12-02-2009, 06:20 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player.:
Well, I usually play Neutral Good, or Lawful Good characters, as that's just been me 'schpiel.' And, honestly? It's easier to get by that way. Throwing in the odd Casa Nova-esque qualities also tends to help. Can't necessarily be the villain, tearing out hearts, and still be the Italian heart-throb, am I right? (Or can you? Heart-tearing.. throbbing.. Hmmm.) -Anyway-, I am the kind of player that looks for conflict. Yes, conflict. NOT drama. When I say conflict, I mean battles, political intrigue, effecting the world in a meaningful and sword-slashing way. (Not to say I don't like to chill-out as a farmer who doesn't now the back end from the front of a crossbow) I've always been frustrated that in the actual WoW, everything you do... doesn't effect the world. When I originally bought the game, it was my first MMO, and I had grand delusions of leading a crusading charge to Under City and retaking the place for the Alliance. I was severly dissapointed when I learned it wasn't possible. So... I just raided it. Repeatedly. Again. And again. But I digress. I come here seeking to join a cool RP community, where I can actually -do- something in the world.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
'M from 'Merica.
Florida to be exact.
My primary language is English, but I'm half Cuban, and do well with Spanish.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
Birthday present of a big, nasty green guy glaring at some dude was a pretty cool computer game. Followed by another big, green nasty guy with "III" near his head. I was just immersed in the RTSs and began to love it.
What made you seek our server over others?:
Ah.. ehh... See above?
I have a couple reasons, actually:
-First and foremost, I'm tired of the actual WoW, to an extent. I don't effect the world, as a whole. And what little I did, when our server established a political and judicial system and had various lore-accurate guilds, is gone now that said guilds have dissolved and some jack-a$$ Elven "prophet" is trying to ruin our little system of Government. : (
-Secondly, a friend of mine, Jeff, told me to try you out. He's also known as Silver.Templar on B.net. So.. Jeff's cool.
-I've generally heard you guys are pretty capable, and know what you're doing, in the realm of RP.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Aw, crap... See above, again?
I enjoy a myriad of roleplaying activites, be it story-telling in a tavern (but infrequently, PLEASE), battling and effecting the world, being a merchant in a (hopefully) crowded Harbor.
Really, my favorite RP involves action and adventure in far off, exotic lands, returning home, from time to time, for political intrigue and ladder-climbing. An apt description of the Crusades. Say.. What the fel? Why isn't there a Crusades MMO? Razzle frazzle.. mutter mutter...
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
My favorite race is the human (yeah, very prosaic and trite, I know) because, in my mind, they're the most diverse and interesting. You've got our tall, aryan, lordly Lordaeroners, you've got your wily, sailing Kul'Tirasi (coming from an island and dominating the seas. Britain much?), your gothic(not the fad, the architecture), rainy, dark German Gileans, your Canal-gondoleering, wine-making, cheese-selling Stormwinders, your neutral(traitorous), mountain-loving Alteracans, your intellectual and enlightened Dalaranians, and, finally, your brawny, blunt, and Troll-hating Highlanders (There can only be one.). It's all very fun.
My favorite class would have to be the paladin, without a doubt. I've never been able to get into any other class, really, past level 50, and ever since I slaughtered undead as a paladin in WCIII, I've loved the big hammer-wielding blokes.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I expect to be treated like royalty because I'm friggin aweso- I.. uhh.. mean...
I expect to have a lot of fun here, and weave myself into the tapestry of this roleplaying community. I have a few cool ideas I think I could implement, possibly involving the Cartel and Tanaris, and would love to get the opportunity.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Following the standards set by Blizz's lore. You all probably know how tiresome it is to be accosted by Cat-Girls and relatives of Kil'Jaeden across Stormwind. I even met someone named Barack Bin Saddam Al Hussein Ladinbama. Yeah. Fun.
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!:
>.> Do I.. do I have to? I'm under pressure.. hyper-ventilating.. pulling out my collar.. Did it just get really hot in here? Oh jeeze... Well, I could write my idea for an upcoming guild? It's a stretch, so bear with me, but completely lore-viable. I checked! Nothin' violated. Names are subject to change.
A man sits upon a large, Lordaeron destrier, upon a dune in the great desert of Tanaris. The mighty beast paws at the sand absently, and snorts, nostrils flaring wide, in anticipation. The man seated atop the horse is clad in steel plate, the heat most probably on the brink of unbearable, under the great golden disk of the Tanari sky. A tabard was upon his chest, black with a skull at its center, a wreath of laurels about the ivory-toned cranium, a great golden hammer behind the deathly head.
