Old alts are getting booted, and alts of active players are being moved to the rank of Outrider.
Keeping track of everyone is a lot easier if we have a sense of real numbers in the ranks of Grunt and Grot.
If you have any questions, know someone who got kicked who you feel shouldn't have, or just want to vent your frustration, contact an officer!
Also, please update your main here on the site to what you want your main to be. We understand that sometimes folks split their time evenly between a couple of characters, but don't worry, we just need one to be your main for a headcount.
Warlords of Draenor is quickly approaching! We'll do another cleanup once it's clear who is and isn't coming back. Make room for fresh recruits!
The fact that world PvP is one of the central activities of our guild is no secret. The more members we have willing and equipped to lead assaults on the Alliance means enjoying more of our favorite Grin pastime.
See more details about tomorrow's raid workshop over at the forums.
Dawn breaks, casting light over the green, fetid water of the Swamp of
Sorrows. As first light is cast on the walls and barricades of Stonard,
home of the Blacktooth Grin clan, the steady sound of war drums can be
heard. These drums serve two purposes: to rouse the sleeping grots from
their holes so they can tend to their duties to the clan, and to recall
the night's guards and outriders.
Some of the clan wake with the war drums, usually from old habits from
their own grothood, and some have been awake for hours before first
light. Vosgonar is one of the latter, mainly because the dead need
little sleep. He stands stiffly in one of the many burrows just beyond
the walls of Stonard, eyes set on the road leading to the Blasted Lands,
awaiting the final outrider's return. Vos grinned as he saw the last
rider approach, and he moved towards the burrow's exit, keen on hearing
the night's report.
Upon exiting, Vos began to jog toward Stonard proper, and got a second
look at the outrider as it ran past. The troll looked shaken, his
normally vibrant blue skin paler than usual, and the worg he rode had
its hackles raised. Concerned, Vos took a turn toward the grot pits. He
stood at the mouth of the pits, watching the dirt-covered grots claw
their ways out of their muddy holes. Vos grinned and cleared his throat.
"Grots! Line up!" he shouted, startling the slower ones who hadn't
realized his presence. There was a mad rush of flesh and dirt, as grots
scrambled over themselves to line before the Sythegar. The few Grunts
assigned to watch the grots fell in line behind them, more out of habit
than anything else.
"Today is a special day, whelplings. Today you will cast aside your
broken blades and your broom handles. Today you will shuck off your
rusted and rotten armor. Grots. Today you will be doing live steel
drills." Some the grots looked confused, some determined, but the eyes
of the Grunts behind them grew wide, sadistic and toothy grins spread
across their faces. "You have exactly ten minutes to rouse the armorer
and to return here with good armor and steel, or by Blackhand himself
you will muck stalls with nothing but your bare hands for the next
decade." He waited a beat before shouting, "NOW!"
In a bumbling flash, the grots were off. Vos turned to the Grunts once
the majority of them were out of earshot and said, "Keep your eyes and
ears open, Grunts. The outrider to the portal came back looking grim.
These exercises are a cautionary measure should something hap-"
Vos was cut-off by an earth-shattering explosion from the south, shaking
the ground beneath them. Warriors all, the Grunts and Vos kept their
footing, sudden grim determination setting their faces. "Keep to the
exercises, do your duties. I will send scouts ahead of your formations
to alert you should anything happen," Vos said, turning back toward the
Delighted grots surged past Vos, most in ill-fitting but strong armor
and holding new steel. Vos made it to the command tend just as the
outrider was finishing his report to the officer of the watch.
"…and de portal turned blood red. Out of it came war machines like I had
never seen before, and ‘undereds of brown-skinned orcs.”
"Nonsense,” Vos interjected before the officer of the watch could speak.
"The only brown skinned orcs in existence at this point are the
Mag’har, and they are content to stay in Nagrand. If they had the means
to create war machines, and the desire to do so, we would have been
informed by our people out there months ago.”
The outrider shook his head. "Nah mon, not de Mag’har. I saw de banners
of de Shattered Hand and Bleeding Hollow, but not a red fel orc among
dem. Someting weird be goin’ on, mon.”
Vos considered for a moment before clapping the troll on the shoulder,
saying, "You’ve done your duty well. Rest now if you can, because if
it’s as ‘weird’ as you say, we will need every able body we have.
Dismissed.” He saluted and exited the tent.
Around Stonard was chaos. Half-armored warriors rushed here and there,
the sounds of hurried forge stoking and metal being hammered, a group of
mages dragging a scrying pool into the center of the stronghold, and a
handful of priests and paladins praying to their Light for strength. Vos
grunted and made his own way to the armory, where he strapped his own
armor on and grabbed his runeaxe. He paused briefly as he grasped the
axe’s handle, icy cold crept its way from his fingertips up his arms,
but he shook his head and slung the axe over his shoulder as he headed
out into the swamp.
A dull rumbling could be heard from the west. One of the scouts Vos had
sent earlier, a goblin, met with him as he approached the road and
saluted. "Sir, we have reports that a large force of brown-skinned orcs,
under many banners, are surging through the swamp towards Duskwood.
They appear to be heading towards Blackrock Mountain both by land and
Vosgonar’s expression grew harder at the news. "The Grin has monitored
the Mountain in the past. If they want to go through our swamp to get
there, they have another thing coming. Keep watch on them, grunt. Stay
hidden if you can. I want to know their goal before we move on them.”
The goblin saluted before fading back into the shadows.
Vos stood there for a moment before turning back to the watch tower just
beyond the gate to Stonard. It was here that the war drum’s steady beat
originated. The tauren keeping the beat nodded at Vos as he climbed
into the topmost room of the tower, and Vos returned the nod. The drum
was not the only thing in this tower- the horn of war that signaled to
the clan as a whole was here as well. Vos took the horn from its case
and held up a hand to silence the drummer. The beat faded as Vos stepped
to the watch tower’s window. Many eyes were turned up to the tower, as
the eerie silence without the war drum’s beat permeated the swamp. Vos
took a deep breath and blew the horn once, twice, three times to mark
preparation for battle. Cries and cheers swelled from Stonard below, and
a chant of ‘Fear the Grin!’ rose above all. Vos replaced the horn,
grinning. He nodded again at the tauren, who resumed the beat with
renewed vigor as Vosgonar descended to prepare for war.
[See more of the Grin's actions and stance prior to Warlords of Draenor by reading the rest of this thread on our roleplay forums!]