Tag Archives: goblin

This is the way the world ends


{Picking up from last time…}


Garrosh and Mokvar look around the room nervously while the goblin messenger slowly pulls himself up.

MALKOROK: <snickering at the goblin> Do you see, you simpering worm? Do you see what your failure brings you?

GOBLIN: <steadies himself, rubbing one shoulder in pain> I’m…I’m sorry, sir. I swear the crew is working tirelessly to correct the problem and have the galleon ready to embark as planned…

MALKOROK: <shoving the goblin from behind> See to it that they do, rodent! If you come to the Warchief bearing bad news again, rest assured you’ll have far worse than bruises to show for it!

MOKVAR: Hey, enough, leave the little guy alone.

MALKOROK: <sneers> Stay out of matters that are none of your concern, scribe. Assuming you’re capable of such a thing.

GARROSH: Malkorok, that’ll do. I think the courier gets the point.

MALKOROK: As you wish, Warchief.

GARROSH: <to the goblin> You have your answer. Go deliver it.

GOBLIN: Yes sir…

The goblin rushes out.

MALKOROK: I do not like having to rely on these sniveling—

GARROSH: Really not the day, Malkorok.

MALKOROK: If you insist. I still question the wisdom of your…predecessor choosing to bring these Bilgewater rats into the Horde.

MOKVAR: Yeah, well, I question the wisdom of wisdom of of era wisdom uoy of question suounet of erom eht of the won raised fo esnes ruoy in reworran eht tub front anosrep ruoy dilos of erom eht htdiwdnab ruoy my rekciht eht erutuf eht ni eyes dna tsap eht ni the llewd bringing the uoy bringing erom bringing eht bringing bringing the bringing the likes of you into the inner…oh…

Garrosh and Mokvar look around again, finding themselves at the entrance to the Drag. Horde troops rush around, fighting demons, while civilians continue to flock to the elevators.

GARROSH: <looking around frantically> Edwin – do you see Edwin anywhere?

MOKVAR: Nowhere I can see.

GARROSH: Goddammit…

MOKVAR: He was headed up to the Skyway, so hopefully he made it out…

GARROSH: Let’s hope. Well, we can keep an eye out, but either way, let’s make sure the others get out, too…


We ran through the Drag, past scores of demons being fought by Horde soldiers, weaving between heaps of bodies of demons and Horde alike. We helped the soldiers kill a few of the monsters as we made our way toward our main destination: the orphanage.

When we got there – and cut down a trio of shivarra on the way – we found Vol’jin had had the same idea, and was slaying demons as he cleared a path for himself from the opposite side. We converged at the door to the orphanage, and Vol’jin waved us inside while he squared himself to cover the entrance.

Mokvar and I ran in. There was no sign of Matron Battlewail anywhere, and the kids were half running around in a panic, half hiding behind or under anything they could find. We ushered them out as quickly as we could – I tried to look for Gurtash, but he wasn’t anywhere I could see – and as we came back outside, we found Vol’jin fending off a new batch of wrathguards being rallied by the doomguard Highlord Kruul.

I stepped in to help Vol’jin push Kruul back while Mokvar covered the orphans. In the chaos, I spotted Thathung and Wabang — reluctant grunts in the other world, auctioneers in this one — rushing past, and I broke away to flag them down. Mokvar herded the kids over closer while I told Thathung and Wabang to get them up to the zeppelin towers. I was so focused on getting the orphans taken care of that I didn’t even notice Kruul lunging in behind me with his sword poised.


VOL’JIN: Garrosh! Look out, mon!

Vol’jin dives at Garrosh, pushing him away – and taking Kruul’s blade through his back.

Garrosh pulls himself up as Vol’jin spills onto the ground next to him, and, roaring angrily, Garrosh launches himself at Kruul, slashing at him furiously with both axes. Kruul deflects the first several attacks, then starts to have trouble keeping up with Garrosh’s flurry of blows, until finally Garrosh chops off the demon’s hand at the wrist, leaving his sword to rattle away uselessly. With one more angry shout, Garrosh lashes at Kruul, tearing his axe across the demon’s head, slicing away its top half just below the eyes.

As Kruul falls lifeless to the ground, Garrosh spins around and runs back to Vol’jin.

GARROSH: Okay…okay, troll, now we just get you patched up, and…

Garrosh looks at Mokvar, who shakes his head.

Come on, he was just some pansy-ass demon, you’re not going out because of some punk like him, right?

Vol’jin cringes, then rolls to look up at Garrosh.

That’s right, there you go – unbreakable, right, troll?

VOL’JIN: <halting> Garrosh…mon…I seen…seen you… <seizes up and coughs, then grins faintly> Wish…wish I was invincible…den…he would never a seen me…mon…

Vol’jin lets out a breath, then goes limp on the ground.

The entire city shudders, and chunks of the upper level buckle. Pieces of stone and architecture break off and crumble. Dranosh rushes in from the Valley of Honor with a handful of soldiers.

DRANOSH: <shouting in all directions> Fall back to the zeppelins! All forces fall back!

GARROSH: Let me guess, it’s getting worse.

DRANOSH: The Scourge are getting through. The shamans managed to bring down some of the cliffsides as a barricade, but it’s just buying us some time… <looks down at Vol’jin> Is he…?

Garrosh nods.

This is a nightmare….

GARROSH: Nah, now we just sic the Scourge and Legion on each other and kill two birds.

DRANOSH: <smirks half-heartedly> Yeah, we’ve got them right where we want them now.

GARROSH: <scans around> You want me to help finish calling the evacuation?

DRANOSH: No…I’ll do it. I’m the Warchief, if anyone has to call the retreat…

GARROSH: We’ll hit the Valley of Wisdom and make sure it’s clear. Everyone else seems to be on their way.

DRANOSH: I’ll see you up at the airships.

GARROSH: If we’re late, don’t wait for us.

DRANOSH: Like I would.

GARROSH: Lok’tar ogar, Warchief.

DRANOSH: I don’t like those options today.

GARROSH: Be careful.

DRANOSH: And you.


We split up, and Mokvar and I made our way through the smoke and the fighting and the toppling buildings into the Valley of Wisdom. Most of the tauren had already cleared out. Mokvar and I made short work of some imps that were setting the teepees ablaze, then ushered the last of the tauren civilians up toward the Skyway.

