… Can I point out that marching to Ironforge to deliver a dwarf, and then leaving is putting in too much trust in the Alliance that you´re disliking right now?
Like, I know that the Alliance doesn´t really have… Do we have anyone noteworthy to represent the Alliance? Anyone at all?
Hecc it, just leave him at Dun Modr, he´ll find his way back. No need to go on a limb on trusting a bunch of dwarves to let you leave after shaving Tunderbraid´s beard.
Don’t worry, we won’t physically be walking up to the gates of Ironforge. Even us terrorists realize how crazy that would be! Exactly how it goes down will be revealed tomorrow, when it happens.
This is Grannd news
Too bad you can’t shoot beards from a catapult. 
Greenskins in Warhammer would like a word.
Just wanna mention, if this is aimed at the black moon lot, why in Stormwind? You wont find many Black Moon Kaldorei hanging about cities, will be busy making decorations from Horde giblets somewhere… Could be better to put them on Trees in Ashenvale or something.
AFAIK the night elves are just a convenient scapegoat for violently bullying the Alliance and giving Thunderbraid atomic wedgies.
She took the pamphlet, eyeing it curiously on her way back to her inn-room. More propaganda, the Nightborne assumed, scanning it blankly until she read the name. Alryette paused in her steps, stopping to reread the missive in its entirety.
The Lunar Festival, the ‘Black Moon’. She had been there and felt their treacherous bite. She had culled their invaders through their reaches and mounted heads on stakes. Smiling, she folded it up, tucking it into her harness. Justice indeed…
“So the race to find the Black-Eyed Cripple is on,” she mused softly to herself, grinning at the thought of her long awaited Tal’ashar, “May the best Huntress win.”
At what time will this take place? Or is it not something that is actually happening?
I would like to see them try. You know, for comedic effect. Watch some dwarf get slapped in the face with Thunderbraid’s beard, then reel back in horror as he realizes what it is.
Since there’s been a lot of interest from people to attend it we’re altering the time of Thunderbraid’s ‘delivery’. Originally the plan was for it to be done this afternoon but we want to give people a chance to participate in it.
So we will be doing it on Wednesday 29th at 8PM server time.
There won’t be a dry eye in Khaz Modan while the Brigadier-General is in captivity.
A bold prediction for Wednesday:
The stand-off was tense. Giantrender and Meng dragged the belligerent dwarf toward the sloped path to Ironforge. Gagged and tied, Thunderbraid could do nothing but accept whatever fate was in store for him this day.
Various mountaineers and city guardsmen began to encircle the Path of Glory; they were in enemy territory, and care need be taken. They kept the Brigadier-General close.
The Orc, his skin of coal stark against the snow of Dun Morogh, stepped forward. “Alliance–!” he bellowed, before a shadow passed overhead.
The Bjora had crested the mountain – and now hurtled toward them at an alarming speed. Grannd Thunderbraid had not been forgotten by his friends of old, nor the crew of his infamous battle cruiser.
…
Queteron glared suspiciously at Grelind, as the shaman frantically pressed buttons and pulled levers. “I thought you knew how to fly this thing.”
“I told you, I failed my test after I reversed into the Skybreaker!” Brigadier Stormfeather cried. “I never got my license!”
Somewhere, a crewsman screamed. The Bjora wasn’t slowing down.
The mountains weep over the humiliation of one of their sons. 
https://i.gyazo.com/cf3c7f5c1031a0714910989f96373b05.png
Dare I say Och?
That made me laugh more than it should have.
Says who? I know a good bunch of dwarf’s who’ll be laughing there backsides of that the old fart got captured.
Somewhere in Quel’thalas an unshaven Ranger-Captain wakes up, his cheek gummed by last nights Port drool to stupid amounts of paperwork, opens up a scarred and bleary eye, snarling “Did somebody say the Bjora is back? Remember Krasarang? I remember Krasarang! Never Forget!” Remember Krasarang!"
A junior Equerry utters, “I thought it was remember the Sunwell?”
“What, No, but what would you know, you weren’t there…You weren’t -there- maaan! Right, I’ll need the keys to the Mark 1 Annihilatrix Tactical Mana Bombs, they broke down its shields last time…”
The Equerry shifts awkwardly “I think you’ll find Sir, that in the current state of political détente, such weapons are deemed excessive and a public relations disaster, not to mention over inflammatory to the Alliance at this time”
The Ranger Captain narrows his eyes and jabs with his bone cane “Are you saying I can’t nuke the Bjora?”
“I’m afraid it would be deemed politically unacceptable Sir, Times have changed…”
The elf collapses back onto his desk, growling at the injustice of it all, a ‘Bjora’ shaped hole suddenly missing in his life… He reached into his drawer and took out a bottle.
“Let me tell you this laddie, Times may change…War might change…”
He opens the bottle and pours it into a tankard…
“But Port…Port Never Changes…”
I thought I had no idea what was happening before, now I definitely haven’t got a damned clue.