Tag Archives: red pox

Mak’gora, verbal style








I got the Scourge under wraps, so this round won’t be postponed.
Good thing Blackmoore named you Thrall, ’cause you’re about to be owned.
“Green Jesus,” never wrong? You were never warrior-strong –
Now I’ll shove those beads around your neck back up where they belong.
Aedelas gave you training; Taretha gave you sympathy;
I won’t say what Jaina gave you, but it’s BoP.
You might as well call yourself human, how you were shaped and apprenticed;
All you need’s some beige paint and a trip to the dentist.
Your reign as Warchief was a joke, and you are as well:
Every time I hear your name, I Go’EL-OH-EL.
You left me picking up your mess, and then I watched you leave it:
You failed to serve the Horde – now I’ll crush you beneath it. 


Too often since I went away I’ve heard tell of your crimes,
And I don’t know what disappoints me more: you or your rhymes.
I led the orcs from enslavement to the land we inhabit;
I only made one mistake – and I’m looking at it.
You’re not worthy of your line, you’re twisted as an ampersand;
You’re rhymes are weak and I won’t cheer, but I might give you a big hand.
You’ll keep losing your supporters and the lands you used to hold;
From your mailbag to your reign, you just keep on getting trolled.
So when they finally lead you off bound with chains and rope,
Where you’re going, drop some rhymes – but watch you don’t drop the soap.
I was blind to your crimes, but now you’ve gone past the line;
Now it’s time you finally answered— 

[Thrall hurls the Doomhammer at Garrosh; before it reaches him, though, Orgrim Doomhammer leaps in and catches it.]


                                             Yeah, I think this is mine.
Step aside for a real Warchief; challenge me, you’re going to lose.
You might wear my battle armor, but you could never fill my shoes.
Blackhand left our people pinned under Gul’dan’s thumb;
I showed a race enslaved that they could overcome;
I thought that you were fated to hold fast what we created,
But the going got unstable, and the unstable abdicated.
You made a half-assed call not knowing what the pros and cons were;
You played Frankenstein, then washed your hands of your monster.
And you now, Orcish Karloff – you plagued our kind like a pox,
And locked away our people’s hopes inside a heart-shaped box.
We both tried to tear an Anduin limb from unskilled limb,
Only mine was an adult – and I actually killed him.
Your challenge was a waste of time; you should have withdrawn it,
’Cause I own you both like the city that’s got my name written on it. 

[The wall behind them crumbles to reveal a makeshift Dark Portal, through which Blackhand emerges.]


You people must be joking; now you might as well bounce,
Because you’re never trounce the one and only Warchief who counts.
The first to be crowned, rhyming fury unbound;
I built a mighty war machine – you ran it into the ground.
Well I’m back – I was the first, the best to rally orcish masses,
Now I’ll T.H. White Once-and-Future on your asses.
I’m unimpressed, Orgrim, with the rhymes you’ve busted.
Now I’ll correct my one mistake: thinking you could be trusted.
Our bond was iron, loyalty withstanding any test;
Your oath was what a noob picks through on an Outland quest.
So bring it on, Backstabber, and I’ll swat you right back;
You pose no threat; you’d better bet the pimp Hand is Black.


You want to take me on, Blackhand? You’d best hope for luck,
’Cause you only ever beat me in a timeline that sucks.
Lust for power kept you dreaming, so you were blind to Gul’dan’s scheming,
Then you followed Hellscream’s lead and sold us out to the demons.
You were Warchief in name, but power? Every last ounce’ll
Dribble down to you for show, straight from the Shadow Council.
It wasn’t till I took command that the First War was won—


And then you led us to internment – yeah, nice work there, son.


We led the orcs back from the fall your madness brought on;
You may be Medivh’s king, but you were Gul’dan’s pawn.
You were a figurehead at best, with a fel employer;
It was only to your own kind that you were the Destroyer.
Oh, but since you mention sons, yours tried to demand
That he should rule, but he got his – by the Warchief’s command.


Oh, look, the junior partner – sad you’re what would become of us;
No surprise, though; like your father, you were never really one of us.
Go play dress-up all you want; fish for praise but you won’t get it,
You just let others do the work and then swoop in to take the credit.
I earned my place as the greatest, and that glory will last—


At least till Metzen gets another retcon hair up his ass…


Yes, let’s get to you, pox boy, we’ll finish this quickly.
You’ve got rhymes like your childhood: rejected and sickly.
You couldn’t even finish this sad son of Durotan’s –
You should have Bane’d his back in half when you had the chance.
Captain Hammer here’s weak, but he still brought you ruination—


That’s only ’cause I didn’t gem plot armor penetration.
Now you two old-school has-beens, watch your legacies unravel;
You’re done and gone (except for maybe FUCKING TIME TRAVEL).
My line is stuff of legends; your alias is famed –
They must have thought you’re Tom Riddle, ’cause you couldn’t be named.
I own my every call, each choice a notch in my own belt;
You couldn’t be more of a puppet if they’d made you out of felt.
I’m triumphant and a hero! I’ve slain humans, drakes, and liches!
I ride a wyvern that’s more badass than any of you bitches!
The greatest Warchief of them all, from the last to the first –
Epic mount, epic name, epic life, EPIC VERSE!








[A quick two-part programming note: First, keep those suggestions coming! While they will no longer be a regular weekly feature (because, whew, these are hard to write on a tight schedule!), I may still sprinkle them into the blog now and again, if these great suggestions keep coming in and people seem to be enjoying them.

Second — I’ve decided to push Garrosh’s next mailbag from this coming Monday to the following Monday (May 11), to allow the blog’s “main storyline” events to reach a point where the mailbag will seem less forced. After this month, we’ll be back to our normal schedule of a mailbag the first Monday of each month. Keep those letters coming!]


