Archive for sargeras

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 17, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream

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So before I head out to check on the Temple of the Red Crane, I figured I’d make a quick mailbag check and dip into the latest batch of letters.

 

Dear Warchief,

Hello sir.  I’m one of Overlord Runthak’s trainees and I’ve been reading your blog for a long time.  I’ve noticed that between Garona and Warlord Zaela, and even mailbag writers like Wega, you really seem to have a following among the ladies.  My question is, how do you do it?  I haven’t had much luck with the girls in my training group, and I bet it would help a lot if I knew your secret.

Thank you,

–Dol’akar

Hoo boy.  This one again.  See, Dol’akar, I wish it was that simple, but seriously, this is kind of like going up to Mylune and saying, “Teach me to be batshit crazy like you.”

Thing is, something like 85% of my game comes down to the fact that I look like a canister of distilled sexy, kick ass on two planets, and – let’s face it – lay the pipe like an army of plumbers in the Wetlands.  And all that’s just natural.  Now, since you’re a trainee, I’d like to tell you that part of your problem is that you’re still just a teenager, and adolescent awkwardness and blah blah blah, and things will get better as you get older, but honestly?  I was doing just fine for myself when I was a teenager in Nagrand (I tell you, those draenei girls were crazy back in the day), so, you know…again, natural.

Still, if you think it’ll help you at all, I can let you in on the other 30% of my game.  To start with, you want to buckle down in your combat training.  This should help you in a number of ways.  First off, it’ll keep you in good shape, which at least gives you an outside chance of offsetting a little sliver of the disadvantage of having no shot at being as dead sexy as me.  Second, it’ll put you in a better position to beat the living crap out of any competition you might run into from among the other trainees.  This will show the girls that you’re sensitive to their needs.  Those needs being, of course, that they need to stop wasting their time on those other assholes and focus on you, and hey, what the fuck do you even think YOU’RE doing here, chump?  But yeah, girls seem to like that sensitivity crap – don’t ask me why – so that should win you some points.  And third, the better you do in battle, the faster you’ll be able to advance through the ranks.

Which brings us right to our next point: power is sexy.  Let me tell you, after Nazgrim made the jump from Sergeant all the way up to Legionnaire and then General, he had women all over him.  You know, until he crashed two ships and killed them all.  But that’s a whole other thing.  (This reminds me of another suggestion: Work on your piloting skills.  Because why tempt fate?)  Anyway, point being, moving up in the world can only help your chances.  Just keep in mind that you’re looking at a hard cap of High Overlord, seeing as the only thing above that is Warchief, and we all know I’m not going anywhere for a long time.

Hope this helps.

 

Hey hey, Garry!  Wazzup, my man?

I just built myself a chopper and it’s hella rad. Damn, but I look kickass ridin’ that hog! Got the ladies all over me.  But then I thought I need some wicked cool tats to seal the deal, ya know what I mean?  So I was flippin’ through some mags for ideas and whoa!  Double page spread of Mr. Warchief-crush-your-head himself!  And I’m like, “Dayum, that’s some fine art right there.”  High five, buddy.

So… where’d you get your ink done?  I need a parlor that can capture my style, yo.

–Fizzpop “The Fizz” Clutchgear

Sup, Fizz.  First of all, before we go any further – I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again:

NotGarryOkay, now that that’s out of the way.

Glad to see that somebody appreciates the tattoos.  Oh, wait, lots of somebodies already do, of the female persuasion (see previous letter).  But still, thanks anyway.

I had most of my tattoos done in that little window of relatively-not-fucked-up time just after becoming Warchief and just before the Cataclysm.  They’re ceremonial markings from the Warsong clan, done by a Mag’har tattoo artist from Nagrand.  I actually had him recommended to me by blademaster Burzum.  He was always really helpful.  You know, before he went all snarly-sha-crazy.  But I digress.

I could put you in touch with the guy if you want to look him up.  If you ever find yourself in Garadar, look for Vanteg.  I hear he’s been in pretty high demand since word got out that he’d done the Warchief’s ink, so you might have to get on a waiting list.  Feel free to drop my name, though.  He might skip you ahead in line.  Either that, or he’ll figure you’re another one of the people who show up and lie about knowing me, in which case, you know, sucks for you.  Them’s the breaks.

 

Hail, Warchief!

