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______________________________ Blacktooth Grin


TurtleWoW edition, version 3.0. December 30th, 2021 

Written and edited by Margar and Faquarl, with contributions by “Big Louie” Louzzik, the Smashblade, and helpful input from numerous others.  Shamelessly pilfered, modified, and abridged by Pogo’pogo to fit the needs of Blacktooth Grin’s incarnation on both official and illicit realms beyond Activision-Blizzard’s domains.

World of Warcraft, The Black Tooth Grin Clan, the clan banner, and various  character and place names are trademarks of Blizzard Entertainment. We  thank them for building us such a compelling environment for our stories.  Special thanks to the Smashblade for breathing new life into this forgotten  Orcish clan, to leading our server in the creation of legends, and to a long line  of his officers, who sometimes held it all together with string and chewing  gum.

No portion of this document may be reproduced or published in digital or  printed format without the written consent of Faquarl, which can be easily  gotten by writing Please send corrections  and comments to Pogopogo#2546 on Discord.

Table of Contents.

Prologue: A Gathering by Torchlight


Chapter One: RP-PvP

Chapter Two: The True History of the Horde

Chapter Three: Return of the Blacktooth Grin

Chapter Four: Character Creation

Chapter Five: Character Development

Chapter Six: Role-playing

Chapter Seven: Clan Groups and Subcultures



Prologue: A Gathering by Torchlight

You hear the distant drums, beating like dying hearts in the gray-green fog of the Black  Morass. Or, what remains of it, stretched out between you and the distant sea, this  bone-strewn swamp of sorrows. The narrow mountain pass, littered with sun-bleached  skeletons, crawls down into that hungry fog. Spiders skitter and scrape their hacksaw  kneecaps in the vine-wrapped Cypress groves, and serpents coil and slither in the muck.  You descend along the road, the lifeless gray of Deadwind Pass behind you, into the  Sorrowmurk.

The fog inches up your leg, thick as a dying breath in Winterspring, and the drums rage on  in the distance. Honor beats and the rattle of axes on shields sound out in that din. Cries  of pain and rage, and frenzied roars of laughter echo through the murk, and bog beasts slog  at the edge of your vision. What madness calls this home?

What madness rejects the strength and safety of Orgrimmar? Your journey here began  with a sickening, jolting voyage over the ocean from Kalimdor, with plague and panic  gripping the crew and cargo, leaving you stranded in the goblin port city of the far south.  Weak with fever, you fought your way north, through the lands of the cannibal trolls,  wading along the river banks, far from the roads and roaming bands of Human and  Kal’dorei, into the claustrophobic nightmare of the Duskwood. Scouts and sentries  harried you at every crossing, until you lost yourself in those blue-gray hills. Then, the  lifeless void of Deadwind Pass, the rock bridges and barren granite cliffs, exposed to the  skies above, and to the gryphon riders of neighboring Darkshire.

What madness wrought this place? Darkshire at your back. To the North, Lakeshire.  To the South, Nethergarde, and the boundless sea to the East. Hemmed in at every turn by  the human armies. Surrounded in this mire, the Orcs you seek must surely be deranged.  Or fanatics. Perhaps both?  

The fog eats into your armor and clothing, fills your nose with the stink of wet bones.  Your saddle and harness begin to creak, and your Frostwolf mount, a gift from Thrall’s  clan in Alterac, grows restless as you urge it along.

The drums grow louder now. The cries and roars more crisp. There! Two sentries,  standing just off the road, weapons drawn. One, a troll, staring at you down the shaft of an  oil-tipped arrow, has ugly runes and scars carved into his face, and burned sigils glow and  smoke along his tusks. A third, running up the path. You try to remain calm.

“Looks real enough to me,” the troll sentry says. “Go on, then. Up the path, and be quick  about it. Grot, take this one to the gates.” The second sentry, a hungry looking orc, nods  and begins running down the path, beckoning you to follow.

Which you do, quietly, down the trail, past a row of mud-slicked holes in the ground, with  ragged blankets and muddy armor in each of them. A bruised and bloodied young orc is  near the end of them, on his knees, his back laced with fresh bleeding welts, clawing a new hole into the mud and roots with his bare hands, face set in iron determination. You begin  to hear a throaty chuckle from your guide. Before you, on either side of the trail, hang the  partially butchered corpses of unidentified beasts. A lone goblin stands smiling, standing  under one of the beasts with a long sharp knife, his hair and face slick with gore. You note  with horror a pile of what look to be Frostwolf saddles nearby, and scrapings of white fur.  The hungry looking orc guide eyes you, then your mount, in turn, but says nothing. He leaves you at the gates, where two battle-scarred sentries hold torches, and turns back into the fog.

As you pass through the gates of the wooden wall, the roars of laughter coming from inside  the small fortified camp grow clear and intense. Before you is a sweating crowd, gathered in torchlight, mostly orcs, trolls and goblins, but also some rough looking forsaken, and Shu’halo--the massive Kalimdorian Minotaur. The crowd, clad in a variety of brutal  looking armors and savage but intricate robes, are standing in a circle around a muddy pit. In the center of the pit, a rail thin goblin has crawled up onto the back of one of the massive tauren, holding onto his horns with both hands, legs wrapped in a vice under the shaggy  monster’s chin, his teeth sunk all the way to the skull at the base of one of the Shu’halo’s bloody ears. The tauren flails, swinging a rusted shovel uselessly over his head as the  goblin rips and begins to tear off the flesh of the ear from the rest of its skull.

Howls of laughter resound throughout the encircling crowd, and many of the orcs and trolls scoop up fistfuls of mud and sand, and the occasional stone which they hurl at the two fighting in the middle. The helpless tauren bellows in rage and starts swinging his head  violently back and forth until the goblin loses grip of its horns and begins swinging around,  jaw still clamped on the bleeding ear. Then, with the horrifying grisly sound of ripping  flesh, the goblin flies, limbs flailing, ear still clamped in its teeth, over the heads of the  crowd and into the base of a tree. It lands in the mud amidst the sound of cracking bones  and spits the ear out into its hand, then holds the prize above its head to the roar and  applause of those gathered.

The tauren, blind with rage, charges through the gathered throng of onlookers and toward  the goblin, horns swinging wildly, the rusted shovel still clamped in his meaty fist.  Onlookers dodge and leap to the ground to avoid being impaled. The goblin gawks at its  rushing bulk, eyes wide, and scampers up the base of the tree, the bleeding ear clamped,  once more, firmly in its mouth. More laughter, as the tauren stands at the base of the  massive cypress, bellowing in rage, hooves scraping uselessly at the bark as it tries and  fails to clamber up the trunk after the little ear-thief.

“You want this back, you shaggy clod, you gots ta pay!!” The goblin dangles the ear out  over a branch, just beyond the reach of the tauren and his rusty shovel. “Gimme the grot  shovel or I’ll chew off the other one when you sleep, and then we’ll have to start looking  for other souvenirs, you useless oaf.”

The tauren stares for a moment at the shovel, then back up the tree at his ruined ear, and his  shoulders sag. He holds up the shovel, and fast as the plague, that goblin swings down and grabs onto the shovel with his feet, simultaneously dropping the ear. The tauren kneels down and picks it out of the mud, a chewed up bloodied mess. The goblin sneers back down the trunk at him. “You’re gonna need surgery, pal. I can sew that thing back on  again, but it’ll cost ya.” The crowd roars again, and some begin to shuffle off into the  

torchlit fog, the excitement ended and money changing hands as people settle their wagers.  Except one, a grisly looking orc with a short gray beard, apparently as old as some of the nearby trees, and just about as ugly, with pitch-black war runes carved into his face above and below his eye sockets, walks over to you through the dispersing crowd, eyeing you with suspicion. He looks down at your white-furred mount, then back at you for a  moment.

“You’re not from here, stranger. What business do you have with the Blacktooth Grin?”


The Blacktooth Grin.

One of the largest and oldest clans in the world. Bloodthirsty war criminals living in  isolation on the fringes of Orcish society. They are loyal to the line of Blackhand the Destroyer, honoring their ancient Orcish traditions. Hardened, disciplined soldiers who forgo the comforts and shelter of the cities in order to carve out an empire with steel and raw will. Savages with missing teeth, conspiring with forbidden and dark powers, sequestered away in what used to be the Black Morass, in the corrosive aura of the Dark Portal, cut off from the moderating influence of Horde society. Fanatical idealists and freedom fighters that simply will not bend their knees to the corrupt and weak-willed leaders of Thrall’s Horde.

The Blacktooth Grin are all of these, and more.

Rumored to be dead or in decline for longer than most guilds have even existed, “The  Grin,” as they call themselves, are neither. As the citizens of Darkshire can attest, the Grin has recovered from near complete destruction in years past, is very real, very dangerous, and is growing in strength. The illusion of their decline is due to their insular nature, and their traditional hatred of Thrall, which has long kept them from the streets of Orgrimmar. In fact, they often use this misperception of their forces as a weapon, frustrating larger forces with their strong organization. A proud and free clan steeped in Orcish tradition, they nearly never ask outsiders for help in their wars. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, the Blacktooth Grin rarely call out to the soldiers of Orgrimmar or fallen Lordaeron for aid, relying instead on iron discipline and strategy to prevail over superior numbers.  

Even among their numerous alliances, they remain an enigmatic if inspirational clan, who lead by military example and not through politics or posturing.

In the darkest days of recent years, driven and harried before a resurgent and vengeful  Stormwind, the Blacktooth Grin, though overwhelmed by the strength of their enemies and beyond the reach of their friends, refused to be broken. Forged in the heat of years of  constant and brutal war, deep in the wild lands of the East, the Grin carve out their teeth and their fates with fire and claw and the ring of steel and the hiss of dark magic. They are  legends, and nightmares, and the embodiment of Orcish liberty.

