Tag Archives: irritation
Catch-Up Mechanic
A quick out-of-character preface to what will be something of an out-of-character installment — I knew that when I revived the blog, I wanted to include some recaps of what’s come before. After all, even I in all my arrogance couldn’t assume that everyone would remember what’s been going on after all this time. But I also didn’t want that recapping just to be paragraph after paragraph of exposition. I finally came up with an idea that should serve both to refresh everyone’s memory and also to quickly acclimate anyone who’s just now arriving. Hope you enjoy this slant on things… you’ll likely be seeing it again!
(As a minor side note, if you have trouble seeing any of the embedded text in the images to come, you can always click on them to see a larger version.)
And so, with no further ado… Let’s dip into an oddly familiar third-person view of our typically first-person story…
It all began a few years back, when an unsuspecting Garrosh noticed that Eitrigg seemed to have something on his mind…
The Warchief, unconvinced but curious, made his way over to the goblin part of town, where he found what would eventually become a very familiar face…
To make it happen, Spazzle had a followup quest of his own…
Although this one wasn’t quite as well-received as Eitrigg’s start to the chain…
Garrosh returned to Grommash Hold and did just that. And so, his second career as a very, very, very low-grade blogging celebrity began…
His first, but far from his last. Despite not-infrequent gaps and delays, the posts would keep on coming.
Okay, you get the point. It turns out that the big lug had a lot of thoughts and musings to share. But that initial suggestion that the Warchief go talk to Spazzle wasn’t the last time that Eitrigg would have a job for Garrosh, even in those early days.
Hoo boy. This one was going to keep Garrosh busy for a while, which, as you can well imagine, filled him with satisfaction with his career choices. On the up side, while conducting his inspections, he would manage to unlock various other side quests, not all of which were exactly a chore…
As you can imagine, he really was in his element.
That said, while it’s all fun and games while you’re blowing up night elves, afterward Garrosh needed to get back down to business and deal with a number of subpar performances.
By all appearances, that was the end of that. Mokvar got to work on his inscription, the wyvern got some much-needed exercise along the Winterspring-Silithus round-trip flight path, and all was well with Azeroth. Until a strange missive found its way into the Warchief’s weekly mailbag…
Okay, so with the mission done and Mortimer the wyvern back under Horde control, that was definitely the end of that.
Until, up late one night playing Earth Online, Garrosh heard a strange knocking at the door.
Lathorius’ attack against Garrosh went about as well as everything else he does. Mortimer came to the rescue, securing his place at Garrosh’s side, where he’s been ever since.
And Garrosh, meanwhile, wouldn’t see the last addition to his inner circle of followers. Because Eitrigg just never seemed to run out of ideas…
Don’t worry — we won’t be going through the whole blog step by step like this. But it’s a fun enough way to revisit some of the major story threads as we ramp back up. If there are particular events or storylines you’d especially like to see get this treatment, by all means chime in!
More soon!
Shipwreck Me Twice, Shame on Me
When Nazgrim the legionnaire
Took over the captain’s chair,
With his new commission
He went on a mission
But he never made it there.
His vessel, instead, went splat
When it ran into Ozumat.
It floated no more;
To the ocean floor
It sunk and then that was that.
Nazgrim survived in Vashj’ir
And came home to Orgrimmar here;
Two more years in the bank,
A general’s rank
I granted the brigadier.
When we found a new land cloaked in mist,
I gave Nazgrim Hellscream’s Fist;
He had one command:
To go seize this land.
But then came the frustrating twist.
With the mists of Pandaria clearing,
Nazgrim somehow still had trouble steering:
He made his air skiff glide
Right into the cliffside.
I tell you, this quirk ain’t endearing.
So given two ships, Nazgrim wrecked ’em.
You might wonder, why would I select ’im?
My options aren’t packed; he
Was best of my lackeys
Who mostly have heads up their rectums.
But Nazgrim? A brain? Yeah, he’s got one.
He’ll step up for the jobs that are not fun.
And in times souls are tried,
He’ll ride in by your side —
Just make sure that you make him ride shotgun.
EPIC VERSE!
More EPICness in a few days… don’t forget to give suggestions in the comments for what other LYRICAL MASTERPIECES you’d like to see from your Warchief. Topics, opening lines, whatever comes to mind. YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS.
To My Minions: How Do You Fail Me?
How do you fail me? Let me count the ways.
You fail me every time I take the chance
You might do something right — just once, perchance,
But no, our every mission goes sideways.
You fail me, D&U, with every phrase;
You fail when Lor’themar tries not to prance,
When Nazgrim crashed his ships, and missed his chance:
He let the captured Anduin get away.
My minions let me down at every turn;
I give them ample chances, but they choke.
Some day, I think, these imbeciles will learn;
One outcome won’t be such a fucking joke.
I think that… then here comes the next ill turn.
Free from their failure? Maybe when I croak.
EPIC VERSE!
The Expendables
When Dontrag and Utvoch enlisted at first,
Within a few minutes, Thrall thought he was cursed.
They’d barely shown up when their path was reversed:
To Ashenvale they were assigned.
To Splintertree Post they were hurried along,
Where Utvoch would sneak to nearby Forest Song
To leer at the draenei (It know, it’s so wrong) —
The hooves spellbound his one-track mind.
At first, D&U made a good enough showing,
Until Mastok made his mistake, without knowing:
One “hello” in passing; that just got them going.
Try shutting them up? It’s no use.
Two weeks of their babbling left Mastok shaken,
But then came the Shattering, saving his bacon:
For all the destruction and death it was makin’,
It also gave him his excuse.
With Ashenvale rocked, opportunity soared —
Then Silverwind Refuge was claimed by the Horde!
Mastok realized they needed new troops on board,
And he knew two orcs for the job.
They caught the next caravan heading down there.
The transfer was rushed, but Mastok didn’t care;
Just let them be stuck in Captain Tarkan’s hair!
Let his be the time that they rob.
But Tarkan’s a smart one — he sized up his gains
And knew right away D&U had no brains,
And, saving himself several dozen migraines,
He shuffled them out of his sight.
By this point, ol’ D&U’s heads, they were spinning;
These transfers had them dizzy idiot-grinning.
But who knew their story was only beginning?
From Ashenvale they rode by night.
To Stonetalon Mountains they made their meander,
Where Overlord Krom’gar was their new commander.
They showed him their papers, he scarce took a gander,
And took them on board to enlist ’em.
So basically Tarkan made Krom’gar a sucker;
That’s great, ’cause you know I hate that motherfucker.
That dude can lean into my ass with a pucker —
Except I’ve already dismissed ’im.
Fast forward a few months, and D&U’s blather
Had worn out its welcome (though really I’d rather
Have seen them annoy Krom’gar straight to a lather);
He’d tired of their jokes and their speeches.
At this point, some silence was all Krom’gar craved
(If only he knew he’d get lots in the grave),
So he sent their asses off into a cave:
Assigned them to watch the Deep Reaches.
And that’s where I found them; I never suspected
What kind of annoying asshats I’d collected,
Or to what frustration I’d soon be subjected;
Perhaps Krom’gar got the last laugh.
They’re always around now; it’s like some confinement
Where nothing I do can untwine our entwinement;
You’d think someone else could once get the assignment —
I need better minions on staff.
So this is my life now — I go anyplace,
I turn around once, I’ve got them in my face;
Pandaria, Orgrimmar — hell, Netherspace!
All plans to escape just unravel.
As much as I’d like to unload them, I’m stuck;
When you’re Warchief, there’s no more passing the buck.
I wish I could go back and warn myself — fuck,
Strike that idea. FUCKING TIME TRAVEL.
So ever since D&U first got recruited,
The one common thread has been them getting booted.
That might be the only job to which they’re suited
Since nobody wants them around.
If you had to deal with them, you’d do it, too.
I’m sure I’ll repeat this more times than a few:
You cannot spell “dumbass” without D and U.
Now ’scuse me — in beer I must drown.
EPIC VERSE!
Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge continues later this week — remember, new BRILLIANT AND EPIC COMPOSITIONS will go up every Tuesday and Friday for the duration of National Poetry Month. Be sure to post suggestions and requests for future installments in the comments below — give me a topic, give me an opening line, give me someone who’s done you wrong who you’d like me to give an EPIC VERSE takedown. Unless you think I did you wrong somehow. WHICH I MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT. So maybe YOU will be getting the takedown. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES, HUH?
More soon.
Kypari Zar
FOUR: FATHER TO THE MAN
* Lok’osh was one of Garrosh’s trainees and an original member of the DPS unit. While on maneuvers in Krasarang Wilds, Lok’osh and the other trainees found themselves trapped in a series of underground caves inhabited by saurok. In one altercation with the saurok, Lok’osh was killed.
** After Garrosh found the trainees and led them to safety, the group laid Lok’osh’s remains to rest here.
Kypari Zar
[Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you! As I said at the end of the Spazzle mailbag, I want to finish Garrosh’s journey to Kypari Zar before I return him to mailbag duty. And since we still have a few chapters of the Kypari Zar story to go, today’s regularly scheduled mailbag is on hold until this comic sequence wraps up. (I’ve used awkward workarounds in the past to let him post mailbags while he was in the middle of other events, but truth be told, I always found them rather inelegant, so I’d rather not resort to them again…) As I indicated last time, the mail will be coming, the first Monday following the completion of the Kypari Zar mini-arc (believe me, you’ll know when that is!).
Until then, all I can do is thank you for your patience with my slow production of late, thank you in advance for your ongoing patience going forward, and promise that I really am working on generating content for the blog as quickly as life will allow! Oh, and hope that you’re finding that content tolerable when it finally does get here… <crosses fingers>
With that said… let me toss out a handy link back to parts one and two, then send you right along to… ]
THREE: HAUNTED
* As longtime readers will remember, Garrosh believed at one point that he had been reunited with his long-lost mother, Lakkara,** only to discover that her apparent return had actually been a ruse perpetrated by Magatha Grimtotem. Magatha used to specially attuned totem to summon Lakkara’s spirit and create the appearance that she had returned, only to stage her apparent death — hauntingly, given the current events at Kypari Zar, by her stepping in to take an attacker’s blow directed at Garrosh.
** I’ve noted this before, but it bears repeating: while Lords of War and the “Hellscream” short story established that Garrosh’s mother’s name was Golka, the blog still acknowledges her as Lakkara. This is partially because the blog arc had already happened by the time Lords of War came along, and I didn’t really want to retcon, and partially because… well, you’ll see. There is A Plan.™ Just trust me for now!
Okay, who pulled?
Earlier today, I rounded up General Nazgrim, Shokia, Jorn Skyseer, and a few Kor’kron — beastmasters in particular — and finally took a trip up to the Isle of Giants. Most of you will probably remember I’ve been having Nazgrim send his people up there to get the lay of the land and scout out the prospect of there being some animals — the Giants of which this is the Isle of — that might be useful to us. Because DINOSAURS, motherfucker.
Now, most of you will ALSO probably remember that the last time I got a report on the subject from Naz and company, I was still in Orgrimmar, and Nazgrim’s people decided to get cute rather than waiting for me to get back down here to Pandaria. And, you know, things went about as well as you’d expect them to when my minions go off-script. R.I.P. Wannabe Dinomancer Steve, you stupid dead motherfucker.
So today I finally took the trip up there to check things out personally. And HOO BOY, they were NOT kidding about that place. DINOSAUR CITY, man. Shokia took point for us, since she’d led the scouting expeditions and knew the territory the best. She guided us up to this central plateau on the island, and lo and behold, larger than life, there he was — Oondasta, the giant freaking devilsaur that Nazgrim’s crew had their eyes on last time, before ol’ Deadmaster Steve turned out to smell appetizing.
Now, though, we came prepared — seeing as THIS time, the brains of the operation had an actual BRAIN. What’s more, I had my handy-dandy Tome of Dinomancy that Grottee Metalbeard scored for me, and after we managed to maneuver Oondasta into a clear area, the beastmasters started doing their thing, and everything started falling into place. The dino struggled at first, but soon enough he started giving in to the enchantments of the tome, and full-on taming looked to be right around the corner.
Aaaaaand of course, since this is US, that’s when something stupid happened. The stupid in this case took the form of this random bunch of Alliance nobodies running on in and ATTACKING the damn devilsaur that we were trying to tame. Before we even had a chance to react, they had the dino beaten down pretty badly, and even though we were able to thin the herd pretty quickly once we realized what was going on, the remaining Allies were still able to finish Oondasta off. Like, just shy of one minute before I personally chopped the last handful of them into several dozen pieces.
But, still, damage done. Shokia was nearly as pissed off about it as I was, which is saying something. Apparently it’s some kind of a hunter thing, people killing their prospective pets, and I mean, who the fuck does that? In what other setting is that shit a cool thing to do? Would someone go running into a fucking pet shop, too, and put an axe through the damn goldfish you were getting ready to buy, along with a little model sunk ship and a little model Nazgrim leading his little model crew away from their latest little model disaster? No. Nobody does that. But oh boy, take the “you kill it, you buy it” policy out of the equation, and all of a sudden watch the griefers come out of the woodwork. Fucking rude if you ask me.
Anyway, I suppose we didn’t come away COMPLETELY empty-handed. We know that these tomes actually work, for one thing. And according to my sources, there’s an even bigger, badder devilsaur wandering around out there. A little more elusive, apparently, but we’ll find him.
Also, I have kind of a consolation prize to bring back to base with me. After Oondasta and the bad-judgment-having Alliance jackasses all bought it, we were getting ready to leave, when this young, cobalt-colored direhorn came wandering into the clearing. She went sniffing around Oondasta’s body, then poked around kind of aimlessly before she came over near us. Jorn’s guess is that the direhorn followed Oondasta around and fed on his leftovers. Whatever the story was, she seemed to take a liking to me right away (#TheLadyDinosaursLoveGarrosh?), and started following me, and… well… yeah, I guess I’ve got another mount for my personal stash in the stables. <shrug>
Anyhow, I suppose we’ve got a little time now to line things up for take two with that other devilsaur. In the meantime, I get to figure out how I’m going to get a damn direhorn back to base.
More soon.
From Hellscream’s heart, I stab at thee
So in case any of you were wondering after that last bonus poem the other day, YES, I got sick of Dontrag and Utvoch’s stupid yammering, and YES, I chucked their damn asses overboard, and YES, I’m making them swim the rest of the goddamn way to Pandaria. And before you get your damn bleeding hearts all bloody over them, don’t worry, we’re not just taking off and leaving them — we haven’t been making the best time to begin with, and trust me, the FEAR of getting left behind has kept them swimming at a nice brisk pace.
Now I can already hear your NEXT crybaby objection: “But Garrosh, you’ve been at sea for days, how can they sleep? Alas, wah wah, boo hoo, there’s sand in my hoo-ha.” Well first of all, thank you for taking an interest, Lor’themar, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you on this trip. Second of all, yes, for fuck’s sake, they get to sleep. I’m not a damn monster. The first thing I did after I chucked the idiot brigade overboard… well, hold up, let me be honest. It wasn’t the FIRST thing I did. First I had a good long laugh and took a few hours to savor the sweet, sweet quiet. So, okay, the NEXT thing I did AFTER that was toss a raft and some rope down to Dumber and Dumber Still. So, see? One of them can get on the raft and sleep while the other one pulls him along behind him. Just like a kodo pulling a wagon. Only without the kodo having to pull the wagon through ocean water or do it while wearing heavy plate armor. And also kodos are at least 67% smarter. BUT THE POINT STANDS. They both get to have their goddamn shut-eye. They just have to take turns or draw straws or whatever. So that’s covered.
Meanwhile, since we still have some time to kill before we arrive, that gives me a chance to go over business with the major players we’ve got on hand.
Garrosh, Captain Drok, Mokvar, and Malkorok stand near the stern of the ship, looking out over the sea.