Another tremor shook the walls of the valley, and large chunks of rock splintered off and came crashing down onto the tauren structures, crushing two of the buildings and sending the largest totem toppling to the ground. As the totem landed, I heard a pained, bestial shriek, and circled around to check.

Zhi-Zhi, that crazy-ass monkey-boy, was pinned under the fallen totem.


GARROSH: <rushing over and gripping the totem> Mokvar, give me a hand with this.

ZHI-ZHI: No! No, you go! No stay for Zhi-Zhi!

GARROSH: <struggling to move the totem> Don’t…ugh…don’t worry, Hairy Grammar Boy, we’re not…nngh…not staying for anyone, least of all your scrawny ass…uggghh…we’re just getting this off you and we’ll all be on our way.

Garrosh and Mokvar continue working on the totem, but it barely moves.

MOKVAR: Dammit, what did they carve this thing out of, lead?

GARROSH: It’s made of solidified inconvenience, just like every other damn thing in our lives right now…

ZHI-ZHI: No! You go! Listen, listen to Zhi-Zhi! Must go!

GARROSH: Nnnngh…don’t…don’t know what you’re so worried about me, Spanks. I thought you said I’m NOT “the one”…

ZHI-ZHI: Yes! No! Not the one! Yet!

Another tremor sends more stone crumbling down around the sides of the valley.

MOKVAR: Garrosh, hate to say this…

ZHI-ZHI: Must go! Go now!

GARROSH: You shut up, chimp, we’ll have this in just a second…

ZHI-ZHI: Listen! Listen to Zhi-Zhi! <stares up wide-eyed> You…have…a destiny!

MOKVAR: Garrosh…

GARROSH: We’re not fucking leaving him! He KNOWS something, Mokvar!

MOKVAR: So do we, Garrosh! And if we don’t make it out, it dies with us!

ZHI-ZHI: Go now! Please! Go for Zhi-Zhi!

Garrosh lets out a disgusted sigh and nods, then follows Mokvar out of the valley – looking back over his shoulder at Zhi-Zhi every few steps.


We had to fight our way through droves of felguards and terrorfiends to get to the elevator, but we finally managed to reach the Skyway. The last of the zeppelins was departing as we arrived, and Dranosh was standing by with Drok on the Windrunner. The entire Skyway was shaking as we got on board, and the gunship pulled away. As we passed over the city, we could see the Scourge starting to pour into the Valley of Honor. The rest of the city was swarming with demons. Every kind you could imagine.

We’ve been circling over Orgrimmar at a safe distance — or as close as you can get to safe, under the circumstances — for nearly an hour now, watching the demons and undead fighting in our streets and tearing down our buildings. Dranosh hasn’t had much to say. He’s just been standing at the edge of the ship, looking down, watching everything and nothing in particular.

We won’t know for sure how bad our losses are until the ships all reach their destinations and we have a chance to do a head count. Eitrigg went with the civilians to Thunder Bluff. Most of the military personnel are on their way to paying a surprise visit to Theramore.

Meanwhile, we stay here, circling around the clouds, waiting for Dranosh to come back from wherever he’s gone inside his head.


Monday, once again, Mailbag


Citizens of the Horde,

It is time once again for me to respond to the various and sundry missives that have found their way to me since last week. This time I seem to drawn the attention of some unlikely writers indeed…


Salutations and greetings under the Infinitely Holy Light, Varok Saurfang! It is my hope that, with the recent change in leadership in Orgrimmar, peace talks can at some point resume. I write to you regarding a terrible danger the seers of the Exodar have seen growing in the heart of the Horde. I speak not of the abominable Banshee Queen or the legions of unholy warlocks infesting your cities, but of a force very close to the center of the Horde – the (currently missing) Garrosh Hellscream. Have you seen him lately? Before he went missing, I mean. He looks rather terribly like a Fel Orc; I fear he has been suckling at the same festering hellteats from which his father supped. Please, if you know it, tell me the identity of the Pit Lord whose blood he has been drinking! The destruction of Hellscream’s demonic master will (once again) liberate the Horde from servitude in the Legion, to the great good of life throughout the Universe.

The Naaru have not forgotten you!

–Eliseth the Argent Champion, The Exodar, Azuremyst Isle

Firstly, having spent considerable time with Warchief Hellscream in Northrend, and being very much aware of his busy schedule since his move to Durotar, I can attest that no such transgressions have taken place as the drinking of demon blood. Moreover, good Eliseth, I am troubled by your willingness to jump to conclusions based solely on the Warchief’s appearance; his skin tone is well within the range of hues common to Mag’har orcs, particularly those who suffered from the red pox in their youth, and if your comment is in some way a reference to the Warchief’s (well-publicized) cranial idiosyncrasies, I believe Warchief Hellscream himself has addressed this matter on at least one occasion.

Rest assured, therefore, that there is no demonic influence at the heart of the Horde, and, by extension, you need not worry that the Burning Legion has set its eyes once again on Azeroth. Should the Legion indeed move against this world, you may further take comfort that we orcs will be ready to stand against them in defense of our home, and in so doing will almost certainly provide you and your eredar kin with ample time to pack. There are, I am sure, plenty of other worlds to which you might relocate while the rest of the “Universe” about which you clearly care so much undertakes to clean up after you.


Dear Warchief Saurfang,

Congratulations on your elevation to leadership of the Horde. I’m sure your peons are thrilled to have a competent commander grinding their faces into the mud of Durotar. I’m writing to inquire about a specific aspect of foreign policy instituted under the (hopefully) late and unlamented Warchief Hellscream (may his body never be found); specifically, his declaration that “all Kalimdor belongs to the Horde”. This claim is idiotic, unenforceable, and will serve only to utterly repudiate any overtures of peace you may wish to make. I advise you to rescind this edict, and withdraw back past the Southfury where you belong. Or preferably, all the way back to Draenor. Get off our planet, alien scum!


–Sepharad of the Nightfall
Darnassus, Teldrassil
Kalimdor (seriously, it belongs to the Kaldorei)
Azeroth (not your homeworld)

Greetings, Sepharad. If you will indulge my pedantry for a moment, I would like to elucidate a few linguistic and rhetorical points that you may find beneficial in future endeavors.

Specifically, there is a concept in argument generally referred to as “ethical appeal.” This notion, contrary to what might be suggested by its nomenclature, does not hinge on one’s “ethical” or moral goodness, but rather on the manifest ethos, or identity, which one presents in one’s interactions. Thus, for instance, one who presents oneself as gracious and even-handed is likely to prove more persuasive than one who conveys a persona of rudeness and closed-mindedness, by virtue of their relative ethical appeal.

