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Ixius! Who?
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:

Primarily, I'm all for common sense. That sounds bland, though, so I'd have to include that roleplay interests me centrally because it allows me to exercise my creativity and imagination, to explore new characters from inside their own heads, and to get together with other like-minded ladies and gentlemen who are interested in telling a story. Part of the fun of it, for me, is not crafting a story that everyone will step back and redefine their lives around, but to come up with something that genuinely matters to someone. As a player, the trend is that I'm quick to learn - communities I've been involved with in the past have always intrigued me with the variety and depth of their settings, and the World of Warcraft background is absolutely no different: it's expansive, it's impressive, and it's something I look forward to delving into in more detail. Age really matters very little on the internet, the great unifier, but I'm confident in being able to say that I've always been held as a mature, reliable player. I've roleplayed on almost every format under the sun; pen and paper, forum-based, WCIII, The Specialists roleplay and the Garry's Mod roleplaying scene and in more traditional, sitting-round-a-table based scenarios. I've roleplayed over IM clients and in MUDs, and of course in World of Warcraft private servers, in settings as restrictive as "modern day" to those as fantastical as Lord of the Rings, and from Star Wars to settings nobody will ever hear of, because I've been part of teams who try to come up with something new and interesting to roleplay around. I'm actually involved with a community doing this at the minute; we call ourselves Necropolis and we're trying to make a name for ourselves in the Garry's Mod roleplaying world, and before that I was involved with a community called Taco 'n' Banana as a lead administrator in their Half-Life universe roleplay. I'm nothing if not experienced as a roleplayer, though it's not for me to decide what that actually means to anyone else out there! In general, though, it's all about enjoyment and having fun, and I've always believed that you roleplay for other people as much as for yourself - people have to have fun! I know I will!

What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:

I'm Irish, though I've got quite a diverse record of places I've lived or visited. My primary language is English, and I adore it as one of the things that I'm genuinely good at. Language is the one thing everyone here will share (that, I suppose, and a love for roleplaying) - it's not something to be butchered or tossed aside, but individual differences in language are also one of the most interesting things about other people.

How did you get into Warcraft?:

Aeons ago, as a youngster, a friend of mine introduced me to Warcraft II. We played it over two computers connected by a LAN, and I loved it. Of course, this led to me eventually getting Warcraft III, which I played to death (the death of Archimonde, at least, hurr hurr), and then The Frozen Throne was released, and I was shown the light. The story it carried was intoxicating, and the flexibility of the game's multiplayer custom maps gave it endless replay value - even today, my friends and I will still hop on to the game. In terms of RTSes, it redefined the genre, and when Blizzard announced there would be an MMORPG, I was really drawn in. I played the WoW closed and open betas, and for a while after release, and still have an active subscription (to the US servers) at the minute. I've read novels based in the Warcraft universe, and find the whole franchise quite interesting indeed.

What made you seek our server over others?:

Aside from recommendations by friends, Conquest of the Horde seems to be amongst the most popular - and certainly appears to be one of the most dedicated - of the private roleplay-centred servers available. Add to that the evidently approachable-but-eliminative selection procedures you have, and there's certainly a good chance the resulting mix is going to be successful. The server's own items of lore, branching off from the main canon of the Warcraft universe, is also quite an attractive feature; from what I've seen, you've done it well, too. I want to become a member of Conquest of the Horde not only because it seems well-oiled and responsibly run, but because I also want to be found amongst the most diverse and highest standards of roleplayer in the wide-open WoW roleplaying world.

What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:

I'd be lying if I said I couldn't develop an interest in any form of roleplaying that I might run head-first into, because it's roleplaying itself I'm interested in: our characters, as real people within their world, might have a favourite situation they'd like to be part of, but there's no situation that they can't be roleplayed in: a player has to keep an open mind, in my opinion, because their characters might end up taking them to places they'd never expected to go, and might have them typing things they'd never thought they might type, all to portray their character as realistically as possible. Conflict - in both the verbal and the "real" sense - can always heighten the sense of dramatic tension in a roleplaying scene, but it's not my favourite. Moments where players are eager to read what others type will end up being my favourite sorts of roleplay, but nobody can predict what that might entail, and I'm not going to presume to try!

