Tag Archives: ruekie

From Hellscream’s heart, I stab at thee

ship1

So in case any of you were wondering after that last bonus poem the other day, YES, I got sick of Dontrag and Utvoch’s stupid yammering, and YES, I chucked their damn asses overboard, and YES, I’m making them swim the rest of the goddamn way to Pandaria. And before you get your damn bleeding hearts all bloody over them, don’t worry, we’re not just taking off and leaving them — we haven’t been making the best time to begin with, and trust me, the FEAR of getting left behind has kept them swimming at a nice brisk pace.

Now I can already hear your NEXT crybaby objection: “But Garrosh, you’ve been at sea for days, how can they sleep? Alas, wah wah, boo hoo, there’s sand in my hoo-ha.” Well first of all, thank you for taking an interest, Lor’themar, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you on this trip. Second of all, yes, for fuck’s sake, they get to sleep. I’m not a damn monster. The first thing I did after I chucked the idiot brigade overboard… well, hold up, let me be honest. It wasn’t the FIRST thing I did. First I had a good long laugh and took a few hours to savor the sweet, sweet quiet. So, okay, the NEXT thing I did AFTER that was toss a raft and some rope down to Dumber and Dumber Still. So, see? One of them can get on the raft and sleep while the other one pulls him along behind him. Just like a kodo pulling a wagon. Only without the kodo having to pull the wagon through ocean water or do it while wearing heavy plate armor. And also kodos are at least 67% smarter. BUT THE POINT STANDS. They both get to have their goddamn shut-eye. They just have to take turns or draw straws or whatever. So that’s covered.

Meanwhile, since we still have some time to kill before we arrive, that gives me a chance to go over business with the major players we’ve got on hand.

 

Garrosh, Captain Drok, Mokvar, and Malkorok stand near the stern of the ship, looking out over the sea.

GARROSH: So somebody remind me, weren’t we already supposed to be in Pandaria by this point?

MALKOROK: I do recall the last trip going faster, yes sir.

DROK: It can’t be helped, Warchief. We hit a windless patch the second day that slowed us down. Still waters. Not much to be done about it.

GARROSH: Can’t we go faster now to make up for it?

DONTRAG: <shouting from the waters just off the stern> No, sir! Not faster!

GARROSH: I THINK YOU TWO PINHEADS HAVE BETTER USES FOR YOUR BREATH THAN BITCHING AND MOANING!

UTVOCH: <also shouting from overboard> But sir!

DONTRAG: <overboard> Dammit, Ut, zip it before he starts throwing stuff again!

UTVOCH: <overboard> But my arms are getting tired!

GARROSH: HEY, jackasses — my EARS are getting tired!

UTVOCH: <overboard> Sorry sir…

GARROSH: <turning back to Drok> You’re sure you can’t pick up the pace a little?

MOKVAR: I’m a little confused, actually. Why are we taking a boat, rather than using a mage portal?

GARROSH: Oh, geez, THAT whole shit show…

MALKOROK: You had to remind him of this, didn’t you, scribe…

MOKVAR: Huh? What am I missing?

GARROSH: Yeah, so, we COULD use a mage portal, except for the fact that the mages who came back to Orgrimmar with us all managed to forget to train the damn Shrine portal before they left.

MOKVAR: I… oh.

GARROSH: Yeah, And I guess maybe some of Lor’the’whatever’s magisters might have gotten it, but they’re all camped out on that thunder place and Ponytail hasn’t been returning my messages.

While the others are talking, Giska and Korrina appear nearby and approach the side of the ship, carrying fishing poles.

GISKA: You never learned this at all?

KORRINA: No, never got around to training it.

GARROSH: <calling over from nearby> Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around.

KORRINA: Uh, yes, Captain.

GISKA: Of course, sir.

KORRINA: <aside> Do you know what he’s talking about?

GISKA: <aside> No, but that isn’t uncommon. I usually find keeping quiet and nodding attentively goes a long way, though.

KORRINA: Huh. Good tip.

GISKA: It helps a lot.

KORRINA: So how does this work?

GISKA: Well, first you need to bait your hook…

Giska opens a tackle box and takes out a brightly-colored lure.

So you take one of these and attach it…

Giska hands Korrina another lure and attached her own to her hook.

Like this, see?

KORRINA: Like this?

GISKA: Try to get it— right, there, like that.

KORRINA: <looking at her lure quizzically> The fish are actually fooled by these?

GISKA: Apparently.

KORRINA: Isn’t fish supposed to be brain food? Seems weird they’d be that stupid.

Giska shrugs.

GISKA: Okay, so now, when you’re ready to cast, you wind up like this, then…

Giska casts off the side of the ship; Korrina does as well, a little more awkwardly.

KORRINA: Okay… so what do we do now?

GISKA: We wait.

KORRINA: Oh.

Korrina looks around.

For how long?

GISKA: For as long as it takes for a fish to bite.

KORRINA: Huh.

Korrina looks overboard at her bobber.

Well geez, these fish better hurry up…

UTVOCH: <overboard> Oh hey, there’s like a shrimp or something here! I bet it tastes — aaahh! The shrimp is defending itself somehow!

Giska looks around awkwardly as her fishing line goes taut.

GISKA: Um…

KORRINA: Yeah, definitely not brain food.

DONTRAG: <overboard> Dammit, Ut, stop thrashing around so much!

UTVOCH: <overboard> I swear the shrimp had something sharp in it!

GISKA: Um, I’m not sure I’m going to get that lure back…

KORRINA: You can’t just pull it back?

GISKA: Well, not without ripping up… um… that one’s mouth, probably. Whichever one of them he is. I probably shouldn’t risk it.

GARROSH: <shouting over> Roll those dice, if you ask me.

MOKVAR: You know, boss, if you maim everyone who annoys you, eventually you will run out of people to maim…

GARROSH: Yeah, like I’m worried about the bottomless well of anonymous red shirts running out.

GISKA: Huh. Well…

Giska tries tugging back her line, setting off a pained wail from Utvoch out of view.

Right. So. I’ll just… let that one go and get a new lure…

Gurtash and Kulkesh enter, walking close to either side of Ruekie, who appears to be moving unsteadily.

KULKESH: Okay… just a little farther…

GURTASH: Watch this next step, Ruekie.

KORRINA: She’s not doing any better?

GURTASH: It’s even worse now. You know… morning and all.

RUEKIE: <trying to steady herself> Why…? Why would they do it…?

GISKA: What did I miss?

KULKESH: Well, she—

RUEKIE: <flailing> What kind of sadist stocks a galley like that?!

Gurtash and Kulkesh try to steady Ruekie.

GURTASH: Kafa withdrawal…

KULKESH: The galley ran out yesterday.

GISKA: Wait, she’s gone without kafa for less than a day so far, and she’s already—

RUEKIE: Seventeen nightmarish hours! Seventeen!

GURTASH: You do not appreciate how much of that stuff she drinks…

GISKA: And… I mean, wouldn’t eight of those have been spent sleeping anyway?

RUEKIE: They were nowwithout the wakeful buzz of my sweet haste buff! Oh… oh how I miss you, my wired caramelly haze…

KORRINA: See what you miss, being all early-to-bed and early-to-rise, Giska?

KULKESH: I guess the galley just stocked enough kafa to last a couple days—

RUEKIE: <flailing> who does that?! Why?! I— they— We— <whimpers> I feel so slow…

KULKESH: Right… so… We only had enough for a couple days, and now the trip’s ended up taking longer, so…

RUEKIE: They should have poured the kafa on the boat! For the haste buff! To— to get us there faster! Where… where the kafa is! But… but then there would be even less kafa left… and we wouldn’t… but… but we would get there faster… and… uh…

Ruekie flails wildly while Kulkesh and Gurtash try to steady her.

Aaaaaahhhhhh paradoxes! Fel with them!

GISKA: Uh, so… Ruekie… why don’t you just… get some fresh sea air and… and try to relax?

RUEKIE: <closing her eyes and swaying back and forth> Okay… okay… calming and relaxing… calming and… and… <whimpers< I swear if Gul’dan offered me a green cappuccino right now I’d be half tempted…

KORRINA: Uh. Yeah. Okay.

Korrina looks out at the ocean, then to Giska.

So… how long do these fish take?

GISKA: There’s no telling, really.

KORRINA: I mean, it’s been a while now.

GISKA: Not really. Sometimes it can take hours to get a bite.

KORRINA: Hours to…? Why do people make a hobby of this crap?!

GISKA: It’s not so bad. Think of it as a chance to clear your head and center yourself. I do some of my best meditating while I’m fishing.

KORRINA: Oh geez, here you go with that kung-fu panda stuff again…

GISKA: I’m just saying it can be soothing.

KORRINA: For you maybe! It’s already getting on my nerves.

Korrina’s line tugs a few times.

Oh. Oh hey, wait… That’s not one of those guys, is it?

GISKA: <looking overboard> I don’t think so… not sure, though…

UTVOCH: <overboard> Uh, Donty, don’t swim so close?

DONTRAG: <overboard> What are you talking about? I’m all the way over here!

UTVOCH: <overboard> You weren’t just over by me?

DONTRAG: <overboard> Ut, have you not noticed me swimming over here this whole time?

UTVOCH: <overboard> Then what just went by my leg?

DONTRAG: <overboard> I don’t know, a fish or something?

KULKESH: <looking over the side of the ship> Um, guys, do you see something down there?

GISKA: I’m not sure. They’re frothing around a lot. It’s hard to see.