With this in mind, I might suggest in future missives, should you wish to urge policy change from your reader, you may do well not to open, for instance, by insinuating derision for your reader’s entire society and its adopted home; or by openly hoping for the demise of individuals about whose safety you know your readers to be sincerely concerned; or by levying thinly veiled threats, employing racial slurs, or expressing outright hostility toward your audience. (I would also note, if you truly take such offense at “alien scum” taking up residence on other worlds, you may wish to craft an additional letter to Prophet Velen of your allies the draenei, as his people, if we are to carry out a cursory review of history, have developed something of a pattern of behavior along these lines.)

These are basic concepts of rhetoric, and it saddens me that such an ancient and storied culture as that of the night elves would apparently fail to properly educate its watchers. Lacking a compelling argument in its support, therefore, I feel I must decline your policy recommendation.

[If at first you don’t succeed, you clearly aren’t Saurfang. –Mkvr., ed.]

With that said, if you will pardon me, a chill has begun to drift into the room, so I believe I shall go now to add a log or two of Ashenvale lumber to the fireplace.


Hiya Overlord Saurfang,

What’s up? Even though we goblins in Ratchet try to keep ourselves neutral to this whole Horde/Alliance thing, I do try to keep an eye on what’s going on in the major cities – especially since I have a few cousins in the Bilgewater Cartel living with you guys in Orgrimmar now. I noticed your post the other day about Garrosh’s wyvern getting loose, and I thought you’d be want to know about a weird moment we had here on the docks yesterday. I was hanging around here on the dock, minding my own business, when lo and behold a wyvern flies in and lands just a few yards away, and just sits around by the end of the dock. He wasn’t doing anything, not really even taking notice of anyone, just sitting there. The after a while, one of our ships came in from Booty Bay. The wyvern up and strolled onto the boat, sat himself back down, and just stayed there until the ship headed back out again.

Now, I don’t know if this was Garrosh’s wyvern. I don’t know what his wyvern looks like, other than, you know, looking like a wyvern, and I can’t say I could really tell one wyvern from another anyway. But I thought you might want to know about this.

–Wharfmaster Dizzywig, Ratchet

My thanks to you, Wharfmaster. This is interesting news indeed. While we cannot be certain that the wyvern you describe is the Warchief’s, its behavior certainly appears peculiar enough to merit investigation. I will notify our officers in Stranglethorn Vale of this development, and expand our scouting patrols to that region.


Greetings, Your Warchieferousness! I hope you’re having an absolutely splendid day. I am not having an absolutely splendid day because I keep bumping my head on the doorways here in the goblin slums. I may be the cutest undead killing machine ever to rise from the battlefields of the Third War, but terrible necromantic power has no effect on goblin architecture. Could you possibly see your way clear to annulling former acting Warchief Hellscream’s edict that all races “not strong enough” to defend Orgrimmar (anyone not a tauren or orc, in Hellscream’s piggy little eyes) be banished from the city? I am an implacable harbinger of icy death, and I’m worth at least two tauren anywhere outside a goblin barbeque. I know no fear! I know no pain! I am totally strong enough to defend Orgrimmar. I want my house back.


–Twilight Vanquisher Aimee (Knight of the Ebon Blade, not the cake vendor), Frickin’ Goblin Slums

A pity, Aimee, that you aren’t the Aimee I recall from Northrend. Many were the evenings that I enjoyed one of her selections with my nightly Mok’nathal tea. I recall her red velvet cake was especially sumptuous. You might consider, in fact, looking into baking as a sideline, as I am sure you will find a great many fans should you demonstrate mastery in it; moreover, we find ourselves recently understaffed in Orgrimmar in the area of infantry cooks, so you may well find it a worthwhile avenue for career advancement.

Speaking of which, in a roundabout way, as you are a current resident of the goblin slums, how is the rice situation coming along? Markedly improved, I would hope.

At any rate, I realize that you are not the Aimee of cakery fame, though, again, I would urge you to consider my thoughts on the matter. Still, you certainly share a name of delicious connotation. (Have you considered adopting a pseudonym for combat purposes, incidentally? Though I do not doubt your martial prowess, I am unsure that “Aimee” strikes adequate fear into the hearts of your foes. Compare: “Run! Saurfang just cleaved the heads off of the general and his squire!” “Run! Aimee is accessorizing her Lovely Pink Dress!”)

Where were we again? You will pardon an old man for his tangents. Ah yes, the goblin slums.

Redistricting is indeed always a controversial issue, Aimee. I will endeavor to look into the matter, though the allocation of housing space in a high-demand, high-population area such as Orgrimmar is always precarious at best. In the interim, have you considered investigating real estate options in nearby Razor Hill? I am told suburban areas within easy commuting distance of the major urban centers often offer surprisingly reasonable rental costs. (I would suggest Bilgewater Harbor as another nearby option, but I believe you have clearly established your feelings on goblin neighborhoods.) Or, if you feel your happiness truly depends on residing in the city proper, perhaps the troll architecture of a few blocks north of you would be more suitable?

I will grant I am hardly a real estate expert – many years have passed since I paid off my mortgage on the old Nagrand split-level, and being as I am career military, I have myself always moved from one assigned quarters to the next – but I will attempt to look into matters further to see if anything can be done.


That is all the mail I have time to attend to his week; as always I thank you for your correspondence. I will, of course, continue to keep you posted on our unfolding operations, friends. Honor go with us all.




Awesome job, Mokvar


Well, Garona took her sweet time getting here, which shouldn’t really surprise me, to be honest. Yeah, sure, you’ll be there at the time we set to meet. And you’ll be ready to go out in just ten minutes, right? Same deal. Women.

While I was waiting, I sent word to Orgrimmar to have Mokvar come out to help with the recordkeeping. I figure with everything going on, I’ll want to keep a detailed account of all the information we collect, and so it just makes sense to keep my own in-house scribe around. It’s either that or take time out to write everything down myself, and let’s face it, my time is going to be better spent thinking great thoughts. Plus, let’s be honest, my handwriting is crap. Even by Mokvar standards.