What is your favorite race/class? Why?:

I'm very cerebral, to back my decisions here up, so I've always had a soft spot for gnomes in the Warcraft world, and for any class which deals with magic or the forces arcane. Everyone feels the attraction to playing a human, because there's no race we understand so singularly as our own. Part of the intrigue behind Warcraft's worlds is that other races can be as diverse and compelling as can humans. Taurens, it is prescribed, are shamanistic and nature-worshipping - there's never been a statement that they can't become bloodthirsty savages, or that they won't fear to fight, or that they mightn't all be as "wise" as they seem. The point of trying out different races is usually to explore the diversity of their racial "restrictions" in a certain role. As to classes, there's nothing quite like introducing an element of the mysterious into your character - a mage or warlock can live or die based on what unpredictability they introduce to a scene, and a character who can shield others from harm with their mind, or light a candle with a click of their fingers, is always going to be a hit at a party. That's not to say there isn't something irrevocable charming about being a rogue - the name alone conjures up something extraordinary, and no class will more affect a character's personality than being someone who nobody ever trusts standing behind them. Hammer-wielding badasses fighting for their gods, paladins, are also pretty interesting concepts - to characterise the compassion of a cleric and the fury of a warrior is something that will lend flavour to any character. What I'm getting at here is that any class can be interesting, though I prefer the classes who intrinsically sit back and provide supporting fire.

What are your expectations of this server?:

I don't know what to expect, if I'm honest. My pre-formed opinions might have missed the mark by a mile, and I might join this to find something ridiculous and unfathomable, or something corrupt and unworkable. That's all part of the experience, though - the picture that is painted of CotH is that new players should expect roleplay to a serious level, and that they won't get away with constant lack of seriousness, or with disrespecting other players. Mainly, though, I expect to enjoy myself.

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

The first, really: respect. If they're broken down, all of the other rules could be filed under this one. The very fact of mutual storytelling is that players must have respect for each other (not, of course, that their characters must respect each other, because that would be quite a silly rule) - powergaming, out-of-character insults: all manner of things can be counted as breaches of the basic level of respect people should have for each other, so respect should be the one thing that everyone should hold for each other, and it should certainly be the first line of defense - along with communication and reasoning - for the server's staff.

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!:

This is an early draft of the backstory for the community with which I'm mainly involved these days, Necropolis. It sets up a world in which chaos runs rampant, and the infected portions of humanity outnumber the survivors to the point that they have no choice; humanity must fight for survival or succumb to what is nothing more than their own hubris; the virus which turns men, women and children into bloodthirsty, uncontrollable maniacs - some call them zombies, but the creatures don't care for names or titles: anyone with blood untouched by their virus is fair game. In the necropolis which New York City has become, as this story establishes, the last vestiges of the military are thrown into a city which has been cut off from the rest of the world, alongside anybody who has survived so far. Apologies if this seems impertinent, but I think it's a good piece, if I do say so myself, and it's one of the more reasonable I've written in terms of size. Enjoy!


It began with the Cold War.
Two nations, outstanding in the world for their military prowess and their presence as absolute world powers, reduced to bickering like children. On both sides - from the greatest political minds of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics to the cutting-edge pioneers of the United States of America - the most powerful of men looked through narrowed eyes at their brother; McCarthy in the West, conducting "witch hunts" and accusing his opponents of "un-Americanism" and of being Communist sympathisers. Spy networks such as Silvermaster in the East, scattering agents throughout other countries in an effort to counter attacks which never came. Even as the final fires of this never-present enmity died out, the USA turned her militaristic industries to wars in far-off lands, and the USSR was left to unemploy millions - Russia's economy faltered, where it had already been unsteady, and the country entered a period of financial crisis as the Cold War seemed to come to a close.

The Soviet Union needed help. Intervention, like fate, was unstoppable... And it changed everything.