KORRINA: <pulling back on her reel> Dunno, I’m more interested in this. I think I’ve got something!

RUEKIE: What is it?

KORRINA: I don’t know! Whatever it is, it’s putting up a fight!

KULKESH: A tuna, maybe? Those are pretty big.

GURTASH: Tasty, too!

RUEKIE: <grumbling> Kafa’s still better.

GURTASH: Well, yeah, but you can’t live on kafa.

RUEKIE: Don’t you even say that in fun!

GISKA: Whew, if we’re reeling tuna in, I’m glad Master Ji didn’t come along…

KORRINA: Must be a big one — it’s really putting up a fight!

DONTRAG: <overboard> Um… it looks like a fin or something…

UTVOCH: Yeah, well it feels like… it…

Utvoch looks over to one side as a large dorsal fin emerges from the water next to him.

Uh oh…

KULKESH: Hey! Look at that!

RUEKIE: Whoa!

KULKESH: I knew I saw something down there!

GURTASH: What kind of fish is that?

KORRINA: <pulling harder on her reel> A soon-to-be-dead one, if I can help it!

GURTASH: You’ve got that thing?

KORRINA: Dunno, but I’ve got something! And whatever it is is pretty strong for a fish…

Utvoch swims more frantically while looking over at the fin.

UTVOCH: <overboard> Uh, Donty… I think there’s… I think I feel something under me!

DONTRAG: <overboard> Well there kind of has to be, right, unless there’s like a troll wearing a big fake fin!

GURTASH: Uh, Captain, you maybe want to look at this…

GARROSH and DROK: What?

Garrosh and Drok look at each other.

DROK: Wouldn’t that be…?

GARROSH: I’m pretty sure he meant me.

MOKVAR: Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t run into that issue before on this trip…

GURTASH: <pointing overboard> Down there, sir! Look!

KULKESH: Korrina caught something, sir!

KORRINA: I think!

RUEKIE: It’s a big one!

Dontrag and Utvoch shout as the huge dorsal fin descends then rises again, with a giant creature visibly swelling the ocean water from beneath them.

DONTRAG: <overboard> Uhh Warchief!

UTVOCH: <overboard> Sir, I think we have a problem here!

Garrosh goes to the side of the ship and looks over.

GARROSH: What the hell have you idiots done this time?!

DONTRAG: <overboard> We swear, sir, we didn’t do anything!

UTVOCH: <overboard> Honest, Warchief, we—

Another giant fin splashes up out of the water and knocks Utvoch over. After a moment, Utvoch emerges, gasping, nearby.

DROK: Ohh, wait a minute… Could it…?

With another large, loud splash, an immense fish-like creature emerges from beneath the surface of the water, then crashes back down, sending a large splash onto the deck of the boat — dousing Garrosh and Drok in the process.

GARROSH: DAMMIT, you fuckheads, you can’t do ANYTHING without making a big fucking clown show out of it, can you!

DONTRAG: <overboard, scrambling around in the waves> Sorry, Warchief! We didn’t mean to!

UTVOCH: <overboard> We’re sorry having you throw us overboard ended up causing an inconvenience for you, sir!

KORRINA: I think this might have been me, actually, Captain…

Garrosh and Drok start to talk over each other, then look at each other.

GARROSH: Seriously, dude. When one of them says it, they mean me.

DROK: Aye, sorry, Warchief.

GARROSH: And what do you mean YOU did this?

One of the fins crashes up and back down to the water again, sending Dontrag crashing into the side of the boat.

KULKESH: Oh, that one had to hurt…

KORRINA: Well, sir, I think I might have, uh, hooked it…

GISKA: I was showing her how to fish just now, Captain…

GARROSH: Oh. Oh sure. Of course. A member of the Saurfang line goes fishing for the first time, and what happens? She catches a fucking WHALE…

KULKESH: Is it a whale?

KORRINA: As opposed to?

KULKESH: A big fish, I guess.

KORRINA: How do you tell the difference?

GISKA: Well, if it’s a whale, it would have a blowhole and come to the surface to breathe.

RUEKIE: A blowhole?

GURTASH: Oh no. Here we go…

GISKA: Right, you know, whales don’t have gills, so…

GARROSH: How the hell did that thing wind up right on top of us?

MOKVAR: Other than the Saurfang thing.

GARROSH: Yeah, other than that.

DROK: Well, sir…

Another swatting of fins sends Dontrag and Utvoch crashing into each other.

UTVOCH: <overboard> Uh, Warchief…!

DONTRAG: <overboard> This is really becoming not fun down here, sir!

GARROSH: WELL MAYBE YOU GENIUSES SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU WERE JACKASSES SINCE THE DAY YOU WERE BORN, NOW SHOULDN’T YOU?

DONTRAG: <overboard, struggling to pull his head back above water> Yes sir…

UTVOCH: <overboard> Sorry sir…

GISKA: Okay, so look, see, it’s got its back up above the water, so if it’s a whale…

RUEKIE: Oh!

Ruekie leans out over the side of the ship.

GARROSH: Rook, what the hell are you doing?

RUEKIE: Looking for the blowhole, sir!

GURTASH: Wait for it…

RUEKIE: I want to see all that stuff shoot out everywhere!

GURTASH: Aaaaand there it is.

MOKVAR: She does this on purpose, right?

RUEKIE: Does what…? <suddenly looks horrified> Oh gosh!

DROK: Actually, Warchief, I’m a fair bit sure I know what that thing is. Though I can’t say I ever expected I to see it again…

GARROSH: Well don’t just stand there being ominous, Drok. What the hell is it?

KORRINA: Is it a whale? I bet it’s a whale. I caught a whale!

GISKA: I don’t think I saw a blowhole on its back…

RUEKIE: <blushing> Could we not use that word anymore…?

DROK: It’s not a whale, sir. Whales… ah, they’re mostly harmless so long as you give them a wide berth. But this… aye, this is what whales would dream of if they had nightmares.

KORRINA: Oh so I caught something even more badass? Awesome!

GISKA: Well, I mean, you haven’t really caught it…

KORRINA: That’s just jealousy!

GARROSH: Yeah, so, Captain, I’m still hearing too much ominous and not enough answers.

Drok continues looking out at the sea without comment.

Uh, Captain?

Drok looks back to Garrosh.

DROK: Oh. The “Captain” was for me this time?

GARROSH: Dude, try to keep up. I was the one SAYING it. I’m not going to be talking to MYSELF, am I?

DROK: Aye, I reckon not, sir.

GARROSH: Right, so—

More crashing waves — accompanied by more panicked shouts from Dontrag and Utvoch — send the whole ship bucking violently. Everyone tries to steady themselves while deckhands scramble around.

DROK: <shouting toward the bow> Helm! Try bringing us around portside and give us some distance!

DONTRAG: <overboard> Warchief? Um, a rope maybe?

UTVOCH: <overboard> Please, sir?

GARROSH: YOU TWO SHUT UP WHILE I’M WORRYING ABOUT MORE IMPORTANT THINGS THAN YOU, IN OTHER WORDS ANYTHING.

DONTRAG: <overboard> Yes sir…

GARROSH: So do I get an answer here, Drok, or do we have to play fucking charades or some shit?

DROK: It’s not a whale, Warchief. It’s a whale shark. The kind we saw in the deep waters around Vashj’ir, back when I first served under General Nazgrim. Legionnaire then, sir. They don’t often venture this far south… or far north… but this one… Ah, yes, this one, sir. This one’s an exception.

GARROSH: Wait, you know this one specifically?

DROK: Aye, sir. I’ve seen him before. Never expected I might again. At least I would have hoped…

MOKVAR: How can you tell it’s not just some other whale shark?

MALKOROK: <calling below> Gunners! Get up here and man the cannons!

DROK: Look… on his next pass… aye, there!

The whale shark emerges again, setting off waves that send the ship tilting to one side; in the process, it also lifts Dontrag and Utvoch on its back, where they flail around frantically.

There, see, Warchief, the great white hump on the beast’s back…

GARROSH: Dammit, you idiots, get out of the way — you’re blocking the view!

DONTRAG: <sliding around on the whale shark’s back awkwardly> But— but sir…!

GARROSH: BUT NOTHING! Don’t make me tell the gunners to aim at you FIRST!

UTVOCH: <spilling off the side of the whale shark> Yes si— oof!

DROK: And there, Warchief… see the wrinkled white forehead… and along the one side, that long scar, left by ill-fated attempts in days long past to bring the monster down…

UTVOCH: <invisible amid the crashing waves> I really don’t like the sound of this, sir!

GARROSH: Neither do I, if by “this” you mean “your endless bitching”!

While the whole shark sinks and rises again amid the waves, Utvoch manages to climb onto its back and grab onto the dorsal fin.

UTVOCH: Donty! Up here! If we hold on to the fin maybe it won’t be able to bite us!

GISKA: So Captain…

Garrosh looks at her.

Um, Captain Drok, I mean.

Garrosh shrugs.

How do you know about this shark?

DROK: Ah, young’un, this beast has a name for himself, ’mid those of us sail the oceans. Mobius-Dick, the great white whale shark. Told in whispers, mostly, a ghost story for the seas, but for me, and a handful of others, well, we knew all too well he’s real.

The whale shark breaches and crashes back down on the water, rocking the ship again, then dives below the surface. Korrina’s fishing pole gets yanked out of her hands.

KORRINA: Wha— Oh dammit!

DROK: I’ve seen the beast once before, Warchief. You remember, Warchief, back before General Nazgrim found Pandaria in the southern seas, you remember I’d gone on an expedition for him to the northern ones.

