Archive for mylune

Attack of the petting zoo

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

HAMUUL:  Very peculiar…

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

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

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

HAMUUL:  Indeed.

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

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

GARROSH:  Wait – the hell?

HAMUUL:  Greetings, Shan’do.

MALFURION:  A pleasure as always, Hamuul.

GARROSH:  What is HE doing here?

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

GARROSH:  Uh, yeah, LITERALLY Allies.

MALFURION:  <nods to Garrosh>  Warchief.

GARROSH:  <nods back>  Antlers.

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

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

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

MALFURION:  Good enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HAMUUL:  You don’t have to.

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

HAMUUL:  If you wish.

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

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

MALFURION:  Yes, and?

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

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

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

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

HAMUULHush, Malfurion!

MALFURION:  …

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

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

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

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

MYLUNE:  Oh look at all the adorable bunnies!

HAMUUL:  Actually…

GARROSH:  You…didn’t.

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

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

GARROSH:  After last time?  Really?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GARROSH:  Point.

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

MOKVAR:  You’ve met Varian, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HAMUUL:  Mmhmm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GARROSH:  So…that was unexpected.

HAMUUL:  You might think.

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

HAMUUL:  I had her for August, myself.

MALFURION:  Ah, pity.  So close.

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

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

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

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

MALFURION:  And here we go.

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

GARROSH:  Hang on, did she—

HAMUUL:  Just don’t.

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

MYLUNE:  No, no, nooo…

MALFURION:  <to Hamuul>  Shall we?

HAMUUL:  We may as well.

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

MALFURION:  There, there…

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

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

MALFURION:  Probably for the best.

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

 

Okay, so, um…yeah.

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

Actually, I think I need several.

Actually, I think I need a brewery.

Back later.

 

Go ahead.  Make her day.

“What are you lookin’ at?”

Thunderlord Stronghold

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

While I’m here in Outland, I figured I would make a few stops and see what’s been going on out here since I left for Azeroth.  Today I flew up to Thunderlord Stronghold in Blade’s Edge Mountains today and paid a visit to Rexxar.  I knew Rexxar mostly by reputation before he moved out here years ago, and we ended up meeting briefly a couple times before I wound up making the move to Azeroth to take charge of the Northrend campaign.  He remembered me well enough, although it would be nice if I could maybe meet him at some point and have him refer to me some way other than “Oh yeah, Grom’s kid.”

I tried floating the idea of him coming back to Orgrimmar with me and taking a position as an advisor, but he wasn’t interested in leaving Blade’s Edge or getting himself tangled up in politics.  Can’t really blame him on that one.  I think he told Thrall the same once before, which I can respect, although it’s kind of a waste for as big a badass as him to just be hanging out here in the middle of nowhere.

Mostly, though, we ended up talking animals.  Pretty much as soon as I got there, Rexxar’s bear Misha took a liking to Mortimer, and the two of them spent most of the day chasing each other around playing.  Which got Rexxar and I talking about them, and if you know people who have pets – or are one yourself – you know what happens when you get two pet people together.  Worse than people with kids…not least of all because people who have kids don’t really give a shit about what the other people have to say about theirs.  They mostly just nod politely until it’s their turn to talk about their own little snot-nose.  Pet people, though, they just eat up each other’s stories, and they’ll yammer on all day if you let them.  Poor Gor’drek and Nekthar made themselves pretty scarce pretty fast.

Funny story, though – turns out, while Rexxar was still living in Kalimdor and wandering around in Feralas and Desolace, somehow or other he ran into that forest nymph Mylune.  Which is never a good thing when you’re traveling with a furry animal.  So…I’m sure you can fill in this part…she right off started getting all grabby and huggy with Misha.  But here’s where it gets great – Misha would have none of that shit, and after she went and ignored a “You might not want to do that” from Rexxar, the bear fucking MAULED her.  HAH!  So we had a good old time comparing fail-notes on that nutjob.

