Archive for theramore

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 30, 2013 by Garrosh Hellscream

mailbag29

Okay, people, it’s been WAY too long since I’ve dipped into the ol’ mailbag, and I have a HUGE backlog of letters, so let’s get right to it, shall we?

 

Hail Warchief!

The Feast of Winter Veil is approaching, and it made me think. What do you hope to get from Greatfather Winter this year? Do you have any special family traditions? I look forward to seeing Orgrimmar all decorated for the festivities.
Happy Holidays!

–Lorewalker Shara

PS you may want to avoid using tinsel to decorate around Mortimer, unless you like festive poop! Might be a good idea to keep Taktani away from it too, thinking about it.

Hey, Shara, thanks for writing.  Hopefully Orgrimmar is looking all Winter Veily these days.  I’ll be back for a check-in soon, but I’m probably only going to make it back to town JUST in time to catch the end of the festivities.  As for my wish list… I remember addressing this point a couple years ago, and most of the stuff on that list still stands – especially Varian and Magatha’s heads on pikes – but there are a few more things I can think of that I might add to the list for this year.

  • An actual explanation that makes sense for what the hell was going on with Mokvar while I was away.
  • A wireless network here in Pandaria that’s actually reliable, so I can log onto Earth Online without it being a fucking comedy show.
  • An on-site goblin tech guy who can maintain that network without the whole thing going kablooey and spitting out two burnt pieces of toast every time there’s a breeze, because let me tell you, Grizzle Gearslip ain’t happening.

Come to think of it, so far all of these could pretty much be covered if I could get a bunch more Spazzles.  Because really, as much as I clown on the guy, he actually knows what he’s doing and gets shit done, and unlike half these other jokers, I don’t have to worry about him running around behind my back doing spirits-know-what.  So, other additions to the list:

  • A scribe that doesn’t have traitorous tendencies, a busted-up writing hand, or the disposition of a six-year-old on a sugar high from eating all the Hallow’s End candy EVER.
  • The secret to controlling the sha.
  • A First War commemorative chess set.  This is the normal-sized, less creepy version of the chess set Medivh had over in Karazhan.  It’s been rumored to be in the works for years, and I’ve finally started to see them showing up on ebAH.  Yes, I play chess.  Don’t act all surprised, for fuck’s sake.
  • Varian’s head on a pike.  Did I mention this one?

As far as having family traditions for Winter Veil…not really.  I mean, keep in mind, Winter Veil is a pretty recent thing for us Mag’har.  We didn’t have Winter Veil back in Nagrand, so we only started picking it up at all after Thrall came out to Garadar a few years ago.  Greatmother Geyah really has taken a liking to it, but that’s about it.  Plus, not to get maudlin and shit, but it’s kind of hard to have family traditions when you don’t really have a family.  I mean, I never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was young.  I’m an only child.  As far as I know.  Assuming Grom wasn’t a bigger pimp than anybody’s given him credit for.  Anyhow, point being, Greatmother is pretty much the only family I’ve got nowadays, and even SHE’s not a blood relation – she’s just the one that raised me after Lakkara died.  So, yeah.  AREN’T YOU HAPPY YOU BROUGHT THAT UP?  BET YOU FEEL PROUD.

 

Greetings Warchief!

I am in desperate need of your assistance. I approached Regent Lord Lor’themar with my issue but he said that it was beyond his scope and directed me to contact you.

I recently inherited a house and it is in terrible need of redecoration. You have done a great deal of renovation recently and I was wondering if you could give me some tips to make my house look amazing. Attached is a picture of the house.

WoWScrnShot_112313_213143

Thanks,

–Tegwin

Grats on the new house, Tegwin.  Not so grats on the place looking like such a shithole.  Because, yeah, that place needs some work.  I mean, seriously…the wispy, billowy day-glow curtains?  A bearskin rug with the bear head still attached?  Strewn out there like you’re getting ready to do a photo shoot you already know you’re going to regret in five years?  And… Is…is that a hookah?  Just sitting there, right out in the open, in the living room?  What are you, one semester removed from college and stuck with a slacker troll roommate who keeps swearing he’ll have his half of the rent this month, and this time he means it, mon, only you know perfectly well that’s not happening because felweed’s a hell of a drug?

So, okay, a few things.  You have to lose the pastels, first of all.  I know that probably goes against every last one of your blood elf sensibilities, but trust me on this.  You want strong, commanding colors – the kind that will make people think “Holy fuck, some serious shit goes on in this place” when they walk in.  Lots of reds and grays.  Err on the side of darker.  Go too dark with the red and you get a bloody crimson, which is still pretty badass.  Go too light and you get pink.  See where I’m going with this?

Mount some weapons on the walls.  If you haven’t cleaned them lately and they’ve got some bloodstains, all the better.  It adds to the color scheme I’m talking about, plus it conveys a message of “This person is not to be fucked with.”  Spikes.  You can never have too many spikes.  Or skulls.  Get some skulls in there.  If you can carve up the body of one of your enemies and, say, make their skull into a chair for yourself, awesome.  Or maybe turn their bones into an end table.  A hat rack will do in a pinch.  If you haven’t killed any notable enemies lately, but you’ve got an infamous foe that you really only know by reputation but somebody in your family killed, and you have THEIR remains somewhere handy, that’s just as good, because that fucker was brought down by your bloodline (AGAIN NOTICE THE BLOOD MOTIF) and you totally deserve to share credit for the accomplishment.

This is all for your living room, of course, and I know my tastes can be a little hardcore.  I figured you might want to take it down a notch or two for your bedroom, so I went to Garona to get a woman’s opinion.  Didn’t get very far, though.  I told her I had a question about the bedroom and tried to ask her if she matches her rugs and curtains, or words to that effect, but she just got all pissy for some reason.  So, not much help there.  I seriously don’t know what’s up with her sometimes.

Speaking of which…

 

Dear Warchief,

I’m writing this letter to you in secret and I hope it gets to you and I’m not killed in the process.  *looks around*

It’s about Garona Halforcen.  Sir, she scares the everliving shi—uh—crap out of me.  *looks around again*

I happened upon some history stuff about her and now I’m all confused.  She was there when the first invasion from the Dark Portal, then she had a kid with an old man, and she is half-orc, half-dradne dranin demon *looks up spelling* DRAENAI.  (She looks like an orc.  Smells like one too.  I don’t see it.)

Now I’m all confused and sitting in a dark tunnel with a lot of thinking time had me thinking about her again.

What I want to know…*looks around*

How old is she?  She’s got to be like….ANCIENT.  *hides paper, looks around*

She doesn’t make sense and I don’t want to ask her.  She’s scary.

–Ruekie, Shaman In Training

PS:  There’s a lot of talk lately with the orc kids about the Red Pox, and if there is something scarier than Garona it’s that. I heard you had it once. Did it hurt? Can you get it again? Can we get it? Can an outbreak happen again? Too many questions and we are getting freaked out. Like FREAKED out. Really.

Okay, first of all… Um, Ruekie, you realize we were JUST in those caves all alone and out of earshot of Garona, right?  Not sure why you didn’t just ask your questions THEN, but whatever.  Kids.

First, the Red Pox?  No, seriously, you don’t want to get into the Red Pox, that was just a bad scene all around.  I don’t know why you kids would be talking about it now, but really, just let that shit die.  Nobody needs to be digging up THOSE memories for anybody.

Okay, now that that’s settled, on to your main point.  Yeah, I’ll grant you the scary thing with Garona.  Scariest bitch I know who hasn’t come back from the dead.  Although it’s probably a sad statement about my life that the list of people I know who HAVE come back from dead is a lot longer than you would figure.  Because – I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before – NOBODY STAYS FUCKING DEAD ANYMORE.

Anyway, here’s the deal with Garona.  Yeah, she’s half orc, half draenei.  Back in the day, Gul’dan bred an orc and a draenei to create a personal assassin – enter Garona.  Yeah, she looks mostly orcish, but I guess these racial mixes are kind of a crap shoot as far as which race’s physical traits you get.

Anyhow, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure exactly when Gul’dan actually orchestrated her birth.  I know it was definitely before the Dark Portal opened, and that was about 30 years ago, but before that, there was a window of about 20 years when Gul’dan was up to some Really Bad Shit, so the breeding experiment could have happened anywhere in there.  Let’s shave off the first couple years to give Gul’dan time to come up with this idea and for Garona to be brought to term.  That would mean that Garona would have to be anywhere from, say, 32 (She’s not.  Seriously.  I’m 35.  There’s no damn way she’s younger than me.) to around 48 or so.  Anywhere in between, your guess is as good as mine.

Hang on, though – this gets more complicated when you add the fact that Gul’dan had Garona aged magically so that she could get right to work, no childhood needed.  Swell guy, huh?  Anyway, the age of adulthood among orcs varies a little from clan to clan, usually somewhere from 13 to 15.  (Yeah, I know, kid, can you believe it?  Technically you’re an adult.  Hard to imagine you’re a grown-up, huh?  Well, let me clue you in on a little secret: That thought won’t stop seeming weird for another 20 years.)  So that would mean, however old Garona is according to the calendar, she really has the body of a woman 13-some-odd years older.  So now we’re looking at a physical age putting her somewhere between 45 and, like, 60-something.  Which is kind of a big deal when you consider that 70 is about as old as you could reasonably hope to live as an orc, even if you do a perfect job taking care of yourself.

Oh, but hang on, we’re not done yet.  It’s about to get more complicated.  (Don’t look at me – I didn’t make this shit up.)  Because, see, since Garona has that draenei half, her aging is even more fucked up.  Draenei live for…like…forever.  I mean seriously, I think the average draenei lifespan is something like “infinity minus twelve.”  So you mix THOSE genes in with our good, wholesome “70 if you’re super lucky” orcish genes, and…well… You’ve got a woman who’s technically, like, 40, only with the body of a 53-year-old, only not really because 53 doesn’t mean anywhere near the same thing to the draenei part of her, so…um… Who the fuck knows?

She’s old, okay?  Only she’s kind of not.  Only she is.  Whatever – you go figure it out.  Meanwhile I’m going to go check around the room and make sure there aren’t any whooshing sounds coming from the corners.

 

The following is written in elegant, but slightly shaky, cursive script on pale peach-colored parchment paper

My dear little Roshy,

How are you doing? I have missed you. It’s beautiful here in Nagrand – we’re having the most glorious late-fall weather.  I hope all is well in Orgrimmar.

Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?  Sounds serious too… She has been sending me letters telling me about how deeply in love you both are, and has included many pictures of you with little hearts and flowers drawn on them.  She says you’re getting married in the spring?  Why didn’t you mention it?  You would think you’d keep your own family informed, dear.  We’ll have to have a little chat the next time you visit.  You are coming home for Winter Veil, are you not?

Also, you should take some pictures of the two of you together.  And perhaps find a new photo studio.  These look like they were printed on magazine paper instead of proper photo paper.  I can’t properly frame them for display, especially not with the lipstick kisses smeared all over them.

All my love,

–Greatmother Geyah.

Hold on, hold on, what… how the… it… GODDAMMIT, SOMEBODY IS FALSIFYING RECORDS OF THEIR WARCHIEF, and…and…  Oh fucking hell, now I’m going to have to go out there and explain Photoshop to her.  It was bad enough when I had the bright idea to try to show her the internet.  Nothing in my e-mail for two months but forwarded pictures of wyverns asking for cheeseburgers.  And WHO is this woman who’s…ugh.  You know what?  I don’t even think I want to know.  Even though I can probably think of a couple likely suspects.

Now I’m just imagining somewhere in Orgrimmar there’s a dim, candle-lit room with walls covered by pictures of me, and…no, no, don’t even go any further with that, Garrosh.  That way madless lies.

And now on top of everything, I have to squeeze in a trip to Nagrand before Winter Veil totally runs out on me, or I’m never going to hear the end of it.  Ugh.  Maybe I’ll bring Gurtash, and see if I can maybe distract her a little with the cute kid factor.  Or Ruekie?  I bet she’d like Ruekie.  Plus Rook might want someplace to hide anyway, what with her probably having Garona out for her head as soon as this post goes live.

 

Very good to hear you have escaped the Saurok caves unharmed. The Horde would be in a very dire position if we were to lose our leader.

I do have one question. Have you ever thought of asking a mage if they could manage to conjure lemon squares? I have no complaints, but the same old sticky buns are a bit tiring after some time (not to mention they turn stale and hard as a rock after some time sitting in a bag). Perhaps you should collaborate with my wife? I am sure she would be very good to collaborate with, or maybe another mage closer to your location.

Regards,

–Shen-Wei Pureblossom

Thanks for writing, Shen-Wei.  You know, I HAVE thought of this lemon squares angle before, but here’s the thing.  First off, there was a point around this time last year that I really thought Gija down in the Cleft of Shadow was on to something, but the problem is, lemon squares don’t really lend themselves to conjuring, apparently.  I mean, you can abracadabra up some pastries that are sorta, KINDA in the same ballpark as lemon squares, but you can tell they’re not the real thing.  It’s like the drop-off from real leather to that fake shit that the damn DEHTA hippies try to pass off and think they’re fooling anybody.  And once you’re used to eating the real thing, I mean, come on.  It would be like going from having me as Warchief to, I don’t even know, a fucking TROLL or something.

Second of all, having spent my whole life eating those lemon squares, let me tell you, we don’t need mages recreating Greatmother’s recipe, because IT’S ALREADY MAGICAL.  (See?  See how I’m already working on smoothing things over with her?  For real, I’m so fucking diplomatic you could just shit a brick.)

Also, even setting all that aside… Nothing personal, but I don’t take anybody up on any suggestions that include the phrase “perhaps you should collaborate with my wife” ever since the Incident That Shall Not Be Discussed over at Tharl Stonebleeder’s house.  Now stop making me think about things that cannot be unthought.  MOVING ON.

 

Hail Warchief.

Rumors are flying that there is a red pox outbreak. Is this anything like the scourge?

–Kelytas, Blood Elf Paladin, Borean Tundra

Wait, again with the Red Pox?  No!  We’re not going to talk about the Red Pox.  Why the fuck is everybody so curious about the Red Pox all of a sudden?