Monday mailbag


So, I know I have plenty to update you all on after last time, but before I start getting into any of that, it’s time to dip into the mail…


A few questions for the Warchief:

I’ve noticed that Saurfang has not shown up in the EO chat logs for quite a while. Has he been dropped from the guild or simply quit playing?

Garona seems fairly, well… Bipolar. Has anyone thought to see if Faranell has some sort of magical or alchemical cure?

Why do folks get bent out of shape when I grab a burger? Tauren aren’t cows, so it’s not canabalism.

What is your favorite spirit or brew? I’m willing to buy you and Malkorok a drink, although I suggest not drinking his.

Karlsohn, Thunder Bluff

Hey, Karlsohn, thanks for writing. I guess I’ll tackle these in order:

Yeah, you know, I was thinking of this when I logged on the other day. For those of you who might not remember, I got Saurfang to give EO a try with a refer-a-friend invite a while back, and got him into the guild. He seemed to take to the game well enough, and was flying through levels for a while there, but then he just stopped turning up. Like I said, this occurred to me the other day, so I looked up his last login – he hasn’t been online since around the time of the Theramore victory. I guess EO didn’t grow on him THAT much, or maybe he got to the point where he was going to have to start paying the monthly subscription, and, well, you know how old guys are about parting with their hard-earned coppers. And it’s not like I’ve been in contact with him much since things started heating up in Pandaria, so, y’know, your guess is as good as mine there.

Holy fucking hell, Karlsohn, that idea is frigging BRILLIANT. Why the fuck did nobody think of this before? Assuming Faranell’s got anything in that lab of his that’s not…y’know…fucking acid or something, he’s got to have SOMETHING that can even Garona out. And if he doesn’t, I’ll take the acid. You know the old saying: sprits grant me the strength to fix the things I can, the acid to liquefy the things I can’t, and the…um…some third thing I don’t really care about. Anyway.

Don’t worry about the tauren, they’re just sensitive like that. I’ve tried making the exact same point with them, but apparently cows are close enough to give them the heebie-jeebies. Personally, I think they need to learn to relax a little, because let’s face it – so far in recent memory we’ve established relations with cow people, lizard people, bear people, goat people, buffalo people, walrus people, spider people, fish people, cat people, bear people again, monkey people, and bug people. At the rate we’re going, if we make a point of not eating anything that resembles a race we know, the menu is going to get real short real fast.

I’m pretty fond of Blackrock Lager. Also, the ogre brew I tried last time I was in Outland packed a pretty good punch. (Don’t try mixing it with felweed, though.) Also, don’t worry about me drinking Malkorok’s drink. True fact: the guy is really big on those fruity weirdo drinks, like the ones that always come with those little umbrellas in them. I mean, I like some cherry grog now and again, but that’s as far as I go.


I’m going to be a warrior, much to Matron Battlewail’s dis disapt well, she isn’t happy. Do you have any advice for a newblood like me? I want to bring glory to the Horde, but not if I trip while charging at the training dummies! What if that happens in battle?! I don’t want to make you and the Horde unhappy!


Mirembe, Orgrimmar

Lok’tar, Mirembe, thanks for writing. Try not to worry about Battlewail too much. She always seems to have some kind of complaint about something. “What about the children?” my ass.

Anyway, if you’re having trouble with your warrioring, have I ever got some good news for you. There’s sort of a boot camp off the coast of the Barrens where you can go to work on your skills, above and beyond what you get from your regular trainer. Matter of fact, it used to be the only place where warriors could learn Berserker Stance, before it sold out and went all mainstream. So, next time you manage to give Battlewail the slip, head on down to Fray Island. It’ll be tough going at first, I’m not going to lie, but give it time. Orgrimmar wasn’t built in a day (especially that front gate, post-Cataclysm, because goblin contractors), and remember, there’s no shame in not being as awesome as me right off the bat. Well, okay, there’s a little shame, but not much. Point is, stick with the program, hang in there through the rough patches, and they’ll make a man out of you. Unless you’re a girl. In which case they’ll… erm… um… that is… they’ll…do something. Something good. Or whatever. SEE, POLITICAL CORRECTNESS RUINED A PERFECTLY GOOD PEP TALK THERE.


Ey, warchief, didja know dat wyvern got three ballsacks? Dat’s all.



I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again.

Felweed is a hell of a drug.

Yeah, these are my readers. Sadly.


Please explain Twitter. I try to explain it to some other orcs, but they think its only to tell people that you’re going to the bathroom or to post pictures of food. It got even worse when Dontrag and Utvoch got involved to explain Twitter.

Sir, seriously, why are some orcs so damn dumb? It’s embarrassing.

Ruekie (@RuekieShaman), Shaman-in-training

FOR FUCK’S SAKE, REUKIE – um, I mean, for crying out loud, Reukie (YOU HUSH NOW, BATTLEWAIL), DO NOT TELL DONTRAG AND UTVOCH ABOUT TWITTER. Are you freaking kidding me? There isn’t enough failure and jackassery on the internet already? No. Just NO. A world of no. All the no that’s ever been ’no’wn.

But anyway, fine, I’ll try to help you explain the whole Twitter thing. I’m really kind of amazed that there are people so stupid that they don’t already know what it is. So, Twitter is this… thing…on the internet. Where you go and type stuff. Like publicly. On a web site. Unless you’re doing it on an app. (Which I am in NO WAY WHATSOEVER going to try to explain to the Wonder Twins.) And so you can type things into Twitter, and other people on the internet can read it and respond and shit. It’s kind of like having a little tiny blog, read by other people with little tiny blogs, only you all have fucking nuclear ADD so you can’t stay focused on any post longer than 140 characters. Or I guess you could maybe think of it like texting, if your texts weren’t being sent to anyone in particular. So you go to send a text, and when the little texting robot asks you who to send it to, you just throw up your hands and you’re all “Fuck it, whoever, I don’t care. Everyone. Send it to everyone, ever.” That’s Twitter.

