Monthly Archives: April 2015
Sibling rivalry (with an AA rhyme scheme)
It’s still Friday somewhere, right? Right…?
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
ILLIDAN STORMRAGE
VS.
MALFURION STORMRAGE
BEGIN!
MALFURION:
The horn has sounded, and I’ve come as promised
To confront at my calmest the storm that rages upon us;
I’ll take no joy in this, brother, and I’ll spare you the gallows,
But I’ll drop you down so hard you’ll find the Barrow Deeps shallow.
You were always a black sheep, but you took it deeper:
Betrayed our peeps to demons like you were some fel grim reaper.
I dreamt the dream of the sleeper; you daydreamed like a creeper:
Leering at your sister-in-law even without any peepers.
ILLIDAN:
You foolish furry, Furion, you know nought of what you’ve wrought,
For even my blind eyes can see what seeing eyes cannot.
Now I’m dropping verbal blades, and it’s time to end charades;
You portrayed me as Betrayer – nay, ’twas I who was betrayed!
Just the same, before you stand there spouting off “disloyal” slander,
Maybe you shouldn’t just stand there when a Horde raid stomps Tyrande.
And while you dozed, one never knows if I received a conjugal visit –
Oh yes, you’ll scoff…but it’s a thought you can’t simply dismiss, now is it?
MALFURION:
When you reached down in the well, you must have fished that witless jest.
Maiev may be naught without you, but without you, you are less.
You sold your soul to demons, now to all persona non grata;
You were once an epic hero – now you’re a warglaive piñata.
Rejected, hated, friendless; and remember, when you go
Brooding on your skull of Gul’dan: you know him not, Horatio.
Slither off now to your naga; take the loss here that you’re due –
But based on Arthas, I suppose you’ll think you won this battle, too.
ILLIDAN:
You were always quick to lecture with your arrogance arthurian;
Here, have seven vials of shut the fuck up and hush, Malfurion!
Sold out? I used the Legion for the power I’d inherit;
I may now be half demon, but you’re at least a quarter ferret.
Alas, your beard – and facial hair – don’t have anyone fooled.
Now I hope you’ve taken rhyming notes, for Sha’do’s getting schooled.
You’ve had enough? Now shift to fraidy-cat and run off scared,
For I declare, brother, in this battle you were not prepared.
WHO WON?
WHO’S NEXT?
YOU DECIDE!
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
[Next Friday…the Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge bonus-edition finale! (Who will it be? Who’s to say?! GET YOUR SUGGESTIONS IN EARLY! And…I promise… some overdue for-real for-real posts between then and now!]
More verbal sparring, of a feline nature
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
GARONA HALFORCEN
VS.
SHAYARI
BEGIN!
GARONA:
Help me out here, princess, ’cause I need some guidance,
For how an A-lister drew a fan-fic contrivance.
From the Horde to Alliance, they all know my defiance;
But your own dad didn’t even know you’re alive, and
Now you’re eye candy loading up a shopping bag,
But you couldn’t be the it girl in a game of tag.
So Garona’s answer when they ask what no-name she wrecked:
Half broken, half outcast makes one whole reject.
SHAYARI:
You can stealth, but your crazy never strikes without warning,
’Cause we all know you’re more maintenance than a Tuesday morning.
We’re both draenei and orc, but one thing can perplex me:
How’d you get the “deformed” while I got all the sexy?
Now I know that you’re jealous, but the green’s still okay –
But don’t you think you’re kind of old to rock those pigtails in gray?
You must have a goblin stylist, ’cause your look’s straight Ratchet;
Every pass you made at Garry, he declined to catch it.
Now my mom’s another story, but don’t be mad at me;
’Cause all the hashtag-LadiesLoveMyD-A-D.
So wake up and smell the kafa, ’cause it’s understood,
You’re getting creamed, sugar; I make half-and-half look good.
GARONA:
Go back to school, daddy’s girl, you’ve still got plenty to learn;
You need to spec out of frost, based on the heat of those burns.
Looking good’s all you’ve got – no tales or triumphs in stock;
You’d best walk a few steps before you try to talk.
’Cause as much as you squawk, it’s no position to mock
When your achievement panel hasn’t even been unlocked.
My accomplishments are legend, my prowess proclaimed;
No one outside of blog nerds even knows of your name.
I’ve fought in two wars, traveled dimensional warps;
The best that you can do is beating on a dead corpse.