This book is the official Player’s Guide to one of Warcraft’s largest and oldest RP-PvP guilds. Founded on Venture Co. when the realm was a mere 16 days old, the Grin is  steeped with years of tradition. This can serve as a source of enduring strength and pride,  but may also intimidate new members. Therefore, the purpose of this book is to help new recruits learn about the Clan, navigate the intimidating process of gaining acceptance and full membership, and assist new members with their roleplaying.

While the Grin is most famous for its strong PvP tradition, it is not a mere PvP guild. The fabled iron discipline of its Grunt legions is born from the fusion of roleplaying tradition with player-versus-player combat. This book covers the history and lore of the Clan, the character creation and development process, the application and promotion process, the internal RP factions and military organization of the clan, and more. Everything that a new recruit needs to get a foothold and find a path toward advancement in the Grin can be found herein. The roleplaying resources are illustrative, but not exhaustive, and meant to be used for inspiration, not as a recipe for proper role-play.

So, read on. May you find the encouragement and the inspiration you seek within these  pages.

Chapter One: RP-PvP

It is useless to talk about the Blacktooth Grin without discussing the nature of RP-PvP.  There are thousands of PvP guilds all over the world. Many are experts in the arenas or battlegrounds. Many excel at achieving the conditions of victory set forth by the World of WarcraftTM  game designers. Similarly, there are thousands of RP guilds  steeped in complex and ever-evolving storylines on servers throughout the world.

Many RP guilds excel at PvP. Many PvP guilds also encourage and foster roleplaying  communities in their ranks. Few make commitments to excel at both.

RP-PvP is another game entirely. Imagine riding into Stonard, to turn in a quest, and  seeing three dozen soldiers standing in rows and columns, being drilled by their superior  commander. Each player character rides a black war wolf, and wears an identical tabard.  War cries fill the air and the amassed army rides forth into the swamp. You follow behind  them, and as they make their way to the bridge at Deadwind Pass, they are confronted with another, larger coalition of Alliance soldiers. A battle ensues, and rages for hours as more and more guilds are swept up in the conflict. The bridge and mountain passes are strewn with bones so thick you can barely see the ground.

Now, imagine that this sort of event happened on a nearly daily basis, for weeks or months, and that each battle took place in different areas, representing an ongoing military  campaign, with smaller skirmishes and battles on its fringes and borders. Perhaps with the  renegade Horde clan steadily advancing toward Stormwind, or perhaps being driven back  through the Blasted Lands and through the Dark Portal, with the conflict spilling over into  Draenor itself. Weeks turn into months. Months turn into years. Expansions come and go. Raiding guilds disappear; new ones form. Purple gear, the fruit of long months of  dungeon crawling, is reluctantly sold to vendors or disenchanted. Guilds vanish or  transform. Cities sink into the ocean. But in the wilderness, the war rages on.

Armies amassed at either end of the Than’dol Span. Soldiers riding in rank and column  over the rolling hills of Arathor. Scouting forces stealing aboard the ships from  Theramore, coming in to savage the ports at Menethil Harbor in order to cover the flank  of the main force. This is not your average daily tavern soap opera RP, and it is not your  tread-worn game of capture the flag or point defense in the battlegrounds. It is not the  daily monotony of Ashran. It is not the arena grind. There is no gear to reward those who wear the colors of the Blacktooth Grin. When all is said and done, only legends and glory remain. This is something that can only be witnessed in an RP-PvP community like those that have housed The Grin.

RP-PvP provides a backdrop of epic and ongoing conflict to motivate “world PvP” on a  massive and continuous scale. Role-play helps the leaders of participating guilds  transform a chaotic miasma of overripe egos all bristling to demonstrate their superiority to each other into a unified and disciplined fighting force, who responds to orders, can  execute complex tactical and strategic maneuvers, and launch daring surprise attacks on

opposing forces. Role-play also motivates the players to participate, to embed themselves  fully into a difficult and stressful military culture, in order to experience a type of full  immersion in the game world that can be hard to come by otherwise. Conversely, the  dangers of living in contested territory full time in close proximity to enemy forces inspire a quality of roleplaying and storytelling quite unlike any form of entertainment that has ever existed in the history of the world. Faced with the daily struggles of survival, the challenges of securing shelter and safety, of sharing the glories of victory and the hardships of loss can bring guildmates together and form bonds of  friendship to last a lifetime.

The intensity can carry the interest of the players long after the last raid boss is beaten, after the last piece of arena gear is equipped, after the endless procession of achievements loses its luster. The intensity can also lead to burnout. Hopelessness and despair have ravaged the ranks of these guilds on more than one occasion, and the frenetic pace of training and constant conflict can tire and exhaust even the most dedicated and skillful player. In these times the stories, and lore, and legends built up over months and years of roleplaying can offer sustenance and a source of rejuvenation for players.

The two perfect each other. Story and Conflict both, coequal and fully integrated, and  their fusion leads to something that is greater than the sum of the parts. The stories and  wars become legends and myths.

Names become immortal. World of WarcraftTM offers the illusion of heroism to its  players, but RP-PvP such as that produced by those guilds that dare take up arms against one another offers you a taste of the real thing.

And so, to understand the Blacktooth Grin, you must understand that we are not a  “hardcore PvP guild.” We are not a “heavy RP guild.” We are an exemplar of the true  RP-PvP guilds, and among the greatest in the world.

In order to understand us, to join us, and to find a sense of belonging in our ranks, you must  know the stories of which your story will be a continuation. You must know the history of the Orcs of Draenor, not as it is told by the historians of Orgrimmar, but as it is told by the Sythegars of the Blacktooth Grin. The story of the Grin begins over thirty years ago, on a world called Draenor…

Chapter Two: The True History of the Horde

“Have a seat. Over there, the skins by the fire pit, away from the smoke. Good. You and I have much to discuss, young one. The others have no doubt sent you to me for a lesson in history. Don’t look so surprised, you’re hardly the first. Pass me that water skin.”

The ancient Orc furrows his scar-laced brow. Red in the firelight, he stares at you.

“History is not a recital of dates and names, of battles won and lost, grot. It is a litany of  choices. Decisions made, and consequences suffered. When you look at history, don’t  focus on the events, focus on the choices and motivations that led to those events. Put  yourself into the minds of the actors, and the true history becomes clear. I will tell you  now the history of our people.”

The Destruction of the Orcish Horde

“Twenty-five years ago, Orgrim Doomhammer assumed control of the greatest military  force in the history of the world we now call Azeroth. Back then, Azeroth was only the  name of the Human kingdom nestled between Stranglethorn and the stony reaches of Khaz  Modan. An army unlike any this world has seen in ten thousand years. He would take  this army to the gates of the great throne of Lordaeron, capital of the Alliance of the Seven  Kingdoms. There, on the doorstep of the Human king’s refuge, Doomhammer the Betrayer,  Warchief of the mighty Orcish Horde, the will of whose soldiers burned with the demonic  power of Mannoroth the Flayer, was utterly crushed. His armies broken and cast in  chains, his great armada put to the torch, the mighty Orgrim Doomhammer fled for his  miserable life, and vanished into the hill country north and east of Tirisfal.”

The gray-bearded Orc pulled a mouth full of stale, foul tasting water from the bladder. He  looks at you, letting you absorb the question.

“Why was he defeated, young one? How could it have happened? Why did he flee,  leaving his people to be enslaved in internment camps? To know this, you must know  how Doomhammer came to lead that army in the first place. Six years before his crushing  defeat at the gates of Lordaeron, Orgrim Doomhammer was a captain of the Blackrock  Clan, riding over the rubble pile that was once the great and powerful Stormwind.”

“That’s right. The city you call ‘Stormwind’ now is actually ‘New Stormwind,’ grot. And  don’t you ever forget it. The pride and arrogance of the humans, and the strength of their  propaganda, has robbed you of one of your people’s crowning achievements. Blackhand  the Destroyer, the First Warchief, who built the Horde and led the charge through the Dark  Portal to this strange world, loosed the scourge of war on the human capital of the southern kingdom of Azeroth, and thirty years ago he broke the armies of Stormwind, razed their magnificent capital to the ground, and fed their dead to the crows.”

“On that night, the night of his absolute victory, Blackhand the Destroyer, the founder and

father of the Blackrock Clan, was slain in an act of cold-blooded treachery. Attacked  when his back was turned by none other than Orgrim Doomhammer, a trusted captain in  his raiders, who were called the Sythegore Arm. Blackhand died having brought glory  immortal to his ancestors, and to you. But once again, young one. I put to you the  question.”


“What drove Doomhammer to this act of treachery? Was it courage? What courage need strike the father of his people when his back is turned? Was it honor? What honor does not demand a duel?”

“No, it was none of these. Orgrim acted out of fear, taking an opportunity he had been  waiting for to seize power. It was his hatred and jealousy of Gul’dan, Blackhand’s most  trusted and loyal friend and advisor, which led Orgrim to this evil and dishonorable act.  Let us talk for a moment about Gul’dan.”

Gul’dan, the Breaker of Dreams

“The stories you were told about Gul’dan were likely lies, young one. He wasn’t an  insane, power hungry monster. He wanted to free his people from slavery.”

“Gul’dan was the apprentice of the high shaman, Ner’zhul, the leader of the Orcs on  Draenor. They lived in Nagrand, where the shaman Ner’zhul led the Orcish tribes at the  spirit mountain Oshu’gun. The mountain was holy to the Orcs, for the spirits of our  ancestors congregated there. It was a place of power, and a place of relative peace.”