Let me stress again: D&U, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO START FUCKING AROUND WITH TWITTER. Although, it actually MIGHT be funny to get Tirion started on it, and then see how many times he runs up against the 140-character limit before his fucking head explodes.


Dear exalted Warchief,

As we have seen, when Ji Firepaw was first introduced to you, he (as a mark of respect for and recognition of your status) called you Emperor. You appeared to take violent offense to that, and my question is, why? You fit the definition. You are the undisputed ruler of both your own national people, and a wide-ranging (multi-continental) group of non-orc nations, who none-the-less submit to you. (Even we of the Ebon Blade, though not a nation as such, acknowledge your position. Well, most of us. Some of us. Whatever.)

–Sintra E’Drien

See, I think you’re misreading me there, Sintra. People seem to do that a lot. I swear, if people keep pointing out my “violent offense” at things, I’m going to start thinking that maybe possibly YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKERS THINK I’VE GOT A FUCKING TEMPER OR SOME SHIT.

That said, I was pretty much correcting Ji simply because “Warchief” is my title, not “Emperor.” Officially. Yet. You’re right, though — I DO fit the definition. Seeing as how “Warchief” has been the title for a good long while, though, I figure I should keep rolling with it until I do something that, say, leads to a dramatic increase in Horde territory, power, and influence. Like, I don’t know, wiping out a rival power or three and annexing their lands. Now, see, THEN you could make a pretty good case that the Horde had achieved honest-to-fuck imperial status. And at THAT point, well, I can’t see there being much opposition at all to a triumphant leader declaring himself Emperor. Which DOES have a ring to it, I have to admit. Maybe I’ll even have some new processional music written up for myself and everything.


If you had the opportunity to meet your younger self, let’s say at 5 years old, what would you say to the young Garrosh?

What do you imagine that youngster would think of you?

Kee, Jade Forest, Pandaria

Okay, first of all, considering all the timey-whimey shit I’ve already had to deal with, don’t even JOKE about shit like that. Haven’t we dodged enough bullets with time being fucked with? Do we have to sit down and come up with MORE clusterfuckery we could stir up for ourselves? Seriously, at this point, I don’t even want to be REMINDED of the Bronze Dragonflight. If I ever see any of those fuckers again, it’ll be too soon. Or too late. That is…um… FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.

But okay, if you want to play some weird hypothetical game with this, here. If I could talk to 5-year-old me – at which point I would have JUST been recovering from the red pox, and my mom would have still been alive – I would mostly tell him to spare himself the whiny emo phase, because Grom was actually pretty awesome. Don’t take everything at face value – yeah, on the surface it looks like the old man was a real piece of work, but it turns out that he was a hero in the end, and nobody even knew. And I have to figure young-me would listen, because he’d be sharp enough to take one look at how awesome he grows up to be and figure, damn, I must know what I’m talking about.

Oh, yeah, and while I was at it, I would tell myself to lay off the draenei chicks, because man oh man, is THAT one ever going to come back to bite you in the ass.

Speaking of which…


Heeey, how ya doing Hellscream!

My name is Kitti Scrollwiki, Goblin Scribe for the Azeroth Inquirer, Horde Edition. There are raging hot rumors about you and my readers everywhere just want to know more!

Who is Shayari’s mother? It is rumored she is Draenei. Is this true?

How long ago did this happen?

Is the mother very pretty? What attracted you to her?

How did you meet?

How long was your romance with her?

What food would best describe her?

Did Greatmother know? How did she respond?

Where can we find her now?

Is there any chance of reconciliation with her?

Are you paying child support?

How are your current girlfriend(s) reacting to all this? For that matter….who are your current girlfriend(s)? Inquiring minds want to know!

Oh, oh, oh, oh….

IS IT TRUE YOU ARE SHAYARI’S FATHER? (I almost forgot that, silly me.) This has been the hot topic of Orgrimmar while you were gone.

(By the way, if you have any juicy details you want to share, you know, just between you and me…I won’t tell anyone. On my honor as a Goblin.)

Don’t delay in responding! The Love Is In The Air followup edition is preparing to go out and this will make the pages sizzle! Hellscream’s Torrid Love Affair! Cha-ching!

Keep it real!

Kitti Scrollwiki, Scribe, Azeroth Inquirer, Horde Edition

Yeah, so, I had to figure I was going to have to deal with some shit like this. As much as we’re trying to keep a lid on the whole Shayari deal, you had to know some rumors would start slipping out. So…same as with the letter further above, let me take these in order:

Shayari’s mother’s name was Marsiya. Yes, she was a draenei. I mean, really, have you seen Shayari? You weren’t able to piece that much together? Incisive journalistic mind you’ve got, I see.

Shayari’s seventeen years old. Why don’t you get out a pencil and paper and see if you can math out your own answer to this one.

What, you think I’d go slumming? Even back then, I didn’t have to settle. THE LADIES LOVE GARROSH.

Our eyes met from across the crowd. The moon was full and bright, its luminous glow dancing upon the surface of the water, and the air was sweet with honeysuckle. Across the lakeside pavilion, orc and draenei spun and danced in dizzying spectacle as the midsummer gala launched into its annual reverie. Distant voices, mirthful and musical, whispered unnoticed through the warm breeze, the whole of our attentions rapt upon each other’s gaze, in one of those singular moments both uncanny and sublime in which the universe seems, fleetingly, to reveal itself to the soul. IS THAT THE KIND OF SHIT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR? Fucking hell.  We both lived in broke-ass starving villages shoved off into the ass end of a planet that some fuckhead went and blew up. What the fuck do you THINK we were doing? We were both out hunting to see if we could find enough food so that, hey, maybe THIS week half a dozen people we know WON’T croak, and we ended up fighting over who had dibs on that extra-meaty-looking talbuk, and somewhere in middle of kicking each other’s asses we took a good look and realized, hey, this one’s not half bad.

