To cool my temper down, I did some rereading over at my Twitter account to find some of the amusing conversations I had, and one dialogue that particularly stood out was the one I had with – of all people – Genn Greymane. The man (beast?) proved that even he can be a good sport once in a while.

thebansheequeen: Thank you, Matthew Rossi, for emphasizing how badass I am compared to @JainaProudmoore. http://bit.ly/5hAXRz
Genn_Greymane: @thebansheequeen You are much more badass than that traitor cheerleader.
thebansheequeen: @Genn_Greymane What’s this? A compliment from *you*, Greymane? I’m flattered. Shall I send over some dog biscuits to show my appreciation?
Genn_Greymane:  @thebansheequeen I’d be flattered if you’d bring them by yourself. I’ll bring a nice sharp “knife” so we can share.
thebansheequeen: @Genn_Greymane How very sweet of you. Here I thought I’d have to “share” with a defenseless, unarmed old mutt. That wouldn’t be very fair.
Genn_Greymane: @thebansheequeen Speaking of sweet I wrote you a poem. “I may be old and have arthritis but at least I’m not dead” It’s a work in progress.
thebansheequeen: @Genn_Greymane I have a better one for you: I may be blue-hued, dead, and cold, but it sure beats being mangy, demented, and old.
Genn_Greymane:  @thebansheequeen M’lady you truly are verbal master. I know when I’ve been beaten. I’ll retreat from this battle. It has been enjoyable.
thebansheequeen: @Genn_Greymane Thank you for being a good sport, Greymane. And no, I’m not being sarcastic this time. *smiles and bows*
Genn_Greymane: @thebansheequeen *bows deeply* Anytime M’lady.

Perhaps more battles between the Alliance and Horde could be done through poetry battles instead? I do enjoy my share of bloodshed, but poetry battles would definitely lessen the resource costs.

—

“Ranger-General, a moment?”

Fifteen rangers were training under me that day. They all lowered their bows with confused looks on their faces, and abruptly dropped down on their knees upon seeing our guest. I called out to them ordered them to continue their practice. A long pause followed my order, but they reluctantly stood and obeyed. I turned to greet our surprise visitor with a low bow and a respectful smile.

“To what do I owe this pleasant interruption, Prince Kael’thas?”

“Lady Windrunner,” he said, a practiced half-smile gracing his lips. “My father believed it fit that I come and… observe the Farstriders’ activities.”

I nodded. “I see. Then you’ve come just in time. We’ve just begun some archery drills with the newest members of the order.”

The young prince said nothing, looking over the row of Farstriders firing at targets several yards away. His eyes visibly widened as he sucked in a hissing breath upon spotting the very last ranger in the row.

“Lady Windrunner,” he scoffed, “You cannot be serious about that one being one of our rangers.”

I eyed the ranger calmly.  ”Of course I’m serious, your highness. He’s the most skilled ranger in this group, and one of the best pupils I have ever had.”

“But he’s human.”

I ignored him. “His name is Nathanos Marris, your highness. He’s a superb archer, outclassing even some of our veterans. He’s excellent at close-range combat, and has exemplary beast mastery skills–”

And then the prince practically spat the words out for all to hear. “But he’s human.“

The awkward silence that followed was shattered by the loud twang of a taut bowstring breaking. Nathanos’. He grit his teeth, bowed swiftly in my direction, and hurriedly strode off to replace the string. The other Farstriders began whispering among themselves, some obviously irritated by the interruption, and the others snickering at Nathanos’ retreat.

It was only then that I truly realized that I was alone in my decision to allow Nathanos into the corps.

“I don’t see any other broken bowstrings there,” I bellowed. “Get back to practice!” As the remaining rangers hurriedly resumed their activity, I turned back to the young prince, who had a barely visible smirk on his face.

“Seeing that even the other rangers are none too pleased to be working alongside this human,” said the prince, with all his arrogant air, “I humbly propose that you relieve him of his position.”

