Category Archives: EPIC VERSE

Count Your Blessings

Okay, so, while I was brainstorming ideas for this last installment of EPIC VERSE, I put a call out on Twitter for suggestions, and you people stepped up with a bunch of options…

And I figured, why the fuck not, let’s just DO THEM ALL. IN ONE POEM.

Here we go. STRAP IN, BITCHES.

 

Last time around, we got started with promise
Then fizzled out. You were here, though. You saw this.
But now I’m giving it just one more trial,
Recounting things that make your Warchief smile.

You might be skeptical there’s such a list;
Maybe your guess is that I’m always pissed.
Yeah, well, try spending a year with this crew —
Your long fuse will become much shorter, too.

Anyway, never mind. Yeah, fuck that noise.
We won’t be dwelling on shit that annoys.
Forget about all that, and in its place
Let’s look at what brings a smile to my face.

Wyverns are awesome, dude, there’s no discounting.
None moreso than the one I’m epic-mounting.
Mortimer brings chimaeras to their knees;
So badass even the druid agrees.

After a wyvern ride, back home to quaff a
Giant-sized tankard of Pandaren kafa.
Say what you want, but those pandas are keen
When it comes time to deliver caffeine.

And while the kafa’s hot, Kor’kron chef’s makin’
Forty-three pounds of thick-cut hellboar bacon.
After all that, appetite’s undiminished;
While there are boars still left, breakfast ain’t finished.

Google more “Garrosh“ likes and the result is
Dead humans, dead gnomes, and dead Twilight cultists.
Also dead Grimtotem, Magatha’s kin;
Call me when she’s caught and torture begins.

You know I love when a plan comes together.
(It rarely does with these goons, but whatever.)
Rarer still from the minions I’ve collected:
When my authority’s actually respected.

Now, with my trainees, their loyalty’s ample;
I wish more grown-ups followed their example.
Good thing this training gig’s plenty rewarding —
Easy’s to teaching as brief is to Fordring.

DPS kids are heroes on the rise.
(Gurtash needs work, but at least, hey, he tries.)
Lethal from day one; this much, let’s agree on:
Nobody’s missing a bunch of dead peons.

Ruekie tries hard even when things go south,
Effortlessly puts her foot in her mouth.
Already haste-buffed; one day she’ll go mental
Summoning her own kafa elemental.

Korrina’s deadly when she gets attacked;
Bane to the lizards — now that’s a #SaurFact.
Snapping off Ruekie’s fork just to eat noodles
(Captured forever in Gurtash’s doodles).

Gurtash was first of them I brought on board.
Draws comics better than he draws his sword.
Kid’s got to work on becoming more skilled.
He’ll toughen up (if he doesn’t get killed…).

Giska’s kung fu punches make your face swell up;
Kulkesh is… let’s face it… underdeveloped.
They’ll have more missions, they’ll win with panache
(So long as they don’t end up like Lok’osh).

Let’s send the kids home; this part’s not PG.
’Cause you know hashtag-TheLadiesLoveMe.
Trust me, the fact that my minions are noobs
Ain’t the lone way I’m surrounded by boobs.

You’ve seen my mailbags and Twitter replies;
Tip of the iceberg, between you and I.
They flock to Orgrimmar at my behest,
Putting the groupie in epic group quest.

That’s me, inspiring a fawning persona —
Uukra and Wega, Zaela and Garona.
Rak and Aranya, Thalassian Brandi,
One thing in common: /waggle gets them randy.

One shirtless /flex and they’re looking for action;
Gathering round, irregardless of faction.
So, who to pick when I’m looking for love?
Maybe I’ll go with D) All the above.

But even while a near harem is swirling,
There’s one girl from whom I want no fangirling:
Normally I might be lewd, even sleazy,
But that Sylvanas just makes me uneasy.

Even when mannered, she always seems dicey;
Hot on the outside, sure; inside, she’s icy.
At least one fish in the sea I’d throw back;
LadiesLoveGarrosh — he don’t love ’em all back.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

[That does it for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge for this time around! Just a reminder, I’ll be taking a short break for the next couple of weeks due to hectic real-life goings-on, but after that, we’ll be back again with a weekly Wednesday installment, starting May 20!]