Depending on how you count, two months or eight minutes. Admittedly, not my best work.

Fish, because I hear tell fish is brain food, and she obviously was smart enough to know not to ask a FUCKING STUPID-ASS QUESTION LIKE THIS ONE.

NO SHE DID NOT. And does not. And still has a fucking killer right hook, so ixnay on abbingblay, for fuck’s sake, okay?

Go to Nagrand, pick a patch of ground that looks good to you, dig about six feet down, and cross your fingers.

See above. Unless you brought a Ouija board, not likely.

Oh, I’m paying, all right. I’m paying.

No comment. Also no comment. And ESPECIALLY no comments from YOU, Garona.

And finally: No comment. Classified. Matters of internal security.

Okay. Deftly handled, if I do say so myself. Hopefully that puts an end to the Shayari inquiries.


Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde,

I write to you after witnessing the disgusting perversion you show towards my people, specifically a child who may or may not be sired by you. I can see clearly that your kind are filthy mongrels even outside of battle, and will never be among the holy Naaru you pig fucking animals. Goodbye and may the Naaru char your city to dust.

Vindicator Toriix, Exodar

Or not.


As the child in question might say, you mad, bro?

I mean, really, I don’t know what you’ve got going on over at the Exodar – other than, y’know, hanging out with the talking chandelier and disco dancing like a motherfucker – but woo boy, you need to relax like nobody’s business. Seriously, dude, you need to get laid or something. Believe me, it’ll help you unwind.

Speaking of which, I’m not going to dignify perversion-this and mongrels-that with a response, but I do have to correct you on point of fact: not pig-fucking. Goat. Goat.

P.S. Your mom says hi.



That does it for this week, but as always, keep those letters coming. E-mail me at garrosh1337@gmail.com or use the handy-dandy form below.

More soon.



Monday mailbag


Okay, people, it’s been WAY too long since I’ve dipped into the ol’ mailbag, and I have a HUGE backlog of letters, so let’s get right to it, shall we?


Hail Warchief!

The Feast of Winter Veil is approaching, and it made me think. What do you hope to get from Greatfather Winter this year? Do you have any special family traditions? I look forward to seeing Orgrimmar all decorated for the festivities.
Happy Holidays!

–Lorewalker Shara

PS you may want to avoid using tinsel to decorate around Mortimer, unless you like festive poop! Might be a good idea to keep Taktani away from it too, thinking about it.

Hey, Shara, thanks for writing. Hopefully Orgrimmar is looking all Winter Veily these days. I’ll be back for a check-in soon, but I’m probably only going to make it back to town JUST in time to catch the end of the festivities. As for my wish list… I remember addressing this point a couple years ago, and most of the stuff on that list still stands – especially Varian and Magatha’s heads on pikes – but there are a few more things I can think of that I might add to the list for this year.

  • An actual explanation that makes sense for what the hell was going on with Mokvar while I was away.
  • A wireless network here in Pandaria that’s actually reliable, so I can log onto Earth Online without it being a fucking comedy show.
  • An on-site goblin tech guy who can maintain that network without the whole thing going kablooey and spitting out two burnt pieces of toast every time there’s a breeze, because let me tell you, Grizzle Gearslip ain’t happening.

Come to think of it, so far all of these could pretty much be covered if I could get a bunch more Spazzles. Because really, as much as I clown on the guy, he actually knows what he’s doing and gets shit done, and unlike half these other jokers, I don’t have to worry about him running around behind my back doing spirits-know-what. So, other additions to the list:

  • A scribe that doesn’t have traitorous tendencies, a busted-up writing hand, or the disposition of a six-year-old on a sugar high from eating all the Hallow’s End candy EVER.
  • The secret to controlling the sha.
  • A First War commemorative chess set. This is the normal-sized, less creepy version of the chess set Medivh had over in Karazhan. It’s been rumored to be in the works for years, and I’ve finally started to see them showing up on ebAH. Yes, I play chess. Don’t act all surprised, for fuck’s sake.
  • Varian’s head on a pike. Did I mention this one?

As far as having family traditions for Winter Veil…not really. I mean, keep in mind, Winter Veil is a pretty recent thing for us Mag’har. We didn’t have Winter Veil back in Nagrand, so we only started picking it up at all after Thrall came out to Garadar a few years ago. Greatmother Geyah really has taken a liking to it, but that’s about it. Plus, not to get maudlin and shit, but it’s kind of hard to have family traditions when you don’t really have a family. I mean, I never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was young. I’m an only child. As far as I know. Assuming Grom wasn’t a bigger pimp than anybody’s given him credit for. Anyhow, point being, Greatmother is pretty much the only family I’ve got nowadays, and even SHE’s not a blood relation – she’s just the one that raised me after Lakkara died. So, yeah. AREN’T YOU HAPPY YOU BROUGHT THAT UP? BET YOU FEEL PROUD.


Greetings Warchief!

I am in desperate need of your assistance. I approached Regent Lord Lor’themar with my issue but he said that it was beyond his scope and directed me to contact you.

I recently inherited a house and it is in terrible need of redecoration. You have done a great deal of renovation recently and I was wondering if you could give me some tips to make my house look amazing. Attached is a picture of the house.




Grats on the new house, Tegwin. Not so grats on the place looking like such a shithole. Because, yeah, that place needs some work. I mean, seriously…the wispy, billowy day-glow curtains? A bearskin rug with the bear head still attached? Strewn out there like you’re getting ready to do a photo shoot you already know you’re going to regret in five years? And… Is…is that a hookah? Just sitting there, right out in the open, in the living room? What are you, one semester removed from college and stuck with a slacker troll roommate who keeps swearing he’ll have his half of the rent this month, and this time he means it, mon, only you know perfectly well that’s not happening because felweed’s a hell of a drug?