Also talked a little to Tor’chunk Twoclaws (yeah, that really is the dude’s name, and yeah, I feel for him too) (*chortle*), who tells me the ogre troubles they used to have up there have quieted down a lot the last couple years.  Seeing as we always had all kinds of headaches with the ogres down in Nagrand, I’m always kind of interested in how people in other areas have been getting on with the fat fuckers.  According to Tor’chunk (honestly, not trying to be mean, but I just can’t get past that name), the Bladespire ogres up there recognized a new king a ways back – something about someone gaining the blessing of Ogri’la, which the Bladespires talk about like some mysterious, mystical place even though it’s right there on the fucking maps.  Since then they seem to have calmed down a lot.  I’m kind of curious about this, to tell you the truth, so I might have to swing by and introduce myself to this new king guy, one leader to another.  Because I’m nothing if not a smooth diplomat.

 

 

[Header image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks.  Click here to see the souped-up Postcard version!]

Monday Mailbag

Posted in Mailbag with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 16, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

mail26

Don’t forget to make your last-minute suggestions for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge this week!  The last installment was the Sylvanas poem from Friday, so be sure to put your ideas in the comments there.  In the meantime, let’s have a look at this week’s mail…

 

Dear Warchief,

Since you’ve shown an interest in this week’s Noblegarden activities, I thought you might want to know about some rather…strange events going on around them.  Down here in Bloodhoof Village, many of us have been engaging in the traditional egg hunts.  As you probably already know, some of those eggs are magical, and when gathered they spawn several bunnies.  So fairly early on in the holiday season, the village ends up being filled with dozens of these little rabbits, hopping around all over the place and going about their business.

That much is fine, it’s part of the holiday and we don’t mind the rabbits at all.  The problem is that this year, we’re having an extra, unexpected guest whom we weren’t expecting.  A few days into Noblegarden, the forest nymph Mylune, whom I think you’ve met, showed up unannounced and…well…just started going nuts.  Not violent nuts or anything, she just saw all the bunnies and flipped.  She’s been scampering around the village hugging as many rabbits as she can herd together, talking baby talk to them, and squealing on and on every time she sees more of them.

She’s not bothering anyone, really, just minding her own bunny-hugging business, and I can’t say she’s doing any harm.  We tauren generally are on good terms with the dryads, so I don’t think we’re going to have any real trouble with her.  It’s just…really weird.  So I thought you might want to know what was happening.

–Maur Raincaller, Bloodhoof Village

Huh.  Well, Maur, as long as she’s not actually causing any real problems, this might be one that we just let sit.  Not to stick you guys with her charming company down there in Bloodhoof Village, but honestly?  After last time, I’m not going anywhere near that chick.  You should be fine, the holiday’s over now so she’ll probably go home soon enough, just make sure your newbie druids down there don’t try shifting into animal forms while she’s around.  And you might want to tell any hunters you’ve got to keep their distance if they have pets.  Oh and also, it might be a little inconvenient, I know, but you might want to give your windrider master a day or two off and just close down the flight path.  I know from experience the wyverns probably aren’t going to get a lot done while she’s around, and your flight master will probably appreciate being spared the headaches.  And possible bosom-clasp bruises.

 

Hey mon,

How come people always be makin’ a big deal about dese death knights?  I be pwnin’ dem down here in de Echo Isles ever since dey started seein’ dey trainers here.

–Bob, Echo Isles

Um, okay, first of all, idiot, there ARE no death knight trainers in the Echo Isles.  There aren’t any baby death knights running around the junior league training areas like Echo Isles or Razor Hill or whatever.  Because – NEWS FLASH, dimwit – all the death knights in the Horde are former Knights of the Ebon Blade, who were turned into death knights by Arthas back in the day, so the ONLY place they can train is in their own damn floaty city out in the Eastern Plaguelands.  Which you would KNOW if you didn’t have your head jammed so far up your ass that you don’t have any fucking idea what’s going on AROUND you.