GARROSH: So somebody remind me, weren’t we already supposed to be in Pandaria by this point?
MALKOROK: I do recall the last trip going faster, yes sir.
DROK: It can’t be helped, Warchief. We hit a windless patch the second day that slowed us down. Still waters. Not much to be done about it.
GARROSH: Can’t we go faster now to make up for it?
DONTRAG: <shouting from the waters just off the stern> No, sir! Not faster!
GARROSH: I THINK YOU TWO PINHEADS HAVE BETTER USES FOR YOUR BREATH THAN BITCHING AND MOANING!
UTVOCH: <also shouting from overboard> But sir!
DONTRAG: <overboard> Dammit, Ut, zip it before he starts throwing stuff again!
UTVOCH: <overboard> But my arms are getting tired!
GARROSH: HEY, jackasses — my EARS are getting tired!
UTVOCH: <overboard> Sorry sir…
GARROSH: <turning back to Drok> You’re sure you can’t pick up the pace a little?
MOKVAR: I’m a little confused, actually. Why are we taking a boat, rather than using a mage portal?
GARROSH: Oh, geez, THAT whole shit show…
MALKOROK: You had to remind him of this, didn’t you, scribe…
MOKVAR: Huh? What am I missing?
GARROSH: Yeah, so, we COULD use a mage portal, except for the fact that the mages who came back to Orgrimmar with us all managed to forget to train the damn Shrine portal before they left.
MOKVAR: I… oh.
GARROSH: Yeah, And I guess maybe some of Lor’the’whatever’s magisters might have gotten it, but they’re all camped out on that thunder place and Ponytail hasn’t been returning my messages.
While the others are talking, Giska and Korrina appear nearby and approach the side of the ship, carrying fishing poles.
GISKA: You never learned this at all?
KORRINA: No, never got around to training it.
GARROSH: <calling over from nearby> Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around.
KORRINA: Uh, yes, Captain.
GISKA: Of course, sir.
KORRINA: <aside> Do you know what he’s talking about?
GISKA: <aside> No, but that isn’t uncommon. I usually find keeping quiet and nodding attentively goes a long way, though.
KORRINA: Huh. Good tip.
GISKA: It helps a lot.
KORRINA: So how does this work?
GISKA: Well, first you need to bait your hook…
Giska opens a tackle box and takes out a brightly-colored lure.
So you take one of these and attach it…
Giska hands Korrina another lure and attached her own to her hook.
Like this, see?
KORRINA: Like this?
GISKA: Try to get it— right, there, like that.
KORRINA: <looking at her lure quizzically> The fish are actually fooled by these?
GISKA: Apparently.
KORRINA: Isn’t fish supposed to be brain food? Seems weird they’d be that stupid.
Giska shrugs.
GISKA: Okay, so now, when you’re ready to cast, you wind up like this, then…
Giska casts off the side of the ship; Korrina does as well, a little more awkwardly.
KORRINA: Okay… so what do we do now?
GISKA: We wait.
KORRINA: Oh.
Korrina looks around.
For how long?
GISKA: For as long as it takes for a fish to bite.
KORRINA: Huh.
Korrina looks overboard at her bobber.
Well geez, these fish better hurry up…
UTVOCH: <overboard> Oh hey, there’s like a shrimp or something here! I bet it tastes — aaahh! The shrimp is defending itself somehow!
Giska looks around awkwardly as her fishing line goes taut.
GISKA: Um…
KORRINA: Yeah, definitely not brain food.
DONTRAG: <overboard> Dammit, Ut, stop thrashing around so much!
UTVOCH: <overboard> I swear the shrimp had something sharp in it!
GISKA: Um, I’m not sure I’m going to get that lure back…
KORRINA: You can’t just pull it back?
GISKA: Well, not without ripping up… um… that one’s mouth, probably. Whichever one of them he is. I probably shouldn’t risk it.
GARROSH: <shouting over> Roll those dice, if you ask me.
MOKVAR: You know, boss, if you maim everyone who annoys you, eventually you will run out of people to maim…
GARROSH: Yeah, like I’m worried about the bottomless well of anonymous red shirts running out.
GISKA: Huh. Well…
Giska tries tugging back her line, setting off a pained wail from Utvoch out of view.
Right. So. I’ll just… let that one go and get a new lure…
Gurtash and Kulkesh enter, walking close to either side of Ruekie, who appears to be moving unsteadily.
KULKESH: Okay… just a little farther…
GURTASH: Watch this next step, Ruekie.
KORRINA: She’s not doing any better?
GURTASH: It’s even worse now. You know… morning and all.
RUEKIE: <trying to steady herself> Why…? Why would they do it…?
GISKA: What did I miss?
KULKESH: Well, she—
RUEKIE: <flailing> What kind of sadist stocks a galley like that?!
Gurtash and Kulkesh try to steady Ruekie.
GURTASH: Kafa withdrawal…
KULKESH: The galley ran out yesterday.
GISKA: Wait, she’s gone without kafa for less than a day so far, and she’s already—
RUEKIE: Seventeen nightmarish hours! Seventeen!
GURTASH: You do not appreciate how much of that stuff she drinks…
GISKA: And… I mean, wouldn’t eight of those have been spent sleeping anyway?
RUEKIE: They were now — without the wakeful buzz of my sweet haste buff! Oh… oh how I miss you, my wired caramelly haze…
KORRINA: See what you miss, being all early-to-bed and early-to-rise, Giska?
KULKESH: I guess the galley just stocked enough kafa to last a couple days—
RUEKIE: <flailing> who does that?! Why?! I— they— We— <whimpers> I feel so slow…
KULKESH: Right… so… We only had enough for a couple days, and now the trip’s ended up taking longer, so…
RUEKIE: They should have poured the kafa on the boat! For the haste buff! To— to get us there faster! Where… where the kafa is! But… but then there would be even less kafa left… and we wouldn’t… but… but we would get there faster… and… uh…
Ruekie flails wildly while Kulkesh and Gurtash try to steady her.
Aaaaaahhhhhh paradoxes! Fel with them!
GISKA: Uh, so… Ruekie… why don’t you just… get some fresh sea air and… and try to relax?
RUEKIE: <closing her eyes and swaying back and forth> Okay… okay… calming and relaxing… calming and… and… <whimpers< I swear if Gul’dan offered me a green cappuccino right now I’d be half tempted…
KORRINA: Uh. Yeah. Okay.
Korrina looks out at the ocean, then to Giska.
So… how long do these fish take?
GISKA: There’s no telling, really.
KORRINA: I mean, it’s been a while now.
GISKA: Not really. Sometimes it can take hours to get a bite.
KORRINA: Hours to…? Why do people make a hobby of this crap?!
GISKA: It’s not so bad. Think of it as a chance to clear your head and center yourself. I do some of my best meditating while I’m fishing.
KORRINA: Oh geez, here you go with that kung-fu panda stuff again…
GISKA: I’m just saying it can be soothing.
KORRINA: For you maybe! It’s already getting on my nerves.
Korrina’s line tugs a few times.
Oh. Oh hey, wait… That’s not one of those guys, is it?
GISKA: <looking overboard> I don’t think so… not sure, though…
UTVOCH: <overboard> Uh, Donty, don’t swim so close?
DONTRAG: <overboard> What are you talking about? I’m all the way over here!
UTVOCH: <overboard> You weren’t just over by me?
DONTRAG: <overboard> Ut, have you not noticed me swimming over here this whole time?
UTVOCH: <overboard> Then what just went by my leg?
DONTRAG: <overboard> I don’t know, a fish or something?
KULKESH: <looking over the side of the ship> Um, guys, do you see something down there?
GISKA: I’m not sure. They’re frothing around a lot. It’s hard to see.
KORRINA: <pulling back on her reel> Dunno, I’m more interested in this. I think I’ve got something!
RUEKIE: What is it?
KORRINA: I don’t know! Whatever it is, it’s putting up a fight!
KULKESH: A tuna, maybe? Those are pretty big.
