwarves or the sissy pandas that went for the Blue and Gold. It’s like watching an explosive sheep in an oil refinery! Just watch out for friendly fire and people within range of the discharge explosion. Also, wear heavy protective armor when setting one of these bad boys off! My, uh, my cousin Vinny didn’t and his face literally got melted. Makes the family reunions awkward, I can tell ya that much. 10,000 gold will get ya 100 quality Facemelters, primed and ready to roll! (shipping and handling is an extra 5,000. We disavow any responsibility, legal, moral, or otherwise, for misuse or improper storage of our products.)
*attached is a handy order form and catalogue for other Sparkbolt products*
Pleasure doing business with ya,
–Glessee “Glitch” Sparkbolt, Founder and CEO of Sparkbolt Enterprises
Yeah. So. Thanks?
But okay…I want to make sure I’m following this correctly, because listen, if there’s one guy you DON’T have to sell on the idea of blowing up Allies, it’s me. Like it’s really, REALLY me. So… you’re trying to sell me explosives that you have to armor yourself to the teeth just to use, and still stay out of the range…hang on, what IS the “range of the discharge explosion”? Like how far away from this thing do you have to BE? Because you’re making it sound pretty damn huge, which would mean that it would be nearly impossible even to USE the damn thing without being taken out by it. Which means the only way I could even put these things into action would be to use my own people as living cannon fodder, and send them out there armed with these things to blow up targets knowing full well they’re gonna get melted themselves. Which sounds like it’s straight out of Psychotic War of Attrition 101.
So what I’m telling you is, I’ll go as high as 8000 for the pack of 100, shipped, but you’re not getting a copper more than that.
Fucking price-gouging goblins.
Heya warchief,
Being a big fan of your poetic skills, I just have to say,
There once was a goblin from Ratchet.
Go!
–Whizzy Greaseknuckle, from a neutral coastal town that may or may not be in the Northern Barrens
The fuck is up with all the goblins this time around? Is there some kind of coupon going around online for a “free with proof of your letter to Garrosh” deal or some shit?
Anyhow, though, you know what? You’re on.
There once was a goblin from Ratchet Whose wits weren’t as sharp as a hatchet. She launched a Facemelter™, Ducked in her bomb shelter, But, sadly, neglected to latch it.
EPIC VERSE!
Hello, Hellscream,
I am Lantresor of the Blade. Perhaps you do not remember me, though I do remember you. If you do remember me, it’s probably about how my clan, the Boulderfist ogres, attacked the village of your friend Jorin Deadeye – which they did, but the peace settlement I made with you should make that square.
At any rate, I’m writing in from the Burning Blade Ruins because I noticed you have a daughter – Shayari, was it? – who is half-orc and half-draenei. That makes at least three of us in this world, I see – her, Garona Halforcen and myself. I am the inversion of your daughter, physically our unique my body is that of an orc with draenei traits; notably, I am taller than an average orc, my shoulders are broader and my skin is an off-blue colour.
I sympathise with her experiences – they are not unlike those of my own. My father was a draenei scout, my mother an orc of the Burning Blade Clan. Sadly, the blood war between my parents’ people came when I was young. My mother raised me alone as best she could, my father being too dead to help, but in the end, I am half-orc and half-draenei – because of which, in the end I would be seen as neither.
I had barely completed my rite of passage when my enemies in the clan had me cast out shortly after they came to power. My father’s people, as you can imagine, could not bare to look upon me, for I was a reflection of their death. I was fortunate enough to still find a place in the Horde, where I would serve under the banner of two warchiefs. Now, though, I bow to no one. Instead, I am a ruler. A ruler of ogres.
Most of our kind were wiped out decades ago, though who was most responsible I do not know. I do know, however, that most would live their lives as outcasts, labelled and cast aside. Victims of their heritage. This world is no good to those of us who are half- anything. We stand forever apart; few know us, and fewer still understand us. For that reason I carry immense respect for Rexxar and his kind, the Mok’Nathal. They have lived as outcasts even longer than I have, yet they remain strong, if insular and distrusftul.
I write this letter not seeking your pity, but as a gesture to your daughter. The things she and I have been forced to learn, the things we have endured and suffered, the rejection, the shame… they are things only the children of orcs and draenei can know. If she has lived this long, it is a testament to her strength and independence; not all such children had it in them to take on the challenges and struggles our unique heritage presents. I, for one, applaud her, inasmuch as that means anything to either of you.
As an addendum, tell your daughter the next time you see her that she is not alone as a half-orc/draenei. Tell her that Lantresor of the Blade knows and understands – and finally, that if she ever needs my aid, or that of Boulderfist, she has only to ask.
–Lantresor of the Blade
Huh. Well THAT’S someone I wasn’t expecting to get a letter from. Not least of all because I wouldn’t have guessed Lantresor read the blog. Actually, hang on – the ogres out in Nagrand have INTERNET access? Grizzle Fucking Gearslip can’t set up a wireless network in Domination Point that doesn’t make the computer literally urinate on the desk, but the fucking OGRES on a shattered planet have GOOGLE? How the hell did THAT happen?!
Anyway.
I do remember you, Lantresor. Although, not for nothing, but I wouldn’t go do far as calling Jorin my “friend.” Yeah, we both grew up in Garadar, but he was…well, he was always kind of a dick. Especially once he got wind of some of the uglier details about Grom, and decided it would be a hoot of a good time to keep reminding me of them at every turn. So, you know, that whole thing where you rolling his village. Boo hoo. Fuck ’im.
