02-08-2011, 11:18 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player.:
As a start, more people know me as an alias than my actual name. I started playing Dungeons and Dragons as an introduction to the roleplaying world. I only enjoy playing races and classes that I know about. I like to place myself inside my character to know their feelings instead of relying on my own. There have been times where I completely hated one of the characters I was playing, but played her nonetheless because she was a foil to myself.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
I come from Canada. Alberta is the province. Sometimes Alberta is called the Texas of Canada. I've never been to Texas, but it seems likely.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
During my first year of Technical school, some of my male friends introduced me to it. I did the free trial and later upgraded. I wasn't aware of roleplaying until much later.
What made you seek our server over others? (or How did you find us?):
Like most people, I imagine, it was apparent that Conquest of the Horde was the most longevital of roleplaying servers. It also has a nice shiny spot on top of the Google search results. A few friends mentioned it on and off as well.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
All roleplay styles have their merits. I've tried out most and have adapted my style to each. Though I feel more comfortable roleplaying in a small group, perhaps in a survival situation. If I had to scale them, I'd say that Fighting is my least favorite, as most people try to do the impossible with the limits of their frame. Tavern can also be dull. Unless you toss some queer elements into the mix. An Ogre with a barrel of grog, for instance.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Very typically for a woman, I like the calm and serene Night Elves. I'm also fond of the wild and free nature of the hunter class.
Second favorites are Orcs and shamans. But mostly because Orcess women can have such domineering personalities.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I have the expectation that the people here are dedicated to having roleplay perfection. By that I mean they rarely (and I mean rarely) mispell words or use punctuation improperly. That people are not inclined to move beyond the limits of their influence or power. That those who are are reminded of those limits or banned. For once I would like a server that follows some semblence of lore without sacrificing it to "The players are bored". I don't think that should ever have to happen.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
My favorite part is the part I have the most trouble with on past servers:
As Grakor puts it:
"We don't need characters from other dimensions, worlds, etc. or characters that are out of place and make no sense with the current, established lore. Warcraft lore is already fairly diverse, so I don't see why players would need to branch out of the many possibilities it offers." Furthermore, do not make a character that is "more powerful than everyone else." It definitely won't fly, and if it were allowed, everyone would likely have their characters be "all-powerful."
If this rule is enforced, I can see myself being quite content here. I've had quite enough of flying fel demons with the power to wipe out entire worlds. That, and high elves.
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 will be a long story. An example only and not entirely accurate. But at present, I prefer not to change it. It was adapted from a roleplay situation I had on a previous server.
The moon orb almost seemed to hum in the moist, dim air of Zangarmarsh. It sat perched upon a twisted pillar of branches, a glowing circle slowly revolving around the structure. Small spores floating down from the mushrooms above slowly filtered through the leaves covering the camp, much like fireflies. Outside the stone and vine covered walls were the sounds of new and old things, the whistles and clicks of beasts, as well as the groan of shifting ground and drip of flowing water.
Opalesc took in all of these senses, trying to grow accustomed to the Marsh as she had done to her forest on Azeroth. Though there was so much to learn of here and so little time to do so. Right now, however, she took time to pray. She clasped her pale blue hands together over her prayer necklace. The necklace itself was a symbol, more than anything of use. It was made of fine imbued spider's threads woven together for the strings, delicate and silvery. The beads themselves were sacred, carved from the wood given by a dryad. Each bead had a different symbol, that when touched, reminded Opalesc of a prayer to whisper to her Goddess.
She felt her concentration interrupted by the sound of something prowling behind her, the crinkle of the leaves and mossy foliage alerting her senses. She tensed, knowing there was no way an unknown animal could have entered camp, but apprehensive nonetheless. She pushed the fear from her mind, unclasping her hands and turning her head back slightly in the direction of the noise. She opened her eyes then, the dark lashes parting to let her silver eyes gaze upon what beast was behind her. To her immediate surprise, it was no beast, but a man. And it was obvious to her that he had noticed her tense motions and surprise.