 

Look on the Bright Side

[Yes, I know, a day late… but better late EPIC VERSE than no EPIC VERSE at all, right?]

Some of you might want to ask
Why I always take to task
Blundering
Underlings
In my EPIC VERSE.

“Surely, Garrosh,” you might claim,
“All of them can’t be so lame!
Maybe sad;
Not that bad!”
Actually, they’re worse.

Hey, but let’s not dwell on griping;
Asswipes always be asswiping.
But instead,
Go ahead —
Brace yourself for this one:

Just this once, no bleak opinions —
Singing praises of my minions!
What’s that look?
Yeah, it took
Some trying to get this done.

I wish half my minions had been
Half as able as Liadrin.
That’s my loss;
Blood Knight boss,
Scholar and tactician.

Even when our plans have blown up,
She’s the one who’s been the grown-up:
Keeps her shit,
Handles it,
Closes out the mission.

Mokvar — brains and skill? He passes.
Never respecs; he reclasses:
Warlock days,
Shaman’s ways,
Back to lock he varied.

Churns out transcripts smooth and slickly;
Don’t know how he writes so quickly.
Dude, respect.
Just reject
That human that you married.

Spazzle’s useless in a battle,
But tech problems? Well now that’ll
Be his game.
Just the same,
Dude is such a peewee.

But I’m s’posed to keep my focus
On the positive; that bloke is
Handy for
Fixing your
Wireless network D/C’s.

Give Sylvanas this much credit:
No endeavor makes her sweat it.
Cool as ice,
Once or twice
She’s risen from disaster.

(Still, sometimes her smug beseeming
Makes me wonder what she’s scheming.
Hopefully
One day we
Won’t have to outcast her…)

Lor’thewhatshisname is… spiffy.
Picks your drapes out in a jiffy.
Hair care tips,
Table flips,
Hands out quest-gold proceeds.

He would make an awesome spy;
Everyone forgets this guy.
Stroll right in,
Walk out, win,
SI:7 — no leads.

Ji’s your guy in case you want to
Empty out a pantry pronto.
Skills he’s got —
When he’s not
Busy eating pocky.

Baine is… okay, now we’re straining.
All he’s good at is complaining.
I suppose
Tauren goes
Well with teriyaki.

D&U… Okay, I’m trying.
Cut some slack, I’m up here dying.
I began
With a plan
That might not be appeased.

Yeah, that’s all the lines I’m inking.
I don’t know what I was thinking —
Blood and bone
From a stone
Just cannot be squeezed.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

 

Shipwreck Me Twice, Shame on Me

When Nazgrim the legionnaire
Took over the captain’s chair,
With his new commission
He went on a mission
But he never made it there.

His vessel, instead, went splat
When it ran into Ozumat.
It floated no more;
To the ocean floor
It sunk and then that was that.

Nazgrim survived in Vashj’ir
And came home to Orgrimmar here;
Two more years in the bank,
A general’s rank
I granted the brigadier.

When we found a new land cloaked in mist,
I gave Nazgrim Hellscream’s Fist;
He had one command:
To go seize this land.
But then came the frustrating twist.

With the mists of Pandaria clearing,
Nazgrim somehow still had trouble steering:
He made his air skiff glide
Right into the cliffside.
I tell you, this quirk ain’t endearing.

So given two ships, Nazgrim wrecked ’em.
You might wonder, why would I select ’im?
My options aren’t packed; he
Was best of my lackeys
Who mostly have heads up their rectums.

But Nazgrim? A brain? Yeah, he’s got one.
He’ll step up for the jobs that are not fun.
And in times souls are tried,
He’ll ride in by your side —
Just make sure that you make him ride shotgun.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

More EPICness in a few days… don’t forget to give suggestions in the comments for what other LYRICAL MASTERPIECES you’d like to see from your Warchief. Topics, opening lines, whatever comes to mind. YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS.