GURTASH: Tasty, too!
RUEKIE: <grumbling> Kafa’s still better.
GURTASH: Well, yeah, but you can’t live on kafa.
RUEKIE: Don’t you even say that in fun!
GISKA: Whew, if we’re reeling tuna in, I’m glad Master Ji didn’t come along…
KORRINA: Must be a big one — it’s really putting up a fight!
DONTRAG: <overboard> Um… it looks like a fin or something…
UTVOCH: Yeah, well it feels like… it…
Utvoch looks over to one side as a large dorsal fin emerges from the water next to him.
Uh oh…
KULKESH: Hey! Look at that!
RUEKIE: Whoa!
KULKESH: I knew I saw something down there!
GURTASH: What kind of fish is that?
KORRINA: <pulling harder on her reel> A soon-to-be-dead one, if I can help it!
GURTASH: You’ve got that thing?
KORRINA: Dunno, but I’ve got something! And whatever it is is pretty strong for a fish…
Utvoch swims more frantically while looking over at the fin.
UTVOCH: <overboard> Uh, Donty… I think there’s… I think I feel something under me!
DONTRAG: <overboard> Well there kind of has to be, right, unless there’s like a troll wearing a big fake fin!
GURTASH: Uh, Captain, you maybe want to look at this…
GARROSH and DROK: What?
Garrosh and Drok look at each other.
DROK: Wouldn’t that be…?
GARROSH: I’m pretty sure he meant me.
MOKVAR: Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t run into that issue before on this trip…
GURTASH: <pointing overboard> Down there, sir! Look!
KULKESH: Korrina caught something, sir!
KORRINA: I think!
RUEKIE: It’s a big one!
Dontrag and Utvoch shout as the huge dorsal fin descends then rises again, with a giant creature visibly swelling the ocean water from beneath them.
DONTRAG: <overboard> Uhh Warchief!
UTVOCH: <overboard> Sir, I think we have a problem here!
Garrosh goes to the side of the ship and looks over.
GARROSH: What the hell have you idiots done this time?!
DONTRAG: <overboard> We swear, sir, we didn’t do anything!
UTVOCH: <overboard> Honest, Warchief, we—
Another giant fin splashes up out of the water and knocks Utvoch over. After a moment, Utvoch emerges, gasping, nearby.
DROK: Ohh, wait a minute… Could it…?
With another large, loud splash, an immense fish-like creature emerges from beneath the surface of the water, then crashes back down, sending a large splash onto the deck of the boat — dousing Garrosh and Drok in the process.
GARROSH: DAMMIT, you fuckheads, you can’t do ANYTHING without making a big fucking clown show out of it, can you!
DONTRAG: <overboard, scrambling around in the waves> Sorry, Warchief! We didn’t mean to!
UTVOCH: <overboard> We’re sorry having you throw us overboard ended up causing an inconvenience for you, sir!
KORRINA: I think this might have been me, actually, Captain…
Garrosh and Drok start to talk over each other, then look at each other.
GARROSH: Seriously, dude. When one of them says it, they mean me.
DROK: Aye, sorry, Warchief.
GARROSH: And what do you mean YOU did this?
One of the fins crashes up and back down to the water again, sending Dontrag crashing into the side of the boat.
KULKESH: Oh, that one had to hurt…
KORRINA: Well, sir, I think I might have, uh, hooked it…
GISKA: I was showing her how to fish just now, Captain…
GARROSH: Oh. Oh sure. Of course. A member of the Saurfang line goes fishing for the first time, and what happens? She catches a fucking WHALE…
KULKESH: Is it a whale?
KORRINA: As opposed to?
KULKESH: A big fish, I guess.
KORRINA: How do you tell the difference?
GISKA: Well, if it’s a whale, it would have a blowhole and come to the surface to breathe.
RUEKIE: A blowhole?
GURTASH: Oh no. Here we go…
GISKA: Right, you know, whales don’t have gills, so…
GARROSH: How the hell did that thing wind up right on top of us?
MOKVAR: Other than the Saurfang thing.
GARROSH: Yeah, other than that.
DROK: Well, sir…
Another swatting of fins sends Dontrag and Utvoch crashing into each other.
UTVOCH: <overboard> Uh, Warchief…!
DONTRAG: <overboard> This is really becoming not fun down here, sir!
GARROSH: WELL MAYBE YOU GENIUSES SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU WERE JACKASSES SINCE THE DAY YOU WERE BORN, NOW SHOULDN’T YOU?
DONTRAG: <overboard, struggling to pull his head back above water> Yes sir…
UTVOCH: <overboard> Sorry sir…
GISKA: Okay, so look, see, it’s got its back up above the water, so if it’s a whale…
RUEKIE: Oh!
Ruekie leans out over the side of the ship.
GARROSH: Rook, what the hell are you doing?
RUEKIE: Looking for the blowhole, sir!
GURTASH: Wait for it…
RUEKIE: I want to see all that stuff shoot out everywhere!
GURTASH: Aaaaand there it is.
MOKVAR: She does this on purpose, right?
RUEKIE: Does what…? <suddenly looks horrified> Oh gosh!
DROK: Actually, Warchief, I’m a fair bit sure I know what that thing is. Though I can’t say I ever expected I to see it again…
GARROSH: Well don’t just stand there being ominous, Drok. What the hell is it?
KORRINA: Is it a whale? I bet it’s a whale. I caught a whale!
GISKA: I don’t think I saw a blowhole on its back…
RUEKIE: <blushing> Could we not use that word anymore…?
DROK: It’s not a whale, sir. Whales… ah, they’re mostly harmless so long as you give them a wide berth. But this… aye, this is what whales would dream of if they had nightmares.
KORRINA: Oh so I caught something even more badass? Awesome!
GISKA: Well, I mean, you haven’t really caught it…
KORRINA: That’s just jealousy!
GARROSH: Yeah, so, Captain, I’m still hearing too much ominous and not enough answers.
Drok continues looking out at the sea without comment.
Uh, Captain?
Drok looks back to Garrosh.
DROK: Oh. The “Captain” was for me this time?
GARROSH: Dude, try to keep up. I was the one SAYING it. I’m not going to be talking to MYSELF, am I?
DROK: Aye, I reckon not, sir.
GARROSH: Right, so—
More crashing waves — accompanied by more panicked shouts from Dontrag and Utvoch — send the whole ship bucking violently. Everyone tries to steady themselves while deckhands scramble around.
DROK: <shouting toward the bow> Helm! Try bringing us around portside and give us some distance!
DONTRAG: <overboard> Warchief? Um, a rope maybe?
UTVOCH: <overboard> Please, sir?
GARROSH: YOU TWO SHUT UP WHILE I’M WORRYING ABOUT MORE IMPORTANT THINGS THAN YOU, IN OTHER WORDS ANYTHING.
DONTRAG: <overboard> Yes sir…
GARROSH: So do I get an answer here, Drok, or do we have to play fucking charades or some shit?
DROK: It’s not a whale, Warchief. It’s a whale shark. The kind we saw in the deep waters around Vashj’ir, back when I first served under General Nazgrim. Legionnaire then, sir. They don’t often venture this far south… or far north… but this one… Ah, yes, this one, sir. This one’s an exception.
GARROSH: Wait, you know this one specifically?
DROK: Aye, sir. I’ve seen him before. Never expected I might again. At least I would have hoped…
MOKVAR: How can you tell it’s not just some other whale shark?
MALKOROK: <calling below> Gunners! Get up here and man the cannons!
DROK: Look… on his next pass… aye, there!
The whale shark emerges again, setting off waves that send the ship tilting to one side; in the process, it also lifts Dontrag and Utvoch on its back, where they flail around frantically.
There, see, Warchief, the great white hump on the beast’s back…
GARROSH: Dammit, you idiots, get out of the way — you’re blocking the view!
DONTRAG: <sliding around on the whale shark’s back awkwardly> But— but sir…!
GARROSH: BUT NOTHING! Don’t make me tell the gunners to aim at you FIRST!