 

I really enjoyed that Photo-Op you had with King Varian a while ago.  I couldn’t help but notice that King Varian had a wonderful tousled-Anime-pigtail thing going on that was at the same time sexy but tough, and you…well, you just look cranky.

I checked in with the Couturier Barbershop in downtown Orgrimmar and was quite frankly shocked at the dismal array of hairstyles available.  An up-swept Mohawk with a scarf?  Are you kidding me?

I know you might have a couple of things on your plate right now but seriously, you really need to look into this before the entire Horde start looking like extras from Naxxramas.

Maybe you could contact King Varian, find out who does his hair and we could have a Stylist Exchange with one of our Barbers so they could learn some new hair techniques and bring back the Glory of the Horde.

I also noticed that our Tailors are in desperate need of new patterns.  Malevolent-style silk pantaloons?  Really?  That is so last-season…

–A Concerned Fashionista Blood Elf

Lor’themar, is that you?

Yeah, let me get right on that.  I’ll send a special diplomatic courier right over to Stormwind with a note that says, “Who does your hair??”  Yeah, that would go over great, I’m sure.

Hmm.  Actually, come to think of it, a message like that would probably seem SO weird to Varian that it might fuck with his head a little.  Like, I can totally imagine him reading that and thinking, “Garrosh wouldn’t give a shit about my hair…WHAT IS HE UP TO?”  And then he gets all paranoid and shit.  And meanwhile I’m just sitting back and not doing anything, and the longer this goes on the more paranoid he gets – ESPECIALLY when it’s time for him to go to the barber, because, hey, THIS IS WHAT GARROSH WAS ASKING ABOUT.  And maybe he gets so messed up and suspicious that he stops going to the barber altogether, and his hair grows and grows, and finally he’s just got this total mess of a rat’s nest on his head, until maybe he eventually can’t stand it anymore and shaves it all off and ends up bald.  Same as me.

There you have it, ACFBE.  Problem solved.  Garrosh comes out ahead of the curve yet again.  Boom.

 

Hail, Warchief!

I’m studying Orcish History at school and need to write an essay. I thought I’d write about the Red Pox and it’s impact, and I thought it would be neat if I could quote you on the subject, if you don’t mind.

I know it was a terrible illness, but there aren’t any first-hand records that I’ve been able to find. What was it like to live with the Red Pox? Do you remember much from those years? Did you notice any major differences between Orcish society as a whole and the way Orcs lived in Garadar? Pretty much anything you can remember would be great.

Thanks!

–Anonymous Scholar, Orgrimmar

Okay, so at least NOW I have some idea of why everybody’s got the Red Pox on the brain this week.  So okay, fine, just this once I’ll talk about it, seeing as I’m probably one of the only Red Pox survivors a lot of these kids will have the chance to meet.

It sucked.

What, you wanted more?  FINE.

I’m not going to waste time going over the symptoms, because there must already be records of that, and I’m pretty sure neither one of us wants to spend our lunch break reviewing my childhood vomiting habits.  But yeah, I had it as a kid, and even setting aside the physical suffering of it all, I can’t stress enough how much of an effect it had on the culture of Garadar.  I mean, you asked if there were any major differences between Garadar society and orcish society as a whole?  Fuck, what WASN’T different?  The Red Pox hung over our whole culture.  It touched everything.  We had whole generations who were born and died – prematurely, granted – under the bane of that thing.  That was the worst part of it, really – the sense of resignation it left us with.  It was like, for a lot of us, there was this sense that the Red Pox came for our grandparents, and then it came for our parents, and now it’s going to come for us.

Over the years, our shaman kept working to find a cure, and every so often there would be a glimmer of hope that maybe they had something.  But then there would always be some disaster that would undo it.  After a while that became part of the gloom and doom of it – the shaman would come up with a new possibility, and you never quite stopped hoping, but deep down you were thinking, “Okay, let’s see what fucks it up THIS time.”  Even when they finally did find a cure, and the suffering could finally end, a lot of us couldn’t even quite believe it was really happening.

Adding to all this, by the way, was the fact that over in Telaar, the draenei had their own parallel illness going on for a while.  It was called the lank distemper – or the “Lanks,” as a lot of folks ended up calling it.  Basically an infection that caused severe dehydration and loss of appetite, so the afflicted would wither down to these scrawny shadows of their former selves.  Sometimes the two diseases would flare up as if they had a contest going to see which one could kill more victims.  Which made for some miserable times for everybody involved.  Believe me, for anyone who was living through it, you do NOT want to get them started on the whole Lanks / Red Pox rivalry.

Is that enough?  Are you happy yet?  Or do I need to relive the time the conjured healing sphere rolled between Bullrok’s legs and into the lake, too?

 

Dear Garrosh;

Winter Veil is here! Time for a great orc cheer! Lok’tar!

I am so looking forward to making cookies and milk for Greatfather Winter this year with my new cooking skills I learned from Pilgrim’s Bounty holiday. I may even add some lemon squares to add some extra favor. I’m really hoping this year he’ll give me a ferocious armored bloodwing with exotic leather saddle for riding. That would be so cool! (Sigh, I’ll probably end up with another copper racer though.)

What are you hoping for Winter Veil this year, Mr. Garrosh sir?

Varian on a spire tree?

Blood and thunder!

–Ruekie, Shaman-Still-in-Training

PS: Greatfather Winter looks awful familiar, but I can’t quite figure it out. Kinda like Mr. Saurfang, but that would be impossible…I think. (Nothing is impossible with Mr. Saurfang.)

PPS: Winter Veil holiday is a great time for eating. Try no to eat too many lemon squares, though, sir. It doesn’t take much to make your muscles look like marshmallows.  D: 

Bye!

Wait, Ruekie AGAIN?  When the hell is she writing all these letters?  Fuck, maybe I should hire HER as a scribe, if this is how fast she can crank out pages.  Anyway.

So also, before we get into anything else…hang on, you want a BLOODWING for Winter Veil?  A frigging BAT?  All of a sudden, a WYVERN isn’t good enough for little miss tornado-pants?  You’ve seen Mortimer in action, up close and personal, and you’ve decided, “Nah, let’s give the universe a sporting chance – keep the wings, take away all the parts that really make the wyvern badass, and replace them with a giant blind rat”?  Are you KIDDING me?

I already answered the part about what I want for Winter Veil a few letters up, so no need to get into that again.  And I’m not going to dignify the lemon squares thing with a response.  But I have to comment on that thing you said about Greatfather Winter.  You know, one thing that people always say about Greatfather Winter is that there’s no way the guy could possibly fly all around the world and deliver presents to everyone in just one night.  Well, I think you might have found the one gaping hole in that theory.  So, next time you find yourself in an argument with some skeptic who doesn’t want to believe in Greatfather Winter, just unload this one on them:

“I’m telling you, there isn’t enough time for Greatfather Winter to do all that!  It isn’t physically possible!”

“What if Greatfather Winter is really Saurfang?”

“Oh… Um… Well then.”

 

Yo Mon!

I hear you had de red pox, mon. On dat game Earth Online dey has a disees call chicken pox. Es dat de same? (What do chickens haf to do wit dat?)

Dey say in dat game, once you hav it, you cannot get et again. Yah, mon, you are now invisible to dat disees, like de lich king’s horse.  Dat is good news!

Cheers, mon!

–Bobbette, Out der somewhere

Okay.

So.

I am beginning to get the very distinct impression that I may be getting trolled.

 

Hey mon!

What’s dis I be hearin’ about da Red Pox breakin’ out again?  It be all anybody be talkin’ ’bout dese days!  If you get it, does dat mean ya turns red?  I remember seein’ some red orcs back in Hellfire Peninsula, mon, was dey havin’ da Red Pox?  Dey go from green ta red?  Don’t get me wrong, mon, I don’t want nobody gettin’ sick, but if dere be anudda outbreak, look on da bright side – all dat red an’ green togetha be lookin’ nice an’ festive for Winter Veil!

–Bob, Shado-pan Monastery

I hate you.  I really, truly hate you.

 

Excuse me, Warchief, I write to you from Dustwallow marsh, I came here to see if I could find test subjects for a new flamethrower, and found something much more interesting, there is this mysterious woman on the road to the ruined theramore (hah!) and she seems to be able to send me back in time to look at theramore and the swamp before theramore was destroyed, I went to sleep at mudsprocket and woke up in present day. She seems upset that I was killing humans as soon as I was there, and refuses to send me again.

–Ritaba, Mudsprocket 

Wait, wait, hang on.  Let me get this straight.  You’re telling me that there’s someone hanging around Dustwallow Marsh sending people back in time to Theramore before we blew it up?  As in, making it possible to totally sidestep our whole victory and interact with the place like it was before?  That… fucking hell, THAT DEFEATS THE WHOLE POINT OF US BLOWING IT UP IF YOU CAN FUCKING DO THAT!

You know, this has the Bronze Dragonflight written all over it — or at least it WOULD, if it weren’t for the fact that this is PRECISELY THE SAME KIND OF SHIT they they’ve been recruiting people to PREVENT for years now, and by the way didn’t I just march through like 50 miles of steaming shit over their whole “integrity of the past” deal last year?!  But hey, apparently it’s NO BIG DEAL when you’re talking about Theramore, right?  SURE!  WHY NOT?  Hey, how about I zip on back to the past and start fucking with shit too, because I GUESS THAT’S ON THE MENU NOW, RIGHT?

Fucking dragons.  FUCKING TIME TRAVEL!

UGH!

 

I have been reading the history of Pandaria, and discovered something no one has bothered to take note of, seven burdens of Shaohao, the story of how the last emperor of Pandaria defeated the six sha and locked them away in a poor fashion (He couldn’t have kept them from causing havok any time someone gets cranky?), and there are older writings indicating a beast with seven heads, perhaps there is a seventh sha never recorded, it could be the key to controlling them.

–Yinsun, Vale of Eternal Blossoms

Now see, THIS is an example of some research that might actually be useful.  You might be on to something there, Yinsun.  It DOES seem kind of fishy that we have this story about Shaohao and his seven burdens, and this seven-headed thingamabob, and then we only have six sha that we know about.  It’s definitely worth considering whether we’ve got one more sha on the loose that nobody’s thought of.  (Hell, I was even bouncing ideas about this around with some people on Twitter a little while ago.)

For anybody keeping score at home, we might as well start with the basics.  Right now, we’ve got six sha accounted for: the Sha of Doubt, the Sha of Anger, the Sha of Despair, the Sha of Violence, the Sha of Hatred, and the Sha of Fear.

So, okay, let’s suppose there’s one more out there.  Since the sha we know about all seem to be named for pretty major negative emotions or vices…hmm…let’s see, what do we have left for major negatives?

There could be a Sha of Greed, I suppose.  Although…I mean, we have goblins with us, and I have to figure if there were a Sha of Greed, people like Grizzle Gearslip would be setting the fucker off left and right.  The Sha of Jealousy, maybe?  Makes sense on paper, but again, you’d figure we’d be having outbreaks all over the place, seeing as we’ve got a base full of people who’ve been watching me stroll around day after day.  And you KNOW the peeps get jelly when they feast their eyes to the pure awesome that is yours truly, amirite?

So we’re kind of running out of major vices to pair up with the missing sha.  What else is there?  Free-associate, Garrosh… hmm… the Sha of Gluttony?  The Sha of Sloth?  The Sha of Anteater?

Hang on…I think that line of thought took a wrong turn on me somehow.

Maybe we’re going about this wrong.  Time to think outside the box a little.  For all we know, this last sha could be kind of a niche sha, something more specific and less…well…grandiose.  Which might explain why this one might have been able to fly under the radar all this time.  So, let’s see, what else could be out there as the sneakier, subtler bane of our existence…

  • The Sha of Social Awkwardness
  • The Sha of Small Talk
  • The Sha of Poor Table Manners
  • The Sha of Bad Penmanship
  • The Sha of Bad Spelling
  • The Sha of Typos (possibly related to above)
  • The Sha of Not Picking Up After Your Wyvern
  • The Sha of Repetition
  • The Sha of Redundancy
  • The Sha of Telegraphing Bad Jokes
  • The Sha of Walking Really Slowly in Front of People at the Mall
  • The Sha of Paper Towels with Inexplicably Strong Perforation So You Try to Snap Off One Square and End Up Yanking Out Half the Roll
  • The Sha of Telling the Same Story Over and Over and Over Again Even Though Yes I Already Know How You Met Eitrigg Okay Tirion

Okay, you know what?  This is going nowhere fast.

Wait, wait, hang on a second… I could swear I HAVE seen another sha somewhere.

shaofhappiness

HOLY FUCKING HELL THAT’S IT!  THE SHA OF HAPPINESS!  Come to think of it, I even remember seeing this fucker on Twitter!  Fuckin’ A, I KNEW all those annoyingly happy assholes like Mylune were up to no good!  IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW.

 

Okay, that’s going to do it for this time, but keep those letters coming.  You guys really stepped up to the plate with this batch of letters, so you know what that means — THE BAR HAS BEEN RAISED.  So keep it going, and I’ll try to be back with more wise words soon.  Handy form included:

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 5, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

So now that THAT whole pain in the ass down in Karazhan is over with, it’s time to get to some overdue mail.  Hopefully now that I’m out of the Opera House, nobody will spontaneously burst into song.  Although, true fact: much to my surprise, Utvoch turns out to have a downright enchanting singing voice.  Who knew?

Anyway, let’s have a look at what we’ve got this time around…

 

Hail, Warchief!

Nothing much to say, but … OOOOHHHHHH YEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHH!

Naysayers there may be, but they should know this: Theramore was an intact government center, a base for munitions and supplies, and an important logistical link for Alliance forces in the Barrens. It is now none of these things.

(And bonus points for anyone who can recognize the EO NPC I swiped the quote from!)

–A Concerned Citizen

Hey, ACC.  Glad you had a good time on the Theramore mission.

That said…look, I’m glad that you’re all-in for this war with the Alliance, and believe you me, it’s nice to have frigging SOMEBODY around here who doesn’t go all “pooh-pooh, oh heavens, how could you, Garrosh?” over every single act of war taken against the fuckers with whom, you know, we’re at war.  So that’s all good stuff.

But dude…you’re REALLY enjoying this a little too much.  Dial down the bloodthirsty just a LITTLE, will you?  And seriously, do you really understand how bad it has to be to make ME have to say that?