His helm is rounded behind, and angles at the front, forming a wide, slightly triangular shape, slits cut in the face for eyes, and holes poked into the cheeks, more on the right than on the left, for breathing. A shield is strapped to his left arm, embossed with the stylized "G" of Gilneas. A non-descript long-sword is sheathed at his side, in a black, filigreed tabard. Behind him are ten other knights, clad in the same stifling suits of armor, but through their helms, a fanatical conviction can be seen in the twinkle of their eyes.
The group overlooks what appears to be a small camp of Sand Trolls, the mottled-skinned monsters having recently captured a group Steamwheedle Goblins, a large package set to the side, apparently having been taken from the goblins. The trolls are clad mostly in functional loin-cloths or light robes, turbans upon the heads of some, to protect them from the sun, and spears or Tanari scimitars, taken from the Wastewanderers, in the hands of most.
The lead knight looks down upon the trolls and gives a grunt of disgust. He then turns to his knights. A slight nod is given from each. He then turns back to the trolls. With a shout of "Light wills it!" he kicks his heels into his charger's flanks and sets off down the hill, sand kicked up behind him, only to be followed by his warriors.
The trolls look up, surprised, and are caught in a dissaray, having been busy thinking up plans to feast upon their goblin catch. A small number of spear-wielding trolls are bashed into line by the leader, the only one dressed in a modicum of steel and leather armors, and carrying a large hatchet of sorts.
The Gilnean's blade catches one surprised troll in the neck, and a gout of crimson splashes his impeccable, steel suit, the troll falling to the ground, nigh' beheaded. His sword rises and falls again, cleaving a troll from nave to chaps. The templar's blade is like the reapers scythe, falling repeatedly and reaping the wheat that is troll life. "Down with the heathen tusked ones! Down with those that do not follow the Light, yet bathe in its glory! Take back what is ours, brothers!"
To an outsider, such a call was strange, but to the knights, reaping a bloody tally amid the chaos of troll bodies, such was familiar. All eyes were on the package.
At the urging of the troll leader, the spearband of sand trolls began to move forward, steel-tipped shafts being shaken angrily as they near those that are attacking their innocent, cannibalistic brethren. One Knight is unhorsed, multiple spear points punching through his cuirass. The Gilnean knights assemble, their number of ten quite small in such a line. But swords are extended, like lances, arms locked, and the horses charge into a wall of spear-points.
The lightly armored trolls are scattered by the barding-covered weight of the cavalry charge, and a blade takes the mohawked head of the tribal leader. With the fall of the chief, the band of Trolls disperses, and it is only the call of the knightly leader that stops the blood-lust from taking control of his comrades as they make to speed off, after the infidels. Instead, they turn to the goblins, and the package.
The leader dismounts and walks to the goblins, his voice eery and metalic behind his helmet,
"You are Fizbit Felsprocket?"
The Goblin looks up, eyes brightening at the sight of a non-tusked face, and a tabard he recognizes. "Why yes! Yes, I am! And you are those nice paladin fellows that were interested in the sun object, from the ruins?"
The Knight nods, stoic and silent, and releases the goblins, before stepping towards the package, Fizbit in tow.
"The price was two hundred gold sovereigns, aye?" asks the Knight.
"Yes," answers the Goblin. "That -was- the price. But after such troubles on our journey.. the delay.. the emotional stress. Well, I might just have to increase the price. Five hundred sovereigns, say?"
The Knight looks to the goblin. He is still helmetted, but a frown can be felt.
"I brought what was asked, not what was haggled. I do not have five hundred sovereigns."
"Then I suppose..." answers the goblin. "We'll just have to find a higher bidder, eh? In Gadgetzan?"
The Knight looks upon the goblin a moment, his eyes steely in the slits of his helmet. He sheathes his blade, and allows his beshielded left arm to rest at his side. He remains quiet, analyzing the goblin. Finally, he turns away.
"Brothers, kill him."
He steps to the package as the screams of the panic goblin pick up, and are abruptly silenced with the slice of steel into flesh. He kneels in the sand and unfolds the object with the tenderness with which one would treat an infant, lifting the leather flaps away gingerly. Inside is revealed a circular, golden object, stylized rays of filigreed sunlight drifting from the golden sun icon.
The man removes his helmet then, dropping it cranium-first in the sand, revealing a shock of blonde hair, his jaw and cheeks carrying the shadow of untended facial hair, his eyes a piercing cerulean, filled with religious fervour and determination.
This is a Templar. This is Gralus Hammervuist.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I'd like to make a guild involving searching Tanaris (a place of many ruins, Troll and Titan, as well as deserts, generally corresponding with sun worship) for ancient relics of the Light, such as sun idols or old icons. It may expand outside of Tanaris, should I get a large enough following, and it doesn't break lore!
Please consider me? Thank you.