UTVOCH: <spilling off the side of the whale shark> Yes si— oof!
DROK: And there, Warchief… see the wrinkled white forehead… and along the one side, that long scar, left by ill-fated attempts in days long past to bring the monster down…
UTVOCH: <invisible amid the crashing waves> I really don’t like the sound of this, sir!
GARROSH: Neither do I, if by “this” you mean “your endless bitching”!
While the whole shark sinks and rises again amid the waves, Utvoch manages to climb onto its back and grab onto the dorsal fin.
UTVOCH: Donty! Up here! If we hold on to the fin maybe it won’t be able to bite us!
GISKA: So Captain…
Garrosh looks at her.
Um, Captain Drok, I mean.
Garrosh shrugs.
How do you know about this shark?
DROK: Ah, young’un, this beast has a name for himself, ’mid those of us sail the oceans. Mobius-Dick, the great white whale shark. Told in whispers, mostly, a ghost story for the seas, but for me, and a handful of others, well, we knew all too well he’s real.
The whale shark breaches and crashes back down on the water, rocking the ship again, then dives below the surface. Korrina’s fishing pole gets yanked out of her hands.
KORRINA: Wha— Oh dammit!
DROK: I’ve seen the beast once before, Warchief. You remember, Warchief, back before General Nazgrim found Pandaria in the southern seas, you remember I’d gone on an expedition for him to the northern ones.
GARROSH: Right, I remember. The force we sent to Northrend.
DROK: To pick up a certain arcane trinket. And deliver it to your blood elf friend a ways east.
MALKOROK: Hmph. Bite your tongue, Drok, calling that pompous elf a friend.
DROK: Ah, but he was good at his job in any case, though, wasn’t he.
GARROSH: Did a good job on the mana bomb, true enough.
DROK: Yes, sir — I like to think we had a hand in it as well. Sure, by the time Thalen was working his magic — heh! — we were setting said back home through the northern seas, but I like to think us delivering… well, Warchief, you know… I like to think, in a way, that we delivered the mana bomb.
GARROSH: So, what, on the way back is when you saw this thing or something?
DROK: Aye. On the way home.
Drok goes quiet moment while the crashing of waves around them goes more still.
Mobius-Dick slammed unannounced into our side, Warchief, barely a day out of our rendezvous delivering the mana bomb. 110 orcs went into the water. Ship went down in minutes. And of course, Warchief, our mission had been so secret, no rescue was bound to be coming, not right away. First light, Warchief, Mobius-Dick come cruising back again. So we formed ourselves in tight groups. <chuckles grimly> You know, like maneuvers from basic training, closing the ranks… <waving toward the trainees without looking at them> You young ones learning all that, I wager… And the idea was, whale shark comes near a the group and they’d start pounding and hollering… and sometimes the whale shark would go away. Sometimes he wouldn’t go away… So, 110 orcs went in the water, 31 come out, Mobius-Dick took the rest, twelve days before Theramore. Anyway… we delivered the mana bomb.
MOKVAR: Spirits.
KULKESH: <aside> Remind me never to sign up for naval duty.
GISKA: <aside> Yeah. <beat> Also, don’t phrase it that way too loud around Ruekie.
KULKESH: <aside> Could be entertaining, though.
GISKA: <aside> True.
GARROSH: How did I not hear about any of this?
MALKOROK: We had reports of an incident at sea and recovery, Warchief, but I don’t remember being given the details.
GARROSH: Because I REMEMBER you commanding one of the ships in at Theramore, Drok.
DROK: That I did, Warchief.
GARROSH: In fact, I’m pretty sure you delivered the small strike force we sent in to extract Thalen.
DROK: I suppose I’m a veritable delivery man, sir.
MOKVAR: So you mean you came home from… from that, and turned right around to take another mission?
DROK: I’m a soldier of the Horde, sir, and Nazgrim trained me well. I’m a soldier and I had my duty, and so long as I still have legs, I’ll perform it.
GARROSH: Well, whatever it is, if it—
With a loud crash of waves, Mobius-Dick — with Dontrag and Utvoch still hanging desperately onto its dorsal fin — emerges close to the ship, causing a surge of waves that sends the ship tilting sharply to one side. Deckhands scramble around while Drok barks orders.
DONTRAG: <sputtering for breath> Guh— we— Ut? You still there?
UTVOCH: <sputtering as well> Yeah— I— blurg— I can’t see you, though, I think I got like some salt water in my eyes somehow…
MALKOROK: Get those cannons armed while we have a clear line on it!
DONTRAG: Warchief?
DROK: Aye, sir!
UTVOCH: Sir?
GARROSH: OPEN FIRE!
The cannoneers open fire at Mobius-Dick; the whale shark thrashes violently and splashes water heavily over the deck, dousing everyone nearby.
KORRINA: Guh!
MOKVAR: Dammit, I just dried this suit…
RUEKIE: Ack! That big Dick got me all wet!
KULKESH: Uh…
KORRINA: Uh… Ruek…
GISKA: It’s… it’s not even worth getting into.
MOKVAR: Are we sure she’s not doing it on purpose?
Another round of cannon fire pelts one side of the whale shark — with Dontrag and Utvoch visible still clinging to the dorsal fin.
DONTRAG: <sputtering> You know, Ut, I’m starting to think maybe this fin idea might not have been the best plan…
UTVOCH: <gasping for breath> Well geez, would you rather get swallowed?
DONTRAG: It might be better than getting pulled under till we drown!
UTVOCH: But then we’d get… like…. slowly digested for a thousand years or something!
DROK: Helm, keep us alongside! Don’t let him close on us!
MALKOROK: Kor’kron! Maintain fire!
DONTRAG: Wait! Sir!
UTVOCH: Warchief, please!
Dontrag and Utvoch clamber in tighter against the dorsal fin, partially trying to use it for cover amid the increasing hail of cannonballs.
GARROSH: I’M HEARING WAY TOO MUCH NOISE FROM THE FUCKING EXPENDABLES. <bellowing below deck> Get some shaman up here to try to steady the waters! And while we’re at it, hey, how about some of those beastmasters we brought get their damn asses up here, what with we got a goddamn beast that could use some mastering! Unless they’re all working at the frigging Steve level!
UTVOCH: Poor Steve!
DONTRAG: Spirits rest his soul — I can’t believe he’s gone!
UTVOCH: Yeah, I know — he owed me like fifteen gold…
DONTRAG: Dammit, Ut, the poor guy’s dead! Eaten even!
UTVOCH: <hanging on to the whale shark desperately as it thrashes> Yeah, well, better him than us!
DONTRAG: Ut, there were never any devilsaur gonna eat us!
UTVOCH: Spirits’ sake, Donty, look where we are right now!
GARROSH: OKAY, THAT’S IT, I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THE PRATTLING IDIOT SOUNDTRACK ON CONSTANT LOOP WHILE WE HAVE LITERAL BIGGER FISH TO FRY!
Garrosh grabs a harpoon from a weapons rack and runs back to the edge of the deck.
DONTRAG: Warchief! We’re sorry, sir!
UTVOCH: We really mean it this time, sir! Cross our hearts and hope to —
DONTRAG: Dammit, Ut!
GARROSH: SHUT! THE FUCK! UP!
Garrosh hurls the harpoon toward Mobius-Dick — hitting it square in the middle of its wrinkled forehead. The whale shark thrashes violently, shaking Dontrag and Utvoch off its back; the duo fly toward the ship. The whale shark’s thrashing causes a wave that douses the deck again, just as D&U crash into Garrosh.
DONTRAG: <sprawled, with Utvoch, awkwardly on the deck> I… I don’t think I like seafood anymore…
UTVOCH: My hands are all pruney…
GARROSH: <drumming his fingers on the deck> You know, I’ll bet you anything this kind of shit didn’t used to happen to Thrall…
So… yeah. That was a thing. More fun than you’re ever going to have without lighting your own head on fire. On the plus side, turns out that whale shark steaks are pretty tasty. Although overall I don’t know if I can recommend them, what with the accompanying side order of moron jackassery. Or do they count that as a garnish? Tough call.