Well, of course the Star-Tribune is biased. (Besides, I’m pretty sure that if you trace it through far enough, the Regent-Lord owns it.) That’s not the point. The official line has always been that the Regent-Lord is doing a fine, bang-up job. And, at least out loud and in public, everyone with an ounce of sense agrees. He’s not above having his guys straight-up mind-control people talking out of turn in public. For real-talk, you have to go to the shadowy dives off of Murder Row … and what’s new is that it’s getting harder to find dissent even there. It may be begrudged respect, but growing respect, nonetheless. People want to believe that the old Lor’themar is coming back, the man who used to be the Ranger-General’s second-in-command, the one who used to be … well, not completely useless. And perception can take on a reality all its own.

Then again, this may just mean that the magisters have started slumming, and everyone’s getting a helping of re-programming. It’d still have the same effect, and I’m not qualified to tell the difference.

–A Concerned Citizen

Hey, ACC.  Good to hear from you as always.

So hang on, let me make sure I have this straight.  You’re saying that Ponytail controls the media and information outlets in Silvermoon, is forcibly silencing dissent, and is subtly manipulating the population of his capital city into a hero-worshipping, glory-seeking, cult-of-personality bunch of jingoistic wahoos?

Hoo boy.  That’s not good news for anybody any way you cut it.

 

Warchief Garrosh Hellscream,

Sir,

I was out picking herbs today to mill for me inscription training.  It’s Father’s Day and I was picking Gromsblood, which got me to wondering … How do ye feel about having an herb that only grows in places tainted by fel magics be named after yer dad? And if it bothers ye, have ye ever thought of having it changed?

Sincerely,

–Kriann, Jr. Member, Explorers’ League

Hey, good to hear from you, Kriann.  On the other hand, kind of sounds like you might be a dwarf, in which case, fuck you, Kriann.  Anyway, thanks for writing.

So about the gromsblood.  I see where you’re going with the fel-tainted thing, but that’s never really bothered me.  For one thing, I usually just look at it as a name given to honor the awesomeness of my dad.  It’s actually pretty fitting, in a way.  Wherever there’s land infested with fel magic, wherever there are demons lurking about, there’s a little reminder of Grom, ready to give them the ol’ Mannoroth special.  I usually don’t read much more into it than that.

Also, the fact of the matter is, it’s not at all uncommon to have an herb named after a prominent figure.  There are tons of them.  You probably know about Khadgar’s whisker, for instance, and then there was Arthas’ tears until that stupid ballot initiative passed and renamed them to sorrowmoss, because spirits forbid we should offend the spirit of Arthas and make him cry even more.  But there are actually lots of other, more obscure ones that a lot of people haven’t heard about.  For instance:

Creeping Sylvanas – Sometimes called the Syl-vine-us, although that’s actually inaccurate since it’s not technically a vine.  This is a strange type of plant that’s created by herbicides.  You spray your garden and kill the weeds…and then a few days later, those hey-weren’t-those-dead weeds grow back in the form of creeping Sylvanas.  And start killing loads of other plants and turning THEM into creeping Sylvanas.  And then after a while they seem to settle down and mostly get along with most of the regular vegetables in your garden, only you can’t quite shake the sinking feeling that maybe they’re up to something that you can’t put your finger on.

Broxigar Thornbush – The only plant ever known to harm Sargeras.  Which is a weird distinction to keep track of, but I guess academics need something to do.  Anyway, when Sargeras first arrived on Azeroth, he started ranting on and on about “dark titan” this and “destruction is nigh” that – you know, like you do when you’re a cartoonish bad guy – and then in the middle of this, he pricked himself on one of these thornbushes, and started howling pathetically about “Ouch my finger owies ow OWW!”  Which kind of took the edge off the whole “fiery apocalypse” thing.  Kind of gives you an idea of why the dude lost, though.

Lor’themar Pansy – Contrary to what you’re probably thinking, this isn’t a reference to the actual guy, but to a plant.  As a general rule, if you see some frilly-looking flowers around somewhere, and you kind of recognize them, but you’re not sure what they’re called, so you’re all, “You know, those flowers.  From the place.  The red ones”?  Those are probably Lor’themar pansies.

Cairne Blossom – This plant used to grow all over the place in Mulgore until Magatha tricked me into pruning it all.  Oops.

Fordragon Lily – These tall, striking bulb plants were named for Bolvar Fordragon, since they used to grow all around his old outpost in the Dragonblight.  For some reason, right at the end of the Northrend campaign, they all withered and mutated into a strain of lichbloom.  I’ve never been able to figure that one out.  I tried asking Tirion about it once, and he just got all quiet.  Which is noteworthy because it was the only time in history that the words “Tirion” and “quiet” have ever appeared together in a sentence that didn’t also include the words “needs to be.”

