Friday, June 4, 2010

Exiled: The Gauntlet

Left of the ring, before the first brazier, on the way to plagueworks, the wall of ICC juts outward creating what can only be classified as a nook. This is where Rylus and I find our toons standing and waiting... check that... not standing. A circling Val'kyr made its turn toward us, due momentarily to fly directly over our heads, and our best plan for survival is to... sit down.

My GM, Rylus, and I, now SITTING in a nook, all alone in ICC, take a moment to wonder if this was a mistake. In a few moments we would find out. The whole reason we were here was a mistake to begin with. A guild ICC alt run had ended 90 minutes earlier. In its haste, a piece of loot had been left on Festergut's corpse. More specifically, a piece of MY loot had been left on Festergut's corpse, and I was determined to get it.

I had noticed the piece missing from my bag while purchasing gems in Org mere minutes after the raid disbanded. Quickly I invited Laenicus, one of my oldest guildies, to a group, converted to raid, and hauled tail back into ICC to claim my goods. I let out a sigh of relief as I moused over Festergut and saw a loot bag on his corpse. My gloves were still there! "Yay." But I could not loot them to myself.  "Boo."

I was forced to wait.  Thirty minutes, one GM ticket, and three rooms of respawned trash later, my guild master was able to get in touch with the only toon who could hand the gloves to me. The loot master. Rylus, using his expansive powers of 'wow'dom, assumed control of the loot master's toon, and joined me in ICC.

The gauntlet was set.

The problem: How to get a shaman through three rooms of trash mobs to loot a boss.

The solution: Improvise.

Dear readers, allow me to take this moment to tell you there may have been a few spirits consumed during this decision making process.

Understandably, our guildies were skeptical of our odds of success. Rylus, on a shaman he had never played before, and myself, on a pally alt who had never been in ICC before this night, did not inspire much faith in our cause. This was the reason our calls for assistance were met with responses like "You're crazy." "Waist of time." "Just open a ticket."

Exiled in ICC, we listened as EVERYONE told us it could not be done... save one.

Pinko, a rogue you may recall from my tales of Ulduar, had spent his night carrying our ICC 10 all the way through plagueworks. It'd only be fitting that he volunteer to rescue our rescue mission. Volunteer he did, and rescue he would. But back to the story.

Slowly, menacingly, the Val'kyr made its way in our direction. Sitting at my desk, I started ducking my head as the Val'kyr grew closer. (Why, I do not know. Why do truck drivers duck when they go under a low bridge? It's just what people do.) Ducking, holding my breath, giggling at the absurdity of the situation, I watched as the Val'kyr flew by without detecting us. "Unbelievable." I thought aloud. "This might actually work."

The first obstacle was cleared, the next awaited, and it was time to enact "The Plan". Our 6 to 8 step plan involved pally bubbles, sprint potions, an ahnk, a DI, and gobs of luck.

It did not work.

The abominations, scientists, and geists proved too much for us to survive.  Still, our spirits were high. Attempts 1, 2, and 3 had failed, but now Pinko was on the way and things were looking up for attempt number 4. Our new "The Plan" consisted of 12 to 15 steps, involved basically every pally, shaman, and rogue talent we could imagine, and crazy as it may seem, actually made sense... to us.

Once again sitting in a nook, Rylus and I watched as Pinko stealthed right up to the belly of an abom. We waited as we had waited before, waiting again until it was time to not be waiting anymore. The Val'kyr patrolled by, the geists came into range, and then...

Pinko shot at the circling geists, pulling agg on the aboms, popping evasion and sprinting his rogue booty across the room. The mobs followed. Rylus and I waited for the doorway to clear then hustled up the stairs to the plagueworks' hallway. One by one we aggro'd mad scientists and geists as we ran down the hall. We laughed at Pinko laughing at how far he was kiting those aboms.  Our lead on the geists soon shrank to nothing. I bubbled Rylus, dropped consecrate, popped a lay on hands, and died with out-stretched hand as we made the right turn towards Festergut's room. I watched as my GM became slimed, inching in epic slow motion toward the finish with mobs catching him from behind and beating him down. Steps from the door and unable to cast a thing, Rylus willed the loot master's toon across the threshold and into Festergut's domain.

Death. Reset. Ahnk. Loot! (And Pinko still kiting)

The last 4 steps of the 15 step plan were my favorite. =D

Nay sayers be damned.  Three toons, exiled in ICC, ran a gauntlet to help a guildie and came out victorious. 

My gratitude goes out to those two guildmates who refused to quit.  Thank you Pinko!  Thank you Rylus!

Note: The GM ticket was closed after 2 and 1/2 hours having never been answered.