“But peace has never been kind to the Orcs. While the warrior chieftains and great  hunters proved their prowess in hunting the massive Elek and Clefthoof that roamed the  grasslands and forests, the shamans tended to the veneration of our ancestor spirits. Or so  they thought. It was Gul’dan who first discovered that certain ancestral spirits were  vanishing, and when he brought his concerns to his mentor, the Elder Shaman ignored  them, so as not to spread panic.”

“Determined to find the reason for the disappearances, Gul’dan began to spend more and  more time in the spirit world, deep in trance and communing with the souls of the Orcish  leaders from centuries past.”

“It was then that he met a spirit unlike any other. One of indescribable power and calm,  whom Gul’dan called ‘The Beautiful One.

“It was this spirit, The Beautiful One, who told Gul’dan the truth. The spirit was not one  of his ancestors, but had chosen to appear to Gul’dan in this form out of respect for his  mortal mind, as the Orcish shaman might be terrified and shun his natural form. Oshu’gun  was no mountain, but a crashed vessel from another world, and its pilot was alien to  Draenor, a type of immortal energy being The Beautiful One called the ‘Naaru. This Naaru had come to Draenor centuries earlier, fleeing an ancient war between its kind and  the armies led by The Beautiful One. It had brought with it the strange blue-skinned race  which The Beautiful One explained were its subjects and its loyal servants, and to whom it bestowed its powers.”

“It was using Draenor to raise an army of these alien beings, which it would then lead back into the ancient war. Gul’dan knew of this race, which lived secluded in the high  mountains of the south, and his people had long known the sting of their demonic magic.  Worse still, the nature of the Naaru was such that its very presence on Draenor caused its  alien energies to bleed out into, and eventually to burn the spirit realm near Oshu’gun.  Helplessly attracted to the raw power of this Naaru, the spirits of the Orcish ancestors had  long ago begun to congregate at the crash site.”

“And as the corrupting, alien energies of the Naaru bled into the surrounding landscape, it  burned a hole into the dimension of its origin. A spiritual void slowly grew with its center  at Oshu’gun, devouring the helpless souls of the nearby Orcish ancestors. Generations of  orc spirits were consumed by this vortex, while the Naaru hid its presence from the Orcish  shamans, even going so far as to impersonate the ancestor spirits and encourage the continued burial rites at the foot of its diseased and broken vessel.”

“Under the Naaru, the orc shamans had lived a lie for centuries, in what Gul’dan called ‘the prison of beautiful dreams.’ Gul’dan was horrified. The Beautiful One explained that  the Vortex was natural; its purpose was to cleanse the spirit world of the corrupting  influence of this outsider, but that the Naaru had been feeding it the souls of the orcish  ancestors in its place, slowing and satiating its endless hunger, giving the Naaru time to  build its blue-skinned army. Gul’dan could see that the Naaru was a coward, that it dared  not face its natural enemies in the war of its people. The Beautiful One had found many of  the Orcish spirits on the other side of the Vortex, and had spent years searching for the  world of their origin.”  

“Sadly, their souls could not be saved or returned to Draenor without risking further  damage to the world. The Beautiful One offered to help Gul’dan save his people and his  world, to help him drive off the Naaru and its foul minions by moving the spirits away from Oshu’gun, to a place where they would be safe. A sanctuary.”

“If the spirits were removed, the immortal Naaru would itself be drawn through the Vortex,  closing it forever and saving the orcs. Gul’dan agreed, and the spirit revealed its true  name, ‘Kil’jaeden, teaching the young shaman how to summon him from across the  dimensional veil. In the weeks and months to follow, Kil’jaeden taught Gul’dan how to  summon and bind spirits to objects, and Gul’dan began to make preparations for a mass  evacuation. If his plan failed, he would alarm the Naaru to his intentions and bring its  wrath and the retribution of its servants on his people. No, he would need to take steps to  build and train an elite force to help him execute his plan. The Elder Shaman, Ner’zhul, would not help him, so he would save the orcs himself.”

“Gul’dan assembled a group of the warriors and shamans he most trusted, and taught them

much of what he’d learned from Kil’jaeden. His background as a necrolyte gave him  insights into spiritual magic, and the knowledge from his new ally gave him powers and  insights unlike those any mortal had known before.”

“One night, by the light of the stars, Gul’dan, his trusted necrolytes, and his elite guard  performed a powerful magical rite at the foot of Oshu’gun, which bound all of the souls of  the Orcish ancestors into specially crafted blades to be wielded by these frightening  warriors, whom Gul’dan called his ‘Spirit Blades.’ On that night, the Elder Shaman  Ner’zhul, and every other shaman in the Orcish clans lost their powers and their connection to our ancestors. Gul’dan and his necrolytes had shattered the prison of beautiful dreams that the Naaru had used to enslave the orcs for centuries.”  

“The great sacrifice that Gul’dan made that fateful day provided the opportunity to defeat  the great leviathan in Oshu’gun. The Naaru was defeated, as the Vortex consumed it and  drove it from Draenor. The Naaru’s defeat severed the armies of the Draenei from their  source of war magic. The drums of battle sounded in the southern mountain passes, and  the orcs knew that they must prepare to defend themselves.”

“Terror and panic spread through the orcish clans, and the chieftains called for an  immediate conclave. Emboldened by his success in rescuing the souls of their ancestors,  Gul’dan and his necrolytes unveiled the second part of their plan. In order to defend  themselves against the enraged chieftains and former shamans, and to aid their warriors in  the battles to come, Gul’dan and his shadow council combined the spirit magic and the  knowledge of Kil’jaeden into a new type of magic, summoning and binding powerful  beings from the ranks of Kil’jaeden’s own armies into their service. For the first time,  immortals were bent to mortal will.”

“Kil’jaeden appeared to Gul’dan in his true form, a terrifying being of war and malice, but  Gul’dan was not afraid. Orcs do not fear war nor malice. Kil’jaeden admired Gul’dan for  his courage and cunning, for discovering the forbidden secrets of how to bind the immortal  soldiers of his Burning Legion. But he could not let the clever orc have this power for free. No, there would be a price for this knowledge. If Gul’dan did not convince the orcs to drink the blood of the pit lord Mannoroth, and bind themselves to the will of  Kil’jaeden’s burning legion, his horrific armies would slay them all.”

“With enemies amassing on all sides, the Orcish clans met for their emergency conclave.  There, Gul’dan revealed the truth to them. He told them that he had stolen the power they  would need to survive, and that in survival lay the hope for true and lasting freedom. But  the price of survival was servitude in the short term, until they could find a means to  escape. Gul’dan was confident that he could free them eventually as he had done for our  ancestors.”

“Servitude was not what he wanted for his people, but it bought them time, and a means to turn back the Draenei armies in the south and east.”

“The clan chieftains were abhorred, shocked, some even terrified. The Frostwolf Clan,

led by Durotan and his blind and now toothless shaman Drek’thar, refused to have any part of it. Durotan forbade his warriors from drinking the blood of Mannoroth, and fled with his clan to the mountains of the far north.”

“To hide, like rabbits before the wolves they professed to be. There in the mountains, they  attracted followers among the smaller, weaker orcish clans such as the Whiteclaw, the  Bladewind, and the Redwalker Clans, who chose the path of cowardice rather than uniting under a single Horde, as Gul’dan proposed.”

“One of the warriors of the Blackrock Clan, Orgrim Doomhammer, had befriended  Durotan in his youth and nursed a quiet grudge against Gul’dan for upsetting the old ways. Orgrim was confident that the clan Chieftains would never submit to Gul’dan’s plan, never drink the demonic blood and gave loud voice to this confidence. That confidence was shattered and Orgrim humiliated when Grommash Hellscream, the leader of the Warsong Clan, bravely stepped forward to do what he knew must be done to save the orcs.”

“When commanded to do so by his Chieftain, Blackhand, Orgrim reluctantly drank the blood of  Mannoroth. He never forgave Gul’dan, Blackhand, or Hellscream for making the hard choice to accept a life of servitude in hopes of someday freeing themselves. The chieftains, now united in blood and purpose, elected Blackhand as War Chief, acknowledging him not only as leader of the greatest clan among them, but the wisest in the ways of war. One of Blackhand’s first acts as War Chief was to choose from among his own Clan and the others the finest scouts and riders to act as vanguard for the new Horde. These elite warriors took upon themselves the ritual of removing one of their front teeth to show their loyalty to Clan and Horde.

“The war was over swiftly. The orcs, united and led by Gul’dan and his warrior chieftain  Blackhand, crushed the Draenei invaders and burned their corpses to rid them of the  spiritual fire that had caused the vortex at Oshu’gun. Then they drove the survivors to the  far corners of the world. Treachery followed shortly thereafter, as the Frostwolves,  Bloodmane, Whiteclaw and Redwalker clans began to launch assaults on their orcish  brethren, hoping to catch them weakened from the battle of Shattrath. The Whiteclaw were all but exterminated in these pathetic skirmishes, and the Frostwolves driven ever  deeper into hiding.”

“Then, as the dust settled in the aftermath, with the rage of Mannoroth still fresh in their  veins, the Orcish armies began to tear themselves apart. Reprieve came when Gul’dan was  contacted through the nether by the sorcerer Medivh. Medivh offered an artifact of power  that he might use to free his people in return for their aid in a war.”

“Gul’dan agreed.”

