No surprise, then, that I'd do the same thing in WoW. Now that Warforge has hit 80, he's still plugging away on things. Yesterday, I earned my 'Crusader' title, which was pretty cool to finally get...but that's not the one that made me cheer out loud. A couple days ago, I got it in my head to do a little fishing...in Orgrimmar. Yes, I got the fever to catch Old Crafty.
"I made it to the Valley of Spirits without dying, even though I was unarmored (gotta watch those durability numbers, no need to waste them, huh?). Settled in, strung my Truesilver Line on my graphite Fishing Pole, placed my Weather-Beaten Fishing Hat on my head, and started casting. Kinda nice and peaceful back there. The trainers and such gave me dirty looks, but either they didn't really care or they knew I could chop them into salsa if I wanted, so they left it at that.
"As for soldiers of the Horde, well, I got a few odd looks. A Gnome in Orgrimmar? Mostly, though, they saw that I was quietly fishing and bothering no one and left me alone. Needless to say, there were the asshats who just HAD to come and kill me, and each one found that I didn't even bother fighting back. I yawned at them and waited...seriously, I don't see why that's so fan, but whatever. I even had one Blood Elf chick come and flirt with me, joke around, and generally act like a cool person, but it turned out she was just watching to make sure I stayed there until her guild-mate could arrive. What a bitch.
"Anyway, Cabayero (*snobahr*) joined me for a little bit, and added to the surreal nature of our fishing trip by wearing a blue dress that would have looked great on the Blood Elf, but was stretched all wrong on his muscles. I swear, I think the guy likes wearing it, but he always claims it's just a joke...by that time we'd moved to a slightly more out-of-way spot, but our casts could still be seen coming out from behind the rocks, and we still drew attention. Eventually we had a whole crowd of Horde bastards come and stomp us, so we ran back to our bodies and stared at them before resurrecting. They got bored, and we went back to work. Caba had to run though, and it was back to just lil' ol' me. Just as well, that dress was starting to freak me out, and he kept 'accidentally' rubbing up against me.
"I found another spot, back behind a building, and kept at it. The day was getting hot, and the wet area made it muggy. Glad I wasn't in the armor, or I'd have passed out. Finally, I was at a spot that only attracted attention if they heard me, and that was easier to control. I still had a couple assholes who didn't want me fishing in their lake, but they are easy to deal with. Six damn hours I was there, my arm was getting tired, and my nostrils were full to brimming with the smell of unwashed orcs. I was ready to give up and admit that Ol' Crafty had out-craftied me...
"...the line caught again. This was not one of the Longjaw Snappers or Bristle Whisker Catfish I'd been fishing up all day, this was strong. I played the line a little, it caught again and slipped. 'Smart fish,' I thought, and then 'could it be...?' He fought the line, I pulled and reeled. I had him, and still he didn't give up. I just knew this would be when one of those damn Death Knights would decide to play 'Stomp The Gnome', but I guess the Great Engineer had His mighty goggles turned in my direction. In the oppressive valley, the only sounds were the splash of the water and the grunting of determined Gnome. Finally, I threw all caution to the wind (and ANY wind would be a blessing in that stinking place!), gave a haul on the pole, and dove forward, scooping with my hat. Something wriggled and jiggled and fought like a wild demon. Pulling it out of the water, reaching inside...
"...I was face-to-gill with the fabled fish of Orgrimmar, Old Crafty himself. He was a big ol' bastard, too, scarred around the lips and flanks from years of escaping hooks and traps. He still fought me but, c'mon, I've learned the Titan's Grip, if I can heft those huge damn axes around, I can hold on to a sport fish. I briefly considered releasing him; this is a legend, and others would want to try their luck against him. I knew I'd done it, where so many had failed...then I came to my senses and tossed him in my back pack. What's the fun in accomplishing something if people don't know about it!
"Glad to see the end of this accursed city, I hearthstone'd back to Dalaran (armored again...man, it's cold up there!). I wanted to show the world what I'd done, but the true Gnomish way would have been to blow something up, and I wanted to keep this one as a trophy. I opted for the next best thing: I ran wild around the streets, fish in hand, held aloft like a weapon, hollering and carrying on.
"Maybe next week, I'll go get Old Ironjaw out of Ironforge..."
So, yeah. 6 hours of fishing in Orgrimmar (enemy capital city, I'm asking for it by being there at all!), 9 to 12 PvP deaths, all four of Romero's "Living Dead" films in the background, and one sore shoulder later...Warforge added "Old Crafty" to his achievement list.