This has to be one of the best RP guilds on the realm, the officers are always around or plotting storylines, the players are active include all different sorts of people in RP, and then thereâs the scheduled RP events. Often if not always NPCâd making the grunt life feel very varied and rich.
I didnât know what to expect when joining HoC, but really itâs not just a single guild with a single goal. Itâs part of a huge friendly community!
What @Rhaewon said.
Have had lots of fun the past few days, fighting versus the HoC during our ongoing RP-PvP events.
I have also had the pleasure of RPing with them from their point of view. At 8 PM server time, it is not uncommon for 10+ people to be online, officers included.
Great guild who makes for good IC rivalry and IC/OOC comradery alike!
For some reason my post got deletedâŠ
HoC is a lovely guild where the events i have been able to take part in, have been interactful, unique and fun. Honestly a breath of fresh air compared to the usual /roll events i am used to taking part in.
Iâm glad to see the many recent posts showing their support for the Hand of Conquest.
Whether or not the deleted post above was a troll doesnât matter too much to me.
What does matter is that all of our members are encouraged to reach out to an officer if they take issue with how the guild is run or if they feel something can be improved.
With the shift in power for the Horde, a lot has changed for how a grunt RPer must carry themselves. With less harsh punishments and bigger tolerance for the general public, things are very different for us.
Itâs strange to me that someone feels they need to wait with giving us feedback on how weâre doing until after they leave the guild, and are so intimidated by the thought of speaking up that they post from a WoW Classic alt.
I hope that anyone who has cool ideas or concerns regarding HoC will reach out to me through the usual channels.
Stay tuned for more Grunt shenanigans!
Great OOC community, spending time doing content with you guys or just chilling on discord is always great fun, and i am so grateful i get to be a part of it. Unlike many guilds iâve been you officers take the time, and have the patience to recruit and teach new rpers the doâs and donâts of RP and it makes me really proud. Some of the kindest people iâve met in WoW. Really sucks that we in HoC are sometimes exposed to hateful whispers from people who do not know us, or are only familiar with past members and their past actions. It is unfair to you officers who put your heart and soul into making this guild the welcoming, friendly, and great place it is. The Valley would not be the same without you Toq, Spix, Apawi, Gobbert.
I have had a great deal of fun RP-PVPing with everyone in this guild in the events where we have come together to fight it out.
Although my character IC hates the lot of them with a vengeance because they are after all a bunch of filthy horde.
Oh come on! I wanted to see his almighty responseâŠdamn.
The Winterspring wind whipped around the valley, cutting through the trees and creeping into the ruins where the Thirteenth currently took shelter. The caravan kodo and its rider that they were escorting were dead, killed by several assailant who then assaulted the grunts.
The battle was well-fought against foes of frost and ice, the Thirteenth were victorious, the cargo secured. Their mission now was to finish the delivery, as well as find more of these attackers and put an end to them so that the routes were secure once again.
While the Thirteenth huddled around warm fires or slept on comfortable furs, a lone figure stood guard outside of the ruins. The snow landed on the lone guard, yet they made no attempt to brush it off as it slowly piled on and around them.
Unholy, blue eyes stared out over the dark valley, scanning for any signs of movement that would threaten the camp. The cold bite of the wind had no effect, for not a shiver or breath of air escaped from this eternal guard.
The Thirteenthâs lone death knight, a fungus-riddled tauren, would ensure that all would get their sleep that night, even if she was despised for what she was. Some of the grunts showed her kindness and respect, yet the air of distrust still hung in the ranks.
It mattered not. They would prove their worth over and over again. Every trial, every order, every command, to be obeyed and followed. To protect Orgrimmar and its citizens.
A worthy path to redeeming themselves of their crimes.
The Valley was quiet. Just the howls of distance wind and beasts in the air.
The snow continued to fall. Her hooves were now buried in snow.
She remained still.
Staring.
Watching.
Waiting.
Congratulations to our newest officers, Omavi and Gonrash!
Weâve got an upcoming event chain, starting next week⊠meaning now is the time to join, if youâre interested!
I would certainly recommend joining up if youâre a filthy horde grunt. If not for being on a righteous crusade to cleanse the lands of the horde defilers and of course being an elf of superior skill and intellect I would certainly be very tempted to sign up.
Some say it was Worrigâs speed that set flame to Teldrassil.