“Gul’dan built the portal, and left his former mentor Ner’zhul behind to guard it with his  Shadowmoon Clan, as a humiliating punishment for his past treachery. Grom Hellscream  and the Warsong Clan were also asked to stay behind, out of caution. Gul’dan knew that  the Warsong would never yield to the authority of Blackhand or himself, and he could not  trust at this critical juncture. Other clans, including the Shattered Hand, the Thunderlord, the  Laughing Skull and the Bonechewer, and many smaller clans such as the Lightning Blade,  were left to guard the homeland and make sure that it wasn’t overrun by what was left of  the fiendish Ogres, with the understanding that they would be called as reserves if the war  proved too difficult.


“As you know, the rest is legend.”

The Second Warchief

“In the first war against the humans, Orgrim learned to fear Gul’dan the way a rat fears the owl. Gul’dan was more clever by far than any other orc alive, and determined to find any power necessary to free the orcs. That power terrified Orgrim, and eventually led him to betray and kill Blackhand, the most gifted tactical mastermind the Orcs ever produced, so as to isolate Gul’dan and bend the first warlock to his will. Orgrim, resentful at having  been pressed into the service of the Legion, pressed Gul’dan into his own service.”

“He did not stop there. Doomhammer slew the first Warlock’s trusted lieutenants, the  former shamans of our people who had been freed by Gul’dan from the beautiful prison of  dreams the Naaru had woven to mislead and enslave our kind for millennia. He slew the  few to whom Gul’dan the Destroyer of Dreams had entrusted the methods of binding the  beings of the Nether, of bending them to mortal will, the small handful who had the power  to lead our people to lasting freedom and to release us from the yoke of Mannoroth.”

“When Gul’dan awoke from his torpor, Doomhammer had him bound and surrounded by  guards. He gave the first warlock an ultimatum. Serve the Traitor, or be slain. Gul’dan did what he knew was right, and bought time--time to pursue the powers promised him, to  free our people--and so he submitted to Doomhammer. With Gul’dan’s knowledge of the  

armies, Orgrim spent the next several years systematically hunting down and killing the  most loyal and able commanders, lieutenants, and soldiers in Blackhand’s Horde. He  caused an outrage when he refused to bring the great Warsong Clan and their heroic leader  Grom Hellscream to the war effort, and instead summoned from exile the traitorous and  weak Frostwolf Clan and their allies in the Bloodmane and Redwalker clans. For years,  Doomhammer maneuvered these traitors into positions of command in the armies. He  even enlisted assassins from among their ranks to hunt down and kill the sons of the slain  Warchief, Rend and Maim Blackhand.”

The scar-faced old shaman placed a slab of dried peat on the fire, whispering to it for a  moment until it erupted in bright flame.

“He failed, of course. In all his life, Orgrim Doomhammer never succeeded at any task he  set his mind to, save that lone act of treachery.”

Rend and Maim Blackhand, gifted in turn with the leadership skills and raw cunning of  their father, withdrew to Stonard in the Black Morass, where they had been tasked to guard the Dark Portal, our only way home to Draenor. In the years following their father’s  death, they lived in exile, abandoned and hunted like dogs for sport, until they were  contacted by Zuluhed the Whacked, leader of the Dragonmaw Clan, who’d spent the years  after Stormwind’s destruction bending the fearsome immortal dragonflights into the  service of the mighty Orcish Horde. Zuluhed had been fiercely loyal to their father, and  he committed himself and his clan to restoring them to a place of honor and power, and in  the following two years, Rend and Maim were able to rally the loyal survivors of

Blackhand’s legions to their own banner, to carve out the fortresses of Rockard and  Stonard, and Kyross, of Render’s Valley and Thorium Point, and Kargath. Under the banner of the Blacktooth Grin, Blackhand’s handpicked soldiers proving even more loyal than his own Blackrock, the Blackhand brothers swore to stand against Doomhammer the Traitor, and to return the Horde to its  rightful rule.”

“Thus did Rend and Maim Blackhand, exiled sons of the slain Warchief, become chieftains of the  Blacktooth Grin Clan.”

Anger sweeps across the shaman’s face, and the firelight dims to a deep and nearly  lightless scarlet. His eye sockets are cast in sudden shadow, as his voice deepens and  hardens.

“But fate would rob them of their vengeance. Orgrim had decapitated the Horde,  throwing its armies and navies into disarray, and in the sixth summer after the first war,  reports began to swirl that in the far north, across the Than’dol Span, the human kingdom  of Stromgarde, seat of the fallen empire of Arathor, was levying its golden armies and  marching to attack the Dragonmaw clan in eastern Khaz Modan, carving the Horde in two. Worse, the Alliance of the seven kingdoms of Lordaeron had roused Magni Bronzebeard, the Mountain King of Khaz Modan, the Thane of Ironforge, Lord of the Dwarven Legions, and already his titan-forged infantry descended the mountain passes, making their way toward the Orcish capital at Blackrock Mountain. There simply was no time to rid the Horde of its traitor. Doomhammer called for a truce with the Blacktooth Grin and asked them to aid him in driving back the dwarven enemy, in saving the Dragonmaw and  Bleeding Hollow clans.”

The shaman sighs.

“Which, of course, we did. We burned the dwarven outposts and drove their legions, inch  by bloody inch, back up the mountain passes, back to the very gates of Ironforge, and we  held them there, while Doomhammer led the other clans north, and Gul’dan led the naval  armada from the west.”

“Try as he might, however, Doomhammer and his Frostwolf commanders could not press  their armies into the lands of Arathor. The forces of Stromgarde held him there, while  Gul’dan and the Navy savaged the coastal cities behind them, burning ports and cutting off the Alliance of Lordaeron from our flanks.”

“Doomhammer once again sent for the Blacktooth Grin. Rend and Maim left a holding  force in Khaz Modan, and moved the bulk of their infantry to the Than’dol Span, where  they relieved Doomhammer’s main force.”

“Then, the fool, instead of using his concentrated might to crush Stromgarde and advance  north, refused to fight side by side with the Orcs whose father he had betrayed and slain in an act of cowardice. Orgrim Doomhammer left the Grin behind to hold the Than’dol Span, abandoned his own supplies, and ordered his armies to swim across the span of waters, where they traveled up the coast, pillaging from undefended farmsteads. He proved his disloyalty to the Orcish Horde by bribing a corrupt and weak human noble from Alterac named Lord Perenolde, to secure passage through the treacherous Alterac Mountains. Doomhammer left half of the Frostwolves, without provisions, led by the ever-timid Durotan, and his gutless, blind shaman Drek’thar, now powerless on an alien world, to guard his flank. Then Doomhammer the Traitor, in an act of insanity only a fool’s mind could comprehend, moved the bulk of his forces deep, deep into enemy territory, to the borderlands of Quel’Thelas, where he pillaged elven outposts for provisions and supplies before swinging back south to the shores north of Lordaeron. There, on the coast of  Northern Tirisfal, he had commanded Gul’dan to meet him with the Twilight’s Hammer  and Stormreaver Clans.”

“Gul’dan watched the beleaguered armies of Doomhammer march out of the forests and  set up their signal pyres, from several hundred yards off the coast. He listened as the  Traitor Chief blew the signal horns, and beat on the drums of war, summoning him and  broadcasting his position to the Lordaeron commanders. Gul’dan reached out with his  mind, and saw the awful trap closing in on the foolish and proud Doomhammer.  Stromgarde had guessed his plan and swung their forces around to Alterac Valley. The  starving Frostwolves had predictably failed to hold the mountain passes, and had retreated,  leaving Orgrim’s forces utterly surrounded. Gul’dan did then what he knew must be done. The Breaker of Dreams commanded his Stormreavers and Twilight’s Hammer forces to leave Doomhammer to his all but certain fate, and to escort him, over the waters, to the tomb of Sargeras. Gul’dan would recover the artifact needed to crush the forces of  Lordaeron, and free the Horde from their servitude to the Legion. It was their only hope of survival.”

“But Gul’dan learned too late that Sargeras himself had been the one to corrupt the mad  sorcerer Medivh, and that the tomb was nothing but a trap. Gul’dan, who spent his life  freeing the Orcs from the prison of dreams woven by the Naaru at Oshu’gun, died trying to save his people from the corruption and slavery of the Burning Legion. His final  commands to his captains were to rush to Orgrim’s aid, and to try to rescue the Orcs from  the wrath of Lordaeron.”

“They did as commanded. But as they landed on the beaches of Tirisfal, Orgrim the  Betrayer, in his blind rage, commanded his archers to slay the entire force and burn their  vessels as they struggled through the crashing tides. A small handful of the vessels  escaped, with skeleton crews led by Cho’gall, and sailed out into oblivion in a desperate  bid to survive the coming tragedy. The following morning, Doomhammer’s ragged  armies, surrounded on every side, cut off from all supplies and means of escape, were  butchered, and the survivors enslaved.”

The ancient orc takes another long draw from the foul-smelling water skin, wiping his  mouth with the back of his cloth-wrapped gauntlets. This part of his tale was a lie, but a pretty one. In reality it was the Blacktooth Grin that slew Gul’dan, following orders out of a moment of fleeting fear and weakness. But the grot did not need to be the wiser.

“So, you see, grot. Once you know how Doomhammer rose to the head of the armies,  once you understand why he led them there, to that place on that night, you realize that the complete destruction of the Horde was the only possible outcome. He destroyed it. The story of Doomhammer does not end there, though it ought to have. No, the head of the snake, you will learn, has venom even when the body has been severed.”

The Fall of Rend and Maim Blackhand

“The vast and mighty Orcish Horde was broken. It was a small matter then, for  Stromgarde and Alterac to return to the south and rout the forces of Rend and Maim at the  Than’dol Span. The Blacktooth Grin staged a fighting withdrawal, all the way back  through Khaz Modan, to the Blackrock Mountain. The enraged humans flooded back into  the southern lands, butchering and isolating the remains of the Blackrock Clan, who  submitted to the will of Rend and Maim. Earning the Chieftainship of their father’s clan, Rend and Maim folded the Blacktooth Grin back into the Clan of its birth, though the toothgaps remained.

