Wednesday, December 2, 2009

He crapped his thong, I'm pretty sure

My husband and I have been dabbling with "the dark side" in recent months. It came from a desire of wanting to see how the other side lives, I guess. Having been Alliance for the whole of our WoW careers, the lure of easier-than-anything transportation coupled with the knowledge that leveling horde side can be like playing a whole new game, we started a handful of alts on another server.

One of the pairs we've started is a Shaman/Druid team. I'm the Shaman, he's the Druid. After ever so slowly trying to make it through what I affectionately refer to as the "shitty levels between 15 and 20," (not to be confused with the "shitty levels between 50-58") we took a break from them for the day, out of rested XP and out of patience (at least on my side) with the crummy dps and the utter laughingstock that Druid "tanking" is at that level.

Faced with a another hour or so of play time before we would have to call it for the night, I asked At what he would like to do. He suggested either our Horde side Death Knights, who are currently slogging their way through Hellfire, or our Alliance side Death Knight and Shaman combo. I am also the Shaman in that combo. Not being much of a fan of playing the Death Knight class, I opted for playing the Shaman.

We're both around level 75 on that pair and running around Grizzly Hills, despite my opinion that it has some of the most painful of any Northrend quests. Of course, a lot of that has been mitigated by having the ability to fly so I'm trying not to whine too much. While out questing, we ended up slaughtering the hell out of some furbolgs (don't get twitchy on me now, Noxy) and in my warped mind (I may have compared LotR to a pug raid once) that ended up translating into something like this:

Random Furlbog: It's a lovely day for a stroll, out here in the snow and the cold mountain air, while I wear nothing other than my handy loincloth/thong. Wait - what's going on just up the hill?

At and Alas: Slaughter! Death grip! Earth shock! Die furlbogs, die! Why is this drop rate so crappy?

Random Furlbog: Oh crap. This again.

At and Alas: *Target the furlbog*

Furlbog vainly attempts to defend himself and the sanctity of his thong. Dies within seconds. Begins the corpse run back from the nearest furlbog graveyard.

Random Furlbog: Stupid Blizz, putting me in this place where I am constantly murdered although I do nothing more than go about my own business. All these stupid elites coming through all the time and tearing through me like I'm no more than a level 25 stuck out in Ashenvale! And then there's my stupid NPC mates. They're all here, they can all see the slaughter whenever it happens. But instead of banding together and giving us a fighting chance, they just pretend they can't see what's happening no more than 10 yards away from them. Unless some level 70 rolls through. Then all of a sudden they're hiding balls under those loincloths! Then all of a sudden you can get a Shaman to throw a heal! Ah, here's my body. No one seems to be around...

At: Death grips the furlbog through a narrow hole in the rickety fence, nearly breaking the furlbog's neck in the process.

Random Furlbog: Aw, shit.