09-28-2009, 04:19 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
Let's see. I'm a physics graduate student in the USA, working part-time at a small computer shop near home. Been into videogames since I can remember, as well as music and creative writing.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
English was not my first language but I learned it very early and have used it as a primary tongue since before I attended school, so I'm perfectly comfortable with it. I also speak Romanian and Vlax.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I had a roommate that played it heavily for a while, and when he lost interest I picked it up, and discovered that it wasn't the silliness I thought it was. I played for some time on an RP-PvP server and loved it. It's been a long time since I quit, been looking to hop back in.
What made you seek our server over others?:
In the world of private servers there's just too much silliness and silly people, and this place seemed well-rounded, intelligent, friendly and fun.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Spontaneous adventure is something I used to promote when I played on other servers. "Hey everyone, why are we sitting in this tavern when we could be taking a boat ride, flying through the Nether and looking at dragons, or knocking on the gates of Stormwind to see who wants to come and play?" Not that I mind hanging around in the tavern sometimes too, of course. Variety is the true spice of RP.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Humans/Undead. Their shared lore is probably what I like most about them, and most of the Warcraft universe in general, and I also enjoy the lore involving the Night Elves and the Highbourne.
What are your expectations of this server?:
[i]Quality roleplay, professional and friendly attitudes, and a lot of fun.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Gotta say it's the mutual respect. Most people call this an 'unwritten rule', but at least when it's written down, something real can be done about it being broken.
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!:
Um, um, um! Let me fish you out an old RP story of mine. If you don't like it I have others.
It's first-person perspective from my old Blood Elf Priestess.
-------------------------------------------
I don't take to heat well. When the sun that's usually such a welcome sight in Northrend bears down upon you, turning each grain of sand into a tiny mirror reflecting heat and searing light all around-- well, I have no idea how anyone can stand it.
It's just after the Fire Festival and I'm standing in line for the only functional waterpump in the Steamwheedle Port right now, watching the goblin engineers sweat and suffer in the afternoon heat, carrying parts, schematics, yelling at one another, trying to get the other three working again. The troll at the station has been drinking from the falling water directly for some time now, and the Dwarvish Paladin behind him isn't looking entirely pleased about it, standing there in his heavy plate mail, leading an equally-miserable looking Charger. Behind them, a tall Kal'dorei in the trappings of a druid tries to look like he's keeping his composure, but occasionally lets forth a troubled, long sigh and wipes the sweat from his brow.
I've been standing at least ten minutes, and as the Paladin ahead finally loses it and breaks into angry-sounding (then again, to me, it always sounds angry) Dwarvish, I look at the little purple bottle in my hand, staring back at the drawing of a smiling goblin face that looks out at me from the label, wondering if I should just wait until later. I bounce the empty bucket off my knee gently, impatient. The troll scrambles off, holding his hands up in surrender to the irked Paladin, who then begins to fill what seems to be the first of an infinite number of buckets and skins. The line moves a single pace forward.
Guaranteed to HARMLESSLY remove any and all hair dyes.
I feel eyes on me, and look up to see the frowning Druid looking over his shoulder at me. He's got a handsome face, and I turn a little red before I realize that my bucket fidgeting is hitting him in the back of the leg. I switch both hands behind my back, looking around innocently, bashfully, and I steal another glance to see him sigh wearily, turning forward again. It's hard to hold back my urge to snicker.
The Paladin is only about halfway through, and I'm bored, which is never a good thing. I bring the bucket around front again, now intentionally tapping the Druid a couple of times before swinging it back around behind me. He gives me quite the look this time, one full of knowing, one that reads, ‘you've got to be kidding me, lady'. I smile back, shifting my shoulders girlishly. I hear a sigh, heavier than any he'd uttered before, so of course, I do it again, looking him right in the eye as I do. He looks to the sky, muttering something in Darnassian which I, straining my ears, understand to be something akin to, “Elune give me strength.â€Â
After a few more of my attempts to irritate him the Paladin finishes, and he and his armored horse stomp off towards some shade to doubtless have a very long drink. The Kal'dorei stoops in front of the pump, presents only a meager-sized skin, at best, and it's filled in seconds. I'm about to move forward when he, not giving up his claim to the pump just yet, proceeds to chug down the entirety of the skin, and fills it again. This goes on two more times, and he takes a break after the second one to shoot me a smirk-- yep, just as I thought, just trying to irritate me, aren't you. On his third drink I ‘stumble' forward, smacking my knee firmly against his back, and some of his precious water goes down the wrong tube.
“Oops!†I exclaim, watching the Druid cough and sputter, trying to set himself to rights. He glares at me, fully peeved now, and the Bruisers watching over the pump tense, awaiting possible conflict. He turns his nose up. Of course. He doesn't want to start a fight here, it'd make his whole order look bad, or his people, or something of that nonsense. One last time he fills the skin, and shoots me a look that will definitely be making me think twice about leaving the settlement with my guard down, only made darker when I blow him a little kiss as he walks toward the shade.
At long last, I fill my large bucket with water, and stagger over to the seashore.