Also, I totally know where you got that quote from, but I’ll hold off on saying anything so everyone else can have a crack at it in the comments or the next batch of letters.  I’ll give you all a hint, though — the NPC that ACC is riffing on isn’t someone you interact with directly in the game, but he shows up in one of those cut scenes that they use to fill in some of the in-game backstory.  Now have at it, lore nerds — AND NO GOOGLING!

 

This letter arrives with the crumbling remains of what might have once been a piece of cake, and when opened, fills the reader’s lap with loose glitter. It is written in multiple colors of ink, liberally dusted with more glitter. In the margins are sketches, mostly of Ashenvale, though orcs feature prominently near the bottom. The handwriting is shaky and wanders across the page, but is mostly legible.

Deer Mr Warcheif Sir,

It was my berth-day yestirday! I am 20. I had lots of cak. I sent you sum. I hop you like it. After cak, Mr Hi Cheiftin Bane askd me to go to Ashnval. He wasnt mad that I drew on his reports. Evryon else was tho. They all got so mad when they saw. All I did was mak them pretti! Mr Banes reports wer just wirds, lots and lots and lots and lots of wirds, and thats boring. I mad them less boring. But they all got mad. So after they gav me cak they had Mr Bane ask me to go to Ashnval. Its pretti in Ashnval! Its all sparkli and glittri! I hop you like glittr. I sent you sum. And I met Mr U agin! He told me what you sed, Mr Warcheif Sir. He red it from a glowi thing he sed was calld a kumputr. I want a kumputr to. They look lik fun. He was playng what he called Urth Onlin. That looks lik fun to. He sed you play Urth Onlin to, Mr Warcheif Sir. Can I play to?

The letter is signed with an inked pawprint and the name “Taktani” in multicolored inks. 

Hoo boy.

Okay, well, maybe it’s just my imagination, but I think her spelling is at least a little better than last time.

Slightly.

Okay, yeah, maybe not.  HEAD HURTS.

Luckily, I think I’ve got a way to make this a little less painful, courtesy of Spazzle.  See, the little green dude’s been tinkering around with a computer app that converts other languages and dialects into Common, so maybe we can give it a whirl and see what we get.  Here goes…

Taktani said:  It was my berth-day yestirday! I am 20. I had lots of cak. I sent you sum. I hop you like it.
TranslationMaster 2000 says:  Yesterday was my 20th birthday.  I had lots of cake.  I’ve sent you some.  I hope you like it.

Okay, so far so good.  So first of all, happy birthday, I guess, as of like a month ago, based on the date of this letter.

Second of all, yeah, I like cake, but like…this stuff you enclosed in the letter?  That shit ain’t cake.  Maybe it was cake when you sent it, but it sure as hell isn’t cake now.  Now it’s like the Granular Substance Formerly Known as Cake.  Never mind it being edible — at this point it looks more like something that might try to crawl out of Faranell’s lab.  Matter of fact, excuse me for a second while I go kill it before it develops language skills.  Which, in the process, by the way, it might still end up beating out the writer of this particular letter.

But third of all — WTF you had CAKE for your birthday?  You’re a TAUREN, and you had lots of CAKE?!  I went to Thunder Bluff for BAINE’S birthday, and the only snacks they had were jerky and pine nuts and…like…hay…and yet YOU somehow manage to get fucking CAKE?  How the hell does THAT happen?

Taktani said:  After cak, Mr Hi Cheiftin Bane askd me to go to Ashnval. He wasnt mad that I drew on his reports. Evryon else was tho. They all got so mad when they saw. All I did was mak them pretti! Mr Banes reports wer just wirds, lots and lots and lots and lots of wirds, and thats boring. I mad them less boring. But they all got mad.
TranslationMaster 2000 says:  After cake, High Chieftain Baine Bloodhoof sent me to Ashenvale.  He wasn’t mad that I drew on his reports, but everyone else was when they saw what I had done.  All I did was make them pretty!  Baine’s reports were just enormous walls of text (possibly ghost-written by Tirion).  I cut down on the TL;DR factor by making them less boring.  But everyone (other than Baine) got mad.

So I’ve got to say, I am endlessly amused by the thought that Taktani apparently doodled all over Baine’s reports and then Baine’s advisors all started getting pissy over it.  It kind of reminds me of the first couple months I was Warchief — sometimes I would get bored filling out requisition forms and scribble a few little pictures in the margins, and Eitrigg would get all uptight over it when he went to review the forms.  Personally I kind of liked the little cartoon stick-figure of Thrall I came up with, with the word balloon going “BLAH BLAH BLAH I’M SO AWESOME,” but that seemed to make Eitrigg especially cranky.

Also, I think this might explain why Baine’s last few reports have come in kind of late.

Taktani said:  So after they gav me cak they had Mr Bane ask me to go to Ashnval. Its pretti in Ashnval! Its all sparkli and glittri! I hop you like glittr. I sent you sum.
TranslationMaster 2000 says:  After my birthdaycake, Baine’s irate advisors demanded he send me to Ashenvale.  It’s pretty in Ashenvale!  It’s all sparkly and glittery.  I hope you like glitter, which I say without irony because I’ve clearly never met you or formed any accurate sense of your actual personality.  I sent you some, collected directly from the trees of Ashenvale, which ooze glitter in the same way normal trees exude sap.

OMG NOT THE FUCKING GLITTER AGAIN.  If there’s one thing I hate about Ashenvale, other than the demonic influence, and the Alliance strongholds, and the fact that our western operations are being inexplicably stymied by the fucking Thistlefur furbolgs, and the lingering bitterness of my mother appearing to have been killed in Demon Fall Canyon, and the less said about my whole bright idea with the magnataur the better…yeah, other than that stuff, if there’s one thing I hate about Ashenvale?  THE FUCKING GLITTER.

Taktani said:  And I met Mr U agin! He told me what you sed, Mr Warcheif Sir. He red it from a glowi thing he sed was calld a kumputr. I want a kumputr to. They look lik fun.
TranslationMaster2000:  And I met Utvoch again!  He read me your answer to my last letter from his computer.  I want a computer, too.  They look like fun.

Okay, so I guess she must have crossed paths with Dontrag and Utvoch while he was on his way back to Stonetalon after the post-Theramore non-celebration business.  Also you’ll notice from that last sentence just how unnatural it is to see someone talking about just ONE of the Dumbass Duo.  I have to admit I’m more than a little disturbed by this.  I’m not sure if Taktani somehow missed the fact that there was a SECOND imbecile there, or if something even more baffling happened and something actually SEPARATED those two, which as far as I know has only happened once before and it took the insistence of a fucking DRAGON ASPECT to make happen.

And speaking of disturbing details, is anybody else starting to really, really worry that the writer who penned this literary masterpiece of a letter is apparently hanging out with UTVOCH?  And…now wants a computer?  Does anyone else see this potential perfect storm of virtual brain cancer in the making?

So, you know what?  No.  No, you can’t have a computer.  Ever.

Taktani said:  He was playng what he called Urth Onlin. That looks lik fun to. He sed you play Urth Onlin to, Mr Warcheif Sir. Can I play to?
TranslationMaster 2000 says:  Utvoch was playing Earth Online.  That looks fun, too, which is a peculiar thing to say, insofar as most MMO’s barely even look fun to the people actually playing them.  He said you also play Earth Online, Mr. Warchief.  Can I play, too?

No.  No, you can’t.  You cannot play Earth Online too.  A thousand gallons of no.  See the reasons above, then add about 73 additional ones.  For instance, here’s #27: I do not want to get stuck being the one having to explain to her the “Anal [Class Ability]” jokes in trade chat.  (Especially if I feel like I came up with a particularly clever one, because it just plain spoils the fun when you have to explain your own jokes.)

Also, random thought here, but some of these translations are a lot more pointed than I would have expected.  Go figure.

Anyway, Taktani…instead of getting a computer and playing Earth Online — neither of which things you should ever do, like ever in the everest of ever — I’d recommend knocking yourself out up there in Ashenvale on all the busywork very important missions we have up there.  If you run out of things to do over there, maybe swing by Stonetalon.  Wait, hang on, D&U are in Stonetalon, scratch that.  Try Desolace instead.  Desolace or the Southern Barrens.  On paper those areas might be a little dangerous for you, but who are we kidding?  We’re way too conservative sizing up the danger levels of the different territories, and most of the time when we send people to their assignments they just wind up facerolling shit.  Be a little ambitious.  Go nuts.  Which I kinda think you might already have, anyway.

I think that’s about as much as my will to live can take for one day, so let’s wrap it up here and be back in a couple weeks with more reader mail.  As always, keep those e-mails coming to garrosh1337@gmail.com.

The Wizard of Zhan

Posted in Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 28, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

The curtain rises on the admiral’s quarters in Northwatch Hold, where Garrosh is sitting in a chair, slumped over a central table.  Everything appears black-and-white.

After a moment, Garrosh stirs and looks around the room while rubbing his forehead.  Stage lights illuminate the far edges of the stage, alternating sides, showing brief glimpses of Orgrimmar in flames, being overrun by demons.  The sounds of screaming and demonic laughter can be heard, seemingly at a distance.  The lights at the edges of the stage go out.  Garrosh stands, and the background noise stops.

GARROSH:  Malchezaar… They were able to do it because of Malchezaar

 

{UP IN THE NETHER}

GARROSH:

Somewhere up in the nether
In the dark,
There’s a demon “prince,” self-appointed,
Calls himself Malchezaar.

Mortimer wanders in and settles near Garrosh as the song continues.

Somewhere up in the nether
Time did break.
You can kill him while he’s up there
But it just won’t take.

Some day I’ve got to drag him down
Out of that place and go to town
And stop it.
The Legion hid him in the cracks.
Sometimes he’s got my father’s axe;
I hope he drops it.

Somewhere up in the nether
Demons hide.
Prince lurks up in the nether –
It’s long since time he died.

If demons get to be revived
Without a timer,
Why oh why can’t I?

Garrosh walks to a window and looks out.  A stage light illuminates the edge of the stage again, this time revealing the burning ruins of Camp Taurajo.

Garrosh steps back into the room and, slowly at first but with increasing speed and urgency, begins running around the room, knocking over and smashing furniture.  Dizzying music fades in as Garrosh continues; he runs around in circles, destroying everything he can reach.  The stage lights dim until the room itself fades from view and the only thing visible is Garrosh – running in circles, lashing at his invisible surroundings, moving with increasing speed until he starts to blur into a whirlwind of anger.

The lights slowly come up to show that the Northwatch Hold tower has been replaced by the deck of a goblin sky galleon.  The ship is spinning in air, such that the rotation of the ship gradually comes to replace Garrosh’s running; he now stands on the deck as the galleon spins around, tossed in circles by a literal whirlwind.

The lights fade to black while the dizzying music continues – growing louder – then a loud crash is heard.  The stage lights come up again, showing the sky galleon wrecked on the ground amid the ruins of Theramore.  For the first time, the scene is visible in full color.  Garrosh is sprawled out on the ground near the wreckage, unconscious.  Mortimer flies in and approaches.  He prods Garrosh carefully with one paw; Garrosh stirs and starts to get up.

GARROSH:  <rubbing his head with one hand while patting Mortimer with the other>  Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, buddy…

Garrosh turns to the wreckage of the galleon and notices a woman’s legs sticking out from under it.

Huh.  She’s not okay, though, whoever she is.  Was.

Garrosh looks around the ruins, then back to the galleon.  As he turns away, several goblins begin to emerge slowly from behind pieces of the ruins.

Hmm… Mortimer, I don’t think we’re in Northgate anymore…  Looks like Theramore…so…so that would make HER—

SPAZZLE:  <running to the wreckage>  The Witch!  She’s dead!  The Wicked Witch is dead!

More goblins appear and gather closer around the wreckage.

GARROSH:  Hang on, the witch?  You mean like a mage?

SPAZZLE:  Well, it’s kind of a blanket term.

GARROSH:  But is THIS one a mage?

KHIZZARA:  Not anymore!

GARROSH:  Yeah, fine, I get it, she’s dead.  What I’m trying to find out is if she’s—

GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE:  She’s dead!

DYSLIX SILVERGRUB:  Dead!

KRIXIL SLOGSWITCH:  The Witch is dead!

KHIZZARA:  Woot!

GARROSH:  Fine, fuck it, I’ll check it out myself.

Garrosh takes hold of the edge of the wreckage and, grunting, lifts it a few feet.

UGH!  GROSS!

Garrosh releases the galleon and it crashes back onto the body.  One hand is left flopping limply out from under the wreckage; a glowing blue orb falls out of its palm and rolls across the ground.

Definitely Jaina, though.  Gotta say, not exactly a glorious way to go out.  <chuckles>  Oh well.  Live on your back, die on your back, right?

The blue sphere rolls further.  In a puff of smoke, Liadrin appears in the sphere’s path.  She is wearing the paladin Lightsworn robes and has the wings of Avenging Wrath permanently glowing on her back.  She leans down and picks up the orb.

LIADRIN:  Are you the one who’s slain the Wicked Witch of the East and freed the Mudsprockets?

GARROSH:  What, Jaina?  Yeah, that was me, I guess.

GOBLINS:  Hooray!

GARROSH:  So hang on, who are all you people?

LIADRIN:  I am the Good Witch of the North.  And the Mudsprockets live here in the marsh.

RAZBO RUSTGEAR:  Under the tyrannical reign of the Wicked Witch of the East!

KHIZZARA:  Not anymore!

GOBLINS:  Hooray!

GARROSH:  Jaina had a tyrannical reign?

SPAZZLE:  Well, more like some pretty strict local ordinances on fireworks and explosives.

KHIZZARA:  Not anymore!

GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE:  Splodey-ville, here we come!

GOBLINS:  Hooray!

GARROSH:  Okay, whatever.  You’re happy she’s dead, I’m happy she’s dead, it’s all cool.  One less thorn in my side, gotta tell you.

 

{WHAM, BAM, THE BITCH IS DEAD}

GARROSH:

Wham!  Bam!  The bitch is dead!

GOBLINS:

Witch?  Which bitch?

GARROSH:

The Proudmoore bitch!
Wham!  Bam!  The Proudmoore bitch is dead!
I landed on her head,
She wished she woulda stood in bed.
Flat splat, the Proudmoore bitch is dead!