Which brings me to my next point.  Dude, what the fuck is up with you?  Seriously.  Every few weeks I get some letter from you where you’re asking about some shit that absolutely anybody with a brain already knows, and half the time you’ve got something cringe-inducingly WRONG, so like, really, what’s your deal?  Did you just get dropped on your head like eight thousand times?  Did you, Dontrag, and Utvoch draw straws to see who got how much of the one brain you’ve got between you all, only you wound up with nothing because you lost focus and stuck your straws in your nose and started cracking yourself up making walrus noises?  Or did you put on a bear suit for who the fuck knows what reason, then made the bad decision to drop by Hyjal, and next thing you knew that aforementioned prancy head case Mylune ran up and started squeezing you till she literally made you shit your brain right out?  Because I’m really trying to figure you out, and I’m not coming up with much of anything other than something like that.

I tell you, I give Vol’jin a lot of crap, but spirits help him if this is the kind of wall-to-wall hired help he’s got to choose from down there.

 

Dear Garrosh,

I’m not quite sure how to begin, or even if you would want to hear from me.  I’m sorry that I haven’t tried to contact you until now.  I hope that in the end you’ll understand why.

When the red pox tore through our people in Nagrand, you and I were both afflicted, like most of the rest of the Mag’har.  It was probably so long ago that you barely even remember it, if you do at all.  I remember it well.  I remember how sick you became.  But I knew you would make it through.  Even then, you were strong.  You were always so strong.

Eventually the healers of Garadar began to cure our people of the red pox.  Bit by bit, our little forgotten village began to recover.  My symptoms, though, continued undiminished, no matter what our shamans did.  Worse yet, in a few cases, those who had been cured found themselves reinfected after being around me, only this time with symptoms that were far more severe, and resisted all attempts at treatment.  Almost without exception, they died.

I, on the other hand, lived on, suffering but alive, as if the pox and I were locked in a stalemate: me too strong to die, the disease too strong to fade.  The shamans decided that somehow I had become a carrier for a far more virulent strain of that hateful disease.

In time, Garadar recovered, and I was the only one left, with no end to the pox in sight.  More and more, those who came close to me found themselves infected.  And more and more quickly, those who fell infected would die.

In time I decided that I could not remain a burden to our people.  I exiled myself from the Mag’har, taking up shelter in a small hovel hidden away in the mountains near the Ancestral Grounds.  When time and illness finally took me, I thought, at least I would be close to our sacred place.  Perhaps the spirits would help guide me to the next life.

I disappeared quietly one night.  At my urging, Greatmother Geyah told the village that the pox had finally taken me.  In the eyes of Garadar, I had died.  Only a handful of the elders knew the truth.

Years passed.  The pox carried on unabated.  So did I.  All the while, I watched from afar as best I could.  I watched as the demons’ hold on our once-beautiful world waned.  I watched as the Mag’har slowly regathered themselves.  And I watched you, Garrosh.  I watched you grow up, strong as you always were, a man before your years, denied the luxury of a childhood.  And I watched you live in a self-made purgatory forged of your father’s sins.

It broke my heart.

Years more passed, and you left Draenor to pursue a new life.  A better life, I prayed.

Then, not long ago, a group of healers found me in my mountain refuge.  I did not know them, and their garments were of a make unfamiliar to me.  They were not of the Mag’har, some not even orcs.  I do not know how they knew to find me, but they claimed to have new medicines from the world the orcs had taken up as their new home.  While they could not offer a cure, they claimed they could contain the pox enough to prevent its spread.  Under their treatment, the disease would no longer be airborne, only contagious by contact.  A small comfort, but now at least, they said, the pain of the disease need not be compounded by the misery of solitude.

In time, I decided to risk revealing myself.  I returned to Garadar, to the welcoming embrace of Greatmother Geyah.

In the days since my return, she has updated me on much that has transpired in my absence.  The war, the internment, the demise of Mannoroth and the lifting of the blood haze.  But most of all she told me of you.  Strong and proud.  A hero of a faraway war, fought against the icy talons of death itself.  A leader of men, and now, Warchief of our people.

I do not wish anything from you, Garrosh.  I have decided to reach out to you now only that you might finally know the truth, and know that I am so very, very proud of you.  Do honor to our people and lead them well.  As I always have, in this life or the next, I will be watching over you.

Love always, my Garrosh,

–Lakkara, Nagrand

Um…

<blink>

<stare>

…Mom?