“And I humbly refuse, your highness.”

The prince looked as though he had been slapped. ”Surely there are quel’dorei who are more capable than–”

“There are but a scant few who are more capable than Nathanos Marris, your highness, and they’re all part of the corps.”

“Then as your prince, I order you to–”

By then I could feel my anger reaching its breaking point. “Even if you order me to do so, I will deny you. You shame your father’s name with your outright lack of tolerance toward other races, your highness.”

The prince opened his mouth, but appeared to think the better of it and shut it again. Then he nodded and left without another word.

A few days later, I received a formal letter “requesting” that Nathanos be removed from the corps. I immediately sent a response and awaited further arguments from Kael, but the issue was eventually dropped. I don’t know if my words had moved the prince, or if King Anasterian had said something to his son… but Kael matured over time and eventually learned to respect humans – even going so far as to fall in love with one. Regardless, Nathanos remained with us, eventually gaining the respect of most of his comrades and becoming the first – and last – human ranger lord.

I couldn’t help but seek the company of friends and booze when I saw yet another strange piece of fanart involving me and the WRONG guy: Sylvanas and Illidan. And then Lor’themar reminded me of rumors about me and Kael’thas, and about me and Nathanos. Can we stop pairing poor, single Sylvanas with guys she hates or doesn’t even know? I’m single by choice, children. That doesn’t give you the right to pair me with whomever you damn well please. Pairing me with Lor’themar, or Halduron…or maybe Sig Nicious…is quite welcome though.

Anyway, Thrall was kind enough to offer to have me picked up when I felt like heading back to Undercity this morning, but I found my way back on my own. Granted, I misstepped in the Undercity elevator and was in for a nasty fall, but I still managed to switch to incorporeal form right before I hit the ground. I’m now safely ensconced in my chambers in the Royal Quarter with a warm cup of black coffee. Nathanos burst into my chambers a while ago and yelled at me for being out so late without letting anyone in Undercity know where I was. Perhaps he was just asking the wrong people, but I did post about it on Twitter and warned Sharlindra I’d be out in Silvermoon. It was pleasant to know that Nathanos still had enough heart to care about me, but I eventually got fed up and yelled right back at him.

Note: Getting yelled at by a banshee is dangerous to your ears.

Nathanos is deaf at the moment, but I didn’t do any permanent damage. Yelling is different from screaming after all. I had him tucked away somewhere hidden for now; I can’t be having him wandering around when he can’t hear a single damned thing. The Alliance has a huge bounty on his head, and I won’t risk them taking advantage of his handicap.

I’m getting more and more dependent on friends (new and old) these days, even if I have berated them in the past. I hope I’m not going soft.

There are – count them - 36 people named Sylvanas Windrunner on Facebook (the search results yielded 45 people, but only 36 are actually named Sylvanas Windrunner).

I don’t know whether to be flattered or afraid. I should be used to this by now since Googling my own name yields a lot of results, but the Facebook thing just really took me by surprise. I mean, 19 Cairne Bloodhoofs, 22 Kael’thas Sunstriders, 21 Jaina Proudmoores, 7 Varian Wrynns,  and only one Lor’themar Theron (is that even really you, Lor?)…but then again, there are more than 500 people results for Thrall and over 140 for Arthas Menethil (didn’t bother checking how many of those were actually named “Thrall” or “Arthas Menethil”), so I guess I shouldn’t complain.

That said, the slight inclination I had to sign up for a Facebook account just flew out the window and disappeared into the Plaguelands.