My favourite grunts to give a cold beer and some salted pork to while on duty. 
Let it be known that any grunt caught drinking on duty will be severely beaten.
Cool mini-campaign for the Hand of Conquest coming up, now would be a GREAT time to join in on the fun!
Canât wait to kill some evil Sand Trolls! Too long have they tried to infiltrate our beautiful capital. Now the time has come to kick them back to their desert holes.
For the Horde!
Among the supplies of the Thirteenth, a journal is located next to one of the packs. Written on the front is the following: 'Property of NĂŒying Bloodpaw. Do not read or I will bite your arm off.'
Journal Update. Fifth day in the desert.
Havenât had the chance to update my journal since we left Gadgetzan. Our trek into the desert has been more event filled than one would of imagined, as our group were ambushed by Alliance truce breakers during our journey to one of our outposts.
We managed to hold them off time and time again. They must of realized they couldnât take us down easily, so the cowards instead decided to focus on destroying our water supplies. I guess killing us in combat is too difficult for them to achieve.
They forget, however, that the Horde thrive in the most inhospitable places on Azeroth. We managed to salvage supplies and secure a water source. The elves of the Dirge and the gnomes and dwarves of the Assembly most likely ran away to a more resource filled area to compensate for their lack of survival skills.
We almost had them though. Reinforced by the Highblood Myrmidons, we managed a good fight before being forced to pull back. Not sure how much damage we inflicted on them. Was too focused on covering others and having a yelling match with one of the nightborne.
Took a fair beating covering the others during the fight and on our retreat. Thankfully, my wounds are being mended. Might have a new scar by the end of all this.
A new day comes. Might be able to find something else in this desert to help us deal with these Alliance truce breakers. Hopefully we will, as I was just getting started with that fight and I am eager to go again.
You suddenly have a dreaded feeling come over as a voice speaks up.
âARE YOU READING MY JOURNAL!?â
The sun shot the last ray of light down the cave path and Pullo crept slowly across itâs rocks towards the opening. There a great edge of carved stone met the desert sand below, he was lightly covered, nothing but the mix of chain and metal on his legs and the harness across his chest â a quiver stocked with arrows and the axe by his side as a familiar wolf prowled by his side. Months across Kalimador they had tracked, his face was hairy now, as was the top of his scalp, Pullo had forgotten how quickly hair grew. Careful not to tread on loose rock the two kept to the shadows of the cave, observant and silent as the wind howled through the rocky tunnel. Pullo had expected traps but found none, he had expected a fight but still found none.
Upon the rise out of the tunnel there a large shadow blotted out the setting sun. No, not one shadow; two. Pullo moved to a small ditch in the rocks with his wolf and observed two large creatures, they were speaking loud enough that it echoed in the cave and the Orc immediately recognize the tongue. The Orc squinted his eyes as he looked over, it was Bearan â his prize, and someone else he spoke to; someone familiar. The Orc struggled to see who it was in the shadow, her back turned to him but Tauren nonetheless with those sprouting horns. Omavi? Pullo thought, had she proved herself worthy of the hunt? No, wait âŠ
This one has both legs.
Pullo knocked his arrow wearily as not to make a sound his mind was fixated on the two. He could barely grasp their tongue.
âI cared for you.â Spoke the woman, her robes tattered and sand choked.
âI made you into a force of justice. A shield against the darkness attacking the Horde. And everything I taught and gave you, you turned against me. Do you have ANY idea how much I sacrificed for the Horde?! How much I lost?!â Her words were filled with rage, and in that moment it clicked.
It was her. The Seer. He was shocked, lowering his bow in disbelief as he watched, the wolf looked back at him in similar fashion. Pulloâs eyes narrowed, and he rose from the ditch and into the shadows once more, creeping forward to better catch the conversation. Bearan teetered on the edge of the cliff, and it seems the two had been talking for sometime.
âAll for naught. The Horde is dead. Only vultures remain to feast on its remains, after the lion and its snakes tore it to pieces. Even after all you did. I protected you. From Orgrimmarâs wrath. Do not choose the easy way out. The Earthmother does not embrace those who force their own destiny.â The Seer pleaded with Bearan on the end of her lips, but her words tasted of poison.