Since Mokvar’s going to be transcribing a lot of stuff – notes, maps, details from our investigations, etc. – I’ve had Spazzle set him up to be able to edit these posts to add in any write-ups he thinks would be useful to add to the record here. Plus this way it spares me having to make sense of his godawful handwriting and take the time to transcribe it myself. (Just as long as he just inserts his stuff. I warned him that if he tries monkeying around with my actual writing, I’ll fucking hand his ass over to Draz’Zilb for whatever scary-ass voodoo experiments he might want to pull on him. And yes, I’m fucking territorial about my intellectual property.)

Anyway, though, she finally did show up, and we set up shop in the tavern of the inn to go over what we’ve found. She couldn’t find any traces of the phylactery itself, and she says the Maul is still a pretty big mess from when Cho’gall had held his ogre gathering. Turns out, though, she also had a run-in with some Twilights while she was there, and found them as easy to persuade as I did. Their story more or less matched mine: the ogre Skarr had been heading up their search around Dire Maul, but recently headed to the southern part of Feralas to set up camp. He left some of the other Twilight agents to keep looking for anything they could find around the Maul, with orders to check in with him. They didn’t have details on exactly where to find him, or else Garona was going to go pay him a visit herself – apparently Skarr just told them to go to the Lower Wilds, and he would find them if he needed them, whatever that means. Oh and here’s the best part – right when she was about to polish them off, some Grimtotem raiders showed up, fighting a bunch of the Gordunni ogres…so just as the bunch of them were almost on top of her and the Twilights, she just up and POOF-vanished, and left the whole gang of them to have at each other.

So, next up, we’re going to go searching for Skarr. We’ll split up on the way, since we don’t really know what he’s going to have there as far as backup. Garona’s going to stealth her way through the woods and see if she can do some spying on the way. (I offered her a camel she could take for the trip, but I guess she preferred to go by foot…) Meanwhile I’ll be doing a flyover to see what I can find, and then, you know, probably wind up taking the direct approach while she’s doing her snooping.

There were a lot of little odds and ends that the two of us had to update each other on, and some what-ifs to plan for for the next few days, so we ended up spending a while there in the tavern. Credit where it’s due, those goblins have some pretty good cooks on payroll. While we were there, we also had a run-in with this blood elf guy who was just kind of wandering back and forth from the bar, babbling on about his dead pony or something, but the less said about him the better.


GARROSH: Hold up. Have you noticed the blood elf guy who keeps looking over this way?

GARONA: Every few minutes. He keeps looking at us, then looking away when one of us looks back.

GARROSH: Think he’s a spy or something?

GARONA: Not likely. The Grimtotem wouldn’t trust an outsider, so they wouldn’t bring in a blood elf to spy for them. The Twilight’s Hammer would get someone who was competent enough not to just sit out in the open staring at his quarry. So who else? The Alliance? Some from column A, some from column B, no-go there.

GARROSH: Can you tell if he’s watching one of us in particular?

GARONA: I’m not sure. Do you think he’s looking at me?

GARROSH: I don’t know, that’s why I asked.

GARONA: Ugh, I hope he’s not going to come over to try to pick me up.

GARROSH: Why would you think he’s going to…oh never mind.

GARONA: Why? You don’t think he would? It’s not like I don’t ever have men stare at me in bars, you know.

GARROSH: Yeah, no, I’m sure they do.

GARONA: You sound like you don’t believe me!

GARROSH: I didn’t say that!

GARONA: I’ll have you know I get hit on all the damn time!

GARROSH: I’m not arguing with you, dammit!

GARONA: Just because I have a grown son doesn’t mean I’m some old lady, you know!

GARROSH: Oh for fuck’s sake, can we not go through another whole song and dance about your kid?

GARONA: Oh, sure, who wants some old worn-out orc who’s already pumped out a kid, is that it?  You men are all alike.

GARROSH: When the fuck did I even say anything? I’ve got no problem with you having a kid, go ahead, have your kid, have more kids, have a whole barn of them, I don’t give a shit!

GARONA: Well you sure made it sound like some wrinkled old matron like me certainly couldn’t be catching the eye of some spry young elf in a bar.

GARROSH: I didn’t say any such damn thing! Fuck! Look, hell, there’s a REASON why the term “MILF” got coined in the first place, okay?

GARONA: So you think I’m pretty?



GARROSH: I’m thinking.

GARONA: What do you mean, you’re thinking? What’s there to think about? Either you think I’m pretty or you don’t! You know, if you have to THINK about it—

GARROSH: I’m trying to think of what answer is LEAST likely to get me stabbed in my sleep later on.

GARONA: And what makes you think I’m going to be nearby when you’re asleep in your bed?

GARROSH: <facepalm>

GARONA: Because honey, don’t flatter yourself.



GARROSH: Lady, you are one great big can of crazy, you know that?

GARONA: What’s THAT supposed to mean?

GARROSH: Can we PLEASE get back to the guy who’s watching us, or the Grimtotem thing, or maybe even just beat my head in with a brick because even that would be less excruciating than what we’re doing now?

GARONA: You know, there are a lot of men who’d be thrilled to be talking with me over a few flagons.

GARROSH: Oh for FUCK’S sake!

GARONA: I’m just saying. Lots and lots. You have no idea.

GARROSH: Could you maybe call them all over here to beat me in the head until I lose all memory of this conversation?

GARONA: Fine, BE that way.


GARONA: You think he’s looking at me?

GARROSH: I hope the hell he is. Maybe he can sweep you away and give me the glorious treat of your absence.

GARONA: Well now you’re just being passive-aggressive.

GARROSH: It’s a goddamn good thing for you that you’re genuinely good in a fight, that’s all I’m going to say.

GARONA: I’m just trying to help you. You know you’re never going to find a girl if you keep up with this attitude.

GARROSH: Tell me something, when you assassinated Llane, did you actually have to kill him? Or did you just strike up a conversation with him and keep talking until he threw himself on your daggers?

GARONA: He wouldn’t have been the first man to throw himself at me, I’ll tell you that much right now.

GARROSH: THE ELF, for fuck’s sake, THE FUCKING ELF, before I squeeze my head down another hat size trying to cover my ears again!

GARONA: Fine, then!

The blood elf, by this point, has wandered over closer to the table.

BLOOD ELF: Um, excuse me?

GARROSH: Oh thank goodness.

BLOOD ELF: Am I interrupting something?

GARROSH: Yes, you are, and spirits bless you for it. Can I buy you a drink? A round of drinks? And an epic mount of your choosing?