GOBLINS:

She won’t stop the goblins now –
Kapow!  Kapow!  Kapow!
So now, let’s open up and blast,
At last!  Let’s rock some rockets!
Wham bam, she got put down,
A new sheriff is in town!
Don’t you frown, the Wicked Witch is dead!

Drazzit Dripvalve approaches wearing a top hat and comically flamboyant ceremonial attire.

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

As Mayor of dear Mudsprocket,
In the shadow of the Witch’s lair,
I welcome you effusively!

GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE:

But it must be proved conclusively,
To know…

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

To know?

GIZZIX GRIMGURGLE:

That blow…

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

That blow?

GIZZIX GRIMGURGLE:

Has utterly, totally,

KRIXIL SLOGSWITCH:

Not just anecdotally!

RAZBO RUSTGEAR:

Determinately, permanently,

GOBLINS:

Undiminishedly gone and finished her off.

SPAZZLE:

I went ahead and checked her out,
And I can say without a doubt
That she’s not just flatter than most:
She’s totally and truly toast.

DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:

Then today we’ll fire our rockets!
Celebrating free Mudsprockets!
Now spread the word!  Let none neglect!
The Wicked Witch just got shipwrecked!

GOBLINS:

Wham!  Bam!  The Witch is dead!
Which?  Which Witch?  The Wicked Witch!
Wham!  Bam!  The Wicked Witch is dead!
He landed on her head,
She wished she woulda stood in bed.

GARROSH:

Flat splat, the Proudmoore bitch is dead!

GOBLINS:

She won’t stop the goblins now –
Kapow!  Kapow!  Kapow!
So now, let’s open up and blast,
At last!  Let’s rock some rockets!
Wham bam, she got put down,
A new sheriff is in town!
Don’t you frown, the Wicked Witch is dead!

From above, Magatha Grimtotem swoops in, riding her wind serpent Arikara.  Cackling maniacally, she casts chain lightning down at the Mudsprockets, who scatter and try to take cover.

GARROSH:  What the fuck is SHE doing here?

LIADRIN:  It’s the Wicked Witch of the West!

GARROSH:  How many fucking Wicked Witches do you people HAVE around here?

LIADRIN:  Two—

KHIZZARA:  Not anymore!

LIADRIN:  Well, yes, one now.  But this one is even worse than the Wicked Witch of the East ever was.

GARROSH:  Preaching to the choir, lady.

Magatha unleashes another burst of chain lightning; Garrosh and Liadrin dive out of the way.  Mortimer launches into the air, snarling, and swipes at Arikara.

GARROSH:  Yeah!  Go get ’em, Mortimer!

Mortimer’s strike knocks Magatha off of Arikara and sends her crashing to the ground.  Shrieking, Arikara flies out of view.  Magatha gets up and looks at Jaina’s legs poking out from under the wreckage.  Mortimer returns to the ground, landing next to Garrosh.

MAGATHA:  So it’s true!  She’s dead!  <looking around hurriedly>  Where is it, then?  It must be here!

LIADRIN:  <holding up the blue sphere>  Are you looking for this?

MAGATHA:  The Focusing Iris!  Yes!  Once I combine its power with that of the Doomstone—

LIADRIN:  You’ll do nothing of the kind, crone!

MAGATHA:  You think I fear you, elf?  I’ll take it from you if I have to!

Magatha starts to cast another chain lightning, but is interrupted when Garona – sporting the Fangs of the Father wings – unstealths and stunlocks her.

GARONA:  Not so much, Steak Sauce!

GARROSH:  So, who’s this supposed to be now?

LIADRIN:  She’s the Morally Ambiguous Witch of the South-by-Southeast.

GARONA:  Hey.

GARROSH:  You people have some really weird fucking job titles, gotta say.

LIADRIN:  You slayed the Wicked Witch of the East, so it’s only right that the Focusing Iris should go to you as its caretaker…

Liadrin hands the Iris to Garrosh.

What’s important is that it stays out of the hands of the crone at all cost.

GARROSH:  Yeah, don’t worry, I am all about making her life unpleasant…

Arikara swoops by again, startling Garrosh and Liadrin into taking a few steps back; Magatha breaks out of her stun, jumps back, and puts down an earthbind totem that holds the others in place.

MAGATHA:  I may need to bide my time for now, but the Iris will be mine yet!  And as for you, orc – I’ll get you, my cranky, and your little wyvern, too!

Magatha leaps onto Arikara’s back and takes off.

LIADRIN:  She’ll be back.  I hope you can handle powerful enemies.

GARROSH:  I’ve dealt with worse.  Matter of fact, I was working on one just before I wound up here.

LIADRIN:  What enemy was that?

GARROSH:  A demon called Malchezaar – taking him out wouldn’t even be that big of a deal, but I kind of have to get him out of his lair in order to defeat him.

LIADRIN:  Something you would need powerful magic to do?

GARROSH:  Probably.  Magic not really being my strong suit.

LIADRIN:  I may know whose it is.  You want to talk to the Wizard of Zhan.

GARROSH:  The who now?

LIADRIN:  The Wizard of Zhan!  He’s a wise, mysterious mage who lives in the Dark Tower far away.

GARROSH:  So this guy is pretty powerful?

LIADRIN:  Extremely – they say there’s no end to what he can do.

GARONA:  Let’s not get carried away now.

GARROSH:  You know him?

GARONA:  We’ve met.

GARROSH:  So how do I get to him?

LIADRIN:  The tower of Zhan is far to the east of Dustwallow, in the Pass of Dying Winds.  Luckily for you, the eastward Gold Road will take you straight there.

Liadrin points to the yellow brick road beneath their feet.

GARROSH:  Well that’s convenient.

GARONA:  I can go with you, since I know the Wizard.

LIADRIN:  You should get started – it’s a long trip, especially since you’ll be walking.

GARROSH:  Screw walking, I’ve got my wyvern right here.  I can just hop on and fly along the road.

GARONA:  Great!  I can get on behind you and hold onto you.

GARROSH:  Okay, so walking it is.  Grats on the dodged bullet, Mortimer.

GARONAFine.

LIADRIN:  We’ll see you off!  Good luck on your journey!

GARROSH:  Hey, actually…you said this road leads right to Zhan?

LIADRIN:  Yes, it does.

GARROSH:  Even though there’s an ocean between here and there?  Because we’re kind of on a different continent.

LIADRIN:  Yes, but fortunately the road runs across the Willing Suspension Bridge of Disbelief.

GARROSH:  Huh.  Okay then.  Off we go.

Garrosh, Garona, and Mortimer start to follow the road while the Mudsprockets gather behind them.

 

{OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD}

GOBLINS:

You’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan.
We hear he’s sage: the mightiest mage
Who ever met mortal man.
If you seek some sorcery for your plan,
The Wizard’s your man, because he can –
He can, he can, he can, he can, he can.
He’ll have it all done before it began!
You’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan!

The curtains close.

 

{TO BE CONTINUED IN ACT 2}

West Azeroth Story, Act 3

Posted in Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 23, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

The curtain rises.  Spotlights illuminate the left and right sides of the stage separately, as Garrosh leads the Horde forces across the Barrens on one side and Varian leads the Alliance from Theramore.

 

{QUINTET}

HORDE:

The Horde is gonna have its day
Tonight.
The Horde is gonna have its way
Tonight.
Alliance think we’re jokin’, no doubt,
But once their king is broken,
We’re kicking them out.

ALLIANCE:

We’re gonna look ’em in the eyes
Tonight.
We’re gonna cut ’em down to size
Tonight.
We told ’em they could can it: war cries.
We’ll kick ’em off our planet
Once Garrosh, he dies
Tonight.

HORDE:

We’re gonna stop it tonight,
We’re going to drive them off and take Kalimdor!

ALLIANCE:

We’ll turn the tables tonight,
We can’t afford to mess around anymore –
Green-skins invade us!

HORDE:

The Legion made us!
But this time we’re the ones who’ll finish this war!

ALL:

Tonight!

A spotlight illuminates a Theramore courtyard at stage right, where Jaina is seen with Rhonin.

JAINA:

I really do not like this plan
Tonight.
Things really could get out of hand
Tonight.

RHONIN:

They’ll show up for the battle:
Brief truce.
With you there, maybe that’ll
Give an excuse
Tonight?

Jaina nods to Rhonin and rushes out.

A spotlight illuminates Mokvar crossing the Southfury River into the Barrens.

MOKVAR:

Tonight, tonight,
This stinks like saronite.
Tonight the flames of war could be fanned.
Tonight, tonight,
When our two leaders fight,
That Malkorok may have something planned.

One more spotlight illuminates the Theramore tower, where Deliana looks out a window.

DELIANA:

Tonight
The past may come back calling,
The future that we’re stalling,
And now, out of my sight,
There’s such a fright
That what we’ve done is coming to light…

HORDE:

The Horde is coming out on top tonght!
We’re gonna watch Varian drop tonight!
They’ll go slow as molasses,
Cry and pout.
The door will hit their asses
On their way out.

Garrosh, Malkorok, the rest of the Horde group, and Deliana overlap:

GARROSH:

<to Malkorok>  You keep a wide-open eye.

MALKOROK:

Right.

GARROSH:

In case he tries something sly.

MALKOROK:

Right.

GARROSH:

For the Horde!

HORDE:

For the Horde!

MALKOROK:

And they might have a surprise
Tonight.

DELIANA:

Tonight, tonight
Our role it might indict,
Tonight the flames of war could be fanned.

The Horde, Alliance, Mokvar, Deliana, and Jaina – who is now riding across Dustwallow Marsh – overlap:

HORDE and ALLIANCE:

We’re gonna stop it tonight!
We’re gonna end it tonight!
They’re gonna get it tonight!

ALLIANCE:

They invaded,
They invaded,
They invaded.

HORDE:

Here we’ve made it,
Here we’ve made it,
Home: we made it.

ALLIANCE:

We can’t afford to mess around.
Alliance has to win the day,
Alliance has to find a way.
We’ve got to stop it tonight.

HORDE:

We’re gonna grind them to the ground,
The Horde is gonna have its day,
The Horde is gonna have its way.
We’ve got to stop it tonight.

JAINA:

Tonight, tonight,
We just might
Have one chance to get it right:
Now Jaina’s got to find a way
To broker peace before the fray:
Will cooler heads carry the day?
Tonight, tonight,
Our future could be bright –
I’ve got to stop it tonight!

DELIANA:

Tonight, tonight,
When our two leaders fight,
That Malkorok may have something planned.

MOKVAR and DELIANA:

Tonight
The past may come back calling,
The future that we’re stalling,

MOKVAR:

And now, within my sight,

DELIANA:

And now, out of my sight,

MOKVAR and DELIANA:

There’s such a fright
That what we’ve done is coming to light…

ALL:

Tonight.

Blackout.  From either side of the stage, the Horde and Alliance enter the Battlescar in the Southern Barrens.  Both groups spread out over their respective sides of the field, then Garrosh and Varian approach each other at center stage, accompanied by Malkorok and Mathias Shaw.

VARIAN:  Warchief.

GARROSH:  Dickface.

VARIAN:  You’re a classy guy, Hellscream, anyone ever tell you that?

GARROSH:  I can have them put that on your gravestone if you want.

VARIAN:  Are you ready?

GARROSH:  To finally put you in the ground?  I’ve been ready for that for years.

Varian draws Shalamayne and extends it in front of him.

VARIAN:  Your blade?

GARROSH:  What about it?

SHAW:  If you would let us inspect it for doctoring.

GARROSH:  What the hell are you implying?

VARIAN:  We’re not implying anything.  It’s just customary to examine each other’s weapons so we can see no one is—

MALKOROK:  The two-legged rodent is suggesting you would poison your blade, Warchief.  For that alone this mongrel will—

GARROSH:  You DARE insinuate I would cheat, human?

VARIAN:  Obviously, Garrosh, you would never employ questionable methods when faced with honorable combat.  Nevertheless.

Varian gestures with Shalamayne.  Garrosh grumbles, then begrudgingly draws Gorehowl and holds it in front of him.

SHAW:  Thank you, Warchief.

VARIAN:  Now then.

GARROSH:  Have your people stand back, Varian.  This is between you and me.

VARIAN:  You do the same.

Garrosh waves to the Horde group, which steps back and spreads in a semicircle from the side of the stage to the background.  Varian signals to the Alliance members, who mirror the Horde’s movements.

MALKOROK:  Now – begin!

Garrosh and Varian rush at each other and begin to fight as furious music swells.  They lunge and parry, circle around the middle of the stage, and match each other’s moves in rhythm with the music.  As the duel unfolds, the spectators begin to shout and cheer for their respective leader, until the cacophonous yells begin to blend into a rhythmic chanting that becomes a counterpoint to the music.

Several times over the course of the fight, Garrosh and Varian lock weapons until one of them shoves the other back toward one side of the stage.  Each time, they circle around then resume their clash at center stage.

Slowly, in the background, Malkorok begins to make his way closer to the Alliance side of the circle.  From under his cloak, he withdraws a long dagger, shining with a sickly green gleam.

Mokvar enters at the edge of the stage.  As he arrives, Garrosh and Varian lock blades and rotate around as each tries to outmuscle the other.  Garrosh finally gains the upper hand and flings Varian back toward the Alliance side.  Malkorok moves toward him from behind, dagger in hand.

MOKVAR:  No!  Look out!

Mokvar runs to center stage and tackles Varian to the ground, in the process knocking him out of the way of Malkorok’s stab.

FALSTAD:  They’re attackin’ His Majesty!

SHAW:  That one had a dagger!

MALKOROK:  <recovering himself>  That treasonous scribe!  He’s helping the human!

SHANDRIS:  They were never going to honor the duel!

GARROSH:  Mokvar!  You!  If I didn’t see it with my own eyes…!

The two sides rush at each other and begin fighting, largely in the background.  At center stage, Garrosh dodges a few Alliance swings, then grabs Mokvar and holds him by his neck while drawing Gorehowl back.

GARROSH:  You…traitorous…!

As Garrosh prepares to swing, Varian grabs him from behind – jarring Garrosh enough to make him lose his grip on Mokvar – and plunges Shalamayne through his back and out of his chest.