I wet the hair first, moderately, with seawater, saving the fresh water for the rinse to prevent salt from caking in my hair later. The stuff in the bottle is warm and goopy in my hands, and as I begin to rub it in, the white foam turns a deep black. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if that would be what my sins looked like if they could physically manifest-- black foam that leaves dark stains on the sand it drips on. I add more water, more of the purple goop. More of the foam falls to the sands, staining it, some of it getting washed away and making dark tendrils appear in the receding waves. I keep on adding, keep on scrubbing, but the darkness doesn't lighten up for a very long time.
I crawl to the sea and let a few incoming waves wash the majority of it out, and start over, and to my surprise, rather than black, the foam is only coming out a mild grey. I wish my sins could be washed away this easily... with lots of scrubbing. It's satisfying to see all the darkness leaving, and by the time I'm at the bottom of the bottle, the foam is white as a lamb. I turn the bucket of fresh water upside-down over my head and look up to see nothing but brilliant copper strands hanging over my face now.
A rolling growl rocks earth and sky, and the sunlight shining on my hair vanishes. Clouds gather. A midsummer storm is starting. I look at my hands-- they are as grey as the clouds now, stained from the work of washing the darkness out of my hair, and sigh. The bottle isn't quite empty, and I squeeze out the last drops onto my palms, hoping it will work. Drops of water began to plummet to the ground around me, and the splotches of black on the sand around me begin to bleed, the darkness fleeing toward the ocean. Rainwater and foam lather up my hands in thick grey, then the rain takes over, peeling the foam away to reveal pale and untarnished skin.
A swift cat runs by me, halting itself as it passes, and looks over its shoulder at me. With a flurry of green energy, it's quickly replaced by the tall, imposing form of the druid from before, and he approaches me. I look behind. We're too far from the port for the goblins to be of much help, and I steel myself, preparing to fight for my life in the pouring rain.
Then, the unexpected. “You need find shelter,†the Orcish is poor, but kindly-toned. I merely blink. “Summer storms dangerous.†He smiles. Then it dawns on me.
He doesn't recognize me. But rather than wanting to fix it-- I'm grateful. We'd gotten off to a poor start, although it was pretty damned funny, and here I was being handed a chance to renew his impression of me.
“Thanks,†I reply in Darnassian, which seems to surprise him albeit pleasantly. “Elune keep you safe.â€Â
“And you.â€Â
He heads off his own way and I head back toward the port, feeling ready for the first time in ages to go home.
-------------------------------------------
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I apologize if there's anything amiss, and if I DO need to clarify anything I'd be happy to.
Let's see. I'm a physics graduate student in the USA, working part-time at a small computer shop near home. Been into videogames since I can remember, as well as music and creative writing.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
English was not my first language but I learned it very early and have used it as a primary tongue since before I attended school, so I'm perfectly comfortable with it. I also speak Romanian and Vlax.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I had a roommate that played it heavily for a while, and when he lost interest I picked it up, and discovered that it wasn't the silliness I thought it was. I played for some time on an RP-PvP server and loved it. It's been a long time since I quit, been looking to hop back in.
What made you seek our server over others?:
In the world of private servers there's just too much silliness and silly people, and this place seemed well-rounded, intelligent, friendly and fun.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Spontaneous adventure is something I used to promote when I played on other servers. "Hey everyone, why are we sitting in this tavern when we could be taking a boat ride, flying through the Nether and looking at dragons, or knocking on the gates of Stormwind to see who wants to come and play?" Not that I mind hanging around in the tavern sometimes too, of course. Variety is the true spice of RP.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Humans/Undead. Their shared lore is probably what I like most about them, and most of the Warcraft universe in general, and I also enjoy the lore involving the Night Elves and the Highbourne.
What are your expectations of this server?:
[i]Quality roleplay, professional and friendly attitudes, and a lot of fun.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Gotta say it's the mutual respect. Most people call this an 'unwritten rule', but at least when it's written down, something real can be done about it being broken.
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!:
Um, um, um! Let me fish you out an old RP story of mine. If you don't like it I have others.
It's first-person perspective from my old Blood Elf Priestess.
-------------------------------------------
I don't take to heat well. When the sun that's usually such a welcome sight in Northrend bears down upon you, turning each grain of sand into a tiny mirror reflecting heat and searing light all around-- well, I have no idea how anyone can stand it.
It's just after the Fire Festival and I'm standing in line for the only functional waterpump in the Steamwheedle Port right now, watching the goblin engineers sweat and suffer in the afternoon heat, carrying parts, schematics, yelling at one another, trying to get the other three working again. The troll at the station has been drinking from the falling water directly for some time now, and the Dwarvish Paladin behind him isn't looking entirely pleased about it, standing there in his heavy plate mail, leading an equally-miserable looking Charger. Behind them, a tall Kal'dorei in the trappings of a druid tries to look like he's keeping his composure, but occasionally lets forth a troubled, long sigh and wipes the sweat from his brow.