BLOOD ELF: Oh…no, no, you see, my pony only just recently…passed… <sniffle> It’s just too soon. Plus…um…well, I mean, it’s a flattering offer, but I don’t…you know…swing that way, so…

GARROSH: Well hold on, I didn’t…

GARONA:  <eyes widen> Ohhh, wait a minute, NOW it’s making more sense…

GARROSH: Plus you’re a male blood elf, what do you mean you…oh never mind.

BLOOD ELF: What does that mean?

GARONA: I’m so, so sorry. I should have realized.

GARROSH: Will you SHUT IT? That’s not what I fucking meant.

GARONA: No WONDER you’re so angry all the time.


GARONA: Mmhmm.

GARROSH: Look, can we drop the… <looks to Mokvar> Are you seriously writing all that down?

MOKVAR: Well, um, yes, sir. You said I should keep a record of everything.

GARROSH: <blink> I…just… Wow.

MOKVAR: Begging your pardon, sir, you did say we need to keep everything written down in case some easily overlooked details end up being important later.

GARROSH: You win, Thrall. Oh, man, you really, really win. Good one, dude. Hats off to you. You win.

GARONA: Now see, THRALL found himself a nice girl, and see what he did?


MOKVAR: Sounds like marriage to me, sir.

GARROSH: Heh, yeah, amen, Mokvar.

GARONA: Mmhmm. Interesting.

BLOOD ELF: Should I just…leave…?

GARROSH: For the love of the spirits, NO.

BLOOD ELF: It’s just that, well, I couldn’t help but notice…

GARONA: You see! He was looking at me!

GARROSH: <looks to elf> Run now.

BLOOD ELF: Well no, I was looking at her.


BLOOD ELF: I was looking at both of you, actually.

GARONA: You…wait, what?

GARROSH: I think what he means—

GARONA: Oh no, no, sweetie, I… No, I don’t do those anymore.

GARROSH: <rubbing head> I seriously don’t know if I want to stop the Twilight’s Hammer from destroying the world anymore.

BLOOD ELF: I’m…confused.

GARROSH: Give her a few minutes. It gets worse.

GARONA: But I’m not sure why you’d be interested in getting Garrosh involved, if you say you don’t—

BLOOD ELF: So you ARE Garrosh! Garrosh Hellscream? The Warchief?

GARROSH: Yeah, that’s me. What of it? And please elaborate at length if it stops her from chiming in for a while.

BLOOD ELF: And so you must be Garona Halforcen?

GARROSH: Oh good, kick it over to her right away. Well played.

GARONA: That’s me, yes.

BLOOD ELF: <beaming> Oh wow, I can’t believe I’m really getting to meet you! This really is an honor for me!

GARROSH: Uh oh. Fanboy alert.

BLOOD ELF: And, if I say so myself, for it to be an honor for me really is quite the honor for YOU, too. It’s not just anyone who can impress me right off like that.



BLOOD ELF: You see, I’ve been making quite a name for myself within the Horde as well. I’ll have you know, I was an exalted hero of Tranquillien within a few mere hours of arriving at the place!

GARROSH: Wait, Tranq-what-now?

BLOOD ELF: And granted, I really haven’t had occasion to drop by Orgrimmar to meet you in person, Warchief, but I’m sure tales of my adventures have made their way all the way to your war room.

GARROSH: Um, maybe? Oh…OH, so wait, you’re one of those…yeah, one of the… up-and-coming adventurers that we send off of various missions in the outlying zones… Right…

GARONA: I thought you said those quests weren’t really all that—

GARROSH: Ix-nay on the usywork-bay.

GARONA: Oh. Right.

GARROSH: Anyway, um, so yeah, maybe I’ve seen reports on your…exploits… Um, what was your name again?

BLOOD ELF: I…am Johnny Awesome.

[The Blood Elf will henceforth be referenced as Johnny Awesome, because really, this is just too good. –Mkvr., ed.]

GARROSH: No, I can’t say I – wait, that’s your name?


GARROSH: No, I mean, it’s your real name? Not like an alias you made up for yourself?

JOHNNY AWESOME: No, it’s my name.

GARROSH: Your parents are Mr. and Mrs. Awesome.

JOHNNY AWESOME: It’s an old Highborn name. It goes back thousands of years.

GARROSH: Uh huh.

GARONA: It’s a wonder things didn’t work out better for Azshara if she had the Awesomes working for her.

GARROSH: <chortle>

JOHNNY AWESOME: It’s…it’s true.

GARROSH: I’m sure it is.

GARONA: If only she could have had her field troops led by Jimmy Omgipwnedurface.

GARROSH: <snicker> Haha, you know, I think I know a guy on Earth Online who uses that name.

GARONA: Oh wow, you play Earth Online too?

GARROSH: Yeah. You play? What server?

GARONA: Palin, Kalimdor region. You?

GARROSH: Goldwater-Kalimdor. Hah, that’s awesome.

GARONA: Med’an got me started on it. I really only started playing originally just to check in on what he was doing. You know how it is with the internet.

GARROSH: Yeah, yeah, that makes sense. Can’t be too careful.

GARONA: Although I have to admit it’s really starting to annoy me that they broke the mature language filter so you can’t keep it turned off now!

GARROSH: Oh I KNOW, right? That’s !@#$ing ANNOYING.

GARONA: I mean I’m an ADULT, if I want to talk like one I should be able to.

GARROSH: What do you think of the expansion? Have you seen much about it?

GARONA: I don’t know. I’m cautiously optimistic.

GARROSH: Oh come on. Australians? They’re seriously making a whole expansion about Australians?

GARONA: Well you know, to be fair, it’s not like they’ve never taken a joke and used it seriously before. People forget that Canada was originally a running gag too, and look how well they integrated that.

GARROSH: Yeah, I suppose…

JOHNNY AWESOME: I…have no idea what you two are talking about.

GARROSH: Online gaming.

JOHNNY AWESOME: You actually do that?

GARONA: Is that a problem?

JOHNNY AWESOME: It’s just…I guess I just sort of figured you guys would be…a little cooler than that.

GARROSH: Excuse me, do you really want to get into a coolness pissing contest with us?

JOHNNY AWESOME: Well I just mean…

GARROSH: Do you really want to? Because if you want to go, we can go.

JOHNNY AWESOME: Well no, it’s just that…I mean, come on, an MMO?

GARROSH: So let’s see, commanded fifteen Kor’kron legions on a military campaign across the arctic wastes culminating in the death of the fucking Lich King. Shall we start there?

GARONA: Single-handedly assassinated the king of Stormwind?