“The humans, led by Khadgar, swarmed the swamplands of the Black Morass. They set  Stonard, Rockard, and Kyross to the torch, driving the hardy survivors into the mountains  and hills, and then Khadgar led the human mages in the attempted destruction of the Dark  

Portal, trapping Rend and Maim, and the survivors in Azeroth. But Khadgar could not  comprehend the intricacies of Gul’dan and Medivh’s creation. His careless and  destructive magic caused a the powerful blast which unleashed a wave of destructive  power so vast and untamed that it burned the very land itself, destroying forever the primal beauty of the Black Morass, and instantly killing all of the nearby life, tainting the whole of it with unchecked energies from the Twisting Nether, where it pools and writhes to this day. Khadgar built Nethergarde Keep atop the ruins of Kyross, to guard the rift between worlds that he had failed to close.”

“It was not long after this that the Dark Iron Dwarves rose from their slumber and began to pour out of the labyrinthine citadel at the heart of Blackrock Mountain. Maim was slain in  the defense of his people.”

“At the eleventh hour, Rend Blackhand, betrayed and alone, marooned on an alien world,  secured the survival of his people by kneeling in servitude to the Black Dragonflight.”

The Internment

“In the decade to follow, the broken remains of the orcish Horde lived as slaves in  internment camps. A generation of orcish children were raised in servitude and squalor,  indifferent to and ignorant of their proud heritage. They were forced to mine thorium and  mithril for the greed-addled dwarves and human lords, and they were forced to participate  in humiliating and violent gladiatorial spectacles, often being fed to the wild beasts of this  strange world to the applause of the gathered crowds.”  

“If children in the camps were disobedient, it was a common practice to hang their parents  in front of crow cages over raging fires, and torture or flay the child in front of the caged  parent, then release them both before their wounds became terminal, breaking their will  and fostering obedience through terror. The orcs, even when compelled by the twisted  will of the Burning Legion, had slain the Draenei invaders on Draenor with clean and swift deaths, not slow torture and degradation. These humans were capable of evils the orcs had no words to describe.”

Hellscream and the Warsong Clan

“Still there was hope. As most orcs were captured and placed into camps, survivors of the  Bleeding Hollow Clan led by Kilrogg Deadeye managed to survive in the mountain passes  east of Khaz Modan. Chieftain Deadeye came from a long line of oracles, able to envision  the moment of their demise. He knew where he was needed as his final days were  

drawing near. He devised a plan to bypass the mages at Nethergarde, and to slip back  through the dimensional rift to Draenor. There, Deadeye told an astonished Grom  Hellscream what had become of his people. Ner’zhul, desperate to reclaim his rule over  the orcish clans, reopened the Dark Portal and sent Hellscream and the Warsong Clan  through on raids to recover four magical artifacts (including, distastefully, the Skull of  Gul’dan), and to try to destroy Nethergarde Keep. Grom, sensing the power-hungry madness of  Ner’zhul, did these things, but in the end abandoned Ner’zhul to his insanity, leading his  Clan through the Dark Portal even as Ner’zhul was tearing Draenor apart.”

“Trapped on this world, with the folly of Ner’zhul and the destruction of his home behind  him, Hellscream led the bulk of his Warsong Clan, stirring them into a blood-mad frenzy  and swearing to free the Orcs from the shackles of this strange world.”

“In every Human kingdom, whispers of a ferocious uprising began to stir. The Orcs, it was said, had returned through the dimensional rift and butchered the forces of Nethergarde. Indeed, they had swept up through the east like a plague of locusts, burning and crushing every outpost between Lakeshire and the Than’dol Valley.”

“Somewhere, in the fog of all this disorder, an unknown Orcish gladiatorial slave, who had been raised since birth by the humans and known to them only as “Thrall,” managed to  escape his captors and flee into the wilderness. It was here that Hellscream and Warsong Clan found him. Starving, with no knowledge whatsoever of his heritage, barely even full grown, and speaking not one word of the Orcish tongue, they took him in, and attempted to teach him what it meant to be a free orc.”

The Rise of Thrall

“In the beginning, Thrall showed merit as a fighter, and assisted the Warsong Clan on their raids. Hellscream learned that the Frostwolves had managed to avoid the Internment by fleeing (as they are known to do) into the mountains.”

“He sought them out, and brought Thrall, whom he’d adopted as his ‘little brother,’ to meet the shaman Drek’thar. Drek’thar paid little attention to Thrall in their meeting, so Thrall left to go mingle with the other soldiers by the campfires. There he boasted of his combat prowess and belched noble-sounding words about liberating the camps, which he’d likely picked up from Hellscream. One of the orcs there, who had been sitting quietly away from the others, mocked and ridiculed the idealistic young orc from beneath a cowl.  Thrall grew outraged and demanded that the orc identify himself and submit to an honor


“This orc shocked all in attendance when he pulled back the cowl and revealed himself to  be none other than Orgrim Doomhammer. He’d crept into the camp after tracking the  Warsong Clan through the nearby foothills. Thrall, knowing nothing of this  Doomhammer, demanded an honor duel, and Doomhammer agreed to it. This led to an  historic moment, Thrall defeated the disgraced former Warchief and accomplished his first  and only service to the Orcish Horde.”

“Doomhammer pathetically begged Thrall to kill him, and end his shame, but Thrall,  knowing nothing of Orcish honor, did not.”

“Only after this duel did Drek’thar take notice of young Thrall. He even concocted a story  about how Thrall was the long lost son of Durotan. The legend spread like wildfire among  the foothills, and Orcish survivors began to trickle out of their hiding. Hellscream was  perplexed as Drek’thar took the promising young warrior and turned him into a symbol of  the “New Horde,” parading him around like a long lost hero when it was Hellscream and  the Warsong Clan who fought to free the Orcs.”

“It wasn’t long after that when Doomhammer was killed while fleeing from battle in one of the most notorious mining camps in the Arathi Highlands. To this day that camp is  honored with the name of Hammerfall.”

“The rest of the history is well known. The Warsong Clan freed the orcs from internment  and took them over the ocean to Kalimdor. Thrall claimed credit and set these noble  warriors to the humiliating task of city building, naming Durotar after the coward chieftain of the Frostwolves, and Orgrimmar after the Betrayer who slew the true Warchief. Thrall’s city building woke the sleeping demigod of the night elves, and Grom once again made a sacrifice in order to save his people, drinking the blood of Mannoroth so that he might vanquish the raging forest god Cenarius.”

“Grom Hellscream died with his blade buried to the hilt in Mannoroth’s chest, freeing all  orcs everywhere from the tyranny of the Legion. But it was Thrall, the puppet Warchief  of Drek’thar, who had nothing to do with the fight, paraded around the Pit Lord’s armor in front of his hut in the Valley of Wisdom, as a trophy to his ego. Back in what had been the  

Black Morass, orcs who were loyal to the True Horde still struggled for daily survival.  Meanwhile, in Orgrimmar, Thrall surrounded himself with creature comforts and made  peace with the humans who had tortured and maimed an entire generation of his people.”

Chapter Three: Return of the Blacktooth Grin

“In the end, all we have is stories… The Grin made legends.” – Kasoon

The Blacktooth Grin is a Horde Heavy-RP/PvP guild currently based on Grobbulus. Originally and briefly beginning on Scarlet Crusade, other previous homes of The Grin have been the RP-PvP realm The Venture Co.,’ the private realm of TurtleWoW, with brief forays onto other realms.

They claim and reside in Stonard, in the Swamp of Sorrows, and can be found raiding  various Alliance towns wherever the cry “FEAR THE GRIN!!!” or “THOK MOG  THOK!!!” is heard.

The Grin was formed on ‘The Venture Co.’ when it was just shy of two weeks old, on 22 July, 2006, by Chieftain Gorfrunch Smashblade. They are dedicated to heavy RP and world PvP raids.

The following chapter provides a brief outline of Blacktooth Grin’s current canon. The history of its prior legends can be found in older versions of this guide, as well as chronicled on the guild’s Discord server.

Origins of the Smashblade

Gorfrunch Smashblade, often called “the Smashblade” by her followers, was born into the Blackrock clan. Smashblade was a mere whelp when the war began on Draenor. Like the mighty chieftains Dal’rend and Maim, the now-regag was aged with twisted fel magics by the shamans of the clan, transforming the toddling pup into a proper soldier. Her surname was earned soon after this process when her trainers underestimated the massive whelp’s strength and she crushed every practice axe placed in her grip. A quick student of war, Smashblade was an early recruit for the Blacktooth Grin and went on to fight in the first and second wars under its banner. She managed to avoid capture during the orcs’ internment within the human camps following Doomhammer’s crippling defeat. Though involved in several raids upon these camps, Gorfrunch never witnessed the crushing lethargy that afflicted those imprisoned for herself and made a name for herself as a captain in the Scarshield Legion. It was she who marched forth from the Spire at the head of a revived Blacktooth Grin. A mix of old Grin veterans and new recruits drawn from the best of the Spire’s legions, the Grin once again acted as vanguard for the Blackrock and a force to lead the Horde to victory.

Skull Klub: Orgrimmar Resurgence

Gorfrunch Smashblade had taken it upon herself to insure that the integrity of the orcs did not crumble. Her small band of loyal, seasoned fighters and nascent Sythegore Arm sought to muster further support among the disillusioned outcasts of the New Horde. In the shadow of the Spire, worgs were saddled, teeth were ripped from skulls, and the Blacktooth Grin was reborn anew. Gorfrunch began a half-decade long reign of terror against the Alliance. The new clan sieged settlements wherever they rode, gaining more Sythegar and more Grunts as their achievements reached the ears of Horde dissatisfied with their leaders’ preference for diplomacy over warfare. But minor glory wasn’t enough to satisfy the new clan’s vision.

