#Griselda Blackhand

[neff-zhul]

area girlboss falls asleep on her girldad, drools on the dadtits

[ivorytowerblr]

NaNoWriMo 2021: Nov 9th

Food coma due to delicious meats almost did today’s writing in, but I persisted. That and still not quite adapting to DST ending.

Title: Warcraft: Invasion (Vol 1 of Reborn AU) Word Count: 13925 (of 50000) Includes: Violence, mature sexual content, strong language. Summary: It was a dark and stormy night when the rift opened. From it spilled warriors of an alien culture bent on finding and destroying the cause of a sickness that plagued their world, all unknowing that the true cause was right under their noses all along.

Five years after the birth of his son, Llane Wrynn, Crown Prince of Stormwind, would learn of a terrible threat to his people, his nation, and his very world. The only natural thing to do is send his son to the protective walls of Northshire Abbey and, all unknowing, to the protection of a great hero, the prodigy-knight Mara Fordragon.

When sickness ravages your very world, you have no choice but to do whatever it takes to cure it, even if it means traveling to another world by means of the foulest of dark sorceries. It means standing at the side of a butcher, a monster, an abuser, a warrior, a chieftain, a hero to your clan. It means putting aside what is right to do what you must.

All these threads and more weave together to bring about a war like any other; two worlds will never be the same again.

Previous: 1st . 2nd . 3rd . 4th . 5th . 6th . 7th . 8th. 

“What?!” Blackhand’s voice rose, and Griselda flinched, shrinking back a little. She had not been speaking -- she was in fact entirely uninvolved with the conversation -- but she still feared her father’s temper.

Not that I can blame her, Garona thought from her place in the shadows. Not everyone can hide as I do. Brainless thugs are still very dangerous to those around them.

“The soft-skins are guarding their borders more closely now,” repeated the scout, Vestak, his eyes fixed on the hard mud floor of his chieftain’s hut. The whole place was damp and uncomfortable, much like the rest of the Sorrowlands. “They have armoured warriors riding great, fierce creatures with hooves bigger than a talbuk’s and great teeth.”

They’re called humans, and realistically their skin isn’t significantly softer than ours, Garona corrected mentally. Though the horses are a problem.

“Then we need our own mounted warriors,” Blackhand growled, and smashed his fist against his makeshift throne. Garona eyed him with distaste. “The Thunderlord have promised worgs, where are they?!”

“They are cautious because of the red pox,” Gul’dan cut in smoothly, and Garona’s eyes darted to him. He was not tall as orcs went -- Blackhand was a third again his size, even without his heavy metal armour -- and his features were twisted into a permanent sneer. He was not ancient; he was only fifty summers old, and his hands were smooth and firm as he gripped his cane that was as much affectation as a focus for his spellcasting. He wore wine-dark cloth robes, woven in the tradition of the ancient Shadowmoon clan, though he did not carry that name.

Instead, he was the Stormreaver.

“Bah, he can just avoid the Shadow Wolves if it means so much to him,” Blackhand said, gesturing dismissively. “He may have promised their old chieftain a litter, but he promised them to us years ago.”

“They will be brought,” Gul’dan said. “But for now, it will be dangerous for your warriors to push further into enemy territory. They need to wait for scouting reports.”

“We orcs are not meant to wait!” Blackhand rose, and began to pace the small room like a caged wolf, snarling and jerking his head from side to side. The stench of alcohol wafted from his person. Invisible, Garona pulled a face in disgust.

He’s a useless fool, Garona thought. The humans are organized. They have military leaders. They have clearly been at war before and know how to wage it. Orcs rely on overwhelming strength and fear to win. Once warned, the humans will overcome us.

“Then let us examine the situation again.” Gul’dan snapped his fingers. “Garona. The maps.”

Immediately, she took a step forward, causing Blackhand to grunt in surprise, and Griselda to suck in her breath in shock. Garona ignored both of them, and moved to the crude slab that had been set up to function as a table. She unhooked a long, slender cylinder from her belt and cracked it open, tipping out a roll of thinly scraped leather and unrolled it.