Either way, we should be reaching Pandaria soon. Cross your fingers for no more outbreaks of stupidity.
Monday mailbag
You know, for once I’m glad I put off checking on the latest batch of mail. The way it ended up working out, I just had a bunch of it piled up waiting for attention. (NOT UNLIKE MY GROUPIES, but that’s a story for another day) just in time for the trip back to Pandaria. So, the long boat trip wound up giving me the damn time I needed to finally get around to reading your letters and working up some responses. So, let’s get right into it…
I want to complain about your minions, the kind-of-Orc-twins whose names I didn’t care to remember.
I am a Draenei lady and am deeply worried about their fascination for hooves, or hooftishism as they called it. What if they’re starting a trend? It is annoying enough to deal with the butt fetishists, we don’t need people who will try to lick our hooves on top of that.
Please make sure that they don’t organize meetings to share their passion with their fellows. Think that your daughter too could, one day, be harassed by hooftishists.
Archenon poros,
–Celesti.
Okay, so first of all, Celesti, I’m glad you specified the “kind-of-Orc-twins” part, because if you’d left it at “I have complaints about you minions, whose names I didn’t care enough about to remember,” well, number one, that’d be way too broad to narrow down, and number two, guess what, “minions I don’t care enough about to remember their names” pretty much covers how I feel about a large chunk of my payroll, so, you know, there’s that.
So, yeah. Dontrag and Utvoch. Although… okay, this might be yet another example of the “shit I don’t care enough about to pay attention to” corollary, but I seem to remember hearing somewhere along the line that it’s only one of them who has the weird fascination with hooves. Don’t ask me which one, though. Or which one of them that one is.
But yeah. Those two. Or one of those two. Believe me, this complaint you’re registering is way, way down on the list of reasons why I find them damn annoying. It ranks, I’ll grant you that, but it doesn’t even crack the top five reasons I want to smack them in the head sometimes. And by “sometimes,” I mean three times daily, usually just after meals, with two optional time slots for further smacking in the event I’m having an aggravating day. That is, when I’m not tossing their asses overboard.
Speaking of priorities, actually… Not for nothing, but considering you’re a draenei, I would figure that your biggest complaint about a couple of Horde soldiers wouldn’t be the hoof fetish thing nearly as much as the trying-to-kill-you thing. Where the hell did you even run into those two, that the hoof thing even came up?
Wait. Are you telling me that you crossed paths with these jokers, and they got so preoccupied with their unwholesome hoof thing that they forgot about getting down to some wholesome BLOODSHED?
So yeah. Okay. I think that means it’s time for my 2:00 smacking. Except they’re still kind of preoccupied swimming frantically to keep up with the boat. Guess I’ll just have to above deck and throw stuff at them for the time being.
I’ve been kept up to date with Blackfuse’s time as engineer for the Horde. I knew he’d be a big help as long as you could get him under control. With any luck he’ll give you the big badda-boom hardware you need to blast the Alliance back.
Got a sitrep from the Isle of Giants, by the way. Nazgrim’s got me working on finding some more Zandalari tomes that talk about how to tame and use Dinosaurs. The good news is, I’ve found some, and the more intelligent beastmasters have been putting them to good use; the bad news is, they’re very hard to find, so most of our progress has been capturing and packaging baby raptors and Devilsaurs to send back to the Orgrimmar beast pens. The big and mean ones already grown up have been a chore and a half to even talk to without getting munched, but slowly but surely we’re making progress
One last thing: I’ve heard Zandalari whispers of a really big, really mean Devilsaur who puts Oondasta to shame. I think his name was Thok the Bloodthirsty or something like that. Sounds like your kind of dinosaur, sir, if you catch my drift.
Your man on the ground,
–Grottee Metalbeard, Goblin Shaman
Hey Grottee, glad to hear you made it back down to Pandaria without incident. WISH I COULD SAY THE SAME. HE SAID, WHILE TURNING AN ATTENTIVE EAR TOWARD A PORTHOLE TO LISTEN TO THE PLAINTIVE GROANS OF MORONS SWIMMING.
Glad to hear you guys are making progress with the dinos, and that Nazgrim hasn’t gotten any bright ideas about going off script again. Who knows, maybe that jackass red shirt Steve was the only member of Naz’s crew afflicted with that particular level of jackassery, so we’ll have smooth sailing from here on out. HE SAID, AS IF HE HASN’T BEEN WATCHING HIS STAFF OF MENTAL DEFECTIVES GIVE IT THE OL’ COMMUNITY COLLEGE TRY FOR A COUPLE YEARS NOW. Anyhow, as long as things are coming along. At this point I’m just glad we’re making any progress at all, even if it’s slow, considering the way things have been going, I could swear sometimes our fastest speed was reverse.
As for that Oondasta-trumping devilsaur, I think I remember you mentioning something about it once before. I’m pretty sure I included something about it in the notes I left for Nazgrim, but I guess when he decided to run with that cunning plan that led to ol’ shithead Steve’s untimely demise (maybe the one positive to come out of the whole damn affair), his people weren’t able to locate Thog or whatever, so he just went with the devilsaur that was easier to find.
Which raises a question. If this Thunk dino is as big and bad as you’re saying, Grottee, how the hell does it manage to be elusive? I mean, how the fuck does a DEVILSAUR pull off STEALTHY? Is there a goddamn sauropod ROGUE TRAINER down there teaching them to go WHOOSH WHOOSH MOSTLY TRANSPARENT? Do they, like, hold a piece of a shrub in front of themselves in their doofy little front claws with a fucking sign that says “Just a shrub, move along, citizen”? Hell, it’s not even like the Isle of Giants is a big place, from what they tell me — there couldn’t be THAT many places to hide. How the hell does this motherfucker manage to fucking ELUDE everyone?!
My apologies for the difficulties with Golmash last week. I’m afraid his behaviour caught even me off-guard. I was afraid that wolf would be the death of me, but instead it seems he was the death of one of your beastmasters.
At any rate, since his dramatic departure from my pens, I have been having strange and frightening dreams. In them, I am standing at the entrance to my home on a dark night, when a horrifying sight appears before me – a ghostly orc, his face twisted and scarred, his eyes glowing with terrible power. I hear him speaking to me in a ghastly, croaky voice, but I have no idea what he is saying. His words sound like Orcish, but mean nothing to me. The only thing that clearly comes across is that he is angry, as he grabs me by the shirt and shakes me while screaming in his unknown tongue.
I have no idea what is causing these dreams or what they mean, but they are connected to Golmash somehow. I just know it. Whatever comes of this, Warchief, I only hope it happens quickly, for these dreams are stripping my nights of much-needed sleep.
Your humble servant,
–Ogunaro Wolfrunner, Kennel Master
Hey Ogunaro. Good to hear from you. Even if you’re… you know… dealing with… well… this thing. And… well… um… you know what, O? I’m going to ask you to do me a favor here and just skip the next paragraph. I just remembered I, um, I need to insert some stuff that I meant to include in a previous letter and I, uh, I can’t just scroll up and insert while I’m typing this… um… well, because… because, oh come on, you know me and computers, right? I can’t even remember where the damn delete key is, and here I am on a boat without Spazzle around to fix this crap for me, oh woe is me, and ANYWAY that’s not even the point, the point is, see, that this extra stuff I need to insert has nothing to do with you but I really need to get it written down before I forget, because scatterbrained me, oops, you know how it goes, but I don’t want to bother you with it ’cause I know you already have enough on your plate what with, you know, the thing. So just do me a solid and skip that next paragraph so I don’t need to worry about you, and pick up again right AFTER that, right where it says “MELLIFLUOUS.” So there. Go to it. Skip starting… now.
