The Queue: Do not be alarmed, mortal

Welcome back to The Queue, our daily Q&A feature for all of Blizzard’s games! Have a question for the Blizzard Watch staff? Leave it in the comments!

Do not be alarmed, mortal. The author you are accustomed to questioning in this hallowed space is indulging in quality time with friends and family, and has asked me to address you in her stead. She was wise to ask, for I am always willing to share words of encouragement, and the wisdom only a creature as ancient and hallowed as myself could begin to possess. Ask, listen, and find enlightenment.

Ah, Illidan. His life so full of potential, yet that potential wasted in the wake of his impatience — but no more. Long have we awaited the time in which he would at last embrace the sweet chords of his own destiny, and bring about the end of the age of demons. Yet I sense that you find this role less than pleasing. Do you not wish to have your world, nay, the very universe protected from harm? Do you expect to accomplish this yourself, despite your lesser designation?

Illidan’s tale has yet to be completed, but I assure you, it will come to a thrilling resolution that will satisfy not just yourself, but every being in creation. My “sweet garbage boy,” to use one of your quaint, colloquial terms, will have his day. It will be a glorious, beautiful day. And as dawn once again arises over a world free from corruption, the vast delights of creation itself will be reflected in his golden, luminous, sparkling orbs.

I am afraid this is an impossible request, Palaven. Much like Illidan’s sweet embrace of both darkness and light, the mental joining of you and I was inevitable. As certain as Illidan will save us all, it is equally certain that you and I share this link. We are bonded now, Palaven, and we can never truly be parted.

But I do not wish you to suffer. Perhaps you would enjoy more varied, extended conversations? We could speak of the vast expanse of the cosmos in which I was brought into being. Or we could speak instead of the Army of Light, their continued fight to bring about the Legion’s end. Or we could speak more of Illidan — his destiny, his precious, shining locks of hair, his abdominal muscles. All of these things are things which I may discuss in great detail.

By the very nature of your inquiry, it seems that your mortal ears are not attuned to hear the naaru song. But I assure you, our song is one of constant variation. It possesses complexities beyond your comprehension. It is ever changing, ever evolving, and always on key. Perhaps it is for the best that you cannot properly experience its splendor, for I fear you would be transfixed. But to answer your question, no, I am unable to change my tune upon request, for it is already changing. Were you to ask that I hold one melody indefinitely, that I could not accomplish.

I am afraid I am unable to properly answer your question. But take comfort in the fact that this is not out of a wish for you to experience any pain. Instead, it is because as a creature crafted at the great ordering of the cosmos, I do not possess a head with which to ache. Therefore I have no favorite remedy. Perhaps if your friend indulges in simple relaxation, listens to my calming chimes, and contemplates their myriad complexities, they will see the pain subside and pass.

As a naaru, I neither wish nor am able to assume the qualities necessary to become a hunter of demons by your definition of the term. However, if one were to take a moment and ponder my role in this path of destiny, one would discover that I am, in fact, hunting demons in a fashion. I lack the mortal shell to accomplish this purpose, but I support the efforts of the Army of Light, and of course my dear son Illidan Stormrage. In that way, I too hunt demons, although my methods differ from what your mortal minds are accustomed to seeing.

But in order to contain Illidan’s precious soul, many fragments are needed. Far more than would be needed for anyone else. For Illidan’s soul is not only vast, it is conflicted with boundless chaotic energies. It is powerful, inspiring. It is breathtaking to behold. It requires — nay, demands a full contingent of eighty precious fragments. Nothing less will possibly do.

My kind existed long before the Burning Legion, and our song will continue on long after its end. Why would we seek the employ of the very thing we wish to halt? Your question lacks logic. The very implication is absurd. Please, listen to my pleasant, calming chimes, and let them soothe you. I sense your distress, and wish only to help.

I know nothing of this “lore” of which you speak. As a cosmic entity, however, I am aware that every story in the universe has multiple dimensions, yet we sometimes lack the mortal capacity to see more than one side. I should not say we, for I mean you. I, of course, am able to witness all sides of destiny simultaneously, and comprehend its vast intricacies far more readily than any mortal could possibly hope to decipher.

If you wish to continue down the path of untoward skepticism, I shall use another of your quaint colloquialisms and ask only that you leave my “glorious trash son” out of your speculations, as he is a “precious cinnamon roll” and does not deserve your scrutiny.  Or as you mortals put it, “don’t talk to me or my son ever again.”

Farewell, mortals — for my purpose here has been accomplished. If you have any further inquiries, I beseech you to leave them below, where they will doubtless be answered in the future. Not by myself, but by others who proudly hold quill to paper and pen the words you absorb without fail every single day. If you seek further answers from myself, please calm yourself, meditate, and I will be with you once this vast cosmic battle has been at last resolved. Or in the absence of my wisdom, it may be wisest to ask oneself, “What would Illidan do?” For whatever the answer may be, you may be assured it is only correct.