Recognizing cities as anathema to Orcish culture, sewers of corruption and vice, from which scribes and laws and comfort and royalty and slavery emerge, the Blacktooth Grin turned its attention towards Orgrimmar. As the Chieftain of the resurgent Blacktooth Grin, Gorfrunch Smashblade is vocal in her opposition to Thrall, known for her saying “Warchiefs make war. Peacechiefs make peace. Whichun’s sitting in Orgreemar?”, and has led her clan in open defiance of Thrall, the ‘Peace Chief.’ Within the walls of that very city the Grin has begun its quiet campaign to awaken the sleeping soldiers of the Horde and rally them to their cause. Currently, the clan operates under the veil of ‘Skull Klub,’ a growing radicalist movement left unquashed in the city’s seedy Drag.

Sparkwater Subterfuge

From their den in the Drag regag Gorfrunch’s insurgency spiled out into the public square of the peacechief’s city. The bannerless Blackteeth held several propgandist campaigns, and sought to ‘give the peacechief’s gits what he won’t provide- weapons and armor’ through wardrives in hopes of bolstering the clan’s grot fodder. The campaign was successful but it came at a cost: Kor’kron attention.

[] Grilek fashioned for them a stay within Sparkwater Port, outside the walls of the . As long as coin flowed innkeeps turned a blind eye to the

The Long March


Shadow in the Pines

Valkah, and staunch orcish nationalist would have none of it. Those trolls were up to something traitorous.

In a way, Valkah was right.

Mul Sweet Mul


Thieving the Elf King and the War that Followed

Beyond the Shiny Hole

The Northern Front

Chapter Four: Character Creation

Who is your character, aside from a  race and class combination with a certain level, set of talents, and equipment? Not character (small “c”) in the WoW sense, but Character (big “C”) in the storytelling sense. Who are you? What motivates you? Where did you come from? Where do you want to go? This chapter will provide you all the tools needed to answer these questions and create a compelling character compliant to the current lore of the world.

To start with, you need to know the rough timeline.

 - Gul’dan creates the Orcish Horde, Battle of Shattrath, Frostwolf skirmishes.

- The destruction of Stormwind, death of Blackhand.

- Destruction of the Horde and Dark Portal. Internment era begins.

- Ner’zhul builds new Horde on Draenor, destroys the world and becomes the Lich King.

- Warsong Clan enters Azeroth.

- Thrall escapes slavery, falls in with the Warsong.

- Return of Doomhammer. Thrall learns shamanism. Insurrection and Third War.  Orcs flee to Kalimdor. Scourge destroys Lordaeron, and Silvermoon. Tauren join  the Horde.

- Founding of Durotar. Arthas assumes the Frozen Throne.

- Completion of Orgrimmar.

- World of Warcraft MMO begins. Forsaken join the Horde.

-Venture Co. defectors unionize and form the Steamwheedle Cartel.

-The Revantusk tribe accepts the aid of the Horde and move their main body of forces into Stonetalon mountains, calling their new settlement Amani’alor.

-Zul’jin joins the Revantusk Tribe in Amani’alor.

As you can see, your character could not have been born in Orgrimmar and raised in  Durotar unless he or she were only eleven or twelve years old (without serious warlock  intervention--there is a precedent).

Similarly, if you are playing Forsaken, you’ve been that way for about fourteen years, so if you were in your twenties when you died, you were born about the same time that the Orcs first came to Azeroth. Situating your character’s background in the timeline helps you avoid common back story clichés and gives your character a grounded feel, allowing them a personal perspective of Azeroth’s history.

Character Races

This brief section provides some additional questions and ideas relating to character races  that might help you flesh out your character, and create a more informed, well rounded  back story.


1. If you’re playing a Forsaken, which of the seven kingdoms of Lordaeron did you call  home?  

2. What was your opinion of elves, prior to the orcish wars?  

3. Did you fight in the first or second wars?  

4. How did that affect your opinion of the orcs?  

5. What was your reaction to the internment?  

6. Did you know anyone who fell to the plague, or have to fight off those you loved, only

to succumb to the nightmare yourself?  

7. What are your feelings about being led by the elf Sylvanas?  

8. Did you oppose her decision to ally with the Orcs against the humans?  9. Do the Forsaken have a right to raise the dead and spread the plague?


1. What clan were you born into? Orcish clans are very malleable, rising and falling as circumstances demand and individuals decide. There are and have been many clans smaller than these.

2. Upon reaching maturity, many Orcs wander to choose a new Clan, or if strong enough, band together with comrades to form one themselves. What Clan did you choose to join?

3. Orcish surnames are earned, not gained at birth. Have you earned a name through great deeds, a clear mission, or the bullying of others? Do you not have a surname yet?

4. How old are you? Veterans of the Draenic war are generally sixty or older unless fel-aged, and Orcs born in Durotar are ten or younger. Did you drink the blood, or turn green through proximity to other orcs? Brown orcs are uncommon and avoided the taint only through isolation or exile.

5. What did you do during the second and third wars? Were you aware of politics, just a soldier, or a noncombatant in some other role?

6. Did you, your family, and friends, become interned after the second war? What were your experiences? Or, did you live as a hermit, or live with the free Frostwolf, Blackrock, Warsong, Dragonmaw, or Bleeding Hollow clans?

7. Traditional Orcish religions included shamanism, a communing with the elemental spirits, and necrolytism, a communing with the spirits of the dead. Gul’dan’s breaking of the elements and creation of the Horde sidelined shamanism until Thrall’s rise to power, and almost all necrolytes were sacrificed by Gul’dan in the creation of the Death Knights. Fel magics are now frowned upon by the New Horde. Orcs have traditionally been a spiritual people, but many have lost their connections with the past. What are your religious beliefs?

8. Did you approve of Thrall’s peace with the humans, or see it as a betrayal of those who  suffered in the camps?  


1. The Shu’halo of Kalimdor have only lived in their plateau stronghold of Thunder Bluff  for the better part of a single decade. Traditionally, tribes lived nomadic lifestyles on the vast and untamed plains of the far west. Into which of these tribes were you born?  

2. Do you remember life before Thunder Bluff?

3. Did you accept Cairne Bloodhoof’s call to build the city on the hill and to settle into it  like the humans do, or did you reject that life?  

4. How did you feel about the Forsaken taking over the caverns on the spirit rise?

5. Do you feel the Shu’halo continue to owe orcs a debt for ending the nomadic lifestyle  of the tauren?

6. How does your tauren feel about the philosophies and tactics of the Grimtotem tribe? Is Magatha a beacon of reason or a treacherous crone?

7. How does your tauren feel about the incursion of the dwarves in the southern barrens and the fate of the Stonespire Tribe?

8. Much of the conflicts fought between the Alliance kingdoms and the Horde take place beyond the Maelstrom and within the Eastern Kingdoms. Why should your tauren have any vested interest in such far off war?

9. How does your tauren regard the blighting of Desolace? Can the centaur ever be reasoned with?

10. How does your tauren feel about the camaraderie the Runetotem tribe and their druids have formed with the Kaldorei?


1. The Darkspear Tribe is only one of the many troll populations on Kalimdor, and  ironically the smallest and least important faction among the race. The Amani trolls once controlled the entirety of Eastern Kingdoms north of Thandol span and fought wars with the humans of Arathor, the Wildhammer, and the elves of Quel’Thelas. The Farraki trolls of the far south carved an empire out of the mountain deserts of Tanaris. The hulking Drakkari live in isolation, their advanced architectural kingdom secluded to the far north, with a few distant tribes driven into caves and barbarism by neighboring dwarves. The Gurubashi of Stranglethorn grapple with the political influence of the Hakkari blood cult, eating away at the roots of their proud but strict culture. The scholarly and holy Zandalari maintain their own seclusion from the rest of Azeroth, sending speakers and trained priests of the loa to restore balance among the other kingdoms when needed. Indeed, troll culture is probably the most diverse and the most varied among all the races of the Horde, with incredible variety and opportunity for development. Which of these many troll empires did your character come from?

2.  How old is your character? Trolls mature around 17 and live until about 80. However, many die young despite their impressive regenerative ability due to pure brashness.

3.Each subgroup of trolls has specific major Loa that they favor and are favored by. Others, like the Farraki, are disfavored by specific loa. The symbiotic relationship between these gods and the trolls is important for both. The more favor, observation, and sacrifice done for a loa, the easier it is for them to manifest their power on the physical plane. For the trolls, their masterful grasp on all schools of magic and the magic inbetween comes from the boons granted by these powerful spirits. Generally the ties a troll has with a god is very personal and regional. What Loa do you observe, if any? Is your loa an accepted part of your tribe’s pantheon?

4. How do you feel about Hakkar’s blood cult? Do you accept the practice of blood magic, ritual sacrifice of other trolls, and slaying loa for power? 

5. Do you practice cannibalism? If so, why? Is this practice accepted among your tribe?

6. Troll tribes are not just composed of headhunters and witchdoctors, and many trolls choose to leave their home and venture far for better opportunity. Were you a seafaring pirate such as a Bloodsail Buccaneer? A simple fisherman or hunter? A trained and scholarly priest back from residence in Zandalar?