 

The Expendables

When Dontrag and Utvoch enlisted at first,
Within a few minutes, Thrall thought he was cursed.
They’d barely shown up when their path was reversed:
To Ashenvale they were assigned.

To Splintertree Post they were hurried along,
Where Utvoch would sneak to nearby Forest Song
To leer at the draenei (It know, it’s so wrong) —
The hooves spellbound his one-track mind.

At first, D&U made a good enough showing,
Until Mastok made his mistake, without knowing:
One “hello” in passing; that just got them going.
Try shutting them up? It’s no use.

Two weeks of their babbling left Mastok shaken,
But then came the Shattering, saving his bacon:
For all the destruction and death it was makin’,
It also gave him his excuse.

With Ashenvale rocked, opportunity soared —
Then Silverwind Refuge was claimed by the Horde!
Mastok realized they needed new troops on board,
And he knew two orcs for the job.

They caught the next caravan heading down there.
The transfer was rushed, but Mastok didn’t care;
Just let them be stuck in Captain Tarkan’s hair!
Let his be the time that they rob.

But Tarkan’s a smart one — he sized up his gains
And knew right away D&U had no brains,
And, saving himself several dozen migraines,
He shuffled them out of his sight.

By this point, ol’ D&U’s heads, they were spinning;
These transfers had them dizzy idiot-grinning.
But who knew their story was only beginning?
From Ashenvale they rode by night.

To Stonetalon Mountains they made their meander,
Where Overlord Krom’gar was their new commander.
They showed him their papers, he scarce took a gander,
And took them on board to enlist ’em.

So basically Tarkan made Krom’gar a sucker;
That’s great, ’cause you know I hate that motherfucker.
That dude can lean into my ass with a pucker —
Except I’ve already dismissed ’im.

Fast forward a few months, and D&U’s blather
Had worn out its welcome (though really I’d rather
Have seen them annoy Krom’gar straight to a lather);
He’d tired of their jokes and their speeches.

At this point, some silence was all Krom’gar craved
(If only he knew he’d get lots in the grave),
So he sent their asses off into a cave:
Assigned them to watch the Deep Reaches.

And that’s where I found them; I never suspected
What kind of annoying asshats I’d collected,
Or to what frustration I’d soon be subjected;
Perhaps Krom’gar got the last laugh.

They’re always around now; it’s like some confinement
Where nothing I do can untwine our entwinement;
You’d think someone else could once get the assignment —
I need better minions on staff.

So this is my life now — I go anyplace,
I turn around once, I’ve got them in my face;
Pandaria, Orgrimmar — hell, Netherspace!
All plans to escape just unravel.

As much as I’d like to unload them, I’m stuck;
When you’re Warchief, there’s no more passing the buck.
I wish I could go back and warn myself — fuck,
Strike that idea. FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.

So ever since D&U first got recruited,
The one common thread has been them getting booted.
That might be the only job to which they’re suited
Since nobody wants them around.

If you had to deal with them, you’d do it, too.
I’m sure I’ll repeat this more times than a few:
You cannot spell “dumbass” without D and U.
Now ’scuse me — in beer I must drown.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge continues later this week — remember, new BRILLIANT AND EPIC COMPOSITIONS will go up every Tuesday and Friday for the duration of National Poetry Month. Be sure to post suggestions and requests for future installments in the comments below — give me a topic, give me an opening line, give me someone who’s done you wrong who you’d like me to give an EPIC VERSE takedown. Unless you think I did you wrong somehow. WHICH I MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT. So maybe YOU will be getting the takedown. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES, HUH?

More soon.

 

Tales of the Earth Online-pocalypse

Well you know how I kill time
On that game called Earth Online
In a nightmare future world that’s purely human.
But my gamings been derailed
And my login time curtailed
Cause recently a freakish techie threat’s been loomin.

Seems some hacker was desirous
Of a vile computer virus
To completely undermine our in-game doin’s.
Well then, grats on that one, bastard,
’Cause you’ve definitely mastered
The fine art of leaving our whole game in ruins.