Orc Lemon Squares

Posted in EPIC VERSE with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 10, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

cake

Today’s entry for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge!  This one is inspired by a repeated suggestion from the last few days, involving my Greatmother’s famous (previously secret) recipe, and the meddling tree who publicized it and forced me to institute whole new culinary policies a while back.  Remember to make suggestions for next time in your comments!

 

Edenvale.

Edenvale –
She’s a tree.

Edenvale –
Don’t you see?
Edenvale’s a tree,
I see.

Edenvale,
She had a scare –
She saw Garrosh
Over there.

“Oh no!  Garrosh!”
Cried the tree.
“Please don’t kill me!
Let me be!

I’m your friend!
Yes!  I swear!
Please don’t kill me,
Garrosh-There!”

“Don’t you fret
Your sappy head!
I won’t kill you,”
Garrosh said.

“No?  You won’t?”
“Oh no,” he said.
“Or you already
Would be dead!”

“Oh,” she said,
The silly tree.
“Then, what do you want
With me?”

He came closer,
Garrosh-There.
And he said,
“I’m here to share.”

“Here to share,
Garrosh-There?”
“Here to share,”
Said Garrosh-There.

“Are you okay?”
Asked the tree.
“That doesn’t sound like you,”
Said she.

“Yeah, I know.
It kind of sucks.
But I figure,
What the fuck.

Greatmother says
I should share –
I should share
Her lemon squares.

So since Greatmother
Says to share,
I will try,”
Said Garrosh-There.

“So,” he said,
And gave a glare,
“Would you like
Some lemon squares?”

Edenvale looked nervous,
True.
She didn’t know
Quite what to do.

“Oh,” she said,
And held her nose.
“I really don’t want
To impose.”

“No, it’s fine,
They must be eaten.
Here, try one.
Or you’ll get beaten.”

“No, that’s okay,
None for me.”
“What’s the problem,
Stupid tree?”

“Well,” she said
To Garrosh-There.
“Well,” she said,
And looked quite scared.

“I do not like
Orc lemon squares.
I do not like them,
Garrosh-There.”

“Would you like them
Here or there?”

“I would not like them
Here or there.
I would not like them
Anywhere.
I do not like
Orc lemon squares.
I do not like them,
Garrosh-There.”

“Would you like them
In your home?
Would you like them
With a gnome?”

“I would not like them
In my home.
I would not like them
With a gnome.
I do not like them
Here or there.
I do not like them
Anywhere.
I do not like
Orc lemon squares.
I do not like them,
Garrosh-There.”

“Would you eat them
On a boat?
With a Naaru
Or space-goat?”

“I would not eat them
On a boat.
I’d simply give them
To the goat.
I do not want them
In my home.
I will not try them
With a gnome.
I do not want them
Here or there.
I do not want them
Anywhere.
I just don’t like
Orc lemon squares.
I just don’t like them,
Garrosh-There!”

“Would you, could you,
Might, may, will,
Try them up
In Teldrassil?”

“I would not, could not eat them there!
In Teldrassil, or anywhere!
I do not want them on a boat.
I will not share with some space-goat.
I do not want them in my home.
I do not want them with a gnome.
I do not want them here or there,
I do not want them anywhere!
I do not like orc lemon squares!
I do not like them, Garrosh-There!”

“How about
A doggy bag?
Served by Utvoch
And Dontrag?”

“Enough already!”
Cried the tree.
“Garrosh-There,
You let me be!”

“Would you try them
On the moon?
With Cenarius
And Mylune?”

“No, I would not
On the moon!
Even if they brought
Elune!”

“Would you try them,
Just once, ever,
Up amid
The Twisted Nether?”

“No! No! Not in the Nether!
I do not want to try them, ever!
Not in a bag! Not on the moon!
Not with Dontrag or with Mylune!
Not on a boat! Not in my home!
Not with a goat! Not with a gnome!
I will not try them here or there!
I do not want them ANYWHERE!
I do not like orc lemon squares!
I just don’t like them, Garrosh-There!”

“You don’t like them.
So you say.
Try them! Try them
And you may.
Try them and you may,
I say.”

“Garrosh, dammit!
Fine, at last.
I’ll try them –
Just get off my ass.