7. What is your opinion of the orcs? Did you fight alongside them in the wars?

8. Are you a ‘fon’ or exile? Why? 

9. How does your troll feel about the other empires? The other tribes within their own?

10. How does your troll feel about the Alliance? Did they fight the humans, high elves, or dwarves? 

11. Does your troll fear fire or the arcane?


1. Goblins have had a long history with the Orcish Horde and following the Second War  have gained a renowned history of neutrality. Most Goblins are employed by a larger  Cartel. Which Cartel are you employed by?

2. Did you serve in the Second War?

3. Does money buy your loyalty or are you swayed by righteous causes?

4. What is your ambition? Do you want to become a trade prince yourself? 

5. How does your character feel about the zandalari trolls, knowing they enslaved your people?

6. Do you support the Durotar Labor Union?

7. What is your opinion on gnomish contributions to the field of engineering? 8. Are you running from a business deal gone sour or a breach of contract? 

9. Are you mechanically minded or more business savvy?

10. Do you support the alchemical bio-engineering and the broader implications of alchemy creating new creations? 


1. Thanks to the opportunities afforded to us by the TurtleWoW Development team, it is possible to convincingly roleplay as several different factionless and uncommon races seen around azeroth. These races are available to us through the use of Illusions. Current illusion granted races include: Furbolg, Ogre (one and two-headed), Gnoll, Worgen, Pandaren, Succubi, Dryad, and various kinds of undead. Consider carefully how a member of one of these races would come to find themselves in contact with the Horde and among Blackhand’s gits.

Mary Sue: A Precautionary Note

One of the common practices of RP neophytes is the creation of a “Mary Sue” character.  A Mary Sue (sometimes just Sue), in fan fiction, is a fictional character with overly  idealized and hackneyed mannerisms, lacking noteworthy flaws, and primarily functioning  as a wish-fulfillment fantasy for the player that is unrealistic in the context of the medium.  Perhaps the single underlying feature of all characters described as "Mary Sues" is that they  are too ostentatious for the audience's taste, or that their creator seems to favor the  character too highly. In RP, the player may seem to push how exceptional and wonderful  the "Mary Sue" character is on his or her audience, sometimes leading the audience to  dislike or even resent the character (or, more commonly the player) fairly quickly.

Mary Sue characters are often closely related to or involved with a powerful and famous  figure in the world. For example, “Thrall’s former lover”, or “Uther Lightbringer’s  bastard son, killed by the Scourge and risen as a Death Knight”, or “Orgrim  Doomhammer’s personal assassin”, or “Jaina Proudmoore’s Twin Sister” or “Grom  Hellscream’s mentor” are all impossibly well connected characters, and if they existed,  Blizzard would have told us by now. Conversely, if your character was the nameless Peon  tasked with hauling out Orgrim Doomhammer’s chamber pot and feeding soup bones to his  worg during the second war, that’s different. The task was mundane, impersonal,  inglorious, and Orgrim probably never knew your name. Just the same, powerful and  famous people are surrounded by no-names in real everyday life. These are the people  who bake the bread, shovel the shit, and make the world go ‘round.

And who’s to say they don’t grow up to be heroes?

Mary Sue characters are also all too often the product of some impossibly remarkable  circumstance. Was your character an immensely powerful high elf wizard who designed  the fortress at Nethergarde, but years later betrayed his good friend King Terenas of  Lordaeron and was summarily executed and risen as a zombie slave by a retroactive  warlock, who was then improbably slain by the Scourge, after which your character

regained his or her own free will only to cleverly blend in with the Forsaken?

No. Forsaken were human citizens of the seven kingdoms of Lordaeron. There’s nothing wrong with having been a human before the Scourge came. Maybe you were a cobbler. Nothing wrong with that. Now you stab people and eat their corpses, because that’s what the Forsaken have been reduced to. Making your character come from  Quel’thelas doesn’t make them interesting in the same way that their choices throughout their life will. You don’t need to play an elven forsaken. Or a half elven forsaken. Or a Tauren Farstrider. Or an Orcish witch doctor. The lore is already rich and compelling  and interesting enough to build memorable characters with, and these “quirks” are not colorful additions to your character. They’re hackneyed and trite role-playing tropes that we have seen, literally, hundreds of times before, and you don’t need them to make your character interesting.

No, your warlock was not infected with a demon when he was a baby, and raised on the  elemental plane of torment. Yes, your Forsaken character feels pain when something  cracks its skull open. No, your shaman is not ten thousand years old. Yes, your character  gets scared. Often. War is hell, man.

No, your level 15 mage is not an ancient and powerful demigod and heir apparent of the  royal families of Quel’thelas. You’re not Merlin, or Strider, or Drizzt, or Gandalf. Or  even humble Bilbo. You might be the impatient and castoff apprentice of a fusty and  gluttonous mage hermit, though. Or the scion of a disgraced family whose names have  been removed from the royal records because several hundred years ago they turned to  exclusive inbreeding. Or something equally distasteful. By pushing your character out  of the lore spotlight, and well into the margins of society, you bring yourself down into the  gritty reality of fame--everyone seems to want it, it’s maddeningly easy to come close to it,  to see it just within your grasp, but to actually possess it is nearly impossible. When in  doubt, apply this one rule: if you were famous already, Blizzard would have told us. If  they didn’t, then you aren’t.

Mary Sue characters will not be tolerated in the Blacktooth Grin. You might make it  through your inductions into Grothood, but what comes after won’t be good for you or  anyone else. The life of the grot is anathema to the existence of the Mary Sue character,  and Grothood is in many ways designed to break and discourage players of Mary Sues.  The best possible solution if you think you might be playing one is to completely start over  your story, or dial back the epicosity from 11 to 2 (that is, substantially), learn about the lore of the world, figure out how your character really would fit into it, and get serious about your limitations. Heroism isn’t a product of background, but of choices.

Ironically, most of the greatest heroes we’ve ever produced were humble and ordinary  grots that rose to full membership because they reliably followed orders and held the line  under duress, not extraordinary would-be celebrities clutching desperately at the hollow  bones of fame.

Chapter Five: Role-playing

The first and most important thing to remember about role-playing is this: Roleplaying cannot be consumed, except by those who produce it.

You must take an active role in participating in the telling of stories in order to role-play.  Do not expect that you may sit back and wait to be fed stories by us. Your guildmates are  not charged with entertaining you in this manner. You cannot buy role-playing off of a  shelf, unwrap it, and consume it. It requires active participation.

Role-playing cannot be taught so much as remembered. Storytelling is the oldest art that  human beings possess. It predates written language, likely by tens or even hundreds of  thousands of years. It is absolutely intrinsic to the human condition. It is not new, or  mysterious, but second nature. It is intimately tied into our social needs, even (and  perhaps more so) in the Internet era. All children do it to some extent. Role-playing is  just one type of storytelling.

This chapter covers the rules and expectations that the Blacktooth Grin uphold regarding  RP, and briefly touches on some techniques and suggestions for improving your  role-playing.

The Official Rules

1. All Grin are required to remain in character at all times in /o, /y, /e, and /s.

2. When whispering other role-players, be courteous and attempt to do it in character  (IC). If you cannot, bracket your text (( like this )) to indicate out of character text  (OOC), unless both parties agree that the private conversation is OOC.

3. All OOC conversations in the guild are held in the guild (/g) channel.

4. All Grin are strongly encouraged to remain flagged while in the world.  

5. All Grin are expected to acquire a Guild Tabard and wear it during all guild events. Hierarchy of RP Sins

The following RP faux pas, listed in order of worst to least, will rouse the animosity of your guildmates, and other role-players. Do not do these things. You will be disciplined, and  potentially asked to leave the guild if they become a problem.

1. Unwelcome or public ERP: Erotic Role-play, or “ERP”, is not in itself a crime.  However, when ERP is not consensual, it is sexual harassment. If you are asked to  stop it, you are required to do so immediately, and expected to harbor no grudge

over the issue. Public ERP, even if consensual, is distasteful, and potentially  violates the terms of service for the game. Unwanted and repeated harassment of  guildmates will be dealt with harshly.

2. God mode, or “godmoding”: Never, ever attempt to role-play another person’s  character unless you have a game mechanic to back it up. If you want to control  every character in a story, go write a book and get it out of your system. You have  absolutely no authority over the motivations, internal thoughts, reactions, origins,  or destiny of any character but your own.

Examples include:

a. “I remove my hood and you stare at my perfect elven features in awe and wonder.” No, none of us care about your elven face. My Orc is only  attracted to a female’s tusks and the length of her topknot. Don’t tell me  how I feel unless you hit me with a magical effect or drugged me.

b. “Rentwag deserted the clan, so we hunted him down and fed his corpse to our mounts, binding his soul to a fragment of the Dark Portal.” No, he  joined the Thunderhoof Clan, and is alive and well. You have no authority  to dictate the story of another person’s character.

3. Omniscient or Verbose Narrator: Your RP is constant. Every single emotional state is broadcast in /e. You subject everyone around you to an unfiltered stream of your character’s inner mental state. Everyday actions, such the use of your spells, the preparation of food, mounting and dismounting from your horse, are  described with paragraph after soul-numbing paragraph of endless walls of text.  This reduces the signal to noise ratio for everyone around you to infinitesimally  small levels, and is not appreciated. Try to develop a gift for understatement and  brevity, and never broadcast your inner mental state to the world, as through an  omniscient narrator. Emotions are worn on the face and in one’s stance, in  gestures. Let us infer your mental state from simple gestures and brief facial  expressions.

