Tag Archives: mirembe

DPS (poetry) check

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That’s right, it’s time for this week’s edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge. You all know the deal by now — in honor of National Poetry Month, I’m inviting my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS to send in their own poetic masterpieces (cough), out of which I select GLORIOUSLY LUCKY SUBMISSIONS to feature here, along with my own EPIC VERSE response.

For today’s round, I’ve got some extra special submissions for you. Specifically, a bunch of my very own trainees from the DPS saw fit to try to emulate their beloved mentor and cook up some wannabe-masterpieces of their own. This may or may not have had something to do with an offer I might possibly have made to accept a poem submission in lieu of the 300-laps-around-Orgrimmar jogging drill I just happened to assign them the other day. BUT NEVERTHELESS.

Point is, though, that means that this edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge features NOT ONE, NOT TWO, but THREE featured poems. CAN YOU CONTAIN YOUR EXCITEMENT? I DON’T BELIEVE YOU CAN.

So, with no further ado, let’s see what the kids have come up with.

Our first submission comes from Mirembe, and see, this is actually pretty impressive, in the sense that Mirembe isn’t even stationed in Orgrimmar right now — she’s still up in Northrend on training maneuvers with Tov’osh — so she wasn’t even here when I issued my ultimatum made my offer to her DPS peers. But she didn’t let that stop her from cranking out a little something.

Which, you know, is more than I can say for Tov’osh.

BUT WHY DWELL ON THE NEGATIVE. After all if there’s one thing you people know about me, it’s my positive attitude and sunny outlook on life. So let’s have a look at Mirembe’s submission and see if one of my minions managed NOT TO FUCKING DISAPPOINT ME FOR ONCE.

 

There once was an orc from Garadar
Who was invited by Thrall to travel very far
He slaughtered the Scourge
And then went on to purge
All those not loyal to Orgrimmar!

 

Not bad, not bad… Although, I mean, considering she knew she was sending it in to ME, this DOES kind of smack of a little tiny vague whiff of… you know… sucking up to the guy with the grade book. Not a dealbreaker or anything, but I can’t help but have it on the brain when I cook up my response…

 

Now I usually don’t go in for flattery —
Blatant suck-ups get assault and battery.
But you’re right — it’s more dangerous
To be one of the traitorous:
Who’ll surely lose part of their anatomy.


EPIC VERSE!

 

Okay, next up is a submission from Korrina — who, by the way, just recently gave in to peer pressure from her fellow trainees and got herself set up on Twitter. Where she wasted no time in becoming a pretty damn prolific tweeter, I’ll have you know. Anyhow, you should all go follow her if you’re not already. YOUR WARCHIEF HAS SPOKEN.

So, free advertising aside, let’s see what Korrina has to show for her efforts…

 

Whose woods these are I do not know
They’re near a Night Elf village though
We must be quiet working here
To chop our wood and quickly go

My peons should be filled with fear
But they have not a brain cell near
I’m not sure they would even run
If Allied soldiers should appear

I booterang the slowest one
To make sure he gets his work done
The punishment he thinks is steep
But soon he’s loaded half a tonne

Our cart is loaded thirty deep
And back to Orgrimmar we creep
I bet those Night Elves sure will weep
I bet those Night Elves sure will weep

EPIC VERSE

 

Gotta say, that’s pretty damn good. Other than the part where she got a little too full of herself and decided her creation here was worthy of EPIC VERSE treatment. You’re gettin’ there, kid, but not quite, not yet. Still, credit where it’s due, this WAS a good job, so I went ahead and granted you, y’know, rare verse status with your text color. It WAS a good piece of work. So on top of being a promising warrior-in-training, Korrina might also have a possible side gig as a poet. Assuming she doesn’t consider it too much of a weenie undertaking to do as more than a one-off. To which, pfft. But anyway. On to my response…

 

Whose woods these are I know full well;
Those night elves can all go to hell.
I stomped about and yelled and swore,
For I won’t walk ’round on eggshells.

My wyvern makes a mighty roar
As up above the trees we soar;
Where once we flew on bombing runs,
But quoth the druid: Nevermore.

The night elves aim with futile guns,
But each shot Mortimer outruns.
I wonder what the hell’s their qualm;
Your guess is good as anyone’s.

These night elf woods will soon be calm,
When they are ours: just one more bomb,
Just north of where we honor Grom.
Just north of where we honor Grom.


EPIC VERSE!

 

Okay, so last and possibly least, maybe or maybe not, WE’LL JUST HAVE TO SEE, here’s one from Ruekie (@RuekieShaman on Twitter, by the way, for any of you jokers who aren’t already following her as you ABSOLUTELY SHOULD)…

 

Dark and creamy, Mr. Delicious
Your flavor makes me quite ambitious.

Your scent so wild, so strong and heady.
My body sings I am ready!

Give it to me, give it to me now.
That nectar of life, give me that POW!

I thirst for that extra potion of power!
That crazy haste buff that lasts an hour!

Espresso, mocha java, vanilla latte!
Not in a sippy cup, give me GRANDE!

That surge of great flavor, that fabulous taste.
Oh, how I adore it along with that HASTE!

PLEASE! PLEASE! TAKE ME AWAY!
TAKE ME TO EVERY STARBULLS KAFE!

Once I’ve consumed every last drop with glee,
Move over rover – I gotta go pee!

(I’m serious about this, don’t you laugh
Try taking my kafa, it will be your last gaffe.)

 

Uh, yeah. So… that was a thing.

Does she do this on purpose? I feel like she has to do this on purpose, just because she does it so damn much. And then I remember I’ve actually met her, and what she’s like in person, and yeah, no.

Anyway, here’s what I have to say back to her:

 

Now cool your jets and try to stay calm,
And wait a moment while I facepalm.

Her every good idea goes south
The moment she first opens her mouth.

We tried to warn; she never took heed.
Every time she talks, she winds up ruekied.

So listen, Rook, in your next letter,
You’ve gotta pick your words much better.

Although your poem could be splendid,
It implied much more than you intended.

I know to you kafa’s amazing,
But that’s not what it seems you’re praising:

Oh no — instead, it seems it’s me:
Subject of trainee fantasy.

And folks already hate my scruples,
Without suspicions of my pupils.

What’s more, you’re younger than my daughter;
My hate mail doesn’t need more fodder.

So stand corrected, stand your ground,
Stand up for kafa, stand out in the crowd,

But please don’t stand, for all to see,
Don’t stand, don’t stand so close to me.


EPIC VERSE!

 

So… yeah. I’m not sure why I went into this one thinking that Ruekie WASN’T going to… you know… do what she does. But I mean, seriously. I get enough people bitching and complaining to me about the stuff I ACTUALLY DO, without little miss foot-in-mouth giving them more ammunition over imaginary shit I DON’T do. Ugh.

 

Anyhow, that’s going to do it for this EXTRA GIANT PACKED edition of Garrosh’s Poetry challenge. Remember to keep those poems coming in — anything I receive by the end of the day next Monday is eligible for next week’s post, and who knows, maybe I’ll toss out a bonus edition at some point. Or maybe not. Depends on whether I get ambitious. Or lazy. Who knows.

ANYWAY, handy form below, or use the e-mail link in the upper right sidebar. You know the drill. More soon.

 

Horde Iron Chef (part 2)

orgrimmar24

[This is usually the part where a writer would try to build in some catch-up exposition for the benefit of anyone who missed the first part, but you know what? Screw it. If you’re here at all, you’re probably on board with the idea of continuity. Nobody’s fault but your own if you’re confused! Moving on!]

 

LIADRIN: I wouldn’t mind trying some of that myself, Warchief.

GARROSH: Coming up.

LIADRIN: Would you like some, Salandria?

SALANDRIA: That’s okay. You can be the guinea pig for now.

While Garrosh serves up a bowl of noodles to Liadrin, Korrina and Kulkesh enter.

RUEKIE: Hi guys!

KORRINA: Hey.

KULKESH: Greetings, Captain. It’s–

Kulkesh trails off as Garrosh turns to them. He and Korrina stare for a moment.

KORRINA: Um.

KULKESH: Uh… that is… hi, sir. It’s… you really did get into the spirit of things, didn’t you, Captain…?

KORRINA: All I’m going to say is, um, you must be incredibly secure in yourself, sir…

GARROSH: Why is EVERYONE reacting like this?

SHAYARI: Would you like the reasons alphabetically, chronologically, or in order of how much they make me want to wear a bucket over my head for the next thousand years or so?

GARROSH: Okay, that’s it — NO NOODLES FOR YOU!

KULKESH: How are you feeling, Gurt?

GURTASH: Not bad. I mean, I’m still a little sore. And I’m still checking in with the healers every couple of days. But I’m pretty much recovered at this point.

KULKESH: Cool. You know, if you hadn’t come around soon, we were going to head over to Blackrock Spire and go dragon hunting ourselves.

KORRINA: Yeah, we were going to go all Wrathion on their asses.

GURTASH: Heh. I appreciate it, guys.

LIADRIN: I’m glad the healers are nearly done with your injuries, Gurtash. If you ever think it might help, I’m happy to cast a Flash of Light or two, although, granted, my areas of expertise are more in the realm of protection than healing.

MOKVAR: Too bad you weren’t with us in the Spire. We probably could have used a tank up there.

SHAYARI: Pip especially.

RUEKIE: Speaking of which, kind of, has anybody seen Mirembe?

KORRINA: She’s around here somewhere. We ran into her at one of the noodle stands.

KULKESH: I don’t know if she was going to stick around, though.

GURTASH: How come?

KORRINA: Oh, something about that Lantresor guy.

KULKESH: I think she ran into him while she was trying some food, and he made some comment about her weight, or something.

KORRINA: “Potbelly,” was it?

KULKESH: Yeah, I think so.

SHAYARI: Oh, spirits, THAT guy.

GURTASH: You know him?

SHAYARI: We’ve talked a couple times since he came to Orgrimmar. He’s a piece of work, let me tell you. Always going on and on about “oh, children of two worlds,” and “oh, we are alike, you and I,” and “you are not alone,” and “you are not alone,” and “ohh — did I mention? — you are not alone,” and I’m like, okay, I get it, I’m not alone, you’re making me wish I was, Professor YANA.

KORRINA: Old people are weird.

SALANDRIA: How old?

LIADRIN: Don’t start.

Ji enters, accompanied by Spazzle and Giska.

GARROSH: Ah, perfect, just the pudgeball I was looking for.

JI: Hello, Garrosh! Everyone!

SPAZZLE: Hey boss.

MOKVAR: Afternoon, Ji. Everything finally set up?

JI: Almost. Not quite. There’s an even better turnout than I’d expected!

SPAZZLE: Which means even more setup for us to do on the fly…

MOKVAR: How did he rope you into this anyway, Spaz?

GARROSH: Yeah, Pea Pod, I would’ve figured he’d have plenty of pandas to call in on this, seeing as, you know, this IS a panda festival.

JI: Oh, many of the Huojin have been busy working on the festival, sir. But they’ve mostly been cooking.

SPAZZLE: Which left plenty more setup work that Ji needed me to lend a hand with. At an hourly rate, anyway.

JI: Wait, you meant that? I thought you were joking!

SPAZZLE: Hey, I’ve got billing rules to follow! I’m in a union, you know!

MOKVAR: I thought it was a cartel.

SPAZZLE: We’re goblins! Same difference!

JI: But we’re friends!

SPAZZLE: Yeah, well, time is money, friend!

GARROSH: So listen, Deep Dish, you have somewhere I can set up? Probably with some space around it, for when people start flocking to get a taste of my stuff here.

Korrina, Gurtash, Kulkesh, and Giska all turn to look at Ruekie.

RUEKIE: <aside> I’m not saying anything!

KORRINA: <aside> You’re sure? You looked like you were about to say something.

RUEKIE: <aside> No no no, I’m keeping my mouth shut from now on! Every time I open my mouth, somebody sticks– hoooooo boy I almost did it again! Whew!

JI: Well, Garrosh… hmm. I still need to set up a few stations, but…

GARROSH: <pointing> What about right over here? Looks like you’ve got a couple spots.

JI: Well, yes, one of those is reserved, but I suppose you can take the other. Do you need a hand setting up?

GARROSH: Pfft, what’s there to set up?

Garrosh drops his pot on the table with a heavy thud.

OH HEY, we’ve got a cooking fire here and everything.

JI: Oh yes, several of the stations have them. Many of our participants are cooking right here on the premises!

GARROSH: Ah, nice, this way I can whip up a little MORE of this stuff, seeing as we’re probably gonna go through it pretty quick, even before we figure in Mokvar’s little pink friend.

MOKVAR: Uh, yeah, sorry about that again.

GARROSH: Actually… here.

Garrosh reaches over to Mokvar and yanks a page from his pack, sending some of his inscription gear spilling to the ground.

MOKVAR: <gathering his belongings> You know you could have just asked.

GARROSH: <scribbling on the page> Yeah, yeah, boo hoo. You two, front and center.

Korrina and Kulkesh go to Garrosh.

KULKESH: Yes, sir!

GARROSH: Giska, you too.

Giska joins them.

I assume you’re done with her now, Lunchbox.

JI: Actually, Warchief, we still–

GARROSH: My trainee, your student, I outrank you, done, boom.

JI: Oh bother…

GARROSH: <handing the paper to Giska> Okay, you three. Zip over to the market by Grommash Hold and pick up the stuff on this list for me.

KULKESH: Yes, sir!

GISKA: <scanning the list> Uh, just one thing, Captain. This looks like a lot — what do we do for money?

GARROSH: You tell the vendors you’re there on orders of the Warchief, and boy this is a nice little shop you’ve got here, and it sure would be a goddamn shame if somebody went and got blood stains all over it.

KORRINA: <clapping once and rubbing her hands together> Talkin’ my language, sir. On it!

GARROSH: Okay. Off with the lot of you.

While Giska, Korrina, and Kulkesh run off, Faranell enters, sporting a jaw that’s conspicuously mismatched with the rest of his face.

LIADRIN: Doctor! Good afternoon. You’re looking… um… well.

MOKVAR: Edwin! It’s good to see… see you… erm… you… Uh, yeah… so I guess we’ve both gone through some changes since last time I saw you, but…

SHAYARI: Difference is, Beardy, your changes get a lot less obvious once you dip into the back of your closet…

FARANELL: Ah, yes, the ideal person to comment on the current state of my appearance.

SHAYARI: Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t know how to duck fast enough, Eddie!

GARROSH: Hey, Doc, you…

Garrosh stares at Faranell a moment.

Okay, so…

Garrosh stares a moment longer.

I know I might end up regretting I asked this, but…

FARANELL: It’s a loaner. I’m just using it while my regular jaw is in the shop.

hordeironchef3

GARROSH: I… see.

