Conquest of the Horde - Araul`s Introduction

First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player.:
Well I've always been big on RP since I was little and its just something that has always been with me. I usually go for the rogue kind of style where you get in and out of places without ever being known. And it just gives me thrill knowing people around you don't realize you're there until it's to late.

What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
I am from the United States and English is primary language. Though I can speak German but only a small portion.

How did you get into Warcraft?:
I got into Warcraft back when I first got a computer and Internet. I had played numerous other games but after a short while they started to lose my interest. And my friends had always told me that I needed to go out and buy WoW so I could play with them. After seeing them play it and looking at how much detail and time Blizzard had put into the game I decided to give it a try. Within the first hour of playing I was enjoying myself way more than I had with any other game I had played in the past. I had not a clue what I was doing but it was enjoyable. And the enjoyment just continued to grow and grow overtime and the past three years that I've played I still find it to be quite fun.

What made you seek our server over others?:
I had played multiple private servers in the past and they were all just the same. Except one which got me hooked on RPing in WoW. It was different from all the others where they just care about PvP. But sadly that server turned into like all the others and the RP experience died. Coming along your site I can tell that this server is dedicated to RP, and that there are others like me that wont fill ridiculed and can enjoy the same experience with each other.

What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I enjoy a great amount of RP but I would have to say my favorite is the mercenary style or being stealthy and spying on an enemy to gather information or to kill them as an assassination.

What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I would say my favorite race for the horde would be either Blood Elf or Undead. Mostly because the Blood Elf physique supported my style of play. They weren't too bulky or skinny or too small or big. Plus the male laughter was the icing on the cake. Just wish their dance was better...

And the Undead are another one of my favorites because I enjoy being them as a rogue. They just suite the rogue style so well plus I love their lore.

What are your expectations of this server?:
I'm expecting to be in a place where people love to RP as much as I do, where you can escape and turn your imagination into reality (somewhat). Where everyone respects one another and to just have a really good time.

Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Well as stated above Respect is one of them. Its hard to play and get your mind straight when you have another person being disrespectful and ruining it for everyone.

Maturity is another. Too many times I've RPed with someone who showed no signs or maturity and clear a room of people in a second and destroy everyone's fun.

Godmoding especially. I hate these people where they have to make their character who is all powerful and nothing phases them but yet they can do whatever they like to you. It just kills any RP for me.

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 mostly a story of my character when he was younger...

The candle was lit, and the thief was standing there, blinking, caught. He was young, rather dirty, wearing ragged black clothes that were surely quite smart and expensive weeks ago when he had stolen them from one of the city's best tailors. The look of surprise slipped from his face, and he took on a blank expression as he put the gold back on the table.

"What are you doing here?" the man with the candle asked, stepping from the shadows.

"That's a stupid question," the boy replied, frowning. "I'm obviously robbing you."

"Since nothing I have is missing," the man smiled, glancing at the gold on the table. "I would have to say that you're not robbing me. Attempting to rob me perhaps. The question I have is, why? You know who I am, I assume. You didn't just come in through an unlocked door."

"I've stolen from everyone else. I've taken sacred scrolls from some of the most prestigious spell casters in the land, I've robbed the treasury of the most secure fortresses, I cheated the Archbishop, I even pickpocketed a King at his coronation. I simply thought it was your turn."

"I'm flattered," the man nodded. "Now that your ambition has been thwarted, what will you do? Flee? Perhaps retire?"

"Teach me," the boy replied, a little grin finding its way unconsciously on his face. "I picked all your locks, I slipped past all your wards. You designed them, you know how difficult that was for someone without training. I didn't come here for six gold pieces. I came here to prove myself. Make me your student."

The Master of Stealth looked at the rogue boy. "Your skill is not in need of training. Your planning is adequate, but I can help you with that. What is without hope is your ambition. You are past stealing for your livelihood, now you steal for the pleasure of it, for the challenge. That's a personality trait which is incurable, and will lead you to an early grave."

"Haven't you ever wanted to steal that which can't be stolen?" the boy asked. "Something that would make your name known forever?"

The Master did not answer: he only frowned.

"Clearly I was fooled by your reputation," he shrugged, and opened a window. "I thought you might want a willing accomplice on some great act of thievery which would go down in history. Like you said, my skill at planning is only adequate. I didn't have in mind an escape route, but this will have to do."

The burglar slipped down the sheer wall, dashed across the shadowy courtyard, and within a few minutes was back at his room in the run-down tavern. The Master was waiting for him there, in the dark.

"I didn't see you go past me," he said almost stunned.

"You turned on the street when you heard the owl call," he replied. "The most important tool in the thieves' repertoire is distraction, either planned or improvised. I suppose your lessons have begun."