GARROSH: Right, I remember. The force we sent to Northrend.

DROK: To pick up a certain arcane trinket. And deliver it to your blood elf friend a ways east.

MALKOROK: Hmph. Bite your tongue, Drok, calling that pompous elf a friend.

DROK: Ah, but he was good at his job in any case, though, wasn’t he.

GARROSH: Did a good job on the mana bomb, true enough.

DROK: Yes, sir — I like to think we had a hand in it as well. Sure, by the time Thalen was working his magic — heh! — we were setting said back home through the northern seas, but I like to think us delivering… well, Warchief, you know… I like to think, in a way, that we delivered the mana bomb.

GARROSH: So, what, on the way back is when you saw this thing or something?

DROK: Aye. On the way home.

Drok goes quiet moment while the crashing of waves around them goes more still.

Mobius-Dick slammed unannounced into our side, Warchief, barely a day out of our rendezvous delivering the mana bomb. 110 orcs went into the water. Ship went down in minutes. And of course, Warchief, our mission had been so secret, no rescue was bound to be coming, not right away. First light, Warchief, Mobius-Dick come cruising back again. So we formed ourselves in tight groups. <chuckles grimly> You know, like maneuvers from basic training, closing the ranks… <waving toward the trainees without looking at them> You young ones learning all that, I wager… And the idea was, whale shark comes near a the group and they’d start pounding and hollering… and sometimes the whale shark would go away. Sometimes he wouldn’t go away… So, 110 orcs went in the water, 31 come out, Mobius-Dick took the rest, twelve days before Theramore. Anyway… we delivered the mana bomb.

MOKVAR: Spirits.

KULKESH: <aside> Remind me never to sign up for naval duty.

GISKA: <aside> Yeah. <beat> Also, don’t phrase it that way too loud around Ruekie.

KULKESH: <aside> Could be entertaining, though.

GISKA: <aside> True.

GARROSH: How did I not hear about any of this?

MALKOROK: We had reports of an incident at sea and recovery, Warchief, but I don’t remember being given the details.

GARROSH: Because I REMEMBER you commanding one of the ships in at Theramore, Drok.

DROK: That I did, Warchief.

GARROSH: In fact, I’m pretty sure you delivered the small strike force we sent in to extract Thalen.

DROK: I suppose I’m a veritable delivery man, sir.

MOKVAR: So you mean you came home from… from that, and turned right around to take another mission?

DROK: I’m a soldier of the Horde, sir, and Nazgrim trained me well. I’m a soldier and I had my duty, and so long as I still have legs, I’ll perform it.

GARROSH: Well, whatever it is, if it—

With a loud crash of waves, Mobius-Dick — with Dontrag and Utvoch still hanging desperately onto its dorsal fin — emerges close to the ship, causing a surge of waves that sends the ship tilting sharply to one side. Deckhands scramble around while Drok barks orders.

DONTRAG: <sputtering for breath> Guh— we— Ut? You still there?

UTVOCH: <sputtering as well> Yeah— I— blurg— I can’t see you, though, I think I got like some salt water in my eyes somehow…

MALKOROK: Get those cannons armed while we have a clear line on it!

DONTRAG: Warchief?

DROK: Aye, sir!

UTVOCH: Sir?

GARROSH: OPEN FIRE!

The cannoneers open fire at Mobius-Dick; the whale shark thrashes violently and splashes water heavily over the deck, dousing everyone nearby.

KORRINA: Guh!

MOKVAR: Dammit, I just dried this suit…

RUEKIE: Ack! That big Dick got me all wet!

KULKESH: Uh…

KORRINA: Uh… Ruek…

GISKA: It’s… it’s not even worth getting into.

MOKVAR: Are we sure she’s not doing it on purpose?

Another round of cannon fire pelts one side of the whale shark — with Dontrag and Utvoch visible still clinging to the dorsal fin.

DONTRAG: <sputtering> You know, Ut, I’m starting to think maybe this fin idea might not have been the best plan…

UTVOCH: <gasping for breath> Well geez, would you rather get swallowed?

DONTRAG: It might be better than getting pulled under till we drown!

UTVOCH: But then we’d get… like…. slowly digested for a thousand years or something!

DROK: Helm, keep us alongside! Don’t let him close on us!

MALKOROK: Kor’kron! Maintain fire!

DONTRAG: Wait! Sir!

UTVOCH: Warchief, please!

Dontrag and Utvoch clamber in tighter against the dorsal fin, partially trying to use it for cover amid the increasing hail of cannonballs.

GARROSH: I’M HEARING WAY TOO MUCH NOISE FROM THE FUCKING EXPENDABLES. <bellowing below deck> Get some shaman up here to try to steady the waters! And while we’re at it, hey, how about some of those beastmasters we brought get their damn asses up here, what with we got a goddamn beast that could use some mastering! Unless they’re all working at the frigging Steve level!

UTVOCH: Poor Steve!

DONTRAG: Spirits rest his soul — I can’t believe he’s gone!

UTVOCH: Yeah, I know — he owed me like fifteen gold…

DONTRAG: Dammit, Ut, the poor guy’s dead! Eaten even!

UTVOCH: <hanging on to the whale shark desperately as it thrashes> Yeah, well, better him than us!

DONTRAG: Ut, there were never any devilsaur gonna eat us!

UTVOCH: Spirits’ sake, Donty, look where we are right now!

GARROSH: OKAY, THAT’S IT, I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THE PRATTLING IDIOT SOUNDTRACK ON CONSTANT LOOP WHILE WE HAVE LITERAL BIGGER FISH TO FRY!

Garrosh grabs a harpoon from a weapons rack and runs back to the edge of the deck.

DONTRAG: Warchief! We’re sorry, sir!

UTVOCH: We really mean it this time, sir! Cross our hearts and hope to —

DONTRAG: Dammit, Ut!

GARROSH: SHUT! THE FUCK! UP!

Garrosh hurls the harpoon toward Mobius-Dick — hitting it square in the middle of its wrinkled forehead. The whale shark thrashes violently, shaking Dontrag and Utvoch off its back; the duo fly toward the ship. The whale shark’s thrashing causes a wave that douses the deck again, just as D&U crash into Garrosh.

DONTRAG: <sprawled, with Utvoch, awkwardly on the deck> I… I don’t think I like seafood anymore…

UTVOCH: My hands are all pruney…

GARROSH: <drumming his fingers on the deck> You know, I’ll bet you anything this kind of shit didn’t used to happen to Thrall…

 

So… yeah. That was a thing. More fun than you’re ever going to have without lighting your own head on fire. On the plus side, turns out that whale shark steaks are pretty tasty. Although overall I don’t know if I can recommend them, what with the accompanying side order of moron jackassery. Or do they count that as a garnish? Tough call.

Either way, we should be reaching Pandaria soon. Cross your fingers for no more outbreaks of stupidity.

 

 

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.

 

#500 GIANT-SIZED (not really) ANNIVERSARY (kind of) SPECIAL

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Okay, people, I know we’ve got a hell of a lot going on these days on a whole bunch of fronts, but let’s get our damn priorities straight and take a moment to APPRECIATE THE GODDAMN AWESOMENESS OF ME.

Why, you ask? AS IF YOU NEED A REASON. But okay, fine, be that way. Even though you should already be in a constant state of awe over your Warchief, today marks an EXTRA SPECIAL awesome, awe-inspiring, awful… wait. I think I just took a wrong turn there.

IT’S A SPECIAL GODDAMN OCCASION IS WHAT I’M SAYING.

Reason being, the post you see before you marks the 500th BLOG POST here on the Warchief’s Command Board. That’s right, bitches, 500 posts — that’s FIVE ZERO ZERO. Go ahead and count ’em. I KNOW YOU WON’T.

But that’s where we are, people — 500 installments of EVERYBODY’S FAVORITE BLOG EVER. And riddle me this: have you read them all?

Yeah, me neither.

I mean, there were a bunch in there by guest posters like Spazzle and Mokvar, and I like those guys and everything, but not enough to actually give a shit about what they have to say about… like… anything. But whatever — like trees falling in the forest with no one there to hear them, those guests posts still… um… make a… sound when they…crash the server and… um… that is…

OKAY, THAT ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME A LITTLE, TOO. I MAY OR MAY NOT BE WORKING ON A COUPLE DRINKS, OKAY, SO STFU.

Anyhow. I’d like to thank all my loyal readers, and say that I couldn’t have done it without you. I’d LIKE to say that, but I can’t, because I totally could have. Let’s be real, scrubs, I’m the awesome one here, not you. THERE’S A REASON WHY YOU’RE READING MY BLOG AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND, NOW ISN’T THERE?

But still, the occasion calls for something special, so in keeping with this month’s theme — I DO have a Poetry Challenge in progress, after all — I figured I’d take a look back at a 500-stack of EPIC the only proper way EPIC gets done:

 

That “LOK’TAR OGAR!” that I blogged for a starter;
I met D&U, but my wyvern’s way smarter;
Krom’gar dropped a bomb, but I dropped his ass harder;
         EO gaming, “why fly” malaprop.
Twilights on a mission for that Cho’gall demon;
Ogres versus Grimtotem, and Magatha schemin’;
Johnny Awesome, beat it; Garona, keep dreamin’;
         Saurfang took a turn watching the shop.