4. Unwelcome Combat RP: Members of Orcish societies don’t jump out of the  shadows and start burying daggers in one another’s backs out of boredom. If you  want to have an RP fight, arrange it beforehand through a duel or a /roll game in /p  that is broadcast to /o consensually. Unprovoked lethal aggression in /o can have  severe RP repercussions (see: Clan Discipline and Punishment)

5. ((Outofcharacteritis)): Wrapping every sentence in /o, /s, or /y in (( out of character  brackets )) is not role-playing. It is not a substitute for role-playing. Bracketing is  tolerated, but not welcome, because it is distracting, and should be used very, very  sparingly. If you want to have a long OOC conversation with someone, do it in  

party chat, or open up a new chat channel with them. Constantly talking publicly  out of character breaks immersion for other role-players.

On Grothood

Your first role in the Blacktooth Grin will be as a grot. Grots are often described  in-character as “worms” or “worg food”, but they play an important role in the guild  ecosystem. The purpose of Grothood is twofold. First, with respect to new members,  Grothood provides a role in the guild culture whose primary responsibilities are to listen,  learn, follow orders, and strive to develop and perfect themselves. Grots are not full  members of the guild, with all of the rights and obligations that full membership confers.  Grothood for new members is a trial period, wherein the members and officers get to know a person and decide if they want to bring this new person into the guild.

Grot culture has grown over the years into a vital and even enjoyable part of guild RP.  Grots, for example, are forbidden from entering the buildings in Stonard, and are forced to  sleep outdoors in “grot holes,” which double as makeshift graves in case the grot dies  during combat. Grots are required to dig their grot-holes with their bare hands, except for  one grot, who possesses the infamous and coveted “Grot Shovel.” The Grot Shovel is a  status symbol among the grots of the clan, and can only be won through trial by combat.  Rumors are there was once a particularly well known member of their ranks who became  the “King of the Grots” for a time, speaking on their behalf to the rest of the clan, and the  Grot Shovel was his scepter. Formally, the elders of the clan do not distinguish between  the grots, but among themselves, grots have a rich and humorous internal culture.

Grots are also treated with special cruelty by some of the Grunts of the clan. A grot who  misbehaves during combat might find himself running patrols without armor, or lashed for  his or her insolence with a flame-enchanted dark iron chain whip. Grots undergo a ritual  upon earning their true mount, wherein they carve up their former mount and offer it as a feast to the rest of the clan.

This ritual is one of prestige for grots, and usually comes very near their graduation into the full-blooded ranks of the clan.

Not all players of grots are new to the guild, though. Grothood also offers a chance for  existing members to bring under geared, or lowbie alts into the guild, allowing them to  focus on leveling and gearing a character for endgame content. With respect to RP, there  is no difference between a new grot player and an alt grot. Both are expected to follow  orders, use common sense, and advance toward the endgame.

Some rare exceptions to this general rule include banking alts, or low level crafters.

Regardless of whether your grot is new to the Grin or is an alt, you are expected at all times to behave as a Grunt. Disciplined, attentive, skillful in combat, respectful of others both inside and outside of the guild, respectful of role-players (within reason), in attendance for our world PvP raids and other events, and always displaying a willingness and enthusiasm to improve and to help your guildmates.

In order to graduate from Grothood and become a full member of the Blacktooth Grin clan, you must demonstrate the following things to the officers:

1. Frequent RP-PvP raid participation, demonstrating discipline and sound judgment  in raids and other PvP events.

2. Willingness to role-play and to learn the lore and history of the game setting,  particularly with respect to the contents of this player’s guide.

3. Show “positive character”.  


b. Admit and correct your mistakes.  

c. Demonstrate respect and consideration for others.  

d. Honor your commitments.  

e. Be honest and sincere with your guildmates.  

f. Display good sportsmanship to our opponents.  

g. Defend those who are weaker than you.  

h. Show initiative, leadership, and willingness to accept responsibility.  i. Pursue excellence.  

j. Educate yourself about the game mechanics, terrain, lore, and other things  that will help the guild achieve victory.

k. Be decisive in combat.  

l. Foster the advancement of your peers.

4. Do not be a source of drama and conflict. Do not burden the officers with constant  whispers about various issues--they don’t need extra drama, and also want to just  enjoy the game from time to time. Try not to be too “needy”, “greedy” or “leety”.

We’re less interested in “forcing” or “training” players to learn how to act like Grunts.  We’re more interested in finding players who are already like us. Grots who consistently  fail to meet the above qualifications for full membership will be removed from the guild.  Grots who act like Grunts will be hit in the face with a hammer and welcomed as full  members of the Blacktooth Grin Clan.

Chapter Six: Clan Groups and Subcultures

The Blacktooth Grin is a very large and very old clan. It has its traditions, some of which  are as old as The Venture Co. itself. But, because it is so large it naturally has internal  organs; groups of characters with similar interests who vie for power and honor within its  ranks.


Before being formally accepted into the Blacktooth Grin Clan, inductees must serve as  grots, which roughly translated, means “worg food”. Grothood is a blast furnace that  either burns off imperfections or breaks the inductee entirely. It is during this period that a  grot is expected to learn discipline and what it means to be Grin. Every member of the  Blacktooth Grin served first as a grot, excluding a few enigmatic figures.

Over the years the ranks of grots have waxed and waned, and their ranks have developed a surprisingly rich internal culture. These range from well-known traditions such as the  endless war over who controls the mighty Grot Shovel, to whispered rumors such as the  one-time existence of a King of the Grots who defended them and spoke on their behalf  to the rest of the Clan. Grots have been sent to fight in Stormwind unarmed and without  armor, as well as used as distractions for Alliance forces. These indignities are done in  order to ensure that a grot is loyal and gain respect from clan members who have given  their tooth to the Grin.

Ultimately, all Grothood ends. Either they desert, scattering to the winds, or they get hit  so hard in the face with a hammer that they become Grunts.


The Blacktooth Grin’s reavers are among the most notorious fixtures of the clan and the source of much contention among Horde and Alliance alike. These bloodthirsty killers set upon the clan’s targeted settlements before the main force arrives, pulling civilians from their beds and forever closing watchful eyes before alarm can be raised. Reavers are not honorable soldiers. There is no glorious combat in their butchery. They are unapologetic murderers that have fallen headfirst into a kind of madness that only seems to grow the more gore stains their hands. The role of ‘reaver’ is two-fold: It provides a necessary service to the clan that even the most veteran of normal soldiers find distasteful, and it provides an outlet for those bloodcrazed to quench their thirst. The reavers are peculiar in their traditions. Those inducted into their ranks undergo initiation rites so secret that they are not known by even the regag herself. Reavers are identified by the tattered red cloaks they bear. These cloaks only grow darker with experience. While Blacktooth Grin’s reavers are indeed the source of many of the bad rumors surrounding the warband, garnering names such as ‘baby eaters’ and ‘civvie killers’, soldiers that witness reaving in action often can’t help but be afflicted by that same growing urge to join in the carnage.

The Blackguard

There is a saying drilled into the grots at Blacktooth’s bootcamp: Be one who lives for battle. None embody this more than the Blackguard. They are the most iron blooded, loyal, disciplined grunts who have truly given every scrap of their body and life to Blackhand’s vision. The Blackguard are those elite grunts chosen to serve directly as guard to the council and regag. When the Sythegar appear before them they shout B’rega! ‘Command me!’. On the battlefield, they are the formidable core of Grin’s grunt forces, often being first to battle and last to leave, securing victory through unshakable resolve and tactical prowess. Blackguard are distinguished from regular grunts by the dagger granted to them during public ceremony. Blackguard carry this blade on them at all times- prepared to use it to defend the clan to their last breath or to take their own life if failure dishonors them.

The Daz’tulak

Among the ranks of the Dark Horde lurk remnants of Zul’aman’s formidable collection of forest troll tribes. These ‘Spire trolls’ are led by Rend Blackhand’s lead tactician, Warmaster Voone. Time with the Blackrock legions has had their effect on the culture of these strange fire loving, self branding, worg eaters. But their loyalties should not be mistaken. Greatfather Blackhand is not the father of forest trolls.

The Daz’tulak or ‘fire singers’ seek to use the power of the Blackrock and the secrets of the Spire to exact the most glorious vengeance and to catch the attention of the great warlord Zul’jin. By delving into forbidden and feared powers beyond the gall of even the bravest Amani’shi berserkers they plan to scorch the Alor’watha free of all those enemies who have plagued their lands since time immemorial.

It just so happens that those enemies are also the enemies of the Blacktooth Grin.

Rumored Others

There are rumors of other shadowy cabals lurking between the rank and file of clan lines. Whispers among the barracks bunks speak of daggers flashing in the night, controlled at the regag’s whim. Others, of cloaked figures venturing forth into the undergrowth when the moon is but a swollen bone.  

Military Structure and Clan Ranks

● Grot - Weak, untrained, or young, these are the meat shields of the clan.

● Grunt - Battle hardened soldiers, the iron spine of the Grin’s military. These are the soldiers who’ve been asked to give a tooth to the Regag, as a gesture of  loyalty. Grunts are the most integral part of the Grin army and as such are held to a high standard of discipline, skill, and conduct.

Blooded Grunt - Officer alt rank, trusted lieutenants of the Sythegars who have the  authority to enforce the Clan’s laws.

 Raider - The most ferocious and cunning of all the Grunts, Raiders are chosen every  month in a ritual trial called “Jak’thra”, and losers are sent back to the ranks of  Grunts.

● Sythegar - Officers and leaders of the Clan

● Chieftain - Gorfrunch Smashblade, who rebuilt the Grin from Rend’s folly.

Final Words

The tools offered in this guide are not meant to be conclusive, but illustrative of the internal culture and long history of the Blacktooth Grin clan on TurtleWoW. You will almost certainly wish to expand upon the themes covered in these pages, and are  encouraged to do so. Future editions of this text will hopefully include corrections,  elaborations, and feedback from members new and old, as they help us continue to shape  and forge the lore of our clan.