See, the way that this thing works
Is some shut-in virgin jerks
Planted coding in the game to skulk in hiding;
There was no direct disruption,
Not a hunt of file corruption,
Till it picked a toon or two and went out riding.

So some unsuspecting losers
Logged on just like any users,
Never knowing that their character was tainted;
While they quested and hard-moded,
The damn virus got downloaded —
Five days later, their computer blue-screen fainted.

Hold on tight — the plot gets thicker.
Now here comes the goddamn kicker —
In those five days up until the time bomb blew,
Infested players kept on playing
And to all nearby conveying
The damn virus… so they downloaded it, too.

So the virus started rolling.
And this shit went way past trolling —
People’s hard drives got wiped out by this damn griefer.
And you’d think the circumstances
Could be managed, but your chances
Would be better making Tirion be briefer.

Everybody knew the danger:
Keep your character at range or
You might give the virus more room to disperse.
Just stay back a couple yards!
But of course, some fucking tards
Just kept partying and making matters worse.

Now the player base was scattered
And some raiding guilds were shattered
’Cause the spreading of the virus wasn’t random.
And the sole hope of resistance
Was on antisocial distance,
Separating the whole Earth Online game fandom.

Hubs have emptied by default;
Raiding’s ground down to a halt;
In-game economics slowed to nearly nix —
Save for this one wallet-raper
Auction-housing toilet paper.
(Hmm, I wonder if that fucker’s Gallywix…)

Now for all my dire opining
I’ll admit, one silver lining
Has come out of all this virtual disarray:
’Cause this viral infestation
Gives me more justification
To tell D&U to stay the fuck away.

Now this whole thing’s leaving me stunned
(Plus I better get a refund…)
There’s no precedent for this mess to compare to.
And those devs had better reckon
That I’ll bash their fucking neck in
If they try to keep my money (if they dare to).

But there’s still a bigger issue:
Earth Online’s fucked up; you wish you
Could keep playing, but for now it’s off the menu.
For your downtime fun and mirth
There’s no more roaming ’round on Earth —
We’re all stuck in Azeroth’s boring old venue.

So for spiritual sustainment,
You all need new entertainment!
While this EO lockdown goes from bad to worse,
All my followers and minions
Need more musings and opinions!
And above all, I know you need

OH OH HEY HANG ON A SECOND, I know EXACTLY what I can compare this whole fucking mess to — you remember that whole deal right at the start of the Northrend campaign, when that zombie plague broke out, like out of fucking NOWHERE? You know, there were all those weird crates turning up out of nowhere, and the fucking syphilitic roaches and shit, and next thing you knew, people were running around breathing zombie stank all over each other, and then they would croak, and, you know, good riddance ’cause FUCK THAT PLAGUE-CARRYING ASSHOLE, only it just kept spreading and spreading? Remember how fucked up that shit was?

Yeah, so, this is a lot like that. Only I guess it was worse then, because back then people were getting plagued for real, and this Earth Online thing is just a game.

On the other hand, back then, I hadn’t just sunk a shit-ton of gold into a new badass gaming rig that I DON’T GET TO USE NOW, so, you know, who’s to say which is the real tragedy? You be the judge.

Anyway, I… okay, where was I? Oh yeah…

 

…EPIC VERSE!

 

But yeah, I know you people need some kind of entertainment to fill your empty lives, now that Earth is all fucked up and shit, and you can’t go running there and hiding from, you know, the aforementioned empty lives that I mentioned. So yeah. Stay tuned. YOUR WARCHIEF’S GOT YOUR BACK, MOTHERFUCKERS.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, that attempt to digitize the blight didn’t go nearly as planned. Oh well, unlive and learn. ~_^

 

Lyrical leftovers

dontragutvoch5

Did I say that was the LAST dose of reader-prompted poetry-month-honoring EPIC VERSE you were getting treated to? WELL GUESS WHAT, MOTHERFUCKERS, I just took a cursory look at my handy desk calendar, the one where I would note down everybody’s birthday if I actually gave half a fuck, and THE MONTH ISN’T OVER YET. So even though it’s too damn late for you lazy scrubs to send in a poem of your own for the INTERNET FAME AND RECOGNITION YOU DON’T EVEN REMOTELY DESERVE BUT ARE GOING TO WIND UP GETTING ANYWAY BECAUSE THANKS GARROSH, there’s still time to grab one more of these submissions from the pile and treat you to one more of dose of awesome.