Well, I usually play Neutral Good, or Lawful Good characters, as that's just been me 'schpiel.' And, honestly? It's easier to get by that way. Throwing in the odd Casa Nova-esque qualities also tends to help. Can't necessarily be the villain, tearing out hearts, and still be the Italian heart-throb, am I right? (Or can you? Heart-tearing.. throbbing.. Hmmm.) -Anyway-, I am the kind of player that looks for conflict. Yes, conflict. NOT drama. When I say conflict, I mean battles, political intrigue, effecting the world in a meaningful and sword-slashing way. (Not to say I don't like to chill-out as a farmer who doesn't now the back end from the front of a crossbow) I've always been frustrated that in the actual WoW, everything you do... doesn't effect the world. When I originally bought the game, it was my first MMO, and I had grand delusions of leading a crusading charge to Under City and retaking the place for the Alliance. I was severly dissapointed when I learned it wasn't possible. So... I just raided it. Repeatedly. Again. And again. But I digress. I come here seeking to join a cool RP community, where I can actually -do- something in the world.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
'M from 'Merica.
Florida to be exact.
My primary language is English, but I'm half Cuban, and do well with Spanish.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
Birthday present of a big, nasty green guy glaring at some dude was a pretty cool computer game. Followed by another big, green nasty guy with "III" near his head. I was just immersed in the RTSs and began to love it.
What made you seek our server over others?:
Ah.. ehh... See above?
I have a couple reasons, actually:
-First and foremost, I'm tired of the actual WoW, to an extent. I don't effect the world, as a whole. And what little I did, when our server established a political and judicial system and had various lore-accurate guilds, is gone now that said guilds have dissolved and some jack-a$$ Elven "prophet" is trying to ruin our little system of Government. : (
-Secondly, a friend of mine, Jeff, told me to try you out. He's also known as Silver.Templar on B.net. So.. Jeff's cool.
-I've generally heard you guys are pretty capable, and know what you're doing, in the realm of RP.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Aw, crap... See above, again?
I enjoy a myriad of roleplaying activites, be it story-telling in a tavern (but infrequently, PLEASE), battling and effecting the world, being a merchant in a (hopefully) crowded Harbor.
Really, my favorite RP involves action and adventure in far off, exotic lands, returning home, from time to time, for political intrigue and ladder-climbing. An apt description of the Crusades. Say.. What the fel? Why isn't there a Crusades MMO? Razzle frazzle.. mutter mutter...
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
My favorite race is the human (yeah, very prosaic and trite, I know) because, in my mind, they're the most diverse and interesting. You've got our tall, aryan, lordly Lordaeroners, you've got your wily, sailing Kul'Tirasi (coming from an island and dominating the seas. Britain much?), your gothic(not the fad, the architecture), rainy, dark German Gileans, your Canal-gondoleering, wine-making, cheese-selling Stormwinders, your neutral(traitorous), mountain-loving Alteracans, your intellectual and enlightened Dalaranians, and, finally, your brawny, blunt, and Troll-hating Highlanders (There can only be one.). It's all very fun.
My favorite class would have to be the paladin, without a doubt. I've never been able to get into any other class, really, past level 50, and ever since I slaughtered undead as a paladin in WCIII, I've loved the big hammer-wielding blokes.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I expect to be treated like royalty because I'm friggin aweso- I.. uhh.. mean...
I expect to have a lot of fun here, and weave myself into the tapestry of this roleplaying community. I have a few cool ideas I think I could implement, possibly involving the Cartel and Tanaris, and would love to get the opportunity.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Following the standards set by Blizz's lore. You all probably know how tiresome it is to be accosted by Cat-Girls and relatives of Kil'Jaeden across Stormwind. I even met someone named Barack Bin Saddam Al Hussein Ladinbama. Yeah. Fun.
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!:
>.> Do I.. do I have to? I'm under pressure.. hyper-ventilating.. pulling out my collar.. Did it just get really hot in here? Oh jeeze... Well, I could write my idea for an upcoming guild? It's a stretch, so bear with me, but completely lore-viable. I checked! Nothin' violated. Names are subject to change.
A man sits upon a large, Lordaeron destrier, upon a dune in the great desert of Tanaris. The mighty beast paws at the sand absently, and snorts, nostrils flaring wide, in anticipation. The man seated atop the horse is clad in steel plate, the heat most probably on the brink of unbearable, under the great golden disk of the Tanari sky. A tabard was upon his chest, black with a skull at its center, a wreath of laurels about the ivory-toned cranium, a great golden hammer behind the deathly head.
