Jun 8th 2010 8:30PM I'm leveling a draenai holy paladin in LFD, I zoned into Wailing Cavern and we were all about 15-19, I was the highest level). About 5 pulls in, our nelf rogue from a notorious EU realm in our BGroup (this realm is Horde heavy 80% to Alliance 20%, all GS/trade spam/MS/hardcore epeeners -worst nightmare) started ragging on our dps druid in /w about his talent points!
The druid wanted to just quit the dungeon saying he couldn't be bothered with the stress. I told the rogue to "Stop being a d**k."
The druid still quit the dungeon, but the rogue's attitude changed and we actually then had a good run and all finished with some nice blue loots. I don't know if the druid was a new player but I hope he wasn't put off.
Morale of the story? Don't be afraid to call it if someone is out of line, only we can change attitudes because Blizz sure can't.
May 11th 2010 3:14PM Sergeant Marchaer eased himself down from the saddle of his ram and winced as pain lanced up his left side. "Easy lass, there's no Frostwolf cannonade here!" he said
to his grizzled old mount, who snorted at her masters unease. Marchaer ruffled her mane while feeding her some spring grasses, and happy at her settling he started to strip off his heavy burnished Saronite pauldrons and chest plate.
Easing back into the low hillside where the wind didn't blow over the top, he tapped out his old tobacco pipe. "Well lass, here we are at last." he said absent-mindedly stoking and lighting up. He eased back and let the smoke go, his hand wandering to a scorched libram slung low from his girdle. Tracing the runes just legible on the cover he muttered to himself, furrows on his brow showing a discomfort his shoulders didn't.
Maechaer chanted under his breath the words indiscernible, the discarded armour lessened it's incessant black hiss and he gazed again towards the horizon where the westering sun was melting into the sea.
"It is done like we said it shall be done, He is dead, we are avenged. Light hold the survivors in your Grace awhile longer."
Marchaer's eyes heavied as he looked around at the dusk falling slowly on him, and whispered to himself
"Aye, this'll do fine. We can rest here awhile. I think we've earned it"