Because I’m a giver. And because I underpromise and overdeliver. And also because I’m still stuck on this damn boat heading down to Pandaria and if I don’t find something vaguely productive to do then it’s just a matter of time before SOMEONE on this boat starts to look irresistibly breakable.

So, speaking of people I would relish snapping into a couple hundred very tiny pieces (admittedly, this isn’t exactly an exclusive club), today’s reader poem comes from… <sigh>… spirits help us… Dontrag and Utvoch.

So… you know… not too much else for me to say about that. Let’s get this over with.

 

ONE MEAN, TOO MEAN.
We Mean Hellscream

By Sargeant Dontrag
And Grunt Utvoch

One mean, too mean
Garrosh Hellscream.
We mean you’re mean.
Too mean, we scream.

One mean, too mean.
Not share, no fair.
Don’t care anywhere.
Only care lemon square.

One mean, too mean
Slam door, stomp floor.
Settle score once more.
Nevermore Theramore.

One mean, too mean
One joke, two pokes.
Two blokes, slowpokes.
Two strokes, both croaks.

(Not yet, anyway)

One mean, too mean.
Not green, it seem.
You preen, ladies scream.
Umpteen, it’s obscene.

One mean, too mean.
Even seem little teen.
Figurine mean machine.
Femineene Hellscream.

Umm.

One mean, too mean.
Bell cursed, orcs worst.
Wrynn dispersed, left in hearse.
Got a nurse, death reversed.

Uh.

One mean, too mean.
Poor Steve, we grieve.
We leave before peeve.
Eve receive heave cleave.

Bye.

 

So… I suppose… I mean, I don’t even… Yeah. Fine. So there’s that.

It bears noting, by the way? That poem required two people to write.

Meanwhile, returning to the land of the not-stupid who can scrape together a few rhymes without needing to hold a conference, time for me to offer my… response. Which… yeah. I don’t really see this ending well, but here goes.

 

One herp, two derp.
Lunchtime, slurp burp.
No twirp usurp
Kings of herp-derp.

One herp, two derp.
Birdbrain, my bane.
Their brain: shit stain.
My pain? Explain:

One herp, two derp.
See me at sea.
Trainee runs free;
As for me? Can’t flee.

One herp, two derp.
Their insane word chain.
I complain; migrane;
Profane; bloodstain.

One herp, two derp.
Three smacks (four max).
Rage stacks, bone cracks,
My axe cleaves sacks.

One herp, two derp.
Each goon a buffoon.
Both hewn by noon.
Harpoon: death soon.

One herp, two derp.
Abhorred; need sword.
Kick toward Howling Fjord,
Thrown, soared, overboard.

One herp, two derp.
One blast from mast;
Ship fast; they’ve passed,
Distance vast; peace at last.

BYE MOTHERFUCKING BYE, MOTHERFUCKERS.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

I mean, not that I should ever be surprised when Dumb and Dumber do something idiotic, but they REALLY didn’t think this one through, seeing as they sent me their… their… verbal equivalent of brain cancer, KNOWING full well they were going to be on a ship with me where there would be very few places to hide or run away.

Oh well. At least they get to practice their swimming now. For the entire rest of the trip. STOP YOUR BITCHING, JACKASSES, SWIMMING IS HEALTHY. Especially when the alternative to swimming is being on a boat with someone who’s liable to fucking MURDER you.