"And what is the final test?" the boy smiled.

When he told him, he could only stare. He had, it seemed, not misunderstood his reputation for daring. Not at all.

For weeks the skies above Azeroth were dark and alive as clouds of crows blotted out the sun. Their guttural squawks and groans deafened all. The peasants wisely bolted their doors and windows, praying for survival that most unholy of days.

On the night of the summoning, the birds fell silent; their black unblinking eyes following the warlocks' and witches' march into the glen. There were no moons to light the way, only the leader's single torch in the gloom. Their white robes appeared as indistinct shapes, like the faintest of ghosts.

A single tall tree stood in the middle of the clearing, every branch thick with crows, watching the procession without moving. The lead warlock placed the torch at the base of the tree, and his seventeen followers formed a circle. One walked forward and placed a corpse of a young adult male in the center beside the torch then returned to his place. They began their slow, strange, wailing chant.

As they sang, the glow of the torch began to change. It did not diminish at all, but its color became more and more gray, so it seemed a pulsating wave of ash had fallen on the group. Then it grew darker still, so that for a moment, though the fire yet burned, it was darkest night in the forest. The penumbra continued until the torch was burning with a color without a name, emptiness beyond mere blackness. It cast a glow, but it was an unnatural scintillation falling on the dark figures. Their robes of white became black. The flesh of the black men among them turned ivory white flesh. The white appeared black as coal. The crows watching overhead were as pure white as the seer's cloaks.

The body in the center burst into the empty flames. A Dreadlord stepped out of the pit of uncolors, and coldness fell upon the area.

He stood in the center of the circle, the tree of pallid crows his throne, aloof, as the witches continued their chanting. Wrapping his night cloak around him, he smiled at their song. It spoke of hid mystery, of veiled justice and vengeance, of eternal shadows and a divine future when the sun burns no more.

The Dreadlord let his cloak slide from his shoulders and the cold grew deeper. His servants did not raise their heads, but continued their hymn of darkness.

"Now," said the boy said to himself.

He had been up in the tree all day, dressed in a ridiculous suit of mock crows. It was uncomfortable, but when the warlocks and witches had arrived, he forgot all his aches, and concentrated on being perfectly still, like the other crows in the tree. It had taken considerable planning and study between him and the Master of Stealth to find the glen, and to learn what to expect in the summoning of a Dreadlord.

Gently, silently, the burglar eased himself down the branches of the tree, coming closer and closer to the Dreadlord. He let himself break concentration for just a moment, and wondered where the Master was. He had been confident in the plan. He said that when the Dreadlord dropped his cloak, there would be a distraction, and it could be quickly taken in that instant provided the rogue was in position at the precise right moment.

The boy climbed along the lowest of the branches, carefully pushing aside the crows that were, as the Master said, transfixed by the in his cold power. The boy was now close enough, if he only reached out his arm, to touch the Dreadlord's back.

The song was rising to a crescendo, and the boy knew that the ceremony would soon be over. The Dreadlord would re-don his cloak and return to the darkness. The boy gripped the tree branch tightly as his mind raced. Could it be that the Master was not here at all? Was this; was this conceivably the entire test? Was it only to show that it could be done, not to do it?

The boy was furious. He had done everything perfectly, but the so-called Master of Stealth had proven himself a coward. Perhaps he had taught him a little in the months that it took to plan this, but what was it worth? Only one thing made him smile. On that night when he had stolen into his stronghold, he had kept one single gold piece, and he had never suspected it. It was symbolic, as symbolic as stealing the cloak of a Dreadlord in its way, proving that the Master Thief could be robbed.

The boy was so lost in his mind that he thought he imagined it for a moment when a man's familiar voice yelled out from the darkness, "Lord!"

The next words he knew he didn't imagine: "Lord! A thief! Behind you!"

The followers raised their heads, and screamed, ruining the sanctity of the ceremony, as they charged forward. The crows awoke and burst from the tree in an explosion of feathers and shrill cries. The Dreadlord himself whirled around, affixing the boy with his black stare.

"You dare trespass on this ritual?" The dreadlord roared, as the cold, pitch darkness flew from his body enveloping the boy in their lethal chill.

In the last instant before he was swallowed alive by darkness, the boy looked to the ground and saw that the cloak was gone, he instantly let loose five small bombs that emitted a bright light to the ground and quickly sprinted away. From a great distance he could hear the Dreadlord's dark voice yelling Ã¢Â€ÂœFind that boy and bring him to me at once. Failure will result in your death.Ã¢Â€Â The boy continued to run confused as to what happened until he answered, as he now understood, "Oh, who am I? I'm the distraction..Ã¢Â€Â

Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Not at this moment.