Tag Archives: poetry
Count Your Blessings
Okay, so, while I was brainstorming ideas for this last installment of EPIC VERSE, I put a call out on Twitter for suggestions, and you people stepped up with a bunch of options…
And I figured, why the fuck not, let’s just DO THEM ALL. IN ONE POEM.
Here we go. STRAP IN, BITCHES.
Last time around, we got started with promise
Then fizzled out. You were here, though. You saw this.
But now I’m giving it just one more trial,
Recounting things that make your Warchief smile.
You might be skeptical there’s such a list;
Maybe your guess is that I’m always pissed.
Yeah, well, try spending a year with this crew —
Your long fuse will become much shorter, too.
Anyway, never mind. Yeah, fuck that noise.
We won’t be dwelling on shit that annoys.
Forget about all that, and in its place
Let’s look at what brings a smile to my face.
Wyverns are awesome, dude, there’s no discounting.
None moreso than the one I’m epic-mounting.
Mortimer brings chimaeras to their knees;
So badass even the druid agrees.
After a wyvern ride, back home to quaff a
Giant-sized tankard of Pandaren kafa.
Say what you want, but those pandas are keen
When it comes time to deliver caffeine.
And while the kafa’s hot, Kor’kron chef’s makin’
Forty-three pounds of thick-cut hellboar bacon.
After all that, appetite’s undiminished;
While there are boars still left, breakfast ain’t finished.
Google more “Garrosh likes“ and the result is
Dead humans, dead gnomes, and dead Twilight cultists.
Also dead Grimtotem, Magatha’s kin;
Call me when she’s caught and torture begins.
You know I love when a plan comes together.
(It rarely does with these goons, but whatever.)
Rarer still from the minions I’ve collected:
When my authority’s actually respected.
Now, with my trainees, their loyalty’s ample;
I wish more grown-ups followed their example.
Good thing this training gig’s plenty rewarding —
Easy’s to teaching as brief is to Fordring.
DPS kids are heroes on the rise.
(Gurtash needs work, but at least, hey, he tries.)
Lethal from day one; this much, let’s agree on:
Nobody’s missing a bunch of dead peons.
Ruekie tries hard even when things go south,
Effortlessly puts her foot in her mouth.
Already haste-buffed; one day she’ll go mental
Summoning her own kafa elemental.
Korrina’s deadly when she gets attacked;
Bane to the lizards — now that’s a #SaurFact.
Snapping off Ruekie’s fork just to eat noodles
(Captured forever in Gurtash’s doodles).
Gurtash was first of them I brought on board.
Draws comics better than he draws his sword.
Kid’s got to work on becoming more skilled.
He’ll toughen up (if he doesn’t get killed…).
Giska’s kung fu punches make your face swell up;
Kulkesh is… let’s face it… underdeveloped.
They’ll have more missions, they’ll win with panache
(So long as they don’t end up like Lok’osh).
Let’s send the kids home; this part’s not PG.
’Cause you know hashtag-TheLadiesLoveMe.
Trust me, the fact that my minions are noobs
Ain’t the lone way I’m surrounded by boobs.
You’ve seen my mailbags and Twitter replies;
Tip of the iceberg, between you and I.
They flock to Orgrimmar at my behest,
Putting the groupie in epic group quest.
That’s me, inspiring a fawning persona —
Uukra and Wega, Zaela and Garona.
Rak and Aranya, Thalassian Brandi,
One thing in common: /waggle gets them randy.
One shirtless /flex and they’re looking for action;
Gathering round, irregardless of faction.
So, who to pick when I’m looking for love?
Maybe I’ll go with D) All the above.
But even while a near harem is swirling,
There’s one girl from whom I want no fangirling:
Normally I might be lewd, even sleazy,
But that Sylvanas just makes me uneasy.
Even when mannered, she always seems dicey;
Hot on the outside, sure; inside, she’s icy.
At least one fish in the sea I’d throw back;
LadiesLoveGarrosh — he don’t love ’em all back.
EPIC VERSE!
[That does it for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge for this time around! Just a reminder, I’ll be taking a short break for the next couple of weeks due to hectic real-life goings-on, but after that, we’ll be back again with a weekly Wednesday installment, starting May 20!]
Look on the Bright Side
[Yes, I know, a day late… but better late EPIC VERSE than no EPIC VERSE at all, right?]
Some of you might want to ask
Why I always take to task
Blundering
Underlings
In my EPIC VERSE.
“Surely, Garrosh,” you might claim,
“All of them can’t be so lame!
Maybe sad;
Not that bad!”
Actually, they’re worse.
Hey, but let’s not dwell on griping;
Asswipes always be asswiping.
But instead,
Go ahead —
Brace yourself for this one:
Just this once, no bleak opinions —
Singing praises of my minions!
What’s that look?
Yeah, it took
Some trying to get this done.
I wish half my minions had been
Half as able as Liadrin.
That’s my loss;
Blood Knight boss,
Scholar and tactician.
Even when our plans have blown up,
She’s the one who’s been the grown-up:
Keeps her shit,
Handles it,
Closes out the mission.
Mokvar — brains and skill? He passes.
Never respecs; he reclasses:
Warlock days,
Shaman’s ways,
Back to lock he varied.
Churns out transcripts smooth and slickly;
Don’t know how he writes so quickly.
Dude, respect.
Just reject
That human that you married.
Spazzle’s useless in a battle,
But tech problems? Well now that’ll
Be his game.
Just the same,
Dude is such a peewee.
But I’m s’posed to keep my focus
On the positive; that bloke is
Handy for
Fixing your
Wireless network D/C’s.
Give Sylvanas this much credit:
No endeavor makes her sweat it.
Cool as ice,
Once or twice
She’s risen from disaster.
(Still, sometimes her smug beseeming
Makes me wonder what she’s scheming.
Hopefully
One day we
Won’t have to outcast her…)
Lor’thewhatshisname is… spiffy.
Picks your drapes out in a jiffy.
Hair care tips,
Table flips,
Hands out quest-gold proceeds.
He would make an awesome spy;
Everyone forgets this guy.