MOKVAR: Gotta say, Edwin, you Forsaken have a really weird way of life sometimes.

FARANELL: Fancy that, that a community of reanimated corpses might have certain oddities in their cultural norms.

MOKVAR: Uh… right.

SALANDRIA: Wait, his… his jaw is in the shop? Did I hear that right?

LIADRIN: Yes, Dr. Faranell had a bit of an incident involving his jaw.

FARANELL: Yes, much in the same sense that Theramore had something of an incident involving the Focusing Iris.

SALANDRIA: What happened?

GARROSH: Oh geez, here we go…

FARANELL: Mana bomb.

SALANDRIA: No, not that!

GARROSH: Oh for FUCK’S sake.

SALANDRIA: I know that part! I mean your jaw!

SHAYARI: Cue the QQ. Or, you know, Q^3.

FARANELL: Suffice to say that my freshly harvested and installed jaw suffered some structural damage when I attempted to dissuade my would-be erstwhile apprentice from racing after her newly discovered father to a ruined dragon’s lair.

SHAYARI: And you know, there isn’t one single part of that sentence that would be possible if any of us led normal lives.

FARANELL: And, incidentally, just to put the button on the whole sordid affair, I am still waiting for certain reimbursements to be made.

GARROSH: Oh, for fuck’s sake. I… okay, FINE. After we’re done with the whole noodle thing here, I’ll get your damn gold. Are you fucking HAPPY now?

FARANELL: Beside myself with delirium. Bear in mind, also, that in light of the time that’s passed, certain sums of interest have accrued.

GARROSH: Fucking hell, are you kidding me? INTEREST now?!

SPAZZLE: Hey, don’t look at me. He came up with that on his own.

GARROSH: Please don’t tell me you trudged out here just to be a pain in the ass over this.

FARANELL: Oh hardly.

GARROSH: Yeah, good.

FARANELL: I’m a mage. I can teleport. I didn’t have to trudge at all.

Speaking of trudging, Malkorok returns doing just that, with Garrosh’s extra pot of noodles still in hand.

SHAYARI: Anyhow, I don’t think Eddie popped over to join the party, Pops.

Malkorok approaches Garrosh’s station and drops his pot on the counter.

MALKOROK: <aside> I’ve spoken to the guards who were charged with overseeing this area.

MOKVAR: Well, if I remember right, undead don’t really have that much of a sense of taste, so…

GARROSH: <aside> Good. What did they have to say for themselves?

MALKOROK: <aside> Very little. I’ll speak to their widows tomorrow.

SALANDRIA: Oh wow, you can’t taste anything? That must suck.

GARROSH: <aside> Yeah, send them a ham or something.

FARANELL: Not quite. We Forsaken have a sense of taste, just a muted one. It’s why I typically favor spicy foods, since the stronger flavors are more perceptible.

GARROSH: Huh. Well, in that case, Doc, you’re probably gonna like these. <spoons out a serving from his pot> These ought to have enough of a kick that you should–

Garrosh starts to hand the bowl to Faranell; as he does, Deliana unstealths and grabs it from Garrosh’s hand.

DELIANA: Another helping? Don’t mind if I do!

Deliana stealths again and vanishes.

MALKOROK: What–?!

GARROSH: Um.

MOKVAR: Don’t look at me.

GARROSH: <spinning back to Malkorok> HEY, MALK, IT SURE WOULD BE AWESOME IF WE HAD A LITTLE SECURITY IN THE FUCKING CAPITAL CITY!

MALKOROK: <grumbling> Yes, sir… I’ll be back again…

Malkorok starts to storm off, passing Mokvar.

One day you’ll be called to account for your odious taste in friends, scribe.

MOKVAR: I don’t know where you got the idea we were friends.

Malkorok grumbles more and marches off.

GARROSH: Okay, well, I’ll hook you up with another serving in a second here, Doc…

FARANELL: No need, really. I’m mainly here for work reasons.

GARROSH: Work reasons? How?

MOKVAR: You’ve known him long enough that you should probably know better than to ask that question.

FARANELL: Research, and potential sample collection. I figured that at an event like this, someone was bound to produce something usefully toxic, just by the law of averages.

GARROSH: Ah.

JI: Oh, no, Dr. Edwin, I can assure you everyone here is being very careful with their food.

FARANELL: Yes, I suppose, but one can always hope.

Faranell reaches into his cloak and produces an empty vial.

Now don’t mind me; I’m just going to hover around a bit in case someone — cross fingers — turns green.

MOKVAR: Hmph. Or turns chalky white and drops dead?

FARANELL: Touche.

GARROSH: By the way, Lunchbox, are there any kind of prizes for this shindig? Any judges who’ll be coming around that I should be looking to impress and not at all threaten with physical violence, no not at all?

JI: No, sir, no prizes. The only competition in an event like this is with oneself!

GARROSH: Yeah, I should have figured you pandas would be a little too touchy-feely for a straight-up contest.

JI: Not so! The Noodle Festival is meant to be a day of community and sharing, yes, but there’s a long Pandaren tradition of competitive cooking as well!

MOKVAR: You guys really do take your food seriously, don’t you?

SPAZZLE: You wouldn’t have to ask that if you’d been with us shopping this morning.

LIADRIN: What kind of cooking contests do you have, Ji?

JI: Well, one of our most honored customs is… well, the name doesn’t quite translate precisely, but I suppose the nearest approximation would be… “Iron Chef.” It’s a competition in which challengers are given a secret ingredient without notice and must prepare a gourmet meal with it in a limited window of time.

SPAZZLE: That actually sounds kind of cool.

MOKVAR: Spazz, you live on cheap take-out.

SPAZZLE: I know, but this has a whole mad scientist angle that I can appreciate.

FARANELL: Indeed, not to mention that rushed food preparation leaves ample room for hazardous contaminants to come into play. Not that anyone would wish for such a terrible thing, of course.

JI: Based on how well the festival is being received, perhaps we could adapt the competition for the Horde as well!

MOKVAR: Sort of a Horde Iron Chef? Or… Iron Horde Chef? Or… I don’t know, something like that, I guess.

GARROSH: I don’t know about the contest, but fuck, I LOVE the ring of “Iron Horde” — that sounds fucking BADASS, dude.

SHAYARI: Maybe you should look into rebranding, Pops.

GARROSH: MAYBE I SHOULD.

Dontrag, Utvoch, and Taktani enter, carrying boxes.

Don’t think I won’t get right on that shit and…

Dontrag et al start putting their boxes down at the station next to Garrosh.

And…

UTVOCH: Greetings, Warchief!

GARROSH: <turns to Ji> You’re fucking kidding me, right?

TAKTANI: Ooh everybody’s here! And we get to be next to Mr. Warchief! This is going to be so fun! Yay!

GARROSH: Oh fuck me…

RUEKIE: <aside> Oh, sure, he says that and nobody bats an eye…

DONTRAG: A pleasure to see you as always, your supreme Warchieferousness, sir!

GARROSH: Maybe if I don’t make eye contact they’ll assume I don’t know they’re there…

UTVOCH: Sir?

TAKTANI: Mr. Warchief?

JI: Yes, sir. <turning to Dontrag and Utvoch> Well then, Utvoch… Dontrag…

DONTRAG: I’m Dontrag. He’s Utvoch.

UTVOCH: Oh man. I knew I should have brought the letter…

JI: Oh. Okay. Well, your cooking station is ready. I’m looking forward to finding out what you’re making for us!

DONTRAG: Yeah, so are we.

JI: Pardon?

UTVOCH: Well, we don’t really have a recipe that we’re using.

JI: Oh…?

MOKVAR: Uh oh…

DONTRAG: We don’t know any noodle recipes, so we figured we’d just grab a bunch of ingredients and see what we could come up with on the fly!

GARROSH: Yeah, I don’t see any way that this could go wrong…

FARANELL: Now now, let’s not be hasty. I may be about to hit pay dirt.

TAKTANI: Oh hiiiiii Dr. Zombie!

FARANELL: Oh dear.

TAKTANI: I’m super happy to see you again!

Shayari giggles.

MOKVAR: Wait, she knows Edwin?

LIADRIN: I believe she met him a time or two when I first accompanied Shayari to Orgrimmar.

MOKVAR: And I missed this?

SHAYARI: I might possibly have maybe brought her with me a couple weeks ago when I went to the Undercity for a mage lesson, too. Possibly.

GARROSH: Oh, yeah, piss off the creditor even more.

TAKTANI: It was fun! I like Zombie Town! It’s kind of stinky, but that’s okay — it’s like a big haunted house! BOO! Hee hee!

SHAYARI: Kind of like it’s Hallow’s End all the time, right, Tak?

TAKTANI: I knowwwwww!

FARANELL: Must you encourage her?

GARROSH: Right there with you, Doc…

TAKTANI: Ooh! Ooh! Do you do Hallow’s End costumes in Zombie Town, Dr. Zombie? What are you going to be this year??

FARANELL: Far, far, away, Dark Lady permitting.

TAKTANI: Oh. <scratches her head> I don’t know what that looks like, but I bet it’ll be fun!

SHAYARI: You’ll have to go with me again so you can see, Tak!

TAKTANI: Yay! I get to come visit again! Won’t that be fun, Dr. Zombie?

FARANELL: Oh yes. My heart is utterly overflowing with joy.

TAKTANI: Yay! Hee hee!

FARANELL: Or possibly infectious bile. It’s hard to tell. My heart hasn’t beaten in over a decade, after all.

TAKTANI: <blinks> Huh?

FARANELL: Nothing to trouble yourself over. Just think of my heart as you would, say, your brain.

GARROSH: Lot of that going around with this crew, Doc.

DONTRAG: I don’t get it.

GARROSH: Case in point.

FARANELL: Indeed.

Giska, Korrina, and Kulkesh return with several large packages, which they put down at Garrosh’s station.

KULKESH: Good news, sir — Olvia just got some fresh talbuk steaks in.

GARROSH: <sorting through packages> Good deal. You kids get everything?

KORRINA: I think so, Captain. The vendors kind of fumbled their way through the whole order.

GISKA: Maybe next time don’t start breaking fingers right away?

KORRINA: Maybe next time mofos don’t get lippy.

GARROSH: Yeah, well, here, now that you’ve all earned your keep, have some grub.

Garrosh passes bowls of noodles to Giska, Korrina, and Kulkesh.

GISKA: Thanks, Captain!

KULKESH: Smells good, sir.

LIADRIN: I must say, Garrosh, I’m surprised — these are quite good.

GARROSH: Why is everyone always shocked out of their minds any time they find out I can do something other than punch people and scratch my ass?

MOKVAR: To be fair, you don’t exactly project complexity…

LIADRIN: You said these were a family recipe, Warchief?

GISKA: They’re not bad, Captain.

GARROSH: Kind of. I sort of improvised around something Greatmother used to make back in Nagrand.

LIADRIN: Did she teach you?

GARROSH: Not really, I just — what’s with you, Korrina? Something wrong with your food?

KORRINA: Uh, not really, sir. <poking awkwardly at her noodles with chopsticks> I mean, they look good, and they smell good… I’ll let you know how they taste once I figure out how to use these damn things.

KULKESH: They’re a little awkward at first, yeah, but they’re not so bad once you get used to them.

SHAYARI: <reaching back and adjusting the chopsticks in her hair> Oh, hey, is that what these things are supposed to be for? I was wondering why they were giving them out.

Korrina starts to pick up some noodles with her chopsticks, only to have them slip loose and drop back into her bowl.

KORRINA: Ugh — yeah, this isn’t so bad at all

GISKA: No no, try like this… see, you keep one of them balanced against your thumb, and…

Korrina takes another stab at her food with the chopsticks, but loses her grip, sending one chopstick — and most of the noodles she was picking up — spilling onto the ground.

KORRINA: Dammit! <throws her other chopstick down> Oh hell with it…

Korrina reaches over to Ruekie and snaps one of the ornamental forks off of her shoulder guards, then uses it to pick up some noodles.

RUEKIE: Hey!

KORRINA: There.

RUEKIE: Aw, man

hordeironchef4

DONTRAG: Uh, Ut, what did you put into those?

UTVOCH: Huh? I didn’t put anything. I just cooked the noodles.

DONTRAG: But they’re all gooey or something.

TAKTANI: That was me, Mr. D!

UTVOCH: You added something? What did you put in there?

TAKTANI: Cheese!

DONTRAG: Wait, what? Cheese doesn’t… I mean, how does that even work?

TAKTANI: <blinks> Um… I like cheese!

UTVOCH: You know, this doesn’t smell half bad…

TAKTANI: So noodles are good, and cheese is good, so now they can all be good together!

DONTRAG: Tak, you can’t just… I mean, who puts cheese in noodles?

TAKTANI: I’d take it out if you want, Mr. D, but it’s all melty now!

UTVOCH: It actually smells pretty good…

DONTRAG: Noodles and cheese? Really?

UTVOCH: <eating some of the noodles> Donty, seriously, try some of this…

TAKTANI: Do you like it? Yay!

KULKESH: Hey, you know, that does smell pretty good over there…

While Kulkesh, Korrina, and Giska make their way over to Dontrag and Utvoch’s station, Malkorok returns.

MALKOROK: I’ve put additional patrols around the gates, Warchief. It would of course be easier if so many of these… people… weren’t wandering around, but it should suffice for now.

GARROSH: Yeah, well, we can’t exactly barricade off half the city.

MALKOROK: Yes, sir.

KULKESH: Oh wow, this really does taste good!

GISKA: Noodles and cheese — who would’ve guessed?

Ji leans over Dontrag, Utvoch, and Taktani’s pot while Gurtash, Ruekie, and Salandria gather around.

JI: <sniffing> Ooh, a triumphant culinary experiment, I see! Don’t mind if I try some myself…

Ji reaches over Dontrag’s shoulder and scoops some noodles into his (cartoonishly oversized) bowl.

GARROSH: What the… does that crap even have any damn MEAT in it?

TAKTANI: Oh don’t worry, Mr. Warchief! Nobody had to hurt any poor animals for this!

GARROSH: For fuck’s sake, the murder’s the tastiest part!

MOKVAR: I don’t know, boss, looks like they’re starting to draw a following.

Spazzle eyes the passersby who have started to gather around D&U&T’s station, then leans up to try to peek in their pot.

SPAZZLE: Huh… Uh, Tak?

TAKTANI: Hi, Mr. Goblin!

SPAZZLE: Uh, yeah, hi. So… what kind of cheese did you put in there?

TAKTANI: Oh, nothing fancy, Mr. Goblin. Just regular old cheddar!

SPAZZLE: Huh… that stuff barely costs a few silver…

TAKTANI: We could use another kind if you’d like it more!