“Ah, Ishnu'alah, brother. I had thought the worst,†she admitted quite candidly, smiling bright despite her embarrassment. She turned her body to face him, closing her eyes a moment to smile wider. Despite her response, the druid seemed to care nothing for her pleasantry, offering a stiff nod.
“Ishnu'alah,†he offered back, his voice as deep and cavernous as an ancient hollow tree, though holding no compassion. Opalesc opened her eyes to look further at this druid who seemed to have little care or joy in greeting a priestess, though it was expected from the rather devout in druidic studies. The male would have been toweringly tall, if he were standing straight up. Instead he hunched over, digging his hands into the dirt. His hair and beard was a mane of stormy blue, cascading far down his back in waves of untamed locks. His features were stiffened into that of displeasure or scorn, a scowl currently present on his features. This was a wild druid, she noted to herself, the muscle mass on his body lean, but defined in his tabard and uniform. The uniform, she also noticed, appeared to be very unfitting to him, like he had been dressed to be so.
After a moment or so of silence, the druid looked at her scornfully, prowling off to some other means beyond a curious priestess. Opal caught herself staring only after he had left, feeling terribly sheepish for having done so. She made a mental note to apologize to him later.
Despite the dim light of the Marsh, one could tell the general time of day by gazing up through the mushroom stalks. Opal looked there, contemplating at what shade of blue the others would wake, determining that it was still too early. She smiled as she thought of the idea, quickly rushing to her tent to retrieve her staff. Within minutes, she prepared herself for a walk, deciding she would finish her prayers while admiring the beauty of the Marsh. She made it a point to stay to the roads, though, still unsure of all the beasts within.
The board walk, which had been laid throughout the marsh by the Cenarion, creaked and groaned as she walked upon it, the warmth and moisture of the climate slowly eating it away. Opalesc didn't seem to notice, however, taking staff in hand to aid as a walking stick. She marvelled at all of the new scents, sights, and sounds, eyes widened the entire time with her mouth slightly agape. Most of all, she was astounded by the various foliage, making notes to come and collect some to study later.
She had gone quite a ways from camp without notice, all the new distractions fulfilling their roles. She barely noticed when she began passing the ruins to the right of the path, heading further into the marsh than she had likely intended. A very old set of steps came under her feet, groaning in pain before finally collapsing beneath her weight. Opal yelped in fright and surprise, managing to catch herself on the side, lowering her body into the water below with little struggle. A searing pain struck her arm as a splintered piece of wood rubbed against it, drawing blood. She grimaced slightly, but considered herself lucky she had not been hurt worse. She bent down to wash the blood away, tying a bit of cloth that she always carried with her around it. Being so concerned with the injury, she did not hear the creaking above of someone approaching.
“What a fine mess Opal..†she scolded herself, noting the wet lower part of her robe and the mess that her hair had fallen into to. With a deep sigh, she moved to a bank that lead up to the path. She noticed her staff first, laying down where she had dropped it beside the new hole. She noticed second, the ghost wolf sitting beside it, staring up at her. Slightly startled, she smiled realizing it must be a draenei. “Good day, friend!†Opalesc greeted the shaman, smiling wide. She knew her common tongue wasn't so great, but tried her best to be friendly. The ghost wolf simply looked at her, panting slightly. Its face held no expression, but at her words, stood on all of its legs, moving slightly closer to her. Her smile turned from friendly to wary, knowing that they could not speak in ghost wolf, but not liking the uneasy silence either. When the ghost wolf paused again, it was no more than two feet from her, still looking up at her face. Word could not describe the look of fear upon Opal's face when the ghost wolf morphed away, revealing a gigantic troll, dark grey in color, his nose barely a centimeter from hers.
