… But still fun nonetheless. Finally, a tauren-sized mount!
When I was twelve or so, all of my budding hipster friends had fancy cruiser bicycles and I had a mountain bike. The mountain bike — despite the lack of mountain ranges within biking distance and my innate aversion to the outdoors — was what I’d wanted for my twelfth birthday. I couldn’t exactly ask for a new bike. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I did. But my agitated parents didn’t deliver. Personally, I don’t even know how they could stand me.
Anyway, it was traumatic, really, being the lone wolf on a clunky contraption while the rest of your friends went sailing around on their cruisers with a perfect stack of unread books in their front baskets. Of course, I eventually got over this hurdle and went on to be the perfectly semi-functioning adult that I am today.
And then came the Raven Lord, the mythical Burning Crusade mount of my dreams. I didn’t play much during the majority of TBC, nor did I have the wisdom to roll a druid back then, nor did I have any druids on speed dial to summon the boss for me, so it remained out of my reach. I stopped thinking about it and farmed rep for a fleet of Talbuks and Netherwing drakes instead.
However, my jealousy was reawakened one morning of routine unsold auction collecting at the mailbox. Someone had parked their Raven Lord mount in just the right spot so as to allow for its tail to slap me in the face every few moments. It was clear: I needed to be able to do this to people.
And so, like many other slaves of RNG, I began running Sethekk Halls daily. For the first few runs, right as I pulled Anzu, I’d get this feeling of hope in my heart. This is it, I’d think, I can feel the loot table. It’s going to drop. Was I psychic? Thirty runs later, I decided I was an idiot.
And then — somewhere around my fiftieth run (which is still a lot of time invested, but lucky compared to some) when I’d given up hope and more or less decided that I was over the Raven Lord — it dropped.
With flying mounts being far more relevant these days, it’s less of a status symbol and more of a testament to pixel devotion, but at least I never have to zone into Sethekk Halls again. Next on my wishlist: the elusive Sea Turtle.