GARROSH: Also a good one.

JOHNNY AWESOME: Look, I’m not trying to—

GARROSH: Son of the slayer of Mannoroth.

GARONA: Mother of the new Guardian of Tirisfal.

GARROSH: Crash landed an airship in Twilight Highlands and walked away without a scratch.

GARONA: Killed Cho’gall. The first time.

GARROSH: Dueled Thrall to a standstill.

GARONA: Fucked Medivh.

JOHNNY AWESOME: Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!

GARROSH: That’s better. So anyway, was there a point to all this?

JOHNNY AWESOME: Oh… Well, I guess I was just wondering if I could have your autographs.

GARROSH: Our…autographs.

GARONA: I don’t know, would you really want the autographs of a couple of lame online gamers?

JOHNNY AWESOME: I know, look, I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re both heroes of the Horde, and…you know…that’s what I’m aspiring to, too, so…

GARROSH: Okay, okay, fine… <scribbles on paper>

JOHNNY AWESOME: Well, and I guess I was also wondering, since I like to think I’m a rising star in the Horde, really one of your secret weapons when you come right down to it, even if I guess you haven’t heard of me yet, which really doesn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense, but whatever, but I was just thinking—

GARROSH: Get to the point, please, Tirion.

JOHNNY AWESOME: Well, I was just wondering if you had any missions you might need me to carry out for you.

GARROSH: Missions.

JOHNNY AWESOME: I mean I know there are lots of people scattered around Horde settlements who need help with different things, and don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to help out where I can, but it just seems to me that my talents could be better used by, you know, performing key duties on behalf of the Warchief.

GARROSH: Uh huh.

JOHNNY AWESOME: So…are there any missions you need carried out? Or places you feel I could be of particular help?

GARROSH: Um…okay…

GARONA: Time to get into character.

GARROSH: Yeah. <deep breath> Lok’tar, noble blood elf, tales of your valiant deeds have carried even to Orgrimmar—

JOHNNY AWESOME: Wait, didn’t you just say you haven’t heard—

GARROSH: Just fucking roll with it, okay, dude? Seriously.

JOHNNY AWESOME: Okay. Yes, sir.

GARROSH: Tales of your valiant deeds have carried even to Orgrimmar, and rest assured they have not escaped the notice of your Warchief. If you wish to truly serve the Horde, your considerable powers could be used in Thousand Needles, or, um, Tanaris. The choice is yours. Remember, Hellscream’s eyes are always upon you!

JOHNNY AWESOME: Yes sir! I won’t let you down, sir!

Johnny Awesome races off, never, one can only hope, to be heard from again.

GARROSH: I really fucking hate my job sometimes.

GARONA: Wait, Thousand Needles and Tanaris?

GARROSH: Yeah, what of it?

GARONA: Well…he didn’t look like he’s been doing this for very long. Aren’t those areas pretty dangerous these days?

GARROSH: Yes, and?

GARONA: Isn’t he going to go out there and get eviscerated?

GARROSH: Yes, and?


Wait, so hold on. I had a five-hour strategy session with Garona, and THIS is what Mokvar decided was important enough to post up here? Seriously? THIS is what made the cut?

Either way, though, gotta say again, it’s DAMN impressive that he’s able to get all this stuff transcribed like that. Really, really impressive.

Now pardon me while I go find him and smack him around a little.



[Header image provided by regular reader and commenter ZugZug, used here with permission and many thanks.]


Cool things about being Warchief


I recently had someone suggest that I maybe complain about things too much. While I personally think this is a gigantic steaming pile of horseshit, I thought I might try making a point of looking at the positive side of things. So here’s a list of some of my favorite things about being Warchief:

  • You know when you’re running up to the zeppelin tower and you can see the zeppelin is there, and you figure there’s no way you’re going to make it in time but you run up the tower as fast as you can anyway, and against all odds it’s still there when you get to the top of the ramp, only in the time it takes you to get from the stairwell to the end of the landing platform the zeppelin it taking off and gets JUST far enough away that you can’t quite jump on? Yeah, well, that still happens. But when the zeppelin comes back again, you can have the pilot executed.
  • When somebody pays the goblin dude on your tundra mammoth for repairs, you get a cut. A big cut, if Greeny McEasilykilled knows what’s good for him.
  • Even though people seem to be trying to poison you with alarming regularity, you have food tasters to make sure everything you eat is okay. As an extra bonus, you can hand-pick which Alliance prisoners these food tasters are going to be. (I usually pick a gnome if possible. They turn the funniest shade of green just before they croak.) Most of the time, they’re so damn hungry and overjoyed to be getting anything to eat at all, they never even stop to think that anything is up. The looks on their faces – the “Oh SHIT, why the fuck didn’t I THINK of this?!” look – in that moment between the poison kicking in and when they drop dead? Awesome. Totally worth the price of knowing that there are unknown parties trying to kill you who apparently have access to your food.
  • According to tauren tribal custom, anytime someone in the Valley of Wisdom bakes a pie, you get the first piece.
  • When somebody says, “You’re no Thrall,” you can totally reply, “You’re right, Thrall would never just up and chop off somebody’s foot like that. Oh, I’m sorry, did I break your concentration? Pardon me. Please, let’s resume our critique of my job performance.”
  • Due to a little-known technicality, the furbolgs of Timbermaw Hold recognize you as an Archbishop.
  • If somebody, say, kills your dad, you can carve the dude’s remains into a throne and set it up in your war room. Think about that. Every time somebody comes to see you, you’re kicking back sitting on a chair made out of the FUCKING SKULL OF THE LAST GUY THAT REALLY PISSED YOU OFF.
  • Bearer of the ultimate suck-on-it trump card at class reunions.
  • Two words: Kor’kron strippers.
  • As a point of honor, Varian has to welcome into his throne room any diplomatic emissaries you decide to send to Stormwind. This might not sound so cool, but it gets real awesome real fast when you make the emissaries eat nothing but beans and asparagus for three days leading up to the visit.

Spazzle Speaks


What’s up?

Hi all, this is Spazzle again guest-posting for the Warchief. As a lot of you might have guessed from his posts this past week, Garrosh has had a trying few days, and he’s not in much of a mood to blog right now. As a matter of fact, he’s been keeping himself holed up in his private war room in Grommash Hold. For right now, I figured I’d make a quick post on his behalf to let you all know that he’s probably not feeling up to answering his mail as usual today. But he has been reading your messages, and I’m sure he’ll get to them soon, so please do keep them coming. If anything, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the interaction and support of his citizens after the week he’s had.