That time I went AWOL, then I was recovered;
Grabby Mylune hugged me till I damn near smothered;
Garadar reunion with my long-lost mother;
         Year one challenge, rhymes of locks in socks.
Mom was just a cruel trick Magatha unraveled;
Trouble for Forsaken; Tirion’s endless babble;
Head to old Southshore thanks to FUCKING TIME TRAVEL;
         Human Faranell’s a paradox.

Psycho!Mylune rampaged, eyes more wild than dewy;
Edwin fucked the past up; all the timelines went screwy;
We straightened them out; Theramore went kablooey;
         Went to Karazhan to spin some tunes.
Pandas showed up teaching how anger is managed;
Got myself some trainees: DPS advantage;
Someone ganked Mokvar; he ankhed and wound up bandaged;
         Rolled up on Pandaria with my goons.

Gurtash started drawing; Vol’jin stopped his breathing;
Cloudfall spoke of destiny and got me near believing;
Mokvar met Magatha, that one had me seething;
         He went off the grid — he’d best run far.
Lor’the’whatsit’s bitching still; I got pounced by Tak;
Snagged the Divine Bell; that’s when Jaina blew her stack;
DPS got lost, but I (mostly) got them back;
         Meet my daughter, Shay. (Have a cigar.)

Shay’s mage class was hard, her sucker punch was hardest;
Mokvar reappeared with green fire from the Black Harvest;
Gurtash got blindsided, we were down an artist;
        Made an offer Blackfuse can’t refuse.
Green-eyed wolf named Golmash acting pretty fishy;
Gurtash still needs training not to be so squishy;
Utvoch got promoted, but I kinda wish he
         And Dontrag weren’t always so confused.

EPIC VERSE and lemon squares, endless reader mail;
Ruekie getting ruekied; eternal minion fail;
Mortimer’s a badass; Shayari’s hunting sales;
         Earth Online guild chat is always strange.
FYV; #LadiesLoveMe, ’cause they’re not slumming;
Trolls are always trolling, dumbasses are dumbing;
500 down so far, a thousand more coming!
         Okay, maybe. Times could always change.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

Keep checking in, people. The EPIC DROPS are only just warming up.

LOK’TAR!

 

Monday mailbag

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Another Monday, another batch of letters. Let’s see what my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS have to say to their favorite Warchief…

 

Greetings, Garrosh!

I feel like it’s been quite some time since last we corresponded. As it happens, I have been travelling, and taking a quill to parchment didn’t really make the cut of amazing new things to do. Which I happen to have recorded on a piece of parchment that I believe I wrote up two weeks ago. Anywho. By the way, did Rue’kara get her writing supplies back?

Anyway, my travels took me and Anaria to Ashenvale, where I made a very brief stop at the Silverwind Outpost to gather some rations and fresh arrows. Don’t worry, Ana stayed outside. I think she was freaked out by all the Night Elf corpses. Which, by the way, I totally respect you fighting a war and all, but couldn’t you at least clean them up?

Anyway…what I really wanted to bring up with you was the fact that I may or may not have bumped into your orcish associates, Seargent Dontrag and Scout Utvoch. Photographic evidence below;

d-and-u-and-sarlin

My question may be perceived as rhetorical, but I am genuinely intrigued; where did they learn math? And also, when did math start becoming relevant in the days of the week? I think there was something about Brewfest math too but I’d zoned out at that point.

I really am sorry.

I hope your luck is treating you well.

–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade

Well I’ll be damned, Sarlin, you were able to get in under the 250-word limit without even breaking a sweat. Will wonders ever cease.

So… yeah. You met those two. And… just to recap, for anyone who wasn’t paying attention, let me direct your attention to Sarlin in this picture…

d-and-u-and-sarlin

…and yeah, that’s pretty much the look I have on MY face when the Wonder Twins turn up, too.

By the way, it’s not Scout Utvoch anymore, just FYI. He’s Grunt Utvoch now, as of a couple days ago when he got a promotion. Was he still wearing his Scout insignia? Minor point, I know, but stay tuned, we’ll come back to it.

Good news is, Sarlin, I’ve got an easy answer for your question. Where did D&U learn math? They didn’t. Pro tip: any time a question begins “Where did D&U learn,” the answer is they didn’t. Every single time.

To be honest with you, though, I’m less concerned about D&U’s grasp of math (hang on — I think reality just shuddered a little at me stringing THOSE words together consecutively) than I am about their grasp of GEOGRAPHY. You say you ran into them at SILVERWIND REFUGE? Just… hanging out like they were ON DUTY or something?

Dude… they USED to be stationed out there, then I fucking reassigned them to Stonetalon… like TWO YEARS AGO. They served there under Krom’gar (and the less said about THAT motherfucker the better), then STAYED up that way when I put the region under Overlord Cliffwalker’s jurisdiction. And okay, then Cliffwalker pulled a fast one on me and shipped their asses down to Pandaria to get them out of his hair and back into mine. And for this past little while now, while I’ve been back in Orgrimmar, they’ve been in town here too, temporarily, pending the return trip south.

And the reason I’m even going into this much detail about it is so you can really appreciate the chain of travels, relocations, and reassignments that D&U have had SINCE the last time they were supposed to be in Silverwind Refuge.

And yet, there they were.

You know what? Fuck it. Good place for ’em. Let Captain Tarkan worry about what to do with ’em. Maybe they can go farm some Molten Front dailies, too, while they’re keeping busy in Three-Major-Villains-Ago Land. Maybe that’s just how slow their brains are, that they’re still getting caught up from like two years ago, and so every so often they have a collective brain fart and think they’re still supposed to be at the base where they USED to be stationed and HEY EUREKA maybe THAT’S why Utvoch was still going by “Scout,” because the goddamn hamster wheel in his brain is still spin spin spinning around trying to get caught up to TODAY, and sometimes the hamster falls over in the wheel and gets whipped around a few hundred times and in its dizzy confusion it has to take a wild guess at what year it is and sometimes it guesses wrong. So HEY, UTVOCH, in case you’re reading this, check it out, THE LICH KING IS DEAD NOW, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT SHIT?

 

Dear Mr. Warchief,

Isn’t Rhonin dead? I live in Dalaran and I hear him say something, like, every five minutes or something? Something about raising our eyes to the skies and observing? Why am I still hearing this? Is Rhonin’s ghost haunting us forever with his endless speech?

–Clarise Sunbow

Okay, so, I think I’m kind of in a unique position to say, definitely, that yes, Rhonin is dead. No two ways about it, dude got himself deaded up right good. Still, Clarise, that IS one hell of a weird thing to be stuck listening to over and over all day (not to mention annoying as fuck), so I went ahead and did a little research for you. NO NEED TO THANK ME. Seeing as you’ve apparently got a dead guy turning up and doing the same shit over and over, I went ahead and consulted with my own resident dead guy with a history of doing the same shit over and over, Doc Faranell over in the Undercity. Well, that is, I TRIED consulting with him on this. He mostly just kind of stared at me forlornly. Not especially helpful, really. Come to think of it, maybe Faranell wouldn’t know as much about this as I was thinking. I mean, yeah, two dead guys, but “walking around playing poker on Fridays”-dead is a lot different from “blown up by a mana bomb”-dead.

Luckily, though, I WAS eventually able to drag a possible answer out of Faranell, but he did it drawing more from the part where he’s a mage than from the part where he’s a reanimated dead guy with a history of being trapped in infinitely repeating time loops. Which, of the two, is really kind of the more mundane part of Faranell’s deal, and come to think of it, what kind of crazy bizarro world are we stuck in where being a fucking WIZARD is the BORING thing about someone? But anyhow, Faranell blathered some stuff about what’s probably going on, a lot of which I don’t really remember too well because it involved a load of technical magic talk and also because I wasn’t paying attention too closely because, let’s be honest, I don’t really care that much. BUT I SAID I WAS GOING TO GET YOU AN ANSWER, DAMMIT.

We soldier on.

So the gist of it is that after Rhonin got his ass arcane-kablooeyed all across the swamp, something about his personal magic power got amped up by the mana bomb magic power and the Focusing Iris magic power and did a thing with the whole Dalaran magic-ground-zero power, and something about a place that was personally important to him, and some other shit Faranell said that who the fuck can follow and who even cares really, and the end result is there’s some kind of arcane echo of Rhonin that’s been projected into Dalaran that keeps replaying a moment of his life over and over again. Which kind of makes me glad the dude never swung by this neck of the woods for a visit, because I’ve got enough pains in the ass to deal with without having to listen to “CITIZENS OF ORGRIMMAR! LOOK TO THE SKY!” every five minutes.

 

Hail, Warchief,

Tomorrow I am going to the Valley of Trials to face my om’riggor. At my father’s insistence, I write to you to confirm I will be joining that trainee program of yours, though I fail to see what I’ll get out of it. For the record, my father told me I should become a hunter, but I am no hunter’s son. Perhaps the Thunderlord of old thought that was good enough for them, but my father keeps wolves and my mother was a warrior, so I will keep wolves and fight for Orgrimmar. I was surprised when he told me, though; all I was ever told about my ancestral clan was that they kept the last wolf pen on Draenor around the time of the reign of Ner’zhul.

If you and my father are truly so frightened I will get myself killed, let me make this vow: when I am seasoned enough to command my own warriors, I will find my mothers killers and make them pay. Until then, I will bide my time, study the Alliance’s tactics and strike when they least expect it. I would kill those beasts now if I could, but they will only grow older and grayer, while I will grow stronger and tougher, as the years pass, after all. It will make my task easier, I’m sure.

