Who, in order, were until recently the small amount of undead in Lordaeron who regained their free will and were rallied by Sylvanas, the remnants of the quel’dorei numbering only 9% of their pre-war population, goblins, that’s fair, the ogres are only one tribe and it’s one of the smaller ones, the Darkspear Tribe’s population is comparable to the gnomes, who lost 80% of their people: the trolls were so few they fit onto the ships carrying the entire Orcish Horde to Kalimdor, and the tauren. Who, barring the Bloodhoof Tribe that was nearing extinction, were probably the most numerous Horde race until Cata, when the Forsaken acquired the means to steadily “reproduce” and the goblins joined.
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On another note while again browsing through Day of the Dragon to confirm some unrelated tidbits, I came across a bit that implies that laconic speech is common among Stromics.
Although the first impression is described as them being unnecessarily rude, it’s further elaborated that they value honesty and have mastered the art of short and precise sentences to convey their meaning across without needing to buffer it with filler words and that directness is often seen as them being rude. They don’t beat around the bush, they simply say what they truly feel be it an insult or a compliment. Long silences are common, though they are not intended as insults:
"A native of cold, mountainous Stromgarde, he much preferred action over talk."
They’re not screaming barbarians as they’re often made out to be in RP, but simply men and women of few words who would sooner act than talk. A trait attributed to their close kinship with the Bronzebeards. Where Wildhammers picked their High elf bffs, the Bronzebeards picked Stromgarde as their closest neighbour.
But nobody was best friends with the Dark Iron. Their neighbours were orcs.
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Man, the more I learn about Stromgarde, the more I like them!
I’ve probably talked about it before, but felhunters grow larger the more magic they absorb and once they’ve had enough, they split. A single felhunter can become a swarm if they’ve enough magic to feed on and their mage victims are described as withered, lifeless husks.
They’re not immune to magic though. Khadgar blows the side of one wide open by catching it off guard with an arcane blast. It wasn’t enough to kill the berserk felhunter, but it shows they can be harmed by magic. It’s when they have their attention on you that they’ll start absorbing your spells, indicating it’s an active ability they must use.
When the felhunter in The Last Guardian charges Khadgar, it ricochets his spells away with its horned skull, showing that at the very least their skull is actually immune to magic and capable of deflecting projectiles.
Also in War of the Ancients, Cenarius kills a massive felhunter (like gargantuan) by allowing it to feed on his magic, gorging itself full until it had too much and exploded because Cenarius didn’t give it a chance to multiply, showing that the multiplication of felhunters is something they must do to diffuse the excess magic they have.
Long story short, mages in-universe are deadly afraid of felhunters and its variants. If it has its (proverbial) eyes on you, you’re toast. Run.
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There was also that huge one in one of the manga’s. Sylvanas’ banshee scream nullified its healing effects, allowing it to be slain.
High King Maulgar is still alive in canon, as he is seen announcing the updated Circle of Blood arena in Legion, so it seems he survived Gruul’s fall. However he only has a normal ogre model now, rather than being an Ogre Lord.
Not dissimilar to the faeries of Ardenweald, pixies are a species of demigods native to Azeroth, resembling small, sword-wielding men with butterfly wings. Taking into account their status as demigods and lore from the RPG (albeit non-canon), one can assume they have a connection to the Emerald Dream.
If we’re going by the Gordunni, ogre leaders seem to take on/inherit a singular name (in their case, King Gordok) so one could assume this is a new King Maulgar.
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The moon is culturally important to the orcs and I’ve brought receipts.
Orcs tell passage of time by lunar cycles.
Unto Durotan, Chieftain of the Frostwolf clan, the shaman Ner’zhul gives greetings.
I have been granted visions by the ancestors that concern us all, as orcs, rather than as individual clan members. I would speak with the leaders of all the clans on the twelfth day of this moon, as well as every shaman of every clan. You are to come to the foot of the sacred mountain. Meat and drink will be provided. If you cannot attend, I will take it as a sign that you do not care for the future of our people and act accordingly.
Forgive my brusqueness, but this matter is of the utmost urgency. Please respond via my courier.
Two moons ago, Palkar recalled painfully as he rose and returned to his own sleeping skins, Drek’Thar had insisted that runners be sent to Ashenvale, because a group of orcs was about to slaughter a peaceable gathering of tauren and kaldorei druids. Runners had been sent, indeed, warnings issued—and nothing had happened. The only thing that had been accomplished by listening to the old orc was that the night elves had grown more suspicious.
“There’s much more. Once every five hundred and forty-seven years, there’s a celestial event that involves these three stars. see that reddish dot in the middle of the book? That’s the first thing that appears. In about a month you’ll be able to see a comet streaking through the scepter. And at the next moon cycle, the moon will be full right smack in the middle of the Eye. Apparently it’s quite the spectacle, according to these notes.”
“Yes. the Alliance is hunting us,” he shouted, “and yes, we are no match for them today. But one day, and that day soon, we will be! Here we can rest, recover, and strategize. Here we will launch attacks, as we have already been doing for the last several turns of their moons. We will grow strong again. We will become the predators once more, and the humans will quake with fear!” He jerked his axe to a stop and held it still above his head, lowering his voice so his words fell softly into the sudden quiet. 'And one day we, the Horde, will rise and take our vengeance against the humans with a true and final victory!"
Kosh'harg begins at moon-rise with a ceremony that involves venerating the moon's light by dancing and singing to the moon.
The festival had officially started last night at moon-rise, though orcs had been gathering at this spot for several days now. The Kosh’harg celebration had been held on this sacred spot in the land the orcs called Nagrand, “Land of Winds,” which lay in the benevolent shadow of the “Mountain of Spirits,” Oshu’gun, for as long as anyone could remember.