So. That wraps up this edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge for real. Thanks and congrats to everyone who contributed, all that stuff, whatever. I’m sure I’ll be throwing down some more EPIC VERSE soon enough just because. Or EPIC TALES of my EPIC LIFE. Or if you-know-who and you-know-who-else decide to try to crawl back on board, maybe EPIC RECAPS of me giving an EPIC BEATING to a couple EPIC PAINS in my EPIC ASS.

Okay, enough of that crap. Time to go up on deck and… I don’t know… be bored looking at the same view of the ocean I’ve been staring at this whole trip. Or listen to the Wonder Twins bickering about how to do a breaststroke. Or both. Ugh.

Water water everywhere, I think I need a drink.

 

Further tourist destinations

ashenvale1

So while I’m making my way down to Pandaria again (I’M ON A BOAT, MOTHERFUCKERS), I went ahead and loaded up the blog with a couple goodies, not least of all being this, the final installment (OR IS IT?) (probably but you never know) of GARROSH’S POETRY CHALLENGE.

For those of you coming late to the party, or who’ve had maybe some sort of head trauma (for some reason, Dontrag and Utvoch come to mind, which is unfortunate, partly because it’s ALWAYS unfortunate when you think about Dontrag and Utvoch, but also because something seems inherently wrong about any sentence that includes “Dontrag and Utvoch” and “mind”) and so you’re severely prone to forgetting shit, I’ve been commemorating National Poetry Month by inviting all of you, MY LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS, to write your own original poems. You send in poems, I write my own in response, you get shown up by my brilliance, you cry, I win. In other words, Thursday.

So, on to today’s guest poet — namely, our old friend Sarlin. Let’s get right to it…

 

Rainforests sprinkled in glitter
Horde posts and dead Night Elf litter
Demons, ghosts and cans of fel
Old Gods and Ghamoo-ra’s shell

Twilight’s Hammer plus ten punts
Brainless orcs, one scout, ten grunts
Draka with an extra “a”
Warlocks with plots to betray

Throwing stars and soaring glaives
Slice wooden shields and silly staves
Demolishers spitting out their skill
And rare spawns that the Horde can’t kill

Spider rogues, like we don’t already flee them
But now they stealth, so you can’t SEE them
Wolves and foxes and walking pus
And giant trees that throw stuff at us

Sounds bearable, if you’re asking me.
We’ll be out of here at level thirty
Long enough to earn your wail and flail
Welcome, Horde, to Ashenvale

 

Well, I’ll give her this much — she managed not to blurt out one of those multi-volume saga poems. I was really bracing myself for something like 300 stanzas of fifteen lines each. But no, she managed to keep herself reined in, and not embarrass herself too severely in the process. Maybe I should make her communicate in rhyme more often — seems like it forces her to be a lot more concise.

She DID wind up leaving out a few things in her tour of Ashenvale, though. Here, I’ll fix that…

 

Listen now while I’m detailing
Ins and outs of Ashenvaling.
Come and batter; foes will scatter;
Plus you’ll escape Barrens chatter.

Sleepy words of night elf slumber;
Glitter coating Warsong lumber.
Magnataur fight for the Horde might —
Meh, back to the drawing board, right?

Wyverns soaring, bombs downpouring,
Battle lines are tug-of-warring;
Hopes are stark in battles sparkin’;
Morons think they’re still with Tarkan.

Furbolgs’ mischief that they wish up.
(These ones don’t call me Archbishop.)
Dragons guard a nightmare portal.
(Used to prove you weren’t immortal.)

But one site to be saluted,
Scene of triumph undisputed:
Dark-skied canyon we know well
Where Grommash stood and demons fell.

Next zone’s not for the fainthearted;
Stonetalon: don’t get me started.
Things are better there — don’t bristle —
Ever since Krom’gar’s dismissal.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

There you go. That’s more like it. Everything you ever wanted to know about Ashenvale, and probably a few things you didn’t, with maybe two or three things you didn’t give a shit about thrown in as a chaser.