Blackhand reluctantly moved back to his throne and sat in it heavily. “We are in Stonard, not far from what the soft-skins called Bluemarch.”

“Correct,” Gul’dan said, gesturing towards a pair of symbols. “We have traveled north from the staging area for the Dark Portal in an effort to hide where we have come from. Few humans live in this area, and those that do live in small villages, isolated from each other due to the swamp. We established Rockard closer to the Dark Portal as our place to gather supplies so they can be given to our armies and scouting parties.”

“I know all of this,” Blackhand growled. “I was there. My sons named these settlements.”

Which explains why they are so bog-standard and stupid, Garona thought sourly. What’s next, Dirtennar? Rend-and-Maim-ard? You had twins who are all ass and no brains. Maybe Saksha was saving it all for her daughter.

“We can’t keep relying on supplies from Draenor to sustain us,” Griselda whispered. Three sets of eyes -- including Garona’s -- fixed on her. She shrank back a little, but continued. “The supply lines will run too long, and it will be easier for the human patrols to cut us off from them. They don’t know where we are right now, but that won’t be true forever. Especially if they speak to the survivors.”

“There are no survivors,” Blackhand growled menacingly, then glanced at Gul’dan. “Are there?”

Gul’dan smiled thinly. “Not once we’re done with our prisoners, but if there are any who survive battle, they might be recovered and healed by the human necrolytes or shamans. If they can answer questions, they will be able to give their account of us.”

“Then we slaughter them all!” Blackhand roared. “We butcher the soft-skins and we get our food from Draenor.”

“...where people are starving, and the land is dying,” Griselda noted. “That is some of why we have come here, isn’t it? To stop that from happening. We can only take so much. If you will not allow for hunting, we must find another way.”

She’s right, but wrong in equal measures, Garona thought. If she knew... if anyone outside of Gul’dan and his inner circle knew...

“Then where do you propose we get food from?” Blackhand demanded. “Will you call it from the air?”

“No, we would need to farm,” Griselda said. “This is a swamp, it’s true, but it’s possible to farm here. I have done some tests.” Blackhand made a face, but didn’t interrupt. “We can drain some of the land, shore up drier areas, and grow simple grains. We could bring living boars here, or we could take animals from the humans. They farm too. They would know what can and cannot be grown here.”

Blackhand grunted. “So we’re to just stop our war and start farming? My warriors will go mad with boredom while the peons work.”

“They could... help?” Griselda offered tentatively, and Blackhand snarled at her. She shrank away from him, and Gul’dan raised his hand to forestall any violence.

“We need the warriors to go to war, just as we always have,” Gul’dan said smoothly. “However, there are others within the clan that can work, or we can force some of the humans we capture to work. Especially the farmers.”

“Fine, we have a plan for farming,” Blackhand said, sneering. “What about real work? What about the fighting we need to do?”

“It is simple,” Gul’dan said. “The humans cannot guard every pathway. We will go around them. Send your warriors against them here, at the border of the red and brown lands.” He indicated on the map. “While they do that, the scouts will go to the borders of other lands and see where the warriors stand ready, and where they do not hear of our coming. In those places, send an overwhelming force.”

“Won’t... won’t the warriors you send to Redridge die?” Griselda asked softly. “If there are armoured riders and experienced warriors guarding it?”

“They will if they’re weak,” Blackhand said. “In fact, I know just who to send.”

Griselda’s chin trembled, but asked, “Who would you send?”

“An outsider,” Blackhand said, dismissively. “Eitrigg. His sons are too young yet to be proper warriors, but they can serve as runners if needed. I hear the Great Sands are good at running away from things. If he survives, he’ll gain my respect. If he dies, we’ll have two more for your farms.”

I’m sure it would have been Doomhammer’s son if he were still here and not off scouting the southern jungles, Garona thought. He would have done it to hurt her, I am sure. He is so cruel to someone so undeserving.