So, okay, a few things. You have to lose the pastels, first of all. I know that probably goes against every last one of your blood elf sensibilities, but trust me on this. You want strong, commanding colors – the kind that will make people think “Holy fuck, some serious shit goes on in this place” when they walk in. Lots of reds and grays. Err on the side of darker. Go too dark with the red and you get a bloody crimson, which is still pretty badass. Go too light and you get pink. See where I’m going with this?

Mount some weapons on the walls. If you haven’t cleaned them lately and they’ve got some bloodstains, all the better. It adds to the color scheme I’m talking about, plus it conveys a message of “This person is not to be fucked with.” Spikes. You can never have too many spikes. Or skulls. Get some skulls in there. If you can carve up the body of one of your enemies and, say, make their skull into a chair for yourself, awesome. Or maybe turn their bones into an end table. A hat rack will do in a pinch. If you haven’t killed any notable enemies lately, but you’ve got an infamous foe that you really only know by reputation but somebody in your family killed, and you have THEIR remains somewhere handy, that’s just as good, because that fucker was brought down by your bloodline (AGAIN NOTICE THE BLOOD MOTIF) and you totally deserve to share credit for the accomplishment.

This is all for your living room, of course, and I know my tastes can be a little hardcore. I figured you might want to take it down a notch or two for your bedroom, so I went to Garona to get a woman’s opinion. Didn’t get very far, though. I told her I had a question about the bedroom and tried to ask her if she matches her rugs and curtains, or words to that effect, but she just got all pissy for some reason. So, not much help there. I seriously don’t know what’s up with her sometimes.

Speaking of which…


Dear Warchief,

I’m writing this letter to you in secret and I hope it gets to you and I’m not killed in the process. *looks around*

It’s about Garona Halforcen. Sir, she scares the everliving shi—uh—crap out of me. *looks around again*

I happened upon some history stuff about her and now I’m all confused. She was there when the first invasion from the Dark Portal, then she had a kid with an old man, and she is half-orc, half-dradne dranin demon *looks up spelling* DRAENAI. (She looks like an orc. Smells like one too. I don’t see it.)

Now I’m all confused and sitting in a dark tunnel with a lot of thinking time had me thinking about her again.

What I want to know…*looks around*

How old is she? She’s got to be like….ANCIENT. *hides paper, looks around*

She doesn’t make sense and I don’t want to ask her. She’s scary.

–Ruekie, Shaman In Training

PS: There’s a lot of talk lately with the orc kids about the Red Pox, and if there is something scarier than Garona it’s that. I heard you had it once. Did it hurt? Can you get it again? Can we get it? Can an outbreak happen again? Too many questions and we are getting freaked out. Like FREAKED out. Really.

Okay, first of all… Um, Ruekie, you realize we were JUST in those caves all alone and out of earshot of Garona, right? Not sure why you didn’t just ask your questions THEN, but whatever. Kids.

First, the Red Pox? No, seriously, you don’t want to get into the Red Pox, that was just a bad scene all around. I don’t know why you kids would be talking about it now, but really, just let that shit die. Nobody needs to be digging up THOSE memories for anybody.

Okay, now that that’s settled, on to your main point. Yeah, I’ll grant you the scary thing with Garona. Scariest bitch I know who hasn’t come back from the dead. Although it’s probably a sad statement about my life that the list of people I know who HAVE come back from dead is a lot longer than you would figure. Because – I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before – NOBODY STAYS FUCKING DEAD ANYMORE.

Anyway, here’s the deal with Garona. Yeah, she’s half orc, half draenei. Back in the day, Gul’dan bred an orc and a draenei to create a personal assassin – enter Garona. Yeah, she looks mostly orcish, but I guess these racial mixes are kind of a crap shoot as far as which race’s physical traits you get.

Anyhow, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure exactly when Gul’dan actually orchestrated her birth. I know it was definitely before the Dark Portal opened, and that was about 30 years ago, but before that, there was a window of about 20 years when Gul’dan was up to some Really Bad Shit, so the breeding experiment could have happened anywhere in there. Let’s shave off the first couple years to give Gul’dan time to come up with this idea and for Garona to be brought to term. That would mean that Garona would have to be anywhere from, say, 32 (She’s not. Seriously. I’m 35. There’s no damn way she’s younger than me.) to around 48 or so. Anywhere in between, your guess is as good as mine.

Hang on, though – this gets more complicated when you add the fact that Gul’dan had Garona aged magically so that she could get right to work, no childhood needed. Swell guy, huh? Anyway, the age of adulthood among orcs varies a little from clan to clan, usually somewhere from 13 to 15. (Yeah, I know, kid, can you believe it? Technically you’re an adult. Hard to imagine you’re a grown-up, huh? Well, let me clue you in on a little secret: That thought won’t stop seeming weird for another 20 years.) So that would mean, however old Garona is according to the calendar, she really has the body of a woman 13-some-odd years older. So now we’re looking at a physical age putting her somewhere between 45 and, like, 60-something. Which is kind of a big deal when you consider that 70 is about as old as you could reasonably hope to live as an orc, even if you do a perfect job taking care of yourself.

Oh, but hang on, we’re not done yet. It’s about to get more complicated. (Don’t look at me – I didn’t make this shit up.) Because, see, since Garona has that draenei half, her aging is even more fucked up. Draenei live for…like…forever. I mean seriously, I think the average draenei lifespan is something like “infinity minus twelve.” So you mix THOSE genes in with our good, wholesome “70 if you’re super lucky” orcish genes, and…well… You’ve got a woman who’s technically, like, 40, only with the body of a 53-year-old, only not really because 53 doesn’t mean anywhere near the same thing to the draenei part of her, so…um… Who the fuck knows?