I was Emissary to the Guardian of Karazhan;
You’re a mage who couldn’t cut it in Dalaran.
SHAYARI:
You’ve got history, granny, but let’s look at the tale,
Because a blank slate’s still better than a chalkboard of fail:
You turned on King Llane, brought Medivh to his end –
Too bad you can’t kill these rhymes the way you kill all your friends.
Gul’dan’s lackey, Cho’gall’s tool – just the record, not opinion;
Even at your most legendary, you’re someone’s minion.
So keep grinding out your legend, Ronie, I won’t linger,
’Cause my ring’s the Warchief I’ve got wrapped around my finger.
WHO WON?
WHO’S NEXT?
YOU DECIDE!
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
And, if we turn a blind eye to who’s still around canonically…
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
VAROK SAURFANG
VS.
THE LICH KING
BEGIN!
LICH KING:
I find the irony delightful and the arrogance sublime
For you to hope in my domain that you could wield the coldest rhymes.
You’ll learn the meaning of fear now, and the chill of the grave;
Not a soul is going to help you – they’re all trapped in my blade.
Every foe that I defeat is a new minion to employ;
You say you named him Dranosh – do you miss your little boy?
I kill fathers and sons; I’ve already slayed the Younger.
Now it’s dinner time, orc…and Frostmourne hungers.
SAURFANG:
You can save your strangulation, its rotation’s gonna switch,
For it seems that Varok Saurfang’s going to have to choke a lich.
Your runeblade has a name and people tremble while beholding;
You know why they fear my axe? It’s the one Saurfang is holding.
Sucking souls; your own: unneeded. Uther’s warning went unheeded.
You might once have been the heir, but you never once succeeded.
You’re the king of Frozen Thrones, but your chilling’s getting thawed,
’Cause I’m the one both factions turn to when they need to kill a god.
LICH KING:
<channeling a spell>
I’d stay to slay you, orc, but there’re things I need to do.
Falric! Marwyn! Bring me his corpse when you’re through.
[The Lich King summons Falric and Marwyn, then exits up a hallway.]
FALRIC:
By your order, my liege!
MARWYN:
This invader shall fall!
FALRIC:
Now your humble soldiers rise to meet their master’s call.
Your despair is so delicious and your fear exhilarating.
Your reputation might precede you, but it’s textbook overrating.
It’s two against one orc and even you can do the math:
Your fate will be no different – none are spared the master’s wrath.
MARWYN:
When the master ravaged Stratholme we were standing by his side,
And we saw the look Terenas made that moment as he died.
Your rhymes are weak as Silvermoon when master went attacking.
Now we’ve surveyed our enemy, and we have found him lacking.
SAURFANG:
I don’t waste my time on red-shirts but since Arthas had to leave,
Come at me, boys, in double file – now eat my verbal
CLEAVE.
While your king walks afar
You others cover and flock
To spar, but I’ll knock ajar
One and another and block – so far
Your knocks may shock on par
To smother and sock and scar
But your talk and mocks won’t mar
The brother of Broxigar.
You took all your best shots but every one of them missed;
You’re getting schooled, children –
[Saurfang cleaves both Falric and Marwyn’s heads off with one swing.]
Now class is dismissed.
[Saurfang heroic leaps into the next room, where the Lich King is holding Jaina Proudmoore and Sylvanas Windrunner at bay.]
You don’t get away that easy, no escape from pending loss;
I just took out the trash, so now you’d better be a boss.
Orc dictator, human traitor, “See you later,” what a “hero.”
So you run, “Now we are one,” but when I’m done, you will be zero.
LICH KING:
No questions stay unanswered; you’re the answer to my plans;
For clearly yours are verses greatest of the also-rans —
You know your place, I’ll grant you, rallied by your leader’s pennant:
Such a hero, such a legend, such a permanent lieutenant.
If ambition drove your mission, its commission might unnerve us,
But you’ve cleared the way, and now you’ll stay forever in my service:
Dead, deployed, to destroy, like your son with death to bring:
In the last, when you’ve passed, you will all serve the king.
WHO WON?
WHO’S NEXT?
YOU DECIDE!
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
Monday mailbag
You know what this is, you know how this works, let’s get right to it.
I heard that you really like bacon. ME TOO! Bacon is the greatest. It’s like candy, but it’s meat. I like meat. I want to try ALL the meat! I tried crocolisk yesterday for the first time and it was really good! It tastes a bit like pork, but more gamey. What’s your favorite meat that’s not bacon? Are there any animals you would like to eat but haven’t had a chance to try yet? Yay, meat!
