No theory speak in this post. It's all about when pve becomes pvp.
Rollin' down the highway, I was doing several quests simultaneously in this new land. I had been here briefly before, but had no recollection of the folk that resided here or the dangers that lay behind the trees or in the streams. I was feeling quite masterful, with my blue demon minion and my growing caster talent. We are a great team, and e're long, all we encountered went down: humanoids, murlock fishfrogs, River Paw Scouts, Defias bandits, prowler wolves, young bears...any that you could name; we did smote it.
As we finished off a wolf, a figure appeared on my right. He wore a colorful outfit, and he carried a mighty axe. He killed that wolf, and stood there looking at me. I looked him over, and then with great fear realized his name was writ in red. Yes, red. Red, as the devil, for he was Horde.
I looked him up and down. He stood but a level 20. At least I had a chance with him, or so I thought. I targetted him and cast a spell. In one fell swoop he smote me.
So it was. But, I ran back to finish my quests. I cared not a whit about beating him. T'was just a bit of fun. So back I ran, back from the dead that is. I looked around. None be near. I rezzed and meant to carry on. But it was not to be. I heard a thwack. Twas the sound of me own head splitting open like a mellon as the Horde weasel killed me. Back to the graveyard again, and then quickly back to my corpse. This time I actually looked around with greater care before I rezzed. No sign of him. I rezzed. He showed up immediately.
Now you're not supposed to corpse camp like that. T'is bad form. In fear I quickly cried out: "Don't kill me. I'm a wimp on a quest." But of course Horde and Alliance do not speak the same language. What I said was but gibberish to him, as his words to me. I knew I needed to act fast. After all, t'was I who'd whacked him in the first place. He certainly had a right to continue to pown me. So I looked for some respectful emotes. I went with a bow, which for me, as a lady, was actually a curtsy. He seemed amused. He bowed to me.
I tried a salute, to say "okay, ya' bastard, you win. Now leave me alone." He lol'ed.
Hoping to avoid a quick beheading, I reached deep and gave the bounder a kneel, and I have to say that it hurt to do that, to kneel before the Horde, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Things seemed to be going well. I thought I might actually live through this.
There was an awkward pause as we stared at each other. We each called out something, that neither of us understood of course. Then, happily, he turned to go. As he turned to leave, I thought I'd throw a final thanks for sparing me life. I couldn't just let it go now, could I? Oh no, I thought I'd be clever and call myself a chicken. I saw the chicken emote and went with it. Alas, to me horror it ended up with me flapping like a chicken and making chicken noises...something you might do when you called someone a chicken!
He turned. I gulped.
Then he moo'ed, the same in Alliance and Horde language, for a cow is but a cow, no matter what field she stand in.
And we both laughed.
Now the amusing thing is that, I continued to fulfill my quests, I could listen on the chat channel to Alliance folks further down the road dealing with my Horde friend. Apparently he was slaying all, left and right, and folks were working up some ire about it. Hey, how did this Horde guy get in here! Someone said they thought they could take him down, since he was only a lvl 20. Wishing to save them from the same mistake I'd made, I jumped on the channel and said as how he'd owned me. Then I whispered to the braggart fool who claimed she could take him with her hunter, that I had to kiss his ring to get out alive, and I recommended it to her. For sometimes, you know, you gotta do what you gotta do.
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