–Corkrok Wolfrunner

P.S. By the way, your shaman friend hasn’t helped matters any – that wretched green-eyed wolf is still at it, and my father still doesn’t know what’s causing his condition.

Oh Corkrok…

tiguleforor1

…all these flavors, and you just had to choose to be salty, didn’t you?

You know, I get the sense that you’ve got some weird read on me that’s making you think I’m AGAINST you going after the humans who killed your mother. Let’s clear this up — I get it, okay? The Alliance killed your mother — reason #87,403 to rid the world of them –and you want them dead. GOOD. Awesome. I’m all for it. I am 100% UTTERLY PRO DEAD HUMANS. Are we clear on this?

The only thing your father and I want to make sure of is that you’re fully prepared when the time comes for you to square off against them in battle. So guess what — that means WE ALL WANT THE SAME DAMN THING. So, to that end, I’m assigning you to Overlord Runthak’s trainee group. He’s one of our best warriors and no stranger to the Alliance tactics (pfft) that you seem so keen to study up on. You stick with him, and soon enough you’ll get your chance to have at the humans.

As for the “green-eyed wolf” — Golmash, if I remember right — I know it’s still a work in progress. I’ve been getting reports from Mokvar, who’s the “shaman friend” you mentioned… well, other than the fact that he’s really NOT a shaman, he just used to be, but then I guess I can’t really blame you for getting that mixed up because honestly, dude changes classes more often than ogres change underwear (i.e., more than once per lifetime). And, well, if we’re being totally real here, even the “friend” part is at least debatable. But still. Yeah. He’s been keeping me up to date on his research. We’ve got a couple possible leads, but it might not be a situation with a quick fix. More updates to follow on that one. Probably best to let your father and me and my, um, shaman warlock friend friend (?) oh fuck it whatever friend worry about this one for the time being. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, good luck with the om’riggor, and glad to see you finally coming to your senses about training. Well, sort of, at least. See above re: salty. But, you know, whatever gets the job done, right?

 

Dear Warchief,

What strength or other quality do you wish you/the Horde could assimilate or appropriate from the Alliance or other factions/enemies.

Undying loyalty,

–Sintra E’Drien

I mean, if we’re talking about one side APPROPRIATING things from the other, you maybe want to go talk to the ALLIANCE about where they got that awesome idea to set up a Brawler’s Guild. Just sayin’. I mean, not for nothing, but nothing pisses me off more than people ripping off my ideas (with the possible exceptions of Magatha and Johnny Awesome and gnomes and humans and murlocs and people who sit there on their big-ass mounts blocking the mailbox because FUCK those people). Seriously, what’s next? How many more of my ideas are going to get ripped off by assholes? Is somebody going to steal the genius idea to travel back to the past that I had forever ago? Or WAS it forever ago? WHO’S TO SAY, because FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.

As for qualities I’D like to copy from the Alliance… um… hmm. Kind of drawing a blank here, to tell you the truth. The night elves and draenei both have massive lifespans, so I guess that would be pretty cool. Although the blood elves live a damned long time, too, because elves, and I suppose the Forsaken are pretty much immortal as long as nobody KILLS them kills them, because, you know, they already died once and who wants to do that shit again? But that means we’ve already got the super-duper lifespans covered in-house… So… nope. I got nothin’.

So… hmm… maybe I can take a look at some of the other factions out there and see if they have anything going for them…

Timbermaw Hold — I don’t have some quality that I’d want to gain from them, exactly, but I DO find it kinda cool how, due to some tribal technicality, they recognize the Warchief of the Horde — whoever that happens to be — as an Archbishop. True story. I have the funny hat to prove it.

The Keepers of Time — Don’t even get me started. Also, not for nothing, but why do we actually have the Keepers of Time, AND the Scale of the Sands, AND the Brood of Nozdormu? Aren’t they all pretty much the same thing? Or is this some kind of freaky time travel thing where they literally ARE the same thing but from overlapping timelines and they need to use different names to make sure they don’t cross the streams because timey whimey and OMG FUCKING TIME TRAVEL. HEAD HURTS.

The Argent Crusade — I would love to have their apparent ability to be around Tirion all day and somehow not feel an overpowering urge to KILL EVERYTHING EVER.

The Sons of Hodir — Okay, you know what? This isn’t a trait that the whole faction has, and for that matter, it’s not even something I would want to pass on to the entire Horde. It’s purely something about that Thorim dude that I’d like to grab up for myself. The guy does an absolutely KILLER Baine Bloodhoof voice. Annoys the living FUCK out of Baine. Always has. Just being REMINDED of Thorim gets Baine all grumbly. Next time you’re in Thunder Bluff, in fact, roll up on Baine and just go “IN THE MOUNTAINS!” in the best Thorim voice you can manage. Even if it’s not that good. Maybe even ESPECIALLY if it’s not that good. Just try it. Anyway, I bet it would be a fucking BLAST if I could do the voice like ol’ MC Hammer does.

Tushui Pandaren — Okay, so here we go. I knew if I mulled it over for long enough, I’d be able to come up with SOMEBODY from within the Alliance that had something going for them. So, here you go, Sintra, here’s something from an Alliance sub-faction that I’d like to emulate myself — a picture’s worth a thousand words:

fyv1

Nuff said, motherfucker. Nuff said.

 

Dearest warchief,

I understand that some of my past conduct may have accidentally agitated you, but I am writing to assure you of my resolve to make amends and offer my ongoing service!

As one of your followers informed you in your last mailbag (See? I am even a regular blog reader and fan. Not disuaded by all the bounty hunters you have sent after me!), I recently risked great bodily harm to make up for past mistakes and eliminate Magatha Grimtotem on your behalf!

Unfortunately she managed to get away. I know I must have hurt her a lot though! Those Face Melters pack a wallop, and I can only imagine they must do even more damage to the target than the user. Otherwise I may have made a very poor investment.

But as you can see, my loyalty has not wavered! Even after all the time I have needed to spend in hiding. And so I write to you now in hopes that my efforts with the Grimtotem crone will return me to your good graces.

The blade of Johnny Awesome awaits your bidding warchief!

Lock-tar ogre,

–Johnny Awesome, Felwood

So, a few points here.

First, for anyone who doesn’t remember… ugh, now I actually have to relive this shit again… I ran into this Johnny Awesome guy a couple years ago while Garona and I were working a case, and he was all looking for missions to make himself useful, and so, you know, I went into questgiver mode and sent him off to Thousand Needles to find some busywork for himself or maybe hopefully get himself killed. IF ONLY. And so OF COURSE it would JUST SO HAPPEN that the Twilight nutjob cult was holding Magatha PRISONER in Thousand Needles, and she duped ol’ Johnny Asshole into HELPING her, and then she went prancing off on her merry way and don’t even get me STARTED on the whole shitstorm she stirred up from THERE.

So, second, yeah, this is THAT Johnny Awesome.

Which leads us to THIRD AND FOURTH, holy fucking shit do I fucking HATE that guy, YES I DO.

Oh, and, FIFTH, he didn’t exactly help his cause by somehow managing to fuck up “Lok’tar ogar” while writing to THE GODDAMN WARCHIEF looking for forgiveness.

But, on the topic of your request there, Johnny, let me put it this way:

SIXTH — Look at that, people, HE JUST TOLD YOU HE’S IN FELWOOD. THE BOUNTY’S NOW UP TO TWO MILLION GOLD — GET OUT THERE, GET HUNTING, AND BRING ME THE HEAD OF JOHNNY MOTHERFUCKING AWESOME!

 

That’s all for this time. Keep sending those letters. But not before you head up to Felwood and lay some decapitating on ol’ Sparkle-Pony-Boy.

More soon.

 

[The Warchief’s next mailbag will be Monday, May 2. Send your questions, comments, or other missives to Garrosh via or email through the link in the upper right sidebar, or, as always, using the handy-dandy form below:]

 

Horde Iron Chef (part 2)

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[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.

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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

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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.

 

Horde Iron Chef (part 1)

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So today was kind of a festive day in Orgrimmar. Ever since the pandas came to town, Ji’s been pestering me off and on to let him introduce some of his traditional panda customs. Which struck me as kind of funny, seeing as pretty much any tavern or eatery owner who’s found their stock of food suddenly, totally depleted within like twenty minutes of ol’ Stuffed-With-Fluff waddling in the door has already gotten pretty damn familiar with the only real panda custom I know about. Still, though, Ji keep insisting there were some traditional events in panda custom that he thought would carry over pretty well. I was still kind of on the fence, but then I guess Lunchbox got in Spazzle’s ear about it (not hard to do, really, because LOOK AT THOSE EARS, right?) (HAHA I crack myself up sometimes), and then Spazzle got Boss Mida from the Bilgewater goblins into the loop on it, and then the word “sponsorships” came up, and did I MENTION teenage daughters are fucking expensive?

By the way, if you haven’t gotten your insurance straightened out, you totally should look into it.

Stop looking at me like that, dammit. An orc’s gotta put food on the table. And… apparently… dozens of outfits in the closet. Ugh.

But yeah, NOW we were in business. Like literally.

So the particular tradition in question in this case was this thing called the Pandaren Noodle Festival. Now, anybody who’s been over to Pandaria is probably pretty aware that those pandas love them some noodles. Look over any panda menu and you’re going to find noodles all over the place. And so apparently, in a lot of their villages, once a year they have a big festival where everyone in town whips up their best noodle dishes, usually family recipes or whatever, and everybody samples everybody else’s and sort of spends the day hanging out with music and booze and whatever else. And then everybody puts on like eleven pounds but who the hell even notices because pandas.