Thrallvine – This stuff grows on the side of your house and pretty much just sits there being innocuous and not doing anything, other than making random passers-by yammer on about how awesome it is.  Then out of the blue it goes on a crazy growth spurt so everywhere you look, there it is, until you’re just goddamn sick of looking at it all the time.  I bet you could replace that shit with a way better plant that would make your house stronger and be nicer on the eyes to boot, but you’ll probably just wind up with a bunch of assholes bitching about it.  Also your landlord seems to have an inexplicable, unhealthy attachment to the stuff so you know they’d never let you get rid of it.

 

That’s it for this time around.  As always, keep those letters coming, and I’ll try to brighten your empty lives with my inspiring answers again soon.

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 12, 2011 by Garrosh Hellscream

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Oh man, yesterday’s post with my latest EPIC VERSE really set off a shitstorm in today’s mailbag.  Apparently there are some really pissed-off humans out there who had to get in their two coppers’ worth.  So, here goes…

 

To Garrosh Hellscream:

I don’t know why I keep checking on this “blog” of yours to see if there’s anything worth reading, or any signs of something redeemable about you or your kind.  Without fail, my investigations are greeted by some despicable piece of drivel like you latest work of “poetry.”  This time, though, you’ve gone over the line.

It’s bad enough to mock such noble citizens as Lady Proudmoore, whom I would think you’d show at least a modicum of respect if only out of deference to her (admittedly misguided) friendship with your countryman Thrall.  And I’m not even going to dignify your snide insinuation about my son by discussing that point.

But to take advantage of the recent fall of our lost brother Benedictus, and to accuse him of some…misbehavior…which was responsible for some sort of perceived behavioral tendencies in my adult life…and that all of this somehow led to…performance issues on my part… And, hold on, Tiffin was a saint, okay?  Don’t you even bring her into this!  A saint!  By the Light, I miss her, at least SHE understood, and…and finally someone made me feel safe enough to…ANYWAY THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT.  The point is, you’ve gone way over the line this time, Hellscream, and the day is coming soon when you’ll be made to pay.

–King Varian Wrynn, Stormwind

Fuck you, Varian.

That pretty much covers it, right?

Also: the prosecution rests, your honor.

(Also also: I love the part there about “I don’t know why I keep reading this blog” – it’s like this trend I keep seeing online whenever somebody starts hating on something: “OMG I hated that book!  Hated it!  And I read it SIX TIMES, and every time I hated it more!”  Like…dude…just don’t read it, okay?)

 

With warmest regards, to Garrosh Hellscream, formerly Overlord of the Warsong Offensive, now Acting Warchief of the Horde:

It is with a heavy heart that I take up my quill to pen this note to you, good sir.  It had long been my hope that human and orc alike might set down their petty differences and join hands in fellowship in pursuit of a higher calling.  While we fought valiantly beside one another against the tyranny of the Lich King in our time together in Northrend, and stood shoulder to shoulder in the face of unspoken horrors as the minions of the wicked Scourge rose up to oppose us; while we laid to rest, I had once hoped to think, our superficial animosities during our time overseeing the preparation of our assault on Icecrown when we gathered together on the hallowed grounds of the Argent Tournament; despite all of these and many other considerations, through all of which I developed a healthy respect for you as a soldier and rising leader of your people, Warchief Hellscream, it now saddens me to see the depths to which you are willing to sink for the sake of petty, destructive childishness.

Who but our foes could profit from such actions?  We defenders of Azeroth are weaker as a whole for such things.  While we turn upon each other, the minions of death surely must sit back and smile in satisfaction as we undertake to do some of their work for them.  It is a comfort, at least, that we left Northrend victorious, the Lich King having fallen, for surely were there still a Lich King he would delight in such strife between our people.  And yet, while we may take some small comfort in the knowledge that the wretched undead Scourge shall no longer profit from our conflict, we must forge on in the knowledge that other foes still stand before us.  The Burning Legion, the Twilight’s Hammer, the Old Gods themselves still remain, and surely it can only work to their advantage for us to dwell on such petty, trivial matters as those that you have chosen to glorify and pursue in your recent misguided writings.

Think on my words, young Warchief, for in them you will find, I will hope, a wisdom that may yet guide your stewardship of the Horde to higher and more noble grounds, and allow us all to rise above these petty conflicts to forge a brighter, stronger future for our people.  May the Blessings of the Light go with you, and light the shadows that yet haunt your baser thoughts.

Now if you’ll pardon me, I need to locate some mead and matches.

–Highlord Tirion Fordring, New Hearthglen

TL;DR, Tirion.

