One cold, bitter day in Warsong Hold…
Saurfang: "Lok'tar Ogar, Garrosh Hellscream, you must sign these requisition forms, for the Horde!"
Garrosh: "Forms? A true Warchief does not sign forms!"
Saurfang: "Luckily for us all, you're not the Warchief...yet. Now sign here on the blood-splattered line! (Stupid little poser…)
Garrosh: "Would my father, Grom Hellscream, sign forms? He was a savage Orc, blooded in many battles! He did not sign mere forms, no matter how much blood of virgin Gnomes lay upon it!"
Saurfang: "A: You thought your father was a coward, you stupid little hypocrite. B: We really need this supply of axes to cut down some trees someone else owns, preemptively. C: Your father was an illiterate that usually signed with a scribbling of him and Warchief Thrall frolicking through the meadows. And D: You probably couldn't interpret this in pictographs, moron, so sign here."
Garrosh: "How do I know what I'm signing isn't some proclamation of my guilt in some massive, upcoming conspiracy?"
Garrosh: "Nothing. Sign here on the blood-splattered line, then?"
Saurfang: -whisks away the form- "Now, onto other matters…like how not to be an absolute, pork-eating douche, douche."
Two minutes later…
Orc Herald: "Hey, shut the fel up, you idiots! I have an important announcement to make: 'I, Garrosh Hellscream, do proclaim my enjoyment of kittens, pretty bowties, lace, sugar, spice, Blood Elves of both sexes, and frolicking through Nagrand listening to Hanson and weeping softly to myself about how one day I will suck less than my father, who I really didn't hate, really.' Signed, the Prettiest Little Emo Warchief Wannabee, Garrosh Hellscream!"
Saurfang: "Oh, man, dawg, Thrall, man…" -laughing- "He's such an idiot!"
Thrall: "Too bad I'll do nothing about him!"
-both laugh it up-
Saurfang: "Yeah, so, you rang your boy, Cairne, lately?"
Thrall: "Who's that?"
Meanwhile, in the Undercitycave…
Varimathas: "Unholy willickers, my Lady, what happened to your voice!"
Sylvanas: "You know what, uh, Varimathas, dude; I just, you know, like, going through all this transformation stuff and junk…you know?"
Varimathas: "I have no idea, my Lady, but I'm sure it's quite retarded."
Sylvanas: "Yeahhh, you know, I'm gonna be a ghoul and junk!" -bounces- "I'll look all pretty for Arthas, you know, and stufff?"
Varimathas: "You know whattt? I think you don't pay me enough for this, and junk. I'll betray you."
Sylvanas: -giggles- "Okay, but blame it on Putress and junk, okay?"
Putress: "I get to be an important character, yea! …Who am I, again? Oh well. Fire ze blight cannons! Ahhh, motherland!!"
Back in Northend…
Bolvar: "Whew, we really beat those Scourge up during that awesome cutscene, didn't we?"
Alliance soldiers: "Holy Light!"
Bolvar: "What? Is it those green, putrid balls of fiery doom descending upon us?"
Alliance soldiers: "You have a unique voice now!"
EXPLOSIONS, CATASTROPHE, MELTING FACES, RED DRAGONS!
At the Frozen Throne…
Arthas: "Man, I could really go for a smoothie."
Back in Ogrimmar…somehow…a Mage done it…
Thrall: "So, the Forsaken betrayed us by throwing barrels of plague on our troops at Wrathgate?"
Thrall: "This is after that whole betrayal at the Broken Front thing, too?"
Thrall: "That's totally not my fault."
Thrall: "I'm totally not mentioning your son died in this thing."
Thrall: "So…blame Garrosh?"
Zol'jin: "You can't just blame Garrosh, mon! …Wait, did the author even spell my name right?"
Thrall: "Who's that?"
Saurfang: "Fel if I know. It seems to be trying to communicate."
Vol'jin: "Is it Vol'jin, mon? I feel so unimportant to this story, nowadays."
Thrall: "Oh well. What's our justification for blaming Garrosh?"
Saurfang: "He's a brown orc?"
Thrall: "Racism within a race serving as the punching bag for racism! Brilliant!"
