Main Menu
Events Calendar

Latest Threads
You are a fond memory. Good night, CoTH...
Last Post: svempagunnar
09-14-2022 01:12 AM
» Replies: 42
» Views: 92232
Where Are You Now?
Last Post: Tales23
11-24-2020 06:53 PM
» Replies: 16
» Views: 805
What is glistening
Last Post: Xigo
08-17-2020 10:19 AM
» Replies: 9
» Views: 6287
You Can't Go Home Again
Last Post: Scout
03-15-2019 09:24 PM
» Replies: 0
» Views: 4471
"Years of Service" Awards
Last Post: Maulbane
05-26-2018 09:58 PM
» Replies: 100
» Views: 3777

Who's Online
There are currently no members online.

Gardyloo and the Stretching of the Eyeball
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
What ho; I am Gardyloo. Historically the cry of latrine-deprived Tudor home-owners as they flung their 'excess' from the tenements, now the clarion of one seeking entrance to your fine server.

Take that as you will.
(But wear a hat.)
(And thick shoes.)
(Possibly double pairs of socks.)

What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I hail from the Soggy-Shores of England. Unimaginatively, I speak English.

How did you get into Warcraft?:
My youth was once spent lax upon a sofa, tapping out commands to my unconquerable virtual army; dreaming that one day that dizzy realm of Azeroth might be made my own.

I was, of course, inept. Thankfully with Warcraft II came the introduction of the 'It is a Good Day to Die,' cheat - and so the world was swept in blood!

The lack of competitive ability stuck, and so, with migration to Warcraft III, I found myself habiting the tangled backalleys of its roleplaying community. Love festered; forming a lump that Doctors would one day claim undiagnosable.

I am here because of that lump.

How did you find us? Did anything in particular draw you to the server?:
By augury! Lo; there was a Raven- its claw gilt like gold, and curled about a worm. The wormling sang, its melody dolorous, in words of a still-so-distant land.

From there, you were third link down.

What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Mending, tending and graveyard sending. I am fond of healing; but also of anything vague and dimly mystical. There is a certain appeal in being able to claim purported, spiritual enlightenment.

It's probably less fun to actually practice it (I can't be doing with the frock.)

What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Trolls; Sixteen-thousand Years of Civilized History and still barbarians! The practice of their faith is both complex and, at times, stunningly simple-minded, and malleable to the right mind.

I harbour fondness for many of the others: Orcs and Tauren, Forsaken and, on one occasion, a particularly belligerent Gnome named Kevin.

That was a night.

What are your expectations of this server?:
A den for roleplay that may claim whatever time and energy University leaves for me.
(See you March, then!)

Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:

Humility. I'm very humble- in fact I was just telling my friend about it.

Did you know that we have a Mentor Program? It's entirely voluntary and you as a new player can sign up for it right now in your introduction! Are you interested in signing up to be assigned a Mentor? If so, say so here (Please enter at least "Yes" or "No"):

As I fear my play hours might come out odd (what with the Britishness and the University and what have you,) I shall say 'No' for now.

Lastly, tell us a story! It can be short, it can be long; but most importantly, we want to see your work in action. Go!:

The Speech Machine rang out with a yellow buzz. It whined, gurgled, chapped recorded lips and spat into the sink. It emulated the chink as digital spittle struck the plastic basin.
Spencer winced, which made it sigh. This brought him little pleasure, so instead he gave a grimace, which the machine translated as a groan. At this, he smiled – which had the effect of eliciting an electric yawn from the machine – he pinched his face, and let it groan again.
The little box had been connected to his chair after the spread up from his spine. They had recorded all his favourite words and banked the sounds he had liked to make. Not his own voice- some actor's. Penniless, probably, if he was accepting hospital work.

Spencer had pitied him at first, then one morning he woke to the enthusiastic buzz of a stranger's yawn and made up his mind to hate him. Soon the yawn was normal, and as he could remember nothing of the lilting squeak that had been his own, he instead felt nothing. Only vague sickness when he felt his withered, voiceless tongue.
He grimaced, and listened to the box's pleasing, blaring groan. He sneered, and felt it tremble; a rattle in its hand. Once, having checked the wings to see the nurses were not present, he gave it that look which made it scream.

Nurse Sato came in to find him sniggering – that is, squinting at the box so that it fizzed with dirty laughter. “Ah, Spencer, good to see you.” Spencer lopped his nurse a smile, which lit the diodes in his box and made it reply “good morning,” dryly.
Shivering as Sato pressed his fingers through the gown, Spencer tried not to look too hardly at the Nurse. He concentrated on the machine, watched it whir and spin and wink its little flashing diodes. He wondered if that meant that it was 'thinking'.
Peeling as it lifted, the starched clinical fabric yielded to the Nurse's touch. There was a rubber slap, which Spencer recognised as Sato fitting on his stale-smelling protective wear. He was braced and ready, but as he felt the fingers tickle the ridges of his back Spencer convulsed. His jaw snapped and he bit into his lip, so that the box began to laugh as though it had seen the funniest thing in the world.

“Remember a joke, Spencer?”

He had. It had ten fat fingers that were kneading at his skin. He twitched his cheek, which the box communicated as a slightly mumbling apology, but he was thinking of the man stood behind him with his fingers on his flesh.
He had never much liked Sato. The channel of his eyes were too shallow, and his forehead too pronounced. He didn't like the way he spoke or his dirty yellow skin.
He could feel that skin, even through the latex of the gloves. Smell it through the sterile buzz of bleach.
Spencer shivered, promising himself a bath. The orderlies would come to change his bed and take his gown. He would wink into the box's eye and tell them he what he wanted was hot water and to be scrubbed. There was a new one, on the rounds – young, by his standards, and fairly attractive by the same. He smiled to himself. There was no reason he couldn't be her induction into sponge-bathing. She would have to acclimatise to a certain level of intimacy with her wards.