You lost me at the “orcs and humans joining hands” and singing Kumbaya and shit part.  For real, dude?

Like seriously, part of me really wants to see what would happen if I locked this guy in a room with Dontrag and Utvoch.  Only problem I could see is that either they would literally use up ALL the words and there would be none left for the rest of us to use anymore, or they would reach some kind of verbal critical mass and create a black hole of words that would threaten to suck the surrounding room and eventually the whole planet into it.

Oh, and speaking of sucking anything that’s nearby…

 

Warchief Hellscream,

You are a sick, sick individual.  I can’t begin to imagine how you can even think to write these things.  I can only hope that one day you’ll manage to wake up from your adolescent haze and blossom into the maturity of the average twelve-year-old.  Until then, I suppose I can only have pity on your pathetic, disgusting soul.

–Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Theramore

Gotta say, the “Lady” part of your name there really amuses me.  Along those lines, from now on I think I’d like to be addressed as “Vegetarian Garrosh Hellscream.”

Anyway, don’t get mad at me just because your girlfriend’s mouth gets going after a few drinks.  Maybe you should have worked a little harder to keep it otherwise occupied.  OH NO HE DIDN’T!

Oh, and SPEAKING of whom…

 

To Garrosh Hellscream:

I’m speechless.  Utterly speechless.  You swore up and down that anything we talked about would be between you, me, and the wall – little did I suspect that apparently you meant your FACEBOOK wall!  What kind of a person do you have to be to swear confidentiality to someone, then run around blabbing it?

It really is sad that you feel so at ease with using alcohol to take advantage of someone in a vulnerable, easily influenced state.  I would pray for you if I didn’t have such a headache.

–Argent Confessor Paletress

On the first point: I ❤ irony.

On the second point: You know, when I saw the line about taking advantage of someone while they’re drunk, I was going to make a Jaina joke, but that wouldn’t be fair.  Everybody knows you don’t have to get Jaina drunk.  And I mean EVERYBODY, amirite?

 

Dear mortal,

Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you.  I can’t begin to tell you how entertaining it is to watch you ants scamper back and forth, swiping unsuspecting at each other over nothing, and generally wearing each other down so that, when the time comes, your metaphorical anthill can be brought to nothing with 0.0003% resistance rather than 0.0005% resistance.  Not only are you assuring me that my eventual, inevitable triumph will play out that much more smoothly, but you’re providing me with endless amusement in the process.

Please keep it up, all of you.  You’re doing Titans’ work, as the saying goes.  At least until I get around to undoing same.

–Sargeras, Twisting Nether

The hell?

(Literally?)

Also, since when do they get internet in the Twisting Nether?  He’s able to frigging e-mail me from the TWISTING NETHER, and meanwhile if I get too close to an air elemental, my why-fly cuts out on me?  I’ve got to get Spazzle on this.

Anyway, at least somebody is enjoying the blog.

Monday mailbag

Posted in EPIC VERSE, Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 12, 2011 by Garrosh Hellscream

So first of all, thanks to the people who showed their support over my trip to Grom’s monument in Demon Fall Canyon.  Also Spazzle was helpful getting the pictures up on the blog, because for some reason he wasted all kinds of timing learning how to do dorky stuff like that while he was tinkering around with all the weird gadgets those goblins keep piling up in the Valley of Spirits.

As one last tribute to the whole experience, I decided to write something up to commemorate my father’s sacrifice and Thrall’s first trip to Nagrand, when he showed me what had really gone down with Mannoroth.

 

There once was an orc from Nagrand
Who by chance, luckily, was on hand
For the Warchief’s arrival,
With glamors archival,
Fuck you, Varian.
To reveal Grom’s last glorious stand.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

On to this week’s mail.

 

Greetings, Warchief!

I was just wondering if I’ve unintentionally done something to cause offense among the other Horde leaders.  I’ve noticed that I don’t seem to be receiving summons to any of the summit meetings you hold with the other faction leaders, and for that matter, other than Sylvanas, none of the others have returned any of my messages.

–Lor’themar Theron, Silvermoon City

Wait, who are you again?  Lor’themar?  Isn’t that the dude Orgrim Doomhammer killed at Blackrock Mountain like forever ago?  You’re still alive WTF?  Oh wait a minute – Silvermoon, you must be that blood elf leader.  Didn’t we kill you after you went all crazy and tried to summon Kil’jaeden and shit?  OH HANG ON, you blood elves have a HISTORY of not staying dead, don’t you?  Oh fuck, here we go again, we’ve got another blood elf zombie running around.  Just what we need.  Someone get Saurfang in on this shit before this one goes all Keleseth on us.