I've been standing at least ten minutes, and as the Paladin ahead finally loses it and breaks into angry-sounding (then again, to me, it always sounds angry) Dwarvish, I look at the little purple bottle in my hand, staring back at the drawing of a smiling goblin face that looks out at me from the label, wondering if I should just wait until later. I bounce the empty bucket off my knee gently, impatient. The troll scrambles off, holding his hands up in surrender to the irked Paladin, who then begins to fill what seems to be the first of an infinite number of buckets and skins. The line moves a single pace forward.
Guaranteed to HARMLESSLY remove any and all hair dyes.
I feel eyes on me, and look up to see the frowning Druid looking over his shoulder at me. He's got a handsome face, and I turn a little red before I realize that my bucket fidgeting is hitting him in the back of the leg. I switch both hands behind my back, looking around innocently, bashfully, and I steal another glance to see him sigh wearily, turning forward again. It's hard to hold back my urge to snicker.
The Paladin is only about halfway through, and I'm bored, which is never a good thing. I bring the bucket around front again, now intentionally tapping the Druid a couple of times before swinging it back around behind me. He gives me quite the look this time, one full of knowing, one that reads, ‘you've got to be kidding me, lady'. I smile back, shifting my shoulders girlishly. I hear a sigh, heavier than any he'd uttered before, so of course, I do it again, looking him right in the eye as I do. He looks to the sky, muttering something in Darnassian which I, straining my ears, understand to be something akin to, “Elune give me strength.â€Â
After a few more of my attempts to irritate him the Paladin finishes, and he and his armored horse stomp off towards some shade to doubtless have a very long drink. The Kal'dorei stoops in front of the pump, presents only a meager-sized skin, at best, and it's filled in seconds. I'm about to move forward when he, not giving up his claim to the pump just yet, proceeds to chug down the entirety of the skin, and fills it again. This goes on two more times, and he takes a break after the second one to shoot me a smirk-- yep, just as I thought, just trying to irritate me, aren't you. On his third drink I ‘stumble' forward, smacking my knee firmly against his back, and some of his precious water goes down the wrong tube.
“Oops!†I exclaim, watching the Druid cough and sputter, trying to set himself to rights. He glares at me, fully peeved now, and the Bruisers watching over the pump tense, awaiting possible conflict. He turns his nose up. Of course. He doesn't want to start a fight here, it'd make his whole order look bad, or his people, or something of that nonsense. One last time he fills the skin, and shoots me a look that will definitely be making me think twice about leaving the settlement with my guard down, only made darker when I blow him a little kiss as he walks toward the shade.
At long last, I fill my large bucket with water, and stagger over to the seashore.
I wet the hair first, moderately, with seawater, saving the fresh water for the rinse to prevent salt from caking in my hair later. The stuff in the bottle is warm and goopy in my hands, and as I begin to rub it in, the white foam turns a deep black. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if that would be what my sins looked like if they could physically manifest-- black foam that leaves dark stains on the sand it drips on. I add more water, more of the purple goop. More of the foam falls to the sands, staining it, some of it getting washed away and making dark tendrils appear in the receding waves. I keep on adding, keep on scrubbing, but the darkness doesn't lighten up for a very long time.
I crawl to the sea and let a few incoming waves wash the majority of it out, and start over, and to my surprise, rather than black, the foam is only coming out a mild grey. I wish my sins could be washed away this easily... with lots of scrubbing. It's satisfying to see all the darkness leaving, and by the time I'm at the bottom of the bottle, the foam is white as a lamb. I turn the bucket of fresh water upside-down over my head and look up to see nothing but brilliant copper strands hanging over my face now.
A rolling growl rocks earth and sky, and the sunlight shining on my hair vanishes. Clouds gather. A midsummer storm is starting. I look at my hands-- they are as grey as the clouds now, stained from the work of washing the darkness out of my hair, and sigh. The bottle isn't quite empty, and I squeeze out the last drops onto my palms, hoping it will work. Drops of water began to plummet to the ground around me, and the splotches of black on the sand around me begin to bleed, the darkness fleeing toward the ocean. Rainwater and foam lather up my hands in thick grey, then the rain takes over, peeling the foam away to reveal pale and untarnished skin.
A swift cat runs by me, halting itself as it passes, and looks over its shoulder at me. With a flurry of green energy, it's quickly replaced by the tall, imposing form of the druid from before, and he approaches me. I look behind. We're too far from the port for the goblins to be of much help, and I steel myself, preparing to fight for my life in the pouring rain.
Then, the unexpected. “You need find shelter,†the Orcish is poor, but kindly-toned. I merely blink. “Summer storms dangerous.†He smiles. Then it dawns on me.
He doesn't recognize me. But rather than wanting to fix it-- I'm grateful. We'd gotten off to a poor start, although it was pretty damned funny, and here I was being handed a chance to renew his impression of me.
“Thanks,†I reply in Darnassian, which seems to surprise him albeit pleasantly. “Elune keep you safe.â€Â
“And you.â€Â
He heads off his own way and I head back toward the port, feeling ready for the first time in ages to go home.
-------------------------------------------
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I apologize if there's anything amiss, and if I DO need to clarify anything I'd be happy to.