SPAZZLE: No, it’s not that, just… Uh, Utvoch? Aren’t those noodles the kind they have in those little packets from Pandaria?

UTVOCH: Oh, yeah, that’s why I got them. They’re crazy cheap — they’re only something like eight copper a pack, so you can get a ton of them and barely spend anything.

SPAZZLE: Yeah, uh, that’s what I thought.

Spazzle looks at the growing line, then thinks a moment.

So… how would you guys feel about a business venture…?

UTVOCH: Uh… maybe?

GARROSH: Okay, fuck it, I have to see what the big fucking deal is with this crap.

Garrosh shoves Utvoch out of the way and scoops some of the noodles and cheese into a bowl.

It doesn’t even SMELL like anything special, I don’t know why there’s people coming out of the damn woodwork to–

Deliana unstealths and lifts the bowl out of Garrosh’s hands.

DELIANA: Oh, you need a taste tester? Sure thing, Garry!

Deliana stealths again and disappears.

GARROSH: <spinning back to Malkorok> WHAT AM I PAYING YOU FOR?!

 

So, you know. That went about as well as anything else I fucking try to do around here. I really might have to look into that “Iron Horde” thing, though. It seriously does sound fucking badass.

More soon.

 

A day in the life

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So, the last few mailbags have gotten me thinking. I’ve been getting a bunch of questions about pretty regular day-to-day things in my life — nuts and bolts about what I do and why. Just another part of being a celebrity, I guess, and a pretty damn awesome one at that. Point is, with all the crazy crap that goes on around here, I think I might have gotten so busy keeping everyone updated on the BIG NEWSY stuff that I haven’t bothered talking about anything else. Which, you know, was kind of the POINT of writing the damn blog in the first place. You know. THOUGHTS AND MUSINGS AND SHIT.

Well, maybe not shit. Not literally. Because gross.

Point is, though, I’m going to try to be a little better about posting on the NON-BIG-GIANT-WORLD-ALTERING stuff that’s going on or that I have in mind or whatever. So, for those of you interested in more of an inside look at what it’s like to be me (short version: way better than it is to be you), here, have a peek into a sample of a day in the life of everyone’s favorite Warchief.

(That would be ME, you UNGRATEFUL SMARTASSES out there.)

 

8:09 AM – Woke up. Rolled out of bed. Pulled razor across my head. (I try to be diligent about shaving. Wouldn’t be a big deal if I only had some stubble on my FACE — the tattoos would make it hard to see anyway — but if it starts getting visible on top, you start seeing what a bad draw I got as far as middle-aged hairlines go. I’ll tell you, my mother’s side of the family must have had some fucking awful hair, because I sure as hell didn’t get mine from Grom.)

8:16 AM – Morning jog around Grommash Hold. Worked up good sweat but noticed several vendors conspicuously absent. Unable to amuse self by slapping them on the way by. Possibly vendors getting wise. Two years later. Never said they were sharpest tools. Disappointing nonetheless. Post-slap reactions always good for chuckle. Especially troll.

8:43 AM – Bacon. Also: more bacon.

8:51 AM – Kafa. Really not bad at all. Maybe should have listened to Ruekie about Starbulls earlier. Remember to check with her about other blends later. Potential application of haste buff stacking with Recklessness.

9:00 AM – Budget review meeting with Eitrigg. Gramps raised some concerns about an increase in the “Warchief discretionary spending” category. Don’t even get me started.

10:00 AM – Staff meeting with Malkorok, Overlord Runthak, and Overseer Elaglo. Updates on a number of projects, plus a few security oddities from Malk. Mokvar working with Xorenth today, so Taktani recording notes. Malkorok less than pleased. Can’t really blame him. Some sensitive topics, so not publishing transcript.

11:32 AM – On way out after meeting, had to suffer through, and minimize, small talk with Dontrag. Or Utvoch. Not sure. Apparently waiting for Tak after meeting. Luckily escaped when she came out.

11:36 AM – Note to self: Check on which one of D&U is which.

11:37 AM – Followup note to self: Don’t really give shit which is which. Disregard previous.

11:45 AM – Shayari gets back from morning of mage training with Faranell in Undercity. As per recommendation, Doc showed her Ice Block today. Apparently never bothered picking it up because she’s a fire mage. Dalaran, Shmalaran. Don’t know what those fuckers were teaching her.

Shay also delivered (another) invoice from Faranell for his jaw replacement. Can’t possibly really be that expensive. Also not crazy about Materials; “headhunting” and acquisition line item. Bad feeling about this.

12:20 PM – Lunch at Broken Tusk. Pretty good special, “Agamaggan’s pulled pork.” Needs bacon, though. Then again, what doesn’t?

12:36 PM – While eating, interrupted by Dontrag. Or Utvoch. Not sure. Not the one from earlier. Other one. Yammered on about something. Difficult to follow as I wasn’t listening. Can only assume that sounds of me eating sounded to him like “Tell me about your life.” Really crossed the line, though, when he started going on and on about wanting to set up a double date for him and the other one.* Thought of those two on dates led to prospect of them breeding. Lost appetite at that point and left. See, proves my point about bacon. Would have still been worth it in that case.

* Not with me. Double date for them and two someones (sometwos?) else. Not me. Even bacon couldn’t have salvaged that shit if so.

1:30 PM – Combat drills with trainees. Focus today on defensive maneuvers, parrying, mitigation skills. Overall decent performance. Korrina still a little reckless. Rook possibly a little too quick to hit “oh shit” buttons, but growing more adept at self-heals. Bodes well for group use, maybe occasional off-healing. Giska doing well with unarmed combat, blocking especially, skill less successful while using a weapon. Possibly check with Lunchbox on this. Tuekie, Zorekk coming along well, performance gap remains but growing less conspicuous. Mirembe and Tov’osh still on training maneuvers in Northrend.

3:00 PM – Extra melee practice with Gurtash. Trying to ease him back in but he’s still a little slow to pick things back up. Very hesitant. Hit accuracy seems uncompromised by injury, so that’s good. Kept to short session today. Don’t want to discourage him but combat skills need to take major step forward if he’s to perform honorably. And survive. More side sessions to follow.

4:00 PM – Hop onto Earth Online. Not going to bother logging guild chat — only getting on for a few minutes to check auctions and knock out a few dailies, then I’ll be logging off.

6:11 PM – Finally logged off of Earth Online. Man. Game really goes have a way of sucking you in and burning the day. Didn’t even really do anything especially fun. Didn’t even really do much of ANYTHING. Two hours gone anyway. How the hell does Genesis do it? Check on this — could have potential mind control / military applications. Make mental note for next meeting with Blackfuse and/or Draz’Zilb. And of course, Shay had to pop in and snarky comments about nerdy gaming. Again.

6:20 PM – Tried to take Shay to this new barbecue place over in the Drag for dinner. When we arrived, found Dontrag and Utvoch there.

Positive: Both there, so no need to worry about who’s who.

Negative: Both there.

Double negative: Don’t CARE who’s who, which cancels out positive above. (Math nerds: Yes, in this case double negative cancels the positive and not the negatives. Don’t get panties in a bunch. Also: HEAD HURTS.)

Triple negative: They were chatty.

6:22 PM – Got the fuck out of there and headed home. I’ll send for takeout, dammit. Fuck that noise. (Literal noise.)

6:27 PM – Passed by Kodohide Leatherworkers on way home. Had to drag Shay away to avoid shopping spree. She stuck head in doorway, entire staff greeted her by name. Fuck me.

7:21 PM – Shay tries to conjure lemon squares for dessert. Not something that usually promises much success but she decides she wants to try it anyway. Goes about as well as you might expect.

7:34 PM – Leave note for repair crew to come by tomorrow to take care of damage to kitchen. Not looking forward to bill. Also make mental note to talk to Faranell about the lemon square thing or failure thereof. What the hell am I paying for. Remember this next time he tries griping about the bill for his damn jaw.

 

Training wheels

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So now that Gurtash is up and about again — mostly — I can finally stop worrying about WHETHER he’s waking up, and get back to a few pieces of business involving him that have been on the shelf for a while now. Side note, by the way — I don’t know who was more relieved when the kid finally came around, me or the healers I had working on him. I might possibly have said something that left them with the impression that if Gurtash didn’t recover, they might be staring down the barrel of a “physician, heal thyself” type of situation, promptly followed by a “dead man, bury thyself” type of situation.

Anyhow, moot point, now that the kid is awake and mostly mended. The healers tell me he’s going to need a little more recovery time, but that doesn’t have to stop me from doing some planning for his training regimen going forward. Because obviously, the fact that he wound up where he was means I haven’t been doing a good enough job whipping him into shape with the warrioring. Which is kind of strange, seeing as I was giving him combat pointers, off and on, before the trainee program even started, and yet, somehow, he’s ended up being less advanced than a bunch of the other kids. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he’s got no skills whatsoever — he’s got some pretty good aim when it comes to precision strikes, which lots of people struggle with early on, and he moves around well in combat. Generally. When he’s not, you know, getting blindsided by spectral spook dudes. But, speaking of that, he also has all kinds of problems keeping his guard up, and…well, a bunch of issues.

Meanwhile, we have other trainees in his unit who’ve come a lot further a lot faster. I’m not even going to count Korrina, because hell, she comes from the fucking Saurfang family tree, and let’s face it, good luck to the first lumberjack who to get any bright ideas about THAT tree, because the tree would take one chop the lumberjack and then cleave his fucking head clean OFF. With a branch. Which would also somehow be an axe.

So, yeah, not even counting Korrina. But then you’ve got kids like Kulkesh, who’s been shaping up really well with the dual wielding — which served me pretty damn well back in the day before I had Gorehowl passed to me — and even Mirembe, who’s been bouncing around on training assignments since she wasn’t able to come to Pandaria, and seems to embracing the whole shield-slam-tanky thing. Or even someone like Giska, who isn’t even a warrior but has some pretty good moves from her whole Kung-Fu-Panda monk business, and by the way I seriously need to get her to show me how to do that crazy knock-you-out-cold neck pinch thing.

Anyway, point being, I need to come up with something to do with the kid to get him caught up, so this stuff doesn’t keep happening. I might try talking to Lantresor while I’m at it, see if he’s got any suggestions for alternate training methods. He’s pretty seriously badass in his own right and he must have had to train a few apprentice blademasters in his day, so we’ll have to see.

But, there’s still time to worry about calling in Lantresor. I can start easing him back into training by myself the next few days, then go from there. For the time being, it’s just as well for me to lay off and let Gurtash get himself recovered. In the meantime, we were finally able to get around to one other bit of business that was on the shelf for too long.

Some of you might remember that a few weeks ago, one of our kennel masters here in Orgrimmar, Ogunaro Wolfrunner, wrote in to my mailbag and offered one of the wolves he’d been raising — a young worg named Grimjaw — to serve in the Kor’kron mounted forces. He’s a fine wolf. Strong and agile like Ogunaro promised. Still a little on the small side, but then he IS still pretty young, with some more growing to do. But that just puts him that much further ahead of the game.

I brought Gurtash down to the Kor’kron stables earlier today. What with the good job he’s done helping take care of Mortimer the last year or so, I told him, it made sense for him to have a mount of his own to take care of. He was going to be coming up on his riding training soon anyway, so I figured he might as well start right off with the worg he’d be riding for a while. A young one, barely past being a pup — not unlike the kid himself — that could grow with him. Hopefully for a good long while. Well, for however long worgs live, anyway.

I’d planned to give Grimjaw to Gurtash ever since Ogunaro offered him. Obviously, that plan ended up having a big monkey wrench thrown into it for a while, what with Gurtash’s whole fiasco up in Blackrock Spire. As it turns out, though, having the kid out of commission for a couple weeks might have been a blessing in disguise. The one thing I’d been concerned about with Gimjaw was whether he would take to Gurtash. Worgs are pretty strong-willed by nature, and even as a young one, Grimjaw was pretty strong and formidable. And seeing as Gurtash wasn’t exactly an experienced rider yet, it made sense to be a little wary about what would happen if Grimjaw was standoffish and Gurtash maybe tried to force himself on the wolf too much too soon. While Gurtash was out cold, though, I took the opportunity to try to stack the deck for him. After the first few days the kid was resting, I had the healers swap out one of his blankets. I took it over to the stables, and used it to line the bedding in Grimjaw’s stall. Every few days after that, when they changed Gurtash’s sheets, I did the same. Kept a fresh-ish blanket with Grimjaw. Let him pick up the kid’s scent.

It ended up paying off. When I brought Gurtash over to the stables, Grimjaw was napping on his pile of furs and blankets. When he woke up, he made his way over to Gurtash and started sniffing at him. He warmed right up to the kid and kept hovering around near him the whole time we were there. Well, the whole time I was there. After a little while, I needed to go to get to a meeting with Overlord Runthak. At that point, I was going to take Gurtash back over to the Valley of Wisdom to drop him off… only he was too busy playing around with Grimjaw to notice me trying to get his attention. So I figured I’d let him hang out there while I went to my meeting. It was a secure building, after all, with Kor’kron all over the place, so it’s not like he wouldn’t be safe enough by himself.

I was gone for a couple of hours. When I went back to pick him up, he was still at it with the wolf. This time they were running around together in the fenced-in pen they have out back, chasing each other in circles. Gurtash had managed to grab a pigskin somewhere, and every so often he’d toss it across the pen and let Grimjaw take off after it. He didn’t even notice I’d come back at first, so I just hung back and watched them for a little while.

When I finally rounded him up to head back to the Valley of Wisdom, he spent the whole walk over asking me about coming back to the stables tomorrow, and when he can get started on his riding training. Even when I tried to go over the plan for his return to combat training, the kid kept dragging it back to riding instead. Guess I can’t blame him. I dropped him off and checked in with the healers, then tried stopping by the orphanage to see about some other leftover business. Matron Battlewail wasn’t around, though, so I guess I’ll have to try again some other time.

Pretty good day overall, I gotta say. Pretty good.

More soon.

 

[Header image provided by Khizzara from Blog of the Treant, used here with permission and many thanks.]

 

Monday mailbag

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Another mailbag, another chance for someone to annoy the living daylights out of me. So let’s get right to it and see what’s going to piss me off this time around…

 

Lok’tar Sir,

Man, am I glad to be done with my tour in Outland. Nagrand was beautiful and all, but Netherstorm had too many whiny elves and weird bandage guys. And it was too purple. Way too purple. It was good to return to Orgrimmar for a while, and even better to see the place finished! Guess you showed those goblin contractors, huh?

