Motlcilk Attention *or* How I fear future raids with guys like this

Thanks to everyone who congo-rats'd my face off for Loremaster! I wanna date each and every single one of you. Really. I do. I'll get you a touch bit drinkedy and we can hold each other up at night. Mmm, Chambord. Right. On to the post.

Lemme preface this with a screenshot.



Having a Mechano-hog gets a reasonable amount of attention, particularly from low level players. I took that screenshot in Durotar, heading out to northeast Barrens for Loremastering (that sounds dirty) and Oxsam just randomly invites me as I drove by.

This isn't the first time.

I'm out in Tanaris, doing that Loremastering thing (I really like this new verb), disenchanting things, and, just as I get on my bike, I get invited to group. I've never been the kind of guy to deny an invite because I'm just some douche with better things to do; I like to give people the benefit of the doubt and see if they have something worth while to offer or if they ask for something reasonably easy. It's always nice to help, educate, or just hear out someone when the time calls for it. I also have a blog.



At the time, Hellbentaxis was level 52. I take a look around the area with a /who to the zone. Four other 80's, all in Gadgetzan. Why me? Eh. Let's see what you want.



I follow him, thinking, Probably just some asshole level 60 or something. This will be easy. He points to Bera Stonehammer.



Really? You don't know what “ganked” means? You poor, poor thing. I just want to rub your tummy and feed you cookies.

I continue:



Don't get me wrong, being a dick to you Alliance out there is fairly high on my WoW To Do list. Loremaster was above that, though. Though now that I am the Loremaster, expect a few post about my vacation in Goldshire soon. Kek. Where'd all this blood on the floor come from? This Inn is so nice! Look at the books and beds. Lawl. They think they're civilized. Silly monkeybots.

I can feel the pally looking me up and down, and not in the hot and sexy way.



The part where he goes “weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” is when he gets into my sidecar, if you couldn't tell. I drive out to the race track up north. He smalltalks.



Attempt 1: Was okay. You've almost got it. There's an “I” in there, somwhere.



Attempt 2: Better. You put the “I” in there this time. And really? “Like where?” I just want to hold your hand and show you Mickey Mouse. Take your picture next to him. You adorable little idiot.



I'm gonna buy you some formula and tuck you in, you sweet little baby.



I put him on my Friend's List. Charity cases hurt my heart. Expect an infomercial for “Newb Reach Out: a Charity.” For copper a day, you can sponsor this poor paladin. See as he stabs himself in the eye with gray trash drops.