She’s old, okay? Only she’s kind of not. Only she is. Whatever – you go figure it out. Meanwhile I’m going to go check around the room and make sure there aren’t any whooshing sounds coming from the corners.


The following is written in elegant, but slightly shaky, cursive script on pale peach-colored parchment paper

My dear little Roshy,

How are you doing? I have missed you. It’s beautiful here in Nagrand – we’re having the most glorious late-fall weather. I hope all is well in Orgrimmar.

Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend? Sounds serious too… She has been sending me letters telling me about how deeply in love you both are, and has included many pictures of you with little hearts and flowers drawn on them. She says you’re getting married in the spring? Why didn’t you mention it? You would think you’d keep your own family informed, dear. We’ll have to have a little chat the next time you visit. You are coming home for Winter Veil, are you not?

Also, you should take some pictures of the two of you together. And perhaps find a new photo studio. These look like they were printed on magazine paper instead of proper photo paper. I can’t properly frame them for display, especially not with the lipstick kisses smeared all over them.

All my love,

–Greatmother Geyah.

Hold on, hold on, what… how the… it… GODDAMMIT, SOMEBODY IS FALSIFYING RECORDS OF THEIR WARCHIEF, and…and… Oh fucking hell, now I’m going to have to go out there and explain Photoshop to her. It was bad enough when I had the bright idea to try to show her the internet. Nothing in my e-mail for two months but forwarded pictures of wyverns asking for cheeseburgers. And WHO is this woman who’s…ugh.  You know what? I don’t even think I want to know. Even though I can probably think of a couple likely suspects.

Now I’m just imagining somewhere in Orgrimmar there’s a dim, candle-lit room with walls covered by pictures of me, and…no, no, don’t even go any further with that, Garrosh. That way madless lies.

And now on top of everything, I have to squeeze in a trip to Nagrand before Winter Veil totally runs out on me, or I’m never going to hear the end of it. Ugh. Maybe I’ll bring Gurtash, and see if I can maybe distract her a little with the cute kid factor. Or Ruekie? I bet she’d like Ruekie. Plus Rook might want someplace to hide anyway, what with her probably having Garona out for her head as soon as this post goes live.


Very good to hear you have escaped the Saurok caves unharmed. The Horde would be in a very dire position if we were to lose our leader.

I do have one question. Have you ever thought of asking a mage if they could manage to conjure lemon squares? I have no complaints, but the same old sticky buns are a bit tiring after some time (not to mention they turn stale and hard as a rock after some time sitting in a bag). Perhaps you should collaborate with my wife? I am sure she would be very good to collaborate with, or maybe another mage closer to your location.


–Shen-Wei Pureblossom

Thanks for writing, Shen-Wei. You know, I HAVE thought of this lemon squares angle before, but here’s the thing. First off, there was a point around this time last year that I really thought Gija down in the Cleft of Shadow was on to something, but the problem is, lemon squares don’t really lend themselves to conjuring, apparently. I mean, you can abracadabra up some pastries that are sorta, KINDA in the same ballpark as lemon squares, but you can tell they’re not the real thing. It’s like the drop-off from real leather to that fake shit that the damn DEHTA hippies try to pass off and think they’re fooling anybody. And once you’re used to eating the real thing, I mean, come on. It would be like going from having me as Warchief to, I don’t even know, a fucking TROLL or something.

Second of all, having spent my whole life eating those lemon squares, let me tell you, we don’t need mages recreating Greatmother’s recipe, because IT’S ALREADY MAGICAL. (See? See how I’m already working on smoothing things over with her? For real, I’m so fucking diplomatic you could just shit a brick.)

Also, even setting all that aside… Nothing personal, but I don’t take anybody up on any suggestions that include the phrase “perhaps you should collaborate with my wife” ever since the Incident That Shall Not Be Discussed over at Tharl Stonebleeder’s house. Now stop making me think about things that cannot be unthought. MOVING ON.


Hail Warchief.

Rumors are flying that there is a red pox outbreak. Is this anything like the scourge?

–Kelytas, Blood Elf Paladin, Borean Tundra

Wait, again with the Red Pox? No! We’re not going to talk about the Red Pox. Why the fuck is everybody so curious about the Red Pox all of a sudden?


I really enjoyed that Photo-Op you had with King Varian a while ago. I couldn’t help but notice that King Varian had a wonderful tousled-Anime-pigtail thing going on that was at the same time sexy but tough, and you…well, you just look cranky.

I checked in with the Couturier Barbershop in downtown Orgrimmar and was quite frankly shocked at the dismal array of hairstyles available. An up-swept Mohawk with a scarf? Are you kidding me?

I know you might have a couple of things on your plate right now but seriously, you really need to look into this before the entire Horde start looking like extras from Naxxramas.

Maybe you could contact King Varian, find out who does his hair and we could have a Stylist Exchange with one of our Barbers so they could learn some new hair techniques and bring back the Glory of the Horde.

I also noticed that our Tailors are in desperate need of new patterns. Malevolent-style silk pantaloons? Really? That is so last-season…

–A Concerned Fashionista Blood Elf

Lor’themar, is that you?

Yeah, let me get right on that. I’ll send a special diplomatic courier right over to Stormwind with a note that says, “Who does your hair??” Yeah, that would go over great, I’m sure.