Of course, being home was good and all, but what the fuuuuhhhc-flip happened to Gurtash?! THIS IS WHY HAVING A MEATSHIELD IS A VERY GOOD IDEA! YOU KNOW, LIKE ME? It was good to see him, and the others in the DPS for a little while anyway (even if Gurtash was unconscious the whole time). I still can’t believe I missed him waking up, too! I wish that transport to Northrend came a few days later.

Anyway, you can probably guess where I am now, and even at your old command post! I can’t believe I got to meet THE Saurfang! He’s…not as tall as I thought he’d be, but that’s okay! I still met him and he shook my hand and *the letter goes on a bit in hastily scribbled and barely-decipherable fangirling*. Oh! He did seem kinda grumpy when I brought up that I was in your training group. What’s the deal with that, anyway?

I hope that things stay quiet while I’m up here. And if I’m needed for, like, tanky things, please please PLEASE tell me! The DPS can’t wait forever for a tank, right?

–Mirembe

Hoo boy. Here we go with a new spastic fangirl flipping the hell out because she met Saurfang. I’m not kidding, Mira, you should talk to Ruekie sometime. You two could start a club or something. You could be president, Rook could be vice-president. Or vice versa. Hell, Mokvar could probably be freaking treasurer. You could have your own secret handshake and everything. Although that would probably just consist of one of you saying “Saurfang!” and then the other one would be like “I know!” and then you both just flail and squeal for six minutes.

And you know, you’re right about the whole tanky thing, but dude, don’t act like I’M the one holding up the works. The whole reason the DPS is “waiting” on a tank is because the TANK is keeping them waiting while she gets her field training caught up to where they are! What’s next? Are you going to keep them waiting some more, then show up and be like, oh, oops, I need to run back to town and see a blacksmith because my armor’s all banged up and I didn’t think to take care of that before I came out here? Or maybe you can show up and go racing through the mission site as if there’s an outhouse at the end of it and OH MAN did you have an extra-potent heaping helping of chili for dinner. Is that what they get to look forward to?

So, yeah, punch line: STOP YAPPING AND GET YOUR SHIT IN GEAR, DAMMIT.

On the plus side, even though you missed it, Gurtash IS up and doing better. The healers are going to need to check on him for a little while, but he should be okay. UNTIL NEXT TIME. MAYBE SOME TANK SHOULD FINISH HER TRAINING LEVELS BEFORE THEN. TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK.

 

I’d like a package of all the blue crayons for myself, and one pack of nothin’ bu da the “trolls be trollin'” for Bob. I’d been wondering what ta get him as a present for an upcoming event, and it turn out I be saved by Garrosh’s mail bag.

–Alayea

Huh. Gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting people to jump on the crayon bandwagon so quickly, but what the hell, merchandising cash is merchandising cash. So you know what, Alayea? You’re on. One package of blues, and… oh, why not? Here, on top of the blue crayons I showed off last mailbag, go ahead and take a few bonus shades:

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There you go. As for the “trolls be trollin’” pack… well, okay, I’ll send them, but I’m going to warn you: when you get that package, don’t touch it with your bare hands. Seeing as I know it’s going to that Bob guy, I might possibly have to see about Faranell doing… something special with those crayons before I send them out. Or failing that, mix in a little, ahem, gift from Mortimer. Or both. I’ll improvise something. Because fuck that Bob guy.

Anyhow, crayons on the way. Apparently this merchandising thing might bring in a few gold after all. Who knew WCB crayons would be the thing to take off? Hell, what else could I cash in on? Kafa mugs? T-shirts? Hey, how about a nice Warchief-approved bumper sticker for your chopper or whatever? Here, have at it:

bumper1

Hell, maybe I should let Spazzle put those action figures of his into production after all. Maybe giving people the chance to own their very own miniature plastic ME would get the gold pouring on in. (Dammit, I should probably rephrase that last part. Garona’s probably gonna get all excited now. FUCK, where’s the delete key again?!)

 

Hail, Warchief,

It’s good to hear that Grimjaw has settled in well at the stables.  Whatever task you have in store for him, I hope he serves you well.  

In response to your question about my children, they are aware of the trainee program, but my daughter is only 8 years old, so I’m not sure she’s ready for that, and my son has no interest in it. He’s been practising his axe-skills for some time now and is riding Blackfang daily to bond with her before he faces his om’riggor. He’s proclaimed he’s going to become a mounted warrior and follow his Thunderlord heritage. I’ve tried telling him several times that mounted combat is actually a Warsong tradition and if he really wants to follow his clan traditions he should take up the spear and become a hunter, but he won’t listen to me. Whenever I point this out to him he just grunts and says, “My strength would be wasted on hunting beasts when the animals who killed mother still walk free.” It worries me that he’ll get himself killed trying to hunt down Detanga’s killers.

At least my daughter has taken a less violent path. I was able to talk her into walking the path of restoration magic, and now she’s an apprentice of a shaman trainer in the Valley of Wisdom, Kardris Dreamseeker. She recently mentioned helping her teacher care for Gurtash, a boy from your trainee program who was grievously wounded in battle – on which subject, my condolences, Warchief – and how she’s been having some small conversations with him to pass the time. While he still has a great deal of healing ahead of him, I’m sure he will be fine.

I wish that was all the news I had, but unfortunately I have more news to report of Golmash and his strange green eyes. It seems I was right to suspect something – his behaviour has become more noticably erratic. When my son and I give them meat for food, Golmash is very discerning; where most wolves would simply eat the meat as it was, he refuses to eat anything except the softest part of the meat. I constantly find him gazing blankly outside the wolfpen, refusing to be with or socialise with the other wolves. On one very strange occasion, I was about to sell a fine young Nagrandeur wolf to a rather darkly-dressed shaman when Golmash came up behind me and growled loudly. The most bizarre part, Warchief, is that the growling was… layered. Otherworldy. Like listening to my daughter playing around in her ghost wolf form. Suffice it to say,the shaman left in a hurry. I attempted to reprimand him but he bared his fangs and took a stance that looked ready to lunge at my throat; I didn’t live this long by taking foolish risks, so I let him go back to the other wolves.

Warchief, I am now thoroughly concerned. I’ve had him looked at and examined by vets, shamans, mages and trained medics and no one can seem to pick up a reason for his behaviour. No sickness, no disease, no curse – there is no logical reason whatsoever. I almost laughed at the idea that the wolf Skychaser and Ner’zhul by proxy had something to do with all this… now, I’m not so sure I should laugh about it.

My apologies, Warchief. I fear I really have drawn your grandfather’s name into a dark and uncertain situation.

–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master

Hey, Ogunaro, good to hear from you again. So, a few points for you. A quick one first — I should have an update for you on Grimjaw soon. As I’ve mentioned, I’ve looked in on him a few times at the Kor’kron stables, and he seems to be settled in pretty well. Still seems like he has a little growing to do, but he’s a young wolf, as you’ve said, and he’s already stronger than a lot of others that are already full-sized. All of which adds up to an overall bright future for him. Again… updates on him soon.

Now, as for our OTHER wolf situation… Yeah, I don’t like the sound of this at all. Like…at ALL. I can’t say I’ve got any solid answers right now, but there’s definitely something fishy going on with this worg. So, here’s our starting point: right off, I want you to isolate Golmash. Keep him in a separate pen that will give him plenty of room to move around and do his normal wolfy things, but will also keep him completely separate from the other wolves. Until we know for sure what’s behind all this, I don’t want to take any chances with the others — whether it’s Golmash getting riled up and attacking them, or somehow spreading whatever it is that’s affecting him. I know you said you couldn’t find any diseases or curses or whatever, but there’s obviously SOMETHING happening with this wolf, so until we know for sure what it is, I don’t want to rule ANYTHING out. Matter of fact, just to be safe, I’m going to send a couple Kor’kron beastmasters over to give a hand moving him. I’m sure you’re plenty capable, Ogunaro, but it doesn’t hurt to have a couple other people who know a thing or two about animals on hand to help keep you covered.

So that’s step one. As for step two, for your purposes it’s going to consist mostly of holding tight for the time being. I’m going to see about sending someone over to have another look at Golmash. I know you said you’ve already had him examined by healers and shaman and so forth, but the person I have in mind has a pretty particular set of skills and experience that might be kind of useful in this case. So, hold down the fort and help should be on the way soon. We’ll get to the bottom of this one way or another.

Okay, so, now that that’s covered, on to one last item: your son and his om’riggor preparations and whatnot. So, just so I’m clear here… how old is your son? The reason I ask is because, well, you said that he “has no interest” in the military trainee program, and that’s all well and good… but the program isn’t exactly voluntary. When we put it into effect some months ago, the whole point of it was to recruit all able-bodied orcs aged fourteen and up. Well, up to seventeen, technically, but past that age I would figure they would already have passed their om’riggor and be out serving the Horde in some capacity. Anyhow, I don’t know if you just never got the memo about this, or maybe the notification wasn’t clear enough, in which case, yeesh, someone must have really dropped the ball writing it up, which means now I need to go crack down on some motherfuckers over in the public relations department. Which means I need to go find out if we have a public relations department. Goddamn, being Warchief is a lot of work. ANYHOW.

Point is, interested or not, chances are your son should already BE in the trainee program. But, before you start flipping out and panicking, I think this might actually be a blessing in disguise. You say your son’s hell-bent on avenging his mother’s death, but you’re worried he might run off and do something foolhardy. Well, here’s a win-win situation for everyone: you can pitch the whole trainee gig as a way for him to hone his skills so he’ll be that much MORE ready to kick some Alliance ass… but at the same time, he’ll be under the direct supervision of a veteran Horde soldier. Which means, he’ll always be under the watchful eye of someone who’s been around long enough to know the difference between seizing glory and courting disaster. No going off the radar, no reckless suicide missions, no surprises. And then, when he’s ready — really ready — he’ll get that chance to make the Alliance pay.

In the meantime, too, I can see about getting him into a group with a Thunderlord veteran. If you want. That way, he can get some exposure to traditional Thunderlord combat methods, work on his spear work and hunting prowess, that sort of thing. Not that you’re not perfectly capable of teaching him yourself, Ogunaro, but he might be a little more receptive if it’s coming from a fresh voice. Failing that, if he’s really got his heart set on mounted combat, I can see about getting him some Warsong supervision. That last option would be easy enough for me to swing, seeing as how I kinda have a smidgen of influence in that particular clan.

 

Dearest Warchief,

I have a question for you about Orc physiology! I’ve noticed that many Orcs such as yourself don’t have eyebrows. While others, like Garona or Gurtash do. Is there a reason for this? Are eyebrows a genetic trait that some Orcs have, and others don’t? Is eyebrow plucking simply a fashionable thing among many Orcs?

Your ever curious reader,

–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City

Curious about orc physiology, huh, Tandeleina? Is that what you’re calling it these days? Okay. I’ll buy that.

I’m just gonna leave this here: #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh.

Now, to answer your question.

You know, I actually hear this all the time, and it’s really not that hard to put together if you pay attention. You’re right, some orcs have eyebrows and some don’t. But if you look closely, there’s a much clearer pattern to it. See, all orcs have eyebrows as children. Just drop by the Orgrimmar orphanage, or, hell, check any of Gurtash’s drawings of the DPS trainees. Once they reach adolescence, though, male orcs start to lose their eyebrows. It usually corresponds with the appearance of facial hair — the beard starts coming in, and the eyebrows start thinning out. Don’t ask me to explain what’s different between eyebrow follicles and beard follicles, but there you go. Case in point, actually, is Kulkesh from the DPS. He’s starting to get some stubble, and if you take a close look at him, you can see he’s also starting to lose his eyebrows. Eventually the same will happen to Gurtash. Orc women, on the other hand, don’t lose their eyebrows. They keep them all their lives. It’s only adult orc men who don’t have them.

As for why it works out this way, I’m guessing it has something to do with the changes in male orc body chemistry during puberty. Smart money says it’s the increase in testosterone that happens when we go from adolescence to adulthood. So testosterone causes orcs to lose their eyebrows. There you go.

And so, with that in mind, before anyone else chimes in to ask…

thrall5

I mean, you do the math. I’m just the messenger here. Science doesn’t lie, bitches.

 

That’s going to do it for this time around. Before I wrap up, though, one last note: Looks like we’ve got a bunch of people taking an interest in Gurtash. Which I guess isn’t surprising, what with the not-completely-low-grade freakout people had when that spectral assassin first smacked him down. But here, I’ve got an idea. Gurtash is still going to be resting up for a few days at least, maybe longer, while the healers make sure he’s fully recovered and good to go. So he could probably use a little something to distract himself with. SO, how about this — since that guest mailbag that Shayari did a few weeks back went over pretty well, let’s give the kid one of his own. This way you people can pass along your well-wishes and ask him whatever you want, directly. So get your letters for Gurtash to me over the next few days, then I’ll put up a BONUS mailbag with his responses.

Hmm. Does that mean I’m going to need to pick out a text color for HIM now? Fuck, I just keep making more work for myself. Mostly for Gurtash, granted, but also for me. Dammit.

 

[Garrosh’s next mailbag will be Monday, January 4. But in the interim, as the Warchief just promised, we’ll also have a GUEST mailbag featuring letters to Gurtash next Monday, December 28. Get those letters in ASAP! (And please make clear whether you’re writing to Gurtash or Garrosh.) As always, use the email link in the right sidebar, or fill in the handy form below!]

 

Battle scars (part 1)

org15

C42_Page_1 C42_Page_2 C43_Page_3

* Gurtash was wounded by a spectral assassin here and had been unconscious ever since he was rushed back to Orgrimmar.

{CONTINUED SOON™…}

 

Monday GUEST mailbag: Shayari

shaymailbag

Okay, so as I promised, since everybody’s been all curious about Shayari, today’s your chance to hear from her directly. Let me kick it over to her and see what you people have come up with. And whether I’m going to have to go out and crack a few skulls later.

 

Hi everyone! I’m still not sure how Pops convinced me to do this. This whole blog thing seems kind of lame to me, but I guess it couldn’t be any worse than Twitter.

Let’s see what everyone has to say!

 

Dear Warchief’s Daughter:

I have hesitated long to write this, since it may seem presumptuous of me, but I ask you to take it that I mean this with the greatest respect.

You can certainly deal with undesired advances (being your father’s daughter), I would simply caution you in response to desired advances. It is not my business, nor do I especially desire to know with whom you might choose to be intimate, but you may trust this- intimacy is dangerous, and one who desires yours may be a deceiver, a flatterer, or one seeking to take advantage of you for your father’s sake.

It happened to me (long ago), and I would not see it happen to you if I can spare you such pain.

Also, I know it may be natural to want to rebel against your father, but he does care for you, and as Warchief, he is in a delicate position. He must balance many competing burdens, and anything you (and we who follow him) can do to reduce those burdens will only help him.