GARROSH:  <looking down at the blade>  Oh for fuck’s sake…AGAIN?

MOKVAR:  Oh…oh crap…

GARROSH:  Also, how come this doesn’t actually hurt?  I mean I know I’m badass and all, but…

BARNES:  <from offstage>  It’s just a glamour, you silly actor – special effects can’t really hurt you.

GARROSH:  I…  <looking around>  Oh…

BARNES:  Now stop breaking the fourth wall and get back to your scene!

GARROSH:  Aren’t YOU the one—

BARNESAction!

GARROSH:  <sighs>  Fine.  <flatly>  Oh I am slain.  Oh agony.  Now I shrug off this mortal coil, it is to laugh, the end.  And shit.

Garrosh drops to the ground, where he lays mostly still while making a half-hearted attempt to play dead.  Around him the fighting rages on between the Horde and Alliance.

LIADRIN:  Garrosh!

DONTRAG:  He killed the Warchief!

UTVOCH:  You bastard!

VARIAN:  Victory!  Hellscream has fallen!  For the Alli—

Garona unstealths behind Varian and stunlocks him, then unleashes a flurry of blows until he drops to the ground.

GARONA:  House of Wrynn!  Two generations running!  Tell Anduin to sleep lightly!  Booyah!

Garona stealths again.  The two sides continue to battle frantically.

MALKOROK:  Now!  With Wrynn slain!  Now, shamans, show the dogs the first of our surprises!

A handful of dark-clad shaman emerge from the Horde group and begin channeling spells.  Several of the surrounding boulders begin to glow, then rise up as molten giants and begin to attack the Alliance.

Jaina enters.

JAINA:  By the Light!  What’s happening here?!

FALSTAD:  The devils ’a broken the agreement!

SHAW:  They’ve killed Varian!

The molten giants stomp on several Alliance soldiers and send the group scattering.

JAINA:  We have to get out of here!  Everyone to me!

The Alliance rush to Jaina, who teleports them away.  The shaman stop channeling their spells, and the molten giants collapse back into boulders.

MALKOROK:  Horde!  The Alliance flees, but they will not escape!  Quickly, to Brackenwall Village!  We will regroup and bring the fight to them!  For the Horde!

The Horde exits, leaving the stage empty save for the bodies of Garrosh and Varian.  The stage lights lower, save for dim lights still illuminating the bodies.

GARROSH:  Well that sucked.

VARIAN:  Yeah, it kind of did.

GARROSH:  Yeah.

VARIAN:  Still, though…

GARROSH:  What?

VARIAN:  For the record, I got you.

GARROSH:  Fuck you, Varian.

Blackout.  In a Theramore tower, Deliana paces the room.

Jaina enters.

DELIANA:  Jaina!  What happened?

JAINA:  <sighs>  Varian is dead.

DELIANA:  What?!  How?  You mean now we have to…?

JAINA:  It’s not that simple.  Varian is dead, but so is Garrosh.  I’m still not sure how it all happened – by the time I got there, things had already—

A knock at the door is heard.

JONATHAN:  <outside>  Lady Proudmoore!

JAINA:  Come in, General.

The door opens and General Marcus Jonathan enters, along with Jaina’s night elf bodyguard Pained; the pair holds Mokvar captive.

JONATHAN:  Lady Proudmoore, this orc was found lurking outside the city.  He didn’t resist capture, but he did insist on speaking with you.

DELIANA:  Mokvar!

JAINA:  You know him, Deliana?

PAINED:  You should be more selective in your friends.  Shandris says this is one of the orcs that helped kill Varian.

DELIANA:  He what?

MOKVAR:  That’s…not entirely accurate.

JONATHAN:  That’s enough from you, orc.

DELIANA:  There has to have been some mistake.

JONATHAN:  There were several, starting with the decision to trust these green-skinned—

JAINA:  That’s enough, General.  You can leave us.  I’d like to have a few words with the prisoner.

JONATHAN:  As you wish.

JAINA:  You too, Pained.  Please wait outside.

PAINED:  With all due respect, my lady, my place is—

JAINA:  Is where I tell you to go, Pained.  I can take care of myself.

PAINED:  Yes, ma’am.

Jonathan and Pained exit.  Jaina turns to Deliana.

JAINA:  How long have you known him?

DELIANA:  We go back quite a few years.

JAINA:  You trust him?

DELIANA:  I’ve spent the last six years hiding in Ironforge for safety.  I think he did more to protect me from Orgrimmar in that time than any of the dwarves ever did.

JAINA:  <turns to Mokvar>  They say you attacked Varian.  Here’s your chance to explain.

MOKVAR:  I jumped him.  That much is true.  But I wasn’t attacking him.  I was trying to push him out of the way of the one who was.

JAINA:  Who, Garrosh?  Why would you try to swing the duel against the Horde?

MOKVAR:  No, not Garrosh.  If it was just him and Varian, I would have stayed out of it.  It was Malkorok.  He was about to stab Varian from behind.

DELIANA:  Malkorok… Of course it was Malkorok.

MOKVAR:  It ended up backfiring.  Both sides thought I was working against them, and in the chaos, Garrosh was killed.  And by that point I don’t think anyone was interested in honoring the terms of the duel.

JAINA:  I don’t even know how many on our side will be willing to listen to reason now.

DELIANA:  Jaina, can’t you rein them in?  You’d have to be one of the highest ranking people left.

JAINA:  I can try, but I don’t know how much good it will do.  With Anduin still a boy, there’s no clear line of succession, so right now I’m merely one in a sea of voices.

MOKVAR:  The Horde is having its own problems with succession, only worse.  It looks like Malkorok is effectively taking over.

DELIANA:  Oh no…

JAINA:  Who is this Malkorok?

MOKVAR:  A Blackrock orc who used to work for Rend Blackhand.  At least he gave the appearance of it.  I don’t think he ever really served anyone or anything other than his own agenda.

JAINA:  I take it having him leading the Horde would be bad news for all involved.

MOKVAR:  Let’s put it this way.  I know Garrosh was no bargain.  But this guy?  Malkorok would make Garrosh look like Thrall.

JAINA:  Do you think there are others in the Horde who will still resist him?

MOKVAR:  I know there are others who won’t be thrilled to have him in charge.  The only question is whether Malkorok’s managed to scare them into submission.

JAINA:  Then you need to go do what you can while there are some who’ll still listen.  And if not…

Jaina reaches into a pocket and produces a small, smooth stone with totemic markings, then slips it into Mokvar’s hand.

…I think you know what this is for.

Mokvar nods.  Jaina starts to channel a spell, and a portal appears in the room.

Go now – hurry.

MOKVAR:  What will you tell the others?

JAINA:  You let me worry about that.

DELIANA:  Stay safe, Mokvar.

MOKVAR:  I think “safe” is long off the board for all of us.  But it’s partly our fault this is happening.

DELIANA:  I know.  Be careful.

MOKVAR:  Always am.

Mokvar disappears through the portal.

Blackout.  In Brackenwall Village, the Horde group arrives, met by Krog and Draz’Zilb.

KROG:  Malkorok?  What are you all doing here?

MALKOROK:  The human king is slain – but not without a cost!  The dogs turned on us with aid from one of our own, and murdered the Warchief!

KROG:  They what?  Garrosh is dead?

MALKOROK:  He is…but we will ensure that he soon finds himself in good company.

FARANELL:  Wait, didn’t we have an agreement with the Alliance that the duel would decide control of Kalimdor?  And, well, Varian did kill Garrosh before—

Malkorok steps up to Faranell quickly and knocks him down with a vicious blow.

MALKOROK:  Unless you wish to lose more pieces of that rotting corpse you call a body, mage, I recommend you choose your words carefully.

Malkorok glares around as some of the group exchange looks in uneasy silence.

UTVOCH:  I can’t believe the Warchief died…

DONTRAG:  What are we doing now?

DRAZ’ZILB:  Surely we can’t let the Warchief’s death go unanswered!

MALKOROK:  Nor will we!  Listen to me, soldiers of the Horde!  I had little doubt the Alliance pigs would show their true colors in this affair, but we will see to it that they pay for their treachery!

Mokvar enters.

Oh, and speaking of treachery!  Here’s the dog who turned on his own Warchief to lend aid to the human!  Seize him!

Mokvar is apprehended by a pair of Kor’kron and brought closer to the group.

MOKVAR:  It’s funny how selective your memory is, Malkorok.  I’m a traitor for helping Varian, but you’re awfully quick to gloss over what I was helping him against – we both know it wasn’t Garrosh.

MALKOROK:  You think I hide my role, scribe?  Hardly – I take pride in it!  I came to the aid of my Warchief; you came to the aid of his mortal enemy.  Tell me again which of us here should hang his head!

LIADRIN:  Wait, you were interfering with the fight?  It was supposed to be honorable combat!

MALKOROK:  You will be silent, elf!

Malkorok steps toward Liadrin and throws a punch at her; she deflects it with a paladin bubble, then stuns Malkorok with a Hammer of Justice.

LIADRIN:  Now now, didn’t your mother teach you not to hit a lady?  She would be ashamed.

MALKOROK:  <seething as he collects himself>  She taught me to crush my foes.

LIADRIN:  Then she would be doubly ashamed if the lady in question were to beat you down.

MOKVARThat’s why I jumped in – to keep him from ambushing Varian and—

MALKOROK:  And slaying the leader of our enemy!  Are you fool enough to think you serve our Warchief by saving his nemesis?

MOKVAR:  Garrosh Hellscream had many failings, but he believed in honor.  At least until he started having his steps shadowed by the likes of you.

MALKOROK:  In battle, nothing is more honorable than victory.

MOKVAR:  Funny, I can think of at least one victory Garrosh would have gladly given back…

MALKOROK:  Keep spinning your words, scribe – it’s what a coward like you does, isn’t it?

Malkorok turns to the rest of the group.

The rest of you – what I am calling for is not words.  Your fallen Warchief did not spend his days dawdling over words.  He sought action.  For the safety of the Horde!  For the glory of the Horde!  So let this scribe lull you into submission with his words – I call on you to act!  To avenge your leader!  To finally strike the human disease that has too long infected this continent.  Will you join me?  Or will you sit here, and bandy about words, and wring your hands over niceties – until the Alliance again show themselves for what they are, and again come to enslave our people, and again leave the ground stained with orcish blood?

Many of the Horde troops, including most of the Kor’kron, start to shout in support.

Good!  That is the Horde I know!  Now, all of you!  Follow me, and we will show the Alliance what becomes of those who draw our wrath!  To Theramore!  More surprises await the humans…

DRAZ’ZILB:  None greater than how quickly they’ll fall before us!

KROG:  Hell yeah, we’ll roll over the humans so fast they won’t even know what hit them!

MALKOROK:  Oh no, soldiers, not quickly – quick is painless.  And these humans must be made to suffer for their crimes against our people!

DRAZ’ZILBNow you’re talking my language!

DONTRAG:  <aside>  Does this seem a little strange to you?

UTVOCH:  <aside>  All I know is they killed the Warchief… I guess it makes sense to go after them…

MALKOROK:  Every pain these humans have brought to us will be repaid tenfold tonight!  You want to avenge your Warchief?  Then leave your pity and your mercy here – bring only your rage and your cruelty!

 

{CRUEL}

MALKOROK:

Horde, Horde, angry Horde,
Get cruel, Horde!
Vow again, gents, for your vengeance,
Get cruelly cruel, Horde!
Don’t relent, ’cause we have spent
Too long holding back.
Set in mind that humankind
Is overdue for some cruel payback.

Horde, Horde, vengeful Horde!
Stay fierce, Horde!
From the skies comes their demise,
Bring them to tears, Horde!
Fight, Horde, fight,
Each human we’ll smite, each fool floored.
Unleash, be cruel, Horde,
Real cruel.

Mokvar, Liadrin, and Faranell watch the rest of the group march off behind Malkorok.

LIADRIN:  I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I think I’m actually glad Garrosh didn’t live to see this…

MOKVAR:  Yeah…

Mokvar tries to take a step, but is restrained by the two Kor’kron who’ve remained behind, and are still holding him.

<looking back and forth between the Kor’kron>  Huh.

One of the Kor’kron slumps over, sapped.

KOR’KRON #2:  What the—?

The other Kor’kron turns into a sheep in a puff of smoke.

FARANELL:  That’s better.

Garona unstealths behind the sapped guard.

GARONA:  You really have a way with people, Mokvar.

MOKVAR:  I know, right?  Still…thanks for sticking with me.  All of you.

LIADRIN:  I think we’re about to be outcasts among the outcasts.

FARANELL:  Eh.  You get used to it.

MOKVAR:  I was hoping there would be more who would listen…

LIADRIN:  Right now they don’t know what to think.  So most of them aren’t.

FARANELL:  And the rest of them are Dontrag and Utvoch.  So, you know…

GARONA:  What was that business about the surprise for Theramore?

LIADRIN:  I don’t know, but…wait…that part about it coming from the skies…

FARANELL:  What are you thinking?

LIADRIN:  <looks up>  There’s been a goblin sky galleon circling around the western Barrens all night…

FARANELL:  Sending troops in by parachute?

GARONA:  He would send a gunship for that.  A galleon isn’t designed for troop deployment, just…payload.

LIADRIN:  I think he’s planning to use a bomb…

MOKVAR:  Jaina’s trying to calm the Alliance down and get them to listen to reason, but that’s off the board if Malkorok escalates things even more.

FARANELL:  Remember when this cunning plan was going to spare us a big, messy, drawn-out war?

MOKVAR:  I’m hoping we can still limit the damage…

LIADRIN:  What do you have in mind?

MOKVAR:  For starters – Garona, can you stealth into Theramore?  We need you to warn them about what Malkorok’s doing.

GARONA:  Wait, you want to warn the Alliance that a Horde attack is coming?

LIADRIN:  To keep all of this from getting any further out of hand than it already is.

MOKVAR:  And to let them see that not all of the Horde has gone crazy.

GARONA:  Ugh, fine.  I’ll get in and try to warn them.

LIADRIN:  What about Edwin and I?  What do you want us to do?

MOKVAR:  Run.

LIADRIN:  What?

FARANELL:  I can handle that.

MOKVAR:  Get back to the Eastern Kingdoms.

