Now I know why Kael’thas can’t get laid

In a moment of what I can only assume was utter utter, potentially masochistic insanity I started reading the Arthas novelisation. And, oh dear me, it’s terrible. I don’t know why I’m even remotely surprised.

It’s written in a weird mixture of rather modern English (to the extent that, in my head, Arthas sounds like he’s played by Keannu Reeves) and ye old fantasy clunkiness. Let me quote you a paricularly egregious line from the very first page: “long had he lived, the length and yellowness of his tusks and the wrinkles on his brown skin testament to the fact.” I’m sorry but nobody has the right to write “long had he lived” and then cruelly juxtapose it with the adjective-abuse that is “yellowness.” It’s also incredibly laboured. Every trite point is whacked into your face as if by the hammer of righteoness. Take this little discussion beween 9 year old Arthas and Prince Varian, whose father has just been assassinated.

“He was assassinated,” Varian’s voice was blunt and emotionless.

…
Arthas stared. Death in glorious battle was difficult enough to handle but this-

Impulsively he placed a hand on the other Prince’s arm. “I saw a foal being born yesterday,” he said. It sounded inane [no shit], but it was the first thing that sprang to his mind and he spoke earnestly. “When the weather lets up, I’ll take you to see him. He’s the most amazing thing.”

Varian turned towards him and gazed at him for a long moment. Emotions flitted across his face – offense, disbelief, gratitude, yearning, understanding. Suddenly the brown eyes filled with tears and Varian looked away. He folded his arms and hunched in on himself, his shoulders shaking with sobs he did his best to muffle…

…

“I hate winter,” Varian sobbed, and the depth of his hurt conveyed by those three siimple words, a seeming non-sequiteur, humbled Arthas.

Well, thanks for joining the emotional dots for me with a crayon. Otherwise I might not have got it and thought that was, heaven forefend, a genuine non-sequiteur

And could we please have a different description of Arthas’s eyes. I understand they’re sea-green. But can they be a different green sometimes? Maybe glass-green? Or grass-green? Howsabout cat-green? Or since you haven’t dodged a single cliche thus far, I’d settle for jade, or malachite.

One more thing while I’m at it. Arthas. Arthas. Arthas. Why the fuck did you call your horse Invincible? Seriously, do you have no understanding of dramatic irony, you silly silly boy?

But ultimately Arthas: Rise of the Lch King is an easy read, as effortless and compelling as slightly stale cinema popcorn. And I’m in it for Kael, anyway, which brings me effortlessly back to the topic of this post.

The one redeeming of factor of the whole enterprise is that I get to see Kael in action because, as we know, I’m a bit of a fanboy for the tragic, soliquising nutter. Unfortunately, I don’t think Ms Golden is quite up to the task because he mostly comes across as, well, I hate to say it, flouncy:

With an angry hiss, he scornfully tossed the book toward Jaina. The tome, likely invaluable, landed with a thump at Jaina’s feet and she started at the sound. Then he was gone in a swirl of violet and gold robes.

Kael’thas Sunstrider, Prince of the Sin’dorei, storming out the room in his sissy robes, while making a noise like a cat when you’ve stood on its tail. Way to go.

We first encounter him, he is attempting to chat up Jaina Proudmoore (why, Kael, why? Is she half your age plus seven, is she? Find yourself a nice belf boy) in the gardens of Dalaran and, quite frankly, the guy needs help.

“In Quel’Thalas,” came a smooth, cultured voice, “there are trees that tower over these in a glory of white bark and golden leaves, that all but sing in the evening breezes. I think you would enjoy seeing them someday.”

Oh Kael. What are you doing? In the immortal words of Dave Lister, you couldn’t pull a rotten tooth out a dead horse’s head with that one. Are you seriously trying to get it on with Jaina Proudmore by boasting about the size of your apple tree?

Okay, blogsphere, it’s evident to me – as I’m sure it must be evident to the rest of you – poor Kael’thas needs our help. I know his chances of pulling are relatively low, given that he’s canonically dead, but, from this example, I can’t imagine they’ve decreased by much.

I hereby present some alternative lines for him to try on future occasions, and invite you to do the same:

I’ll turn your world upside down

You are not prepared (for my penis)

Nothing of my homeland remains, but ash and sorrow – wanna shag?

Alas, sometimes one must take matters into one’s own hands, but I’d rather you handled it for me

Get your gilded thorium cloak, you’ve pulled.

Are you a rogue, because I think you just pickpocketed my heart.

I think Shattrath must be missing a Naaru.

I’m new in Dalaran. Could you give me directions to your bed?

Is there a dragonhawk rider nearby or is that just my heart taking off?

I’m the bloodsail buccaneer of love and I’m here for your booty.

Do you have a heavy netherweave bandage. Because I just hurt myself falling for you.

Do you have travel form? Because you’ve been running through my mind all night.

Excuse me, do you have any telaari grapes? No? How about a date?

Is it hot in here or are you just fire specced?

Did you use deathgrip, because you just pulled me?

Hi, will you help me find my phoenix? I think he went into my bedroom.

Alternatively, he could just give up on the pointless bintiness of Jaina Proudmoore and make a play for Arthas. In which case, I suggest he should open with this:

“Is that an ancient runeblade forged by the Lich King Ner’zhul to steal souls and free him from the frozen throne, that he may seek vengeance against the burning legion in your pocket … or are you just pleased to see me?”