My apologies for the lengthy missive, and I offer you such friendship as I can, and whatever help or advice as you may want (even none, if I seem too much like a meddling old aunt).

–Sintra E’Drien (and her mate Lyssa Nightblossom)

Ps. If you ever happen to visit Nagrand, you might wish to consider visiting Garrosh’s Greatmother- I understand she makes delicious lemon-squares.

So, hang on a second… I don’t even know who you are, and you’re… um… did you really just come out of nowhere and start giving me advice about who I hook up with?

Who are you again?

And I mean, okay, yeah, Greatmother Geyah’s lemon squares, I get it, I know, I’ve heard about the lemon squares, I’ve been in Orgrimmar a few months and for real, spirits help me, every day with the lemon squares. To hear Pops talk about them, I should maybe go hook up with a tray of them, because, you know. I’ll have what he’s having. So I get it. The lemon squares. Even though lime would totally be better, but sure, you go, Greatmom Geyah. Or I guess Great-Greatmom Geyah, in my case? Except I guess she’s not even Pops’ actual greatmother, so I’m not even really related to her, so it doesn’t really matter what call her, so whatevs.

Who are you again? For real.

I mean, trust me, when Pops reads this letter, I’m pretty sure that’s going to push the ol’ enrage timer a lot more than anything I do, and that’s really kind of saying something, because some days I actually work on it. There are diagrams and everything. (I can’t help it — he just gets so wound up! It’s a real hoot sometimes.)

 

Dear Shayari,

I tried asking your father this recently, but I didn’t expect to get the chance to ask you directly! You always seem so fashionable, what are your favorite places to shop? Anywhere you would recommend?

–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City

P.S. What’s the real story on your father’s love life? Any juicy details you can share? He’s usually pretty vague and evasive about it. You must know the real scoop! Inquiring minds want to know!

Okay, for real, are all these letters going to be about who’s doing who? Because I did not sign up for this. If I wanted a non-stop parade of gross and creepy questions that I can never un-read, I would get an Ask.fm account.

Plus it’s not like Pops gives me updates on whatever groupie he’s doing whatever with, which is probably just as well, because ew. Not enough therapy in the world. The last thing I need to think of is old people doing it. How am I supposed to eat dinner with that in my head? Ew and double ew.

But, as far as the shopping goes, now you’re talking my language! My favorite shop by far was Threads of Fate back in Dalaran. I used to have a little part-time job helping tend the shop on weekends, mostly so I could get the employee discount, and believe me, I used that perk up. When I realized I needed to get out of town, I definitely made a point of packing up as many ToF things as I could right off. It’s pretty much off limits now, though. Obviously. Screw Jaina.

It’s funny you’re asking about this, actually, since you live in Silvermoon. That’s probably my favorite place to go now! There are a couple good shops in the Bazaar: Silvermoon Finery and Keelen’s Trustworthy Tailoring. Finery is the more upscale place. Pricey but really good stuff. Keelen’s has good clothes too (even if the name of the place is kind of lame), not as fancy, but you can find some really nice stuff there, too. Also much less expensive. Like really inexpensive. I’m not sure how they manage that, to be honest.

Oh, and there’s also Kodohide Leatherworkers down in the Drag in Orgrimmar. For leather goods, obviously. They have some pretty cool jackets and bags and a couple other things I won’t get into here because Pops is probably going to read it and why invite the yelling.

 

Blood and Thunder Shayari,

My name is Mirembe. I’m one of your dad’s trainees (I’m the one who’s never around, if that helps) and proud meat shield warrior! Anyway, onto my question, since if you’re anything like your dad, you don’t like long letters.

When I was hanging around Nagrand, killing ogres on Lazyeye’s command (Sorry Mr. Lantressor!), I ran into Drae Drann *all spelling attempts have been scribbled out hastily* Space Goat guy in a cage in Mr. Lantressor’s camp. At least, I think he was a Space Goat. He was kinda lumpy and tentacle-y, but in all the wrong places. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but he was kinda really dumb! I may have smacked him with my shield to shut him up, but I think I smacked him a little too hard because he fell down. Who was that guy, anyway?

Aka’mogash,

–Mirembe

PS: If you’re in Orgrimmar, please please PLEASE let me know how Gurtash is doing! I heard about what happened in Blackrock Spire and I’ve been worrying myself sick over him, and the energy-bandage dudes keep telling me it’s because I’m fleshy. 🙁

Oh, hey, one of Pip’s friends. He’s doing…well, okay, I guess. I’m not a healer or anything. No real news. He’s still out cold and resting over near the tauren part of town. So I guess he’s stable, there haven’t been any new problems, just…not awake. I know Pops has been going over to check on him, and I’ve popped over a couple times, and there have been some others going over. So he’s not suffering from a lack of eyes on him. I guess we just have to wait it out and see.

How were things back in Nagrand? I haven’t been back there for a few years, but I grew up in Telaar. Have you visited there? Come to think of it, I guess you probably wouldn’t have been too welcome if you’re an orc. I mean, I’m half-orc and they didn’t always seem to thrilled too have me around, so…

But so, this lumpy draenei guy. That would be one of the Broken, by the way, one of the draenei who were all…physically screwed up when the planet went kablooey — most of the people in Telaar were Broken, along with a handful of garden variety draenei. So I guess this guy would have been one of them. I guess he could have been one of the Windyreed Lost Ones, too, but I don’t see why one of them would have been in a cage over in… oh. Oh! OH! I think I know who that was! You met Corki!

And damn, I’m sorry! You met Corki!

I mean, Corki’s a really sweet kid, but, spirits help me, he’s dense. Like not even just your plain old regular dense. Just… just… Let me put it this way. You know those Dontvoch and Untrag guys, or whoever? I’m pretty sure they could outsmart Corki. Like, either of them, individually, without even getting the benefit of rubbing their bumpy heads together to activate their Wonder Twins joint mind or whatever. I’m actually glad Corki’s okay, more or less, and not, like, dead from walking off the side of one of the cliffs around Telaar because he saw a butterfly or something.

I’m not surprised Corki’s still getting himself captured by ogres. It used to happen, like, every few weeks as long as I can remember. It was almost like a hobby for him. I felt so bad for his dad, Arechron — he would keep getting these ransom notes from the ogres and get stuck having to pay gold to get Corki back, and then a few days later Corki would up and get caught again. I know Pops complains sometimes about how expensive I can be, but that’s nothing compared to how much Corki cost poor Arechron in ransom fees.

 

Lok’tar, Daughter of Hellscream,

I would know: what is your favourite beast? If you wish to find one in the wilds, I believe the Mok’Nathal of the Blade’s Edge Mountains would be able to help you. You’d have to earn their respect first, though, and that wouldn’t be easy; believe me, I know.  

Strength and Honour,

–Rexxar, Beastmaster and Champion of the Horde

Hi Rexxar! I’m pretty sure we’ve never met, but I remember hearing about you during the last months before I moved to Dalaran. Even though they steered clear of you, what with you being Horde and all, the hunters back in Telaar used to talk about you with a lot of respect. Way more than they had for that Nesingwary guy. I don’t think they ever really knew what to make of him. Anyway, say hi to Misha for me! I hear she’s a cutie. As 600-pound fur-bearing instruments of death go.

You know, I’m not sure what my favorite animal would be. I used to ride talbuks once in a while when I was younger, and they’re pretty, but not exactly snuggly. Since I’ve been in Orgrimmar, wyverns and worgs have grown on me a lot, actually. A worg could be pretty cool. Or a wyvern, but I almost feel like I already have one, with the way Mortimer follows me around sometimes.

I’ve always liked birds a lot, though. When I was a little girl, we found a baby windroc that had fallen from its mother’s nest. I took care of it for a while until it was strong enough to go back into the wild. And I have a pretty cool bird now, too! He’s a hyacinth macaw. I named him Kalec, because he’s flappy and blue and he parrots back whatever I say to him! I know that won’t mean much to you, but trust me, it’s going to go over like gangbusters with the Sunreavers.

So I guess I’m not sure. Keeping my options open for now, I guess?

 

Dear Shayari,

What’s it like to have a complete loser for a dad?

–Varian Wrynn, Stormwind

Oh, hi, Varry. I think you might have sent this letter to the wrong place. Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure it gets forwarded to Anduin.

 

Hey mon!

6 − 6 × 6 = 0

Discuss!

–Bob, Shado-pan Monastery

No, no, Bobby, I think you got your equation mixed up. Here, let me fix it for you:

(your penis size) + (your IQ) × (number of times you’ve satisfied a woman) = 0

There! I hope that clears things up. Don’t be embarrassed, math is hard.

 

Greetings, Shayari!

What a privilege it is to be able to contact you directly! I was sure I showed great enthusiasm in my letter to your father, and that our paths would cross one day, but I never did anticipate it leading to this, especially so quickly! I am honoured to have this opportunity, daughter of Hellscream.

Introductions! My name is Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker or, as I previously stated, Sarlin. I currently live at Hearthglen in the Western Plaguelands and, you’ll be pleased to hear, that the place has thrived with magic becoming less feared and more valuable! Not that it’s an invitation, of course. Merely a point that portals are always available at my beck and call, for a generous fee. I’ll be quite honest, while the Argent Crusade has the righteous reputation as the noble and faithful saviours of Azeroth we are, there hasn’t been a lot happening here lately. We normally just lounge around, chatting, drinking, fixing armour, staring at our weapons and keeping an eye on the towers. Although, rest assured, there’s always guards at the front gates and patrolling the Plaguelands, just in case we, you know, get run over by gnolls or something. Funny story, there were gnoll necromancers here some time back, and one of the magi (Lisp, I think his name was?) was actually providing them with tools to raise the dead. Now, he was thwarted by a certain orc warrior not long ago, and was rewarded by Highlord Fordring. Still, I feel like I was the ONLY one out of everybody in the Argent Crusade who was still sober enough to ask herself the question: “Why the fuck is he giving necromancy tools to GNOLLS!?” Gee, what next? Will murlocs start joining the Burning Legion? So, that’s the general idea of how things are being run these days. I won’t argue with the drinking. Sometimes, you really need it, too. Miss Daria L’Rayne is quite a fabulous partner to drink with, too. Although she has been drinking a lot lately. And when I see her, she seems exhausted. In fact, most of the time, when I go to talk to her, she puts her hand up over her ears and begs me to stop, and when I try to ask her what’s bothering her, she collapses in a heap, sobbing. Very unusual behaviour! I just can’t get to the bottom of why she would be so miserable and yet not be willing to talk about it. And, come to think of it, I don’t really see her sober at all anymore. Although, she is Tirion’s advisor and I don’t get to see her much for that reason. I guess it’s a full time job. I hope she’s alright.

Anyway, that’s beside the point. No, I mentioned a few things to your father on the topic of you, ah, fitting in. I can relate in more ways than one. I may be a Blood Elf, but I was raised by a Night Elf in Teldrassil. Sadly, like you, I was banished from the lush forests and placed into neutral territory. My dear Kal’dorei mother fell in battle not two years later, and I was brought back the Horde, left wandering foreign soil, confronting alien races and wondering where those weary, young feet would take me, if they could bear my weight. I know how it is, trying to find your own place. And, as you may have learned, Blood Elves are not exactly taken seriously by many of the other racial leaders. This is mostly down to our prissy regent-lord, Lor’Themar Theron. You know, ponytail, braid. Not a SINGLE hair out of place. That’s probably how he lost an eye, come to think of it. He was too busy fixing his hair to realize that there was a fucking invasion happening. Rest assured, many of the other Sin’dorei are more attributing, in more ways than one. We’re strong, lithe, quick on our feet, faithful and exceptionally skilled in magic. That is, if we know how to control our thirsts for it. But anyhow, I digress.

No, I just wondered of your exploits since you met your father and became Horde-affiliated. How you’ve been settling in. What troubles you’ve faced. Coming from Dalaran and being landed into dusty old Orgrimmar can’t have been fun, huh? Have you ever been to Silvermoon City? It’s so wonderful, here! I remember Liadrin used to spend most of her time in Farstrider Square, training the Blood Knights. She’s nice. And hey, the Tauren Chieftains are here, too! Which, really, I don’t care much for them. Personally, that Sig Nicious guy has more arm hair than he does brains, but who cares! They’re famous! And aside that, there’s a lush, golden forest out there as well.

Or, if you wanted to feel more at home, there’s always Mulgore. I find that it’s quite similar to Nagrand, in many ways. Although, be wary of the mountains. There are rumours of oversized cannibal critters with guns, chainsaws and the like up there. Probably just a story to keep young whippersnappers like US in our place. Pfft. Like I’m afraid of a rabbit with a gun. Still. They have been said to absorb sanity, which makes me wonder if they’re, you know, actually Old Gods in disguise. When in doubt, blame the Old Gods, amirite?

Hey, if you ever, like, wanted to hang out, just let me know! Trust me, I’m a lot more fun in person. I mean, not to soak up in sterotypes, but I can do AMAZING hairstyles. Oh, and my fashion sense? FABULOUS. I even made earrings with the Argent Crusade icon on them, just so everyone knows to withdraw the swords when I decide to stroll through the likes of Ironforge or whatever. That way, I don’t have a tabard flapping around and I can still look pretty good. Oh, and guess what I have! I met a bronze dragon a while ago (babbling idiot, kept talking about how we were all doomed by demons and shit like that) who handed me this package before departing. It’s called a S.E.L.F.I.E camera. You can take these things called “selfies” with it! Oh, and mine’s got a diamond on it, too. Or is it a cubic zirconia? Anyway.

I just have one last question. I, uh, spilled my inkwell. Ignore the smudges. How are you getting along with your father?

May the Light protect you, good magus, and all you hold most dear to you. I eagerly await your response.

–Sarlin

Wow.

Um.

Hang on, I’m going to grab some kafa and try to get through that again. I’m pretty sure I zoned out at some point on the first try. Somewhere around the part where oh my Light.

So, stand by.

 

Okay, here we go again with a little liquid fortitude. PSL FTW, right? (Honestly, if I’d known the Horde had Starbulls, I probably would have bailed on the Silver Covenant years ago.)

 

So… wow, Sarlin. That’s…that’s impressive. Yeah, I can’t imagine why that Daria girl drinks so much. She might have a problem and someone should probably try talking to her about and a propos of nothing does anyone know how diligent the bartenders are at the Broken Tusk about checking IDs? Just a random thought. Don’t mind me.