LIADRIN:  Why?  We should do something to help here.

FARANELL:  Don’t argue with the man.  Not-here sounds terrific.

MOKVAR:  Look, there’s no telling how much uglier this is going to get for us.  If things really go bad in Kalimdor, we need some good people still standing over on the other continent.

LIADRIN:  There’s still Sylvanas and Lor’themar to run things there.

MOKVAR:  You mean Miss “When in Doubt, Throw More Plague on It”—

FARANELL:  You do realize who she has in charge of making all the plague, right?

MOKVAR:  —and Mr. “Does Anyone Actually Know Who I Am, and By the Way Does This Dress Make Me Look Fat”?

LIADRIN:  Seriously, why does no one ever remember who Lor’themar is?

GARONA:  Who?

LIADRIN:  <sigh>

MOKVAR:  Liadrin, really, I know you want to help, but right now the best way for you to do that is by getting somewhere safe.

LIADRIN:  What are you going to do?

MOKVAR:  <taking out the stone he’d received from Jaina>  I’ve got one more card to try playing.

LIADRIN:  Whatever it is, good luck.

MOKVAR:  To all of us.

Garona stealths and sneaks off; Faranell teleports himself and Liadrin away.  Mokvar holds out the stone, channels a spell for several seconds, then disappears in a green flash.

Blackout.  In Theramore, Jaina joins Deliana in the tower above.

JAINA:  You haven’t moved since Mokvar left.

DELIANA:  <shrugs>  As long as I keep looking and not seeing anything, then nothing else is coming apart.

JAINA:  Hopefully he’ll be able to convince them.

DELIANA:  Hopefully.  Thank you for being willing to listen to him.

JAINA:  I’ve been rumored to know what it’s like to trust an orc when it’s not a terribly popular thing to do.

Rhonin enters.  As he does, stagelights illuminate the Theramore courtyard below, where Garona unstealths.  The scene below unfolds as the conversation in the tower continues: Garona is immediately attacked by Pained, Shaw, and a few of the Theramore guards; she attempts to fend off their attacks without actively striking anyone, while trying to talk, but to no avail; eventually more Alliance troops mob her, beating her viciously.

JAINA:  Rhonin – any luck calming them down?

RHONIN:  <shaking head>  No more than you’ve had so far.  This entire turn of events is proof of why both sides should have listened when we tried to start peace talks.

JAINA:  I don’t think listening was ever the strong suit of either of the leaders involved.

RHONIN:  Still, I’m hopeful that given a chance to calm down, they’ll eventually be willing to reconsider.

JAINA:  The question is whether they’ll give themselves that chance to calm down.

RHONIN:  You think they might do something rash?

JAINA:  If they don’t, the Horde might.  Either way, we all lose.

Falstad and Jonathan drag a bloodied Garona up to the tower and enter, followed closely by Pained and Shaw.

JONATHAN:  Lady Proudmoore, we have another Horde captive!

JAINA:  What…what did you do to her?

SHAW:  Nothing these orcs don’t deserve.

FALSTAD:  Aye, the troops made sure this one’d be takin’ some partin’ gifts, if’n she escapes…

JAINA:  This… Is this what it’s come to now?  Is this what we’ve reduced ourselves to?

PAINED:  We didn’t start this war, my lady.

GARONA:  <halting>  No…but Malkorok…is coming…coming to finish it.

JAINA:  Malkorok!  He’s still in charge?  Mokvar couldn’t stop him?

GARONA:  He…he tried… And then he…he sent me to…to warn you…to…  <looks around disgustedly>  …to save you…

JAINA:  Warn us about what?  What is Malkorok doing?

SHAW:  <shoving Garona>  Answer her, orc!

JAINALet her!

GARONA:  Malkorok…Malkorok is bringing the Horde to…to attack Theramore…and…  <spits out blood, then looks around again angrily>  He’s throwing the whole force at the north gate…

PAINED:  We can pull everyone into the keep and fortify it, my lady – they’ll never get past the walls without siege engines.

SHAW:  Still, I’d recommend sending out an advance force to intercept, maybe thin out their numbers before they can get here.

JAINA:  See to that, Mathias.  While you go out to meet them, we’ll make sure the city is sealed up tightly.  General Jonathan?

JONATHAN:  Yes, Lady Proudmoore?

JAINA:  I want you, General Redmane, and Admiral Aubrey coordinating the defenses here.  I’ll speak to Rhonin about setting up some spells to reinforce the outer gates.

JONATHAN:  Yes, ma’am.  I’ll relay your orders.

Jonathan runs out.  As he releases his grip on Garona, she jerks to one side and pulls free of Falstad’s grip, then stealths.

FALSTAD:  Dammit!  Where’d tha’ one go?

PAINED:  We’re having a very bad day with prisoners today…

JAINA:  Never mind that – everyone get to work preparing for the attack.

The other officers exit.

I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this…

DELIANA:  I think I see them coming…

JAINA:  <sighs>  I’d better get down there, then…

Jaina exits; Deliana continues watching from the window.

Blackout.  In Dustwallow Marsh, near Theramore, Malkorok enters with the rest of the Horde force, stage left.  From stage right, an Alliance group enters, led by Falstad, Shandris, and Shaw.

SHANDRIS:  There they are!  Stop them!  For the Alliance!

The Alliance rushes at the Horde and the two sides begin fighting.  Malkorok stands back, surveying the battle and watching the sky.  As the fighting rages on, he fires a flare into the sky; after a moment, a blinding burst of light flashes from offstage to the right, as an enormous explosion is heard.  The blast throws several of the Alliance on the right side of the stage a good distance to the left, and many of them sprawl on the ground unconscious.

MALKOROK:  HAHA!  There!  It is done!  See what becomes of the enemies of the Horde, Alliance dogs!  Now, quickly, finish them all, and—

MOKVAR:  <offstage>  Not so fast!

Mokvar enters in ghost wolf form from stage left, closely followed by Vol’jin mounted on a raptor and Baine Bloodhoof on a kodo.

VOL’JIN:  Yah, mon, dere been enough killin’ already taday!

MALKOROK:  You!  I see the traitor has made friends among the malcontents!  No matter, troll, you can watch and learn how—

BAINE:  We will watch nothing other than you standing down!

MALKOROK:  Stand down!  Do you think yourself Warchief now, tauren?  Is that an order?

BAINE:  No, Malkorok, I know I’m not Warchief.  <stares Malkorok down a moment>  And yes, that’s an order.

From stage right, Jaina staggers in unsteadily.

Lady Proudmoore!

SHANDRIS:  <pulling herself up slowly>  Jaina…you…you survived…!

JAINA:  Rhonin…Rhonin ported me out of the city at the last second… But he…he…

MOKVAR:  <looking offstage to the right>  Liana…?

JAINA:  <looking back>  My…my city…my people… They’re…they’re…

MALKOROK:  Enough of this!  Soldiers of the Horde, this is our moment – strike down your enemies once and for all, and—

BAINE:  They will do nothing of the kind, Malkorok!

VOL’JIN:  You be done givin’ orders, mon!

MALKOROK:  And who will, troll?  You?  You think you have any authority to take over here?

VOL’JIN:  Funny ting you be askin’, mon.

Another ghost wolf enters behind Vol’jin, Baine, and Mokvar.

I ain’t da one who be takin’ over.

The ghost wolf moves to center stage and transforms into Thrall.

THRALL:  I believe you’ve done more than enough today, Malkorok.

MALKOROK:  So the prodigal shaman returns!  No matter!

Malkorok draws his axes and rushes at Thrall.  Before he can reach him, Thrall extends one hand and summons a whirlwind that holds Malkorok suspended above the ground.

THRALL:  I’ve faced far more imposing threats than you.  More menacing and chilling than the likes of you could even imagine.

MALKOROK:  <struggling to break out of the whirlwind>  Yes, I know all about your battle with Deathwing, shaman…

THRALL:  I was talking about Aggra with morning sickness.

Jaina finally pulls her attention away from the ruined city and approaches center stage, looking around angrily.

JAINA:  I tried to tell you… And Rhonin… You did this…all of you…did this with your hate…  <starts to build a fireball in her hand>  Well now I have some hate of my own…

THRALL:  Jaina, no!

JAINA:  Don’t try to defend him, Thrall!  You see what he did here!

THRALL:  <glares over to Malkorok, still suspended>  I could care less what happens to this…this.  But the rest of my people have done nothing.

Jaina continues gathering the fireball in her hand as she eyes Malkorok.  In the background, Dontrag and Utvoch can be seen helping Falstad and Shaw to their feet.

JAINA:  Get them out of here.

SHAW:  But Jaina, they—

JAINAToday isn’t the day for anyone to argue with me.  Get them together and get them away from here, Go’el.

Thrall nods, then gestures to Vol’jin and Baine.

BAINE:  All of you, come and come quickly.

VOL’JIN:  Time ta make ourselves invisible like da Lich King’s horse!

BAINE:  You really need a new joke.  Seriously.

The Horde slowly makes its way offstage to the left; Baine and Vol’jin follow them.  Mokvar finally pulls himself away from the sight of Theramore and slowly walks across the stage, stopping to stare a moment at Malkorok as he goes, then exits as well.  Jaina’s gaze never moves from Malkorok.

JAINA:  We’ve all lost a great deal to this conflict…  <looks back over her shoulder>  All of you…leave us.

The Alliance members trickle out; Shaw is the last one to linger at the edge of the stage.

SHAW:  Um, actually, strictly speaking, there isn’t anyplace for us to go to anymo—

JAINAGet OUT, Mathias.

SHAW:  Random swamp wandering it is, yes ma’am.

Shaw exits.

JAINA:  You should go too, Thrall.

THRALL:  I suspect there are more than a few pieces to pick up back in Orgrimmar.

JAINA:  You should go help pick them up, then.

THRALL:  I’m sorry for your people, Jaina.

JAINA:  A lot of us are sorry.  Or will be.

Thrall releases Malkorok and starts to walk away.

MALKOROK:  The great Warchief!  That’s it, is it?  You side with this human over your own kind!

THRALL:  <continuing to walk away without looking back>  You are not my kind, Malkorok.

Thrall exits.

MALKOROK:  Don’t you walk away from me when I’m—

Malkorok starts to move toward Thrall but is stopped when Jaina unleashes her fireball on the ground in front of him, cutting off his path with a wide patch of flame.

JAINA:  Malkorok, is it?  I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.  I’m Jaina Proudmoore.  <summons another fireball in her hand>  I think it’s time we had a long, long – terribly long, really, and maybe unnecessarily slow – talk.

The curtain closes.  Just as it does, a bright red flash can be seen through the heavy cloth, accompanied by an orcish voice crying out.  The remaining stage lights go out.

It’s a celebration, bitches!

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , on September 30, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

We took our time marching back to Orgrimmar from the glowing crater that used to be Theramore.  Most of the way, Baine and Vol’jin sulked and moped like somebody had killed the family pet, but overall the troops were in good spirits, to say the least.  And then, when we finally approached Orgrimmar, morale took an even greater turn for the better.

Outside the city, people were gathered to greet us.  Hundreds – maybe thousands – of citizens of every race, gathered at the front gate and all across the Dranosh’ar Blockade, waving, cheering, crying out to us as we approached.  They were gathered so densely that we couldn’t even get in the gate when we finally reached it.  It was like the hero’s welcome we received on our victorious return from Northrend – only better.  More raucous.  More jubilant.  More hopeful for the glorious future for the Horde that we could all feel dawning.

The crowd chanted my name as I sat on my worg at the gate.  They wouldn’t stop until I finally called for them to listen while I told the tale of our triumph.  When I finished, they burst into another spontaneous chant: “Death to the Alliance!”

Music to my ears.  Almost enough to full the hollow ache that’s nagged at me since Northwatch.

On the way back to Orgrimmar, I sent orders to Captain Gharga and the fleet at Theramore for the next stage of our plan.  The fleet will spread around the continent and form a blockade around all remaining Alliance ports: Lor’danel, Feathermoon Stronghold, Rut’theran Village, Azuremyst Isle.  They’ll all be sealed off from outside support and then, one by one, we’ll move in and pick them apart, until finally, Kalimdor will belong to the Horde and the Horde alone.

But that will be a victory for the future.  The NEAR future, make no mistake, but the future nonetheless.  For today, we have another victory to celebrate.

I’ve ordered six days of festivities in Orgrimmar to commemorate what I know will prove to be the turning point in the history of the Horde.  All of our warriors are instructed to remain in Durotar for the length of the celebration, and I’ll be issuing individual summons for all those I’ll be expecting to stay in Orgrimmar proper.  Six days of celebrations – raptor fights for our entertainment, sparring contests with generous prizes funded personally by yours truly, food and drink for all.  As it happens, our return home coincides almost perfectly with Brewfest, so all the better – beer and grog from around the world!  Tap every keg in sight, boys and girls, and let the ale flow – all on your Warchief’s tab.  Let it wash down the feasts – and oh, man, will there ever be feasts.  All accompanied by lok’tras and lok’vadnods by the best of our bards and poets.

And you know what that means.  Oh yeah.

 
          to a young mage

 

Jaina, are you shattered
Over Theramore, all splattered?
Towns, by sleight of hand, you
Can’t just conjure up, now can you?
If not, tough – no QQ’in’,
You’re just stuck now ruling ruins.
Of course, that would assume
You weren’t blown up when things went boom;
Chance you’re grieving now decreases
If you’re smashed to little pieces!
But whether live or dead you lie,
Now you’ll weep and you’ll know why:
Orcish destiny restored,
All opposed fall to the Horde!
Tis the blight humans were born for,
The Alliance that you mourn for.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

Enjoy it, Horde.  Soak it in.  You’ve earned it.

 

 

[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]

The fall of Theramore

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 28, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

Victory from the jaws of defeat.

Or, no, that’s not quite accurate.  Defeat was never really in the picture.  This was more victory from under the guide of defeat.

That much sweeter, in a way.  Let the humans think they’d won, right up to the moment that their doom became inescapable.  The moment they realized it was upon them, and had nothing left to do but stand there helplessly and watch it come.

Today was a good day.

