I looked around for Varian, to get him to beat some sense into the Trolls. We had to fight our way through the beach just to find the Trolls holding the rear area and they didn’t offer any help, and now they expect us to take down the Iron Juggernaut for ‘em? WTF Varian, I thought the idea was we let the TROLLS eat the losses so we can clean up what’s left over?

Varian, shocker of the day, was nowhere to be found. Fine. If we’re going to have to do this thing, then we might as well do ‘er up right.

The Misfits huddled together, looking over the fence at the Iron Juggernaut, working up a gameplan.

“Right. Let’s take a look at what we’re dealing with here. It’s big, so that must mean it’s slow. We’ve got it beat in mobility. What else?”

“Well, you see those vents? Those are for spraying hot oil everywhere. And you see that gleam on the tail?”

“Yeah?”

“Tracking lasers.”

“WTF are lasers?”

“Don’t worry about it, the audience knows what they are.”

“Who?”

“Shaddup.”

“So lasers that chase you around and hot oil, okay. That’s not so bad.”

“And then there is the bomb dispenser.”

“The what?”

“Yeah, see there on the sides. Bombs will drop out and after a bit will blow up everything and everyone. Game over, the end.”

“So, what do we do about it?”

“Not die?”

“Fuck you, Varian.”

“And then there are the big chainsaw blades on the arms on the front, and this massive sonic explosion that will knock everyone back the length of a boomball field unless they have their back to a wall, and the mortar shells that will blow our asses to Elunes Pretty Pretty Palace, and…”

“You shut up too.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Run in, spread out, stand with your back to a fence and don’t die.”

“Lols, good one. Okay, but what’s the plan?”

“Pulling in 5… 4… 3… ”

“OH SHIT, HE’S SERIOUS!”

And so began our epic battle against the Iron Juggernaut, or as I like to refer to it, “flamie boom time.”

We rushed the Iron Juggernaut, and we spread out, and put our backs to things, and got down with the beat down, and there was wailing, and running from lasers, and more wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and lots and lots o’ explosions.

Then we died.

The Trolls apparently drug our burnt, wracked and oil-splattered bodies out of the wreckage, because the next thing I knew we were all sitting around a campfire, feeling kind of mellow.

“Dude, the trolls are healing us as we hang out here. Pretty cool of them, man.”

“Put that shit down, it’s not helping you to focus. Plus, they better fucking heal us back up, we’re the ones doing the dying while they beat on the fucking drum. Fine That was a warmup. Let’s do this thing!”

Many explosions and screams later….

“Okay, pass that shit over here. Who needs focus, my spleen hurts.”

“I didn’t know you could feel your spleen.”

“Neither did I. Ouchie.”

“Okay, so what went wrong that time?”

“You know those helpful bombs with the red countdown timer thingies over their heads?”

“Yeah?”

“Those fracking hurt, man.”

“Thanks for the tip. So whatta we gonna do about ‘em?”

Monstre stood up, planted his hands in a powerful pose on his hips, and announced, “I know what we have to do. Follow me!”

Or maybe it was Plankton. I mean Pankration. Yeah, that’s who I mean.

We charged in and got down to business. We got the oil, yeah whatever, and the lasers, run away NO NOT THROUGH THE OIL DUMBASS and we got the mortars and we got the chainsaws and the explosive knockbacks, okay, now there are the bombs.

HEY MONSTRE, WHAT WAS YOUR BIG PLAN?

So there he goes, and he runs at a bomb, and he jumps on it, burying it in the sand.

“Are you out of your ever-rotten mind?”

The bomb goes off, and instead of shattering the team, it just smacks Monstre around hard.

Wait, so this is a case of ‘bouncing betty blows his balls off’, so we bury it in the sand and only one person gets blowed up?

“Hey Mibs, go jump on bombs…. stop whimpering, you’re a Demonology Warlock, that’s like being a lawyer, you can cry all you want when the hurting begins, half the people listening don’t care and the other half think it’s a good start, man.”

Jump, jump you little imp flogger! Jump as though your life depended on it!

So the secret is to jump on the bombs with cooldowns up and just let those best suited to dealing with physical damage eat the big badabooms, huh?

Good to know.

To be on the safe side, though, I think we need to throw Mibs out in front of the raid as we advance. There could be land mines.

Finally, there before us is the wide-open gates of Orgrimmar!

This should be easy, right? I mean, sure it’s a city filled with militant Orc extremists, but it’s not like the ten of us have to kill everyone all by ourselves. We got that big Alliance army, we got a Horde a Trolls, this should be fun. We’ll just swarm in there and make this change happen.

Why is everyone looking at me again?

Is it my breath? I know, but mixing habanero jack cheese, bacon and fried spam sounded like a good idea at the time.

What?

Oh, come on.

Why the hell did we BRING an army if we’re not going to USE the fucking army? What, are we short on peeled potatoes?

Fine, into the dreaded gates of Orgrimmar the ten stalwart heroes go, blah blah blah.

Hey Varian?

Yeah, fuck you Varian.

One Response to “The Weary Warlock Part 3 – Big Badaboom”
  1. Seren says:

    I have to admit, I’ve been more than a little lax about playing WoW lately. But after reading this, I actually feel like gearing up and raiding again.

  2.  

World of Warcraft™ and Blizzard Entertainment® are all trademarks or registered trademarks of Blizzard Entertainment in the United States and/or other countries. These terms and all related materials, logos, and images are copyright © Blizzard Entertainment. This site is in no way associated with Blizzard Entertainment®