I guess I’ve been getting along with Pops pretty okay. It was kind of weird and awkward at first. He didn’t really come to see me a lot when I first got to Orgrimmar — that is, after he met me. When I first got to Orgrimmar, he wasn’t around, because he was off in Pandaria on business. I mostly spent time with Liadrin then. You’re right, she’s pretty cool. But then after Garry came back and Liadrin introduced me, I think he was mostly pretty shocked. I don’t think he really believed I was his daughter at first, and then he wanted to send me off to study at the Undercity. And I guess I get it, it was probably a lot to get dropped on him, and maybe he just needed some time to get used to the idea. Still, after the way things happened in Dalaran, I suppose I was kind of hoping he’d give me this big welcome and take me in like the people there never really did. Or the people back in Telaar, even. They didn’t really talk about me being half orc, but you could always kind of tell…well… yeah, anyway. So I guess the point is that I probably had this whole dream scenario in my head. Which was probably silly of me. You know, setting up for more disappointment.

Things have been better, though. I’m settled in again here in Orgrimmar, and just porting over to the UC for lessons. Pops cleared out a room upstairs in Grommash Hold for me to have, with this little balcony that overlooks the Valley of Strength. Oh and here’s the thing, about whether it’s been hard moving to Orgrimmar — I don’t really mind it. You have to remember, I grew up in Telaar, which is really just a poor village built around what’s left of some old draenei buildings. So it’s not like I was used to having luxurious surroundings. Don’t get me wrong, Dalaran was amazing, and I love Silvermoon, but Orgrimmar hasn’t been bad. It’s dustier than Nagrand, yeah, but it’s still sort of…familiar, I guess. Eventually it might even start to feel like home.

It could still seriously use a few coats of paint, though. And don’t even ask me what’s up with all the spikes all over everything, because really.

 

Hello, young Shayari,

I am Lantresor of the Blade, chieftain of the Burning Skull Ogre Clan and formerly part of the Burning Blade Orc Clan. Like you, I am the child of a draenei and an orc, but my parentage is in the reverse — my mother was the orc, my father the draenei. My question is this: do you know anything about my father? I myself know only that his name was D’Kaan, he was a hunter of sorts, he lived in the village of Telaar, just like you, and he was dead by the time I passed the tests to become a Blademaster. I have had no luck seeking information elsewhere.  

Also, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you – I assure you that I know and understand many of the things you have gone through, having experienced them myself. Be brave, child of two worlds; you are not alone.  

–Lantresor of the Blade

P.S. Whatever you may have heard to the contrary, I am not trying to pursuing you romantically! Even if I was interested, I would know better than to seek a relationship with a mage – too much potential to become scorched earth, I say.

I know, Lanny, I’m too hot for a lot of people to handle. It’s okay.

I remember hearing about you back in Telaar. I picked up the fact that there had been other half-draenei-half-orcs, but it wasn’t something anyone liked to talk about, or even acknowledge if they could help it. Your name came up a couple times. Mostly fearfully. I don’t know what you did to put the fear of the spirits into those people, but I’ll tell you, whatever it was, it worked. I don’t know if I know much about your father, although his name does sound familiar. I think it might have come up in passing when Arechron would talk about some of the weird plant-based life, like the sporelings, that developed in Zangarmarsh after the world shattered. He would talk about these other…well… plant people, basically, that used to exist. Botanical something-or-other, maybe? Anyway, Arechron would sometimes talk about the rangari hunters who used to fight them, and how if any of the hunters survived the shattering they would probably take an interest in what’s happened in Zangar. That’s when I think he would have mentioned D’Kaan, along with a few other hunter people like him.

I don’t know how much that helps. I hope you can find out more about him, though. I know what it’s like not to know much about your family. I’m still trying to find things out myself. I’m still getting to know my dad, obviously, and I get the sense that there’s a whole bunch of other family history I’m still not in on.

 

Speaking of family history, does Pops usually get stuck answering so much of this stuff? Like on a regular basis? No wonder he gets cranky with people sometimes.

Well, anyway, thanks for writing in, everyone, even if a lot of you seem kinda weird. I guess this is where I should wrap this up.

 

And I guess this is where I should start looking up addresses for people who need a personal talking to.

More soon.

 

[Obligatory reminder: The Warchief’s next mailbag is coming up in two weeks, on Monday, October 5. Send in your letters either by e-mail (link at the top of the right sidebar!) or using the form below. Possible other guest mailbags in the future — time will tell!]

 

Monday mailbag

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Time to dip back into the ol’ mailbag. Let’s see what we’ve got this time around…

 

Hail, Warchief,

Firstly, I thank you for accepting Grimjaw into the Kor’kron fold, and hope he will serve you well; secondly, my apologies for the depressive content of my letters – it was not my intention to “bring the room down”.

Instead, I will share some good news with you: my son has taken to training as a warrior and will be ready to take his Om’riggor – his rite of passage – next year, and my daughter has taken to learning the shamanic arts. I have high hopes for both of them.

Also, there’s something I think you should hear, Warchief. Another of my wolves – Golmash, I call him, after your grandfather, whose legend is known even to me – has a black pelt and a set of eerie green eyes. And I don’t mean in the dark, slimy green of a swamp so much as a strange, otherworldly glare. I didn’t think anything of it the first time I noticed, but since then I’ve been feeling strangely ill-at-ease whenever he looks at me. I did some research into the nature of these eyes and what I’ve found… is both confusing and disturbing.

On one hand, the eye colour is not unique or unnatural (so far as anyone can tell); on the other hand, only one particular wolf dynasty has ever had them, and rarely so. This dynasty, dubbed “moonwolf”, lived in Shadowmoon Valley until the arrival of the Legion and the corruption of the land that ensued, and the last known scion of this lineage was Skychaser, the companion of Ner’zhul. The fate of the fallen Great Shaman is well-known, but no one knows what happened to his wolf.

I have never had any encounter with that particular lineage, and so far as I can tell, Golmash is strictly of Frostwolf and Nagrandeur descent; thus, the cause of his haunting eyes remains a mystery. How should I proceed from here, Warchief? I am loathe to create a problem where there is none, but something in my gut tells me sinister things are afoot.

Yours faithfully,

–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master

Hey again, Ogunaro. Grimjaw’s gotten settled in over at the Kor’kron stables. I’ve been over to have a look at him, and he IS a pretty fine looking wolf. Like I mentioned last time, I’ve got something in mind for him, but it’s going to be a little bit before I get that going. The timing is kind of up in the air for the time being, but hopefully things will fall into place soon. I’ll keep you updated as things go.

As for this mystery wolf of yours (appreciate the shout-out to Golmash, by the way… well, unless it turns out there’s something seriously fishy going on with him, in which case, gee, thanks for dragging my grandfather into it)… that does sound pretty weird. I can’t say I’ve run into any glowy green-eyed wolves myself, and I’ve ridden more than my share over the years. Still, I don’t want to start running around cooking up crazy stories and conspiracy theories, especially when you sound like you’ve got a good sense of the line this wolf came from. So for right now, what I’d recommend is keeping a close watch on him and maybe keep him apart from your other wolves when you’re not able to monitor them. Is there anything strange about his behavior? How does he get along with the other wolves? Or with you, for that matter? Anything you’ve noticed about him that’s different from most wolves, OTHER than the green eyes?

This is definitely worth monitoring, but I don’t want to start panicking straight away. The Ner’zhul connection is creepy as fuck, but I also don’t put a lot of stock in ghost stories. Unless the ghost in question is one of those bankers down at the Undercity, because funny enough, those dudes actually DO come up with some pretty good stock tips. FYI.

Grats on your kids coming along with their training, by the way. Are they working with anyone in the military trainee program, or has it been individual class training so far? I’ve got a bunch of trainees studying under me, but then you probably already knew that if you read the blog. Your son’s coming up on his om’riggor next year, huh? He must be pretty advanced at this point, in that case. I’m hoping some of mine will be ready for the rite before too long, but right now that’s pretty dependent on…well, a bunch of things. No need to belabor ’em with you. I’m sure you know the drill. Next year would be pretty nice, though.

Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on what’s up with Grimjaw. And the other wolf thing.

 

Well well, Hellscream,

It seems serendipity brought me and your little “trainee” together. But I’ll elaborate on that in a moment. First, let me tell you that Boulderfist purchased our computer equipment from a rather enterprising goblin shaman and obtained our Internet as spoils of war from the Shadow Council. How they can be smart enough to create working Internet here on Outland and yet foolish enough to serve the Burning Legion is beyond me, but then there it is. Now about your trainee…

I was naturally curious when several of my ogres came wandering up the hill to me complaining about an outbreak of headaches. As it happens, they had incurred these headaches from being repeatedly smashed in the face (and other places) with a shield by an eager, cheerful little orc girl with a potbelly worthy of a ogre woman (few of them that there are). How fortunate that she isn’t as good at killing ogres as she thinks; I settled for reproaching my men for being stupid enough to let a orcling child knock the stuffing out of them. Some claim the ordeal has left them dumber – but frankly, dear Hellscream, I doubt that very much, and if it has, it hasn’t made that much difference.

At any rate, even allowing for the fact that she didn’t know about our truce, as I discovered when I caught her lurking around the Laughing Skull Ruins watching that brute of a shaman Mogor pounding a group of fledgling Alliance “heroes” into the ground and confronted her, there is a certain principle about truces that has to be upheld – namely, the principle that you don’t attack the people you have a truce with. So when I learned of this Jorin Blackeye or whatever his name was continuing to send adventurers after my ogres, I decided a response was called-for.

We lured him out of Garadar under the pretense of discussing a peace settlement concerning the village of Halaa with the Kurenai Broken, and there I confronted him about his actions. I had hoped to settle things in a reasonable way, but not only did he spout some nonsense about “no forgiveness” and whatnot, he took the time to pass comment about my Burning Blade heritage before he started to walk away. After that… well, it’s very embarassing. He sort of walked right into my blade. Face-first, no less. And my blade brushed against his one good eye. All completely by accident. How very careless of the both of us.

Anyway, given that he was using that eye for no-good purposes, perhaps it is an acceptable casualty. I hear he has not dared show his face in public since then – with an injury like that, I know I wouldn’t – and that his clan are electing a new leader. Hopefully they’ll be more understanding from now on.

By the way, speaking of Mogor, the brute and I have reached an accord: a permanent end to the fighting between our clans and the merging of Boulderfist and Warmaul into a single clan, as it was long ago, under the name Burning Skull (somehow, Laughing Blade just doesn’t have the same ring to it). We’re interested in signing on with your Horde – I admit, I’m curious about meeting another of my own kind, even if she is very different from me, and the contribution I can offer you seems like a fitting gesture.

Mogor has portalled us to a small goblin harbour in the Barrens. We’ll be in Grommash Hold soon to discuss terms.

–Lantresor of the Blade

Okay, you know what? Not going to lie. Not a whole lot registered other than the part about Jorin getting a little what-for. In the face. Jorin Blackeye indeed. Heh. HeheheHAH. HAHAHAHA. Such a dick.

So wait, did you actually get his eye, or JUST graze him, or what? I get that you did some damage, but eyes are tricky territory, and even a little extra flick of the blade one way or the other could… hmm… you know, come to think of it, probably best not to dwell on it. I’ll probably end up hearing through channels soon enough.

So speaking of trainees, you realize that when Mirembe sees your letter, of all the stuff you brought up, all she’s going to notice is the “potbelly” part, right? I can almost hear the letter landing in my inbox now.

Also, eesh, surprise guests. I better have Marogg whip up some food to greet these people with when they get here. I wonder if he still has any of that Darkspear rice sitting around for his jambalaya. Pretty tasty stuff, actually, as long as the rice wasn’t sitting around trollville for too long, in which case you end up getting this weird dizzy feeling if you eat too much of it.

 

Hey, uh, Boss?

I was perusing this here blog and I noticed the letter you got from Lantresor. Now, readin’ between the lines here I gotta say… it sounds like that is one lonely half-orc-half-draenei dude lookin’ to get all buddy-buddy with the father of the — *looks around nervously and makes a circuit of the room listening for stealthy swoosh sounds* — youngest and most attractive of the only two lady half-orc-half-draenei girls in the world. Which makes me question his motivations, if you hear what I’m sayin’ and know what I mean.

Not that Shayari can’t handle herself or deal with unwanted attention, but… I’m just sayin’…

Also, not for nothin’, but I hear that Lantresor is a huge complainer. An acquaintance of mine worked with him for a while, and all he ever did was whine, whine, whine. “How long are we going to stay here?” And, “I miss the grassy plains of Nagrand!” Oh boo hoo hoo! Drove everyone else bonkers.

Have a good one!

–Khizzara.

Oh, PS: I dropped a buncha flowers off for Gurtash. Wish I could do something more, but as a mage I’d probably only make things worse. And as a goblin, I might uh, make him explode. Kinda counterproductive for the healin’.

Yeah, that Lantresor guy is…

Hang on.

<thinks>

Oh FUCKING HELL, SERIOUSLY?

I… he… you mean… HOW THE FUCK OLD IS THAT GUY, ANYWAY?

I’m… suddenly feeling a strange craving for dead ogres.

Wait, that would mean giving Jorin the satisfaction. And not for anything, but I refuse to live in a universe where Jorin Blackeye—erm, I mean Deadeye… is validated.

And yet.

Fuck. Rock and a hard place.

HANG ON HANG ON HE’S ON HIS WAY HERE TOO, LIKE SOON AND SHIT.

Dammit. If he’s out cruising for half-orc, half-draenei action… maybe I can pull a bait-and-switch on him? I wonder if Garona’s doing anything this week. I could invite her to attend whatever reception I end up stuck holding for these people and really lay it on thick about how much I’d like her to be there and OH SHIT NEVER MIND THAT’S JUST GOING TO GIVE HER IDEAS.

Fucking hell, this parenting shit isn’t as easy as people make it out to be. UGH.

 

Dear Warchief:

I apologize for disturbing you, when as your loyal subject it should be my duty to relieve your stresses, not add to them, but I have a delicate question for you. (by the way, could you please appoint us Blood Elves a Regent? I got a rude note from someone calling himself “Bob” saying you had named a Lord Invincible to the post, but I’ve never seen him . . . ?)

Anyhow, I . . . met a girl. Cat. Woman. Druid. Ummm, she’s really really beautiful, and she loves it when I pet her, and she purrs when we take naps in the sunlight, and we love to just stare into each others’ eyes when she’s a cat. Not a small cat, a big black panther. But anyways, I met her as part of trying to research help for my . . . not quite alive condition. She’s with the Cenarion Circle, and I guess they had a grudge against orcs for killing Cenarius, only he’s not dead anymore so that’s ok, I hope. We started spending time together, and slaughtering murlocs, and I found out that when we’re together I can feel my heart beating again. Umm . . . is it ok that she’s a Night Elf? We stay at her cave in Moonglade when I’m not on assignment, so she won’t disturb any members of the Horde.

Hopefully,

–Sintra E’Drien of Silvermoon.

Ps. Shouldn’t Loktar Ogar mean something more like “My Victory, Their Death!”?