“Then it is settled,” Gul’dan said. “Garona, I want you to scout to the west. Blackhand will divide the rest of his scouts as he sees fit. By your leave, Chieftain, I would speak with my scout about other matters.”

Garona stood, and kept her gaze fixed downward. “As you say, Chieftain.”

“Yes, yes, go,” Blackhand said. “Leave the map. We may need it.”

Garona looked to Gul’dan, who nodded, and swept out of the chieftain’s hut, and walked briskly towards his own tent. Garona followed behind silently, staring at the back of his head, trying to penetrate his mind to read his thoughts. Gul’dan refused to speak until they were within the tent, under the protective glyphs that kept away prying ears with a sound like droning insects.

“I want you to go and speak to Medivh,” Gul’dan said without preamble. “Let Blackhand waste his warriors testing the human defenses, they will not fall easily. I was promised assistance and I will get it. Go to him and ask him where it is.”

“Yes, Master,” Garona said, keeping her voice hushed. “Do you not trust him to answer you directly?”

“Of course not,” Gul’dan snapped. His anger was different from Blackhand’s; a low, dangerous rasp where the Blackrock chieftain was all bluster and intimidation. “He is keeping secrets, I have sensed it from the beginning. I would know more. I will know more. You will bring that information to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Garona said. “I will leave when you ask.”

“Now,” Gul’dan said. “Gather some supplies and go. Not too many. Warriors need that food.”

And I am no warrior, Garona finished mentally. I’m not even an orc.

“Go,” Gul’dan said, cutting through her thoughts. “Do not be seen.”

Garona nodded, and left the tent, sighing nearly inaudibly as the buzzing faded from her senses. She moved quickly, avoiding the clusters of warriors that were drinking, polishing their weapons, or fighting duels that were half out of boredom and half to establish a pecking order.

Eitrigg, son of Harnuth, was sitting on a stump, telling a story to his sons, Vestagg and Ariok. The older warrior’s expression was animated as he gestured in places, emphasizing one point or another as he described a great hunt.

I should warn him, Garona thought, pausing as she did so. His sons don’t deserve to lose both their parents, and while I could never fight an illness, the least I can do is tell him--

“You, Eitrigg,” called one of the scouts. Garona turned, seeing Vestak. Her heart sank. “The Chieftain has orders for you.”

“I’ll finish the story later, my sons,” Eitrigg said, his voice a deep burr. He hefted himself upwards and mussed first Vestagg’s hair, then Ariok’s. “When the Chieftain speaks, all hear, including Papa.”

The pair stood and saluted. “For the Blackrock! For Chieftain Blackhand!”

“Something to say, Spook?” hissed Vestak as he passed her. “Do outsiders all stick together?”

Yes, Garona said. She ignored his words, and hurried off to collect supplies. It won’t take a moment to write a word of caution... assuming he can read. Which isn’t a given, all things considered. Damnit, should I tell his sons? They’re only twelve and ten, they may not be able to remember. I’ll think of something. I must.

If nothing else happened, Garona had decided: Eitrigg would live.

[fitzefitcher]

What happened to the chieftains and other major characters like cho'gall, teron'gor, and ga'nar? Are they still around to have some of them kicked thr bucket? And Blackhands kids? I doubt Rend and Maim would want to follow Thrall and Garrosh

FUNNY YOU SHOULD SAY THAT ABOUT REND AND MAIM;;;

so garrosh grew up with them, but they were separate from his group of friends, because they were weird and insular and while maim is actually pretty personable for the most part, rend is an angry, resentful little shit that's too smart for his own good and can barely stand being around the other kids, let alone play nice with them, in part bc while most of them got Big & Bulky (his own brother being the exemplary example of this), he stayed mostly the same size, and knows in his heart he and his siblings are a disappointment to their dad. Griselda bc she wasn't a son, Rend bc he's too small, Maim bc he's neither clever nor ambitious. so when Thrall eventually returns, he finds allies in blackhand's children, much to Garrosh's chagrin

cho'gall I'm honestly still figuring out, bc I'm not sure if he should still be one of gul'dan's cronies or pal-ing around with the pale orcs, bc they get a free pass in this au. teron'gor is definitely still one of gul'dan's cronies, although he probably doesn't look the same as he do in AU draenor, though he's probably just as monstrous.