Anyhow, thanks for reaching out about Shayari. I haven’t really thought that much about the whole half-breed thing, but it probably makes sense that she’d do well to have someone she can talk to who’s in the same boat. And considering the only other option for that would be Garona, well…yeah… I don’t really know you, Lantresor, but I’m pretty sure you’d be the better option. Seeing as I haven’t seen any overt signs of fucking migraine-inducing crazy from you. Plus, Garona seems to get all cranky whenever anybody mentioned Shay around her. Who knows.
As it happens, I think one of my trainees is on track to be around your neck of the woods soon, so if it’s all good by you, I may have her swing by your way to introduce herself. Think of her as sort of an emissary, entrusted with a crucial matter of cross-cultural diplomacy because…well…she was going to be in the neighborhood anyway. So if a young orc by the name of Mirembe comes toddling on over, try not to have your ogre buddies step on her. She’s not as squishy as a lot of kids her age, and more than a little better at shield-slamming, but still, you know, why court trouble?
And speaking of whom…
Lok’tar again Warchief!
I know I’ve been writing in a lot, but it’s better to hear how my training goes here than in some silly report, right? And since you asked, I’m a Warsong orc too! My parents were grunts in Grom’s squad during the Third War. The necklace wasn’t from my first kills, so don’t worry!
I made it to Nagrand at last! Your Greatmother is awesome! She welcomed me, sat me down, and gave me a big bowl of clefthoof stew. I think I might gain weight out here from how often she asks me if I wanna eat something. If it’s not stew, it’s talbuk steak. If it’s not taking steak, it’s frenzy fish fry. She even offered me a sandwich made from leftover clefthoof roast one night after dinner! I won’t complain, though. The extra pounds might help me with a problem I’ve been having out here.
I met that Jorin guy. He seemed pretty crabby about some ogres or something. I wasn’t paying much attention until he told me to go kill those ogres. How long has this been going on with him? Anyway, to get back to my problem, he looks at me in creepy ways. Like how I’ve seen orcs in Shattrath stare at those draae…drenn…spacegoat girls. It’s gotten so bad, I stay with Greatmother most of the time now. What can I do to make him stop? Even threatening to smash his skull with my shield doesn’t work!
Help!
–Mirembe
Hey, Mirembe. Glad to hear the training is coming along. Just make sure you watch your portions while you’re out there – Greatmother piles the food on any guests who show up in town, and packing on the extra points isn’t going to do any favors to your dodge rating. Sure, she’s a nice old lady and everything, but you still need to be able to tell her “no thank you,” and then, when “no thank you” doesn’t even slow her down when she’s ladling out your ninth serving of clefthoof stew, you need to be able to get up from the table and walk away. And then keep walking, because she will FOLLOW your ass around town trying to get you to eat up, because you’re getting too skinny, and for FUCK’S sake make sure you keep a good pace going so you can stay ahead of her. She might be an old woman, but she’s fucking SPRY.
As for Jorin, speak of the devil, I was just answering another letter from this guy who…
Hang on.
You’re saying Jorin had you out killing ogres? Ogres that he was all cranky about? Like…the ogres who attacked his village back in the day… and who I arranged a TRUCE with way back before I moved to Orgrimmar? The ogres who are… um… led by…Lantresor of the Blade, who was JUST writing to me and trying to be nice and shit, and who I told I was going to send you to as a kind of emissary, only that was before I knew you were running around killing his fucking people, because evidently, according to Jorin, having a cease-fire in place for like five years is no reason not to send unsuspecting noobs (no offense, Mira) to KILL the people we have the cease-fire with because stomp stomp hissy fit? THOSE ogres?
FOR FUCK’S SAKE, JORIN. I mean, seriously. Fuck that guy. Um…not literally, Mirembe. Not literally. You don’t want to encourage him. Like at all.
And speaking of Jorin and his leering… yeah. He was always kind of a creeper. Twice the creepy looks with half the eyes. The best thing to do, really, it probably to try to steer clear of him. But you want to know the real secret weapon? Next time you catch Jorin popping his one good peeper at you, high-tail it over to Greatmother and fill her in on what he’s been up to. Believe me, that old lady doesn’t put up with any crap, and I can tell you from first-hand experience that if he sets her off, she will drop the clefthoof stew in two seconds flat to run over there and serve up a big steaming bowl of Pull Your Head Out of Your Fucking Ass, Jorin.
If THAT doesn’t work…hoo boy. All I can think of at that point if to remind the fucker that he’s already down to just one good eye, and if he can’t keep THAT eye from ogling where it shouldn’t be, SOMEBODY might have to take that one, too. Which may or may not give him an updated vision of how he’s going to die.
Maybe THAT’ll finally get through to him. Because, you know, it’s all fun and games until someone loses and eye, but it’s even BIGGER fun when they lose the other…
Erm…
Never mind.
I’m going to wrap up here. I’ve got to head over to the Valley of Wisdom and check in. On a few things. Keep the letters coming, e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com, handy form below, yadda yadda.
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!
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!]
Here we go! As promised a few days ago, tonight the Warchief of the Horde (current or former, depending on how you count, because timey-whimey), Garrosh Hellscream, will answer any questions you’d care to throw at him! If you can see this post, then the floor is now open for questions. You can submit your question to the Warchief through any number of means: as a comment on this post, an e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com, a tweet to @GarroshHllscrm, an inquiry posted to Ask.fm, or a message through Garrosh’s Facebook or Google+ (feel free to add him on any and all of these, by the way!).