The People's Republic of China, largely passive during the non-war which had gripped the world's greatest powers, stepped in as the Soviet Union stumbled. Brothers in socialism, China lent aid to Russia, and Russia took their assistance as pragmatically as possible. Where nothing but the embers of conflict still glowed between the USSR and the USA, China's aid allowed Russia to restart their economy in the only war a war-time government knew how: they began re-arming for war, and by 1991 the Soviet Union was on her way to rebuilding, with China's ever-present support shielding Russia's fragility.

As the Soviet Union which never failed begins to rebuild, unified with China in a seemingly impenetrable bond of socialism, the United States continue their peace-wars, and their economy flourishes, never having left the state of wartime overproduction which began during the escalation of the Cold War. Although the West knows that the East is beginning to show its head once again, arising as a threat on the horizon, the great forces of democracy seem too focused on dissolving the rules of third-world despots, with Allied forces sweeping across Africa in a fashion which leads to a great number of what are known as the "Minor Wars" - impasses develop in countries like Cameroon and Zimbabwe, where the dictators and their corrupt militaries can hold against the separated forces of the United States. These Minor Wars historically began with the Gulf War, and include events such as the 9/11 tragedy, in response to which, the United States carpet-bombed Iraq flat. Justified by the politicians as retaliatory attacks for the terrorist acts committed against the United States and their citizens, the Minor Wars officially begin after the indiscriminate bombings of many territories in the Middle-East, as a response to the threat of Al-Qaeda and the terrorist despot Saddam Hussein. It is believed that the millions of lives lost in these attacks of absolute destruction prevented the loss of just as many of America's citizens. The United States of America soon after declares itself the greatest world power, and its influence is seen in almost every other country in the western world.

Great minds speak out against these conflicts and atrocities, and debates rage on how the United States and their complimenting forces have no right to intervene in the affairs of other countries, let alone other continents, but they are ignored by the men who matter - the Presidents of the United States, the Prime Ministers of Great Britain, France, Germany and Italy - men who strive to elected positions, for power and for money rather than for justice and the good of their country. Mediators strive to highlight the rising threat in the East, and groups who support them develop and spread their influence throughout the western world, and the people of these countries begin to realise where the real problems of the future lie.

With the world in this state of conflict - the West all-powerful and the East regaining power at an ever-increasing rate, nineteen years pass.

2010 dawns, and now it is not only the great powers who involve themselves with their Cold War.
The United States of America and what might once have been known as the United Nations, but now has adopted the name of the Western Alliance exists in a state of anti-Communism, of what critics call "a crippling degree of conservatism". The Western Alliance is wealthy and powerful, and consider themselves the liberators of the world, though the Minor Wars still rage across Africa - they are led by the President of the United States, and elected head of the Western Alliance, Joseph Carter. The Soviet Union and China have formed the Coalition of Socialist Republics, and their under-the-covers cultural influence has slowly but definitely spread, so that at any point, the Coalition have many allies to call on. The Western Alliance has a populist hatred of Communism and the Coalition of Socialist Republics both, and many suspect that a war would begin if the Alliance forces were to withdraw from Africa. In an unsuspected analogue, the CSR fuels the dictators of Africa who hold out against Alliance forces - every so often, they even send forces to eradicate the last "taint" of Alliance presence in a country. Although the world doesn't know it, the war has already begun.

By June 12th, 2010, in Europe, this anti-Communism has grown to the point that the Western Alliance meets, and Joseph Carter argues furiously against the official declaration of war - on the same day, he speaks out to the American people, telling them that the Minor Wars are coming to a close and that they might soon enough find themselves within the throes of a global conflict: the Alliance against the Coalition.

President Carter finishes his speech on a single, powerful note: "America needs hope."