–Suirohtal, Archdruid of People for the Eating of Tasty Animals
Holy shit, this guy is like Bizarro Lathorius! And also, gotta say, this PETA sounds like something I could totally get behind. So you know what? YAY MEAT INDEED, MY GOOD MAN. I think I like this archdruid a hell of a lot better than the other guy. Speaking of which, if you have an urge to send a giant kodo caravan to Orgrimmar carrying a vast assortment of meats, well, that would be super nifty and keen.
Can’t say I’ve had crocolisk, but if it reminds you of pork, it can’t be half bad. Naturally, nothing beats bacon, but there is no kind of pork that can steer you wrong. Or roasted boar. That’s some damn good eating, too. Basically if it’s a meat that comes from a porcine source, we’re good. Pork is pretty much the alpha meat. (You quillboar better take care not to get on my nerves too much.)
Talbuk and clefthoof are both pretty good, too, by the way. Clefthoof, I’ll have you know, makes for damn good stew meat especially. Keep that in mind next time there’s a cold winter night and you feel like getting big pot of something going over the fire.
Dammit, I’m making myself hungry.
Anyhow. I can’t think of any animals I’d like to eat that I haven’t. I’ve done a fair bit of hunting over the years, so I’ve eaten a lot of different meats. If anything, the thing I’d really like to eat more of would be vegetables. I can’t say I’ve made much of a habit of including them in my diet, and I think it would be pretty great if HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I THOUGHT I COULD GET THAT OUT CLEAN.
Anyway, though, thanks for writing, Suirohtal, and getting the mailbag off to a good start. This bodes well for a fun time this mailbag.
Firstly, my thanks for hearing my plea. I look forward to observing the Alliance reaping what they sowed when they killed my mate.
Secondly, to answer your question, yes, I am related to Shyrka Wolfrunner. You see, she is my cousin – the daughter of my father’s brother. Our family has a tradition of keeping and breeding wolves for mounted travel and combat – not as exciting as the Saurfang warrior line, I know, but one I am no less proud of. I’m told my father maintained the last wolf kennel on Draenor before it was destroyed, working for the Thunderlord Clan while the clans were ruled by Shadowmoon and the fallen Great Shaman, Ner’zhul.
For your wyvern’s new, ahem, ‘habits’, I have a solution. Such stains are easily removed using a solution made from ground-up Fadeleaf and Sungrass. Since the ingredients are found so far apart from each other, I enclose a sample in the flask attached to this letter. With any luck, Overlord Malkorok will no longer have to worry about stains on his boots. To prevent it from happening again, your guards should walk up and down. Animals will not do their business on moving objects.
Finally, if you’re interested, Warchief, I have a wolf you may wish to take for your Kor’kron mounted forces. He is the pride of his litter, one of two pups who are stronger, tougher and more agile than any of their siblings. Most of my wolves are sold to greenhorn adventurers, carrying them across Azeroth on their quests or into the fray in a battleground, but this wolf, Grimjaw, and his younger sister are being held in reserve for special occasions. The younger one, Blackfang, is for my son, a present for when he comes of age. Grimjaw was to be an anniversary present for Detanga, to replace her last wolf who died of old age some time ago, but as you know, that is now a moot point.
I was originally worried about what would happen to my wolvess if any of them were taken to the Kor’kron stables, but before I started writing this my daughter asked me, “Daddy, when will Mummy be coming home from her ‘expitition’?” because I hadn’t the heart to tell her, and nothing has ever hurt me so much as telling her that her mother will never come home, and seeing the tears well up in her eyes, and holding her and her brother to my chest while doing my best not to cry myself.
They deserve to have their mother hold them in her arms and tell them how proud she is of them. I can’t give them that, but if my wolves can bear your warriors into battle so that no more sons and daughters will grow up without a parent, I will have served my Horde well and given Detanga’s spirit cause to rest in peace.
Yours faithfully,
–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master
OH, FUCKING HELL, dude, how many times are you going to bring the damn room down?!
I mean. Um. Yeah, uh, still sorry for the loss of your wife, Ogunaro. And, I mean, that whole story about your wolves, and your daughter, and having to… um… explain what… erm… what happened… and… And hang on, um, I think it must be hayfever season or some shit, I need to… yeah, hold up, I need blow my nose. Or something.