As I’ve noted before, there are a few simple ground rules for questions:
No spoilers! Garrosh’s blog incarnation is currently living out the events of the Patch 5.2 timeframe. If you’d like to include some sort of comical nod or foreshadowing toward future events in your question, feel free! But questions explicitly referencing events that have not yet occurred in the blog will not be answered.
No anonymous questions will be answered. You can submit your question under your in-game character name, a blogging pseudonym, a Twitter handle, whatever, but there must be an author to whom your question can be attributed.
This should probably go without saying, but no questions will be answered that are clearly engaged in harassing, trolling (not you, Bob), antagonizing, or generally disregarding the fun intentions of the endeavor. Questions that seem to disregard, willfully or accidentally, the fundamental premises of the blog (check here for the basics, here if you’re feeling ambitious) will either be ignored or, perhaps, answered in a…derisive manner.
How it works: The live blog proper will begin at 8:30 PM EST (give or take a few minutes). All questions will be added to this post. Refresh this page periodically to check for updates! I expect some responses will come quickly, while others may take a little longer, depending on what sort of response is called for.
While I will never alter the substance of your question, I reserve the right to make minor edits to correct errors (i.e., you refer to Spazzle when you clearly mean Gurtash) or to delete something spoiler-ish from an otherwise good question.
I plan to keep going for as long as I have questions that I think will be interesting and entertaining to answer, so keep them coming! While I plan to try to answer as many questions as possible, I make no guarantee or promise that any individual question will get a response (i.e., I reserve the right to pick and choose which one I answer). When the blog is finished for the night, Garrosh will explicitly announce that, so if there hasn’t been a “Good night, everyone!” type of statement, you can assume there’s still more on the way.
So, with all the quasi-legal technicalities out of the way… Get to it! Ask away! Answers to begin once ol’ you-know-who makes his glorious arrival…
* * * * *
HERE WE GO, BITCHES! Brace your mind and hold on to your ass, because it’s time for yours truly, the one-and-only GARROSH HELLSCREAM, to answer ALL THE QUESTIONS YOU WERE AFRAID TO ASK. Except I guess you weren’t. Because you asked them. SO NICE JOB NOT BEING A BUNCH OF FUCKING PANSIES RIGHT OUT THE GATE.
Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here. Keep ’em coming as you think of ’em…
What do you consider your biggest non-combat achievement? –Zugzug
There are non-combat achievements?
I kid, I kid. Well, not really. But whatever, I should still come up with a kinda-real answer.
You probably wouldn’t see this achievement coming, but: First runner-up in the seventh annual Garadar chili cook-off. Which was amended to first place after… well, something unfortunate happened to original-winner Grok’nar. (My best to his widow.) (And I do mean my best.)
See, this might come as a surprise, but your Warchief isn’t half bad as a cook. As a matter of fact, one of the things I had to get used to when I became Warchief was having OTHER people cooking for me. I was never used to having other people serving me. Just felt weird. Still does. Even up in Northrend, I usually chipped in on odd chores around Warsong Hold if I didn’t have more urgent things to do — as much as I was tough on the troops up on there, I think it was kinda good for morale for them to see I didn’t think I was too good to get my hands dirty with the stuff I was asking them to do. Anyway, every so often I would sneak into the kitchen and help them whip up a few things, even then. I actually found it pretty relaxing. Well, except for Saurfang and his damn picky menu. No pork my ass.
Warchief Garrosh Hellscream,
After invading my kingdom in the most brutal manner possible, killing my son, forcing my general and lifelong friend Crowley to surrender by holding his daughter hostage and carving a bloody swath through my people’s ranks, it recently came to my attention that Sylvanas Windrunner, leader of the Forsaken who count themselves among your number, has been using full-strength Blight – which you yourself banned – and kidnapped one Koltira Deathweaver away to the Undercity for torture and brainwashing, according to my informants (who shall remain nameless). In short, she has revealed herself to be an enemy of the Alliance and a liability to the Horde, of wich you are warchief.
So my question is: What are you going to DO about her?!
With all due respect,
–Genn Graymane, King of Gilneas
Does anyone smell wet dog in here, or is it just me?
Oh, wait, it’s Genn. He must have picked up that stink from hanging around Varian all day.
Anyway. Let’s take this a little at a time:
After invading my kingdom in the most brutal manner possible,
Sounds like a good start.
killing my son,
That’ll teach him to keep his guard up.
forcing my general and lifelong friend Crowley to surrender by holding his daughter hostage
Can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.
and carving a bloody swath through my people’s ranks,
Not seeing a problem so far.
it recently came to my attention that Sylvanas Windrunner, leader of the Forsaken who count themselves among your number,
Your grasp of current events as of like eight years ago is impeccable.
has been using full-strength Blight – which you yourself banned –
The WHAT you say?
and kidnapped one Koltira Deathweaver away to the Undercity for torture and brainwashing,
Holy fucking shit, is THAT where that motherfucker went?!
according to my informants (who shall remain nameless).
I… okay, hang on. Here’s where you’re starting to chase your tail. So to speak. Okay, so you’re telling me, SOME PEOPLE, who YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHO THEY ARE OR HOW THEY KNOW THIS SHIT, BUT OH BOY BELIEVE ME, THEY SURE KNOW WHAT THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT, these people tell you blah blah blah Sylvanas? And so…you’re asking me, what, if I’m going to lay the smackdown on her or something? And, say, go attack the Forsaken or some shit, who by COMPLETE COINCIDENCE happen to be the same people who KICKED YOUR ASS, only now I’m going to go after them because OH NO YOU DON’T LIKE SYLVANAS?