Anyhow, though, it sounded like a fun enough time, and with all the crap that’s gone on lately, people could probably use a morale boost, so I let Ji and some of his buddies go ahead and plan a big ol’ outdoor festival down in the Valley of Honor. We cleared out some space and let them set up some tables and kiosks, and I hear tell Deep-Dish has managed to get folks from all over the place to sign on to come contribute some grub. I even got Zaela to send up a few kegs of special dwarven brew that her people collected from some Wildhammer dwarves who apparently stumbled across some sort of mishap where they were caught outside during a storm and were mysteriously chopped up with axes. So, you know, a little more variety for the booze.

It’s been going on for most of the day today, and I have to say it seems like a pretty good time so far. We’ve got people dropping by Orgrimmar from all over to join the party. I’m even going to try to swing by myself once I get one last thing finished up here…

 

Liadrin, with a young blood elf girl in tow, approaches Mokvar, who’s munching on a bowl of noodles at one of the kiosks.

LIADRIN: Hello, Mokvar. It’s been too long.

MOKVAR: Liadrin! It’s good to see you again.

LIADRIN: I’m glad you’re finally back home. Things are smoothed over with Garrosh?

MOKVAR: They’re…a work in progress. But I’m managing. You’re in town for the festival, I’m guessing?

LIADRIN: After a fashion. I’ve actually been visiting Orgrimmar fairly regularly to help with Shayari since she arrived. When my duties in Silvermoon allow, of course.

MOKVAR: Right, so… I mean… is she really… you know… Garrosh’s daughter?

LIADRIN: That’s what all of Dr. Faranell’s tests indicate. If she’s a fraud, she’s a spectacularly effective one.

MOKVAR: How is Edwin, anyway?

LIADRIN: He’s well, so far as one can tell with him. I believe he’s around here some– Ah! Here she comes.

Shayari enters.

Shayari! A pleasure to see you.

SHAYARI: Hey, Liadrin. Beardy.

MOKVAR: Mokvar.

SHAYARI: Whatever.

hordeironchef1

LIADRIN: Shay, I’d like to introduce you to someone. Both of you, actually. This is my daughter, Salandria.

MOKVAR: I didn’t know you had children, Liadrin.

LIADRIN: I adopted Salandria some years ago, in the late stages of the Outland campaign. Initially to begin her training as a paladin, though she’s…currently exploring other career options.

SALANDRIA: In other words, she’s letting me take a year off to work on my music.

LIADRIN: <sighs> We all need some time “find” ourselves, I suppose… I’ve changed classes twice myself over the years, so I’m hardly one to criticize.

MOKVAR: Yeah, right there with you.

LIADRIN: At any rate. Being as Salandria is a bit younger than the other paladin trainees, I thought it might be nice for her to have the chance to make some friends from within her peer group, or close to it. Salandria, this is Mokvar, and Shayari.

SHAYARI: <waving> Hey.

SALANDRIA: Hi.

SHAYARI: Oh, hey, cool guitar!

SALANDRIA: Thanks.

MOKVAR: Do you lug that thing around everywhere? It looks pretty heavy.

SALANDRIA: A little, but you never know when inspiration is going to strike!

LIADRIN: As our neighbors in Silvermoon have become painfully aware…

SALANDRIA: Yeah, yeah, I bet they wouldn’t complain if I was playing… like… I don’t know… the harp or something. I bet that placeholder regent guy plays one of those.

LIADRIN: You mean Regent-Lord Theron.

SHALANDRIA: Yeah, that guy.

SHAYARI: You’ll get along well with Pops if you keep taking shots at Whosy-Whatsy like that.

MOKVAR: Is Garrosh around here?

LIADRIN: I haven’t seen him so far.

SHAYARI: I think he said something about coming by.

MOKVAR: Well, if nothing else, he’s not really one to miss a party, so…

SALANDRIA: Oh, hey, sounds like I really would hit it off with ol’ Garry.

LIADRIN and MOKVAR: No.

SHAYARI: Really, seriously, don’t.

SALANDRIA: Huh?

Gurtash and Ruekie enter, holding noodle bowls, and approach the group.

MOKVAR: Do not call him that.

SHAYARI: For real.

GURTASH: Don’t call who what?

SHAYARI: Pops, “Garry.”

RUEKIE: Oh jeepers, no!

GURTASH: No no no no no, don’t do that!

SALANDRIA: Yeesh, why?

SHAYARI: He does not like it when people call him that. For some reason.

MOKVAR: He’s killed for less.

GURTASH: Like, literally.

SALANDRIA: Huh. Okay…

LIADRIN: And hello, Gurtash. I’m happy to see you’re up and well.

GURTASH: Thanks.

SALANDRIA: What happened to him?

SHAYARI: Pip got himself sliced up by a drakonid. Also, hey Pip.

SALANDRIA: Ouch!

GURTASH: Hey.

SHAYARI: I know, right?

GURTASH: She said, as if she was the one getting cut up…

SALANDRIA: Is that how you got your scar?

Gurtash shifts uneasily.

’Cause it looks kinda fresh.

GURTASH: Uh… yeah.

SHAYARI: You know, that could have gotten even more awkward if the answer had been no.

RUEKIE: It’s really not so bad, Gurtash…

GURTASH: Yeah, I guess.

SALANDRIA: It actually looks kinda badass, Pip.

GURTASH: That’s not my name!

SHAYARI: <snickering>

SALANDRIA: Oh. Um…

RUEKIE: He doesn’t like it when people call him that.

SALANDRIA: So it’s kind of like his “Garry”?

SHAYARI: Other than the fact that no on really takes it seriously in his case, sure.

GURTASH: My name is Gurtash.

SHAYARI: He really does get wound up about it when people call him Pip.

GURTASH: You’re the only one that does.

SHAYARI: Okay. When I call him Pip.

SALANDRIA: Why do you call him that, then?

SHAYARI: Because he gets really wound up about it? I just said! He’s a real pip about it. Oh hey, there we go again.

GURTASH: Anyway… I’m Gurtash.

SALANDRIA: Hi. Salandria.

LIADRIN: Gurtash is one of the Warchief’s military trainees. And this is… I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve met your friend, Gurtash.

RUEKIE: My name’s Rue’kara. People call me Ruekie, though.

GURTASH: She’s another trainee like me.

LIADRIN: Ah, I see. I don’t think I’ve met any of Garrosh’s warrior proteges other than you, Gurtash.

GURTASH: Well, we’re not all warriors.

RUEKIE: I’m a shaman.

LIADRIN: Oh. I suppose I’d just assumed, since Garrosh is…well, rather emphatically a warrior himself.

GURTASH: A lot of us are, like– oh, hey, there they are over there — like Korrina and Kulkesh–

Gurtash waves to try to catch their attention across the festival grounds.

Nope. No go, they don’t see me. Anyhow, yeah, a lot of us are warriors, but there are a bunch like Ruekie who aren’t.

RUEKIE: Tuekie’s a rogue.

SHAYARI: Wait, who?

RUEKIE: Tuekie, my twin sister.

GURTASH: She’s a trainee, too.

RUEKIE: She just didn’t come with us to Pandaria, so she’s a little behind.

SHAYARI: Wait, your parents named her Tuekie?

RUEKIE: Well, Tue’kara.

SHAYARI: Right, but… after they named you Rue’kara?

RUEKIE: I think she was first by a couple minutes, actually.

SHAYARI: Okay, fine, concurrently, whatever. You’re missing the point.

RUEKIE: No, I get it. <shrugs> My parents are weird.

SALANDRIA: Right there with you.

LIADRIN: Salandria.

MOKVAR: It DOES seem pretty cruel to give twins names that rhyme.

RUEKIE: I know, I know…

SHAYARI: Sorry, Rue…

GURTASH: But yeah, there’s Tuekie, and Tov’osh. And Giska’s a monk, even.

RUEKIE: I think she’s– oh, yeah, there she is, helping the monk trainer set up.

SHAYARI: Her class trainer’s got her doing odd jobs setting up for a noodle festival?

GURTASH: Looks like it.

MOKVAR: I’m surprised Garrosh doesn’t do something like that with you kids.

GURTASH: <holding up sketch pad> Um, hello?

MOKVAR: Okay, point taken. But I mean, with ALL of you.

RUEKIE: Don’t give him ideas!

SALANDRIA: You mean he doesn’t? Huh, maybe I should look into being a warrior if the rock star thing doesn’t work out, what with the all the chores I was getting socked with as a pally-in-training…

LIADRIN: Don’t you get started about your apprenticeship duties again.

SALANDRIA: I’m just saying, I don’t really see what cleaning up after refugees had to do with perfecting my Crusader Strike!

LIADRIN: It was community service!

SALANDRIA: Suuuuuure…

SHAYARI: All I know is, Eddie’s got another thing coming if he starts trying to get me to do that kind of random crap for him.

SALANDRIA: Who’s Eddie?

SHAYARI: He’s my mage trainer. At least when he’s not preoccupied with making snarky comments about everything.

LIADRIN: Salandria, that’s the Dr. Faranell I’ve mentioned.

SALANDRIA: Oh, the dead guy? He’s that Eddie?

MOKVAR: Edwin.

SALANDRIA: Huh?

MOKVAR: He goes by Edwin. You probably don’t want to try calling him Eddie.

SHAYARI: Why? I always do.

LIADRIN: I’m sure “Dr. Faranell” will suffice.

