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Greetings Folks!
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
Howdy folks! My name is Douglas and I'm a 20 year old white dude poking about for more serious RP. I am avid gamer, enjoying RTS games, -certain- FPS's (Like CoD4!) and the occasional RPG. I still play regular retail WoW, since I've found good folks to play with there, but I've been wanting to play on a serious RP setting for awhile now - I'm a writer at heart. I'm a friendly, tolerant guy, looking to meet folks and most of all have fun.

What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I hail from the good ol' US of A, and speak American English. I am a happy resident of Southern California, and have lived here most of my life.

How did you get into Warcraft?:
For retail WoW, a good buddy of mine from high school finally convinced me to join him and see what all the fuss was about. I became very enthusiastic about the game, gradually leveling to 77 over a period of 6 months. During that time, I read the book Day of the Dragon and became very interested in the Warcraft lore, and started to RP on my RP server Argent Dawn. I enjoy WoW as a game still, have yet to reach 80 though since I'm taking my time to enjoy and soak in the lore blizzard has put in.

What made you seek our server over others?:

You guys seem to have a very mature outlook and approach to the whole process. Maturity on the interwebs can be very difficult to find! You also seem to have a flexible outlook regarding RP, another big plus.

What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Varied - it depends upon the situation, since I am a highly adaptive player. Adventure and fantasy rank up there for me. Realism is important to me, as in plot realism - for example traveling across the continent will take some IC time. One on one scenes are fine, and group scenes are especially preferred - oft times the more the merrier. I love being able to integrate to a plot, and help push along a story and most of all - create an interesting story.

What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Hyoomans! And Paladins! Mainly because that is the spec of my main character on Argent Dawn - but also because for humans, I find RPing as them far more engrossing and easy to do, since.. I am one! For paladins, they are bastions of light and good, and (typically) all around good folks, focused on helping people and defending the weak. All those get major props from me.

What are your expectations of this server?:
A community that's friendly, open, laid-back, and happy to do interesting RP things! Also, a mature, tolerant, and respectful player base that's open to RP ideas and plotlines.

Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Two really grab my attention: The typing coherency rule (YES!!) and the respect rule. Dealing with people whu tpe lke dis n r all lke hai dere gve meh teh goldz 4 epc mount plx lulz!11!?? gets trying after a while <_<

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!:
Well then! You will get a glimpse at Frederick in action - the character I intend to introduce to this realm.


It was a perilous dark night - the moon had long since sunk behind the horizon, dark clouds covered the sky - a light drizzle sprinkled the countryside as a trio of riders stormed down a winding dirt road. They were clad in mail, but were surprisingly quiet - rags stuffed in between the joints of their armor. They were riding through Hillsbrad - longtime battlefield of Azeroth, and now one of the few remaining bastions of the former kingdom of Lordaeron. The horde, especially the forsaken, the scourge, the syndicate, and the cult of the damned...all threats that had been and remained thorns in their side.

The trio were approaching an out of the way farmhouse, the windows dark, shades drawn...inconspicuous, and rather ordinary. The riders reared up their steeds a hundred yards from the building, slipping off their mounts like silent wraiths and creeping into a nearby grove of trees, tugging the horses along. They reemerged a few moments later, the lead man turning, regarding his two companions. A silent nod and a knowing gaze was exchanged between the three - they were on a mission. They were soldiers of Southshore, the capital of the region, and thus the target of countless infiltrators - the cult of the damned chief among them. Though it had been nearly a decade since Arthas ravaged Lordaeron, the cult continued their nefarious deeds unceasingly, always seeking to undermine, subvert, sabotage, and destroy.

The lead man was tall, and somewhat lean - his blue eyes gleaming under the T slit of his helm, regarding the house as if it had personally insulted his mother. He lifted his gloved right hand, and motioned forward, the band hustling up the hill, steady, quiet, determined. Though disciplined, every man felt the thrill of anticipation. This was supposedly a key safe house for one of the cult captains - if they were successful, not only would they take out several cultists, but they could get their hands on a wealth of valuable intel, and cripple the cult's efforts for months, if not years. They were a small band out of necessity - as some of their own officers were suspected cult members. Tension had risen to an unbearable point in the Southshore militia - far too many raids had failed, too many patrols had been ambushed, and a beloved captain had been found the previous day brutally murdered. A line had been crossed.

They were one band amongst a dozen - the small teams sent to all known important cult targets, all with the same goal. Frederick was the lead for this group, a soldier who had fought with the militia for almost eight years, and had only recently joined the military proper. They were at the front door, swords drawn - Frederick's was unusual. A long blade, covered with knicks and dents, it had been a ceremonial blade passed down through his family... he was the only surviving member of his line, the bulk of them snuffed out in the culling of Stratholme, and the rest presumed dead in the aftermath of the Andorhal Massacre. The sword was one of the few remaining mementos he had. Wilson and he flanked the door, and Rufus, a heavy set man stood before it. Fred lifted his left hand. Three... Two... One.