Durotan sighed quietly, his thoughts racing, his heart thumping in answering rhythm to the voice of the drums outside. Last night had been wonderful, stirring Durotan’s soul. When the Pale Lady cleared the dark line of trees, in Her waning phase but still bright enough to cast a powerful light that was reflected on the blankets of white snow, a cheer had gone up from the throat of every one of the thousands of orcs assembled—wise elders warriors in their prime, even children held in their mother’s strong arms. The wolves, both companions and mounts to the orcs,had joined in with exultant howls. The sound shivered along Durotan’s veins as the drumming did now, a deep, primal cry of salutation to the white orb who commanded the night skies. Durotan had glanced around to behold a sea of powerful beings raising their brown hands, silvered in the light, to the Pale Lady, all with one focus.
They reached the flat river valley that for generations had played host to the Kosh’harg festival. As his feet touched the sacred ground. Durotan felt himself relaxing slightly. Memories came back to him, and he smiled as they brushed his mind. He recalled that fateful night when he and Orgrim had both decided to fly in the face of tradition and dared to spy on the adults as they spoke—and how disappointed both had been at the mundane conversations. Wiser now, he was sure that he and Orgrim, bold though they had thought themselves at the time, had likely not been the first to be so daring, nor were they likely to be the last.
He recalled, too, his first real glimpse of the female who would become his life-mate, hunting in these lush fields, dancing around the fire to the sound of the drums throbbing in his veins, and chanting to the moon.
As glorious as his life with Draka was, as proud as he was of his clan, how much happier would he be simply doing as his father had done—hunting the beasts of the woods and fields, dancing in the moonlight at Kosh’harg festivals, listening to the old tales and basking in the loving warmth of the ancestors.
Here he had danced, had sung to the moon, had conspired with a boyhood friend, had courted his beloved. Here generations of orcs had celebrated their unity on a place so holy that any fights that broke out had been halted immediately, the combatants ordered to make peace or to depart.
Om'riggor also traditionally takes place at full moon, and it's a tradition Thrall revived with the New Horde.
Last night, with the moon full overhead and the stars gleaming as if in approval, a young male was initiated into adulthood. It was the first time I have had the chance to be part of this ritual, the Om’riggor. In my earlier years, I was cut off from the rites and traditions of my people; and truth be told, all orcs had been cut off from such rites for too long. And once I had set my feet on my destiny’s path, I had become embroiled in battle. War consumed me. Ironically, the need to protect my people from the Burning Legion and to give them a place where our traditions could again flourish took me far away from these things.
But now, Durotar and Orgrimmar are established. Now, there is a peace, tenuous though it might be. Now there are shaman reclaiming the ancient ways, young males and females coming of age who, if the spirits will it, may never know the ashy taste of war.
Last night, I participated in a timeless ritual that had been denied an entire generation.
Last night, my heart was filled with joy and the sense of connection for which I had always longed.
Their wedding ceremonies take place at full moon
He broke his fast with the two people in his clan he trusted most: Draka, his intended, whom he would wed with full ceremony at the next full moon, and Drek’Thar, the new head shaman of the clan.
Sometimes orcs seek guidance from the moons to find the insight for troubling questions
Thrall had largely kept to himself since the argument with Aggra last night. But now, as he sat alone with only the moons and the stars for company, he knew he needed to seek her out. Aggra had wisdom and insight, although recently he found that he often disliked what she had to say. And he was clearly in no position to make a decision without support, or else he would have been able to say yea or nay at once to the mighty Aspect. Slowly he rose and walked back to the hut.
“Did the moons give you guidance?” Aggra asked softly in the darkness. He should have known better than to think that his movements, however quiet, would not have awakened her.
On top of all this, we know from WoD that the Shadowmoon looked to the stars and the lunar cycles for patterns to tell the future, which is how their clan got their name and the Shadowmoon Burial Grounds has that lunar circle for rituals concerning this practice.
It’s also implied that Azeroth and Draenor share moons, since in WoD we see Elune’s presence manifest at Lunarfall and Draenor’s two moons are called the Pale Lady (White Lady on Azeroth) and a smaller blue moon. You can see Azeroth in the night sky from the Black Temple, showing their proximity to one another. Outland exists at the border between reality and the Twisting Nether.
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Khadgar is destroying evidence.
I can’t recall ever seeing that.
https://i.imgur.com/CHTJ8Im.jpeg
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Oh that. Feels like a mistake. Draenor is not one of Azeroth’s moons! Or is it…?
I was always under the impression that it was a magical conjuration of Azeroth so that Illidan could brood even harder, rather than it actually being Azeroth in the night sky.
But some of the other evidence that Telaryn brings indicates otherwise.
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So this is probably common knowledge to all warlocks after today, but Incubi and Succubi aren’t seperate genders. The sayaad demons simply have the ability to take either form at will, or indeed at the preference of their master.
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There are kaldorei wisps in Stormwind City nowadays, likely following the tide of refugees from the burning of Teldrassil.
I think that ties well into general demonic mythos across genres. Demons are not physical beings of the material realm why would they be gender locked? Sure they can have a preference but even the Daedra of the Elder Scrolls universe go back and forth.
Which would be a neat rule for demons in Warcraft but the writers decided that a staggering amount of demons are actually other races imbued by fel as opposed to entities spawned from chaotic energies.
So I suppose there are “real” demons like the sayaad and shivarra and then the rest are like a weird amalgamated group of organic beings that are just really hopped up on fel juices.
Here I am, just wondering where the female felguard, wrathguard, imp and male shivarra are.
Why was only the succubus a problem anyway?
Are man’ari eredar and should have ladies. The question is, could we mortals tell the difference?
Imp-mothers presumably farting out spawn in the tub.