“'Cha doin' out all alone, girly..?†the troll asked with a wide, devilish grin on his lips, extending past his massive tusks, one on each side of her head. She froze, the sheer unexpectedness of the encounter taking a terrifying toll on her mind. “Eh? Ja' be too quiet elfy...†he continued, feeling his eyes burn when a surge of light came from the little elf, suddenly filled with the capability to move, scrambling away from the troll. In her distress, however, she tripped over a patch of moss, her foot slipping in the green, spongy material. She gave a small cry of anguish, trying her best to get back on her feet. The troll, however, wasn't pleased with being blinded. A grey, two-toed foot came down on her back, pinning her to the ground. She writhed, though knew she was unable to escape, begging and sobbing as she felt her hands being bound. The troll scowled, tossing the elf over his shoulder. He gave a wary look around before carrying her off deeper into the marsh.
Opalesc was in hysterics, her eyes clouded in tears as he finally stopped some time from their departure. He lay her on her back, sitting to her left as he forced her to look up at him, placing a gag in her mouth so he wouldn't have to hear her pleas and cries any longer. Despite what the situation looked like, however, the troll had a calculated demeanor about him, almost exasperated with the struggling of the little being.
“Now ja be stayin' still elfy. Eh' don' want ta cut ja up too bad. Ja got som'tin I need.†He told her, eyeing her over with his red irises, taking in the sight of the squirming elf with a frown. He grinned slightly though when he caught her surprise as he tore the robe from her body, sending her into another fit of hysterics and pleading. She immediately stilled when she saw him bring forth a blade from his pack, eyes fixed upon it. The troll looked over the priestess' body for a moment, a lecherous intent filling his eyes before reminding himself of what he wanted. He slowly put the blade to her neck, other hand being forced to hold her head from her movement. He made a small incision, enough to provoke a trickle of blood. Putting the blade down, he pulled out a vial from his pack next, holding it under the trickle until it filled.
The troll examined the vial after, corking it and holding it up to the dim light to examine. A wide smile filled his face, his business seemingly finished. Opalesc eyed the scene, still terrified and now cold from the lack of her robe. With a chuckle, the troll put the blade and the vial back into the pack, looking down at his captive once more. A large three-fingered hand pressed to her stomach, smoothing down to slip a finger between her legs, though his body made no movement. Opal grimaced; tears filling her eyes again as she guessed at what came next, biting the gag in her mouth. The troll chuckled at her reaction, starting to speak before he heard a feral snarl come from behind him. He stopped short, expression concerned by uncaring as he turned his head to look. Opal turned her head with some difficulty, but caught a glimpse of blue hair from her fogged eyes.
Blinking back her tears, she saw the same druid from earlier that morning, displaying aggressive animalistic behaviour to the troll, fangs bared and his eyes fixed in a murderous stare. The troll drew his hand away from the priestess, holding both up in an attempt to show that he had no desire to fight.
“Take her den. I got wot I wanted from ‘er.†The troll explained to the druid, stepping back only slightly to let the druid pass. Eyeing the troll warily, the druid advanced very slowly to the priestess, never removing his gaze from the troll, however. Opal felt light as air as the druid took her up by the arms, wrapping her in the remains of her shredded gown for her posterity. She closed her eyes, wanting it all to be over. With a final snarl from the druid, he picked the priestess up into his arms and backed away from the troll until a safe distance. Then he began to run.
When Opalesc opened her eyes, she saw the taut muscles of the druid's neck, stretching in the strained movement of his breath, though he seemed to have little trouble in carrying the tiny woman. His hair mixed with hers, the dark blue locks falling against her now dishevelled white ones. His heartbeat was strong and pounding against her side, being carried in the bridal fashion against him. And despite all that had happened to her, in this moment, she felt an odd sense of peace. She inhaled and smelled the scent of earth, sage, and sweat, finding herself reminded of her father, Berum. She instinctively clasped her arms around his neck, squeezing slightly as she had done to Berum when she was little. The druid blinked a bit at this, though paid it little mind. His mind was elsewhere at the moment.
There was an outcry when they returned to camp, elves gathering and discussing and questioning what had gone on. The druid walked past them, setting the priestess within her tent, on the blue pillow she favoured. He closed the tent opening to allow her privacy to change, turning to speak to the others about what had happened. Quietly, Opal touched her skin, pulling away the robe with tentative fingers. She felt as though she would break now, weak and frail. When she did manage to pull on another robe, a light tap came to the entrance of her tent. The camp had died down in its chatter, some still speaking, but at a distance now.