…
AHRRM. OKAY. Fucking weird…there must be something in the air or something. Hrrmph. Ahem. Okay. OKAY.
So.
I appreciate the offer of the wolf, Ogunaro. I’ll be honored to take Grimjaw into the Kor’kron fold. Rest assured, considering what he means to you, he’ll be well taken care of, and as a mater of fact, I’ll make sure he’s groomed for a role of some importance. Now, mind you, I’m already good on mounts – everybody who reads the blog is familiar with Mortimer, obviously, but even on the wolf end of things, I’m covered what with me already having Malak. But… I think I have a job that would suit Grimjaw just fine. Stay tuned.
I know you answered my letter in the last mailbag, but that was a really long time ago. Like, longer than the wait between Winter’s Veil and Noblegarden! Anyway, I thought you’d like another update on my training! I still do the meat shield thing, and boy do things drop super fast when my shield meets their faces! I’m actually in Outland now! Can you believe it?! I even had enough gold to buy my own wyvern from the nice lady in Orgrimmar. I think his name is George. At least, he likes it when I call him that.
Me and George have been having all kinds of fun! We even met a nice zombie man who took us through some smelly dungeons full of red orcs and those snake people so I could learn how to warrior better! He was really cool for being a zombie.
Oh! I even met some brown orcs like you! They didn’t like me at first, but their shaman said she trusted me. Then I said you were my Warchief and they liked me! They even kept me safe from those big robots that roam around!
Anyway, I think this letter’s gone on long enough. Plus George is looking for his wyvern chow.
–Mirembe
PS: I had so many teeth from shield bashing that I made you a necklace to thank you. It has to be better than those silly charm bracelets you get every year!
Hey, Mirembe. Glad the training is coming along. Grats on the wyvern – trust me, you’ll love having one. It takes a little time for you to get used to each other, but once you do, you’ve got yourself a loyal companion for life. They DO seem to have some lame-ass names, though. Don’t know what to make of that.
Anyway, make sure you check in with me before you go back to what’s-her-face to upgrade your flying license and kick George up to the fast lane. I’ll see to it that they hook you up with the trainee discount. The discount being that they charge you with an I.O.U. that they have to come to me personally to collect, in whatever amount they feel comfortable coming to ask me for face-to-face, alone in a closed room, where I have Gorehowl hanging on the wall while I kick back in a chair carved out of a giant skull. Should save you a coin or two.
And hey, sounds like you’re getting in good with the Mag’har. Sweet! If you’re rolling around in Outland helping them out, you’re probably going to wind up in Nagrand before too long. Gotta admit I miss the place…it’s been too long since I’ve been around. When you get there, make sure you look up Greatmother Geyah. She pretty much raised me after my mom died. Sweet lady, definitely get in good with her, but, word of advice? When you talk to her, when she starts asking about your life, don’t volunteer any more information than you have to. Give her too many details to sink her teeth in, and trust me, she will try to greatmother you the fuck to DEATH. Still, tell her I said hi. Also, if you happen to see Jorin Deadeye while you’re out there, tell him I said fuck you. Dude’s a dick. Always gave me a hard time, when we were kids, about Grom being the one who doomed our people. Like HIS dad was any hot shit. Fucker.
And hey, thanks for the necklace. It actually kinda looks like the one I made myself years and years ago. See, it’s a tradition in the Warsong clan to make a necklace from bones or teeth from your earliest kills, carved with ceremonial runes. The teeth from this necklace weren’t from your FIRST kills, right? I wouldn’t want to take those from you – those should be yours. Otherwise, though, awesome. I appreciate the gesture, as long as it’s not stepping on ceremonial toes. Come to think of it, Mira, which clan are you from?
Can’tcha say somethin’ nice ’bout trolls, mon?
–Zim’bobwe, Sen’jinn Village
No.
Okay, okay, fine. Ben-Lin’s been on me to try to be more positive, so maybe if I scrape up something here it’ll shut her the fuck up for ten seconds about me being fucking negative like that shit’s any of her business in the first place. For fuck’s sake.
What was I saying? Oh. Yeah. Fucking trolls.
So, okay, fine. Something nice about trolls. And I’m even going to try not to be snarky and say something like “Well at least they’re mortal so I know they’ll die eventually.” Even though that’s totally true, and a definite plus. Where was I again? Fuck, I’m losing focus a lot today. Might have had too much kafa. Anyway.
So yeah. Something nice about trolls. So okay, here we go.
Those motherfuckers can dance. Like they’ve got moves like nobody’s business. Especially some of those troll girls, because…you know what? I don’t like trolls as a general rule, but…every so often, you have to entertain exceptions.
Yeah, yeah, fine, give me looks. Check ’em out sometime. NO JURY WOULD CONVICT ME.
After your recent (and highly illuminating) live blog, I decided to look into this Ask.fm site you’d mentioned. After entertaining a handful of questions though, something strange started happening. Some anonymous person or people seemed determined to keep asking me questions that weren’t really questions, just requests for “Pap of house,” “Pap of your room,” and maybe most distressing “Pap of feet.” I have no idea what they’re asking. You seem to be more familiar with internet customs than I am Warchief – what does this “pap” mean, and why is this person so interested in it? And what does it have to do with my feet??
–Disturbed In Durotar
Oh geez.
Welcome to the world of internet jackassery, DID. If this is your first encounter with it, congratulations on logging on to the internet for the first time ever this week.
So…the “PAP” thing. Yeah. I get this, too. So apparently, it’s an acronym, only I don’t really want to call it an acronym because “acronym” sounds like something that should be at least marginally smart rather than the soul-bleeding exhibition of stupid that almost invariably goes hand-in-hand with this little gem. But I guess it’s supposed to stand for “Post A Picture.” So the people you’ve heard from apparently want to see your house, your room, and your feet, and honest to fuck I couldn’t even take a guess at which of those you should be more fucking disturbed about. Maybe your feet. But I guess that might depend on how much cool stuff you’ve got at your house that these fuckers might try to break in and steal.
You know what? No. It’s the feet thing. Because seriously, internet freak shows, seriously.
Speaking of which, kind of. Like I said, I’ve gotten these “PAP” questions a lot, too. Like, relentlessly. And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one. And I know I’ve made this point on Ask.fm before, but on the off chance any of these PAP-spamming fucknoses are reading this now, I’d like to take a moment here to address them directly:
Good evening, wastes of life.
I can understand why you value efficiency. I get it. I really do. You people clearly have rich, busy lives, skulking around in your caves and musing over what it would be like if someone could invent some magical substance that would remove the stink from your assorted crevices with the mere addition of water. Maybe they could package the stuff in solid cakes small enough to hold in one hand. I’m just spitballing here.
Point is, you want to be time-efficient because you’ve got shit to do. You can’t burn up your whole afternoon search-and-pecking your way through whole words, because dammit, you’ve got business to tend to on the internet, and if you can’t cut a few corners on questions you’re voluntarily posting to people who don’t give a fuck about you, well then, that’s less time you can devote to running around posting other comments like, say:
Because then who the fuck is going to illustrate irony for people so they can understand what it is? Or maybe you need to get around to your blog reading so you can offer incisive commentary like:
Because FUCK THAT GUY, THAT’S WHY. FUCK HIM IN THE ASS WITH A PITCHFORK-MOUNTED JACKHAMMER. POINT BEING. You’ve got shit to do and you don’t have time to waste writing out whole words like “for” and “you” and “are,” and spirits fucking save us if you ever need to say “you are,” because now we’re getting into your/you’re territory and at that point holy shit ALL bets are fucking off.
So I get it. I do. You’ve got places to go (virtually) and people to meet (i.e., to yell at online with a raging bitterness despite never having met these people in reality) and you can’t have trivial things like keystrokes and complete words standing between you and your complete and utter worthlessness as a living being.
Here’s the thing.
And I can’t stress this enough.
YOU’RE NOT EVEN SAVING YOURSELF ANY FUCKING KEYSTROKES WITH THE FUCKING “PAP” THING. You can just type “pic” and ask the same damn thing, and still use the exact same number of letters. IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME, LOOK, WE’LL COUNT TOGETHER. ONE, TWO, THREE – the number of letters in “PAP.” ONE, TWO, THREE – the number of letters in “pic.” ONE, TWO, THREE – your total number of IQ points. SEE HOW IT ALL WORKS OUT? WERE YOU ABLE TO FOLLOW THAT DEMONSTRATION OR DO I NEED TO GET A FUCKING PURPLE SAN’LAYN PUPPET IN HERE TO TAKE YOU THROUGH IT AGAIN?
And hey, guess what, while you’re at it saying “pic” like a normal person who hasn’t been beaten in the head with a brick for six hours straight by everyone who’s ever lived plus six more guys, you also have the ADDED bonus of NOT reminding people of a fucking medical procedure that NO ONE HAS EVER HAD HAPPY ASSOCIATIONS WITH EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVER.
So listen – if you have “PAP” as part of your functional vocabulary, here’s what you need to do. Go get a chisel. Now grab onto the fucker real real tight – like imagine the chisel is your dick and you just found footage online of someone being really unhappy and you’re getting ready to jerk off to that shit, because FUCK YOU – and jam that chisel right up into your brain and shove it around until you’ve scraped all memory of this “PAP” shit right the fuck out of there forever. Okay? Stop it. Just stop it. “PAP” us no more “PAPs.” ENOUGH ALREADY. ENOUGH. KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF, AND I HOPE YOU DIE.
I’m glad we had this little talk.
More soon.
Next mailbag May 4! E-mail garrosh1337@gmail.com or submit your message below:
Meanwhile, on the Isle of Thunder…
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
LOR’THEMAR THERON
VS.
JAINA PROUDMOORE
BEGIN!
JAINA:
For years I was a dove but now that’s taken a dive;
Fool me once, then shame on you, but fool me twice, you won’t survive.
So I’ve gone on the offensive and I’m finished with forgiving;
You want to battle? Magic words are what I do for a living.
I’ve come a long way since I studied under Antonidas;
I’m still carrying the burdens of the Theramore detritus.
Now it seems you want to fight us; it’ll really just delight us,
’Cause I’ll crush your rhymes so hard you’re best off faking laryngitis.
Now I’ll throw my hands up, tear all my peace-mongering asunder, bring
My Kirin Tor contingent to the doorstep of the Thunder King.
Rhonin read an omen, so he passed me the baton;
Now I’ll purge you from this island like the Horde from Dalaran.
This won’t be pretty, pretty boy, so brace yourself, prepare,
Better cover up your eyes – oh, wait, you’re halfway there.
Don’t know who even sent you, not sure where we met or when,
But you kind of look familiar – tell me, what’s your name again?
LOR’THEMAR:
My name is—
JAINA:
What?
LOR’THEMAR:
My name is—
JAINA:
Who?
LOR’THEMAR:
I’m—
JAINA:
Johnny Awesome, maybe?
LOR’THEMAR:
<glares>
Okay, that’s it, I’ve had enough! That really does it – ladies!
[Scout Captain Elsia and Ellendra Palescorn appear behind Lor’themar.]
LOR’THEMAR:
You can talk a lot of trash, but the man that you’re not naming’s
Gonna serve you up your ass while his fans are all proclaiming that he’s
ELSIA and ELLENDRA:
Lor’themar!
LOR’THEMAR:
I don’t need an introduction,
ELSIA and ELLENDRA:
Lor’themar!
LOR’THEMAR:
Don’t need city reconstruction,
ELSIA and ELLENDRA:
Lor’themar!
LOR’THEMAR:
Don’t need Icecrown tissues;
I’ve got twice your regal majesty and half your daddy issues – I’m
ELSIA and ELLENDRA:
Lor’themar!
LOR’THEMAR:
Don’t need to lose my calm,
’Cause I’ll drop rhymes on you just like a mana bomb.
Until my ’Reavers are freed, don’t have to heed your screed
Or concede misdeed – know what else I don’t need?
ELSIA and ELLENDRA:
Lor’themar!
LOR’THEMAR:
Don’t need color care,
’Cause I don’t need blonde highlights in my blast-bleached hair, and
ELSIA and ELLENDRA:
Lor’themar!
LOR’THEMAR:
Don’t need dragon food,
’Cause I don’t need to go reptile when I’m in the mood.
ELSIA and ELLENDRA:
Lor’themar!
LOR’THEMAR:
Don’t need a back-up city!
I’ve got rhymes three times as vicious and a face that’s twice as pretty.
ELSIA and ELLENDRA:
Lor’themar!
LOR’THEMAR:
So keep your prophecy-of-Rhonin shit –
Don’t recognize my name? Neither do I – ’cause you’re not moanin’ it.
JAINA:
I tried my hand with humans, orcs, and elves but that was tragic;
After unbecoming slumming I traded up, Aspect of Magic.
So keep on trying fruitlessly to conjure up a scandal; it’s
No fault of mine a man’s got to be a dragon just to handle it.