His helm is rounded behind, and angles at the front, forming a wide, slightly triangular shape, slits cut in the face for eyes, and holes poked into the cheeks, more on the right than on the left, for breathing. A shield is strapped to his left arm, embossed with the stylized "G" of Gilneas. A non-descript long-sword is sheathed at his side, in a black, filigreed tabard. Behind him are ten other knights, clad in the same stifling suits of armor, but through their helms, a fanatical conviction can be seen in the twinkle of their eyes.
The group overlooks what appears to be a small camp of Sand Trolls, the mottled-skinned monsters having recently captured a group Steamwheedle Goblins, a large package set to the side, apparently having been taken from the goblins. The trolls are clad mostly in functional loin-cloths or light robes, turbans upon the heads of some, to protect them from the sun, and spears or Tanari scimitars, taken from the Wastewanderers, in the hands of most.
The lead knight looks down upon the trolls and gives a grunt of disgust. He then turns to his knights. A slight nod is given from each. He then turns back to the trolls. With a shout of "Light wills it!" he kicks his heels into his charger's flanks and sets off down the hill, sand kicked up behind him, only to be followed by his warriors.
The trolls look up, surprised, and are caught in a dissaray, having been busy thinking up plans to feast upon their goblin catch. A small number of spear-wielding trolls are bashed into line by the leader, the only one dressed in a modicum of steel and leather armors, and carrying a large hatchet of sorts.
The Gilnean's blade catches one surprised troll in the neck, and a gout of crimson splashes his impeccable, steel suit, the troll falling to the ground, nigh' beheaded. His sword rises and falls again, cleaving a troll from nave to chaps. The templar's blade is like the reapers scythe, falling repeatedly and reaping the wheat that is troll life. "Down with the heathen tusked ones! Down with those that do not follow the Light, yet bathe in its glory! Take back what is ours, brothers!"
To an outsider, such a call was strange, but to the knights, reaping a bloody tally amid the chaos of troll bodies, such was familiar. All eyes were on the package.
At the urging of the troll leader, the spearband of sand trolls began to move forward, steel-tipped shafts being shaken angrily as they near those that are attacking their innocent, cannibalistic brethren. One Knight is unhorsed, multiple spear points punching through his cuirass. The Gilnean knights assemble, their number of ten quite small in such a line. But swords are extended, like lances, arms locked, and the horses charge into a wall of spear-points.
The lightly armored trolls are scattered by the barding-covered weight of the cavalry charge, and a blade takes the mohawked head of the tribal leader. With the fall of the chief, the band of Trolls disperses, and it is only the call of the knightly leader that stops the blood-lust from taking control of his comrades as they make to speed off, after the infidels. Instead, they turn to the goblins, and the package.
The leader dismounts and walks to the goblins, his voice eery and metalic behind his helmet,
"You are Fizbit Felsprocket?"
The Goblin looks up, eyes brightening at the sight of a non-tusked face, and a tabard he recognizes. "Why yes! Yes, I am! And you are those nice paladin fellows that were interested in the sun object, from the ruins?"
The Knight nods, stoic and silent, and releases the goblins, before stepping towards the package, Fizbit in tow.
"The price was two hundred gold sovereigns, aye?" asks the Knight.
"Yes," answers the Goblin. "That -was- the price. But after such troubles on our journey.. the delay.. the emotional stress. Well, I might just have to increase the price. Five hundred sovereigns, say?"
The Knight looks to the goblin. He is still helmetted, but a frown can be felt.
"I brought what was asked, not what was haggled. I do not have five hundred sovereigns."
"Then I suppose..." answers the goblin. "We'll just have to find a higher bidder, eh? In Gadgetzan?"
The Knight looks upon the goblin a moment, his eyes steely in the slits of his helmet. He sheathes his blade, and allows his beshielded left arm to rest at his side. He remains quiet, analyzing the goblin. Finally, he turns away.
"Brothers, kill him."
He steps to the package as the screams of the panic goblin pick up, and are abruptly silenced with the slice of steel into flesh. He kneels in the sand and unfolds the object with the tenderness with which one would treat an infant, lifting the leather flaps away gingerly. Inside is revealed a circular, golden object, stylized rays of filigreed sunlight drifting from the golden sun icon.
The man removes his helmet then, dropping it cranium-first in the sand, revealing a shock of blonde hair, his jaw and cheeks carrying the shadow of untended facial hair, his eyes a piercing cerulean, filled with religious fervour and determination.
This is a Templar. This is Gralus Hammervuist.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I'd like to make a guild involving searching Tanaris (a place of many ruins, Troll and Titan, as well as deserts, generally corresponding with sun worship) for ancient relics of the Light, such as sun idols or old icons. It may expand outside of Tanaris, should I get a large enough following, and it doesn't break lore!
Please consider me? Thank you.
). If you can work sun-worship somehow into Human lore, that's completely acceptable.