There Is A Part 2 To This Part 3

THE IRON AGE - The Time of Ore
For quite some time, I was content to simply play WoW again – It was something to do out of boredom. Even in-game, there was a lull. It had been months since a patch, and the server was calm. Kanoa and I did dailies….daily, ground out gear piece by piece. I became pleasantly involved in my new character, this warlock. Affliction spec was fun, you could Immolate/Corruption/Unstable Affliction/Curse of Agony/Siphon Life/Fear/Drain Life ANYTHING down. Just sic your pet of choice on the target and load 5 DoTs on it. Pick a new target, load 5 DoTs on it, and fear it. Pick a third target, load five DoTs on it, and drain tank it. You end up with full health (and, being a warlock, the complete control over mana via sacrificing health) and three targets dead. Those were the glory days.
I started to actively take an interest in my character, a certain pride in the Warlock class as a whole, an affiliation with the Blood Elf community, and of course the secure knowledge that Tichondrius was the few, the proud, the 4chan of Warcraft. I began looking up specific things that would further advance my power – which instances offered caster loot, what stats I wanted, etc. The finer points of ranged caster dps, which was an entirely different world from any previous character I had played.
I leveled tailoring to 375 and ground out my Frozen Shadoweave set in a matter of weeks – I was actually improving, getting more out of the game. I could notice a direct correlation between every new upgrade and my damage output.
Also, it was winter in the pacific northwest, which meant the sun set at around 4:30 pm, and my roommate was….grating.
So I began consolidating my assets, and I joined a guild.
Nobody plays a face-melting solo the first time they pick up a guitar.
I joined a trade-chat guild – some entry –level grouping that spammed the chat channels looking for enough members to attempt an actual raid. Know now that these are doomed to fail from the beginning (Usually. But I digress.) This guild immediately, like some bizarre flavor of Katamari, accumulated the gutter trash of Tich – So many, in fact, that we had to actually get organized. The leader of this guild, whos name (and the name of the guild) I have forgotten, was ineffectual at leading, or organizing, or actually understanding the boss fights. So we were left to scrabble together a group of 10 to try Karazhan, the mythical first raid dungeon of TBC. Blah Blah wizard’s tower, Lore Blah Blah. The point is you need two tanks, three healers, and at least one mage, shaman, and (tadaa) warlock. We had two healers, one decently geared tank, and the rest of us in blues and crafted epics.
It was a multiple-hour long travesty, a gaggle of retards joined at the waist frantically waving swords in every direction. A stupid rogue caused drama, people gquit, people hearthed, I tried to take charge only to realize that you cannot, in fact, herd cats, and in the end I walked away with a hardened heart and a shiny dagger I kept for the rest of my game.
(Authors Note: An important think to keep in mind is, raids in WoW use a process of “saving” and “locking” and “resetting” on a weekly basis – essentially, if somebody fucks up your raid, you can’t try again until next Tuesday.)
So I joined another guild: Pandora – they, too, were advertising in Trade, but I talked with the guy and he seemed less retarded. Pandora was exactly one step above my previous guild – We were still doing Karazhan, but since there were 30+ people in the guild, it was divided into 3 groups of 10 who ran simultaneously. I was taught the basics of raiding – Voice chat on Vent, watching my generated threat on the meters, when to shut up and listen to someone tell you what to do. I got things wrong, and then I didn’t. I got some loot, and then I didn’t. It was exciting because it was new content, and I was learning.

Pandora fell apart for stupid reasons that I forget. Maybe people stopped showing because they had better things to do (highly probable) and because they weren’t getting invited to raids (also probable).
The point was I was if not sad to see it go, it affected me. The nasty trick of end-game content is, you cannot do it alone. You need a guild to raid, and you need to raid to progress. But I digress.

Then I, an eager rookie with Karazhan under my belt, was approached by a guy I ran with, Kromidus, and joined his guild, Oblivion.
This was my first real “guild” – in fact, it was the first for all of us. Oblivion was made up of the best of the worst guilds that fell apart. Krom would watch trade chat guilds rise, party with a few of them, and scout out those of us who were quickly frustrated by the limitations that rose. When our guilds inevitably fell apart, he would invite us to his guild. He was actually much smarter than I realized at the time, and Oblivion is a top-tier end game guild in WotLK currently. He still leads. But I digress.
My team was the last to join – With us, our numbers grew to a size that we could attempt 25-man raids – Coilfang Resevoir and Tempest Keep.
Just because we could attempt them, doesn’t mean we should have.

Week after week, we struggled with the first boss of each. Trash was murder, and we weren’t nearly organized as we needed to be. It wasn’t any specific, targetable thing – if it had been, Krom or one of us would’ve spotted it and taken care of it. Instead, it was just the nasty truth that most of us were below average, and when you stacked our flaws 25 times, we couldn’t cut it.
We killed Hydross a few times, and that gave us hope, but we couldn’t repeat it. It was luck that got us as far as Lurker, and we Just. Hit. A Wall there.
Christmas came and went, and I took a break from WoW since I actually had friends.
By the time I came back, spirits were low.
So I started sleeping around – I had since learned that real guilds didn’t ask you to join, you submitted an application. I formulated a resume and surreptitiously applied to several guilds as a Decent Affliction Lock. Looking back, I think I applied to Cult of Reason (they were full on Locks), Bloodshot (they were too good), Foundation (they died), Martyrdom (accepted), and Conversation Over, among other ones I forget.
The point was, I was at that awkward stage – my gear was too good for Kara, maybe the first half of SSC, but I couldn’t handle Vashj or Kael.
Meanwhile, fucking Djinn's guild Neurotic was competing with Pagan Spiral for 3rd Best Horde Guild (#1 and 2 are, and forever will be, respectively The Core and Triad. They are gods.), and he continually taunted me with his constant victories and conquests and shiny fucking shiny weapons.
I actually submitted these applications BEFORE Christmas, and checked up on them afterwards – the consensus was, “Get some better gear, and reapply”.
So I did. I blew my cash on a second crafted tailoring set, and braved the world of PuG’s to milk Kara for all it had.
All while smashing my head against the bricks with the rest of Oblivion.
Until one fateful night, when I was contacted by a character I’d eventually learn to salute – Vikingodin, Warlock Class Leader of Conversation Over.
The conversation went something like this:
Him: You’re in. Get on vent and get to SSC, we’re doing a trial/attunement run
Me: Uh, slight hangup there. I’m actually in SSC right now with my current guild
Him: You’re either in or your out.
Me: Done.
So, in a blaze of glory, I – during another failed Lurker attempt –, hearthed out, joined CO’s raid, zoned back in, and killed the first boss before anybody went “Wait, where the fuck is Malachi?” “Says he’s still in SSC...” “Well he damn sure wasn’t at his station” “Malachi, what the fuck are you doing”. To which I responded with “FOLLLLOOOOOWIIIIIIIING. MYYYYYYYY. DESSSSSSTINNNNEEEEYY!”.
Kromidus, who immediately realized my betrayal, said “You know, you could have just told me”.
He understood.
And so, my basic training in Raiding completed, I joined Conversation Over – with absolutely zero knowledge of what I was getting myself in to.