The next day, the Coalition's era of subtlety comes to an end. Though they have no central fighting force, the despots in Africa seem suddenly to have endless armies at their control. The Minor Wars become the focus of the world's press agencies, as seeming stalemates between Alliance forces and the militias of small-time dictators suddenly take a turn; now reports are filed almost constantly of the deaths of Americans, Britons, Spaniards, Germans, Frenchmen, Italians - even the Swiss had been brought around to involve themselves in these wars, and their death toll is no less brutal.

General Commander Rudyard Müller, the head of all military operations for the combined forces of the Western Alliance, speaks to the press on June 21st, 2010. In the thirty minutes of the meeting - all he can physically contribute to keeping the world informed - a tired, wasted man, barely recognisable as the charismatic and brilliant German who took command, lets the public know exactly what they feared. "In first reports, just over a week ago," Müller announces, "Military intelligence told us we fight a new enemy. The Minor Wars are no longer fought against guerilla militia forces, but against an enemy in uniform, trained and wearing an insignia the world will know." The General Commander indicates a screen behind the podium he stands on, and leaves the conference while a video plays - there is no sound, and the picture quality is lacking, but not one man in the audience is not absolutely stunned by what they see. In this video, an unidentified Alliance officer is seen bent over another man - obviously dead, and obviously not Alliance - and he turns and stands up, holding to the camera exactly what shakes the world: an armband, black, on which are the letters "CSR" and the insignia of the Coalition of Socialist Republics.

In the short, brutal conclusion to the Minor Wars, in which the Alliance military rapidly retreated back to their home countries to fortify against a coming assault, the western world trembles - every man, woman and child knows that the Western Alliance allowed the Coalition to sneak these soldiers into Africa without the barest trace, and every man, woman and child is waiting for when it will happen again. By the 30th of June, 2010, the Minor Wars are declared as finished, and all forces as withdrawn, by President Joseph Carter, in an announcement which historically marks the first true failure of the Western Alliance. Individual member-states of the Alliance begin to prepare for warfare, primarily focused on defending their own territory rather than striking out against the Coalition of Socialist Republics.

On the 1st of July, 2010, minutes after midnight GMT, the Coalition of Socialist Republics reveal their trump card. Predecessors on a much grander scale to the spy networks and operations like Silvermaster decades before them, the Coalition's militant groups reveal themselves - calling themselves the New World Order, the cells use military-grade technology to hijack radio and television transmissions across the western world, announcing that the Western Alliance has failed and that the Coalition and the New World Order will begin their rule as the true liberators of the world. Having spread and developed unknown, like a cancer across the globe, these cells took advantage of their surprise attack in the most malicious way possible... Gone were the days of backpack bombings and of the epoch of gun and knife.
Biological warfare became the weapon of destruction.

For two days the New World Order seemed to reign supreme, with cells in every state of America, in every major city of the world. They released highly advanced strains of the anthrax virus, which killed indiscriminately within minutes of first contact. The Coalition's main targets included the stock markets and military or police authority centres; Wall Street was declared an absolute no-go zone - it was lethal even to approach most cities.

Then came the Fourth of July. Independence Day, now celebrated across the western world. President Carter continued the announcements he had been broadcasting to the world with one that echoed his the month before, but no longer was it only America he addressed. "The world, now more than ever, needs hope - we need freedom. We need our independence..."

And, as the world watched, only a few men knew the true scope of what was about to happen.
Of what was about to go horribly wrong.

"And," Carter finished, "I will take back our independence."


On the Fourth of July, 2010, the world as we know it came to an end.

Screams echoed through the streets of cities the world over. New York, Washington, Miami, Moscow, St. Petersburg, London, Paris, Barcelona, Madrid, Berlin, Rome, Dublin, Canberra, Sydney, Brussels, Ottawa, Beijing, Tokyo, Cairo, Athens, Budapest, Amsterdam...

The world had been in the throes of bio-terrorist attack, but never had there been screams like this - most who were touched by the terrorists' virus died minutes later, and many cities retained some semblance of order, but now this order dissolved. Hospitals, many of which turned patients away in fear of the advanced anthrax of the New World Order, became absolutely overwhelmed. Reports which have survived events tell of men and women with wounded, necrotised flesh, many of whom found difficulty in breathing or simply collapsed, comatose, and were trampled by crowds trying to receive treatment.