Rufus lifted a metal clad boot and kicked - knocking the door down flat - the trio quickly entered, Frederick taking the rear, maintaining a tight formation as they moved to the center of the main room. Quiet, dark... nothing. This was bad. They moved from room to room, careful, and thorough...for all appearances, so far, it was an abandoned house. They stacked up on the stairs, Fredrick taking the lead, advancing with a raised shield, eyes scanning the room... this was a perfect spot to get ambushed, and sure enough, a flicker of movement...

He quickly ducked - a blast of arcane magic slamming into the wall right beside him with a heavy THUNK. He scrambled up the stairs, Rufus and Wilson close behind - his shield lifted as a man clad in dark robes screeched at them and threw another ball of magic. He rose his shield, wincing as the blast dented it, and lunged with his sword, quickly - burying it in the man's chest. Surprise. This was too easy, and he was...laughing? He lifted his foot to kick the man off his blade with disgust, as the door to his right burst open.

He turned his head, catching a glimpse of two men with fiery robes, a cauldron behind them, the stench of death hitting him full bore. He reeled back, as an explosive potion was hurled his way - landing on the floorboards with a vicious sizzling. He only had time to cry out in surprise, and move - where? Wilson was to his right... He gave the man a rough shove and was thrown back as the bottle detonated, dimly aware of impacting the wall behind him before he blacked out.

He soon awoke with a groan, gritting his teeth - his helmet was askew, he had dropped his blade, and his ears were ringing...something was in his right hand. He glanced down, dazed, spreading his fingers... his worry stone. A small, smooth rock, made of obsidian, the side profile of a dragon's head, blood red, adorning the front. His father had given it to him long ago, and he carried it with him always. How had it gotten there...? He looked up, blinking in surprise.

One of the men in fiery robes had his back to him, gesticulating wildly, seeming to be in the middle of a mad rant. Rufus was nowhere to be seen, and Wilson was staring down the tall man worriedly, in a defensive stance. He couldn't hear a thing, but.. it was obvious what needed to be done.

He slipped the stone into his other hand, and started to ease himself up - his body protesting, muscles straining...nice, and slow. Keep it quiet.. so far, he escaped notice. In a few moments, he was standing, trembling slightly - Wilson quickly noticing, his eyes widening with surprise. Frederick drew back his right arm, and whispered softly. "Oy, you forgot me" The robed man jolted, whirling about with a snarl - and Fred caught him square in the jaw with his fist. Wilson was soon upon him, as Fred grimaced and shook his hand, pain reeling through it- but.. it was enough of a distraction. The man was soon pinned, and tightly bound with rope, and given a good knock or two on the head for good measure by Wilson.

Half an hour later, the three stood regarding the structure, Rufus holding a torch in his left hand, his right in a crude sling. The captured, unconscious man was already set in one of the horse's saddles, slumped backwards. They had collected some papers, but not many... and the torture chamber they had found was quite grisly. It would soon be cleansed with fire. Fred nodded with a deep sigh, his arms folded. "Do it. Let's get outta here... I could use a damned drink." Rufus nodded, and tossed the torch into the doorway, bouncing once, before stilling - the fire quickly spreading. They regarded it calmly for a moment, before one by one, they began to turn, Wilson clapping Fred's shoulder lightly as he and Rufus headed for the horses.

Frederick offered him a small grin, lingering just a moment longer, holding that stone in his hand, running his bare thumb over the front of it thoughtfully as he stared into the flames, the dragon's head seeming to glow in the bright gleam of the fire. His eyes narrowed, deep in thought... until Rufus called out. "C'mon lad, we best be off - this lout's buddies are likely to see the fire anytime now." He nodded, and stuffed the stone in a pouch about his waist, jogging to his steed Saphira and hoisting himself up smoothly onto her back. A last look back.. allowing a grin of triumph to cross his features before he cracked the reins sharply "Yah!" And they were off, the trio quickly vanishing into the dark hills, headed back for home.


Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I am rather curious about what world events have taken place in the server already! Do you folks have something of an archive to this effect? Oh! And are there mods out there that help with logging chat and RP and whatnot? Other then that... I look forward to hearing back from you and seeing what you think of me! Thank you for your time.
Welcome to the server! I think the name Frederick (Friedrich, maybe...) might be taken, but you can certainly find out by looking at the character profiles on the wiki.

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