 

After we left Northwatch Hold, we marched south and made short work of Fort Triumph.  I couldn’t help chuckling at the irony of the name while we annihilated what passed for its defenses.  I think our soldiers were so eager for battle after the long wait at Northwatch that they threw themselves with ever great ferocity into the fight once it finally came.

The long wait at Northwatch.  To them – what? – six days?

They’ll never know how long their Warchief had been waiting for this moment.

We continued on our way into Dustwallow Marsh and divided our forces at the fork in the road.  Half of our troops traveled north with me, while half went east with Malkorok.  We would meet at Theramore and strike both its gates at the same time.  As my half of the army made its way north, we added reinforcements from Brackenwall Village – Krog and Draz’Zilb among them – then continued on our way toward Theramore.

My contingent was the first to reach the city.  Jaina had recruited aid from the Kirin Tor to help strengthen the city’s defenses against our battering rams and siege engines.  It was a wise decision on her part.  Pity I’d been counting on it.  Me and…what’s his name, the blood elf guy.  I can never remember.  I should probably work on that, seeing as he really stepped up to the plate with more than one part of this plan.

See, Jaina had called in mages from the Kirin Tor to help hold the Theramore gates against our attack.  A powerful mage could reinforce a gate for a good long time against our siege.  As it happened, though, one of those crucial, city-saving mages was a guy by the name of Thalen Songweaver.

A blood elf.

See if you can guess who writes his checks.

Down came the gates, and in came the Horde.

Malkorok’s forces joined ours in the midst of it all, and Captain Drok and the rest of the Horde fleet hit the harbor.  Our troops flooded into Theramore, laying waste to its defenders.  Jaina and her wizard friends did a decent job of chipping away at our numbers from above, but on the ground, none of the Theramore soldiers could hold their own against our assault.

Everything was going perfectly until Jaina’s new blue dragon friend turned up and started dropping boulders and trees over the broken gate.  Kalecgos… I remember meeting him, once, just after Deathwing’s defeat.  Apparently mortality’s left him pretty damn bored these days, because now he had nothing better to do than meddle in battles that were none of his concern.  Problem was – as Baine and Vol’jin were only too quick to point out – at the rate the big lizard was going, he would shore up the opening right quick, and seal us all inside.  At that point, closed in without any further reinforcements from outside, it would just be a matter of time before the mages picked us off.

So, I ordered our forces to fall back.  We cleared out of the city and retreated to the north and west.  We all regrouped just west of the bridge over Dustwallow Bay, overlooking Theramore.  Baine was less than thrilled about how things had gone.  Can’t really blame him, though, considering he wasn’t seeing the big picture.  The foolish tauren thought the siege was all there was to this attack.  For all he could see, this was a loss.

But see, here’s the thing.  When you fight me, there’s never just one piece to the plan I throw at you.  Sure, it would have been nice if the siege had gone perfectly.  But that’s the beauty of it all.  It didn’t have to.

Welcome to fighting Garrosh Hellscream, Theramore.  Evern when I lose, I win.

Sure, you fought off the attack on your gates…  And kept yourselves busy while Drok slipped into the harbor and dropped off a small, elite strike team, who crippled your aerial defenses and recovered our agent Thalen Songweaver.

And sure, you managed to secure that north gate again…  And sealed yourselves in, within the city walls.  With some of the Alliance’s greatest generals, who’d come to aid in the defense.  Closed in together.  Nice and compact.  All in one place.

Boy, it sure would suck for you if I had, say, a giant bomb I could drop on you right now.

Oh, wait.  I do.

Goblin sky galleon.  Blood elf mana bomb.  And the immeasurable power of a handy little relic called the Focusing Iris.

Goodbye, Theramore.

The troops cheered around me as I pointed to our victory and the sky glowed white and purple with the aftershocks of the mana explosion.  Louder and louder, raucous voices all around me.  Some stared in shock, confusion, maybe even…misguided disapproval.  No matter.  Give them time.  They’ll come around.  Eventually, victory wins everyone over.  And we won.

I turned and looked over the bay, holding Gorehowl over my head, taking in the sight of our triumph, of the mark we had left on this world, never to be forgotten.

Deep down, in some tiny, hollow corner, I knew it still wasn’t quite enough.

But it would do.  For a start.

Monday mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 24, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

So yeah, I know I’m just getting this mailbag in under the wire for it to count as Monday, but whatever, it’s hard to get a stable internet connection out here in the fucking swamp.  I’m writing from the field as we make our final march into Dustwallow Marsh.  I figured I haven’t answered any mail for a while, so it might be good to offer up a few messages from the my loyal Horde minions before we but a roflstomping on the humans.

Let’s see what we’ve got…

 

Written on a heavy parchment in multicolored inks, the first impression of this letter is one of chaos. Small sketches of Tauren, prairie wolves, swoops, and other sights of Mulgore clutter the margins, at times encroaching on the text itself. The sketches are obviously done quickly, but with moderate skill; the subjects are clearly recognizable even though the drawings are rough and unfinished. In contrast, the words meander across the page, crooked and shaky, with the occasional backwards letter. Many times a word will be started in one color of ink and finished in another, as if the writer got distracted halfway through the word.

Dear Mistr Warcheif Sir,

I have a question, and the nice ork Mistr U told me to write to you and ask. Hes visiting, and hes been reel nice to me. He talks a lot. Sumtimes I cant ask him anything because he talks too much. But he told me to ask you. He said you would kno. I wanted to ask if brown orks taste diffrent than green orks. Do green orks taste like mint? Are brown orks chocklate? Tauren taste like fur. Why are you brown when the other orks are green? Did you eat too much chocklate? Everyone tells me I cant eat too much chocklate, itll make me sick. Did you get sick from chocklate? Mistr U needs to go now, so I have to stop riting and give this to him.

The letter is signed with a large, inky pawprint, a small sketch of a Tauren druid in cat form, and the shaky name “Taktani,” with every letter in a different color ink.

Um…

Hmm…

Well…

<scratches head>

The FUCK is this?

Okay, so I get that the talkative orc this person is talking about is probably Utvoch… I mean, starts with “U” and talks too much, how many of those could there be?  And I guess this is good since it confirms D&U must still be alive in the restored timeline after…well…you know.  Um…I GUESS that’s a good thing.  Not sure what Utvoch is doing in Mulgore rather than Vindication Hold up in Stonetalon, but whatever.  I guess being killed in the line of duty earns you a little R&R time.

As for you, Taktani…um, no, brown orcs don’t taste like chocolate, and green orcs don’t taste like mint.  Although it IS kind of funny thinking of that, since it would mean, what, Thrall and Aggra are going to have mint chocolate chip babies?  Heh.  But no, we just taste like….orc.  I mean for real, I get enough attention from the ladies as it is, what with me being Warchief and dead sexy and all — last thing I need is for word to start getting around that I taste like chocolate too.  Dude, I won’t be able to walk down the fucking STREET.

Anyway, Taktani, thanks for writing just the same.  Hopefully you’ve outgrown Tauren Kindergarten-Land in Mulgore, and are off doing some bigger-kid stuff.  The Horde can always use more good soldiers, especially on my watch with me looking far and wide for ways to keep the troops busy.  Ashenvale’s looking pretty nice this time of year, if I can make a recommendation.  Just don’t get too much of the damn night elf glitter in your eyes.

 

Hey mon!

I’m writing’ to ya from one of our ships headin’ down to Theramore!  I’m on a boat, mon!

Make sure ya watch it to da end, mon!

–Bob, S.S. Echo Isles

I… he… what the hell IS this, the mailbag of WTF?!

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that this Bob guy managed to dig up a new and creative way to be stupid.  Funny, though, I’m pretty sure that’s the song I’ve been hearing Vol’jin humming to himself for most of the trip down.  Maybe it’s some kind of a troll thing…

 

Hail, Warchief!

Time is short, in more ways than one. I’m writing this for those of us on the road to Theramore.

The hour of assault approaches. There may be some who doubt why we’re here. Why we’re doing this. Why we must. The reason can be given in one word: Taurajo. A hunters’ camp, not a military target, annihilated by marauding Alliance soldiers. Soldiers, I say? I misspoke: they weren’t soldiers, they were bandits. Bandits supplied, equipped, and brought to Kalimdor through one place and one place only.

That is why Theramore must burn.

That is also why I make what may sound like a peculiar request. When we make the final assault, those of us who aren’t compelled otherwise should wear Thunder Bluff’s colors. Not only will this show our solidarity with our Tauren brothers, it will also remind those cowards why we come. To remind them that Justice neither relents, nor sleeps.

For the Horde! And for Taurajo!

–A Concerned Citizen

Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!  Go to it, ACC, lay some truth on them motherfuckers!  I’ve got to say, one thing that’s fucking infuriated me on this trip has been seeing how many of our people HAVEN’T on board with me with the post-Taurajo hate.  Check this out — I even heard a rumor that Baine was telling people that Taurajo was a legitimate military target, and the human commander at least gave the civilians room to flee, and he wonders if we’ll conduct ourselves as honorably.  This is BAINE talking.  BAINE.  THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT?  In what backwards-ass universe am I more pissed off about Camp T than chieftain of the fucking tauren?!

Anyway, I’m definitely encouraging the troops to follow your suggestion, ACC.  And on that note, we’re about to spit up the force for the final march.  I’ll update again soon…can’t wait to see the looks on the humans’ faces.  I’ve got a little surprise planned for them…

Same as it ever was

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taurajo.

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

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

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

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

Fluttered like shimmering white wings.

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

It didn’t help.  It wasn’t enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need something bigger.

We march tomorrow.  Theramore burns.

 

 

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

The parting of ways

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

Dranosh salutes Cairne.  Cairne responds in kind.

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

CAIRNE:  For the Horde.

ALL ASSEMBLED:  For the Horde!

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

CAIRNE:  I understand, Warchief.

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

Dranosh walks off.  Garrosh approaches Cairne.

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

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

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

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

Garrosh nods.

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

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

CAIRNE:  You’ve heard this before?

Garrosh chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Garrosh looks around briefly.

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

DRANOSH:  Overlord Hellscream assures me—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Garrosh looks over at the Windrunner being loaded with supplies.

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

DRANOSH:  How long have you known me?

GARROSH:  Huh?

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

What goes around

Posted in General, Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 4, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

It’s been four days since the Razing of Northwatch Hold.  We’ve been camped here at the base without a sign of Alliance retaliation.  I’ve been mulling over a few possibilities that are still in play for the next step, and giving our troops time to rest and build up their anticipation for the next battle.  Apparently, though, the down time has just given some of the higher-ups time to stir up trouble for themselves.  You know what they say about idle hands.

Malkorok came to me claiming that a batch of the other leaders were planning to gather to talk mutiny.  I didn’t put much stock in it at first.  It’s no secret that Vol’jin and Baine aren’t crazy about my plan, but in the end, they’re loyal to the Horde.  Malkorok is dedicated to his job, and good at it, but sometimes I think he gets a little overzealous looking for conspiracies and enemies behind every shadow.  Maybe it just comes from all that time in the Blackrock clan under Rend.  Anyway, this sounded like one of those overzealous times.

At least that’s what I thought.

Today, Zixx Grindgear – one of the goblin zeppelin captains – came to see me.  Malkorok wasn’t going to let him in originally, but the little guy managed to convince him he had some news I needed to hear.  When Malkorok brought him to see me, Grindgear claimed that Hamuul Runetotem had asked him to attend a meeting with Baine and others to discuss their…“concerns” about the mission.  At this point, it was too much to brush off, so I told Grindgear to go ahead and attend the meeting.  Malkorok and I wouldn’t be far behind him.

When we left to check up on this meeting – along with a detachment of Kor’kron I was hoping I wouldn’t need – I decided to bring Mokvar along as well, to keep a record or whatever we found.

What we found made my blood boil.

 

Garrosh, Malkorok, and Mokvar approach the tree where several Horde figures have gathered around a campfire: Baine Bloodhoof, Vol’jin, Hamuul Runetotem, Frandis Farley, Kelantir Bloodblade, Captain Zixx Grindgear, first mate Blar Xyzzik, Margolag.  Garrosh et al listen from the nearby bushes as the meeting carries on.

BAINE:  …our purpose here tonight is not to lead an insurrection, but to discuss what he has done up until this point and the wisdom – or lack thereof – of his choices.

FRANDIS:  I serve the Horde.  But it seems the Horde does not serve me, or my lady.  We were once human; I myself once lived in the very city of Stormwind, which is certain to come beating down on us at any moment.  The Alliance is surely aware of what has happened by now, and I think Lady Jaina too wise a leader not to know that Theramore could be next in line to fall.  Yet knowing all this, Lady Sylvanas agreed to send aid to the endeavor.  But to what end?  We are gathered!  The Horde has food, supplies, and for those of you whose blood still flows in your veins, I know that blood burns hot for battle.  Why is he waiting?  Each day that passes, his troops become more uncertain.  This is not wisdom.  This is simply…irresponsibility.

KELANTIR:  I agree with Captain Farley.  His lands and ours are vulnerable if the humans decide to retaliate there instead of sending ships to Theramore.  The swifter the strike, the swifter the reward.  I cannot comprehend why Garrosh delays.  More time serves our enemies and harms us.

BLAR:  I don’t know why he did this in the first place.  Trade Prince Gallywix might see coffers overflowing with gold, but all I see are goblins being used as cannon fodder for no real profit.

VOL’JIN:  You all know da trolls be a proud an’ ancient people.  We joined da Horde because Sen’jin had a vision dat T’rall would help us.  Lead us to safety.  An’ he did.  He was a good leader.  Now T’rall be gone, and Garrosh be in his place.  T’rall, he understand da elements, da spirits.  He be da first new shaman his people had seen in a long, long time.  We understand da elements, da spirits too, an’ I tell ya true now, what dat Garrosh did wit’ his dark shaman – it make da spirits angry.  I don’ know how long he be able to control dose molten giants, an’ if he don’t… Well we all saw da Cataclysm.  Dat was da world in pain from Deat’wing.  How much worse is it gonna be if da elements be in pain from da Horde?  Who you tink dey gonna attack?  It be us, mon.

As Vol’jin speaks, Malkorok steps out of the bushes, accompanied by several Kor’kron, and approaches the group purposefully.

MALKOROK:  Yes, it be you who suffer, mon, but not from the elements!

