06-23-2010, 03:26 AM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player.:
Ello! My name is Samantha and I first was introduced to roleplaying by means of D&D, which grew to online text-based rp, and PC gaming. I spent a lot of time on Everquest, Neverwinter Nights, a bit of Guild Wars, but I've been playing WoW since beta back in 2004. I played both strictly PvE, and PvPRP servers having reached end game on the PvE aspect in BC, I spent more of my time on the RP servers. I was an active member of 3 separate retail servers until I quit retail in December of 2009. I do play on a Blizzlike PvP server currently but my interest in it is slowly dying due to the fact my friends are leaving and no one is interested in roleplaying at all. I've researched many private servers that offer the roleplaying experience and I think I've finally found a place that would suit my needs and tastes for what roleplaying is about.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
I hail from the United States and as such, my primary language is English. I do also "speak" Sign Language, but one can only assume that is not needed nor would be considered here. -smirks-
How did you get into Warcraft?:
Having always been a Blizzard fan, I played Starcraft and Warcraft, so obviously I was interested in World of Warcraft. I was accepted into the WoW beta, and soon after began playing with a group of friends I lived with at the time. We created our guild on the server Medivh and soon grew to a guild of over 400 active players.
What made you seek our server over others? (or How did you find us?):
Your server seemed to have the most "mature" community, and the fact that one must post an introduction before being introduced to the community was a bonus for me. More often than not I would find myself logging into another server only to see random players running about in the nude and using such terms as LOL and OMG in /say. I can say I look forward to joining the community and becoming an active member.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I enjoy all kinds aspects the the roleplaying experience, and in consideration of the history of Warcraft, I believe not all role-play can be relaxed and thus I prefer a mix of such. I do like to lounge about the taverns and have a few drinks with my friends, but I also love the action of heated, bloodied battles between horde and alliance. Besides that, my mood is what determines the kind of roleplaying I'd like to do on any given night, whether it be having a few rounds of brew with friends and strangers, or a more intimate atmosphere with close friends/family.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
For myself, I do prefer the Blood Elf. Not for beauty, but for attitude and personality. Everyone has that favorite "type" of character they absolutely love to play, and I feel, out of all the races, the Blood Elf best suits my characters demeanor. As for class, I am a rogue. Period. I've played a rogue since beta, I know the class, I love the class, I am the class, and as stated above, it fits my characters personality perfectly.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I have very high expectations of this server and have no doubt they will all be met. I've perused the forums and have had nothing but good thoughts about this server. As I said, I am excited to play here and hope that you, as a community except me.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
"All players on this server are expected to be familiar with the history of Azeroth." Thumbs up on this rule. Too often, even on retail, I ran into vampiric Blood Elves, half breeds, claims of being an NPC's family member... it really ruins the game 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!:
She watched the rain on the night road from her second-floor window. It was only a drizzle, gathering on the broad leaves of the elms along the narrow path until the leaves sagged under its weight and shed the huge, spattering drops. It had been a cold spring in Darkshire, but summer came early and wet.
Inara turned and went to a workbench in her studio. She picked up the last slice of apple from the plate where she had cut it up with her dagger and absently slipped it into her mouth as she looked around. The statuette of a nude woman, posed walking away and turning in a backwards glance, was gone. The place was dormant, job done, and the dust had settled for good. The tools and paraphernalia of clay modeling were scattered about, waiting to be organized and put away. She would do that later. The place needed sweeping. It had been weeks since she'd bothered with it. This morning's tea sat in a cold kettle over a dwindling fire near the back of the studio, where there was an open shower, a toilet behind a linen curtain, and a rust-stained porcelain sink.
Chewing the slice of apple, she walked back to the window, leaned against the frame, and looked out again. There he was, under the rain, striding along beneath the dripping elms, his cloak glistening, his steps strong and slow. He turned without looking and crossed the wet road to the path below her, then disappeared into the inn below.
She looked down toward the door and waited. She heard him coming up the turning stairs, slow, patient steps. A bit of hesitation on the landing as he reached the last stair, and the studio door slowly swung open. There he stood, his pale face with a strand of brown hair clinging to his forehead, making him seem as though he were the only thing in color; a pastel man in a black and white world.
He looked around the studio, his green-eyed glare slicing through the space until he found his things piled in a corner.
"You knew I was going to," she said. "You knew."
"We had talked about it."
"That's right... Exactly."
"You didn't say when. You didn't say today." And though he kept his calm, it was clear that he was furious.
"I didn't really have to, did I?"
"We didn't agree it was final."
"Agree? Marc," she paused only for a moment as she brought her emerald eyes down to the floor, "we haven't agreed on anything for a year now, longer. As for final, it's been final for six months. We've just never had the guts to admit it to each other."
He fought off his cloak and threw it over one of the chairs. He was dressed in a pair of black legguards, slightly baggy as they fed into his boots, which rested with a leather belt around his waist. He wore a white shirt that buttoned up the front, his chestguard laid loose around the collar with the top button undone. His sleeves were rolled up to mid forearm, and the bottom half of the shirt had been untucked and wrinkled. His leather boots were wet, as were his hands, which he brought up and wiped dry on the leather armor. Strands of his hair dangled in hesitation around his face. He was breathing heavily, having walked from their home near the city.