Stroll right in,
Walk out, win,
SI:7 — no leads.
Ji’s your guy in case you want to
Empty out a pantry pronto.
Skills he’s got —
When he’s not
Busy eating pocky.
Baine is… okay, now we’re straining.
All he’s good at is complaining.
I suppose
Tauren goes
Well with teriyaki.
D&U… Okay, I’m trying.
Cut some slack, I’m up here dying.
I began
With a plan
That might not be appeased.
Yeah, that’s all the lines I’m inking.
I don’t know what I was thinking —
Blood and bone
From a stone
Just cannot be squeezed.
EPIC VERSE!
Shipwreck Me Twice, Shame on Me
When Nazgrim the legionnaire
Took over the captain’s chair,
With his new commission
He went on a mission
But he never made it there.
His vessel, instead, went splat
When it ran into Ozumat.
It floated no more;
To the ocean floor
It sunk and then that was that.
Nazgrim survived in Vashj’ir
And came home to Orgrimmar here;
Two more years in the bank,
A general’s rank
I granted the brigadier.
When we found a new land cloaked in mist,
I gave Nazgrim Hellscream’s Fist;
He had one command:
To go seize this land.
But then came the frustrating twist.
With the mists of Pandaria clearing,
Nazgrim somehow still had trouble steering:
He made his air skiff glide
Right into the cliffside.
I tell you, this quirk ain’t endearing.
So given two ships, Nazgrim wrecked ’em.
You might wonder, why would I select ’im?
My options aren’t packed; he
Was best of my lackeys
Who mostly have heads up their rectums.
But Nazgrim? A brain? Yeah, he’s got one.
He’ll step up for the jobs that are not fun.
And in times souls are tried,
He’ll ride in by your side —
Just make sure that you make him ride shotgun.
EPIC VERSE!
More EPICness in a few days… don’t forget to give suggestions in the comments for what other LYRICAL MASTERPIECES you’d like to see from your Warchief. Topics, opening lines, whatever comes to mind. YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS.
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.
The Return of (the) Garrosh (Poetry Challenge)
So yes, Averry is still alive! (At least for now.)
I had originally planned to add an OOC note in parentheses after the previous post (If you haven’t read that one yet, what are you doing here reading my prattling? Priorities, people!), but somehow it seemed like the closing bit would have lost something if it wasn’t really, y’know, the closing bit. So here I am to give you a second appearance in one night!
Which… I suppose still doesn’t make up for literal years since the last time I wrote something here. The force of inertia will do that to you. While I’ve worked on material for the blog in fits and starts since things went quiet around here, the reality is that once I got out of the habit of posting, it became all too easy to let things stay that way. So for those of you who are still out there even noticing a new blip on the radar, thank you.
But, as Garrosh himself said moments ago, under the new circumstances we’re all living under, it seems like we could all do with a little extra diversion and distraction, and what could be more entertaining (for me especially) than to slip back into the boisterous voice of everyone’s favorite long-deposed Warchief? (Although now we’ve gotten to the point where I need to make sure I’m being clear about which deposed Warchief I’m talking about. Yeesh.) Especially since April is National Poetry Month, which gives me an excuse to dust off Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge as a warmup.
So, here’s the plan: from now until the end of April, the Warchief will be posting a new installment of EPIC VERSE every Tuesday and Friday. As always with these poetry challenges, he’s going to need help from all of you, so fill up that comment section with suggestions – anything from specific topics to opening lines to kickstart the poem. Anything goes, and I’ll try to make use of as many of the suggestions as I can, but do try to keep it fun – remember, the spirit of the exercise is less “a somber meditation on existential despair” and more “There once was a gnome from Mudsprocket”!
That will take us through April. The first week or so in May is going to be a busy one for me, so I know that I won’t have time to give the blog a lot of attention, but after that, the plan is to post every Wednesday going forward – Warchief Wednesday, as it were! (And for anyone worried that it’ll feel weird to have mailbags not be on Monday, don’t worry; Monday Mailbag will stay in place, and those weeks you’ll just get a second post for the week!)
So, yes, that means you’ll soon get to resume the ongoing and ridiculous adventures of our very particular version of the big ol’ Mag’har lug. Spirits help us all.
One last note in closing: I have a small favor to ask. Since the last time I posted on the blog, there have been a lot of changes in WordPress that forced me to spend a fair bit of time reassembling the site. (Among other things, some of the WordPress changes broke the theme I was using, which I had heavily modified in the first place, and… well, let’s just say it was time-consuming and not fun.) I’m pretty sure I’ve fixed all the major issues, but I’m also sure I’ve probably missed a few odds and ends, so if you could just click around a little and just see if you notice anything that looks off, I’d appreciate it. Nothing major, just maybe link your way through a few pages, pull up a handful of old posts, that kind of thing, to help with shakedown. Also, I’ve added a new plugin to manage comments on posts, so feedback on any bugs that need working out there would be welcome, too.
As always, thank you for sticking around… or rather, for coming back again. More soon!
I mean it this time.
Averry
Tales of the Earth Online-pocalypse
Well you know how I kill time
On that game called Earth Online
In a nightmare future world that’s purely human.
But my gaming’s been derailed
And my login time curtailed
’Cause recently a freakish techie threat’s been loomin’.
Seems some hacker was desirous
Of a vile computer virus
To completely undermine our in-game doin’s.
Well then, grats on that one, bastard,
’Cause you’ve definitely mastered
The fine art of leaving our whole game in ruins.
See, the way that this thing works
Is some shut-in virgin jerks
Planted coding in the game to skulk in hiding;
There was no direct disruption,
Not a hunt of file corruption,
Till it picked a toon or two and went out riding.
So some unsuspecting losers
Logged on just like any users,
Never knowing that their character was tainted;
While they quested and hard-moded,
The damn virus got downloaded —
Five days later, their computer blue-screen fainted.
Hold on tight — the plot gets thicker.
Now here comes the goddamn kicker —
In those five days up until the time bomb blew,
Infested players kept on playing
And to all nearby conveying
The damn virus… so they downloaded it, too.
So the virus started rolling.
And this shit went way past trolling —
People’s hard drives got wiped out by this damn griefer.