“Um.. yes…†she replied to the tap, still feeling very unclean from the whole ordeal and not pleased on being seen. She assumed it was the Ambassador, however, as she was a very concerned woman. Opalesc felt embarrassment fill her cheeks when she saw it was the druid, opening her mouth to apologize or thank him, whichever came first. A strange thing happened then. The druid smiled to her, something tender that she would have never believed belonged on his face. In this light, it fit him quite well, his eyes turned away from their fierce gaze to that of reassurance. He handed her a fragrant cup of tea, letting both of her hands take it, smiling a small word of thanks.
“Cenarius would be proud of your cleverness, priestess. And Elune of your courage.†He told her in a deep baritone before his lips leaned towards her forehead, lightly pressing before drawing back. Opal's eyes looked upon him in stunned surprise, both at the praise and the kiss, unable to respond in words before he stood and walked away. The tent flap fluttered by her face, obscuring her view for a moment before she moved it with one hand. She watched the druid sit a few meters away, digging his claws into the dirt once more. She felt a smile beginning, letting the tent flap close as she brought the tea to her lips. She inhaled after swallowing down the soothing liquid, looking up inside her tent with the finished smile. And Elune smiled with her.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Just one question. Although this is "Conquest of the Horde", is there a decent Alliance population?
Just one comment. Your banners are lovely.
As a start, more people know me as an alias than my actual name. I started playing Dungeons and Dragons as an introduction to the roleplaying world. I only enjoy playing races and classes that I know about. I like to place myself inside my character to know their feelings instead of relying on my own. There have been times where I completely hated one of the characters I was playing, but played her nonetheless because she was a foil to myself.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
I come from Canada. Alberta is the province. Sometimes Alberta is called the Texas of Canada. I've never been to Texas, but it seems likely.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
During my first year of Technical school, some of my male friends introduced me to it. I did the free trial and later upgraded. I wasn't aware of roleplaying until much later.
What made you seek our server over others? (or How did you find us?):
Like most people, I imagine, it was apparent that Conquest of the Horde was the most longevital of roleplaying servers. It also has a nice shiny spot on top of the Google search results. A few friends mentioned it on and off as well.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
All roleplay styles have their merits. I've tried out most and have adapted my style to each. Though I feel more comfortable roleplaying in a small group, perhaps in a survival situation. If I had to scale them, I'd say that Fighting is my least favorite, as most people try to do the impossible with the limits of their frame. Tavern can also be dull. Unless you toss some queer elements into the mix. An Ogre with a barrel of grog, for instance.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Very typically for a woman, I like the calm and serene Night Elves. I'm also fond of the wild and free nature of the hunter class.
Second favorites are Orcs and shamans. But mostly because Orcess women can have such domineering personalities.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I have the expectation that the people here are dedicated to having roleplay perfection. By that I mean they rarely (and I mean rarely) mispell words or use punctuation improperly. That people are not inclined to move beyond the limits of their influence or power. That those who are are reminded of those limits or banned. For once I would like a server that follows some semblence of lore without sacrificing it to "The players are bored". I don't think that should ever have to happen.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
My favorite part is the part I have the most trouble with on past servers:
As Grakor puts it:
"We don't need characters from other dimensions, worlds, etc. or characters that are out of place and make no sense with the current, established lore. Warcraft lore is already fairly diverse, so I don't see why players would need to branch out of the many possibilities it offers." Furthermore, do not make a character that is "more powerful than everyone else." It definitely won't fly, and if it were allowed, everyone would likely have their characters be "all-powerful."
If this rule is enforced, I can see myself being quite content here. I've had quite enough of flying fel demons with the power to wipe out entire worlds. That, and high elves.
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 will be a long story. An example only and not entirely accurate. But at present, I prefer not to change it. It was adapted from a roleplay situation I had on a previous server.