ga'nar is probably still around? I decided not to kill off durotan after all bc I designed him and was like "oh no, he looks so friendly, I don't want to kill him now," so he's imprisoned, but not dead. draka is probably running the clan w ga'nar's help. fenris wolfbrother is still their brother, but he's not the head of the thunderlord clan, his wife is.

ner'zhul is wandering around the wilderness brooding, as you do, training thrall and talking to the one singular old god in the planet (bc as a house rule, old gods is just archaic nature gods in this AU, so ner'zhul is basically just teaching him how to speak directly to the elements' manager lmao), gul'dan is fel pope, I think kaz's husband isn't dead? but she's still head of the laughing skull. kargath is definitely livin' it up in this sort of constant environment of violence, and I've arbitrarily decided he has a daughter. kilrogg's family is Belligerent and Numerous, as it is in canon, and he's still chieftain. garrosh went to school w some of his grandkids. he also went to school with azuka, and her dad is still head of the burning blade.

in this au I've become very fond of giving people free passes lmao

[shamanofthewilds]

From the vanilla quest Crossroads Conscription, it’s clear that orcs were not really equal toward female before Thrall. It’s not really a surprise with this huge sexual dimorphism, even though females were expected to fight like males. Moreover it’s clear that females would get a harder time to get a higher position. More so when you know that only the son of a chieftain can become the future chieftain of the clan, and when you also notice that orcs always use their father/grandfather first name

I partially wonder what was the purpose of sending this. Is this some sort of point as if to say orcs have been sexist this entire time? Some sort of attempt to dismantle my view points on orcish society? I’m really not understanding if this is just a genuine topic to bring up or some sort of strange gotcha as if to say it’s all wrong. Because I do know a lot people try to RP their big male orc characters as EXTREMELY sexist. To the point where I feel like its just a power trip. Wanting their ‘orcess’ harem and demanding to breed at their will..so you have to understand why I would be suspicious it’s so important to suddenly say this out of no where.  But after re-reading this quest I do remember coming across it and finding it interesting. I never see things strictly being one way or another. In early orcish society, I 100% believe that roles were perhaps a little different. They always WILL be , no matter the culture. There is no such thing as pure Utopian society, best there can be is respect and equal opportunity.  But I feel like that quest not being around anymore make sense due to how orcish women are portrayed more and more. Because this is a very male dominated game, we’re not GOING to see too many orcish women leaders, and theres a lot of things that are being undone to sort of let go things that were created too close to “traditional”  or only from a male writer point of view.  Gonna put this under read more!

But we’ve yet to see too many examples over all. Warlord Zaela I think was about as close as we could get to an orcish female leader (from a modern clan) and yet now shes gone. Durotan in the movie was fully accepting of either have a girl or boy, so what would of happened had instead of Go’el, they had a girl? If having a son was extremely important in maintaining the Chieftain lineage, I feel like a suggestion that it could be a her would be less welcome, and have more emphasis on hoping it’s a boy for the clan. But yet! There IS a sort of ‘female’ out come to this! Geya’rah is the child of Durotan and Draka of alternate Draenor, who was in high leadership with Grommash, and then became leader of the united Mag’har clans of AU draenor. A planet that was still able to keep a lot of traditional culture (with modern tech) before Thrall could ever say “Hey guys be nice to women.” As for the names, orcish last names are only inherited by the children if its a name that carries a weight among the orcish culture and society. Hellscream was taken by Garrosh because it’s a notable name of a famous leader, a name that was earned and is important enough to be passed down. When you have a name that great and recognized, your children don’t always need to earn a name. To carry the name of a great recognized title is enough. And then there is not having any last name at all, since existing alone is enough to be notable. Durotan, Son of Garad, Thrall son of Durotan.  Same goes for Blackhand, all three of his children took his name as their last names including his daughter Griselda. But we have so few examples, it looks like its only a male to male thing passed down.  So!!! As much as I love Thrall telling his culture to drink their respect women mead, I think a message such as that would likely be made more broadly now. An equality between the sexes no matter what, an allowance of roles to be shared between male or female or nonbinary. For all we know, a “less than equal” view could of formed more recently, and it needed to be reminded of how they are as a people. It could of been a reminder that we must remember who we are, and that no matter what we will always remain equal. It could of just been Blizzards way to get gamerbros to shut up about who is playing the game. Orcish women are respected, expected to be strong, expected fullfil their duties, they can be shaman (who were considered second in power to the Chieftain), they were master hunters, still out there on the battlefield getting covered in scars. So again.... I’m still unsure what this ask was meant to point out to me. I’m not upset at you, or angry, or hateful. Just ....a tad confused, but I’m not looking for an explanation either too much.  Thank you for the ask regardless! And I hope all is well.