Well, get in line, chief. Nobody likes Sylvanas. Other the people who are already dead, but that’s their damage. And for real, I’m not going to break off one chunk of the Horde and go stage, what? a civil war or some shit against ANOTHER major part of the Horde, just because I think their leader’s kind of a jerk.
Come on, who’s going to be a big enough asshat to play THAT card?
Do you have a sure fire cure for head aches? –Toka
The only one I’ve found that works pretty consistently is that once Dontrag and Utvoch get going with their damn yammering, and going on and on about whatever the fuck they’re saying, and the headache starts kicking in, you watch them pretty close — I know it might hurt your eyes a little at first, but hang in there, you’ve gotta push through that part — and then when you see them position themselves good and close, you reach over and smack their heads together good and hard. I can’t stress this enough: you can’t be shy about really putting a good CRACK into cracking them together. Then, worst case scenario, they’ll usually shut up for a little while, or better yet at least one of them will lose consciousness for at least an hour or two. Plus when they come to, seems like they end up suffering some really killer headaches themselves, which, you know, poetic justice. SMACKED DOWN BY IRONY, BITCHES.
Of course, if your particular headaches aren’t D&U related, I don’t know what to tell you. <shrug>
Rook, what planet do you live on? We have an entire fucking FACTION of the Horde that keeps ghosts around as fucking bankers and shit. Every been to Stratholme? Scholomance? Like fifteen other places I can think of right off the top of my head? Dude, I had the ghost of my MOM following me around for a few weeks a couple years ago! Where have YOU been?
So you know what? Let me see your “do you believe in ghosts?” question and raise you this one:
Do you believe in goblins?
What do you do to relax? –LazyPeon
Well, let’s see. Writing the ol’ EPIC VERSE can be a good way to unwind, unless I write myself into one of those corners where there’s something I want to say but I can’t come up with something that rhymes with “orange,” because who the fuck had the bright idea to invent a word that like NOTHING rhymes with. And when I have a little down time between meetings and missions of conquest and, you know, tax audits and shit, back when I was starting as Warchief, I used to sneak in a few games of cribbage with Eitrigg. Only that old guy was way too good at that game, so he usually won, and that wasn’t exactly so great for my mood. Lately I’ve been trying to teach Malkorok how to play, but I mean, he’s good at his job and all but overall he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, and so I end up having to repeat myself a lot, and re-explain things, and that pisses me off a lot, too. Pretty much the only thing I can think of that I found consistently relaxing, actually, was doing some barbecuing, or whipping up a big pot of something, but like I was saying a few questions ago, since becoming Warchief I haven’t had that much of a chance to do much cooking myself. So there goes that one.
Um. So I guess the point is that apparently I have a pretty fucking stressful life. Thanks for reminding me, peon. Fuck.
What are you going to do when Shay wants to date? What if it is the Black Prince? Or Prince Anduin? –Zugzug
I…
…
DON’T EVEN JOKE ABOUT THAT SHIT
ESPECIALLY THE LAST PART OF THAT SHIT
WHICH IS SHITTY SHIT EVEN BY SHIT STANDARDS HOLY SHIT
…
The fuck is WRONG with you people coming up with this stuff?!
So…excuse me a minute. I think I need to go sharpen Gorehowl.
[OOC aside, because I love to tease: There is an upcoming comic, already written and partially sketched out, involving Shayari bringing a prospective boyfriend to meet Garrosh. Yes, really.]
Out of sheer curiosity, any other pastry loves *besides* lemon squares? —Aranya Ver’sarn
Lime squares. A pale imitation, but they’ll do in a pinch.
I have also been known on occasion to pick up one of those giant chocolate chip cookies and spend the afternoon strolling around Orgrimmar munching while I’m doing my business. One of my prouder moments, actually, was one time when I was doing that, and D and/or U, whoever the fuck because who even cares enough to remember, started bugging me about that shit, and I actually managed to knock him out by smacking him over the head WITH the giant cookie.
So, you know, that’s…wait for it…the way the cookie crumbles. (THAT’S RIGHT, GARROSH GOT JOKES)
Has anyone turned down your lemon squares, and did they survive it? How successful were they among the draenai ladies? —@SintraEdrien
You know, I don’t usually get in the habit of running around OFFERING the lemon squares. People are much more likely to come rolling up on me ASKING for them, especially since word about them leaked onto the internet, and from that point, hoo boy, every motherfucker with an Azeroth Online account figured they could just hit me up for a sample, because when you make the internet easy enough for any fuckhead to use, every fuckhead will.
Where was I?
But…no. I can’t think of anyone who ever turned down the lemon squares. Even with as much fail as I have surrounding me in a usual day at the office, even THOSE failures don’t fail enough to fail to notice the lemony awesomeness of Greatmother’s recipe. I would guess if they did they would pretty definitely find a way to screw up their chances with the draenei girls. I, on the other hand, rarely have problems when I offer some sweets to the ladies, draenei or otherwise, seeing as, y’know, #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh.
Hang on. Is Shay reading this? Where’s that delete key again? SPAZZLE!
How much do you weigh? –Jordyn
7’2″, 340 lbs. of pure muscle.
And bone.
And sinew.
And…internal…body part…um… organs and… kidney stones…erm… YOU GET THE POINT.