SHAYARI: That’s so formal, though! I prefer Eddie.

SALANDRIA: Yeesh, you guys really like to call people things they don’t like, don’t you?

MOKVAR: You haven’t even met Garrosh yet…

GURTASH: Well, some of us do, yeah.

SHAYARI: Oh, it’ll grow on you, Pip.

MOKVAR: <to Liadrin> Are you sure you want to get her mixed up in all this?

LIADRIN: Completely sure? Hardly. But, better for her to have some contact with a few peers.

RUEKIE: There aren’t other blood elf kids in Silvermoon?

LIADRIN: There are, but… well, not all of them are necessarily the best influences.

MOKVAR: As opposed to the vast improvement you’re seeing here?

SHAYARI: Hey, we’re pretty damn cool, Beardy.

RUEKIE: Yeah!

GURTASH: Wait for it…

SHAYARI: At least the me part of the we.

RUEKIE: Hey!

GURTASH: Boom.

RUEKIE: Oh… Oh, hey, is that a guitar?

SALANDRIA: Yup!

RUEKIE: Do you play?

SHAYARI: No, she just carries it around to trick people.

RUEKIE: Are you good?

SALANDRIA: I’m getting there! That’s what I want to do. Someday I’m gonna open for the Elite Tauren Chieftains.

LIADRIN: Just so long as you keep your Tauren Chieftains ambitions limited to–

SALANDRIA: And marry Sig Nicious!

LIADRIN: Salandria…

SHAYARI: Okay, well, he is kinda cute.

RUEKIE: Which one is he?

MOKVAR: The kinda-cute one, I guess?

SALANDRIA: My future husband, that’s who!

LIADRIN: Salandria, even setting aside how unlikely it is that you would even meet him, you and I both know he’s much too old for you.

SALANDRIA: He is not!

LIADRIN: He’s in his 230s!

SALANDRIA: So? Didn’t you tell me once that you dated that ranger guy when you were younger?

LIADRIN: What about it?

SALANDRIA: So he was a lot older than you! How come that was okay?

LIADRIN: All right, granted, I was half his age. You, on the other hand, are the square root of his age.

SALANDRIA: Oh come on!

Garrosh enters, carrying a large pot and wearing a chef’s hat and apron. Malkorok, carrying another large pot (and looking none to happy about it) enters with him.

hordeironchef2

MOKVAR: Um…

SHAYARI: <shaking her head while facepalming> Oh, Light, just take me now…

LIADRIN: Um… hello, Warchief.

MOKVAR: I mean… do we not give you enough crap already?

GURTASH: Uhh…

GARROSH: Why the fuck are you people staring at me like I just sprouted a second head?

SHAYARI: <muttering> Maybe that one would have enough sense not to leave the house looking like that…

LIADRIN: It’s only that that’s a very… colorful outfit, sir.

MOKVAR: That’s one way to put it.

GARROSH: Hey, look, if I’m gonna cook, I might as well look the part, all right?

MOKVAR: And I mean… are those… are those murloc oven mitts?

GARROSH: THEY WERE A HOUSEWARMING GIFT FROM EITRIGG WHEN I MOVED TO ORGRIMMAR, OKAY?

SHAYARI: Oh Light, it just keeps getting worse…

LIADRIN: <squinting> And… am I not seeing your apron correctly, or is that lettering…?

GARROSH: Oh. Yeah. It was originally one of those aprons that say “Kiss the Chef.”

SHAYARI: <meekly> And it just keeps coming…

LIADRIN: And now…?

GARROSH: Well now I’ve gotten it doctored up around the “Chef” part. With a “War” in front and an I squeezed into the middle.

LIADRIN: I see…

MOKVAR: Wait, you actually sat down and sewed that onto the apron?

SHAYARI: Oh spirits, can’t we just let it go away…?

GARROSH: No, you jackass, I didn’t sit down and sew the damn apron. Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? I hired some tailors to fix it up for me.

SHAYARI: Wait, wait, hang on. This is important. You went to tailors about this?

GARROSH: Yeah, why?

SHAYARI: As in, tailors who run clothing stores kind of tailors?

GARROSH: Yeah, WHY?

SHAYARI: Okay, listen to me very carefully. Where exactly did you go for this?

GARROSH: Why the fuck does it even matter?

SHAYARI: Because I need to know who’s been made aware of this mana bomb of shame.

GARROSH: Huh. Let me think. I don’t even remember the name of the place…

SHAYARI: <pressing eyes closed and crossing fingers> Please say the goblin slums, please say the goblin slums, please say…

GARROSH: It was some place in Silvermoon, though.

SHAYARI: Oh Light…

LIADRIN: Oh dear. Shay, I hate to say this, but I think I might have had an unwitting hand in this…

SHAYARI: What did you do?!

GARROSH: Why the hell are you acting like me getting an apron is the damn apocalypse or something?

SHAYARI: You stay out of this!

GARROSH: Stay out of– I AM “THIS”!

LIADRIN: I was speaking with Garrosh a while back, and he’d asked me to recommend a tailor, so I pointed him toward a place in the Bazaar.

SHAYARI: Oh spirits save me…

LIADRIN: I didn’t know what he was looking for a tailor for specifically.

SHAYARI: Do you realize what you’ve done?! You didn’t stop and think why he might want a tailor?

LIADRIN: Well, to be fair, look at him. The possibilities are endless.

SHAYARI: Oh Light… which place?

GARROSH: Some “trusted” place, I think.

LIADRIN: Keelan’s Trustworthy Tailoring.

SHAYARI: Oh no… No, no, no, no

GARROSH: They turned it around really quick, gotta say.

LIADRIN: They always do.

GARROSH: Dude did look at me kind of funny when he got the order, though.

SHAYARI: Well, there’s one store I can never show my face in again…

SALANDRIA: Uh, does he always walk around looking like this?

SHAYARI: Oh, yeah, sure, every day Azeroth rotates backwards and the skies turn orange.

SALANDRIA: I’m going to take that as a no.

MOKVAR: Good call.

GARROSH: Look, I don’t care what you people–

Garrosh looks at Mokvar.

Hey, hang on a minute.

He looks Mokvar over again.

So wait, did you go and change up on us AGAIN?

MOKVAR: What do you mean?

GARROSH: I mean, you were a shaman back before you ran off on your damn crazy train mission looking for your crystal doohicky, right?

MOKVAR: Right.

GARROSH: And then you came back and you’d become a warlock again.

RUEKIE: <aside> Ohh, is that what happened with him? Handy recap!

GURTASH: <aside> Ssshhh, I think it’s about to take one of those turns.

MOKVAR: Yeah…?

RUEKIE: <aside> How can you tell?

GURTASH: <aside> I’ve been tagging along for these conversations for a long time now…

GARROSH: Well, look at you. Are you back to being a shaman again now?

MOKVAR: <sighs> No, no…

GARROSH: Because if so, dude, you’ve got some SERIOUS problems with career indecision, let me tell you.

MOKVAR: No, I’m not a shaman again. I’m still a warlock.

GARROSH: So what’s up with the non-warlock-being getup?

MOKVAR: I’m just wearing my other suit! Not everyone has to wear the same thing every day.

SHAYARI: Oh thank Light I’m not the only one who realizes that. There might be hope for you yet, Beardy.

Liadrin leans to look into the pot Garrosh is carrying.

LIADRIN: I take it, sir, that you’ve decided to offer your own… contribution to the festival?

SALANDRIA: You know, that smells pretty good, whatever it is.

MOKVAR: It actually does…

GARROSH: Yeah, I figured what the hell, I might as well get in on it a little.

LIADRIN: Most commendable, sir. What is it, exactly?

GARROSH: I doctored up one of Greatmother’s old recipes and whipped up some spicy talbuk noodles.

LIADRIN: I must admit, sir, I didn’t realize that you cooked.

GARROSH: Garadar chili cook off champion, I’ll have you know.

MOKVAR: Weren’t you actually first runner up?

GARROSH: Not after Grok’nar had that unfortunate incident with the severe head trauma from several large rocks. Which I’m sure they’ll rule was natural causes if they ever find his body.

SHAYARI: I have to admit, he’s actually not a bad cook.

LIADRIN: I see you’re a man of many talents, sir.

GARROSH: You know, it’s funny, you’re not the first blood elf woman to tell me that.

SHAYARI: <cringing> You realize you’re just making my future therapy bills worse…

GARROSH: …this week.

SHAYARI: Welp, there’s two more months right there.

GARROSH: I guess I just need ol’ Lunchbox to get me set up at a station or something.

GURTASH: It looks like he’s getting some more setup done with Giska over there.

RUEKIE: I’ll try to watch for them, sir.

LIADRIN: In the meantime, Garrosh, allow me to introduce my daughter, Salandria. I’m sure, conversely, the Warchief needs no introduction.

GARROSH: Oh, yeah, I remember you mentioning her.

SALANDRIA: Hi, sir. Nice tats.

GARROSH: Huh. Thanks. Traditional Warsong markings.

SALANDRIA: They’re cool. <leaning and looking behind Garrosh> Soooooo, how far down do they go…?

LIADRIN: Salandria, don’t start!

SALANDRIA: I’m just asking!

LIADRIN: You know perfectly well.

SHAYARI: <squeezing eyes closed> Ohhh, spirits, please don’t let this become a thing.

GARROSH: Well, while we’re waiting on Pudge, some of you people might as well dig in for some of the talbuk-noodly goodness.

SALANDRIA: Bah, I still need to get a bowl.