Some of the group reflexively reach for their weapons.

BAINE:  No!  Lay down your weapons!  Lay them down!

MALKOROK:  The bull speaks wisely.  If I see any weapons in the next three heartbeats, I will slay their owners.

Garrosh steps into the assembly.

GARROSH:  I did not believe it…

The Kor’kron guards circle around the group.

I had word of your little meeting…

Garrosh looks to Zixx Grindgear and nods; Zixx goes to Garrosh and stands uncomfortably behind him.

I came to observe, with my own eyes and ears, what Malkorok said was true.

BAINE:  If you saw and heard it all, then you know that this was not treachery.  No one sought to overthrow you.  No one here chanted “Death to Garrosh.”  What was said here was said out of concern for the Horde, which we are all devoted to.

MALKOROK:  To question the Horde’s Warchief is to question the Horde.

BAINE:  It does so only if, in your mind, two plus two equals five.  Our concerns are valid, Warchief.  Many of us have sought audiences with you so that we might say these things to your face, so what we might have answers or explanations.  The only reason we are gathered here tonight is because you would not see us!

GARROSH:  I do not need to answer to you, tauren.  Or you, troll.  You are not are not not noitarud are setutitsnoc not troll hcihw not siht si not you ti stnemom you tsap fo yromem eht fo gnileef all tneserp eht ot noitidda eht the tuohtiw etats a fo noitaunitnoc on dna scourges yromem tuohtiw ssensuoicsnoc of on si ereht ecnis tnemom yreve war egnahc ton seod hcihw elpmis revewoh dnim fo etats on si ereht the taht noitcejbo the eht not the epacse not tonnac not i not not the not the one we…

[Blinks and shakes his head, then looks around briefly and lets out a frustrated sigh.]

…that is…not the ones we need to worry about.

DRANOSH

True enough.  Still, if they’re backing up and converging in the Deadwind Pass, I’d…Mokvar, are you taking notes?

MOKVAR

[Looks up while frantically writing.]

Hmm?  Wha…oh.  Oh, no, I’m…I mean…maybe?

DRANOSH

[Chuckles.]

Adelene’s official transcript not good enough for you?  And actually, when did you become a scribe in the first place?

MOKVAR

Oh…um…well…  Night classes?

GARROSH

Uh, yeah…I, um, kind of encouraged him to expand his interests.

MOKVAR

Under pain of…well, pain.

DRANOSH

Wait, what?

GARROSH

Never mind.

MOKVAR

Yeah, so, um, how about them demons?

DRANOSH

[Perks an eyebrow but turns back to Zaela.]

Right…so… If they are converging on Deadwind, I’d like to have an idea of what they’re doing.

ZAELA

Do you want to send a scouting party to gather more intel?

DRANOSH

Maybe something that doesn’t put our people so much in harm’s way.  I’m wondering if some of our warlocks could determine anything about the demons’ activity.

EITRIGG

I can ask around in the Cleft of Shadows and see if Neeru Fireblade and the others think they can do anything.

DRANOSH

Good enough for a start.

GARROSH

What’s the state of the Silvermoon evacuation?

ZAELA

The last few gunships should be leaving by the end of the day.

EITRIGG

We’re sure the magic barrier around Quel’Danas will hold?

DRANOSH

It should.  Those incantations patched together the strongest warding magics the Sha’tari, Argent Crusade, and Kirin Tor have to offer.

MAGATHA

Basically, if they don’t hold, there likely wasn’t anything we could have set in place that would.

ZAELA

Once the last of the Silvermoon contingent gets here, we can redeploy as need be around Kalimdor or Northrend.

GARROSH

By the way, speaking of which, who was that guy leading the blood elf regiments at Elrendar?  That guy was pretty badass – I saw him make short work of a TON of those Scourge.

DRANOSH

You mean Lor’themar?

GARROSH

Is that his name?  Sounds familiar.  Who is he?

DRANOSH

Um, he’s Regent-Lord of Quel’thalas.

GARROSH

…Oh?

MOKVAR

Yeah, uh, leader of the blood elves?

GARROSH

Oh, don’t YOU start acting like you always remember—

MOKVAR

Ahem.

GARROSH

Uh, yeah, never mind.  Anyway, that guy bears watching for other missions, is all I’m saying.

ZAELA

You’ll have the chance to work with him again soon enough.  He and Liadrin will be arriving on the last gunship, once they’ve seen that the last of the evacuees are out.

DRANOSH

I assume Lady Liadrin will want to rejoin the other Argent forces in Northrend.

ZAELA

I would think so.

EITRIGG

We’ve also had a request from Lady Proudmoore for supplementary forces to be sent to Theramore.

GARROSH

[Bristles briefly.]

Might…uh…that might be a good spot for some of the incoming Silvermoon troops…

DRANOSH

Agreed.

MAGATHA

Perhaps a combined detachment of some of the incoming blood elves and a platoon or two of our troops from somewhere like Feralas?

GARROSH

[Glaring at Magatha.]

Since when are you an expert on troop deployment?

MAGATHA

I’m not, certainly.  I merely suppose it might be beneficial to send support from multiple quarters of the Horde.

EITRIGG

It would be a positive gesture diplomatically…

MAGATHA

And I only suggest Feralas because, at present, there’s very little activity there, so we could likely spare the personnel.

GARROSH

I’d just as soon not weaken any of our stable positions is all, though.

DRANOSH

It’s worth considering, but I would agree with Garrosh – if we’re going to divert any Kalimdor units, it might be a better plan to send a regiment or two from Camp Taurajo.

[Garrosh glances to Mokvar, smiling faintly.]

Speaking of which, Garrosh, while we’re talking about sending support to Theramore, I want to get your opinion.  I’ve been thinking it would be a good idea to deploy a standing officer for our forces in Theramore, to provide military advice and represent the Horde in command decisions.

GARROSH

Makes sense.

DRANOSH

I’m considering General Krom’gar.  You’ve worked with him before, haven’t you?  What do you think?

GARROSH

[Glances uneasily at Mokvar.]

Oh… Umm…

DRANOSH

Is something wrong?

GARROSH

Well…to tell the truth… Krom’gar’s a good soldier and all, but…I’m not sure he’s someone I would want to point to and say “This guy represents the Horde.”  I guess you might say he has some…temperament issues.

DRANOSH

[Smirking.]

Pot, kettle?

GARROSH

[Grinning.]

Hey, you asked.

DRANOSH

Hmm.  Well I’ll have a look at a few other options.  In the meantime…do we have any other business, Warlord?

ZAELA

That covers all the scouting reports, Warchief.

DRANOSH

In that case, I think that’s meeting adjourned.

[Eitrigg and Zaela start gathering documents from the conference table.]

MAGATHA

Warchief, a minor question if I may?

DRANOSH

What is it, Magatha?

MAGATHA

As we’re done here, might I make use of the war room for a brief meeting with General Grebo?

[Garrosh bristles at the name and glares at Magatha.]

I have an appointment with him momentarily, and, not knowing how long our meeting would run today, asked him to meet me here.

DRANOSH

That’s fine, Magatha.  I need to make a few stops around Orgrimmar anyway.

[Grins as he walks to the door.]

No crazy parties while I’m out.

MAGATHA

Thank you, Warchief.  Good day.

Dranosh’s scribe’s record stops here, so time to kick it back over to Mokvar…

Dranosh exits the Grommash Hold war room, accompanied by Eitrigg and scribe Adelene Sunlace.  Warlord Zaela follows close behind.

GARROSH:  <calling after the others>  You all go on, I’ll catch up in a minute.  I just need to talk to Mokvar about something for a minute.

MAGATHA:  I can go if you wish, Overlord.  Would you prefer privacy?

Magatha begins to walk past Garrosh, heading toward the door.

GARROSH:  Actually, some privacy would definitely be a good thing.

As Magatha passes, Garrosh suddenly strikes her with his fist, knocking her to the ground.  She cries out as she falls, then looks around in confusion.

MAGATHA:  What— Overlord, what is it?

Garrosh grabs her by her cloak and flings her across the room, away from the door.

GARROSH:  What is it?  Oh, oh, Magatha, I wouldn’t even know where to start…

Garrosh walks past Magatha – striking her down again as he passes – and toward the platform on which the Warchief’s chair stands.

GARROSH:  <looking to Mokvar from the Warchief’s seat>  Only a couple things badly out of place in this world, wouldn’t you say?

Garrosh reaches above the Warchief’s seat and pulls Gorehowl from the wall, where it hangs on display in honor of Grom Hellscream.  Garrosh turns and walks back toward Magatha, wielding the axe.

MAGATHA:  Overlord!  Garrosh!  You mustn’t!  I— I— I haven’t done anything!

GARROSH:  And you never will.

Garrosh swings Gorehowl down furiously, slashing Magatha’s head from her body.

MOKVAR:  Garrosh…you…

GARROSH:  Is this the part where you try to tell me this one was innocent?  Really?

MOKVAR:  No… I mean… I just…

Footsteps come from the entrance to the war room.  Seconds later, General Grebo enters and immediately gawks at the sight of Magatha’s headless body across the room.

GREBO:  <running over to the body>  What— what happened here?  What have you done?

GARROSH:  It’s funny you should ask, Grebo…

Garrosh eyes Grebo for a moment, then walks up to him and pushes Gorehowl into his hands.

What we’ve done…is hear a commotion in here, then come back to find you standing over what’s left of Magatha Grimtotem with the bloody axe still in your hands.  <looks back at Mokvar>  Isn’t that right, Mokvar?

GREBO:  Wh-what?!

GARROSH:  Isn’t it, Mokvar?

MOKVAR:  <nods slowly>  That’s the way I remember it.

GREBO:  But…I…Overlord, you…

GARROSH:  And to think…you just helped yourself to Gorehowl to use as the murder weapon…

Garrosh stands eye to eye with Grebo, tapping on Gorehowl with one finger.

That axe belonged to my father, you know.  Did you know that, Grebo?

GREBO:  <looking back and forth, panicked, between Garrosh, Mokvar, and Gorehowl>  But I…sir, you just…I don’t…

GARROSH:  And I’ll be DAMNED before I let someone stroll in and tarnish my family’s honor like that, Grebo.

Garrosh grabs Gorehowl and yanks it back out of Grebo’s hands.

My mother taught me that.

GREBO:  Garrosh…Overlord…you can’t possibly be serious—

MOKVAR:  Is he resisting arrest?  Sounds to me like he’s maybe resisting arrest.

GARROSH:  You know, I think you may be right.  <to Grebo>  Please resist arrest.  Please.

 

On the down side, Grebo didn’t put up much more of an argument.  Probably because he was too baffled to come up with much more to say, but whatever.  I don’t need to know the details from this world.  The fact that he had SOMETHING going on with Magatha, considering he was on the take in our reality, is all I needed to hear.

We handed him over to Dranosh traight away.  I thought at least THEN he would have tried to put up an argument, but no.  HE just kept quiet – resigned.  I suppose I can’t blame him.  He knew as well as I did – Dranosh didn’t need to hear any more than the account Mokvar and I gave him.  What chance was there he would ever listen to the likes of Grebo over me?

It didn’t take long to be settled.  Dranosh sentenced Grebo sentenced Grebo Grebo ytienatnatsni sentenced ylno grebo settled tub grebo noitarud on grebo dranosh eb dluow dranosh ereht tneserp eht otni tsap eht fo lavivrus siht tuohtiw all redlo worg ew sa su dniheb gard ew daol reivaeh llits dna reivaeh eht the ytilauq fo egnahc launitnoc sti yb gniwohs yldnuoforp scourges erom ro tsap eht fo egami gniworg ylsselesaec eht mrof tcnitsid of a ni ti nihtiw gniniatnoc rehtie tneserp eht tneserp war eht otni tsap eht sgnolorp hcihw yromem a fo two efil suounitnoc two eht phase two si phase noitarud phase renni phase phase two phase two is ready to go, on my go-ahead.  We should be poised for a great victory, and all the while all I hear are complaints and objections.  One outburst of dissent after another, keeping Malkorok a dozen times busier than I ever thought he would need to be.

And you know, here’s the thing.  I never asked for this job.  Thrall appointed me as Warchief in his place because he thought I represented the best option for the Horde, and since then I’ve done everything I could think to do to secure our future and assure our rightful place in the world – in a position of strength.  People forget that ever since the Burning Legion came to Draenor, our people have gone from one brand of slavery to another – to the demons, to the blood haze, to the humans.  Never again.  I’ve tried to guarantee that our people would never again call someone or something else master.  If the humans and elves need to be put in their place in the process, so be it.  If the humans end up paying for some of what they’ve done to our kind, all the better.

And yet all I hear, over and over, are the objections.  Try to secure our place in Kalimdor, and it’s “Garrosh, you mustn’t!”  Go to war with the ENEMY WE ARE SUPPOSEDLY AT WAR WITH, and hear nothing but “Oh Garrosh, how could you?”  You know, maybe Dranosh was on to something in that other world.  As much as it sickens me to imagine working with the humans – “Sure, you held our fathers in internment camps and almost broke our entire civilization, but sure, no hard feelings!” – maybe it’s just less of a damn headache.

And you know what?  Who’s to say that this timeline – the world we’re in now – is the one that was supposed to happen?

All I know is that I look around in that world, and see people still alive who deserve to be, and people dead who deserve the same.  Dranosh and Cairne, and Patrick Faranell and the family he should have had the chance to have.  Magatha.  Grebo.  No goddamn war for everyone to bitch and moan about, and someone else in this job to listen to the bitching rather than me.  Someone BETTER at it than me.

But this world, the one that’s supposed to be the right one?  Everything is backwards.  Upside down.  Nothing is the way it should be.  So you know what?  Bring on the other world.  Let it bleed on in.  Soridormi said Faranell’s become a shatter point in time?  Then bring him here so I can kick the cracks and make them crack faster.  Sure, we’ll have to find something to do for Faranell.  We can’t leave him doomed to spend forever bouncing around in time.  But we WILL find something.  We always do – we find ourselves in these situations, and agonize and torment ourselves until we find that magic escape clause.  We’ll save him somehow.

But this world we’re in now – this one is the nightmare.  A little longer, and we’ll all finally be able to wake up.

And all I have to do is sit here and do nothing.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,021 other followers