[dungeons-n-dives]

1 Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group?

Which one are they closest with?

“Grizz” is an only child by blood, however as she was adopted and saved very young she has a younger sister that her adopted parents had called Alcaz. While the two girls get along as girls like them would - a Paladin and a Blood Hunter - she does still very much care for her.

[ivorytowerblr]

NaNoWriMo 2021: Nov 30th

It’s sure a good thing that there are two extra day in November that I definitely didn’t make up.

Title: Warcraft: Invasion (Vol 1 of Reborn AU) Word Count: 43165 (of 50000) Includes: Violence, mature sexual content, strong language. Summary: It was a dark and stormy night when the rift opened. From it spilled warriors of an alien culture bent on finding and destroying the cause of a sickness that plagued their world, all unknowing that the true cause was right under their noses all along.

Five years after the birth of his son, Llane Wrynn, Crown Prince of Stormwind, would learn of a terrible threat to his people, his nation, and his very world. The only natural thing to do is send his son to the protective walls of Northshire Abbey and, all unknowing, to the protection of a great hero, the prodigy-knight Mara Fordragon.

When sickness ravages your very world, you have no choice but to do whatever it takes to cure it, even if it means traveling to another world by means of the foulest of dark sorceries. It means standing at the side of a butcher, a monster, an abuser, a warrior, a chieftain, a hero to your clan. It means putting aside what is right to do what you must.

All these threads and more weave together to bring about a war like any other; two worlds will never be the same again.

Previous: 1st . 2nd . 3rd . 4th . 5th . 6th . 7th . 8th. . 9th . 10th . 11th . 12th . 13th . 14th . 15th . 16th . 17th . 18th . 19th . 20th . 21st . 22nd . 23rd . 24th . 25th . 26th . 27th . 28th . 29th . 

Chapter 7

“Catapults. Human invention. One long shaft with a bucket spoon on the far end. Two ropes, one to pull the shaft down. Another to pull it up. Function is conflict between the two ropes. Shaft is attached at a single point, creating tension between all three. There is a lever to launch and a crank to wind. Considered disassembling to learn how to make new ones. Slapped. Study will be continued through observation of existing weapon only.”

Excerpt from the technical diaries of Griselda Blackhand

“Gently now, gently!”  The man on the table, clad in a bloodstained tabard and the remains of his armour kicked out, and Uther side-stepped the reflexive blow as Brother Arnulf set the soldier’s arm. “That’s it, easy... now we’re going to strap your arm up tight so you can begin to heal. “Boy, bring the splint.”

“Yes, Brother,” Uther said, and hurried over, handing him the strong, sanded pieces of wood. With little prompting, he placed one underneath the injured arm, and Arnulf took the second and placed it on top. Uther quickly clamped his hand around the wood, provoking a grunt from the soldier.