Pullo slowly moved forward on his bare feet, no doubt Bearan could see him now. He wanted the Old Bull to see, the wolf in tow prowling with itâs back low ready to pounce. The two locked eyes for but a moment before he scoffed back at the Seer.
âI have sinned. I do not regret abandoning you. Abandoning the new Horde, under the rule of its KING! But ⊠Omavi deserved, she deserved ⊠â He paused. âShe deserved better. She, too, saw what you were ⊠â Hatred ran in his gaze.
âI will pay for my sins. JUSTICE will find me. I wonât lie to myself as you do.â Bearan shouted loudly.
The Tauren scolded the bull back, âShe deserved worse, after all her betrayal. After the Shuâhalo she has slain. After how she turned you into ⊠This.â She paused, looking over the old beast.
âWe will all pay for our sins. You for yours. I for my own.â
It seemed like she was putting it all in now, the last of the serpents tongue slithering itâs words. âCome to Stonetalon, and face justice like a Sunwalker. Answer for Aaroâs death.â
The Old Bull roared out. âShe betrayed NO ONE! She tried to calm my spirit! She tried to make me see sense! To turn me away from⊠from this anger! This maddening anger! Even now, I ⊠itâs torn my spirit! I canât see naught, but red fire! This is what YOU have turned me into! Your justice is cruelty, and your wisdom is a LIE!â He spoke harshly, as if the words were burning his throat. His voice broke slightly, the anger and remorse tearing him up inside. Pullo listened well standing there behind the shadow of the setting sun. Resolve hardened the Orcs heart, his face a grim and sunken. He understood Bearan, for all that happened â he knew. What was he but a rusty tool, a broken trap. Like himself.
âAs you tread the desert, would you call the blistering sun cruel? Come home, Bearan. This does not have to be your end.â She said with some brief compassion.
Bearan looked to the sun sinking into the distance, he sighed and spoke softly now. âEvery day I have spent here, fur bleached under the sun has been less painful than the hatred you have put within me every day I have known you.â
She retorted quickly, âYou chose to be what you are, Earthshatter. I had little part in it. Even before destiny made our paths cross, you were cruel.â Her gaze upon the Old Bull cold again.
He turned, his gaze looked towards Pullo. âMy time is up. Justice has come. Perhaps in time you will face your own.â
The Orc drew his bow with the barbed arrow, making his presence known. He was silent, solemn, he would take no pleasure on what was about to be done. The Seer glanced over her shoulder and snarled. A rock fell from under Bearans foot and the ledge, tumbling down the cliff-face. The Tauren responded harshly, âEven here, the vultures come circling.â
âHe has come for me. And I deserve it. For⊠for what I have done⊠I was told this one cheered as the Alliance stormed Orgrimmar. Stood outside the barracks and crowed for your death. He is no less a traitor than me. Fitting. A traitor killing a traitor. â
Pullo did not care to argue, there was no point. Even if he thought it was not true.
âYour punishment is not for him to decide.â The Seer quickly snapped, turning her attention back on Bearan. The Old Bull glanced over his shoulder towards the great sword sticking out from Silithus, barely visible against the moonlight.
âPerhaps this is the Earthmotherâs judgement. Alliance, Horde⊠none of us deserve this world. Perhaps it should end; and must end, for justice to be met.â
âCall yourself whatever you wish, Bearan. But that does not change how you were my brother.â The Seer dismissed his self pity, and the bull looked back at her with disdain. âI was nothing to you but a servant with a sword.â
âWe are all servants, under the Earthmotherâs will. But you were my closest friend. A traitor, a sinner, a murderer. But my friend. You do not have to end here.â The Tauren pleaded, attempting to coy him from the edge. It wasnât working.
âI killed innocent, defenseless people in your name. Dozens ⊠perhaps more! I defended your name, every time someone questioned you. I thought you STRONG. But now, I can see that my bloodlust was simply a weapon for you to TWIST. To MANIPULATE.â Bearan barked. He glanced back at Pullo, wondering if it would be the fall behind him or the speed of the arrow which would finally put him out of his maddened misery. But the Seer was not done yet, slithering her words towards him once more.
âThen why am I here, after you have outlived your usefulness? Why am I here, pleading for you to live? Think of your children. They deserve answers. I will not let you damn your soul through suicide!â
âHe came for me days before you.â Bearan gestured to Pullo, it was true. He had been watching, waiting for the moment he might be alone. Exposed.