Speaking of which, I’m sure some of you are wondering what ended up happening at Cliffwalker Post the other day. As it turns out, I was about to cast a glamour spell to summon up a vision of the events there from the point of view of a Horde adventurer who also happened to be on the scene, and then, through the wonders of goblin engineering (Bilgewater pride!), digitize it to post here for you all. See, one more of the 101 cool things you can do with a Samophlange that I bet you didn’t know! Anyway, here’s what ended up going down:

So you can probably see why the Warchief wants to be alone with his thoughts and clear his head a little right now. Hopefully he’ll be out again and back to his…um…usual cheery self.

While I’m posting here, I’m also making some long-overdue updates to the blog. By the time you read this (or shortly thereafter), I should have a blogroll added with links to many of the other great blogs out there. If you’re a regular reader of the Command Board and have a blog that I’ve missed (or know of one that the Warchief and I should check out), please send us a note (garrosh1337@gmail.com) or add a comment here. I’ll try to be better about updating the site, and hopefully Garrosh will be better about not kicking me.

This week I also went ahead and got Garrosh set up with his very own Facebook and Twitter feed (@GarroshHllscrm), so if any of you would like to keep tabs on him that way, feel free! Although…it just occurred to me that now I’m probably going to have to be on call to explain (and re-re-re-explain) to Garrosh how to use those…bad enough I’m stuck having to run him through stuff on Earth Online now…oh well.

Anyhow!  That’s it for now, everyone. If you’ll excuse me, I have to head back to the goblin part of town and see if the guys and I can figure out what keeps happening to our Kezam rice…

If you ever need anything!




[Header image provided by Rades from Orcish Army Knife, used here with permission and many thanks.]


Sludgewerks update


By the time I reached the Sludgewerks, Blastingineer Bombgutz had already come and gone. According to Jibbly Rackit – the main goblin in charge here, as much as any goblin ever seems to be in charge – the parts from Dontrag and Utvoch were part of a device to release some kind of bomb from a distance. The goblins already finished work on the bomb and sent it along to General Grebo at Cliffwalker Post.

Cliffwalker’s camp would make for a good launching point for attacks on either Battlescar Valley or Thal’darah Grove, so it makes sense Krom’gar and Grebo to make that their staging ground. From what I can tell, there’s a major skirmish going on with the night elves in Battlescar Valley. If this bomb is being targeted for the grove instead, I can only imagine what the elves must have going on there.

I’m heading to Thal’darah Grove now. Probably should have listened to Dontrag and Utvoch and headed straight there rather than wasting time on the damn goblins. Updates to come as I’m able to give them.


Underneath the bunker


Thank goodness for familiar faces in the middle of all the crazy.

None of the troops here at Krom’gar’s fortress knew a whole lot about what was going on, other than Overlord Krom’gar and General Grebo being away on some important mission. Like I said before, I would have guessed some good old-fashioned gnome-punting, but nobody seemed to know for sure. Turns out, though, they had a few other men stationed down in the mine just below the fortress, so I headed down there with Mokvar, who’s FINALLY gotten his ass around to training up his inscription so he can record drawings and transcripts of useful stuff. TOO FUCKING BAD HE DIDN’T HAVE THAT SHIT READY WHEN I NEEDED A GOOD WALK-AWAY-FROM-EXPLOSION PORTRAIT. Lazy fucker.

Anyway, he finally got that shit taken care of, so considering how fishy things have been looking here in Stonetalon, I’m having him keep a running record of everything from here on. As it turns out, two of the men Krom’gar had working in the mine were Sergeant Dontrag and Scout Utvoch, the two soldiers I’d met back in Ashenvale and sent ahead to help with Krom’gar’s forces.

I want to make sure we’re keeping the details straight, so I’m going to copy out Mokvar’s transcript here. Well, I’m going to try to. His handwriting is fucking shit. Who the fuck are these inscription trainers, and what are they doing, breaking everyone’s fucking fingers before they let them take their damn pens home?


UTVOCH: Warchief! Lok’tar ogar! An honor to see you, sir!

DONTRAG: A great honor, Warchief!

UTVOCH: Very great indeed, sir!

DONTRAG: An inconceivable great honor!

GARROSH: Okay, enough, seriously, you guys, we’ve been through this before already, you’ve really got to tone it way, way, WAY the fuck DOWN.

DONTRAG: Sorry, Warchief.

UTVOCH: Very sorry.

DONTRAG: Our apologies, sir.

UTVOCH: Yes sir.

DONTRAG: Very deepest apologies.



UTVOCH: Shutting up, sir.

DONTRAG: Yes sir.

GARROSH: That’s better. So I’m trying to find out what the hell has been going on around here. Hopefully you men can shed some light on all this.

DONTRAG: Well, sir, Utvoch and I have been working down here in the mine mostly, so I’m not sure about everything that’s been happening above. But it sure sounded like there was a major battle going on up there, what with the sounds of machinery and gunfire.

GARROSH: What were you two doing down here, then, hiding in a cave when your comrades were engaged in honorable battle? From the looks of it out there, there WAS an attack on the fortress—

UTVOCH: Gnomes, sir?

DONTRAG: Damn, I hate gnomes.

GARROSH: I KNOW, RIGHT? Fucking gnomes, that’s what it looks like.

UTVOCH: Damn fucking gnomes indeed!

DONTRAG: Inconceivable fucking gno—


DONTRAG: Sorry sir.

GARROSH: Now answer my question! Why were you here and not joining in on the fight?

DONTRAG: Believe me, Warchief, not for lack of desire to be up there with the others.

UTVOCH: It was General Grebo’s orders, sir.

DONTRAG: Well General Grebo, and the Overlord, sir. We were originally supposed to escort the general to the northern front and help deliver ordnance for the battle with the night elves in Battlescar Valley. But then the goblin blastgineer—

UTVOCH: Blastgineer Bombgutz, sir.

DONTRAG: —Blastgineer Bombgutz here in the mine went out of contact, and the fortress needed the machine parts she was supposed to be gathering, for the anti-aircraft cannons, sir, and so Overlord Krom’gar decided to send two of his best orcs down to investigate and send the parts back so he’d be ready to defend the fortress.

UTVOCH: Which we did, sir.

DONTRAG: Just in the nick of time, but we did.

UTVOCH: Well, with a little help.