Reports from the west coast of America had previously declared; NEW WORLD ORDER STILL AT LARGE, THREAT OF BIO WARFARE ATTACK. Twenty-four hours after President Carter's speech, there were no more reports.

Communication from cities around the world was lost, and those amongst the population who remained healthy so far had no idea what had happened - businessmen hoping to move their families out to a safer, country home on the 5th of July were scared as they turned on their televisions to find empty chairs and silent studios. On the internet, discussion forums and social networking sites were flooded with links to reports from the BBC - the United Kingdom's news sites all bore the headlines, NEW BIO ATTACK: COALITION OR SOMETHING ELSE?.

Twenty-eight hours after Carter's speech, on the 5th of July, 2010, every country around the world now echoed hauntingly similar messages...

اÃ㯬Âاء ÁÊ Ã…ÆازÄÇÃÂ… : غÊر Ã…عرÈÁ اÄÁÊرÈس اÄÅعدÉ
להתרחק חולה העם


By the time that the first riot begins, the surviving military forces have established cordons around major cities, preventing men and women from leaving the infection hot-spots. Local governments attempt to work out what has happened as all sense and society seems to collapse around them. Even in capitals of the Coalition of Socialist Republics, people are subject to this all-consuming virus, and word of this has spread across the internet - it wasn't the New World Order, then, who unleashed this hell upon the world.

Four hours later, riots claim the cities of the world, some of which spill over to consume even the military forces, leaving some soldiers to either renounce their uniform or be torn apart by a merciless public. All this time, the same messages blink across undamaged television screens and through radios as pre-recorded sound bites; NOBODY IS SAFE. Nothing new is shown or broadcast, an ever-present underscoring to the absolute chaos which consumes the cities of the world. Across the Western Alliance and the Coalition of Socialist Republics, men and women who do not submit to the will of the mob are chased out of town, murdered violently, or go into hiding. Zones placed under quarantine because of the New World Order's actions are broken into, through military blockades, and those who enter the zones die almost immediately from the anthrax. Many people with confirmed infection lead the way into these quarantine zones, attempting to end their lives quickly - as many describe death from this new infection to be endlessly painful. Those are not the only rumours surrounding deaths based on this new virus.

In Times Square, New York, a man stands alone amongst stationary cars and the flashing of advertisements. He holds a crudely painted picket sign.

At midnight on the 5th of July, 2010, President Joseph Carter addresses the United States and the Western Alliance through all available channels, stressing that cities should not panic at the outbreak of this new disease, that people should allow the military to take control and that the nation can recover from this. He claims the new disease is a variation of influenza.
The Coalition's Supreme Premier, Leonid Tarasov, does not address his people. He is infected.

Six hours after Carter's most recent address, most of the riots seem to have died out. Amongst the military organisations of the world, who have been instructed not to leave their posts at any cost, there is an unstoppable whispering which brings with it a gripping fear; rumours from other cities, ones who had been subjected to the new virus before theirs. Rank officers instruct their men to ignore hearsay and focus on the job at hand, and try to boost morale by suggesting that this will all be over soon.
Officers tell their men that their strength is enough.

Then, first in front of the barricades, where men and women trying to escape were shot dead by soldiers under orders, the corpses begin to stand up. Eyes which should have been closed forever open, and flesh which should have decayed animates. All throughout the world, the left-for-dead bodies of the infected clamber to their feet, and in small homes, mothers cry with joy as their children awake from the comas the infection left them in. The mothers love their children - they hug them and tell them that everything is going to be alright.
It is not enough.

City by city, the riots begin again. They have a new quality - absolute mindlessness. The riots are senselessly violent, now, and the rioters throw themselves ceaselessly at the military cordons, so much that the soldiers have no choice but to pick up their weapons and open fire, killing dozens upon dozens of men, women and children as they run for the barricades. The soldiers have enough ammunition to last them for at least three days of warfare, but this is not the type of fighting they are used to - people scream like animals as they charge for the barricades, blood and dirt on their torn clothing, and in some cities they form a ramp of dead flesh, enough for the endless hordes to charge over the walls and into the military's ranks - they claw and bite, more like animals than humans. They can't be reasoned with. Soldiers keep firing, and body upon body falls to the ground.
It is not enough.