He slowly dragged a hand up to lightly scratch at the stubble of his chin as he looked around, searching for the next thing to say, then brought his eyes to her.
"This is ... vicious," he said. Vicious. He liked that word. Ironically.
"It's over." She paused. "It's over for me."
He glared at her. She imagined his hair, hot with his anger, heating like the embers of the fire in the corner. She imagined the brown strands beginning to glow.
"What can I do?" he asked, with a tremor of hope in his voice.
"Nothing, I'm through here," she replied coldly. "I'm going elsewhere." He looked as if she had slapped him. With those seemingly innocuous words she had locked him out of her home...and out of her life.
"No," he hissed defiantly.
"Marc ... I can't do this anymore. This past year's been excruciating. There's nothing left ... between us. At least not for me."
"You think I'm just gonna let you walk away from two years together?"
"Nearly."
"What?"
"Nearly two years."
"Damn Inara! It's two years of my life, too."
"Look Marc, we gave it our best shot."
"Shot! That's what you call two years together ... a 'shot'?"
"Okay, wrong choice of words there. You're right. But I can't do this anymore. I'm weary of insults, weary of grievances, wearing of accusations of wrong, imagined or real."
"Weary of me." She didn't say anything, an insulting silence.
"What's your record with a man, Inara? This it? Two years? I think it is, isn't it? Was it always their fault, too, Inara? Did you lecture them, too ... tell them how you couldn't take it anymore? Tell them how weary you were ... of them? You arrogant b***h."
She was exhausted. They had just been through two days of this, a marathon siege of verbal hostilities that had bloodied their souls and murdered the last bit of caring that might have remained between them. It had all been said in those forty-eight hours, words long held in check, words oft repeated, words that should never have passed their lips or even left the mean corners of their hearts.
"I can't be with you anymore. I don't want to be."
He looked at her, stricken. The expression on his face was heart-wrenching, and it shocked her. What constitutes a mortal wound to the heart? What does it look like, looking back at you? It really was the end for them. And now, at this moment, he knew it, too. With a simple nod, he reached for his cloak and turned down the stairs, his boots thumping along the way. She watched the street outside her window. He had stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, glancing down the path in both directions as he pulled his cloak over his shoulders and fastened them. She could see him heave a sigh before he turned and began his trek down the wet road.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Just that I am excited about joining and can't wait to get in game. Any further questions I may have, I shall ask when they pop into my head.
Ello! My name is Samantha and I first was introduced to roleplaying by means of D&D, which grew to online text-based rp, and PC gaming. I spent a lot of time on Everquest, Neverwinter Nights, a bit of Guild Wars, but I've been playing WoW since beta back in 2004. I played both strictly PvE, and PvPRP servers having reached end game on the PvE aspect in BC, I spent more of my time on the RP servers. I was an active member of 3 separate retail servers until I quit retail in December of 2009. I do play on a Blizzlike PvP server currently but my interest in it is slowly dying due to the fact my friends are leaving and no one is interested in roleplaying at all. I've researched many private servers that offer the roleplaying experience and I think I've finally found a place that would suit my needs and tastes for what roleplaying is about.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
I hail from the United States and as such, my primary language is English. I do also "speak" Sign Language, but one can only assume that is not needed nor would be considered here. -smirks-
How did you get into Warcraft?:
Having always been a Blizzard fan, I played Starcraft and Warcraft, so obviously I was interested in World of Warcraft. I was accepted into the WoW beta, and soon after began playing with a group of friends I lived with at the time. We created our guild on the server Medivh and soon grew to a guild of over 400 active players.
What made you seek our server over others? (or How did you find us?):
Your server seemed to have the most "mature" community, and the fact that one must post an introduction before being introduced to the community was a bonus for me. More often than not I would find myself logging into another server only to see random players running about in the nude and using such terms as LOL and OMG in /say. I can say I look forward to joining the community and becoming an active member.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I enjoy all kinds aspects the the roleplaying experience, and in consideration of the history of Warcraft, I believe not all role-play can be relaxed and thus I prefer a mix of such. I do like to lounge about the taverns and have a few drinks with my friends, but I also love the action of heated, bloodied battles between horde and alliance. Besides that, my mood is what determines the kind of roleplaying I'd like to do on any given night, whether it be having a few rounds of brew with friends and strangers, or a more intimate atmosphere with close friends/family.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
For myself, I do prefer the Blood Elf. Not for beauty, but for attitude and personality. Everyone has that favorite "type" of character they absolutely love to play, and I feel, out of all the races, the Blood Elf best suits my characters demeanor. As for class, I am a rogue. Period. I've played a rogue since beta, I know the class, I love the class, I am the class, and as stated above, it fits my characters personality perfectly.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I have very high expectations of this server and have no doubt they will all be met. I've perused the forums and have had nothing but good thoughts about this server. As I said, I am excited to play here and hope that you, as a community except me.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
"All players on this server are expected to be familiar with the history of Azeroth." Thumbs up on this rule. Too often, even on retail, I ran into vampiric Blood Elves, half breeds, claims of being an NPC's family member... it really ruins the game 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!:
She watched the rain on the night road from her second-floor window. It was only a drizzle, gathering on the broad leaves of the elms along the narrow path until the leaves sagged under its weight and shed the huge, spattering drops. It had been a cold spring in Darkshire, but summer came early and wet.