âAnother traitor to the Horde. I suppose treason runs through my blood like mud in a river.â His spear leaned itself towards her with warning, but the Seer gently pushed it away and tried to draw closer.
âBearan. Look at me. I will not let you damn your soul through suicide. Your spirit cannot linger this wasteland for eternity. Not after all you did. Your heroism. Your crimes. You must meet Her, and be judged.â She looked directly into his tired, old eyes. The Old Bull nostrils flared, he breathed heavy and then a sudden, savage fury filled his heart. Hatred and sorrow smashed together and he snarled. Bearan launched his spear towards the Seerâs chest as she came closer, her final poisoned words would cost her.
âEnough of your LIES!â He yelled out.
The Tauren caught the blade with her left hand, and growled deeply as it cut into the flesh of her palm. âI will not-⊠Argh! Let you damn your soul through suicide!â The Seer angrily repeated. Bearan roared one last time, âYou are a liar! YOU turned me into this! YOU brought anger and venom into my spirit! May you ROT in the fires of justice! May you BURN! May you DIE and let your SOUL be j- ⊠â Her right hand rose as she blasted Bearan with sunflames.
In turn, Pullo loosed an arrow, but it failed to meet its mark. He charged forward with his wolf, dropping his bow to the ground and launched himself forward in the struggle. But it was too late to stop her.
He stumbled, and then fell backwards. The Old Bull tumbled off the edge.
âSo I shall damn my own through murder!â She cried out before collapsing to the side. The Orc wrestled her away, yelling out for Bearan with little hope as he teetered off the desert edge, and there watched him crash to the rocky sands below.
His hand clutched the edge of the carved stone face, his own lit with anger. His body trembled with untempered rage. âY-you-!.. Treacherous DOG!â The Seer barked out towards him, his wolf growled at her in turn.
Pulloâs eyes boiled with fury and he charged the Seer. âNO MORE!â He commanded.
The Orcs gauntlets met the Taurens body, blows upon blow came upon her in his bloodlust. Tears and blood splattered on the Seerâs cheeks, wounded hand tried to bring a scorching barrier to protect herself from him. His eyes glared red and turned into terrible fury. His hands smashed forward into the flames, uncaring for the fire that singed his flesh. Blow after blow came as he sought to smash Apawi to the ground. To ruin her. To kill her.
Knocked back, struggling to keep the rampaging Orc at bay the Tauren tried to brunt the force but failed, falling to the ground. Pulloâs gauntlets - smouldering from the fires around the Seer - came down upon her again and again. She could not withstand with brute force alone â he was always the better fighter.
âAll the people that I have murdered by letting you live!â Pullo roared out. Blow for blow came down upon her face, she took a beating. Spitting out blood and phlegm. The flaming barrier faltered, leaving her completely exposed. He wailed, punched and smashed against the Taurenâs body with the same bloody strength until finally, he dragged the Seer by the ruined threads of that tattered robe to stand. A piercing, sharp plunge of a dagger enters his belly. The Orc breath left him, as did his momentum. The Seer tried to collect her battered self, clawing against the Orcâs face, shoving the knife deeper into his stomach. Gritting her teeth and growling, blood dripping from her mouth the Tauren channelled the flames of the sun through the enchanted steel. âI will destroy you from within, as your kind have destroyed the Horde!â She cried out. The Orc yelled in pain as the fire burned him from within, the pain had shocked him back into action and with both smoking hands they clasped against the Seerâs own head, attempting to snap her neck. She tore herself away with a smash of her elbow, pulling the dagger from his stomach. Bloodied and bruised, she stood off against the two wolves, sunfire glowing in both hands.
The Orc let out heavy, laboured breaths, blood dripped from the marks dug into his face, the large hand clutched his stomach burned with fire. There was a silence in the air, the tension thick as they both stared with hatred in their eyes. Pullo was fighting with fists alone, the Seer with all her might â survival was on the agenda; the Orc had no tricks, it was all in now. He let out a sharp whistle, the massive wolf leapt forward towards the Seerâs left, and Pullo to the right. Both made it difficult as she blasted fire at their directions, darting across the floor like the hounds they were until finally lunging themselves at their meal. In turn the Seer thought herself cunning, and in the last moment darted backwards in hope the two dogs would crash together, and burn. But Pullo rolled across the floor, and the wolf leaped directly at the Tauren as sunfire burned the hairs of the wolfâs body.