An elderly couple, married for fifty years, pick themselves up from the ground and approach a military barricade for a second time. They are warned to turn back three times, as the soldiers had been ordered, and then they are shot dead. One soldier, absolutely terrified by what he alone seems to have noticed, says, "That's the second time we've killed those two." His comrades take the bodies inside, and the doctors are unable to explain why no blood is coming from the new bulletholes. A field autopsy is performed, and the infected flesh of the old couple is jokingly passed to the chef, in a sick game of "pass the parcel". He washes his hands before preparing a meal for the garrison.
It is not enough.

Small pockets of survivors manage to hole themselves up on the upper stories of buildings, or in basements. Some are alone - shopkeepers who sacrifice their stock to board up doors and windows, who are smart enough to extinguish lights and unplug telephones - families who immigrated and who cannot afford to lose the house they finally paid off the mortgage for. Groups of friends, who had either been forced together by chance or who knew each other before the attacks started, pool their resources and share their skills, hoping that their intuition and wit might be enough to see them through whatever is happening. Doctors trapped in their offices desperately call their loved ones, getting no answer, as their secretaries or nurses claw mindlessly at the windows. The world over, men and women gather together, hoping that luck and the need to survive will see them through the insanity - people hold faith that their humanity will keep them alive.
It might be enough.


Seven days pass. During these seven days, many of these pockets of survivors are discovered by newly dispatched military death squads, and either mistakenly slaughtered or taken to safety in new population centres based in military fortresses. Many more survivors can't face not knowing what is happening, and reveal themselves to what has been roaming the streets - they die for a short time, and then they rise again. Soldiers nickname what they're fighting, calling them "zombies" or "the infected", and the names stick.

It is the 12th of July, 2010. In New York City, some survivors of the viral holocaust find they can leave their homes for the first time in a week or more, and most wish they hadn't - the streets are littered with corpses, and in the distance, the screaming still continues. Small bands of survivors decide they can't stay put, or that they have to fight to survive, and leave their safehouses, encountering others and sharing stories. Word spreads through these traveling survivors that the infected are to be killed on sight, and that escape from New York is impossible - some time during the previous week, the bridges were destroyed, and groups of survivors who try to swim are either carried away by currents, or are shot by the military on overwatch. Those who survived this massive tragedy may not be aware entirely of what has happened, or what they have to do now, but there is one instinct that drives them: survival.
In the killing fields of New York, they are left with that simple choice: survive or die.

Survivors who run into others have many stories - theories or speculation on how the virus spread, or what exactly led to the insanity that the world has become. Arguments break out over simple things like these theories, or over a bottle of Coke or a round of buckshot, but there is one thing that the survivors can agree on.

There is one story which has yet to be told.

Necropolis, they will call it. The City of the Dead.

Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:

Nope! Nothing other than that I sincerely hope I'll enjoy myself here, and that there's nothing more I can do now than get onto the server and get roleplaying!
To say that I like you would be an abominable understatement.

Welcome to CotH. I'd say "ask me if you have any questions," but I get the feeling you'll be able to work everything out for yourself.

[Image: lichkingfell.png]
I was going to post here and say that you are amazing but I chickened out.

Moose said what I was going to nicely.

Move him into the sun—
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields half-sown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.

Think how it wakes the seeds,—
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides,
Full-nerved—still warm—too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
—O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth’s sleep at all?
[Image: 62675bf4fd.jpg] [Image: 0e7357dcfe.jpg]
Ixius! Welcome to Coth my friend. I was expecting a excellent post from you but damn. It was nice to read the Necropolis story especially since it's not released yet. I look forward to RPing with on the server.
[Image: classic-76561197997915481.png]

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