Hmm. Actually, come to think of it, a message like that would probably seem SO weird to Varian that it might fuck with his head a little. Like, I can totally imagine him reading that and thinking, “Garrosh wouldn’t give a shit about my hair…WHAT IS HE UP TO?” And then he gets all paranoid and shit. And meanwhile I’m just sitting back and not doing anything, and the longer this goes on the more paranoid he gets – ESPECIALLY when it’s time for him to go to the barber, because, hey, THIS IS WHAT GARROSH WAS ASKING ABOUT. And maybe he gets so messed up and suspicious that he stops going to the barber altogether, and his hair grows and grows, and finally he’s just got this total mess of a rat’s nest on his head, until maybe he eventually can’t stand it anymore and shaves it all off and ends up bald. Same as me.

There you have it, ACFBE. Problem solved. Garrosh comes out ahead of the curve yet again. Boom.


Hail, Warchief!

I’m studying Orcish History at school and need to write an essay. I thought I’d write about the Red Pox and it’s impact, and I thought it would be neat if I could quote you on the subject, if you don’t mind.

I know it was a terrible illness, but there aren’t any first-hand records that I’ve been able to find. What was it like to live with the Red Pox? Do you remember much from those years? Did you notice any major differences between Orcish society as a whole and the way Orcs lived in Garadar? Pretty much anything you can remember would be great.


–Anonymous Scholar, Orgrimmar

Okay, so at least NOW I have some idea of why everybody’s got the Red Pox on the brain this week. So okay, fine, just this once I’ll talk about it, seeing as I’m probably one of the only Red Pox survivors a lot of these kids will have the chance to meet.

It sucked.

What, you wanted more? FINE.

I’m not going to waste time going over the symptoms, because there must already be records of that, and I’m pretty sure neither one of us wants to spend our lunch break reviewing my childhood vomiting habits. But yeah, I had it as a kid, and even setting aside the physical suffering of it all, I can’t stress enough how much of an effect it had on the culture of Garadar. I mean, you asked if there were any major differences between Garadar society and orcish society as a whole? Fuck, what WASN’T different? The Red Pox hung over our whole culture. It touched everything. We had whole generations who were born and died – prematurely, granted – under the bane of that thing. That was the worst part of it, really – the sense of resignation it left us with. It was like, for a lot of us, there was this sense that the Red Pox came for our grandparents, and then it came for our parents, and now it’s going to come for us.

Over the years, our shaman kept working to find a cure, and every so often there would be a glimmer of hope that maybe they had something. But then there would always be some disaster that would undo it. After a while that became part of the gloom and doom of it – the shaman would come up with a new possibility, and you never quite stopped hoping, but deep down you were thinking, “Okay, let’s see what fucks it up THIS time.” Even when they finally did find a cure, and the suffering could finally end, a lot of us couldn’t even quite believe it was really happening.

Adding to all this, by the way, was the fact that over in Telaar, the draenei had their own parallel illness going on for a while. It was called the lank distemper – or the “Lanks,” as a lot of folks ended up calling it. Basically an infection that caused severe dehydration and loss of appetite, so the afflicted would wither down to these scrawny shadows of their former selves. Sometimes the two diseases would flare up as if they had a contest going to see which one could kill more victims. Which made for some miserable times for everybody involved. Believe me, for anyone who was living through it, you do NOT want to get them started on the whole Lanks / Red Pox rivalry.

Is that enough? Are you happy yet? Or do I need to relive the time the conjured healing sphere rolled between Bullrok’s legs and into the lake, too?


Dear Garrosh;

Winter Veil is here! Time for a great orc cheer! Lok’tar!

I am so looking forward to making cookies and milk for Greatfather Winter this year with my new cooking skills I learned from Pilgrim’s Bounty holiday. I may even add some lemon squares to add some extra favor. I’m really hoping this year he’ll give me a ferocious armored bloodwing with exotic leather saddle for riding. That would be so cool! (Sigh, I’ll probably end up with another copper racer though.)

What are you hoping for Winter Veil this year, Mr. Garrosh sir?

Varian on a spire tree?

Blood and thunder!

–Ruekie, Shaman-Still-in-Training

PS: Greatfather Winter looks awful familiar, but I can’t quite figure it out. Kinda like Mr. Saurfang, but that would be impossible…I think. (Nothing is impossible with Mr. Saurfang.)

PPS: Winter Veil holiday is a great time for eating. Try no to eat too many lemon squares, though, sir. It doesn’t take much to make your muscles look like marshmallows.  D: 


Wait, Ruekie AGAIN? When the hell is she writing all these letters? Fuck, maybe I should hire HER as a scribe, if this is how fast she can crank out pages. Anyway.

So also, before we get into anything else…hang on, you want a BLOODWING for Winter Veil? A frigging BAT? All of a sudden, a WYVERN isn’t good enough for little miss tornado-pants? You’ve seen Mortimer in action, up close and personal, and you’ve decided, “Nah, let’s give the universe a sporting chance – keep the wings, take away all the parts that really make the wyvern badass, and replace them with a giant blind rat”? Are you KIDDING me?

I already answered the part about what I want for Winter Veil a few letters up, so no need to get into that again. And I’m not going to dignify the lemon squares thing with a response. But I have to comment on that thing you said about Greatfather Winter. You know, one thing that people always say about Greatfather Winter is that there’s no way the guy could possibly fly all around the world and deliver presents to everyone in just one night. Well, I think you might have found the one gaping hole in that theory. So, next time you find yourself in an argument with some skeptic who doesn’t want to believe in Greatfather Winter, just unload this one on them:

“I’m telling you, there isn’t enough time for Greatfather Winter to do all that! It isn’t physically possible!”

“What if Greatfather Winter is really Saurfang?”

“Oh… Um… Well then.”


Yo Mon!

I hear you had de red pox, mon. On dat game Earth Online dey has a disees call chicken pox. Es dat de same? (What do chickens haf to do wit dat?)

Dey say in dat game, once you hav it, you cannot get et again. Yah, mon, you are now invisible to dat disees, like de lich king’s horse.  Dat is good news!