As a leader, what are the toughest decisions you have to make? Lok’tar Ogar —@DonnerB123
The toughest ones, no surprise, are the biggest ones. Which pretty much come down to decisions of life and death. Like…literally, who to kill and who not to kill. Really brief cases in point: there was that time a was back (and some of you people might not even have been reading here when this was going on, which raises the question WHY THE FUCK NOT), when me and Mokvar and a few others were trapped in this alternate timeline where Dranosh Saurfang was still alive…only pretty much the only way for us to save the Horde was for me to pretty much kill him. On the other hand… every day, here in Orgrimmar, I’m surrounded by the Dontrags and Utvochs and Lor’themars and whoever the fuck elses, one annoying fucker after another griping about nuisance after nuisance…and I have to decide NOT to kill them. Because reasons. I guess.
We live in an imperfect world, DonnerB123. An ugly, imperfect world.
So . . . I simply can’t seem to get the hang of this: Is it Dontvoch and Utrag, or Dontut and Vochtrag? My head hurts . . . —@SintraEdrien
Nobody knows, Sintra. Nobody fucking knows.
Would you ever want to return to Nagrand? —@Malkorok_
Oh, hey, Malk. Taking a break from reading that Cribbage for Fucking Idiots guide I gave you, huh?
Anyway… Would I want to return to Nagrand, like to visit? Sure. I’ve been back a couple times to see Greatmother. Not for a while now, granted, but still. So yeah, it would be nice to see the old place again, one of these days, when things calm down.
Return for good, though? Doubt it. Nagrand’s always going to be home, mind you, but my life is in Azeroth now. The past is the past, and all that, and you can’t go back. Well, you can, but, you know…well, don’t remind me. FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.
Oh, hey, check out the timing there. I was just talking about you, Greatmother.
And…yeah. Okay, Greatmother, look. We’re all adults here, so I’m going to be real with you. You know the old saying, right? Why buy the cow, when you literally have dozens of hot women of every description lining up around Grommash Hold for a chance to take turns at…
Hang on.
Is Shayari reading this or not? Can somebody go check on this for me? Seriously.
Warchief, watch out for elven ships around durotar… Your habit of antagonizing the idiot in charge of Silvermoon could have repercussions, now that they’re stockpiling Mogu weaponry. Possibly Forsaken ships too, you KNOW those two are in bed. Figuratively. Though maybe this is the elves ending that? What do you think about this? –Ritaba
Okay… I’m not sure if this is actually a question, but… Let me put it this way, Ritaba. Ask me again how worried I am about Regent-Lord Hair-Care rising up like an avenging demon (*chortle*) and rallying his wrathful people (*guffaw*) to unleash a blood wave of vengeance on me.
Yeah. Like zero…
Dear Warchief- could you pleeeease appoint us a leader? Ever since the last Sunstrider went wacko on us, we’ve been lost… —@SintraEDrien
…aaaaaand here’s case in point as to why.
What is your favorite place in all of Azeroth? –Orgrimmar Travel Agency
You know what? You probably wouldn’t guess this, but Mulgore. I really like Mulgore. Reminds me of Nagrand a lot — rolling plains, open skies, all that kind of thing.
Honorable mention for weekends and vacations: What happens at Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace, stays at Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace.
Least favorite: Ashenvale. I hate Ashenvale. For multiples reasons, most of which revolve the same fel-forsaken part of it.
Warchief, I must know, Much is known of the Kor’kron’s activities in Pandaria, and the Blackrock clan’s work in Orgrimmar and abroad. But what of your Warsong clan? They have been inactive since the Cataclysm, as far as anyone can tell. Do you have any big plans for them coming up? –Grottee Metalbeard, goblin shaman
Now see, I can understand how this could have caused some confusion. Because yeah, the Warsong clan came with me up to Northrend, and they represented a big chunk of our forces when I was in command up there. And then in the time right after the Cataclysm, they were pretty active in Ashenvale (which is not, I might have mentioned, on my list of Favorite Places Ever). And so, yeah, since then, I can see how it might look to you like they’ve gone fairly inactive, but that’s just because the clan hasn’t been operating as much as a singular force. See, before I became Warchief, I was chieftain of the clan, so they represented the main bulk of the forces under my command. Now, though, I have ALL the orcish clans under my jurisdiction, so there isn’t as much need for me to be lining up jobs for the Warsong specifically. They’ve been keeping busy, just not in a way that makes you go “the Warsong orcs are doing THIS over THERE.” Some of them were part of Nazgrim’s detachment heading down to Pandaria, a lot of them have been recruited into the ranks of the Kor’kron along with more than a few Blackrocks, others have been assigned to some other operations I have going on around Orgrimmar. So they’re just getting around more. Spread the love! And by “love,” I mean, of course, “bloody fist of retribution.”
If Varian begged for mercy would you? a: mock him, b: cut off his head, c: take over SW, d: all of the above —@SintraEDrien
Sorry, I can’t get past the first five words without cackling maniacally so hard I fall out of my chair.
You know, my VERY earliest memories aren’t really specific memories of particular events, just the sort of odds and ends that most people remember. My childhood in Nagrand, obviously — I can remember back, vaguely, to when I was around five or so. My mom was still alive then, so I remember her, and I remember us fighting through the red pox as best we could…which, let me tell you, SUCKED. There was the pet clefthoof I had back then, y’know, before meat supplies started getting thin that one winter, and there was me getting to be friends with Dranosh. We hung out a lot back then, fishing and hunting and stuff — me and Dranosh and Jorin Deadeye, actually, back before Jorin turned out to be a dick. Um… probably my earliest memories of specific events all revolved around my mom — the day when Greatmother told me she’d died, for one. And one, a little while before that, back when the pox was still going on. I’d woken up from this nightmare, and she and I stayed up a while talking about it, and it’s nothing really momentous or even important, but it was just one of those little things that stick with you, you know? Anyway…that’s it for early memories. Not fun, I know. But like…if something’d going to stick in your head from THAT young, it’s almost always going to be something bad, right?