Responsibilities:

• Acting as mediator between the Banshee Queen and her subjects
• Managing/arranging various conferences, and audiences
• Filing/signing paperwork
• Participating in strategic meetings and providing solid, well-researched advice
• Overseeing major projects within Undercity when the Banshee Queen is unavailable
• Polishing the Banshee Queen’s boots when Nathanos Blightcaller is unavailable

Requirements

• Must be undead or willing to become undead
• At least 5 years experience as a political/military leader or community manager
• Some knowledge in the dark arts preferred
• Impressive combat skills
• Highly sociable and able to deal with people from various walks of life and unlife
• A strong stomach for all things undead and putrid

If you meet the above requirements and believe that you will be able to fulfill the responsibilities listed, send an e-mail to thebansheequeenoftheforsaken@REMOVETHISgmail.com with your cover letter and resume.

DREADLORDS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO APPLY.

Nathanos is still out cold, so he’s stuck in Undercity for a while. I find it really bizarre that he got knocked out like that. He was a one-man keg-draining machine back when he was a human–oh, wait, that was just back in Silvermoon. Human and elven drinks aren’t as nasty as ogre drinks, after all.

…I guess you’re wondering how I got through the drinking contest with Nathanos without passing out. Well…let’s just say that after you’ve downed one pint of Kel’Thuzad’s “private stock”, you’ll survive any other alcoholic beverage. I have no idea what that crazy pile of bones puts in it, and I don’t think I want to find out.

Yes, as far as I know, the Scourge celebrates Brewfest too. I had the misfortune of “celebrating” with them back when I was still in their ranks. Kel’Thuzad falling apart at the joints, Arthas vomiting into his own hair (no one wanted to hold his hair back for him while he puked, hahaha) before falling down in a depressed heap, drunk Death Knights singing loud songs with their ghouls, Anub’arak skittering and jumping all over the place like a house spider on crack (only x1000000 larger)… it’s not a pretty sight.

…it was worth it to see Arthas bawling like a baby though.  Hearing him crying out stuff like ”JAINAAAAAAAAAAAAAA COME BAAAAAAAACK *sobsobHICsobsob*” was hilarious.

I LVOEEEEEEEE BREWFEST N PINK ELLEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKS!!LETSPARTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYWOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!!!

…….fck hven’t slept yet so my haed hurts liek woah….oh, i said that alrdy ahahaaha……..maybe if i shft to my incoproreal…incporael…iiinnnnnnnnnncorrrrrrrporrrreeeeaaaaal form it won’t hurt nemore? HEEEEEEEEE.

My movements to and from Northrend have been halted, and nearly all of my activity outside of Undercity has to be done under watchful eyes. It’s tough, but I’m willing to endure it for the sake of my people. The Apothecarium’s research projects have been put on standby not only because the Horde has become wary of our concoctions, but also because of last month’s accident.

Right now we’re focusing on reconstructing some sections of Undercity that were damaged in the coup d’etat (it was quite a lot of damage, so we’re still not done with that yet), and cleaning up the mess that the accident left in the Apothecarium. There are still traces of the toxic gas in there, so the banshees are in charge of the clean-up, seeing as their incorporeal forms are immune to it. Ambassador Sunsorrow initially attempted to have some sin’dorei mages animate some mops and brooms to do it, but something in the gas was preventing their magic from working properly. When I asked Faranell what in the hell was in that gas, he showed me a long list of reagents, and at the top of that list was Troll Sweat.

I swear, I am never standing next to a sweaty troll ever again.

Actually, practically everyone is on Twitter now. Jaina Proudmoore, Lady Vashj, Varian Wrynn, Tirion Fordring, Malfurion Stormrage, Illidan Stormrage…even Deathwing has a Twitter account.

…and there are at least two tweeting Sylvanas Windrunners. Neither of them are me though, and I don’t plan on becoming one of them. I am not going to sign up for a Twitter account. Scratch that; I got myself a Twitter account out of sheer boredom…and well, since Thrall was orc enough to give blogging a try, I thought I could be banshee enough to give a Tweeting a try. You can visit my Twitter account here.

I’m much better now, but I’m afraid my voice has been permanently damaged by the toxins. Thanks to my banshee powers I can still sing, but speaking is a whole different story. If I sound funny when you bump into me at Undercity, please try not to laugh. For your own sake.