 

Hey mon,

You know how much I can be sellin’ dese for?  [Warglaive of Azzinoth] [Warglaive of Azzinoth]

–Bob, Echo Isles

Oh geez, here we go again.  WELCOME TO FIVE YEARS AGO, idiot.  You can’t sell those, moron, because IF you ever got them in the first place, they would have magically bound to you when you took them off Illidan’s corpse, LIKE YOU WERE ONE OF THE ONES WHO KILLED ILLIDAN in the first place!  And who cares about those anyway, seeing as we’ve got bigger and better things to be thinking of at this point, because it’s not FIVE YEARS AGO!  AND BEFORE YOU E-MAIL ME AGAIN, no, you also can’t sell [Thunderfury, Blessed Blade of the Windseeker].

 

Um, dude, seriously?  The poetry blogging thing is totally my deal.  Find your own gimmick, will you?

–Sargeras, Twisting Nether

WHY DON’T YOU COME MAKE ME!  You heard me!  I’m right here, you want to make something of it, come get me!

Yeah, I bet we won’t be hearing from him again.  Not for, like, a few years anyway.

 

Finally, this message arrived in the form of a comment on Spazzle’s post from a few days ago, but I thought it merited a response here:

Dear Warchief,

I am an 8 year old forsaken mage and I have a question for you. Is there honor left in the horde?  My friends (also forsaken) all say that there is no honour, only plague, valkrys and undeath.  Sylvanus says to believe what you see and she saw only darkness when the bad man godfrey killed her. Please tell me the truth, is there honour in the horde? (even for forsaken?)

–Pluton, undead mage

Honor, Pluton.  No matter how dire the battle, never forsake it.

Varok Saurfang taught me that when we served together in Northrend.  His words have never left my thoughts, and I think they’re especially fitting here.  Your people may call themselves the Forsaken, but it’s not really so.  You are not forsaken.  Honor does not forsake us.  We forsake it…and as long as we don’t, it won’t either.

I’ll be honest with you.  I’ve always had my doubts about the undead, and about Sylvanas in particular.  I worry that she has her own agenda.  I wonder how loyal she truly is to the Horde.  Ever since the siege of the Undercity, I’ve had nagging doubts about just how much of Putress’s plan was really going on without her knowing.  There’s a reason why I’m keeping a Kor’kron detachment there.  (And no, Bragor, I’m still not giving you a three-day pass.  Seriously.  You can stop with the damn e-mails.)

But I’ll tell you this, too: If you’re finding yourself worrying about whether there’s honor left for you as a Forsaken, then you already have your answer.

Men without honor do not agonize over losing it.

Sylvanas was right about one thing.  You do have to trust what you see.  I see a Horde made up of races – every one of them – who have endured unspeakable losses, suffered horrifying pain…and carry on, bending but not breaking, holding up their heads the best they can.  I see Thrall and Cairne – every day as if they were still in front of my eyes – fighting through burning ruins to save the children of blood elves they’ll never know.

Yes, we Horde have had our share of dishonorable names.  But for every Gul’dan, we have an Eitrigg.  For every Magatha Grimtotem, there’s a Cairne.  And then there’s my father, Grommash…the worst of us, and the greatest of us.  He was the first to drink Mannoroth’s demon blood and doom the orcs to slavery…and the one to buy back our freedom with his own life.  A reminder for all of us that honor never really leaves us.  It only lays dormant until we reclaim what was always ours.

Even for Sylvanas.  Somewhere inside that…unscrupulous shell, there’s a elven ranger general who stood alone between the Scourge and the fall of her people, and cut down legions of undead before laying down her life.  A spirit so strong that not even the Lich King could break it, so strong that she willed her violated people to the closest semblance of freedom left for them.  If that freedom is a pale imitation of living, then it’s also the last, best gift Windrunner had to give, however paltry it may have been.  If what Sylvanas has become has cost her her soul – if darkness really is all the awaits her – then that should only magnify her sacrifice…because everything she’s become is the price she willingly paid for her people.

I hope someday she can find some piece of what made her one of the greatest of her kind.  I’m just not holding my breath.

 

UGH…that was hard.  HEAD HURTS.  Remind me not to do that again.  And dammit, did I actually just talk myself into respecting Sylvanas?  Crap.

Anyway, I still have to talk about the rest of the Ashenvale stops, plus I’ve got to start getting ready for some more of these inspections.  Dammit, I don’t know why I even bother unpacking.  More soon.