Okay. So you guys, we need to talk. I didn’t want O listening in on this, because, you know, we — like the you and me “we,” not the Ogunaro and me “we,” and FUCK YOU PRONOUN AMBIGUITY — we have a history, and we’re cool and shit, but I don’t even know what dude’s deal is, you know? And you probably already know where I’m going with this, right? Because I’m starting to get that vibe that our buddy Ogunaro, I mean I like him all and I appreciate the work he does, but I’m starting to get the feeling like he’s one of THOSE guys. You know how I mean? Those guys where there’s ALWAYS fucking SOMETHING, like one goddamn thing after another and after a while you can’t even tell where the real crises are because EVERYTHING gets the ol’ emergency blinker cranked up to fucking eleven. Is it just me? It’s his whole goddamn family, too, near as I can tell. Well, the alive ones, anyway. But who can even say for sure on that one, either, because necromancy, motherfucker. Fingers crossed. So anyway, I just had to say something to you guys because we have a thing, but I’m for real not going to know what to do with this dude if this shit keeps up. Okay. That’s it. Don’t say anything to him. Sshh, here he comes.
MELLIFLUOUS. Which is a goddamn awesome word, by the way. Try it out sometime. And if you get a chance to have Nazgrim say it, you totally have to. He knows how to sell that shit, man. Anyway. Welcome back, O. See, wasn’t that a lot faster and easier and less insulting than having to wade through a bunch of other stuff that you definitely weren’t interested in? Hot damn, good thing I wrote it all down before I forgot, hell I don’t even remember what it was NOW. GOT IN THERE JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME, O. THAT WAS A FUCKING CLOSE ONE.
Anyhow, yeah, O, that’s some freaky shit in that dream. I can’t say I’m much of an expert in making sense of what dreams mean, though. Maybe there’s something to this dream with the ghostly visitor, maybe it’s got something to do with Golmash, maybe not. If it has something to do with the wolf, we’ll figure it out, especially now that we’ve got him secured and under close observation. If not… well, we’ll see. It might be worth getting some feedback from a shaman or two, just the same. And for the time being, just to make sure you can get a little sleep without going bonkers, maybe it’s a good idea to see if you can get something from an apothecary to help you sleep a little deeper. Just don’t take anything from an apothecary with a recently refurbished jaw who’s really sarcastic all the time, because trust me, there’s no telling what he might have slipped into that shit.
I am researching the cultures of the Horde, especially naming customs. Most of the Forsaken kept the human names we were born with. A few decided to adopt new names but most of those were pretty grimdark and silly. The less said about them the better.
What naming customs do the Orcs have? Are family names passed through the father? the mother? Does you’re name mean something?
Curiously yours –
–Ickabod Pimlen, The Undercity.
Thanks for writing, Ickabod. Although, whew. “Ickabod Pimlen.” Not to be shitty to you right out the gate, Ickabod, but as long as there was already a thing going where some of the Forsaken picked a new name for themselves, I mean, maybe you should have looked into that. “Pimlen” was already not exactly a winner of a last name, but your parents really decided to top that off by naming you “Ickabod” to boot? Seriously? Yeesh, and people call ME a war criminal…
Anyway, now for your question, Ickabod. Naming customs aren’t consistent across the whole orcish race — like most of our customs and traditions naming varies with the individual clans. For instance, some clans, like the Frostwolves, rarely take on surnames. The Thunderlord clan usually does, on the other hand, and they pass those along generation to generation. Typically, but not always, patrilineally. (THAT’S RIGHT, PATRILINEALLY, MOTHERFUCKER, STOP LOOKING SURPRISED THAT I KNOW FUCKING WORDS.)
With some clans, though, last names are given in recognition of some sort of accomplishment. That’s how it works in the Warsong clan, for instance. My grandfather, Golmash (we’ve been hearing that name a lot lately, huh?), gained the name Hellscream for the battle cry he brought into a long string of victorious battles, and he passed that name on to Grommash, who passed it on to me.
Only, there’s a catch — see, in clans that use these names as a kind of honorific, there can only be one person at a time using it. So back when Golmash was alive, you wouldn’t talk about Golmash Hellscream AND Grom Hellscream. There can only be one Hellscream. That was Golmash, until he died. After that, his oldest child (in this case, his only child) could take on the name. I didn’t start using the full name until after I found out about Grom’s death — if you ran into me in Nagrand back in the day (and for your sake I hope you didn’t, because hoo boy was I an emo piece of work back then), I was just going by Garrosh.
Same thing for the Blackrock clan, by the way. Rend Blackhand was just plain ol’ Rend until daddy Blackhand (did dude ever actually have a NAME name, by the way?) bought it, just like Orgrim Doomhammer didn’t become Doomhammer until after his father Telkar died. Ditto for the Saurfangs, by the way, even though that one got a little muddier. See, while Dranosh was growing up with me in Nagrand, no one really knew what had become of Varok, but it was a pretty wide-held idea that he’d probably died. Dranosh wasn’t really sure what to believe, but he wanted to honor the family name… but he also wasn’t really sure if his old man had actually joined the ancestors. So he kind of half-wayed it and started calling himself “Saurfang the Younger.” After the family got reunited a few years back, we just kind of kept calling them both Saurfang in one way or another, just out of habit. Moot point now, I know.
Oh and since you asked, my name means “warrior’s heart” in orcish. (I won’t offer to explain what “Dranosh” means, though, because fuck it, I’m pretty sure we’ve all been over that enough times already.)
So THERE. I bet that’s more about orcish names than you ever wanted to know. EXCEPT FOR ICKABOD, WHO ASKED ABOUT IT IN THE FIRST PLACE, SO IF YOU’RE GONNA COMPLAIN TO ANYBODY, DO IT WITH HIM, DAMMIT.
I apologize for not finding the Command Board sooner, as you know I actually found it by accident. After talking with some friends I found out that they didn’t know about it either. Then I went to Orgrimar to see if I could find an Advertising Department. Unfortunately the guards that seem to know everything, except if something is on level one or two, did not know of this department.
Because of this I volunteer to be your Advertising Department. Here is the first line of merchandise that I came up with: Tabards. Most people wear them, especially those “adventurers” and we know that they will pay near anything if it looks cool. The other day I saw one buy a baby raptor for 100000 gold. Luckily there are less insane groups we can market to as well, shop keepers and flight masters will wear them as well as many military groups, Liadrin has all of us Blood Knights wear ours at all times.
But I can hear many people saying what will be on these tabards. Good thing I thought of that. So far I have ideas for three tabards all with the Warcheif’s Command Board on the back. First we have “Buy our shit, OR BE CRUSHED BENEATH IT!” with a picture of an orc buried under a ton of merchandise. Then there is “Fuck You Varian”, self explanitory. And finally EPIC VERSE with many of your epic verses all over the tabard.
Unfortunately I don’t have an artistic bone in my body and I haven’t found anyone that does so I can’t give you any visuals of the tabards. If you give me the go ahead on this I can get to work on new techniques by next month.
–Glen Bloodblade
Hey, Glen, glad to hear from you again. So, I’m going to excuse you for not following the blog until recently, even though we both know you already should have been following the blog before you found it accidentally. In fact, what the hell is this “accidentally” shit? You should have found it DELIBERATELY, as a result of PURPOSEFULLY SEARCHING for a blog you didn’t know existed. Because you could feel it in your bones, Glen. You could feel it in your bones.
Anyway, I’m going to let that slide. Just don’t do it again. Yes, I just told you not to not find the blog that you’re currently reading, again, which might sound like a weird thing to warn someone not to do, until you stop for a second to consider the crazy-ass world we live in, because FUCKING TIME TRAVEL. All I’m gonna tell you, Glen, is if you see any bronze dragons coming your way, or maybe a blood elf lady in a bikini dress, well, you just get ready to think fast is all I’m going to say.
Anyhow. You know, Glen, you might be on to something. After your last letter, I did some checking around, and the fact of the matter is that we don’t have a department in charge of publicity or advertising or whatever. Which I guess makes sense, since it turns out that the Kor’kron aren’t exactly in the habit of making public announcements about what they’re doing. At least not if they know what’s good for them.