DONTRAG: Well, yeah, but we don’t need to get into that.

UTVOCH: Did you even get their name?

DONTRAG: Don’t think so. Did you?

UTVOCH: No, never introduced themselves.

DONTRAG: Yeah, these passing-through helpers never do.

UTVOCH: Pretty rude if you ask me.

DONTRAG: Like it would kill them to strike up a conversation. But oh no, just wander on in, what do you need me to do? Then up and on their way, and—

GARROSH: ENOUGH already. HEAD HURTS. I’m losing my sense of humor with you two. Damn, you orcs are a piece of work. Fucking brilliant. YOU’RE the best of the best Krom’gar’s got, huh? No wonder everything’s running so great around here.

UTVOCH: Um, thank you, sir?

GARROSH: And stop grinning like a couple of idiots.

DONTRAG: Sorry sir.

GARROSH: <sigh> Anyway… So the Overlord needed parts for the cannons, I get that, but once that was taken care of, why not get back up to the fortress and help DEFEND it? I’m sure they could have used every hand up there.

UTVOCH: General’s orders, sir.

GARROSH: What orders?

DONTRAG: Well, you see, Warchief, it wasn’t just the cannons that needed additional parts.The general was also overseeing another project for the northern front, some kind of…what did he call it?

UTVOCH: Deployment mechanism?

DONTRAG: Yeah, that’s it – a deployment mechanism that was going to be needed soon, and he was expecting them to be delivered along with the artillery parts. Only when the blastgineer went missing, and Overlord Krom’gar sent us down to check on her, General Grebo instructed us to stay until we’d secured those extra parts.

UTVOCH: And then stay here until they could be sent north, sir.

DONTRAG: I guess the mechanism thing is pretty important to the northern strategy, and General Grebo wanted to make sure the parts he needed would be secure. And he said he needed to make sure a couple of orcs he could trust would stay and make sure the parts were taken care of.

UTVOCH: He said it was more important that we stay here under cover, sir.

DONTRAG: Apparently he couldn’t afford to have something happen to us while we were taking care of the shipment.

UTVOCH: Which we did, sir.

DONTRAG: Yeah, we just gathered up the last of them and sent them ahead with Blastgineer Bombgutz.

GARROSH: Where were they going? And what were they for, anyway? What the fuck is a “deployment mechanism”, what do I look like, a fucking goblin or something?

UTVOCH: No, no sir, you’re not green at all.

GARROSH: I…don’t know how to take that.


GARROSH: MOVING ON. Where was the shipment going?

DONTRAG: The Sludgewerks, sir. Straight northwest. I guess they were making the final upgrades to the mechanism before sending it along to Cliffwalker Post. General Grebo was supposed to supervise the arrival personally.

GARROSH: What about Chieftain Cliffwalker?

DONTRAG: Not sure, sir.

GARROSH: Hmm… Okay, in that case I should probably head out there and see just what’s going on. Whatever Krom’gar and Grebo have in the works, I’m sure it’s bad news for the night elves, and I don’t want to miss the show. You men finish up whatever you need to do here, and check in with me at Cliffwalker Post.

DONTRAG: Begging your pardon, sir, if I could make a suggestion?

GARROSH: What is it?

DONTRAG: Well, sir, I’m not too clear on the whole operation—

UTVOCH: Obviously.

DONTRAG: Like you are?

UTVOCH: More than you—


DONTRAG: Right, sir.

UTVOCH: Sorry sir.

DONTRAG: Much apologizings. Um, anyhow, I don’t know all the details, but I know part of the reason for this big production with the…deployment mechanism…well, it has something to do with some kind of weapon the night elves have been assembling. They’ve set up a base at Thal’darah Grove, not far from Cliffwalker Post, where they’re finishing work on it.

GARROSH: What kind of weapon?

DONTRAG: Not sure, sir. Just that it’s supposed to be massive.

UTVOCH: “Of mass destruction,” as they say, sir.

DONTRAG: Yeah. So, sir, if you want to get to the bottom of this, might I suggest you investigate there straight away?

GARROSH: Hmm… You men are dedicated, I’ll give you that. All right, I’ll check up on all this. You two head back to Orgrimmar when you’re done here – I’ll want to have a full debriefing with you, the general, and the overlord when this is all finished.

DONTRAG: Yes, sir. Lok’tar.

GARROSH: Strength and honor, men. Peace. Um, not literally. Anyway.


You know, gotta say, as crappy as Mokvar’s handwriting is, it’s pretty impressive he was able to get all that shit down. Anyway, I’m sending Mokvar back to Orgrimmar to arrange a Kor’kron detachment to come out this way. Any way you cut it, something still doesn’t sit right with me about this. I’m pretty damn certain there’s SOMETHING happening at Thal’darah Grove that’s in the middle of it, even if Dontrag and Utvoch aren’t exactly in the know about all the details…but before I go running over there, I want to check on what these goblin fuckers are working on at the Sludgewerks.

More updates soon.

"I think we made a good impression on the Warchief, Donty." "Sort of, Ut." "Sort of, as in how?" "Sort of, as in the 'me' part of the 'we'."

“I think we made a good impression on the Warchief, Donty.” “Sort of, Ut.” “Sort of, as in how?” “Sort of, as in the ‘me’ part of the ‘we’.”


Spazzle Speaks


What’s up?

Hi all, this is Spazzle Fizzletrinket. I think Garrosh might have mentioned me a time or two; I’m the goblin who’s been helping him with the technical side of running this blog. The Warchief generously offered to let me have a guest post to introduce myself, so hopefully if this goes well I might be able to make the occasional appearance here.

I just wanted to thank everyone for reading and linking to us here, and also mention that I’m going to be tinkering a little (it’s what my people do!) to add some links and other goodies to the blog. If you have or know of other blogs that might be of interest to the Warchief’s readers, please do let me know and I’ll try to make sure to include them – and of course those of you who’ve been listing us on your own blogs will very likely be having the favor returned.

The Warchief has his e-mail listed in the blog’s sidebar information but I’ll mention it again here – he can be reached at garrosh1337@gmail.com. Actually either of us can; I’m also helping screen the Warchief’s fan mail, so you can always direct a message to me there as well.

Keep those e-mails coming in general – I know the Warchief loves hearing from people, and he wants to try to respond to as many actual reader messages as he can when he does his mailbag posts.

That’s all for now. Hopefully I’ll pop up in this space again soon!

If you ever need anything!