Commander!

Check out my pimp new ride, bitches. Oh yeah.

And on that note, so long, battlegrounds! And good riddance!

Yeee-ahh!!

Tomorrow: Epic Mount

Oh, man. Talk about being a fuckin' anti-social hermit this weekend. On Friday after work (and this here is a testament to how sad I am), I logged in immediately and started PvP-ing in Arathi Basin from about 7 PM to 4:30 AM. I managed to join the Alliance A Team, led by a Rogue with Grand Marshal aspirations. At 4:30 the leader decided to call a sleep break and we'd start up at 8 AM server (10 AM my time) again.

So I was up and at 'em after only five hours of sleep and back on the computer. The queues were pretty shitty up until about 11:30 or 12:00 PM and then we were full bore. We were pwning Hore pick-up groups in AB all fucking day. Every so often we'd encounter the Horde's A Team and these fights were long, arduous, and had a 50/50 chance of a win for either side. Not very HK-farming efficient but we were blessed with relatively few encounters with them. I went to bed at around 3 AM that night after reaching Exalted with the League of Arathor.

Sunday morning again up at around 11 AM to log in. Checking my honor I saw that I had amassed a whopping 99k honor for Saturday alone. Holy shit! A few matches in and we five-capped a PUG which fulfilled my recently aquired quest for a neat golden battle tabard that showed the world how much fucking time I have on my hands to fill it with shit like this. No matter, the fights continued. I kept PvP-ing until 9 PM when my guild went to BWL. Not being pathetic enough to pull an all-nighter when I had work the next morning, I shut down at midnight.

This morning I logged in quick before work and almost freaked out because the server informed me that my account was disabled. "WTF?!?" But then I remembered that since my bank had been bought out by Wachovia, they had sent me a new bank card with a whole new number and I had forgotten to change my World of Warcraft account information with the new credit card number. So I did that quickly and was relieved to see that I could get in once more. (Internet FTW.)

For the last week I have collected 289,000 honor. This is more than enough to push me through that last 40% to Commander. I'm pretty sure. Which is why I'm not going to take any chances and will try to get an invite into the A Team one last time tonight and milk those nubs for all I can. I will be damned if I find out Tuesday that I am 99.99% into Lieutenant Commander.

This bitch is going all the way. The Black Battle Cat will be mine, goddammit.

A friend* of mine who also has the same goal as me and has been playing on the same team with me told me that if I collect too much honor I will be tempted to keep going. Hell no. I don't care how far into Commander's rank I get. I will not waste any more time grinding honor. My goal was the mount and that is where I will stop.

It becomes a nightmare, in my mind, to have to grind from rank 11 to 14. That's just fucking insane.

*In the middle of typing that sentence I realized that he wasn't a real friend of mine, just a guy in my guild that I have become aquainted with. But I find it odd that my first instinct was to call him a friend.

War Story

So there I was, in Arathi Basin, the lone guardian of the stables while my other teammates were in pitched battle defending our other two nodes from the assaults of the vicious Horde. My freezing trap was at the base of the flag and I was in shadowmeld form. Waiting. Watching.

Suddenly a voice over my headset alerts me, "Druid incoming stables." I look in the direction of the Horde-controlled lumber mill and see a Tauren astride his Kodo making his way towards the bridge into the stables. But, what's this? There is also an Undead warlock accompanying him.

I grimace. The situation looks dire. Druids and warlocks are on their own very formidable opponents for a hunter; together, I have very little chance.

I request assistance and prepare myself to hold these two off for as long as possible until help arrives.

The warlock and druid both dismount and the warlock races towards the flag. My hopes shatter as I see the dreaded word, "Resisted," float over the top of the warlock's head as he walks over my trap.

I curse. There is no option now. The warlock is capturing the flag and I must engage two opponents at once. From within the shadows I notch an ice-threaded arrow and pull back for a devastating aimed shot at the warlock.

The arrow flies and my position is revealed as shadowmeld breaks. Instantaneously the druid sees me as I fire another arrow at the warlock, interrupting the capture. The druid shifts into a feral form and disappears from sight.

I know what's going to happen. I know exactly what's going to happen. My reaction is instant, almost instinctive. I feign death to get out of combat and drop a desperate freezing trap at my feet. Was I fast enough? Was the trap successfully placed?

Yes!!! As I strafe to my right, continuing my assault on the warlock, a gigantic block of ice forms as the druid sets off the trap.

Owned, bitch!! I think as I continue to make short work of the warlock with lucky critical strikes. There is nothing the helpless druid can do but watch from within his glacial prision as his comrade is felled by a hail of ice-threaded arrows.

I can already imagine the screams and curses of frustration from my two opponents. There is wailing. And gnashing of teeth. I smile.

At this point a friendly Rogue rides in and together we destroy the druid.

"Stables clear," I announce into the mic.

Stables clear.