Now, to tell you the truth, I hadn’t really given a lot of thought to advertising the blog. I mean, I always figured people would just find their way to the blog however people do shit like that on the internet. And I remember having a conversation with Faranell once about it maybe going viral. Although, looking back on it now, considering it WAS Faranell, I think I might have severely misunderstood what he was meant. I maybe shouldn’t think about that too much.
But back to your real point. You may be right — it might be a good idea to come up with ways to drive some more traffic to the blog. And here’s the thing — your tabard idea could actually be even more of a winner than you realize, because check it out, it opens the door not only for ADVERTISING, but also… MERCHANDISING. Tabards sound like a great way to start, and they’ll sure as hell get the word around, but who knows how much other stuff we could get into. Hell, even just with the tabards, if we produce a bunch of different versions, do you REALIZE how many compulsive collectors are out there who will go fucking NUTS trying to hunt down every last variation? Dude, I’ve seen it myself — people burning up hours of time and mountains of gold to try to land themselves, say, a scorpid pet that’s a SLIGHTLY different color than the seven scorpid pets they ALREADY FRIGGING HAVE. I can only imagine what some of them would do for the RARE CHASE VARIANT of the Garrosh blog tabard. Wait, did I say “rare”? FUCK THAT SHIT — EPIC!
So, yeah, HELL YEAH, run with this idea, Glen. You have some ideas, go for it, man. And hey, for that matter, I know you said you haven’t got any artistic skills, but AS IT HAPPENS, I may just have an in with some people who DO. Not just in-house, either, if you were thinking of Gurtash — WHO YOU WOULD BE RIGHT TO THINK. OF. — but even among the ranks of my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS. I’ll bet you anything that there are people among the CLEARLY TALENTED AND DISCRIMINATING CROWD that reads the Warchief’s Command Board who would be ONLY TOO HAPPY to offer their own artsy-fartsy designs for WCB tabards. ESPECIALLY WHEN I ORDER THEM TO AND REMIND THEM THAT I HAVE A TECH GOBLIN HACKER WHO’S ABLE TO TRACE IP’S. WHICH I TOTALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE BUT HE DOES AND THAT’S WHAT COUNTS, OKAY?
And on that note, I think it’s time to wrap it up for this mailbag. Keep those letters coming as always. For next time, though, since I’m going to be pretty swamped with stuff in Pandaria, I managed to convince Shayari to hold down the fort again for the next mailbag. So, write in to her, or still write in to me for the next time I’m able to field your letters myself. Either way, write SOMETHING. Ideally MULTIPLE somethings. I WILL BE TAKING DOCUMENTARY ATTENDANCE, MOTHERFUCKERS.
More soon.
[PROGRAMMING NOTE: As you can tell from Garrosh’s announcement, the next mailbag will be a guest mailbag with Shayari. However, I also wanted to announce that I’ve decided to take a short break at the end of the month that will affect the upcoming mailbag schedule. As many of you will remember, the last few years I’ve taken a blogging break late in the summer due to a busy work schedule; this year, I’ve decided to move that hiatus up to earlier in the summer and use some of that time to get material in the pipeline.
So, blog hijinks will continue as usual through the end of May, then we’ll be off for a few weeks. Then, on July 11 (since the first Monday in July this year is a holiday, I figured there was no harm in pushing it back for one more week), we’ll be back with Shayari’s guest mailbag, and from there we’ll be off and running.
As always, thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, and contributing!]
Lyrical leftovers
Did I say that was the LAST dose of reader-prompted poetry-month-honoring EPIC VERSE you were getting treated to? WELL GUESS WHAT, MOTHERFUCKERS, I just took a cursory look at my handy desk calendar, the one where I would note down everybody’s birthday if I actually gave half a fuck, and THE MONTH ISN’T OVER YET. So even though it’s too damn late for you lazy scrubs to send in a poem of your own for the INTERNET FAME AND RECOGNITION YOU DON’T EVEN REMOTELY DESERVE BUT ARE GOING TO WIND UP GETTING ANYWAY BECAUSE THANKS GARROSH, there’s still time to grab one more of these submissions from the pile and treat you to one more of dose of awesome.
Because I’m a giver. And because I underpromise and overdeliver. And also because I’m still stuck on this damn boat heading down to Pandaria and if I don’t find something vaguely productive to do then it’s just a matter of time before SOMEONE on this boat starts to look irresistibly breakable.
So, speaking of people I would relish snapping into a couple hundred very tiny pieces (admittedly, this isn’t exactly an exclusive club), today’s reader poem comes from… <sigh>… spirits help us… Dontrag and Utvoch.
So… you know… not too much else for me to say about that. Let’s get this over with.
ONE MEAN, TOO MEAN.
We Mean Hellscream
By Sargeant Dontrag
And Grunt Utvoch
One mean, too mean
Garrosh Hellscream.
We mean you’re mean.
Too mean, we scream.
One mean, too mean.
Not share, no fair.
Don’t care anywhere.
Only care lemon square.
One mean, too mean
Slam door, stomp floor.
Settle score once more.
Nevermore Theramore.
One mean, too mean
One joke, two pokes.
Two blokes, slowpokes.
Two strokes, both croaks.
(Not yet, anyway)
One mean, too mean.
Not green, it seem.
You preen, ladies scream.
Umpteen, it’s obscene.
One mean, too mean.
Even seem little teen.
Figurine mean machine.
Femineene Hellscream.
Umm.
One mean, too mean.
Bell cursed, orcs worst.
Wrynn dispersed, left in hearse.
Got a nurse, death reversed.
Uh.
One mean, too mean.
Poor Steve, we grieve.
We leave before peeve.
Eve receive heave cleave.
Bye.
So… I suppose… I mean, I don’t even… Yeah. Fine. So there’s that.
It bears noting, by the way? That poem required two people to write.
Meanwhile, returning to the land of the not-stupid who can scrape together a few rhymes without needing to hold a conference, time for me to offer my… response. Which… yeah. I don’t really see this ending well, but here goes.
One herp, two derp.
Lunchtime, slurp burp.
No twirp usurp
Kings of herp-derp.
One herp, two derp.
Birdbrain, my bane.
Their brain: shit stain.
My pain? Explain:
One herp, two derp.
See me at sea.
Trainee runs free;
As for me? Can’t flee.
One herp, two derp.
Their insane word chain.
I complain; migrane;
Profane; bloodstain.
One herp, two derp.
Three smacks (four max).
Rage stacks, bone cracks,
My axe cleaves sacks.
One herp, two derp.
Each goon a buffoon.
Both hewn by noon.
Harpoon: death soon.
One herp, two derp.
Abhorred; need sword.
Kick toward Howling Fjord,
Thrown, soared, overboard.
One herp, two derp.
One blast from mast;
Ship fast; they’ve passed,
Distance vast; peace at last.
BYE MOTHERFUCKING BYE, MOTHERFUCKERS.
EPIC VERSE!
I mean, not that I should ever be surprised when Dumb and Dumber do something idiotic, but they REALLY didn’t think this one through, seeing as they sent me their… their… verbal equivalent of brain cancer, KNOWING full well they were going to be on a ship with me where there would be very few places to hide or run away.
Oh well. At least they get to practice their swimming now. For the entire rest of the trip. STOP YOUR BITCHING, JACKASSES, SWIMMING IS HEALTHY. Especially when the alternative to swimming is being on a boat with someone who’s liable to fucking MURDER you.
So. That wraps up this edition of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge for real. Thanks and congrats to everyone who contributed, all that stuff, whatever. I’m sure I’ll be throwing down some more EPIC VERSE soon enough just because. Or EPIC TALES of my EPIC LIFE. Or if you-know-who and you-know-who-else decide to try to crawl back on board, maybe EPIC RECAPS of me giving an EPIC BEATING to a couple EPIC PAINS in my EPIC ASS.
Okay, enough of that crap. Time to go up on deck and… I don’t know… be bored looking at the same view of the ocean I’ve been staring at this whole trip. Or listen to the Wonder Twins bickering about how to do a breaststroke. Or both. Ugh.
Water water everywhere, I think I need a drink.