By any chance would you be willing to add any pandaren cultural festivals to be acknowledged? Brewfest does not count. —@ShenWeiPureblossom
Funny coincidence — you should totally go talk to Ji about this. I’ve heard he was talking to some of the other pandas about carrying over some custom you guys had on your wandering turtle island whatever-the-fuck is was, some kind of outdoor festival with noodles or something? Check in with Lunchbox about this, he could probably use a hand setting it up. Hell, I might even try to whip something up myself for it, if it happens. Like I’ve been saying, it’s been too long since I got in the kitchen.
[More OOC teasing: This is indeed on the way. In the not-too-distant future, the Pandaren Noodle Festival comes to Orgrimmar, in a comic/transcript featuring… well… almost the entire damn supporting cast.]
Hail Warchief Hellscream! It has been some time since I have found the time to reply to your writings as things have been quite busy up in Hearthglen lately. Especially with the arrival of his gracious young Highness, Prince Anduin, while he convalesces at Mardenholde for a time. Something about a bell, if I recall. Anyway, onto the question before I tarry on too long.
I had heard from a rather reliable source who would prefer anonymity that some months ago, you suffered from an invasion in Orgrimmar. Was this true, and what occurred? —Tirion Fordring
Oh geez…here we go. Well, at least T-Ford managed to keep it under 5000 words.
So…yeah. I don’t know if I would call it an INVASION, but… a little while back, yeah, there was…an incident. This goes back a few months… May, I think? Anyway, I’m hanging around in Grommash Hold, right? Just minding my own business, plotting world domination, same ol’ same ol’. A regular day at the office. When all of a sudden, out of like NOWHERE, these gnomes start running into the place. And at first, I’m like, DAMMIT MALKOROK, how about some security up in this piece, but then I see the sheer NUMBER of them — there’s hundreds of these motherfuckers. Maybe even THOUSANDS of them. Which, if you know how I feel about gnomes, was just filling me with a level of glee that could have wiped out all life in the universe.
Thing of it is, this wasn’t some actual invasion or ATTACK from the fuckers down in Gnomergan, or…wherever they fuck they’re living these days. The part of Gnome-ville that’s not fucking glowing from radiation and shit. Anyhow, THESE gnomes are all like…the noobiest, weakest, saddest little excuses for underpowered gnomes you’ve ever seen — and seriously, do you KNOW how fucking SAD someone has to be for me to be forced to coin the phrase “underpowered gnomes”?
And so in they come, in sheer numbers too big for the guards to stop them all on the way in — though, believe me, if you saw the trail of bodies you’d know they fucking TRIED — and they come flooding like rats into Grommash Hold, only if they were rats I might actually worry about it more because FLEAS. And here’s the punchline — when they finally got close to me, you know what they’re big finishing move was? They all kept trying to hug and kiss me. Like my foot or some shit. Until I popped a bladestorm, and, you know, eight trillion dead gnomes.
Which is a beautiful way to line up four words, I gotta say.
Do you like to dance? –Jordyn
Draw your own conclusions.
Do you think that maybe Mokvar and Deliana were ever married in a previous life? They seem so . . . together. —@SintraEDrien
DUDE, I don’t know WHAT the fuck to think about those two. Would it SURPRISE me? No. I am WAY past the point where fucking ANYTHING could surprise me around here. So much weird shit has gone on around here the last few years, I consider NOTHING off the menu. Mokvar and that human chick married? Sure, maybe. Half-draenei daughter from years back turns up at the front door? Why the fuck not? Ji Deep-Dish floats around in a fucking balloon and gets his pudgy ass stuck in a honey tree? Sounds normal to me. For real, man, at this point fucking Draz’Zilb the ogre could show up riding Onyxia, who’s been reanimated for like the forty-seventh time as far as anybody can count, with Anduin on a leash dressed like in a bear suit, and when Draz belches Anduin’s been conditioned to tell a knock-knock joke, and my reaction would be “Yeah, sure, why didn’t I see it coming?” WELCOME TO AZEROTH, WHERE THE BOTTOMLESS CUP OF WHAT THE FUCK FLOWS FREELY IN ALL DIRECTIONS.
Warchief, I really loved your poem about your pet clefthoof, it really brought a tear to my eye. Could you please share another sample of your EPIC VERSE from your childhood back in Garadar? –Khizzara
Hmm… okay, let me dig out the old journal and see if I can find something for you. Now, keep in mind, my poems back in those days weren’t nearly as polished, but let’s see…
Okay.
There was a little orc Who ate a little pork Over in the breakfast nook And when he was bad He wished that he was good Cause Greatmom’s got a mean right hook
EPIC VERSE!
Wait… that’s… yeah, that one maybe doesn’t come off looking so good.
Um… I’ll see what else I can find.
When will you ever figure out that the constant stream of adventurers coming to annoy you about gold were sent from me? —@M_Grimtotem
OH FUCK YOU, MAGATHA
So for anyone who missed this, a ways back, Madame Upright Hamburger here stirred up some shit on Twitter, where she went on about having hidden a stash of gold somewhere in my damn throne room, and offering it as a giveaway to anyone who could find it. Which set off a borderline-noob-gnome-like influx of random motherfuckers running into Grommash Hold and trying to turn the damn place upside down looking for the loot. So finally, FINALLY, after Malkorok and his people rounded up and fucking executed like I don’t even know how many of these people, my throne room stopped being the hot spot for random asshats to go hang out. You know, aside from the random asshats who hang out there professionally. And before anybody starts getting all excited, let me reiterate: THERE IS NO TREASURE HIDDEN IN MY THRONE ROOM, OKAY? Seriously. The last thing I want to have happen a little ways down the road is like another ten or fifteen or twenty-five random people to come running through into my command room expecting to collect loot.