The moon orb almost seemed to hum in the moist, dim air of Zangarmarsh. It sat perched upon a twisted pillar of branches, a glowing circle slowly revolving around the structure. Small spores floating down from the mushrooms above slowly filtered through the leaves covering the camp, much like fireflies. Outside the stone and vine covered walls were the sounds of new and old things, the whistles and clicks of beasts, as well as the groan of shifting ground and drip of flowing water.
Opalesc took in all of these senses, trying to grow accustomed to the Marsh as she had done to her forest on Azeroth. Though there was so much to learn of here and so little time to do so. Right now, however, she took time to pray. She clasped her pale blue hands together over her prayer necklace. The necklace itself was a symbol, more than anything of use. It was made of fine imbued spider's threads woven together for the strings, delicate and silvery. The beads themselves were sacred, carved from the wood given by a dryad. Each bead had a different symbol, that when touched, reminded Opalesc of a prayer to whisper to her Goddess.
She felt her concentration interrupted by the sound of something prowling behind her, the crinkle of the leaves and mossy foliage alerting her senses. She tensed, knowing there was no way an unknown animal could have entered camp, but apprehensive nonetheless. She pushed the fear from her mind, unclasping her hands and turning her head back slightly in the direction of the noise. She opened her eyes then, the dark lashes parting to let her silver eyes gaze upon what beast was behind her. To her immediate surprise, it was no beast, but a man. And it was obvious to her that he had noticed her tense motions and surprise.
“Ah, Ishnu'alah, brother. I had thought the worst,†she admitted quite candidly, smiling bright despite her embarrassment. She turned her body to face him, closing her eyes a moment to smile wider. Despite her response, the druid seemed to care nothing for her pleasantry, offering a stiff nod.
“Ishnu'alah,†he offered back, his voice as deep and cavernous as an ancient hollow tree, though holding no compassion. Opalesc opened her eyes to look further at this druid who seemed to have little care or joy in greeting a priestess, though it was expected from the rather devout in druidic studies. The male would have been toweringly tall, if he were standing straight up. Instead he hunched over, digging his hands into the dirt. His hair and beard was a mane of stormy blue, cascading far down his back in waves of untamed locks. His features were stiffened into that of displeasure or scorn, a scowl currently present on his features. This was a wild druid, she noted to herself, the muscle mass on his body lean, but defined in his tabard and uniform. The uniform, she also noticed, appeared to be very unfitting to him, like he had been dressed to be so.
After a moment or so of silence, the druid looked at her scornfully, prowling off to some other means beyond a curious priestess. Opal caught herself staring only after he had left, feeling terribly sheepish for having done so. She made a mental note to apologize to him later.
Despite the dim light of the Marsh, one could tell the general time of day by gazing up through the mushroom stalks. Opal looked there, contemplating at what shade of blue the others would wake, determining that it was still too early. She smiled as she thought of the idea, quickly rushing to her tent to retrieve her staff. Within minutes, she prepared herself for a walk, deciding she would finish her prayers while admiring the beauty of the Marsh. She made it a point to stay to the roads, though, still unsure of all the beasts within.
The board walk, which had been laid throughout the marsh by the Cenarion, creaked and groaned as she walked upon it, the warmth and moisture of the climate slowly eating it away. Opalesc didn't seem to notice, however, taking staff in hand to aid as a walking stick. She marvelled at all of the new scents, sights, and sounds, eyes widened the entire time with her mouth slightly agape. Most of all, she was astounded by the various foliage, making notes to come and collect some to study later.
She had gone quite a ways from camp without notice, all the new distractions fulfilling their roles. She barely noticed when she began passing the ruins to the right of the path, heading further into the marsh than she had likely intended. A very old set of steps came under her feet, groaning in pain before finally collapsing beneath her weight. Opal yelped in fright and surprise, managing to catch herself on the side, lowering her body into the water below with little struggle. A searing pain struck her arm as a splintered piece of wood rubbed against it, drawing blood. She grimaced slightly, but considered herself lucky she had not been hurt worse. She bent down to wash the blood away, tying a bit of cloth that she always carried with her around it. Being so concerned with the injury, she did not hear the creaking above of someone approaching.