I… Hang on, when did this mailbag turn into the fucking Dating Game?

So hold it, Sintra, are you seriously asking me to sign off on you shacking up with a freaking NIGHT ELF? I mean, I already had ENOUGH of a headache just recently dealing with Mokvar’s human chick, and as far as I can gather SHE’S at least his EX-wife, as opposed to whatever the fuck you have going on that’s just in the early magical bloom of insert-your-greeting-card-bullshit-romantic-cliche-here.

And so, on top of the night elf part, she’s a druid, and from the sound of it you spend most of your time together with her in cat form? And you’re still technically dead… and… I don’t even KNOW what the fuck that is, like now you’re just doing the backstroke around a giant cocktail glass loaded up with some spiritsforsaken concoction of bestiality and (reverse?) necrophilia and disloyalty and furry and OMG. I mean the only part of that whole damn part of it that I can sign off on is the whole “slaughtering murlocs” thing, because let’s face it, who’s not down for good wholesome murloc slaughter? Other than the murlocs, I suppose. But who knows, maybe not. I know if I were a murloc, I would fucking hate me.

Hang on, though.

Jog my memory here, Sintra… aren’t you a blood elf chick? Because if so, and she’s… that might…

<thinks>

No. No. Never mind. Sticking with the dead-murloc-lone-highlight position. The end. Turn the page. Ahem.

I’ll be in my bunk.

 

[Keep those letter coming! Send e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com or use the form below. Next mailbag July 6!]

 

Monday mailbag

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Just got back to Orgrimmar a little while ago. I checked in with the shamans over in the Valley of Wisdom about Gurtash. They’re still working on him, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to have anything solid to say for a while yet. All we really know right now is that that spectral minion got him good…the fucker managed to get a good rip in on the kid in exactly the wrong areas, the head and chest. They made it sound like they’re not going to able to say much for sure for a while still, so apparently I’m just going to have to kill time till then. So, I guess this is as good a time as any to clear out some more of this mail backlog.

So… the last mailbag made an impression for sure, what with it including a letter from some goblin guy that ran on for so long that I’m fairly sure I still won’t finish reading it until sometime next Tuesday. With that in mind…

 

Dat quite da letter, Grottee Metalbeard. I’d recommend splittin’ it into more paragraphs next time, though. Ol’ Garry — *quickly scratches out the former and substitutes in “Warchief” — can only handle so much.

–Alayea

P.S. Though Fordring say he speechless, he sure ain’t one ta talk. =P

Oh, Fordring is one to talk, Alayea. To talk, and talk, and talk, and oh, by the way, did I mention talk? But yeah…that was a letter and a half last time. Actually, it was more like 6.2 letters. Maybe more. No less, though. You’d be amazed what a difference even a tenth of a letter makes. 6.1 would contain surprisingly little content.

 

Eheheh, sorry about all that Warchief. I was on a Kaja’cola binge when I wrote my letter.

Anyway, I’ll drop Blackfuse a line to let him know you’re interested. Protip: The key to keeping his attention is to keep mentioning money.

–Grottee Metalbeard

Oh, and check it out, look who’s back. So…how much Kaja’cola did you choke down before you wrote that letter? Is there any left? Anywhere? Or is that shit just really potent? I can’t say I’ve ever tried the stuff, so I’m not really in much position to say. Sounds like it has the same kind of effect as that kafa stuff from Pandaria that Ruekie’s always drinking. Man, you should see her with a couple cups of that stuff in her. Haste buff like you wouldn’t believe. I’m at least 50% sure one more cup would shave all her spells down to instant cast.

Anyway, yeah, feel free to contact that Blackfuse dude for me. Might be a good idea for you let me know where I can reach him so I can see about making contact directly, too. Is he over in the goblin part of town in Orgrimmar, or up in Azshara, or doing business somewhere else? Either way, yeah, I kind of figured the way to his heart was through his wallet. I mean, come on, he’s a goblin. I know how you guys are wired.

Oh, and before all you crybabies get your panties in a bunch about me saying that, because racist this and stereotype that and boo hoo hoo, I give you Exhibit A:

 

Yo Big G,

Got another question for ya! What’s the big deal with my fellow Horde members shirking their duty in Alterac Valley? Are the Frostwolves really a bunch of pansies now that Big T went all hippy peace and love, or are they just scared of the beards on them Stormpikes? If it’s the beards, I totally got an answer for that!

You see my company, Sparkbolt Enterprises, has recently come into some great explosives. And by great, I mean “how in the burning hells is this stuff still legal?!” We pack it up nice and tight in the best elementium plating we can find (and boy howdy was there a TON of that stuff lying around when Deathwing was killed off), primed and ready to be launched at the face of any Alliance foe you can imagine! I like to call it the Sparkbolt Facemelter™! For best results, aim at dwarves or the sissy pandas that went for the Blue and Gold. It’s like watching an explosive sheep in an oil refinery! Just watch out for friendly fire and people within range of the discharge explosion. Also, wear heavy protective armor when setting one of these bad boys off! My, uh, my cousin Vinny didn’t and his face literally got melted. Makes the family reunions awkward, I can tell ya that much. 10,000 gold will get ya 100 quality Facemelters, primed and ready to roll! (shipping and handling is an extra 5,000. We disavow any responsibility, legal, moral, or otherwise, for misuse or improper storage of our products.)

*attached is a handy order form and catalogue for other Sparkbolt products*

Pleasure doing business with ya,

–Glessee “Glitch” Sparkbolt, Founder and CEO of Sparkbolt Enterprises

Yeah. So. Thanks?

But okay…I want to make sure I’m following this correctly, because listen, if there’s one guy you DON’T have to sell on the idea of blowing up Allies, it’s me. Like it’s really, REALLY me. So… you’re trying to sell me explosives that you have to armor yourself to the teeth just to use, and still stay out of the range…hang on, what IS the “range of the discharge explosion”? Like how far away from this thing do you have to BE? Because you’re making it sound pretty damn huge, which would mean that it would be nearly impossible even to USE the damn thing without being taken out by it. Which means the only way I could even put these things into action would be to use my own people as living cannon fodder, and send them out there armed with these things to blow up targets knowing full well they’re gonna get melted themselves. Which sounds like it’s straight out of Psychotic War of Attrition 101.

So what I’m telling you is, I’ll go as high as 8000 for the pack of 100, shipped, but you’re not getting a copper more than that.

Fucking price-gouging goblins.

 

Heya warchief,

Being a big fan of your poetic skills, I just have to say,

There once was a goblin from Ratchet.

Go!

–Whizzy Greaseknuckle, from a neutral coastal town that may or may not be in the Northern Barrens

The fuck is up with all the goblins this time around? Is there some kind of coupon going around online for a “free with proof of your letter to Garrosh” deal or some shit?

Anyhow, though, you know what? You’re on.

There once was a goblin from Ratchet
Whose wits weren’t as sharp as a hatchet.
She launched a Facemelter™,
Ducked in her bomb shelter,
But, sadly, neglected to latch it.

EPIC VERSE!

 

Hello, Hellscream,

I am Lantresor of the Blade. Perhaps you do not remember me, though I do remember you. If you do remember me, it’s probably about how my clan, the Boulderfist ogres, attacked the village of your friend Jorin Deadeye – which they did, but the peace settlement I made with you should make that square.

At any rate, I’m writing in from the Burning Blade Ruins because I noticed you have a daughter – Shayari, was it? – who is half-orc and half-draenei. That makes at least three of us in this world, I see – her, Garona Halforcen and myself. I am the inversion of your daughter, physically our unique my body is that of an orc with draenei traits; notably, I am taller than an average orc, my shoulders are broader and my skin is an off-blue colour.

I sympathise with her experiences – they are not unlike those of my own. My father was a draenei scout, my mother an orc of the Burning Blade Clan. Sadly, the blood war between my parents’ people came when I was young. My mother raised me alone as best she could, my father being too dead to help, but in the end, I am half-orc and half-draenei – because of which, in the end I would be seen as neither.

I had barely completed my rite of passage when my enemies in the clan had me cast out shortly after they came to power. My father’s people, as you can imagine, could not bare to look upon me, for I was a reflection of their death. I was fortunate enough to still find a place in the Horde, where I would serve under the banner of two warchiefs. Now, though, I bow to no one. Instead, I am a ruler. A ruler of ogres.

Most of our kind were wiped out decades ago, though who was most responsible I do not know. I do know, however, that most would live their lives as outcasts, labelled and cast aside. Victims of their heritage. This world is no good to those of us who are half- anything. We stand forever apart; few know us, and fewer still understand us. For that reason I carry immense respect for Rexxar and his kind, the Mok’Nathal. They have lived as outcasts even longer than I have, yet they remain strong, if insular and distrusftul.

I write this letter not seeking your pity, but as a gesture to your daughter. The things she and I have been forced to learn, the things we have endured and suffered, the rejection, the shame… they are things only the children of orcs and draenei can know. If she has lived this long, it is a testament to her strength and independence; not all such children had it in them to take on the challenges and struggles our unique heritage presents. I, for one, applaud her, inasmuch as that means anything to either of you.

As an addendum, tell your daughter the next time you see her that she is not alone as a half-orc/draenei. Tell her that Lantresor of the Blade knows and understands – and finally, that if she ever needs my aid, or that of Boulderfist, she has only to ask.

–Lantresor of the Blade

Huh. Well THAT’S someone I wasn’t expecting to get a letter from. Not least of all because I wouldn’t have guessed Lantresor read the blog. Actually, hang on – the ogres out in Nagrand have INTERNET access? Grizzle Fucking Gearslip can’t set up a wireless network in Domination Point that doesn’t make the computer literally urinate on the desk, but the fucking OGRES on a shattered planet have GOOGLE? How the hell did THAT happen?!

Anyway.

I do remember you, Lantresor. Although, not for nothing, but I wouldn’t go so far as calling Jorin my “friend.” Yeah, we both grew up in Garadar, but he was…well, he was always kind of a dick. Especially once he got wind of some of the uglier details about Grom, and decided it would be a hoot of a good time to keep reminding me of them at every turn. So, you know, that whole thing where you rolling his village. Boo hoo. Fuck ’im.

Anyhow, thanks for reaching out about Shayari. I haven’t really thought that much about the whole half-breed thing, but it probably makes sense that she’d do well to have someone she can talk to who’s in the same boat. And considering the only other option for that would be Garona, well…yeah… I don’t really know you, Lantresor, but I’m pretty sure you’d be the better option. Seeing as I haven’t seen any overt signs of fucking migraine-inducing crazy from you. Plus, Garona seems to get all cranky whenever anybody mentions Shay around her. Who knows.

As it happens, I think one of my trainees is on track to be around your neck of the woods soon, so if it’s all good by you, I may have her swing by your way to introduce herself. Think of her as sort of an emissary, entrusted with a crucial matter of cross-cultural diplomacy because…well…she was going to be in the neighborhood anyway. So if a young orc by the name of Mirembe comes toddling on over, try not to have your ogre buddies step on her. She’s not as squishy as a lot of kids her age, and more than a little better at shield-slamming, but still, you know, why court trouble?

And speaking of whom…

 

Lok’tar again Warchief!

I know I’ve been writing in a lot, but it’s better to hear how my training goes here than in some silly report, right? And since you asked, I’m a Warsong orc too! My parents were grunts in Grom’s squad during the Third War. The necklace wasn’t from my first kills, so don’t worry!

I made it to Nagrand at last! Your Greatmother is awesome! She welcomed me, sat me down, and gave me a big bowl of clefthoof stew. I think I might gain weight out here from how often she asks me if I wanna eat something. If it’s not stew, it’s talbuk steak. If it’s not talbuk steak, it’s frenzy fish fry. She even offered me a sandwich made from leftover clefthoof roast one night after dinner! I won’t complain, though. The extra pounds might help me with a problem I’ve been having out here.

I met that Jorin guy. He seemed pretty crabby about some ogres or something. I wasn’t paying much attention until he told me to go kill those ogres. How long has this been going on with him? Anyway, to get back to my problem, he looks at me in creepy ways. Like how I’ve seen orcs in Shattrath stare at those draae…drenn…spacegoat girls. It’s gotten so bad, I stay with Greatmother most of the time now. What can I do to make him stop? Even threatening to smash his skull with my shield doesn’t work!

Help!

–Mirembe

Hey, Mirembe. Glad to hear the training is coming along. Just make sure you watch your portions while you’re out there – Greatmother piles the food on any guests who show up in town, and packing on the extra points isn’t going to do any favors to your dodge rating. Sure, she’s a nice old lady and everything, but you still need to be able to tell her “no thank you,” and then, when “no thank you” doesn’t even slow her down when she’s ladling out your ninth serving of clefthoof stew, you need to be able to get up from the table and walk away. And then keep walking, because she will FOLLOW your ass around town trying to get you to eat up, because you’re getting too skinny, and for FUCK’S sake make sure you keep a good pace going so you can stay ahead of her. She might be an old woman, but she’s fucking SPRY.

As for Jorin, speak of the devil, I was just answering another letter from this guy who…

Hang on.

You’re saying Jorin had you out killing ogres? Ogres that he was all cranky about? Like…the ogres who attacked his village back in the day… and who I arranged a TRUCE with way back before I moved to Orgrimmar? The ogres who are… um… led by…Lantresor of the Blade, who was JUST writing to me and trying to be nice and shit, and who I told I was going to send you to as a kind of emissary, only that was before I knew you were running around killing his fucking people, because evidently, according to Jorin, having a cease-fire in place for like four years is no reason not to send unsuspecting noobs (no offense, Mira) to KILL the people we have the cease-fire with because stomp stomp hissy fit? THOSE ogres?

FOR FUCK’S SAKE, JORIN. I mean, seriously. Fuck that guy. Um…not literally, Mirembe. Not literally. You don’t want to encourage him. Like at all.

And speaking of Jorin and his leering… yeah. He was always kind of a creeper. Twice the creepy looks with half the eyes. The best thing to do, really, it probably to try to steer clear of him. But you want to know the real secret weapon? Next time you catch Jorin popping his one good peeper at you, high-tail it over to Greatmother and fill her in on what he’s been up to. Believe me, that old lady doesn’t put up with any crap, and I can tell you from first-hand experience that if he sets her off, she will drop the clefthoof stew in two seconds flat to run over there and serve up a big steaming bowl of Pull Your Head Out of Your Fucking Ass, Jorin.

If THAT doesn’t work…hoo boy. All I can think of at that point if to remind the fucker that he’s already down to just one good eye, and if he can’t keep THAT eye from ogling where it shouldn’t be, SOMEBODY might have to take that one, too. Which may or may not give him an updated vision of how he’s going to die.