Say…
I like orc lemon squares!
I do! I like them, Garrosh-There!
And I would eat them in my home!
And I would eat them with a gnome!
And I would have them on a boat,
And I would share with a space-goat!
I would eat them to my fill
All the way to Teldrassil!

I would take a doggy bag
(But spare me Utvoch and Dontrag)!
I would eat them on the moon,
With Cenarius and Mylune!
Yes, I will eat them here and there!
Oh, I would eat them anywhere!

I do so love
Orc lemon squares!
Thank you,
Thank you,
Garrosh-There.”

“See, I told you,”
Garrosh said.
“Plus you’re lucky
You’re not dead.”

“They’re so good!
So good, I say!
I might post them!
Yes I may!
I’ll post them on my blog,
I say!”

“Hold on a minute,
Silly tree.
That’s my Greatmother’s
Recipe.
Her recipe,
You silly tree.
We keep it
In the family!”

“But oh, they’re so good,
Garrosh-There!
They’re just too yummy
Not to share!
I’m sure your Greatmother
Won’t care!
I’ll spread her secret
Everywhere!

Now don’t get mad,
Garrosh! Relax!”

But he had gone
To get his axe.

 

EPIC VERSE!

Songs of Innocence and XP

Posted in EPIC VERSE with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 3, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

mylune3

My first product of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge!  I ended up deciding that this entry would work better as TWO poems working as a set, rather than one. I’ll be working on something new for Thursday, so be sure to give me suggestions in the comments to this post (and obviously feel free to leave actual COMMENT comments too).  So, here we go…

 

The Dryad

Dryad girl, who made thee?
Do you know who made thee?
Who made thee such damaged goods,
Hugging bunnies in the woods?
Made thee DEHTA’s poster girl,
Snuggling puppies till I hurl?
Filled your head with flowers and fluff,
Blind to when enough’s enough;
Dryad girl, who made thee?
Do you know who made thee?

Dryad girl, I’ll tell thee;
Sister, let me tell thee,
Whosoever, ’twas a dick
Who beat you with that nutjob stick.
Took your love of creatures, heaven,
Dialed it right up to eleven;
Firing my exasperation.
With bosom-clasped concatenation.
Dryad girl, release me.
Shut up and release me.

 

The Dyad

Dontrag!  Utvoch!  Deadly dumb,
Endless yapping flapping gums:
What misguided hand or eye
Could frame thy dim stupidity?

By whose diagrams were cast
Your dingy minds, always half-assed?
In what furnace of the dull
Was forged the cogwheels in your skulls?

Whose confounded bright idea
To give you verbal diarrhea?
Strength of thought and length of verse:
That relation is inverse.

Edgewise word was never got,
And no clue have e’er you bought.
Faithful, true, and proud to serve;
But oh the cost: my final nerve.

Rock and hard place, woe the choice
Between yours and the dryad’s voice.
Dammit, I might go with hooves:
The dryad has, but you are boobs.

Dontrag!  Utvoch!  Deadly dumb!
Headaches rise like pounding drums.
What misguided hand or eye
Would hire thy dim stupidity?

 

EPIC VERSE!

Of wyverns and pine cones

Posted in General, Transcripts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 29, 2012 by Garrosh Hellscream

Just dropped by the Sanctuary of Malorne on my way around Mount Hyjal and paid a visit to Hamuul Runetotem, who’s overseeing the reforestation efforts there.  I brought a few men with me for the trip, including Mokvar, so, y’know, transcript incoming…

 

GARROSH:  Hamuul, I’m glad you’re doing better these days.

HAMUUL:  As compared to being burned alive, or as compared to crawling out from under a pile of my friends’ corpses in a mass grave?

GARROSH:  Um…yes?

HAMUUL:  I’ve been worse.

GARROSH:  Uh…yeah.  So while I’m here, I wanted to—

Mylune, an overly energetic dryad, scampers in and starts hugging Mortimer frantically.  Mortimer appears generally confused but doesn’t put up much of a fight.

MYLUNE:  Ohhhhhhhh aren’t you just the cutest thing?!  You’re a good wittle wyvern, aren’t you?  Yes you are!  Yes you are!  Ohhhhhhhh you’re so precious!

