I am a griffon-route fanatic -- I will get myself killed, repeatedly, trying to make it to any griffon route I know of. Bartolomei, for instance, has made it to Feathermoon, an outpost in a 40-50 zone. He actually made it there without dying as a matter of fact.  He had to leap off an enormous cliff to escape several Horde scouts (PvP enabled and level ??)  But thankfully Divine Protection shields you from all damage. Including the damage of falling half a mile onto solid rock.

There are only three griffon routes I know of that he does not have. 1) Nethergarde Keep, which guards the shattered portal that the orcs came through. 2) The Hinterlands, home of non-Alliance dwarves (whom he really likes). 3) The Western Plague Lands -- Ground Zero for the Scourge. So this morning, I decided to make a run for two of them.

Hinterlands turned out to be easy. A few ogres swatted at him. One Syndicate footpad stabbed him in the back. But they weren't all that threatening. Then, after dodging a really nasty dragon, he made it to the Hinterlands and made the acquaintence of some excellent, sensible, down-to-earth dwarves. Griffon back to Southshore. And then he tried for the Plague Lands.

Again, it turned out to be far easier than he'd expected. A bit of dodging, a bit of smackage and running... but nothing too terrible. The griffon route was in the camp of the Argent Dawn, on the very edge of the Plague Lands. Bartolomei instantly despised the Argent Dawn.  Horde collaborators of the worst kind.  They even had a mouthy Tauren in their camp.

Now, at this point, a sensible person would have flown back to Southshore.  (Though, one might argue, a sensible 32nd level paladin wouldn't be in the Plague Lands to begin with; mobs start around 50 and go up fast from there.)  But there was a problem.

According to his tutors, the tomb of Uther Lightbringer lay in the Plague Lands, not far from the entrance to that cursed region. And as he stood in the camp of the Argent Dawn, Bartolomei realized that he was probably no more than a mile from Uther's final resting place. The mere thought made him feel like a giddy squire. The Lightbringer's Tomb!  A mile away, no more!  He could make it a mile.  Couldn't he?  I mean, hadn't he made it all the way to the Plague Lands, with no serious complications?  Bartolomei hemmed and hawed for a bit, but in the end, the idea of saying a prayer at Uther's grave was just too enthralling.  He couldn't go back to Stormwind without at least trying.

So he heads off, into the Plague Lands.  And... nothing happens. There are no monsters.  Hell, there doesn't even appear to be any Plague.  He strolls along through lovely, autumnal woods, growing more confident (err, cocky?) by the moment.

Finally the sky grows dim and grey, and he spots the ruins of a town.  Sorrow Hill. "The Front Line of the battle against the Scourge", as the Argent Dawn called it.  And it does indeed have undead in it.  Big ones.  Very big ones.  One that make Stitches (bane of his life) look like a kobold vermin.

Bartolomei paused at the gate, biting his lip.  Uther's Tomb was supposed to be on the other side of this town.  It couldn't be more than 400 feet away.  And yeah, the undead were horrible. But there wern't THAT many of them... and they were quite a ways away... and... and... and...

And how hard could it be to sneak 400 feet?

(ooc: Ry begins watching me at this point, because he thinks this is too funny. And as I inch my character forward, he says, "You do remember, don't you, that aggro range is level-dependent? The bigger the difference between you and the mob, the further away they can sense you?" "Oh shit, I forgot!" I said. About a moment too late.)

Bartolomei took one step onto Sorrow Hill.  One step, I swear.   And every undead monstrosity within sight immediately turned and charged towards him.

(ooc: "OOOH! Veal!" Ry squealed, doing his best undead imitation. "I haven't had veal in AGES!" Yes, clearly these poor mobs had been forced to eat nothing but old, tough, and stringy paladins.  An opportunity to get one that still had some juice in him drove them into a frenzy.)

The good news was, Bartolomei had an enormous head start (ooc: ...since they aggro'd from halfway across the freaking zone...). He turned and ran like he'd never run before, and didn't slow down until he hit the Argent Dawn camp.  And mercifully the undead didn't chase him all the way into the camp.  (I had visions of the poor kid throwing himself onto a griffon, fifteen feet ahead of the slavering horde of Scourge.)  So he was able to pause, catch his breath, and walk back into the camp with some measure of dignity.

But he never got to say his prayers at the Tomb of the Lightbringer.

Bah, humbug!

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