The beast yelped as the fires smashed her aside, the Taurenâs entire energy focused on the biting beast just long enough to let Pullo skirt to the side and grab his bow, and in quick succession, fire a barbed tip towards the Seerâs exposed knee. The arrow met its target, barely. The Taurenâs hasty flaming barrier shattered, taking much of the force of the arrow as it lodged itself in the knee. The broken arrow lodged in her knee caused the Seer to buckle, she screamed out in pain, trembling in itâs stew. She brought the barrier high again to meet the Orcs arrows, and the darting wolf behind her, looking for an opening before finally falling low to a blast of sunfire.
Pullo roared out for his friend, withdrawing his axe and charged forward.
The axe swung down with every last bit of power left in his body, smashing down on that flaming shield, it exploded into a ball of flame that singed his exposed chest; but he cared little. Fighting through the searing pain the Orc brought the axe up and down with weary swings, his stomach dripping foul until finally he bludgeoned the hilt of his axe into her chin. The Seer staggered back from the blow, attempting to catch the Orcâs weapon by the handle, the Taurens natural brawn keeping it steady as she reached out for Pulloâs mangy beard to gore him with those old horns.
Releasing the grip of the axe, the Seer jolted forward and both worn spiked fists met her snout â fracturing with a horrible crunch.
Hatred, grief and pure adrenaline ran in them both, but the drive in the Seer to live smashed against the Orcâs own. Headbutt after headbutt, blow after blow came down on Pullo and the Seer both until the last of the fury of the Tauren charged â horns down. He drew her in, letting the Seer come close until suddenly he dropped to the floor and kicked out at the her fractured, pierced knee.
She stumbled and fell forward, skidding along the stone floor. Dust kicked up, the Tauren cried out in pain as she clutched her wounded leg, coughing blood from the ruined snout. Pullo in turn clutched his own stomach, breathing out slowly, his burnt body charred from fire, his skin ruined and blistered â his gnarled gauntlets resting on the stone. He could feel the pain all around him, and he in turn looked over to his companion limping on the floor. A cold laugh came from the fallen Seer.
âHrah-⊠See to her⊠You need me to save her.â The Seer bargained, ripping the barbed arrow out of her leg. She harshly cauterised the wound with a great amount of pain. The Orc looked around, ignoring the threats. The air was thick with the hot desert wind.
âItâs finally here ⊠isnât it. The moment we both dreamed about.â Pullo said with tired breath, gazing out to the near empty sky as darkness swept in on the horizon. The bargaining fell on deaf ears, they both knew they were buying time to breathe.
The Taurenâs gaze turned to anger again, she was quick to change her tone. âYou killed him. You betrayed the Thirteenth and forced us into hiding. You hunted him here! I hope you taste the same pain I taste, as you lose your beast!.â
Again, the Orc let her preach, as she had always done. He watched her struggle with that broken knee. Reaching out for his bow, he went to knock an arrow, but the Tauren had burned the string away. He grunted, letting it fall back to the ground, his eyes narrowed as silence filled the cave but finally he looked over at the broken Seer.
âIâm through playing, Apawi.â
Apawi dragged herself forward with her staff, limping closer. Her gaze was fixated on him. âThis was never a game to me.â She remarked coldly.
âYou both live on borrowed time. You died in Lordaeron. She died in Tranquilen. Both returned by Anâsheâs will. Youâve outlived your gift.â The Orc sighed, the hatred was gone; only pain remained. Looking up to Apawi he moved his hand towards his belt, the Seer cautiously narrowed her eyes and watched his every move with suspicion
âOne life must pay for Bearanâs. Which shall it be?â Apawi taunted.
âNo more wretched, twisted tales from your mouth! Bearan, Omavi, the Thirteenth. You damned them all.â Pullo barked, his hand clutching his stomach as he looked up to Apawi, she in turn could nearly laugh back â but she resisted.
âOmavi damned herself. After I saved her, and spared her, she betrayed me yet again. All to climb to a rank she is unfit to have. How many Grunts will die because of her incompetence? I suppose it matters little.â
He shook his head, âIn Stormsong you died upon those cliffs, and at Orgrimmar you should have stayed dead.â His voice dry, remorse leaving his lips.