GARROSH:  Um, what’s this?

HAMUUL:  That’s Mylune, one of the Guardians.  She’s been helping with the recovery up at the Grove of Aessina and here at the Regrowth…

MYLUNE:  So furry and handsome and such a good boy!  Yes you are!  You are!  Oh yes you are, Mr. Wyvern…

GARROSH:  Is she always like this?

MYLUNE:  OOH!  Now don’t be like that, Mr. Bitey-Pants, you know Autie Luney just want to wuv you!  Like this!

She squeezes her arms around Mortimer extra tight, despite his growing efforts to pull away.

HAMUUL:  <long pause>  Yes.

GARROSH:  Oh.

HAMUUL:  Mmhmm.

GARROSH:  Well then.

MYLUNE:  …with your scruffy-wuffy mane and your handsome coat and – OOH, what big teeth you have, now I told you, Mr. Wyvern…

GARROSH:  Look, if you have to drive him bonkers, could you at least just call him by his actual name and not this Mr. Wyvern crap?

MYLUNE:  <squeezing Mortimer giddily>  Oooooh, what’s his name?

GARROSH:  His name is Mortimer, and—

MYLUNE:  <holding Mortimer by his face and wiggling it side to side>  Oh that’s a funny name, isn’t it Mr. Mortimer?  Isn’t it?  <nodding Mortimer’s head in her hands>  Yes it is!  Yes it is!

GARROSH:  Can you STOP that?  And what the hell’s wrong with his name?

MYLUNE:  Ohhh… <eyes go creepily wide>  Is he your wyvern, Mr. Warchief?

GARROSH:  Yes, why do you—OOF!

In one rapid motion, Mylune releases Mortimer, grabs Garrosh, and clasps him to her bosom, swaying side to side energetically.

MYLUNE:  Ohhhh aren’t wyverns just that most wonderful, flappytastical creatures?!

GARROSH:  <wriggling around to try to pull away, without much success>  THE FUCK is your problem?!

MYLUNE:  Such beautiful, wonderful, majestic creatures of the sky!  <eyes glistening happily>  They’re just so magnificent!  And you have one of your very own!

GARROSH:  Uh, Mokvar, a little help here?

MOKVAR:  Too busy writing, boss.

GARROSH:  DAMMIT, MOKVAR!

MYLUNE:  <still swaying side to side with Garrosh clasped to her bosom>  Oh I wish I had a wyvern friend of my very own!  I would hug and pet him and squeeze him and love him and I would call him George!

GARROSH:  The fuck, you’re giving him shit for “Mortimer,” but apparently “George” is—

MYLUNE:  Ohhhhhh and I would love him so much!  You’re so so lucky to have a wyvern friend of your very very own, Mr. Orc!

Mylune keeps Garrosh pressed against her with one arm while grabbing Mortimer again with the other, and pulls the wyvern to her despite its plaintive yelps.

MYLUNE:  The very very bestest of furry flappy friends!  It’s just so beautiful!

GARROSH:  <finally pulls out of her grip>  What. THE FUCK.  Is your DAMAGE?  And will you STOP squeezing him like that, before you squish his head or something?  He’s already kind of skittish from getting beaten as it is!

MYLUNE:  <stares at Garrosh with eyes welling up with tears>  He…he was beaten?

GARROSH:  <exasperated sigh>  Yeah, he was, and he was stuck on the long haul from Silithus to Winterspring before I—

MYLUNE:  Ohhhhhhh that poor sweet fuzzy growly thing, you mean he’s a rescue wyvern too?!

GARROSH:  I…Well so to speak, now that you mention it there were a couple times in Stonetalon and then in Twilight High—GAH!!!

With a sudden, gleeful squeal, Mylune releases Mortimer and grabs Garrosh with both hands, pulling him to her and planting a big, loud kiss on him before hugging him tightly.

MYLUNEOh thank you, Mr. Orc!  Thank for saving the poor dear sweet beautiful wyvern from harm!  So so much!  Oh it makes me so happy!