What’s the latest between you and Zaela? —@MyGarona
Look, there’s nothing going on with me and Zaela, okay?
…
…
…that you need to concern yourself with.
<waggle>
What’s the deal with people thinking Mokvar and I are a couple? No matter how many times I try, I can’t convince ANYONE! —Deliana Hawthorne
Because, see, Lor’themar can say he’s a dude, and he can call himself a dude, and he can stroll around all day in dude’s clothes and using all the right pronouns and shit, and he can talk himself red in the face trying to tell everybody he’s a dude, but at the end of the day, people with eyes and still look at him and see that he’s Lor’themar.
Also, who the hell let HER in here? MALK! How about some security, dammit?!
What’s your favorite tipple? Beer? Wine? Liquor? If any, what variety do you enjoy in particular? —@SintraEDrien
Holy shit, Sintra, you’ve sure got a lot of questions.
I’m pretty simple as far as my drinking tastes go. Beer and grog, a some rum on occasion. They have some pretty good varieties out of Stranglethorn, so I’ll pick up a bottle or two when I have the chance. Maybe a little cherry grog on occasion, but that’s about as fancy as I get with it. Although, you want to know who’s MAJORLY into the weird fruity drinks, like those ones that come with the little umbrellas every single time like there’s a fucking law prohibiting their sale without them, like drinking the drink has a chance of proccing rain and the damn umbrella has to be included as a fucking safety measure? Malkorok. No joke. Dude can’t suck down enough of that shit.
Your guess is as good as mine.
Why don’t you like us? We just want to help. —@Dontrag_Utvoch
…
Do you want me to get into the list chronologically, alphabetically, or in order of importance?
You know what? It’s not even worth it. It’s like…fuck, it’s like trying to explain to the damn wolf pup why you’re yelling at it two hours after it peed on the carpet. What’s even the fucking point?
Although…you know what’s funny? Check it: Damned if I can remember which of these fuckers is which, but I know, rank-wise, Dontrag is a sergeant, and Utvoch is a scout. Now it’s kinda-sorta funny that after like nine years in the Horde military, Utvoch still hasn’t managed to get promoted above the absolute lowest possible rank there is. Like, the day you show up, they make you a scout, and here he is a decade later and he’s STILL only managed to keep himself half a rung up from peon.
So that’s good for a chuckle. But you want to know the disturbing part? Back when I first met General Nazgrim, in Northrend, dude was rank sergeant. So that means that until I took over and started doing promotions and reassignments, fucking DONTRAG AND NAZGRIM WERE THE SAME DAMN RANK.
On the other hand, I suppose we don’t know for sure that Dontrag COULDN’T steer a ship in a straight line without crashing it, so…
Anyhow. Okay, one more, so let’s see what we’ve got to wrap up.
That’s it for questions for tonight. Thanks to all of my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS for contributing, and to all of my enemies who came by, FUCK YOU ALL BUT THANKS FOR THE PAGEVIEWS, NOW HIT RFRESH A FEW MORE TIMES THEN CROAK.
I’m out, people. More soon.
* * * * *
*VERY soon, in fact — as an added perk for those of you who’ve stayed this late into the going, well…count to ten, click back to the main page, and rejoin the ongoing tale of Mokvar, Garrosh, and more!
Meanwhile, for those of you coming late to the party, don’t worry, you haven’t missed your chance to pose your questions to the Warchief — there’s always his monthly mailbag! Next edition coming March 2! Feel free to e-mail, or use the handy-dandy form below:
[Periodically, 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!]
Name: Rue’kara (“Ruekie”)
Occupation: Horde military trainee
Race: Orc
Class: Shaman (elemental)
Age: 15
Group affiliations: Horde (citizen), Dead Peons Society (a.k.a. “DPS,” member)
Ruekie and her sister, Tuekie, were among the group of “high aptitude” trainees whom Garrosh took under his direct supervision in “Being a role model is a full-time job” and who embraced the group nickname of “Dead Peons Society,” or DPS, in the eponymous post. When Garrosh left Orgrimmar to join the Horde’s forces in Pandaria, he brought most of the trainees with him, including Ruekie. (For one reason or another, a handful of the trainees stayed behind in Durotar, including Ruekie’s sister, rogue trainee Tuekie.)
Ruekie’s first named appearance in “Underground farmer’s market,” in which Garrosh found an Earth Online dollar-farming operation in Pandaria. Ruekie had the relatively merciful idea of stopping the operation by pointing out to the young dollar farmers that Horde trainees were paid an allowance considerably greater than their modest pay, and, well, that was the end of that.
In “Departures,” Ruekie joined the rest of the DPS in Pandaria on what was meant to be a routine operation at the Temple of the Red Crane. That was before A Little Patience happened, though, and Alliance forces routed the Horde troops at the temple. Ruekie and the rest of the DPS fled to a nearby system of caves, here Garrosh would eventually find them.
The trainees’ underground episode in Krasarang provided a few major Ruekie moments: Before Garrosh arrived, the DPS had encountered saurok in the cave, and during the ensuing battle, fellow trainee Lok’osh was killed; after Garrosh found the surviving trainees, an agonized Ruekie confided in the Warchief about her unsuccessful attempt to heal Lok’osh…leading to a rare “Garrosh has a soul” moment (“Don’t blame the healer”). Later, during the group’s escape from the saurok caves, Ruekie’s command of the elements played a key role in bailing the Warchief out of a precarious position (“Exit strategy”).