âI died in Taurajo.â
Pullo gave a solemn nod in silence.
Apawi watched for a moment and then, waved her staff, bringing two blasts of sunflame to crash down on both wolves. Pullo gave one last whistle, he had sprung his final trap.
With her gaze focused on the Orc for so long wolf had escaped. The large, snarling beast leapt from the darkness behind. Large fangs came down upon Apawiâs neck as she tried to move, pinned by the great beast tearing at the gambeson, drawing blood and ripping at flesh as the two wrestled by the cliffâs edge.
The Orc was consumed in the blast of fire, the side of his body burned in flame once more as he tried to move. His energy spent, he lay on the floor watching helplessly as wolf tore at the Seer. Ripping, twisting and crushing â the great beasts massive size more than a match for Apawi, who rained the last of her magic upon her. Thrashing her like a ragdoll, both bodies were battered and ruined in the ensuring struggle â until finally they succumb. Pullo stumbled forward, but it was too late, his loyal friend teetered off the edge. The Orc cried out for both, collapsing against the edge as the sands below conceal the drop.
The sound of the wind blew in across the edge of the cliff, Pullo coughed as he tried to drag himself up, but he collapsed onto his back â only managing to roll himself over to the stars above. His vision grew dark as he stared up into the rising lights beyond, his burnt, ruined hand gripped the edge â as if desperately searching for someone to grab.
But finally, he let out a soft breath and slowly his eyes forced shut.
The wind swept across the dunes of Tanaris, offering little comfort against the scorching wrath of Anâshe in the sky above.
The Thirteenth had been stationed here just short of a week now, Toq estimated. He had allowed the grunts in his unit to think that they had been ordered here by someone far outranking their Stone Guard. It was easier that way.
In truth, Toq had forged reports of rich mines to the South, waiting to be reclaimed by the Horde now that the war had come to an end. All it would take was to send a single unit there to establish a foothold. When the Stone Guard of the Thirteenth volunteered, it was all too easy for the General to sign off on the order.
It had all gone according to plan, he thought at first. Only, it hadnât.
From the moment they arrived in Gadgetzan, attention was on them. By design or sheer misfortune, the Alliance had been there, and had recognized the Thirteenth. From that moment, it had been a fight for survival.
He had sent the grunts ahead to establish a foothold in the Western reaches of Tanaris, bordering both the jungles of Unâgoro and the land of Uldum. With his unit occupied, he could reach out to his scouts in the region and get intel on the location of Earthshatter.
Nothing had gone according to plan.
His unit was attacked the moment they left Gadgetzan, costing them much of their most valuable resource in this region: Water.
His contacts had seemingly vanished into thin air. Either dead or scared off by whatever dark entity that was quite obviously determined to ruin all of his plans.
With no news, he was forced to return to his unit the next day. From there, the attacks were almost constant. Time and time again, gnomes, elves and all manner of beasts had prayed on them, forcing them to retreat further East, into the center of the wasteland.
If not for almost suspiciously convenient arrival of the Highblood Myrmidons, he would likely had been forced to withdraw from the region all together. Perhaps their Emissary was still keeping an eye on him.
Despite all of his misfortune, Toq had not given up hope of finding his old friend. Of setting things right. Through every struggle, his hope had remained.
Until now.
The carved wooden necklace depicting a sun weighed heavily around his neck, in spite of the light material. He felt a sense of hopelessness deep down.He couldnât take his eyes off of the mountains to the West, and beyond, Uldum.
His gut told him to order the Thirteenth to pack up the camp and prepare to travel there. To ignore their objective of securing the region and instead go look for his former raider. His former brother.
Unlikely a duo as they had been, Bearan and Toq had stood side by side through the Fourth War. They spilled blood and ale together and there were very few people in this world heâd rather die alongside.
Normally, the Stone Guard would follow his gut without hesitation, but his heart told him otherwise. For whatever cursed reason, he could not bring himself to give the order. Deep down he knew that he was too late. He always was, when trying to save those that meant the most to him. With each loss, he grew a little colder. With their mission almost complete there was little left for them here.
With a soft sigh he glanced back to his unit.
It was time to start heading home.
And home we are! The Thirteenth has returned to Orgrimmar, ready to stop any trouble-making in the city.
If youâre interested in joining, now is as good a time as any - Weâre always looking for new recruits.