GARROSH:  <gasping and spitting>  THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, LADY?!  And why do you taste like fucking pine cones?!

MYLUNE:  <keeps rocking back and forth hugging Garrosh against her>  Ohhh silly Mr. Orcie!  Doesn’t it just make you feel all warm and gooey inside knowing you’ve made a poor innocent animal safe and happy!

GARROSH:  <spits again>  Seriously, pine cones!  Hell, I’m half surprised you don’t taste like fucking maple syrup!

MYLUNE:  Why?  Did Jaina say something?

GARROSH:  Why would…okay, you know what, I’m not even going to.  Fuck it.  And… <shoves her away forcefully and steps back>  STOP.  FUCKING.  GRABBING PEOPLE.  Fucking hell, Hamuul, how do you put up with this shit?

HAMUUL:  <long pause>  With copious ale and quiet resignation.

GARROSH:  And hey, you’re a druid, right?

HAMUUL:  There have been rumors to that effect.

GARROSH:  Um…okay.  So listen, dude, whatever you do, don’t go into one of your animal forms around this chick, you know?

HAMUUL:  I know.

GARROSH:  Because seriously, if she—

HAMUUL:  No.  You don’t understand.  I know.

GARROSH:  …Ah.

HAMUUL:  Mmhmm.

MYLUNE:  Oh Hamuul, don’t you be all Mr. Grumpyhooves just because you’re an extra super cuddly kitty cat!

GARROSH:  Seriously, shouldn’t you be up in Silvermoon pledging a sorority and dotting your I’s with little hearts or something?

MYLUNE:  Oh no, silly Mr. Warchief, I never dot my I’s with hearts!

GARROSH:  Why do I get the feeling…

MYLUNE:  I wouldn’t want the other poor letters to feel like I don’t love them too!

GARROSH:  …Yep.

HAMUUL:  It’s been…a slow process here.

MYLUNEOhhhhhh look, a woodchuck!  Isn’t he the sweetest and pudgiest and woodchuckerest little darling ever?

GARROSH:  It’s like if Dontrag and Utvoch had a kid.  Made of pink.

HAMUUL:  Who?

GARROSH:  Count yourself lucky.

MYLUNE:  <hugging the woodchuck, who seems none too thrilled about the situation>  So furry and cuddly and squirmy and fuzzy and SQUEE!

GARROSH:  Hey, listen, Miley or whatever the fuck your name is, did you hear about the fires in Ashenvale?

MYLUNE:  What?  Fires?

GARROSH:  Yeah, there was a huge fire in Ashenvale.  All the deer and squirrels and bear cubs and…like…chipmunks with funny hats that you probably have a conniption over, they all fucking BURNED.

MYLUNE:  <wide-eyed shock>  They…they…

GARROSH:  <aside to Runetotem>  That oughta shut her up for a while.

HAMUUL:  I don’t know if you thought this through.

MYLUNE:  The…cute little animals…burned…?

Mylune’s eyes well up with tears, she throws her head back, and she starts to wail despondently.  Her near-deafening crying grows louder and higher-pitched, climbing in octaves into a piercing screech.  After a few seconds, her voice becomes inaudible, but she continues standing in place, visibly crying.  A moment later, wolves begin howling in the distance.

GARROSH:  Uh oh.

HAMUUL:  As I said.

GARROSH:  I…should maybe get going.

HAMUUL:  Probably.

GARROSH:  Yeah.  I think I need to go stab a bunny or something.

HAMUUL:  Thanks for making light of things being burned alive, by the way.  That was thoughtful.

Awkward.

 

You know, I’m starting to wonder if I should just stop bringing Mokvar places, because seriously, every time I have him with me it seems like some idiotic shit keeps happening.

I still have more work do to here in Hyjal, but I’m in no mood to deal with it after all that bullshit, so I think I’m just going to go check in at Nordrassil and try to do some writing to relax before I get going again.  I still have a new EPIC VERSE to finish up (no, I haven’t forgotten) so hopefully I’ll get that up for you guys pretty quick.  Stay tuned.

And fucking hell.  Seriously.

“I don’t know what he was complaining about. He tasted like cheap beer and arrested development.”

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started