“We have to keep your arm completely still in this position so that it won’t heal crookedly. This will hurt a little, but once we’re done, you can have something once I make sure you can still feel your fingers. Do you understand?”

The man nodded a little, and Arnulf began to wrap a bandage around the man’s arm, holding it tightly as Uther clung as firmly as he could. The soldier grunted, but avoided squirming too badly, much to Uther’s relief.

I’m not sure if I could ever hold a man still, I’m not very strong, Uther thought. I’ll have to ask Brother Arnulf how he gets to be so strong since I know Lady Mara’s way won’t work.

Once the man’s arm was tightly bound and the bandage was tied off, Arnulf gently eased the splinted limb down, allowing Uther to turn and pick up the pitcher of herbal tea that he’d carried from room to room, along with a small cup that he filled.

“Please, drink all of this,” Uther said as he carried the cup back over. “It will ease your pain and allow you to sleep.”

The soldier nodded slightly and, with a little assistance from Arnulf, drank it down, only making a face once or twice before he finished. “It tastes like horse urine.”

“Oh no, horse urine is much more strongly flavoured,” Uther said. “Sometimes, you can even-- never mind.”

Arnulf shrugged, and helped ease the soldier down. “Startling news about equine piss aside, you’re doing a good job, lad. We have a lot more to do before we can rest, so let’s go.”

Uther nodded and collected the pitcher and the remaining cups. Arnulf led Uther over to the next room: this was a full ward of injured, from moaning farmers to silent, staring soldiers. Arnulf went to the first bed and began again, asking soft questions.

Uther set the pitcher down and listened carefully, doing all he could to absorb his teachings. Outside in the hall, other monks hurried from place to place, laden with pitchers and bandages just as Uther was.

Sometimes, he saw the young prince, his sister, and Bolvar hurrying down the hallway, fetching and carrying. Less did he see Lady Mara, though he doubted she was any less busy.

Those who could speak all said the same things: the greenskins are in Redridge. The border has fallen. They have powerful weapons and strong warriors.

Stormwind is under threat.

I just don’t know what we can do about that from here, Uther thought, moving to help Arnulf by holding a tray of instruments while the monk stitched up a gashed thigh. We can take in these people and even get them to Stormwind if needed but we can’t fight them back at the border. Or at least, no one by Lady Mara could do it. If she leaves...

Abbot Faol and Lady Mara didn’t argue about weapons or fighting any more, or at least, not in Uther’s hearing. Instead, his mentor would simply stare at the injured soldiers and the heaps of ruined armour or discarded weapons and shake his head as he moved about the abbey organizing more treatment rooms and locating supplies from seemingly nowhere.

Are we really safe here? Uther wondered. Is that what Abbot Faol sees when he looks at the soldiers? Is that what Lady Mara sees when she sees farmers and fishers groaning from their wounds?

“Lad, come along,” Arnulf said. Uther quickly followed, and blinked as they left the room. “Pass Simon and Mason your things, they’ll take over.”

“...but we’re not done, there are still--”

“It won’t do you any good if you half-kill yourself to help others,” Arnulf said kindly. “There will be more patients, but there is only one you. The Queen is overseeing the kitchens, and I’m sure if you look at her hungrily, she’ll feed you.”

“I’m not that hungry,” Uther protested, and his stomach instantly made a liar out of him. “...will you be eating too?”

“I need to speak to the abbot,” Arnulf said. “Go on, lad. Take your rest.”

Uther nodded, and passed the pitcher to Arnulf before he headed off to the kitchens.

[fitzefitcher]

I already talked about this on my Twitter a little bit but guess who has a concussion lmao

I’m extremely limited on what I can do to keep myself occupied while I recover (very very extremely limited screen time so no viddy games, no digital drawing) so I’m just doodling w pen and paper

Currently doing more concepts for characters in fel orc au so idk I guess I’m taking requests sort of? Lemme know if y’all wanna see anybody in particular, like as an example here are Blackhand’s children (Rend, Maim, & Griselda, in that order)

Just know I won’t be able to color them for like another week if that lmao