MOKVAR: Here, I’ve got mine.

Mokvar passes a bowl over to Garrosh, who spoons out some noodles.

GARROSH: Yeah, here, try not to get any in your beard for once.

Garrosh holds the bowl out to Mokvar. Before Mokvar can take it, Deliana unstealths and grabs it from Garrosh’s hand.

DELIANA: Thanks! Smells good!

Deliana stealths again and vanishes.

GARROSH: Um.

Garrosh blinks, then turns back to Malkorok.

Seriously, dude, a little fucking SECURITY up in this bitch? Isn’t that kind of your whole fucking JOB?

MALKOROK: Ugh, apologies, Warchief. Although this does illustrate some issues we’ve been… ugh, regardless… <waving to nearby guards, then approaching them> Kor’kron!

GARROSH: Wait, actually…

Garrosh turns back to Mokvar.

How is it, exactly, that your little human friend is SNEAKING INTO ORGRIMMAR?

MOKVAR: Garrosh, you’ve met her. Do you really think I could make her stay away even if I wanted?

GARROSH: Yeah, well, if Malk manages to track her down, you better not hold your breath waiting for her to turn up again. Anyway, in the meantime, you can wait for your helping until she brings back your damn bowl. So… who else is up?

RUEKIE: I’d like to try some, sir!

GARROSH: Yeah, okay. Here.

Garrosh spoons a large portion of noodles into Ruekie’s bowl.

RUEKIE: Oh, wow, sir. You sure know how to give a girl a mouthful!

Everyone stares at Ruekie for a moment.

Oh gosh! I didn’t– I mean– I– I’m gonna stop talking now.

MOKVAR: At least you’ve got noodles.

Deliana unstealths and drops an empty bowl into Mokvar’s hands.

DELIANA: Here you go! Good stuff!

Deliana stealths again and vanishes.

GARROSH: <bellowing over at Malkorok> UH, MALK, ANYTIME YOU AND YOUR PEOPLE WANNA GET YOUR HEADS OUT OF YOUR ASSES WOULD BE TERRIFIC!

SALANDRIA: Is this what it’s usually like with you guys?

SHAYARI: You have no idea.

 

{As it turns out, the Pandaren Noodle Festival brought far more absurdity than I could hope to pack into one post, so our Orgrimmar block party will continue soon, with appearances from even more of our supporting cast. TO BE CONTINUED soon — stay tuned…}

 

A day in the life

orgrimmar5

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.

 

Battle scars (part 4)

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[Since this multi-parter has been interspersed between a few other posts, here are quick-reference links to Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. And, in case you need a reminder of how Gurtash ended up here, take this one, too.]

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Monday mailbag

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Okay, kids, time once again for everyone to gather round while I see what kinds of forays into ridiculousness await in this round of mail. Here we go…

 

Dear Warchief,

I’m just curious, is there a particular reason you tend to go shirtless? Not that I’m complaining. That is, obviously it’s your choice how you want to armor yourself, sir. But it doesn’t seem like it would provide much protection for you in battle.

Purely concerned about the safety of our leader,

–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City.

So, I think we can safely file this one under #TheLadiesLoveGarrosh, right?

I mean the letter. Not my answer. Necessarily.

But, let’s put it this way. I don’t think we’ve ever met in person, Tandeleina, but all your letters have come from Silvermoon. So, seeing as you’re most likely a blood elf, let me ask YOU a question: why is it that when it’s time for YOUR people to pick out some armor to wear, more often than not it’s some kind of plate bikini? Or mail. Wouldn’t want to discriminate against the hunters. Or rogues, because when you add leather to the mix, hoo boy.

I was actually going to give a few examples here to illustrate my point, but I ended up deciding against it, because (1) you should be so lucky, (2) we’ve ALL ALREADY SEEN THEM ALL, like every time we freaking GO OUTSIDE in a major city, and (3) I already get enough creepy search terms in my Google traffic, and why court more attention from weirdos?

Still, the fact remains, it seems like every other the blood elf out there feels the need to run around in gear that could double as swimwear. Even when she’s a tank. Take a second and think about that one, by the way. Her WHOLE JOB is to be WELL-PROTECTED. She TAKES and MITIGATES damage FOR A LIVING. And what outfit did she pick out for this endeavor? The ol’ plate-kini.

See, this all comes down to a strange principle of physics that most people don’t know about. It’s called the Focus Distortion Field. Here’s the basic equation:

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Where your opponent’s chance of hitting you gets reduced by an amount that can be calculated using your total body surface area, St, the surface area of skin coverage, Sc, and that whole mess of stuff in parentheses, which represents your personal hotness level as determined by body observational optimality times exhibitional enticement, or, if you want to can treat the surface area fraction as your Nudity Index, you can just remember the whole damn hit penalty calculation as Nudity times BOOTEE squared.

Bottom line: the hotter you are and the more you’re showing it off — you know, without leaving yourself TOTALLY vulnerable to a really really bad glancing hit — the harder it is for anyone to concentrate enough to actually hit you. So, see, it’s actually just all about the math.

So there. That’s your technical answer to why I don’t wear a shirt.

The REAL answer, though?

With abs like this, why WOULD I?

<waggle>

 

Dear Sir?

Why haven’t you replaced your well worn, torn, and stitched back together again pants? I would think there would be plenty of tailors that would be more than honored to stitch you a new pair of pants.

–Ruekie, Shaman-in-training

Nice to hear from you, Rook. I mean, it’s only been like twenty minutes since I saw you IN PERSON, but you know what? I’ve given up trying to figure out this thing with you writing me letters all the time.

(By the way, this whole letter-writing thing with Ruekie is even weirder and more endemic than you guys get to see. I pick and choose which of these letters of hers I use in my mailbags. She sends me like three a day. Half the time she’s asking stuff that it doesn’t even make sense to be shy about, like what combat drills we’re going to do today, or what’s for lunch at the mess hall. Your guess is as good as mine.)

So anyway.

Item number one:

I WILL THANK YOU TO STOP STARING AT MY PANTS, ROOK. I don’t want this to be a conversation we keep needing to have, dammit.

Item number two:

What the fuck is this, “EVERYBODY TAKE A VAGUELY CREEPY INTEREST IN WHAT GARROSH IS AND ISN’T WEARING” WEEK? I mean really, between you and Tandeleina, what the fuck gives? Yeesh.

Item number three:

Look, I’m going to be straight with you here. Yes, sure, I can get a tailor to stitch me a new pair of pants. You think I never tried that? I’ve had I-don’t-know-how-many pairs of pants made. And I could do it again, sure. I could head right over to Magar’s Cloth and have some new pants made. And you know what would happen then? The same thing that’s happened every OTHER fucking time I’ve had new pants made: they’ll just wind up being ripped and worn from my many and sundry female fans flocking and grabbing and otherwise just… you know… trying their damnedest to get at the good stuff.

Because, you know.

#TheLadiesLoveGarrosh

#ToAnUnhealthyDegreeActually

And I mean, after a while, when that shit keeps happening, it starts getting expensive buying a new pair all the time. It’s just easier to patch them up and get a little more mileage out of them. LET IT NEVER BE SAID THAT DEAD SEXY DOESN’T COME AT A PRICE.

 

Hi again, Professor G.

I have it on good authority that you like tomatoes. True or false?

–Valinora “Lightshorn”, Stormwind City

…Professor G?

I mean, okay, it’s not like it doesn’t have a certain ring to it, because it does. But it makes me sound like… I don’t know… like I’m the brainiac mentor of some team of superheroes, and we have our underground compound with a Proving Grounds-type training room with animated target dummy illusions, and I’m all guiding them to get them ready to fight the good fight. Which actually isn’t completely detached from reality, come to think of it, so maybe I should get Gurtash on that.

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Hmm. Nah. That shit would never take off. Also, fucking hell, I need to stop spending so much time around Spazzle. His geeky bullshit is starting to rub off on everybody.

Anyway. What was the question again? Oh, yeah, tomatoes.

And you know what? I don’t know where these rumors get started. First there was the talk about me having a half-draenei daughter (which, okay, that one was totally true), then there was the story about me getting lapdances now and again from a Zandalari troll (fine, guilty as charged on that one, too), THEN there was that business in all the Silvermoon gossip rags about the thing involving Thalassian Brandi (I will neither confirm nor deny this one)… and NOW, people are telling tales out of school that I like tomatoes?

Well, you know what? I have to draw the line somewhere, because FUCK tomatoes. You know what a tomato is? It’s a fucking food decoy. It’s some overhyped garnish that they throw into your food to make it look like you’re getting more food, only all it does is fuck everything up. You ever try taking a perfectly good burger and putting a tomato on it? You know what ends up happening? It just makes everything else in there all soggy and slippery until every part of the burger is sliding in a different fucking direction every time to try to take a damn bite, and to make matters worse, it’s taking up space that could have been devoted to something else that could be crisp and stable and actually give a little traction to help KEEP the damn thing together, like, oh, I know know, BACON.

You tell me: if someone told you you could have bacon or tomato added to your sandwich, which would YOU pick? Yeah. I thought so. FUCK THE TOMATO.

And that seems like as good a note as any to end on. More soon.

Seriously, fuck the tomato.

 

[Garrosh’s next mailbag will be Monday, February 1. And I promise I’ll be getting the last installment of the comic mini-arc of Gurtash’s return up ASAP. In the meantime, be getting those letters in to the Warchief — use the email link at the top of the right sidebar, or the handy form below:]

 

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:

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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…

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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!]