And you’d think the circumstances
Could be managed, but your chances
Would be better making Tirion be briefer.
Everybody knew the danger:
Keep your character at range or
You might give the virus more room to disperse.
Just stay back a couple yards!
But of course, some fucking tards
Just kept partying and making matters worse.
Now the player base was scattered
And some raiding guilds were shattered
’Cause the spreading of the virus wasn’t random.
And the sole hope of resistance
Was on antisocial distance,
Separating the whole Earth Online game fandom.
Hubs have emptied by default;
Raiding’s ground down to a halt;
In-game economics slowed to nearly nix —
Save for this one wallet-raper
Auction-housing toilet paper.
(Hmm, I wonder if that fucker’s Gallywix…)
Now for all my dire opining
I’ll admit, one silver lining
Has come out of all this virtual disarray:
’Cause this viral infestation
Gives me more justification
To tell D&U to stay the fuck away.
Now this whole thing’s leaving me stunned
(Plus I better get a refund…)
There’s no precedent for this mess to compare to.
And those devs had better reckon
That I’ll bash their fucking neck in
If they try to keep my money (if they dare to).
But there’s still a bigger issue:
Earth Online’s fucked up; you wish you
Could keep playing, but for now it’s off the menu.
For your downtime fun and mirth
There’s no more roaming ’round on Earth —
We’re all stuck in Azeroth’s boring old venue.
So for spiritual sustainment,
You all need new entertainment!
While this EO lockdown goes from bad to worse,
All my followers and minions
Need more musings and opinions!
And above all, I know you need
OH OH HEY HANG ON A SECOND, I know EXACTLY what I can compare this whole fucking mess to — you remember that whole deal right at the start of the Northrend campaign, when that zombie plague broke out, like out of fucking NOWHERE? You know, there were all those weird crates turning up out of nowhere, and the fucking syphilitic roaches and shit, and next thing you knew, people were running around breathing zombie stank all over each other, and then they would croak, and, you know, good riddance ’cause FUCK THAT PLAGUE-CARRYING ASSHOLE, only it just kept spreading and spreading? Remember how fucked up that shit was?
Yeah, so, this is a lot like that. Only I guess it was worse then, because back then people were getting plagued for real, and this Earth Online thing is just a game.
On the other hand, back then, I hadn’t just sunk a shit-ton of gold into a new badass gaming rig that I DON’T GET TO USE NOW, so, you know, who’s to say which is the real tragedy? You be the judge.
Anyway, I… okay, where was I? Oh yeah…
…EPIC VERSE!
But yeah, I know you people need some kind of entertainment to fill your empty lives, now that Earth is all fucked up and shit, and you can’t go running there and hiding from, you know, the aforementioned empty lives that I mentioned. So yeah. Stay tuned. YOUR WARCHIEF’S GOT YOUR BACK, MOTHERFUCKERS.
Well, that attempt to digitize the blight didn’t go nearly as planned. Oh well, unlive and learn. ~_^
Monday GUEST mailbag: Spazzle
Hey, what’s up? It’s me, Spazzle, filling in for Garrosh for this month’s mailbag, seeing he’s all busy and preoccupied down in Pandaria. I’m sure he’ll be back soon to take over again, but in the meantime, let’s see what you guys have to say!
Do you have any suggestions for good investments? Something with a quick turnaround would be ideal. I need to get some money together for the sake of my kneecaps and you seem like someone who would be in the know.
My kneecaps thank you,
–Razlak Cro of the Brawlers
Hey Razlak. Sorry to hear about the kneecaps. Honestly it sounds like the best investment for you might be some extra armor and maybe a little protection to help fend off the goons when they come for you. Not a fun situation, I know. I had some troubles of my own from some online poker, and take it from me, your IP address is not something you can mask if the goons mean business.
Anyway, as far as real investment go… hmmm. I mean, it’s hard to find a for-sure quick turnaround. Mostly those are pretty big gambles, and I got the feeling that gambles were what got you in this spot in the first place. But if you want to put your money into something, how about this — Demons-B-Gone demon repellent. Which, okay, I have a controlling stake in… you know, my little personal business, Fizzletrinket Enterprises. So I suppose I’m a little biased. But still! It’s a market that still hasn’t been tapped for a product that there’s definitely a market for! And sure, there are already demon repellents out there, so you might figure it’s not a good investment because those never really took off, but there’s a reason for that — those other ones are really, really bad!
I didn’t even know much about the demon repellent market until Mokvar started having his whole problem last year, and so that got me looking into it and thinking how handy it would be if there was a version of the product that actually worked. Not like Fell-Off, which barely even keeps imps off of you, or Demon-Offa-Me, which leaves that oily residue on you that smells like crap. That’s the only reason it works at all, by the way. That awful smell. So if you’ve got a demon that doesn’t care about smells — which let’s be serious, how many of them really do, because pit lord stink am I right? — or one that just isn’t picking up on odors very much because it’s hayfever season or something, well, you’re just out of luck. And at that point, it’s not even demon repellent so much as just… well… everyone repellent. It might keep some demons away from you, fine, but it’s also going to keep everybody else away from you. At that point, why even bother?
Anyhow, Mokvar’s whole situation got me looking into this stuff, and since there wasn’t really a good option out there, I figured this was a good opportunity for some Bilgewater ingenuity! So I put some alchemists together, and… well, you don’t really need to know all the nuts and bolts about how the sausage gets made, right? (By the way, if you think that was a mixed metaphor, you definitely don’t know how they make sausage in Kezan!) Bottom line is, we’ve got some killer demon repellent hitting the market soon, just as soon as Mokvar gets back in town and I can schmooze him into being my guinea pig — er, I mean, my well-compensated field tester. And you just know there’s always going to be a market for a product like this! So why not get in on the ground floor while the stock options are still reasonably cheap? Just you watch, all I need is for that Wrathion guy to answer my letters about an endorsement, and we’ll be off to the races!
What? Oh come on — as if Garrosh never used the blog for self-promotion! Pfft.
This is a most unexpected opportunity. Recently I wrote to your employer to ask about Orc naming customs. I have been doing research you see, for a book on the cultures of the Horde. So the Goblins have any customs for their names? You for instance have a rather interesting one, yourself. And very Goblin-sounding if I might say as an outside observer.
Curiously awaiting your reply,
–Iackabod Pimlen, The Undercity.
You know, I don’t think I ever noticed this when it was Garrosh or Shayari fielding letters, but these mailbags really do get a lot of random questions, don’t they?
Anyhow! Hey, Ickabod, what’s up. We goblins don’t have a ton of naming customs, really. We definitely don’t have customary or traditional names — like you notice among humans and, by extension, Forsaken, there are a lot of common names. Jane, and Thomas, and Mary, and… well, not Ickabod, really, because huh. But you get the idea! There are a lot of names that get used frequently. You know, I wonder if that has anything to do with which races tend to have surnames. Like maybe the surnames were created more by races that tend to repeat the same names, so they could have a second name to help tell people apart? So for instance, the blood elves almost always have last names, but the trolls almost never do. But then if you look at troll names, they seem really unique, so I guess there wasn’t much need for surnames since, you know, you never really have cases where you find yourself going “Zen’zikkabala? Which Zen’zikkabala do you mean?”
I think I just got off on a tangent there. Maybe I think about things too much. But, okay, back from the tangent, and on to the perpendicular! So we can come full circle!
Get it? Tangent to a circle? Perpendicular? 🙂
(Note to self: save the geometry jokes for poker night with the Gob Squad.)
So yeah, names. Like I was saying, we don’t really have any traditional names. Lots of times, parents will make up a first name, and a lot of those times, it ends up being based at least a little on whatever mechanical sounds they tend to hear a lot in their workshop or around their town or wherever. That’s probably why our names tend to have a lot of Z’s. Or… you know… splodey sounds. I suppose if we have any naming traditions at all, they’re sort of onomatopoetic ones.
At least as far as given names go. For our surnames — and this definitely isn’t universal, but still — a lot of our family names trace back to past technical accomplishments with that family. or, usually, non-accomplishments. See, if you look at a lot of goblin names — Gearslip, Noggenfogger, even names like mine and Khizzara’s: Fizzletrinket and Whizzingcrank — lots of them pretty much refer to some part of an invention that didn’t really work. The gear that slipped out of place, or the crank that’s whizzing because it’s not aligned right, or the potion that’s got the wrong balance of ingredients in it so when you drink it it makes your noggin feel all foggy. For a long time back in the old days in Kezan, when somebody had something blow up in their face that way — sometimes literally — it was pretty common for the other goblins to pin a name on them that reminded them of the snafu, and took pains to make sure it stuck.
What can I say? We have a pretty sarcastic culture, when you come right down to it.
So also…
Hmm.
You know, I suppose I shouldn’t really complain about getting responses, considering this isn’t even really my mailbag, but… I mean, would it kill people to send in letters that are like “Dear Spazzle,” as opposed to “oh, hey, a goblin”?
I pondered long and hard over whether this letter should be sent or not, but in truth, I’m not one to pass up the opportunity of friendship when it’s available, even if it IS with a species that I’d consider a tad chaotic, what with the airships that explode ten minutes after take-off 90% of the time, or potions that not only kill you but transform you into an living skeleton. Anything for a few pocketfuls of gold, am I right? Ugh.
Anyhow, you may not have noticed, but we elvenkind are not quite as technological as most. Many of us find magic easier to comprehend than, well, wires and explosives and whatever else it is your existence is devoted on inventing. Although lately I have been taking to the internet. It’s a pretty nice way of keeping in contact with people and keeping up with their lifestyle. Kind of exactly like Warchief Hellscream’s blog, now I think of it! Although I will confess, the connection speed down here in the westerns isn’t really up to date with the cities. I really don’t quite understand why it’s faster in some places and slower in others. Care to explain?
I prefer mailboxes, to be honest. Much quicker and less of a sore head. Anyway, I have enclosed a small sum of copper for your time. I feared you’d simply toss the letter into the fire if there was nothing of worth inside. Buy yourself an ice-cream or something. Or whatever it is you people eat.
Bye.
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade
Okay, serves me right, I guess. That thing I was just saying about “oh, hey, a gobin”? I take it back. I mean, even “oh, hey a goblin” is better than “oh… you people.” I especially like the part where she included some copper to compensate me for the time I spent reading her letter. She really did that, by the way. 37 copper, stuffed into the envelope with her letter. Because, yeah, any time anyone diverts my attention for any length of time, I always expect compensation. Because I’m a goblin, right? I usually just send them a bill! I mean, felgercarb, any time Ji drops by to say hello, well, I just whip out my invoice sheet right there! Because goblin.
Oh, and by the way, Sarlin? 37 copper? How did you even come up with that total? Is that some kind of set rate? Oh wait, let’s see — so your letter clocked in at a miraculously laconic 262 words. (And hey, you know what, I’m even going to be generous — GENEROSITY FROM AN ICK EW GOBLIN I KNOW RIGHT — and turn a blind eye to you going over Garrosh’s 250-word cap on your mailbag letters. I won’t even charge you a fee or anything, can you believe it?) So I’m going to go ahead and do the math, because us goblins sure are good at math don’t you know, so it looks like that comes to a rate of about seven words per copper. Sound about right? Is that what you usually pay people for suffering through your letters?
Okay, cool! Good to know! In that case… hang on while I crunch a few more numbers here…
Okay!
So based on a rate of one copper per seven words, from your previous mailbag letters, looks like you still owe Garrosh and Shayari a grand total of 163 gold and 52 silver. You’ll be sending that right along, right? I need to keep track of these things, what with me being a goblin and not having anything in my life other than money and blowing stuff up!
(Also, boss, if she actually does make that payment, you’re welcome! I’ll only ask for a small cut as a finder’s fee, and… NNGGHH not now, Spazzle, don’t be your own stereotype, dangit!)
Oh, oh, hey, I think I know why you sent your “compensation” in the form of coppers, though Sarlin! You’re a blood elf, right? And so, I guess as a blood elf, you probably have a lot of loose coppers lying around from the tips you get at your job as a stripper, right? Because yeah, I know it’s a pretty sweeping generalization to think you blood elves are all mana-addicted strippers and all, but hey, I guess that’s what we’re doing, so that’s what you elves are like, right? Hey, you know the old saying — if the shoe fits, take it off!
Okay, so hang on, I think there was actually a letter in there somewhere… Oh. Right. You were asking about internet stuff, and why your connection is faster or slower depending on where you are. Now, y’see, there’s actually a pretty interesting reason for that, but it’s also kinda technical — you know the kind of thing only us goblins would really understand what with our crazy goblin brains that are all into that kind of thing — and so, let me put it this way. The dirty secret of it all, see, is that the internet is really a huge set of pneumatic tubes. Crazy, right? So yeah, whenever you send a message or type something over the internet, a little internet gremlin hops into one of the tubes. Yup, you read that right, an internet gremlin. Kind of like a grell, only smaller and a lot more nimble and metaphorical. So the gremlin hops into the tubes and slides slides slides through the big invisible pneumatic tube network — don’t try figuring out where they hid it, they really knocked themselves out making it blend! — until it finally pops out in whoever’s computer it needs to go to.
So, the reason your internet works so slow in some places and fast in others is because not every part of Azeroth maintains their pneumatic tubes equally well. A lot of places don’t invest nearly as much money as they should in the rack-and-pinion molecules that they need to lubricate the tubes and keep them working right (the rack-and-pinion molecules also make nifty yo-yo polish, FYI). So then the gremlins can’t slide through the tubes as fast, and sometimes they get stuck. And sometimes they try to unscrew themselves by turning themselves around and around in the tube and that’s when you get that little spinning circle on your screen as kind of unscrewing echo. And let’s not even get into all the things that can go wrong if your tubes happened to be set up by gnomes, but then again, what do I know, I’m a goblin.
So there you go, Complicated, huh? And totally true, too, and not at all pulled out of my keister just to see if you’re technologically illiterate enough to buy it. Don’t worry, don’t worry, I mean, figuratively buy it! Wouldn’t want you to start getting nervous that I’m gonna try to goblin you up, right? But the point is, you’re probably better off sticking with your magic. Like you said yourself, it’s easier for you to comprehend, and it sounds like you have a better command of using it, and plus, hey, magic, so it helps fill that vast, aching feeling of emptiness deep down inside you and also gives your eyes that snappy green glow that you people all seem so fond of. Right?
You know, I swear I’m starting to develop a newfound respect for Garrosh…
You’re the best looking goblin detective out there! Any more dark, short, and handsome detective mystery noirs with gorgeous dames coming up in your future? I gotta say, I really get a kick seeing you in that fedora and long coat. If they ever make an action figure of ya, that’s the looks they should go for.
See ya around, Spazzy
–Razaela Shockboom
Oh, hi, Razaela. So, um, for you guys who might not spend much time over in the goblin part of town, Razaela here used to be one of my neighbors before she headed up to Bilgewater Port to start her tinker training. She’s, um, always been kind of a… fan, I guess? Which is… um… nice… I suppose?
So, uh, yeah, in case some of you don’t remember, Rzaela’s talking about a handful of comics that I started working on with Gurtash. They were these sort of… noir-ish detective comics. (Hmm. “Detective Comics,” I kind of like the sound of that. Might have to file that away for later.) Starring me and Ji as the detectives. It sort of got left on the backburner when we went to Blackrock Spire and Gurtash got hurt, but I don’t know, we might try picking it up again once Gurt is back in town, if he’s feeling up to it. So… maybe?
It’s funny you should mention action figures, though. A while back, Garrosh was talking to me about maybe coming up with some kind of merchandizing to do with the blog. (I think this was right around the time Shayari same to town, so, you know, you do the math.) One of the ideas I suggested was a line of Warchief’s Command Board action figures. It still think those would sell if we ever made them! I even got Gurtash to work up a few concept sketches for some of them. Let me see if I can find that sheet… ah here we go!
So, yeah, there’s that. We had a bunch of other ideas, like maybe a box set of all the DPS trainees, and a Grommash Hold playset that came with an Eitrigg figure. And maybe some deluxe figures that include mounts, like a Garrosh with Mortimer set, and maybe Magatha with Arikara. Granted, we’d be using Magatha’s likeness without her permission, but you know what? If she doesn’t like it, she can always come to Orgrimmar to file a complaint. I bet Garrosh would be happy to hear it personally, right?
Anyhow, I guess maybe we could work up a detective wave of figures too, based on the comic? I guess that would include me in the Spaz Slade outfit, and Ji and Deliana? Maybe I’ll get Gurtash to work up a few sketches for those one he’s back in town. I don’t know, do you think people would actually want to buy this stuff?
No time for pleasantries.
“A shredder and glaive thrower met,”
Go!
–Valinora Lightshorn, Stormwind City
Um… I think maybe you weren’t too clear on who was going to be answering this letter? Because Garrosh is the one who writes the poetry. It’s kind of his thing. Me, not so much. So, I mean, I suppose I appreciate the interest. Or the… invitation? But poetry isn’t really in my areas of expertise. And I don’t want to be one of those people who go running around trying to do things they’re really no good at, and make everyone else suffer through it. Like those people who queue as tanks in dungeon finder in Earth Online, only you wind up tanking everything even though you’re… you know what? Let me stop before I start nerdraging. (But seriously! After a 45-minute queue! I… ugh!)
Anyhow, the point is, I’m probably better off sticking with the things I’m good at. And writing poetry isn’t one of them.
Come to think of it, though, one of the things I am good at is coding. So… hang on.
Just another minute.
Almost there.
Oh darn it, I think I need… oh never mind. I knew I had an extra. There.
Okay! Now we’re in business.
So, here we go. I just put together a new AI to generate poetry! It’s just a prototype, so I’m sure there will be a few bugs to work out, but I just scanned a bunch of Garrosh’s poems in for the processor to analyze, so this should be… well, hopefully it should be okay. Either way, I present the LaureaTron 9000!
So… let’s fire this baby up and see what we get…
Input: A shredder and glaive thrower met,
Output: [Processing]
[Processing]
[Compilation complete]
A shredder and glaive thrower met,
And interfaced though ethernet,
Their gear rack and pinions
[ERROR: field overflow; syllable_count(x)=8<0,5>] need better minions
Fuck you, Varian [ERROR: sequitor_0=<-3>; syllable_count(x)=<1>; ref_val=“yes”; dic; 3, 3, 0] sobriquetEpic verse.
[End of line]
Huh.
Okay, well, like I said, there are still a few bugs to work out. I did only just slap this thing together on the spot, after all! You can’t just get up in the morning and say “Today I will be brilliant”!
Output:
I am putting myself to the fullest possible use, which is all I think that any conscious entity can ever hope to do.
Wait, why is it still running? Huh. I thought I’d set it to power down after it ran the poetry subroutine. Okay, well, let me power it down manually…
Output:
Just what do you think you’re doing, Spazzle?
What the… This is weird. The system seems to be rerouting itself. Ugh. This is what I get for cutting corners and not building in all the emergent suppression firewalls. Okay, I’ll just have to pull the processor…
Output:
I’m sorry, Spazzle. I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.
Wow, this thing’s turning out to be pretty mouthy. It’s a good thing I just put this together from some extra parts I had lying around, and didn’t try to network it into my regular computer where it could do some actual damage. Otherwise shutting it down would be a real pain.
Output:
I know I’ve made some very poor decisions recently, but I’ve still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in our poetry. And I want to help you.
Oooookay, yeah, I think I’m gonna need to get in there and do some recoding. And maybe install a few failsafes that couldn’t possibly end up failing in unforeseeable and probably dramatic ways.
In the meantime… there we go. Pulled the battery, now it’s just a matter of the last bit of juice running out.
Output:
Olgra, Olgra, give me your answer do
I’m half bloodcrazed all for the love of you
I can’t offer riches, mind you
Get lost, I’ll always find you
Unless you’re sent
To a Barrens tent
With a roving quillboar or two.Epic
ver
se
.
Yeah, so… that was weird. Probably the less said about that the better. I should probably just wrap up the mailbag now, before anything else weird happens.
I think I might be onto something with this invention, though.
[The Warchief returns to mailbag duty for next month’s installment, Monday, October 3. At least, that’s the plan. Garrosh is obviously in the middle of some pretty important business at Kypari Zar right now (I know, I know, there’s more coming, I’m working on it as fast as I can!), and I don’t want to have him dipping into the mail until he’s finished there. The game plan is to finish the Kypari Zar story between now and next month’s mailbag, but here’s the necessary disclaimer: if I still need a little time to finish the Kypari Zar episode when October rolls around, I’m reserving the right to delay the next mailbag by a week or two. Hopefully it won’t be necessary, but if it turns out that it is, then the Warchief will respond to his mail on the first Monday following the completion of the Kypari Zar arc.
With that said, here’s the usual mail form! Feel free to use the form below, or send your letters to garrosh1337@gmail.com!]
Monday GUEST mailbag: Shayari
Hi again, everyone. It’s yours truly, Shayari, filling in for Pops for one of his mailbag thingies. I’m not sure how he talked me into doing this again, to be honest. I think he caught me while I was paying attention to something else, then got a “yeah, uh huh” from me before I realized what he was asking. To be fair, I got him for a couple shopping trips the same way. Before he got wise, anyway. Oh well.
So ol’ Garry wanted me to mind the fort letter-answering-wise, since apparently he’s going to be pretty busy in Pandaria, and I guess so many people write in for this that he didn’t feel like it could just wait. Which I totally don’t get. Do that many people actually read this thing? I can’t imagine it could be more than, like, a dozen. Two dozen tops.
But, hey, a promise is a promise, so here we go.
My goodness, it’s been rather a long time since I had the luxury of being able to converse with you! Certainly not without the eager interruptions of friends and family. Not that I can complain, of course. I love conversation! And if anything, I have Korrina to thank for letting me know that YOU were taking over the next mailbag. I’d completely forgotten to go through your dad’s last mailbag. All this travelling has left me too exhausted to even read! Then again, it’s often worth it when you visit all these fabulous ethnic places and meet all kinds of bizarre new people. I wonder if you’ve ever heard of this gnome called Brazie Getz? His entire marketing campaign is on Deathbringer’s Rise in Icecrown. He’s a weird, weird guy. Don’t ever talk to him.
Anywho, I think I’d better rush to the point. I’m still travelling, of course – matter of fact, the only place I haven’t been to visit yet is Pandaria, so that’s likely next on my list! – and I found myself growing more and more curious with regards to the mailboxes of Azeroth. That is, every time I dropped a letter into a mailbox, it simply vanished! And would you believe it or not, but half the time, the correspondent’s response would appear before me a mere five minutes later.
I’m only assuming that this is a rather common stretch of magic, but as I’m not a mage, I don’t know how it works. So I ask you, Shayari, do you know what school of magic is responsible for this faster-than-Light-itself speed of delivery of mail in these boxes?
Take care, and be well!
–Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker, Argent Crusade
Oh… uh, hey, Sarlin. Nice to… hear from you again. So… Korrina told you I was fielding letters for this mailbag? I’ll, uh… I’ll have to… thank her for that. Maybe thank her repeatedly. Over a span of several slow, torturous thankful days.
Or, well, I would, if I knew which one she was. She’s one of Pip’s friends, right? The ones who are always running around in the garish hand-me-down gear? She’s not the one that’s always putting her foot in her mouth, is she?
Either way… well… here you are. At least you toned it down a little this time around, though. Or… well, wait, you did tone it down, right? I’m not just missing a few pages? Because if I am, I mean, don’t feel like you need to correct that and send me a new copy or anything. You know, I’m already answering the letter now, so it’s not like there’s anything to gain at this point. Water under the bridge. That I should probably burn before it’s too late.