So, that does it for this year’s poetry challenge. Unless maybe I decide to toss some bonus goodies up here before the month completely runs out. Either way, congratulations to everyone who was HONORED BEYOND THEIR WILDEST DREAMS by being included, and thanks to everyone who submitted. And a big fat WHY THE FUCK NOT? to everyone who didn’t. Lazy fuckers.

Well, even though poetry month is winding down, you jokers still have a chance to show you’re not COMPLETELY lazy and useless. We’ve got a brand spanking new mailbag coming up in short order, so if you’re one of those clowns who couldn’t be bothered to participate in my GENEROUS ATTEMPT TO BRING SOME DAMN CULTURE TO YOU SLOBS, well, you better get off your ass and scrape together a letter. HEY, LOOK, SLACKERS — IT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE TO RHYME OR ANYTHING.

There you go. You know the drill — e-mail link up top on the right, form below. Get on it. More soon.

 

 

DPS (poetry) check

poetry2

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.

 

Splitting hairs

silvermoon1

Okay, people, time for our next installment of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge. For anyone who hasn’t been following — FOR WHAT REASON I CAN’T IMAGINE — I’ve been commemorating National Poetry Month by inviting my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS to send in their own forays into poetic not-quite-Garroshity-but-hey-at-least-they-tried. Every week at this time I’ll be choosing a reader submission to post and acknowledge, then answer with my own EPIC VERSE MASTERPIECE inspired in some way by my featured guest poem.

As it turns out, I got a TON of submissions this week, so let’s have a look at today’s selection. This one comes from someone who identifies herself only as “Disgruntled Bad Hair Day Blood Elf.” Which, I mean, do whatever you want about THAT combination of terms. The jokes nearly write themselves. While you soak in the yuk-yuks, though, here, have a look at what the blood elf in question has for us…

 

Hey Garrosh, Great Warchief
I’d like to be witty
But you promised me hairstyles
In Silvermoon City

We ride through the town
Looking high and low
But for a Varian hairpiece
There’s no where to go!

No Goblin coiffeur
No shampoo and set
No wavy perms, hairpins,
We’ve got nothing yet!

So here’s a reminder
With my poetry ditty
Cause me and the boys well…
We want to look PRETTY!!!

 

Not bad, all considered, and plus, you know, there’s a sentiment you would never, ever expect to see coming from a blood elf, right? So, speaking of which, time for my contribution, where I pick right up on that very point. Here we go…

 

Well look at that, look at that,
Wonder sustaining,
That rarest of sights:
It’s a blood elf complaining.

Listen, Disgruntled,
I hate to sound hateful,
But you goddamn blood elves
Are awfully ungrateful.

Day after day I’m here
Busting my ass,
But what thanks do you give me?
More griping and sass.

I have to admit —
Call the Argent Confessor —
My mind’s blown that blood elves
Can’t find a hairdresser.

It’s Silvermoon! Don’t you
Have gel by the jarful?
I’d figure you’ve got more
Salons there than Starbulls.

But cool down your jets, kid,
And calm your frustration;
I think your dear Warchief’s
Got your explanation.

You can’t find a stylist?
No free barber shop?
Well, as with most problems,
It starts at the top.

That Regent Lord guy of yours —
You know, What’s-His-Name —
I’ll bet you good money
That fucker’s to blame.

You can’t get your hair done
While salons are closed?
I bet he’s got them busy;
That’s why you’re all hosed.

Just check out the pansy-ass
’Do on that guy;
He can’t maintain that solo —
Much less with one eye.

That’s why your vain hunt’s
Yielding hardly a trace:
He needs teams round the clock
To keep that shit in place.

So go bitch to him, okay?
Go make his head spin.
Go bother someone with
Hair you can get in.

Don’t bug me with hair nonsense;
Hell, mine’s deplete —
You know grass doesn’t grow
On a damn busy street.

 

EPIC VERSE!

 

That does it for this time. Considering how many submissions I got this week, though, don’t be surprised if I treat you to a bonus installment sometime soon. As for those of you who HAVEN’T sent in your own composition… WHY THE HELL NOT?! Get off your lazy ass and get to it!

 

 

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

500header

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!