Kinnavieve ain't been gettin' much attentions of late, what with me and Vyprania handling the Team's raiding responsibilities. Mostly she's been keepings ta the background, helping train and equip the next generation of adventurers. But last night she went on a mission fer ta stop Chilly Willy hisself, and she done found herself a snowball-chuckin' pet in the big pile of ice cubes what remained after the fight. So is big fat hairy congo rats ta Kinna!
Ya know that idea ya been kickin' around in the back of yer head? The one about a grand tournament fer ta select that greatest champions of Azeroth, and unite the Alliance and the Horde against Arthas? By havings everyone ride around on ponies, whackin' each other with giant toothpicks?
So, I's been running around in the Plaguelands lately. I's been there once before, knocking over plague cauldrons and busting ghouls outta outhouses, but once I reached me 58th season I dropped'em faster'n a smoking hot peon skull and haulled arse fer the Dark Portal and shiny new Outland. So, is a lotta unfinished business. Ain't much of a challenge no more, what with Naxx and most of the Scarlet Pimplnels run off fer ta gets they's butts whipped in Northrend, but still is buggers willings ta pay ya ta smack down other buggers, so here I is. Usually I expects ta be paid in gold and loot (what I can sell fer more gold), 'cause that's what repair buggers and high-class whores want from me, but this other day I did a job fer just a cup of tea with some sugar. Lemme tell ya about it.
Darrowshire ain't exactly what you'd call a thriving community no mores. Boarded up windows, overgrown lawns, giant blood-sucking bats flappin' around, skeletons lying in the streets - is a real shithole, I tell ya. But ya never know what crazy-arsed blunkerthumper might be hangin' around, willings ta pay fer goatsbane seedlings or spotted troll dick (don't look at me like that - is a pudding!). So I goes in and checks it out. Ya know how ya thinks ya seen it all, after you done pretty much seen it all? Well, you ain't.
This here be Pamela. Say hello, you buggers. Poor kid don't realize she's dead. Or mebbe she didn't remember what it were ta be alive. I's just a simple orc - existantialistcs like this ain't me best subject. Hitting buggers with me axe is. But I digressifies. Anywho, kid asks me ta go find her dolly - is out in the town, and she's got strict orders ta stay in the pile of rubble what used ta be the house. So I goes and gets it fer her, genociding a buncha ghosts along the way. Then she says can I go find her daddy - poor bugger went off to war and never came home. I figure he prolly bought it and rotted away in a shallow grave somewhere, but since she's dead too she ain't likely fer ta hold it against him. And I remembers how I missed me dad when he went off ta war, and how he weren't around ta lovingly beat me with a tree branch ta toughen me up. And I said sure kid, I go find him.
I talked ta his sister. She's dead too. Runs in the family.
I talked ta some scarlet dudes. They had not seen him.
I talked ta Chromie, the vertically-challenged dragon. She checked the book and said, yeah, here he is. Looks like he got scourgified and betrayed and murdered his brothers-in-arms. Just like Darth Vader, only with much less midichlorians. Oopsies. But take this here bag of hocus-pocus, sez Chromie, and drop it in the middle of the town. It'll reverse the flow of chrono-positrons, enabling a phase-shift of the multiversal cross-matrix, inducing a polarizing field of blah blah blah for forty-five minutes she talked, and all I understood was, kill the ghost of the evil dad, and then it'll free the ghost of the good dad. Killing. I can do that.
So back I goes to Darrowshire, and drop the bag in the middle of town square. Nuthin' happened fer a minute, then I starts seeing the spirits of the town militia fade in, like a polaroid what never quite finishes. Then spirits of ghouls and skeletons starts ta show up, and we has us a good old-fashioned rumble in the streets. 'Bout the time it looks like the defenses is gonna hold, dad done gets an evil glow in his eye and starts whackin' down his friends. So that be my cue ta set things right.
Evil dad was a feisty glubbernudder, and he had him an army of the dead backin' him up. But in the end, I fuhggin' put his arse down.
And then, were just like the little dragon said. All them soldiers done faded away, good dad's ghost appears and, after a minute of just sorta standin' there askin' "Oi! By the Light, what was all that scrum? I say!" or however it is them pasty-skinned humans talk, he started walkin' home. And his little girl was there fer ta greet him. Was a very touching moment, if I does say so meself. Woulda shed a tear or two, if I was the sorta bugger what does that. And then the kid went a fixed me some tea with sugar, which were one of the nicest quest rewards anybody ever done give me. Utterly useless, but nice.
And since I's sure one of you buggers'll bring it up, yeah, I has seen Cranius' movie about Pamela. In facts, I'll embeddifies it here. Is basically me story, onlies the names is changed fer ta protect the innocent and all that legal fuhggery. Is very good movie - you should watch, if you ain't befores.
Tail swipes and bad breath is bad enough. Add in a room what be colder than Lady Sylvanas' arse and a whole lotta big fuhggin poopcicles, and you got yerself a real hoottenannificationizing.
Tonight, the Purge went in ta deepest darkest Naxx and woke up this here bonepile, name of Saptharion. Sindraphiron. Sarmalygosa. Whatevers. We had with us Tarsius the kinda sorta sober, Zinzi what gives good resurrection, Unsup and Ix the dead cow twins, Throttle what used ta need goggles but don't no more, Big Bad Guun, Rim with his fingers set ta hocus-pocus (and prolly a rabbit in his hat), Dead-Eye Bull, and of course yours truly in the role of most amazingly virile. Course nobody listened ta me when I told'em fer ta get some frost resist armors, so after a while of getting whacked around by the big boner I sent everyone backs ta civilization fer ta re-gear. We come back, get a little more practice dodging poopcicles, and looky what happened:
Re-re-Naxx is almost clear - just ol' K'T left ta go. Is almost like we's learnin' ta raid er sumthin'.
I dunno, ya think we need more Taurens in the guild...?
Four Horsemen of the Pocky Lips. We had me and Big Bad Guun up front on the Baron and Thane Whosit, while Zeenaa and Unsuptail (making her raiding debut - welcomes, kid!) went deep fer Whiny Dude and Lady Blammo. I tells ya, I'd been worrying about this fight - shootin' and scootin' ain't been The Purge's tradition forta.... fortiy.... fortee.... ah, bugger it. Ain't what we good at. But the team done been transforming before me eyes these past few weeks, and tonight it were rock'em sock'em. Death knuggets, floating swords with delusions of magehood, Gym Teacher Razuvious, Gothik the Potato Farmer - they all went down tonight like Booty Bay whores. By the time we got ta the Pony Express it were straight-up business as usual.
So Maurice, the Death Knight of Looove, done wants ta get his enchanting skills up so as to be ables ta DE stuff what be tougher than Northrend gear. I's thinking he done slipped a cog or three, fer everyone knows ain't nuthin better than the Northrend drops. But whatevers; is his life. Or unlife.
But the trainers won't talks ta him no mores unless he got some more miles under his feet and notches in his bedpost, so this weekend he left the comforts of making the ladies swoon as he stands next ta the Stormwind mailbox, and headed off fer Outland. Is still some good guys there what be willing ta pay ya fer killing bad guys, so he was ables ta bust some heads and season up a bit.
And alongs the way, he done picked up this truly dashing clown outfit. Yeah, that'll definitely bring the ladies ta the yard.