Who'jin: "Whatever my name is, is gonna go sit over there in the corner now, mon…"
Thrall: "So, how do we go about punishing him? Exiled to the Barrens, Ambassador to Goldshire Inn, finally locating Mankrik's wife?"
That Troll Dude: "Now that's just insulting, mon."
Saurfang: "No no, Warchief, I have a better idea."
Thrall: "Let's hear it."
Saurfang: "Are you ready? … Chick flicks."
The entire room gasps in horror.
Thrall: "But where are we going to find chick flicks in Ogrimmar?"
Saurfang: "You know those Blood Elves been sitting over there for the last, oh, forever?"
Thrall: "Oh yeah. Almost forgot about them. …Which one's the chick?"
Saurfang: "I didn't know they had genders."
Lord Lothemar: "Hey, alright, I get to play a role in—"
Back in Ogrimmar….
Thrall: "I love doing that."
Still in Ogrimmar, in need of a scene change…
Garrosh: "You summoned me, Warchief?"
Thrall: -looks over at Saurfang and rolls his eyes. "Obviouslyyy, Garrosh. Unless we found enough Mages to portal your fat !@#$ across the sea."
What'jin: "Warlocks did it!"
Garrosh: "A true Warchief doesn't summon with demonic magic!"
Saurfang: "He's right, Warchief. The Gnomish Launching device still falls a tad short reaching across continents."
Thrall: "We were shortchanged on the specs?"
A Succubus cracks her whip in the background, forcing a Captive Leper Gnome to perform a rimshot.
Thrall: "Ah-hah, I'm awesome."
What'jin: "Gonna go drown, mon. Have fun!"
Garrosh: "A true Warchief does not crack terrible puns! A true Warchief—"
Saurfang: "Aw, shut up, 'tard. You're here to atone for what you maybe did and didn't do at Wrathgate."
Garrosh: "I wasn't even at Wrathgate! They couldn't afford me being in two cutscenes in the same expansion! They'd think I'd be involved in the future story, with all this attention."
Thrall: "In all my wisdom and impeccable foresight, that'll never happen, of course."
Garrosh: "Of course."
Saurfang: "Of course."
Thrall: "Why are we repeating each other ominously?"
Saurfang: "I have no idea, but let's see what's on tap… Uh, you over there, Blood Elf, person…thingy… What's playing for our honored guest?"
Random, non-descript Blood Elf: "Sure, honey! First up is Season 1 of Sex in the City."
Everyone in the room gasps in horror.
Random, non-descript Blood Elf…possibly not %^-*!@#$%^-*: "For our second showing, we have Brokeback Mountain, yeaaa!"
The Kok'ron Elite run out of the room screaming.
Random, non-descript Blood Elf with a now contradictory description: "For our finale—and I love this one soooo much!"
Garrosh, tears streaming down his face: "No! Nooo! You are a terrible, demon-worshipping peoples!"
Blood Elf: "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 1 and 2, yeaaa!" -flails about-
Garrosh descends into mindless gibberish, curled into the fetal position.
Saurfang: "Yes, Warchief?"
Thrall: "You don't get to come to movie night."
Meanwhile, in Shattrath City…
A'dal: "There is a disturbance in the Light."
Khadgar: "…Oh, wait, am I important to this plot—"
A'dal: "It is as if a million Orcish minds scream in unison."
Kael'thalas: "Tempest Keep was but a setback!"
A'dal: "SHUT UP, ELF! I'M RIPPING OFF STAR WARS OVER HERE! … Yes, where was I…?"
Kael'thalas: "I'm telling Illidan!"
A'dal: "OH, MISTER I SIT IN MY OBVIOUS TEMPLE OF ANGST AND ASSESS PEOPLE'S PREPARDNESS? I'M SO SCARED! WHAT'S NEXT? AN ANGRY FEL REAVER?"
Draenai: "Um, pardon us, your Lightness?"
A'dal: "WHAT? WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT FROM ME? LIGHT THIS, LIGHT THAT. SAVEEE ME FROM DEMONS! WAH, WAH, WAH…"
Draenai: "Perhaps another time, then…"
Meanwhile, in Stormwind…
Varian: "Honey, I'm home! Oh…wait..." -sadface-