Maybe THAT’ll finally get through to him. Because, you know, it’s all fun and games until someone loses and eye, but it’s even BIGGER fun when they lose the other…

Erm…

Never mind.

I’m going to wrap up here. I’ve got to head over to the Valley of Wisdom and check in. On a few things. Keep the letters coming, e-mail to garrosh1337@gmail.com, handy form below, yadda yadda.

More soon.

 

[Next mailbag: June 1!]

 

Monday mailbag

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You know what this is, you know how this works, let’s get right to it.

 

Dear Warchief,

I heard that you really like bacon. ME TOO! Bacon is the greatest. It’s like candy, but it’s meat. I like meat. I want to try ALL the meat! I tried crocolisk yesterday for the first time and it was really good! It tastes a bit like pork, but more gamey. What’s your favorite meat that’s not bacon? Are there any animals you would like to eat but haven’t had a chance to try yet? Yay, meat!

–Suirohtal, Archdruid of People for the Eating of Tasty Animals

Holy shit, this guy is like Bizarro Lathorius! And also, gotta say, this PETA sounds like something I could totally get behind. So you know what? YAY MEAT INDEED, MY GOOD MAN. I think I like this archdruid a hell of a lot better than the other guy. Speaking of which, if you have an urge to send a giant kodo caravan to Orgrimmar carrying a vast assortment of meats, well, that would be super nifty and keen.

Can’t say I’ve had crocolisk, but if it reminds you of pork, it can’t be half bad. Naturally, nothing beats bacon, but there is no kind of pork that can steer you wrong. Or roasted boar. That’s some damn good eating, too. Basically if it’s a meat that comes from a porcine source, we’re good. Pork is pretty much the alpha meat. (You quillboar better take care not to get on my nerves too much.)

Talbuk and clefthoof are both pretty good, too, by the way. Clefthoof, I’ll have you know, makes for damn good stew meat especially. Keep that in mind next time there’s a cold winter night and you feel like getting big pot of something going over the fire.

Dammit, I’m making myself hungry.

Anyhow. I can’t think of any animals I’d like to eat that I haven’t. I’ve done a fair bit of hunting over the years, so I’ve eaten a lot of different meats. If anything, the thing I’d really like to eat more of would be vegetables. I can’t say I’ve made much of a habit of including them in my diet, and I think it would be pretty great if HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I THOUGHT I COULD GET THAT OUT CLEAN.

Anyway, though, thanks for writing, Suirohtal, and getting the mailbag off to a good start. This bodes well for a fun time this mailbag.

 

Hail Warchief,

Firstly, my thanks for hearing my plea. I look forward to observing the Alliance reaping what they sowed when they killed my mate. 

Secondly, to answer your question, yes, I am related to Shyrka Wolfrunner. You see, she is my cousin – the daughter of my father’s brother. Our family has a tradition of keeping and breeding wolves for mounted travel and combat – not as exciting as the Saurfang warrior line, I know, but one I am no less proud of. I’m told my father maintained the last wolf kennel on Draenor before it was destroyed, working for the Thunderlord Clan while the clans were ruled by Shadowmoon and the fallen Great Shaman, Ner’zhul. 

For your wyvern’s new, ahem, ‘habits’, I have a solution. Such stains are easily removed using a solution made from ground-up Fadeleaf and Sungrass. Since the ingredients are found so far apart from each other, I enclose a sample in the flask attached to this letter. With any luck, Overlord Malkorok will no longer have to worry about stains on his boots. To prevent it from happening again, your guards should walk up and down. Animals will not do their business on moving objects. 

Finally, if you’re interested, Warchief, I have a wolf you may wish to take for your Kor’kron mounted forces. He is the pride of his litter, one of two pups who are stronger, tougher and more agile than any of their siblings. Most of my wolves are sold to greenhorn adventurers, carrying them across Azeroth on their quests or into the fray in a battleground, but this wolf, Grimjaw, and his younger sister are being held in reserve for special occasions. The younger one, Blackfang, is for my son, a present for when he comes of age. Grimjaw was to be an anniversary present for Detanga, to replace her last wolf who died of old age some time ago, but as you know, that is now a moot point.

I was originally worried about what would happen to my wolvess if any of them were taken to the Kor’kron stables, but before I started writing this my daughter asked me, “Daddy, when will Mummy be coming home from her ‘expitition’?” because I hadn’t the heart to tell her, and nothing has ever hurt me so much as telling her that her mother will never come home, and seeing the tears well up in her eyes, and holding her and her brother to my chest while doing my best not to cry myself. 

They deserve to have their mother hold them in her arms and tell them how proud she is of them. I can’t give them that, but if my wolves can bear your warriors into battle so that no more sons and daughters will grow up without a parent, I will have served my Horde well and given Detanga’s spirit cause to rest in peace. 

Yours faithfully, 

–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master

OH, FUCKING HELL, dude, how many times are you going to bring the damn room down?!

I mean. Um. Yeah, uh, still sorry for the loss of your wife, Ogunaro. And, I mean, that whole story about your wolves, and your daughter, and having to… um… explain what… erm… what happened… and… And hang on, um, I think it must be hayfever season or some shit, I need to… yeah, hold up, I need blow my nose. Or something.

AHRRM. OKAY. Fucking weird…there must be something in the air or something. Hrrmph. Ahem. Okay. OKAY.

So.

I appreciate the offer of the wolf, Ogunaro. I’ll be honored to take Grimjaw into the Kor’kron fold. Rest assured, considering what he means to you, he’ll be well taken care of, and as a mater of fact, I’ll make sure he’s groomed for a role of some importance. Now, mind you, I’m already good on mounts – everybody who reads the blog is familiar with Mortimer, obviously, but even on the wolf end of things, I’m covered what with me already having Malak. But… I think I have a job that would suit Grimjaw just fine. Stay tuned.

 

Lok’tar Warchief!

I know you answered my letter in the last mailbag, but that was a really long time ago. Like, longer than the wait between Winter’s Veil and Noblegarden! Anyway, I thought you’d like another update on my training! I still do the meat shield thing, and boy do things drop super fast when my shield meets their faces! I’m actually in Outland now! Can you believe it?! I even had enough gold to buy my own wyvern from the nice lady in Orgrimmar. I think his name is George. At least, he likes it when I call him that.

Me and George have been having all kinds of fun! We even met a nice zombie man who took us through some smelly dungeons full of red orcs and those snake people so I could learn how to warrior better! He was really cool for being a zombie.

Oh! I even met some brown orcs like you! They didn’t like me at first, but their shaman said she trusted me. Then I said you were my Warchief and they liked me! They even kept me safe from those big robots that roam around!

Anyway, I think this letter’s gone on long enough. Plus George is looking for his wyvern chow.

–Mirembe

PS: I had so many teeth from shield bashing that I made you a necklace to thank you. It has to be better than those silly charm bracelets you get every year!

Hey, Mirembe. Glad the training is coming along. Grats on the wyvern – trust me, you’ll love having one. It takes a little time for you to get used to each other, but once you do, you’ve got yourself a loyal companion for life. They DO seem to have some lame-ass names, though. Don’t know what to make of that.

Anyway, make sure you check in with me before you go back to what’s-her-face to upgrade your flying license and kick George up to the fast lane. I’ll see to it that they hook you up with the trainee discount. The discount being that they charge you with an I.O.U. that they have to come to me personally to collect, in whatever amount they feel comfortable coming to ask me for face-to-face, alone in a closed room, where I have Gorehowl hanging on the wall while I kick back in a chair carved out of a giant skull. Should save you a coin or two.

And hey, sounds like you’re getting in good with the Mag’har. Sweet! If you’re rolling around in Outland helping them out, you’re probably going to wind up in Nagrand before too long. Gotta admit I miss the place…it’s been too long since I’ve been around. When you get there, make sure you look up Greatmother Geyah. She pretty much raised me after my mom died. Sweet lady, definitely get in good with her, but, word of advice? When you talk to her, when she starts asking about your life, don’t volunteer any more information than you have to. Give her too many details to sink her teeth in, and trust me, she will try to greatmother you the fuck to DEATH. Still, tell her I said hi. Also, if you happen to see Jorin Deadeye while you’re out there, tell him I said fuck you. Dude’s a dick. Always gave me a hard time, when we were kids, about Grom being the one who doomed our people. Like HIS dad was any hot shit. Fucker.

And hey, thanks for the necklace. It actually kinda looks like the one I made myself years and years ago. See, it’s a tradition in the Warsong clan to make a necklace from bones or teeth from your earliest kills, carved with ceremonial runes. The teeth from this necklace weren’t from your FIRST kills, right? I wouldn’t want to take those from you – those should be yours. Otherwise, though, awesome. I appreciate the gesture, as long as it’s not stepping on ceremonial toes. Come to think of it, Mira, which clan are you from?

 

Hey mon,

Can’tcha say somethin’ nice ’bout trolls, mon?

–Zim’bobwe, Sen’jinn Village

No.

Okay, okay, fine. Ben-Lin’s been on me to try to be more positive, so maybe if I scrape up something here it’ll shut her the fuck up for ten seconds about me being fucking negative like that shit’s any of her business in the first place. For fuck’s sake.

What was I saying? Oh. Yeah. Fucking trolls.

So, okay, fine. Something nice about trolls. And I’m even going to try not to be snarky and say something like “Well at least they’re mortal so I know they’ll die eventually.” Even though that’s totally true, and a definite plus. Where was I again? Fuck, I’m losing focus a lot today. Might have had too much kafa. Anyway.

So yeah. Something nice about trolls. So okay, here we go.

Those motherfuckers can dance. Like they’ve got moves like nobody’s business. Especially some of those troll girls, because…you know what? I don’t like trolls as a general rule, but…every so often, you have to entertain exceptions.

Yeah, yeah, fine, give me looks. Check ’em out sometime. NO JURY WOULD CONVICT ME.

 

Dear Warchief,

After your recent (and highly illuminating) live blog, I decided to look into this Ask.fm site you’d mentioned. After entertaining a handful of questions though, something strange started happening. Some anonymous person or people seemed determined to keep asking me questions that weren’t really questions, just requests for “Pap of house,” “Pap of your room,” and maybe most distressing “Pap of feet.” I have no idea what they’re asking. You seem to be more familiar with internet customs than I am Warchief – what does this “pap” mean, and why is this person so interested in it? And what does it have to do with my feet??

–Disturbed In Durotar

Oh geez.

Welcome to the world of internet jackassery, DID. If this is your first encounter with it, congratulations on logging on to the internet for the first time ever this week.

So…the “PAP” thing. Yeah. I get this, too. So apparently, it’s an acronym, only I don’t really want to call it an acronym because “acronym” sounds like something that should be at least marginally smart rather than the soul-bleeding exhibition of stupid that almost invariably goes hand-in-hand with this little gem. But I guess it’s supposed to stand for “Post A Picture.” So the people you’ve heard from apparently want to see your house, your room, and your feet, and honest to fuck I couldn’t even take a guess at which of those you should be more fucking disturbed about. Maybe your feet. But I guess that might depend on how much cool stuff you’ve got at your house that these fuckers might try to break in and steal.

You know what? No. It’s the feet thing. Because seriously, internet freak shows, seriously.

Speaking of which, kind of. Like I said, I’ve gotten these “PAP” questions a lot, too. Like, relentlessly. And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one. And I know I’ve made this point on Ask.fm before, but on the off chance any of these PAP-spamming fucknoses are reading this now, I’d like to take a moment here to address them directly:

Good evening, wastes of life.

I can understand why you value efficiency. I get it. I really do. You people clearly have rich, busy lives, skulking around in your caves and musing over what it would be like if someone could invent some magical substance that would remove the stink from your assorted crevices with the mere addition of water. Maybe they could package the stuff in solid cakes small enough to hold in one hand. I’m just spitballing here.

Point is, you want to be time-efficient because you’ve got shit to do. You can’t burn up your whole afternoon search-and-pecking your way through whole words, because dammit, you’ve got business to tend to on the internet, and if you can’t cut a few corners on questions you’re voluntarily posting to people who don’t give a fuck about you, well then, that’s less time you can devote to running around posting other comments like, say:

comment1

Because then who the fuck is going to illustrate irony for people so they can understand what it is? Or maybe you need to get around to your blog reading so you can offer incisive commentary like:

comment2

Because FUCK THAT GUY, THAT’S WHY. FUCK HIM IN THE ASS WITH A PITCHFORK-MOUNTED JACKHAMMER. POINT BEING. You’ve got shit to do and you don’t have time to waste writing out whole words like “for” and “you” and “are,” and spirits fucking save us if you ever need to say “you are,” because now we’re getting into your/you’re territory and at that point holy shit ALL bets are fucking off.

So I get it. I do. You’ve got places to go (virtually) and people to meet (i.e., to yell at online with a raging bitterness despite never having met these people in reality) and you can’t have trivial things like keystrokes and complete words standing between you and your complete and utter worthlessness as a living being.

Here’s the thing.

And I can’t stress this enough.

YOU’RE NOT EVEN SAVING YOURSELF ANY FUCKING KEYSTROKES WITH THE FUCKING “PAP” THING. You can just type “pic” and ask the same damn thing, and still use the exact same number of letters. IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME, LOOK, WE’LL COUNT TOGETHER. ONE, TWO, THREE – the number of letters in “PAP.” ONE, TWO, THREE – the number of letters in “pic.” ONE, TWO, THREE – your total number of IQ points. SEE HOW IT ALL WORKS OUT? WERE YOU ABLE TO FOLLOW THAT DEMONSTRATION OR DO I NEED TO GET A FUCKING PURPLE SAN’LAYN PUPPET IN HERE TO TAKE YOU THROUGH IT AGAIN?

And hey, guess what, while you’re at it saying “pic” like a normal person who hasn’t been beaten in the head with a brick for six hours straight by everyone who’s ever lived plus six more guys, you also have the ADDED bonus of NOT reminding people of a fucking medical procedure that NO ONE HAS EVER HAD HAPPY ASSOCIATIONS WITH EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVER.

So listen – if you have “PAP” as part of your functional vocabulary, here’s what you need to do. Go get a chisel. Now grab onto the fucker real real tight – like imagine the chisel is your dick and you just found footage online of someone being really unhappy and you’re getting ready to jerk off to that shit, because FUCK YOU – and jam that chisel right up into your brain and shove it around until you’ve scraped all memory of this “PAP” shit right the fuck out of there forever. Okay? Stop it. Just stop it. “PAP” us no more “PAPs.” ENOUGH ALREADY. ENOUGH. KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF, AND I HOPE YOU DIE.

I’m glad we had this little talk.

 

More soon.

 

Next mailbag May 4! E-mail garrosh1337@gmail.com or submit your message below: