Tag Archives: garrosh’s poetry challenge

Splitting hairs

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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

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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!

 

Further poetic meditations on SUPREME IDIOCY

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Okay, people, as promised, it’s time for our first installment of GARROSH’S POETRY CHALLENGE: The Make You Lazy Fuckers Do Some of the Work For a Change Edition. Although we’re probably going to just go with “Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge” for short, because the full title is probably a little cumbersome to try to cram onto the cover when the paperback comes out. ANYWAY. Luckily, not ALL of you lazy fuckers in question were COMPLETELY lazy this time around (but let’s make no mistake, some of you were, and I HAVE MY EYE ON YOU NOW, YES I SURE DO, SPARKY), so we’ve got candidates for this first edition.

So today’s proud contributor, whole WHOLE LIFE WILL NO DOUBT BE GRANTED NEW MEANING by her recognition here, is @LibFeathers, a regular Twitter contributor… um… participant… follow… erm… I KNOW HER MOSTLY FROM TWITTER, OKAY? Go follow her and get the fuck off my back.

Anyhow, here’s Libby’s contribution:

 

When Garrosh took over the Horde
two orcs caused some major discord.
A sergeant and scout –
such nonsense they’d spout.
Their behavior he truly deplored.

Sergeant Dontrag was never without
his old buddy Utvoch, the scout.
They joked, goofed, and roared.
They could not be ignored.
So Garrosh whacked them both right on the snout.



Not fucking bad, if I do say so myself. Of course, if I DID say so myself, as in said the actual POEM myself, it would be at least 280% more EPIC, but that’s no criticism of her because let’s be real, you people aren’t expected to perform at my level.

So, speaking of performing at my level and saying so myself, hold on to your asses, bitches, because it’s my turn, PICKING RIGHT UP WHERE LIBBY LEFT OFF:


So Dontrag and Utvoch blabbed on,
Till Garrosh just wished they were gone.
He chugged down a gallon,
Sent them to Stonetalon;
They came back; the whacks were back on.

Alas, the whacking did no good!
(It’s amazing how much they withstood.)
Despite all the pain,
D&U grew no brains;
Possibly due to heads made of wood.

When Gurtash rode off on wolfback,
Garrosh gathered up D, U, & Tak,
Decreed that this group’ll
Keep tabs on his pupil,
Just in case he came under attack.

That plan proved clairvoyant because
Gurtash doesn’t fight well; Utvoch does.
As reward for that stunt
He made Utvoch a Grunt,
Despite not knowing which one he was.

Garrosh tried to fix that with a spell,
But it didn’t work out very well;
Full of fail so contagious,
So disadvantageous,
Even arcane enchants go to fel.

Garrosh can’t make them shut up or shoo,
So for now some good earplugs will do.
I’ll repeat this forever:
You know you can’t ever
Spell dumbass without D and U.



EPIC VERSE!



THERE YOU GO, motherfuckers. DEAL WITH IT.

So, as I said the other day, this is going to be a weekly feature for National Poetry Month, so get your own poetic compositions in and see if I decide to grace them with the Garrosh treatment. SAME EPIC TIME, SAME EPIC WEBSITE.



[Keep those lyrical masterpieces coming! All submissions received by next Monday (April 11) will be eligible for next Thursday’s installment of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge! Feel free to use the email link in the upper right sidebar, or, contact form incoming…]

 

 

Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge IV

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Okay, people, it’s that time of year — National Poetry Month — when yours truly regales the world by demonstrating yet again my mind-blowing, life-altering, pants-soiling talent in the field of dropping a killer rhyme. That can only mean one thing: a brand spanking new edition of GARROSH’S POETRY CHALLENGE, complete with brand spanking new EPIC VERSE, coming soon to a blog near you. Which is to say, THIS blog. BECAUSE WHAT OTHER BLOG WOULD YOU WASTE YOUR FUCKING TIME BEING NEAR?

This time around, I’m adding a new wrinkle to the challenge — and issuing a challenge to YOU, my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS, to step up and contribute to the cause as well. Because let’s face it, where EPIC VERSE is concerned, there are way too many GODDAMN FREELOADERS out there, so it’s about damn time you people GOT OFF YOUR LAZY ASSES AND EARNED YOUR DAMN KEEP.

SO. WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN IS—

HOLD UP.

HANG ON. I THINK THE FUCKING CAPS LOCK ON THIS THING IS BROKEN. FOR FUCK’S SAKE. LET ME GO GRAB SPAZZLE AND SEE IF HE CAN FIX IT. WHICH HE’D BETTER, BECAUSE OTHERWISE THE ONLY WAY I’M GOING TO BE ABLE TO EMPHASIZE MY POINTS IS WITH BOLD FACE OR ITALICS AND REALLY, THAT ON TOP OF ALL CAPS IS JUST FUCKNG OVERKILL.

SO OKAY. I’LL BE RIGHT BACK. SIT TIGHT AND DON’T GO ANYWHERE.

Okay, so now that that’s fixed, where was I? OH THAT’S RIGHT.

Hang on.

Testing.

Okay. We’re good.

CARRYING ON. So as I was saying, for THIS year’s poetry challenge, I’m going to put you people to work, because I figured, fuck, why should I be the only one who does something to honor the occasion?

So here’s the deal: Every Monday in April, you jokers are invited — read: REQUIRED — to cook up your very own EPIC VERSE in honor of National Poetry Month. (Or, you know, let’s face it, for most of you third-stringers, it’s probably something more like Uncommon Verse.) You can write about any topic you want, you can make it as long or as short as you want, you can bask in the magical glow of total creative freedom to your heart’s content. The only string attached is that it has to be an ORIGINAL poem — it can’t be something you’ve posted elsewhere, and OBVIOUSLY you can’t go steal someone ELSE’S poem, because there’s nothing more fucking pathetic than ripping off someone else’s intellectual property to make yourself look creative. (Cough.)

Submit your (ahem) masterpieces to me by the end of the day each Monday in April, either through email (link at the top of the right sidebar) or using the form at the bottom of this post.

Then, every Thursday, I’ll pick the best of the week’s submissions, put it up on the blog in a new post, and — most importantly, let’s be honest — offer my own EPIC VERSE response. Maybe I’ll write an original poem on the same topic. Maybe I’ll continue the story you started. Maybe I’ll take some facet of your poem as a jumping-off point. Maybe I’ll come up with something else entirely. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS. One way or another, though, I’ll write something that plays off of your original, and I’ll try to emulate the form you used for your poem (limerick, sonnet, whatever) while I’m at it. I’ll even try not to embarrass you by blowing you out of the water too badly, but no hard promises on that one, because really.

And hey, if I get more than one poem I really like submitted in a given week, maybe you’ll get a bonus post or two. WHO’S TO SAY? THERE’S YOUR INCENTIVE TO BE PROLIFIC, MOTHERFUCKERS.

And as an added incentive — as if being immortalized forever on the internet in indelible pixels wasn’t fucking enough — anyone who manages to overcome their own crippling mediocrity to actually IMPRESS me with a submission that goes above and beyond the call of duty gets to go home with a pet of their choosing, stolen right out from under the nose of Breanni the pet vendor. (Yes, I know she’s in Dalaran. Yes, I know my people aren’t exactly welcome there these days. I HAVE MY WAYS, OKAY?)

So, what the fuck are you waiting for? Get writing! YOUR WARCHIEF AWAITS YOUR LYRICAL ATTEMPTS AT ADEQUACY.

 

Submit your masterpiece! First deadline is Monday, April 4.

 

Sibling rivalry (with an AA rhyme scheme)

It’s still Friday somewhere, right? Right…?

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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!

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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

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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!

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EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!

 

And, if we turn a blind eye to who’s still around canonically…

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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!

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EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!

 

Meanwhile, on the Isle of Thunder…

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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!

lorvjprequest

EPIC VERSE BATTLES OF AZEROTH!

isleofthunder1

“Lady.” “Lord.”

 

Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge returns

quillandpaper

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

 

Again I ask…

books1

WHO WON?

 

And, maybe even more importantly…

WHO’S NEXT?

No, really.

Since the live blog seemed to go over pretty well, and we DO still have a couple weeks left of National Poetry Month, I may see about putting together another of these battles before all is said and done…provided you guys are able to keep playing muse and come up with some good matchups! So get commenting!