Ruekie, as a shaman, has always been a devoted admirer of Thrall. (As opposed to her more hawkish sister, Tuekie, who is an avid Garrosh fan. Perhaps a bit too much. Like, Garona-esque too much.) In light of her relatively positive interactions with Garrosh during the Krasarang adventure, it’s anyone’s guess who she would side with now. You know, in the unlikely event that those two should come into conflict somehow.
Ruekie maintains a Twitter presence at @RuekieShaman. Her Twitter voice is provided by long-time reader and commenter Rakael, whose in-game character Ruekie is the basis for her in-blog namesake. Many thanks to Rakael for generously allowing me to steal her orc alt baby for my own nefarious purposes here, and for her ongoing contributions to Ruekie’s character (many of which appear in this very profile).
In her own words:
Describe your relationship with your mother or your father. Was it good? Bad? Were you spoiled rotten, ignored? Do you still get along now, or no?
My parents…well, I can’t say we had a bad relationship, I guess, but they were pretty much just there and not much else. After the orcs moved to Kalimdor, my family didn’t settle in Durotar. Instead, they moved to Camp Taurajo in the Barrens, which is where they raised Tuekie and me. They never really taught us about orcish ways or customs. Most of the time they were too busy dipping into the felweed brownies or whatever. So Tuekie and I ended up spending most of our time with the tauren. Tuekie was more outgoing, more of an explorer, connected with other orcs more easily when they passed through the camp. I kept to myself a lot more. Living with the tauren is what got me started studying the elements.
How vain are you? Do you find yourself attractive?
I…um, me? Do I…well, not really, I guess. I’m just me. Um… <blush>
What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?
Tigule and Foror’s Temple of Caramel-bor! Brown (I know, not super exciting, but it’s soothing and reminds me of the earth). Lakota’mani Girls (it’s a fun tauren festival song…people don’t seem to realize, but those tauren know how to throw a party!). Marsh lilies.
Who do you trust?
I completely trust my teammates. They’re really the first orcs I’ve hung around with on any kind of regular basis where I feel at home. I’ll always admire Thrall as a shaman and for everything he did after the Cataclysm. I didn’t really know what to expect from Garrosh when we started training with him, but he’s really done a lot to try to help us and take care of us. Even me, when I really needed it.
Can you define a turning point in your life? Multiples are acceptable.
I was too young to remember the internment – Tuekie and I were barely born when the orcs fled to Kalimdor – so that change in our lives didn’t really register. The thing that really shook up everything was when Camp Taurajo was destroyed. Afterward, we moved to Durotar and settled in well enough, but the memory of fleeing across the Barrens – not knowing where we were going, looking around wondering if Alliance were about to come for us, still smelling the smoke from the village – will stick with me for as long as I live. Camp T was the closest thing to a home I ever knew. Spirits keep you, Omusa.
Is there an animal you equate to yourself?
A wolf! Spirit puppy FTW! Awooo!
What does your bed look like when you wake up? Are the covers off on one side of the bed, are they all curled around a pillow, sprawled everywhere? In what position do you sleep?
The covers are usually off to the side even before I go to sleep. I get too hot with them most of the time. I sleep in kind of a weird position…it’s sort of hard to describe, actually. Maybe it would be better for you to see it for yourself? … Why are you looking at me like that? I just said… <eyes go wide> Oh jeepers! I, um, no, I didn’t mean— that is— I’m not— Next question, please! <blush>
How do you react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?
I usually react by going “Oh dang!” because I just got tongue-tied and messed up the incantation for one of my fire or frost spells.
Are there any blood relatives that you are particularly close with, besides the immediate ones? Cousins, uncles, grandfathers, aunts, etc. Are there any others that you practically consider a blood relative?
I’m pretty close with my cousins, Sumi and Tumi. They’re twins, too, by the way. I guess it runs in the family. Their mom – Shayis Steelfury – and my mom are sisters. They all work down in the Valley of Honor. Pretty much the only time I would come to Orgrimmar when I was little was when we would visit that side of the family. My mom mostly tried to keep in touch with her relatives. Father was pretty meh about it, though.
What does you desk/workspace look like? Are you neat or messy?
It’s not really messy, but I feel like I’m always losing things just the same. Like I’ll finish with something, and just put it down wherever I am, instead of things having a place where I’ll know to find them.
Are you superstitious?
Well, I mean, I talk to ancestral and elemental spirits, so I guess I’m kind of superstitious professionally.
What might your ideal romantic partner be?
Oh, I, um… Well, that would… You know what? I…yeah, I don’t really talk about that with…who are you, anyway? So that’s, um, that’s between me and my diary. Which I keep hidden! So don’t, like…you know… <blush>
What’s your favorite comfort food, favorite vice, favorite outfit, favorite hot drink, favorite time of year, and favorite holiday?
I love herbed mushroom salad. (They grow some really great mushrooms in Feralas.) Um, people have favorite vices? Why? Wouldn’t they rather be nice? Anyway. Um, my favorite outfit is probably my training uniform – it makes me feel like I’m on my way to being a real shaman! There’s this Pandaren drink called kafa that I really like, even if it makes me kinda hyper. Holiday…probably a toss-up between Hallow’s End and Winter Veil! Candy and presents!
On the last night before the patch, trainees Giska, Korrina, Ruekie, and Kulkesh pay a final visit to their mentor. (Presumably, Gurtash was stuck taking the picture.)
The Warchief's Command Board 