I rose by acclamation to the leadership I shoulder;
As for you? You got defaulted – and you’re still just a placeholder.
You’ll always be a punch line, even more when seen in action:
You’re the seventh-string leader of a six-race faction.
LOR’THEMAR:
I took a broken people, rallied them to something greater;
You rose to rule two cities, and they’re both on maps as craters.
You’re the village epic mount, you’re a forty-man raid,
You 180’ed and betrayed your Mary Sue charade –
Because you always played the part of diplomat to the death:
Now you’re a real-life EO Lady Macbeth.
Now I’ll stop Allies on the one side, on the other stage a coup –
’Cause I even fight Horde Warchiefs better than you.
[Taran Zhu flies in on a cloud serpent and jumps in between them.]
TARAN ZHU:
ENOUGH! You’ve all been sparring since you set foot in this land,
And you’ve waged your endless race war, only I can’t understand
If you’re so hell-bent to kill each other with your sword and shield
Why it’s so damn vital that you make my home your battlefield!
There’s been nothing here but trouble since you Horde and Allies came,
And I’m tired of putting up with Lady J and what’s-his-name!
I’m sick of the division; I’ll take no side in this debate –
For I know you Sha-of-Haters are just going to Sha-of-Hate.
Each aggression draws reprisal, vengeance not for the fainthearted, it
Goes on and on in circles – I don’t care who fucking started it!
For years I’ve stood upon the wall to hold back mantid masses;
Now I’ll stand between you till you pull your heads out of your asses.
Awaking Shas of Anger, Hate, and Violence weren’t enough?
Then I’ll leave you with a cup of Sha of Shut the Fuck Up!
That’s it – I’ve wasted too much breath already on you two!
I must go! I’m out, bitches! There’s work I’ve got to do!
[Taran Zhu jumps onto his cloud serpent and flies off, leaving Jaina and Lor’themar staring quizzically.]
WHO WON?
WHO’S NEXT?
YOU DECIDE!
EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!
“Lady.” “Lord.”
Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge returns
Hello, all! Averry interjecting with a quick announcement that…well…I suppose Garrosh could have covered it himself, but he seems to have his hands full right now. It’s just easier this way.
Anyway! As those of you who’ve taken a cursory look at your calendar may have noticed, today is the first day of April. And as a smaller (but soon to increase!) subset of you are aware, April is National Poetry Month. Now granted, last year I dropped the ball when it came to commemorating the event in the person of one of everyone’s favorite Azerothian poets. (Yes, yes, mea culpa…or, you know, Garrosh culpa. He has a lot of culpa to go around, after all.) This year, though, I’m making sure there will be no such oversights. Besides, the blog has been sorely lacking in EPIC VERSE of late!
For this year’s poetry challenge, I’m dusting off a variety of EPIC VERSE that I slapped together (thanks to your feedback!) the last time Garrosh commemorated National Poetry Month — EPIC VERSE battles! As some of you might recall, ages ago when devilsaurs ruled the Earth, Garrosh unleashed an EPIC VERSE live blog upon an unsuspecting world, which ended up devolving into a rhyming battle between the Warchief and Varian Wrynn. (Because, you see, I actually have no original ideas.) I ended up revisiting the concept again shortly thereafter, and I’ve been wanting to revisit it since then. Well, folks, you’ve dodged that bullet long enough!
So, I’ll be posting a new EPIC VERSE battle EVERY FRIDAY in April — plus one bonus battle on Friday, May 1, because DON’T THINK FOR ONE MINUTE YOU’RE GOING TO GET OUT OF THAT WEEK SO EASILY. The pressure’s not just on me, though, because I’m going to need your help to make this idea work: just like the real Epic Rap Battles, the EPIC VERSE battles will rely on your ideas for matchups! I have a couple of ideas in the works based on suggestions from way back when, but in order to get through the month, I’ll be counting on all of you to offer up suggestions for matchups in your comments. Feel free to play fast and loose with your selections — while blog characters are, of course, welcome candidates, don’t be reluctant to offer up other lore figures who haven’t turned up in the blog in any significant way. Living, dead, retconned beyond recognition… anything goes!
So…start thinking of those ideas, comment away, and as always, thanks for reading and responding and making this whole exercise in lunacy far more fun than it ever should have been. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find a word that rhymes with orange.
Be seeing you,
Averry