“What was that, Spencer?” The box was watching with its open metal-eye. It had caught Spencer's shifting, inward smile and taken it to mean “higher, Nurse, and a little harder,” which it repeated now in a rusty voice.
Spencer gagged, and had to chew his lip to stem the acid wave shaking in his stomach. Wretched machine! He thought, damning it with a glance. No. No. Impassive. It will read me. He twitched his face and made it smile – this time sweetly. “That's enough Sato, thank you.”

Something in his eyes flickered, but the machine did not recognise or, at any rate, relay it. He had been specific to the technicians as they programmed him his box – under no circumstances, not ever, was it to thank anyone or anything. He had hated the words in both his voices, and they had, smirking, promised not to programme the response to any active stimuli. Snickering in turns, they had warned him of their software's strength – that it might take some getting used to the inbuilt auto-correction protocols but that Shakespeare himself could not command a better understanding of what he ought to be saying by the time it had finished reading his linguistic patterns.

Spencer glared and bit his lip, realising with a lurch that he had been the fool of some techno-junky's sordid trick. Wretched machine! He thought as it rattled again with chink of laughter.

Sato had come around, smiling with those dirty, gummy teeth, and as his box was laughing placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Someone's in good spirits today. Did you sleep well?” The touch lingered, Spencer felt the acid biting at his stomach. “I did Sato,” the box rang, interpreting a shudder. “Thanks to you and your kind work.”

The Nurse's smile widened. Spencer smelt the dampness on his breath and felt the bilge gnawing at his throat. He thought of the bath- of the almost young, fairly pretty woman he would share it with, but then he thought of the hand still clenching at his shoulder, and the yellow face beside him.
Acid frothed into his mouth and slopped over his lips. Sato stripped his hand away and pulled a tissue from his pocket. He wiped Spencer clean, who could now feel his yellow fingers dancing on his lips.

“There,” the Nurse pulled back into the same fat-faced grin. “Spencer? You look like you have something to say.”
Something to say? He wanted to snarl. Yes, I've got something to say.

Spencer twitched and spasm'd – he leered and glowered and told the machine just what he thought of Sato and his dirty, yellow skin.
It said nothing. Then it whirred. A diode blinked, went out, and came on again.
“Thank you, Sato,” it said, its voice a comfortable monotone. “You are good to me.”

Spencer crunched his teeth and was nearly sick again. Sato grinned, and leaning to his face promised “You are quite my favourite patient, but tell me- are you getting along with the Vox-Box?” Here he gave the machine a tap. “We can have the technicians in again if anything needs tuning.”

NO, he screamed, madly blinking. No, no, no, no, no!

But with a whir the machine replied “Yes Sato. It has given me back my life.”
“Glad to hear,” the Nurse beamed, grasping the handles of his chair. “Then we can keep everything as it is?”
Spencer was frozen, but the machine's diodes flashed. “Yes, Sato.”

He was wheeled through the hospital, screaming with a withered tongue.

Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Was there supposed to be a word-limit?
I'm presuming there was a word-limit.
I'm ignoring your word-limit. How's that for humility?:

In honesty though, I apologise for my silliness. 'Tis twelve noon now and I write this on a sleepless night. I hope not to have too much taxed your eyeballs - they are precious, and will one day be a rare commodity.
Throm'ka, potential recruit!

You have taken a tremendous step with this submission! You will receive an 'official' response in due time, but meanwhile you may wish to ensure you've reviewed the following:
  • Rules (Remember, ignorance is no excuse in the case of rule-breaking! Don't make the Peon Overseers lash you with the whip any more than necessary!)
  • Policies (There are some policies that may be rather uncommon, so if you have not yet checked them then spare a moment to do so!)

Some extra reading that may be of use:
Soon, you should receive a reply to your submission from one of the Peon Overseers informing you of whether you are a suitable candidate for Peonship. Be patient! Just review the above information and a response will come before you know it! As an aside, I think Peon Gardyloo has an... er... 'interesting' ring to it, eh?
Hello there, Gardyloo! Welcome to Conquest of the Horde!

Oh, don't you mind your silliness. I'm loving it, personally. This introduction is pretty great! Also, you should get in touch with @Maulbane for some Orc and Tauren-friendly shenanigans!

Do you have Skype? If so, you should check out this thread! Feel free to add my Skype (loxmardin) as well, if you want to chat, ask questions or have me add you to the official CotH Skype Group, manually!

Remember to register your in-game account in the Account Management page with the exact information you registered your forum name under. Also, take a look at this announcement about the .LFRP command! It's totally useful!

As per standard approval procedure, I'm going to link you to a few nice places that it certainly doesn't hurt if you double-check and make yourself extra familiar with. These are the Rules and Policies, as well as the FAQs. They've got a bunch of vital information in them. Don't forget to "/join Chat" for general chatter, "/join Barrens" for general randomness and more spammy chatter in-game!

Without further ado, welcome to the server and I hope we'll see you around!

Happy RPing!

Overseer Loxmardin
Loxy, you deprived me the honor of approving this introduction.
Yes. :|

I yanked it.
(Fight, fight, fight.)

Quick Reply
Type your reply to this message here.

Human Verification
Please tick the checkbox that you see below. This process is used to prevent automated spam bots.

Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)

This forum uses Lukasz Tkacz MyBB addons.