Cheers, mon!

–Bobbette, Out der somewhere



I am beginning to get the very distinct impression that I may be getting trolled.


Hey mon!

What’s dis I be hearin’ about da Red Pox breakin’ out again? It be all anybody be talkin’ ’bout dese days! If you get it, does dat mean ya turns red? I remember seein’ some red orcs back in Hellfire Peninsula, mon, was dey havin’ da Red Pox? Dey go from green ta red? Don’t get me wrong, mon, I don’t want nobody gettin’ sick, but if dere be anudda outbreak, look on da bright side – all dat red an’ green togetha be lookin’ nice an’ festive for Winter Veil!

–Bob, Shado-pan Monastery

I hate you. I really, truly hate you.


Excuse me, Warchief, I write to you from Dustwallow marsh, I came here to see if I could find test subjects for a new flamethrower, and found something much more interesting, there is this mysterious woman on the road to the ruined theramore (hah!) and she seems to be able to send me back in time to look at theramore and the swamp before theramore was destroyed, I went to sleep at mudsprocket and woke up in present day. She seems upset that I was killing humans as soon as I was there, and refuses to send me again.

–Ritaba, Mudsprocket 

Wait, wait, hang on. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that there’s someone hanging around Dustwallow Marsh sending people back in time to Theramore before we blew it up? As in, making it possible to totally sidestep our whole victory and interact with the place like it was before? That… fucking hell, THAT DEFEATS THE WHOLE POINT OF US BLOWING IT UP IF YOU CAN FUCKING DO THAT!

You know, this has the Bronze Dragonflight written all over it — or at least it WOULD, if it weren’t for the fact that this is PRECISELY THE SAME KIND OF SHIT they they’ve been recruiting people to PREVENT for years now, and by the way didn’t I just march through like 50 miles of steaming shit over their whole “integrity of the past” deal last year?! But hey, apparently it’s NO BIG DEAL when you’re talking about Theramore, right? SURE! WHY NOT? Hey, how about I zip on back to the past and start fucking with shit too, because I GUESS THAT’S ON THE MENU NOW, RIGHT?

Fucking dragons. FUCKING TIME TRAVEL!



I have been reading the history of Pandaria, and discovered something no one has bothered to take note of, seven burdens of Shaohao, the story of how the last emperor of Pandaria defeated the six sha and locked them away in a poor fashion (He couldn’t have kept them from causing havok any time someone gets cranky?), and there are older writings indicating a beast with seven heads, perhaps there is a seventh sha never recorded, it could be the key to controlling them.

–Yinsun, Vale of Eternal Blossoms

Now see, THIS is an example of some research that might actually be useful. You might be on to something there, Yinsun. It DOES seem kind of fishy that we have this story about Shaohao and his seven burdens, and this seven-headed thingamabob, and then we only have six sha that we know about. It’s definitely worth considering whether we’ve got one more sha on the loose that nobody’s thought of. (Hell, I was even bouncing ideas about this around with some people on Twitter a little while ago.)

For anybody keeping score at home, we might as well start with the basics. Right now, we’ve got six sha accounted for: the Sha of Doubt, the Sha of Anger, the Sha of Despair, the Sha of Violence, the Sha of Hatred, and the Sha of Fear.

So, okay, let’s suppose there’s one more out there. Since the sha we know about all seem to be named for pretty major negative emotions or vices…hmm…let’s see, what do we have left for major negatives?

There could be a Sha of Greed, I suppose. Although…I mean, we have goblins with us, and I have to figure if there were a Sha of Greed, people like Grizzle Gearslip would be setting the fucker off left and right. The Sha of Jealousy, maybe? Makes sense on paper, but again, you’d figure we’d be having outbreaks all over the place, seeing as we’ve got a base full of people who’ve been watching me stroll around day after day. And you KNOW the peeps get jelly when they feast their eyes to the pure awesome that is yours truly, amirite?

So we’re kind of running out of major vices to pair up with the missing sha. What else is there? Free-associate, Garrosh… hmm… the Sha of Gluttony? The Sha of Sloth? The Sha of Anteater?

Hang on…I think that line of thought took a wrong turn on me somehow.

Maybe we’re going about this wrong. Time to think outside the box a little. For all we know, this last sha could be kind of a niche sha, something more specific and less…well…grandiose. Which might explain why this one might have been able to fly under the radar all this time. So, let’s see, what else could be out there as the sneakier, subtler bane of our existence…

  • The Sha of Social Awkwardness
  • The Sha of Small Talk
  • The Sha of Poor Table Manners
  • The Sha of Bad Penmanship
  • The Sha of Bad Spelling
  • The Sha of Typos (possibly related to above)
  • The Sha of Not Picking Up After Your Wyvern
  • The Sha of Repetition
  • The Sha of Redundancy
  • The Sha of Telegraphing Bad Jokes
  • The Sha of Walking Really Slowly in Front of People at the Mall
  • The Sha of Paper Towels with Inexplicably Strong Perforation So You Try to Snap Off One Square and End Up Yanking Out Half the Roll
  • The Sha of Telling the Same Story Over and Over and Over Again Even Though Yes I Already Know How You Met Eitrigg Okay Tirion

Okay, you know what? This is going nowhere fast.

Wait, wait, hang on a second… I could swear I HAVE seen another sha somewhere.


HOLY FUCKING HELL THAT’S IT! THE SHA OF HAPPINESS! Come to think of it, I even remember seeing this fucker on Twitter! Fuckin’ A, I KNEW all those annoyingly happy assholes like Mylune were up to no good! IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW.


Okay, that’s going to do it for this time, but keep those letters coming. You guys really stepped up to the plate with this batch of letters, so you know what that means — THE BAR HAS BEEN RAISED. So keep it going, and I’ll try to be back with more wise words soon. Handy form included: