Monday mailbag

Well, I asked for questions, and you all obliged!  Let’s have a look at some of this week’s mailbag – actual letters from actual readers!

 

Zug-zug, Warchief!

Me a peon who read your blog.  Me like reading words of my great warchief!  And now you ask to hear from peons like myself?  This what makes warchiefs Garrosh and Thrall great leaders!  Me thank you.

You ask for questions from peons.  Me have a question me want to ask, but was too scared.  Me ask it now though.  What happened to your head?  When you went to Northrend it look like any other orc head, now it look like your head too small or your jaw too big.  Me think you wounded in glorious battle, but never heard story of how.

Also me would like nap break in afternoon but overseer beat me and make work more.  Me can has nap break?

–A Tired Peon

First of all, someone remind me to up the Razor Hill education budget next year, before we get another generation of peons grimlocking their way through writing a letter.

Second of all, ATP, the head thing.  Yeah, I know.  Don’t think I don’t notice the way people stare at me when they drop by Grommash Hold – and for realsies, you’re not fooling anyone, people.  Acting like you’re staring in another direction and then glancing over when you think I’m not going to see?  Totally not working.  So I guess I might as well answer this once and for all.

So I’d like to say this was from some epic battle in Northrend, like me squaring off with Arthas, or even Anub’arak, and maybe having him unleash one of those swarms of locusts on me and they buzzed all over me and crushed my head down or some shit like that.  But the truth of the matter is, it wasn’t anything that exciting.

Those of you who were up there in Northrend with me will remember my last operation was at Light’s Hammer just inside the gates of Icecrown Citadel.  You might also remember that I spent most of that time hanging out there with Tirion Fordring.  Who I’d already had my fill of, by the way, when I went to meet him with Thrall at his stupid-ass tournament place.  (Like seriously, isn’t ONE pansy-ass traveling fair enough for the world?)  So hopefully you people were all too busy forging your way into the citadel and fighting our enemies like the Horde soldiers that you are…but meanwhile I was stuck back there with Tirion…who pretty much had nothing to do for a good long time but talk.  And talk.

On.

And on.

And on.

Like really, do you have ANY idea how blabby he is?  The preachiness was bad enough, having to sit there and listen to his EIGHT MILLION AND SEVEN spontaneous sermons to no one in particular about the power of the Light and the need to work together against a common foe, and blah blah blah.  But then he started going on for hours on end about his crazy uncle Lucius who used to live down the block from Andorhal, and thought he was King Llane, and caught Deadeye burning down a dwarf settlement in Loch Modan and forced him to retreat by beating him at Parcheesi, until he finally went off the deep end and painted himself blue and spent all his time running around Tirisfal Glades naked chasing bats with a wooden spatula, until the Kirin Tor snapped him up and locked up away in some padded room in Dalaran just to keep him out of trouble for his own good, and now Tirion feels like my day just won’t be complete until he tells me what kind of marmalade he liked to put on his toast in the morning, and I just couldn’t fucking TAKE it anymore.

So I just clamped my hands down over my ears as tight as I could and hummed real loud, and I guess I didn’t know my own strength and got carried away, because the next thing you know I’ve managed to squeeze my own fucking head down a couple helmet sizes.  So good job there, me.  Fucking Tirion.

Of course I suppose two years of Noggenfogger shampoo didn’t help matters, but that’s a whole other thing.

Speaking of not knowing my own strength…

 

Lok’tar, Warchief Hellscream.

I’m a warrior in the service of the Horde. I do pretty well on the battlefield, but I feel as though I can do much better. Could you tell me how you became so incredibly strong? Do you have a workout regiment, or did you acquire your amazing might through constantly crushing the enemies of the Horde under your boot?

–Revga, Orgrimmar

All of the above, Revga, all of the above.  There’s really no substitute for beating the living shit out of real, live foes.  For one thing, you never know what they’re going to try next, so it keeps you on your toes.  Plus, you can really push yourself if you can find some real grade-A enemies to take on.  Here’s where I think I might have an unfair advantage over a lot of guys, since I grew up in Nagrand.  While some of the Horde here in Azeroth get started killing boars and wolves and bats, I got to get my exercise fighting hand to hand with giant fucking gronn and whole villages of ogres.

Besides that, I do have a workout routine that works pretty well for me.  First thing in the morning I run a hundred laps around Grommash Hold.  While I’m going around I get some extra arm exercise in by slapping the fuck out of all the pansy-ass vendors just standing around doing nothing.  Especially Ray’ma, because trolls sound extra funny when you slap them around.  Then I drop by the meat vendor (once she’s regained consciousness) and pick up eight pounds of roast boar for my breakfast.  Gotta maintain your strength, and the protein’s good for muscle, you know.

After that I jog up by the rear gate of Orgrimmar where we keep all the siege engines, find one that looks pretty stable, and bench press it.  Nothing too major, just a couple hundred reps.  Then I head over to the arena and spar with some of my Kor’kron personal guards for a couple hours.  The ones that live get to keep their jobs.

By that point most days it’s around lunch time, so I put Gorehowl away, hop on a wyvern (MAYBE I’LL TAKE MORTIMER THIS TIME, DEHTA BITCHES – THAT’S RIGHT, I FOUND HIM!), and fly down to Un’goro Crater…taking the scenic route up through Hyjal and Felwood then down around Silithus and through Uldum, of course (BECAUSE MORTIMER NEEDS HIS FUCKING EXERCISE TOO).  When I get there I find a couple devilsaurs, beat them to death with my bare hands, drag them over to Fire Plume Ridge, and hold them over the lava till they get a good sear.  Then it’s lunch time.  When I’m done I head over to the eastern cliff face to get some rock climbing in, and scale my way up into Tanaris.  From that point I jog over to the shore and usually drop by the Caverns of Time, or as I like to call them, the Caverns of Did I Beat My Best Time.  Right now I’m sitting on 34 seconds.  BEAT IT IF YOU CAN.  If you don’t believe me, just take it up with Anachronos, he’s usually the one holding the stopwatch, even if it’s kind of a funky-looking melty one.  Anyway, from there I jog on over to the shore and get in my afternoon swim.  Which in my case means I swim from Tanaris right on back up to Durotar.

So I know what you’re thinking at this point: Wait, Garrosh, you just said you had lunch a little while before this, plus it was devilsaur, and we all know how heavy that can be – isn’t it bad for you to go swimming a short time after you’ve eaten?  And the answer is yes, yes it is….IF YOU’RE A GODDAMN FUCKING PANSY.

Once I make it back to Orgrimmar, it’s usually time for afternoon tea.

At that point I usually have some Warchief crap I have to take care of, so that’s about it for the workout.  As you can tell, being this awesome is a full-time job.  You don’t just get a body like mine for nothing.  And speaking of taking an interest in my body…

 

Heyyyy mighty Warchief Garrosh Hellscream, you don’t know me I’m your biggest fan EVAH!!!

And I’m an orc, and a gal, so please answer me… what color panties do you prefer in a woman? *hint hint nudge nudge*

Your faithful fan & minion

–Uukra the Hallowed

You know, you’d be surprised how often I get questions like this.  (Like seriously, if it was ANYTHING like this for Thrall, I don’t know why the hell he would want to get married.)

So, Uukra, to answer you.  When you come right down to it, I’m basically a soldier at heart, so I’m going to put this to you in military terms.  One word: commando.  ;-)

I mean, I know that’s how I roll.

Yes, you read that right.  Soak up THAT mental image.  You’re welcome.

 

Dear Warchief Hellscream,

Since you mentioned Jaina Proudmoore in your post about Thrall’s wedding, and I figure you must be in the know, I just have to ask about those two.  You know what I’m talking about.  Did Thrall ever, um, you know?

–Grimgore, Orgrimmar

Jaina?  Oh, geez, dude, who HASN’T?

Other than Lor’themar.  Obvious reasons.

 

That’s it for this week, but keep those letters and questions coming!  YOUR WARCHIEF DEMANDS THEM!

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2 Responses to “Monday mailbag”

  1. Funny, I definitely thought you’d be a black lacey roos kind of Orc.

  2. LOL, “grimlocking”. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t let troggs or dinobots teach the Intro to Creative Writing class at Razor Hill Academy…

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