Inara turned and went to a workbench in her studio. She picked up the last slice of apple from the plate where she had cut it up with her dagger and absently slipped it into her mouth as she looked around. The statuette of a nude woman, posed walking away and turning in a backwards glance, was gone. The place was dormant, job done, and the dust had settled for good. The tools and paraphernalia of clay modeling were scattered about, waiting to be organized and put away. She would do that later. The place needed sweeping. It had been weeks since she'd bothered with it. This morning's tea sat in a cold kettle over a dwindling fire near the back of the studio, where there was an open shower, a toilet behind a linen curtain, and a rust-stained porcelain sink.
Chewing the slice of apple, she walked back to the window, leaned against the frame, and looked out again. There he was, under the rain, striding along beneath the dripping elms, his cloak glistening, his steps strong and slow. He turned without looking and crossed the wet road to the path below her, then disappeared into the inn below.
She looked down toward the door and waited. She heard him coming up the turning stairs, slow, patient steps. A bit of hesitation on the landing as he reached the last stair, and the studio door slowly swung open. There he stood, his pale face with a strand of brown hair clinging to his forehead, making him seem as though he were the only thing in color; a pastel man in a black and white world.
He looked around the studio, his green-eyed glare slicing through the space until he found his things piled in a corner.
"You knew I was going to," she said. "You knew."
"We had talked about it."
"That's right... Exactly."
"You didn't say when. You didn't say today." And though he kept his calm, it was clear that he was furious.
"I didn't really have to, did I?"
"We didn't agree it was final."
"Agree? Marc," she paused only for a moment as she brought her emerald eyes down to the floor, "we haven't agreed on anything for a year now, longer. As for final, it's been final for six months. We've just never had the guts to admit it to each other."
He fought off his cloak and threw it over one of the chairs. He was dressed in a pair of black legguards, slightly baggy as they fed into his boots, which rested with a leather belt around his waist. He wore a white shirt that buttoned up the front, his chestguard laid loose around the collar with the top button undone. His sleeves were rolled up to mid forearm, and the bottom half of the shirt had been untucked and wrinkled. His leather boots were wet, as were his hands, which he brought up and wiped dry on the leather armor. Strands of his hair dangled in hesitation around his face. He was breathing heavily, having walked from their home near the city.
He slowly dragged a hand up to lightly scratch at the stubble of his chin as he looked around, searching for the next thing to say, then brought his eyes to her.
"This is ... vicious," he said. Vicious. He liked that word. Ironically.
"It's over." She paused. "It's over for me."
He glared at her. She imagined his hair, hot with his anger, heating like the embers of the fire in the corner. She imagined the brown strands beginning to glow.
"What can I do?" he asked, with a tremor of hope in his voice.
"Nothing, I'm through here," she replied coldly. "I'm going elsewhere." He looked as if she had slapped him. With those seemingly innocuous words she had locked him out of her home...and out of her life.
"No," he hissed defiantly.
"Marc ... I can't do this anymore. This past year's been excruciating. There's nothing left ... between us. At least not for me."
"You think I'm just gonna let you walk away from two years together?"
"Nearly."
"What?"
"Nearly two years."
"Damn Inara! It's two years of my life, too."
"Look Marc, we gave it our best shot."
"Shot! That's what you call two years together ... a 'shot'?"
"Okay, wrong choice of words there. You're right. But I can't do this anymore. I'm weary of insults, weary of grievances, wearing of accusations of wrong, imagined or real."
"Weary of me." She didn't say anything, an insulting silence.
"What's your record with a man, Inara? This it? Two years? I think it is, isn't it? Was it always their fault, too, Inara? Did you lecture them, too ... tell them how you couldn't take it anymore? Tell them how weary you were ... of them? You arrogant b***h."
She was exhausted. They had just been through two days of this, a marathon siege of verbal hostilities that had bloodied their souls and murdered the last bit of caring that might have remained between them. It had all been said in those forty-eight hours, words long held in check, words oft repeated, words that should never have passed their lips or even left the mean corners of their hearts.
"I can't be with you anymore. I don't want to be."
He looked at her, stricken. The expression on his face was heart-wrenching, and it shocked her. What constitutes a mortal wound to the heart? What does it look like, looking back at you? It really was the end for them. And now, at this moment, he knew it, too. With a simple nod, he reached for his cloak and turned down the stairs, his boots thumping along the way. She watched the street outside her window. He had stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, glancing down the path in both directions as he pulled his cloak over his shoulders and fastened them. She could see him heave a sigh before he turned and began his trek down the wet road.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Just that I am excited about joining and can't wait to get in game. Any further questions I may have, I shall ask when they pop into my head.