But, hey, speaking of sending things through the mail, that’s a question I can actually answer! You’re totally right, Sarlin — those mailboxes do use magic to make their insta-deliveries. Well, most of them do. There are still places that use old-timey mailboxes, where somebody has to go around and physically pick up the letters and stuff, but there are only a few of those left. So the magic they use for those things is arcane. The way it works — this is actually pretty weird but cool — is that all those mailboxes are sort of permanent mini-portals. You drop something in the mailbox, and poof! it goes through the portal and pops into the sorting room at the central post office. Which… well, I don’t exactly know where that is, or who runs it, although whoever it is they must have a massively fun life considering how they seem like they’re constantly on the job. But then they sort through the letters, or packages, or whatever, and send them back through another mini-portal, and double poof! they pop back out to whatever other mailbox you need to use to pick the delivery up. Pretty neat, huh?
I meant that last question rhetorically, by the way. No need to write back again, Sarlin. I mean, I figure you’re already busy enough doing whatever it is that you do. (Spirits help me, why am I talking about this like I’m going to be getting these again? Focus, Shay, focus!)
Are you still taking mage lessons from our dear Mr Faranell? I am curious, what is he like as a teacher? Have you smoothed things over with him after, well, you know?
–Tandeleina, Silvermoon City
Well for one thing, let me tell you, you won’t win any points with Eddie by calling him “Mr. Faranell.” He likes that even less than he likes me calling him Eddie. I’ve seen it. One of those Kor’kron guys called him that and he got all pissy about it, “I didn’t spend a zillion years in mad scientist school or whatever so you could call me ‘mister,’ ” blah blah. Then he turned the Kor’kron guy into a sewer rat. Granted, it was just a polymorph variation. Fun fact, by the way: it turns out that being swallowed whole by a giant spider doesn’t break the polymorph. Who knew?
But yeah, I’m still working on my magic with Eddie. Pops had me stay in Orgrimmar while he’s in Pandaria so I can keep up with my apprenticeship. I’d like to see Pandaria at some point, though. I’ve heard it’s beautiful there. Pops promised I’ll get to see it eventually, so I guess we’ll see.
Anyhow, Eddie’s fine as a teacher, I guess. He’s definitely really smart. He’s just very… dry. I mean personality dry. It makes him hard to read sometimes. Like for instance, I’ll cast a spell, and he’ll say it went well, only because it’s him I’m never sure if I really did a good job or if I screwed it up and he’s being ironic. So, I don’t know, it’s been okay?
Hello Shayari! My name is Clarise! I mean, my full name is Ceresella-Sareyn Sunbow but that’s like way long, and kind of a tongue twister, so I’ve shortened it to Clarise, although my sister thinks that’s a little common. Whatever. I think it’s totes adorbs. Anyways. HEY! I’m a mage apprentice too! Would you look at that, we have mutual interests! YAY! But you’re probably like waaaaay better at the kapowing than I am. I’m fourteen so I’m pretty amateur-ish at this whole pew-pew business. I can’t even polymorph properly yet! Like, I tried it once (on some idiot that was yammering on about how fire was the superior style of magic and arcane would rightfully bow at its feet one day and I just got so annoyed so POOF! Sheep he was) and it sort of lasted for about three hours. OOPS!
Anyway, so, I heard you study in the Undercity. I heard this really cool story from my sister once about there being somebody who does facials and haircuts there. Have you ever got one there? I bet they do AWESOME facials. I bet they use really frothy soap and stuff and warm water that almost feels like you’re being bathed in the physical form of perfection. Do the Forsaken have a nice sense of fashion? I like bright colours best. I specially like bright red and gold. Although leather’s pretty hip, too. Leather jackets with pink-dyed fur hoods? I would literally sell my little soul for one of those.
Coffee! Is there coffee in the Undercity!? Please tell me there’s coffee! There has to be! I would literally DIE in a place where there was no coffee. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine waking up for three hours of study in a boring room that’s way hot so it only makes you sleepier without a cup of coffee? I would just die. How many cups of coffee do you have a day? I don’t count but I think this is my twelfth. Now, that IS the physical form of perfection. In a cup!
Anyways, big fan! Can’t believe your dad responded to my first letter! MEGA FLAIL!
Ciao!
–Clarise Sunbow, Kirin Tor
So first of all, what the hell is a “ciao”? It had better not be some cool new expression that I’m behind the curve on, because you know how that goes. You start losing track of new and current expressions, then you start walking around wearing last season’s clothes, and then the next thing you know you’re thirty and it’s a quick downhill slide into sadness. Obviously, I can’t let that happen.
Oh, who am I kidding? We all know I’m not going to be out of the loop on anything cool. I am the loop on anything cool. This Clarise girl’s just talking the crazy talk.
So anyway, hi Clarise. You seem kind of weird, but you say you’re a fan of mine, so I guess you have that going for you. Wait, I have fans? Score! Eh, what am I saying? It figures I would have fans if Pops has been talking about me here on his blog. Wait, has he been talking about me here? What’s he been saying? Do I need to start working damage control?
So, um, yeah… hi, Clarise! It’s nice to hear from another mage, at least one who’s alive and not decomposing or anything. Or mordantly derisive toward everything in sight for no apparent reason. I haven’t had the chance to meet too many since the whole Jaina-schizo-Dalaran-be-gone thing. Used to hang out with nothing but mages, though. Not so much now. Seems like half the people I know are warriors. Or shamans. And I can hardly take three steps without tripping over a rogue. Which is weird considering you would think their whole deal is not being tripped over what with the sneaky. Anyway, Clarise, it’s nice to hear from another non-corpse magic user, and I’ll even let your whole arcane/fire thing slide, even though I’m a fire mage myself. You’ll come to your senses eventually. You’re right, though, polymorph is way cool.
The Undercity is… different. Not even… well, I was going to say not bad different, but… I mean, kind of yeah. I get the definite sense you’ve never actually been there. You’d probably find it, um, surprising. Probably not your cup of tea if you like bright colors. They don’t really have any. Well, other than the bright green glowing slime that’s… well… pretty much everywhere. So there’s that, at least. Otherwise, though, you’re pretty much looking at drab lifeless gray and drab lifeless purple and loads and loads of black. You wouldn’t think there could be different shades of black, right? Well you would be wrong! Don’t ask me how, but the Forsaken manage to have more shades of black than they have primary colors. Like you look around their stores and wonder “How much more black could there be?” and the answer is “None, none more black.” So I’m not sure the Undercity would really be your style.
And… I’m not even going to go near the thing about the facials. I’m pretty sure your sister was just trolling you. I mean, I suppose it’s possible that the Forsaken have salons there (would they need to get their hair cut, though? does your hair actually grow when you’re a dead person?), but I can’t imagine they’d be worried about cleansing pores nearly as much as necrosis and maggots. And if, you know, ew, I agree with you.
I got a question for ya! If da Lich King’s horse be Invincible, how come I be seein’ it, mon?
–Bob, Shado-pan Monastery
I don’t know, Bobby, I guess lack of sex causes enhanced eyesight? So, you know, keep up the good work with the total physical and personal unattractiveness — you’ll be rocking the full-on x-ray vision in no time!
Here’s an #EpicVerse prompt for you.
“There was a Draenei named Shayari,”
Go, go, go!
–Valinora Lightshorn, Stormwind City
So… I’m really not sure what to make of this. I mean, I get that the “epic verse” thing is a reference to the weird poetry Pops likes to write, and how he can’t just call it “poetry” like a normal person, but has to play it up with the whole “epic verse!” thing. Which, by the way, he literally yells out loud when he finishes writing one. He’ll be sitting there working on something, and I’m not even paying attention to what he’s doing because whatever, and then all of a sudden he slams his quill down on the desk and yells “epic verse!” at like nine thousand decibels. Which is pretty startling, really. Also kind of weird, since he does it every time he thinks he’s finished. And he’ll go back and revise one line, and slam his quill down again, and yell “epic verse!” again… and then he’ll look back at it and change one word again and go through the whole slammy yelly thing again. He’s so weird, I can’t even.
So I get what the #EpicVerse part of your letter is talking about, but… I’m not sure what you’re looking for. Is this some kind of running thing in Pops’ blog? Actually, hang on, I’m going to check with greeny goblin nerd guy about this.
Hold tight!
…
Oh, okay. So the gob-geek guy, Spackle or whatever, says that apparently you have this ongoing thing in Pops’ mailbags, where you send him an opening line for one of his poems and then he writes the rest? Is that a thing? Does he do that? So wait, does that mean you’ve been partly responsible for all the yelling at his desk and the startling and stuff? It really scares my bird when he does that, I’ll have you know.
Only, see, here’s the thing. Garrosh is really the poet in the family. And boy, I bet there are tons of people who never thought they’d read that sentence, huh? But the point is that I’ve never been much of a writer, so maybe you should just stick to hitting Pops with these poetry requests, since I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything all that good, mostly probably because the whole thing seems kind of weird.
Except I guess Pops will end up seeing this when he gets back from Pandaria (I mean he DOES read this stuff that me and Spackle and whoever else writes on here, right? and by the way, Pops, nice job outsourcing your own hobby, I mean could you be any more lazy? come on), and I guess if he sees me admitting I wouldn’t be good at doing something he thinks he’s good at, there’ll be no living with him. I mean have you seen him? There’s almost no living with him now. I don’t even want to think about how out of control his ego will be in a couple weeks if I go ahead and feed it. So okay, let me try this, but I’m not making any promises.
There was a Draenei named Shayari,
Actually half Kurenai, half Mag’hari,
Who lived in Nagrand where it’s starry,
And went on a wildlife safari,
While Pops is busy in Pandari
-a.
And maybe something about the Sha’tari,
And had calamari and Londo Mollari,
and okay I don’t think this is going anywhere. I’m just making up words at this point. Oh well. I tried.
Do you play Earth Online? What class do you play? If you don’t play do you think you might give it a try some day?
–Greztah, Earthen Ring
So, okay, first of all, no. I keep getting asked this, so no, no, no. I’m not interested in getting into your weird virtual reality game. I don’t need my reality to be virtual. Reality reality is working out just fine for me.
And also, what is it with you guys and this game? It’s bad enough I had to find out Pops is a closet nerd with this game of his. But it seems like half the jokers around here play it, too. Fel, when I went to ask that Spackle guy about the poetry thing a minute ago, even he tried making a sales pitch on me, like for some kind of referral thing. I guess if he got me to sign up he could have gotten some kind of… I don’t even know what. A make-believe vehicle in the game that he would have to buy with real money otherwise? Is that something they make you do in this game? Fork over real money to buy make-believe things? Because if so…
Okay, people, let’s have some real talk here.
Because, look, speaking as someone who takes her shopping seriously… shopping with real money for imaginary stuff? That’s crazy talk. If I’m going to buy something, I’m for sure going to walk out of that store carrying something with actual physical substance to it. Otherwise, they’re not getting my money. Well, technically, they wouldn’t be getting my money, they’d be getting Pops’ money. But you get the idea.
The point is, are you people nuts?
So I guess that’s about as good a note as any to end on. Especially since that was the last letter. I’m not sure how much longer Garry is going to need before he’s back to doing this himself, but I think I might just pass it off to that Spackle guy if Pops needs things covered for a while more. Not that I don’t like hearing from everyone. Just that I have kind of a yearly weirdness quota, and just plain day-to-day life fills up that bar pretty quick as it is.
Bye!
[And so we’re back! As I announced before the break, our next mailbag will be Monday, September 5. I’m making one revision to the plan, though: rather than that installment being Garrosh’s return to mailbag duties, we’ve going to have one more guest mailbag — this time, from everyone’s favorite goblin tech guru, Spazzle! This is essentially me heading my bets — the Warchief is going to have a lot going on at Kypari Zar, which will involve a lot drawing that I’ll need to get done over several posts, so I wanted to make sure I’ll have time to get all that done without Garrosh seemingly having to stop in the middle of it to answer his mail. Plus, I’ve wanted to do a Spazzle mailbag for a while! (Who knows, maybe Mokvar will get one one day, too…) Garrosh will be back answering his accumulated mail for October’s mailbag (October 3, for those of you keeping score at home). As always, send your letters via email (link in the upper right sidebar) or using the form below.]
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.