“What a fine mess Opal..†she scolded herself, noting the wet lower part of her robe and the mess that her hair had fallen into to. With a deep sigh, she moved to a bank that lead up to the path. She noticed her staff first, laying down where she had dropped it beside the new hole. She noticed second, the ghost wolf sitting beside it, staring up at her. Slightly startled, she smiled realizing it must be a draenei. “Good day, friend!†Opalesc greeted the shaman, smiling wide. She knew her common tongue wasn't so great, but tried her best to be friendly. The ghost wolf simply looked at her, panting slightly. Its face held no expression, but at her words, stood on all of its legs, moving slightly closer to her. Her smile turned from friendly to wary, knowing that they could not speak in ghost wolf, but not liking the uneasy silence either. When the ghost wolf paused again, it was no more than two feet from her, still looking up at her face. Word could not describe the look of fear upon Opal's face when the ghost wolf morphed away, revealing a gigantic troll, dark grey in color, his nose barely a centimeter from hers.
“'Cha doin' out all alone, girly..?†the troll asked with a wide, devilish grin on his lips, extending past his massive tusks, one on each side of her head. She froze, the sheer unexpectedness of the encounter taking a terrifying toll on her mind. “Eh? Ja' be too quiet elfy...†he continued, feeling his eyes burn when a surge of light came from the little elf, suddenly filled with the capability to move, scrambling away from the troll. In her distress, however, she tripped over a patch of moss, her foot slipping in the green, spongy material. She gave a small cry of anguish, trying her best to get back on her feet. The troll, however, wasn't pleased with being blinded. A grey, two-toed foot came down on her back, pinning her to the ground. She writhed, though knew she was unable to escape, begging and sobbing as she felt her hands being bound. The troll scowled, tossing the elf over his shoulder. He gave a wary look around before carrying her off deeper into the marsh.
Opalesc was in hysterics, her eyes clouded in tears as he finally stopped some time from their departure. He lay her on her back, sitting to her left as he forced her to look up at him, placing a gag in her mouth so he wouldn't have to hear her pleas and cries any longer. Despite what the situation looked like, however, the troll had a calculated demeanor about him, almost exasperated with the struggling of the little being.
“Now ja be stayin' still elfy. Eh' don' want ta cut ja up too bad. Ja got som'tin I need.†He told her, eyeing her over with his red irises, taking in the sight of the squirming elf with a frown. He grinned slightly though when he caught her surprise as he tore the robe from her body, sending her into another fit of hysterics and pleading. She immediately stilled when she saw him bring forth a blade from his pack, eyes fixed upon it. The troll looked over the priestess' body for a moment, a lecherous intent filling his eyes before reminding himself of what he wanted. He slowly put the blade to her neck, other hand being forced to hold her head from her movement. He made a small incision, enough to provoke a trickle of blood. Putting the blade down, he pulled out a vial from his pack next, holding it under the trickle until it filled.
The troll examined the vial after, corking it and holding it up to the dim light to examine. A wide smile filled his face, his business seemingly finished. Opalesc eyed the scene, still terrified and now cold from the lack of her robe. With a chuckle, the troll put the blade and the vial back into the pack, looking down at his captive once more. A large three-fingered hand pressed to her stomach, smoothing down to slip a finger between her legs, though his body made no movement. Opal grimaced; tears filling her eyes again as she guessed at what came next, biting the gag in her mouth. The troll chuckled at her reaction, starting to speak before he heard a feral snarl come from behind him. He stopped short, expression concerned by uncaring as he turned his head to look. Opal turned her head with some difficulty, but caught a glimpse of blue hair from her fogged eyes.
Blinking back her tears, she saw the same druid from earlier that morning, displaying aggressive animalistic behaviour to the troll, fangs bared and his eyes fixed in a murderous stare. The troll drew his hand away from the priestess, holding both up in an attempt to show that he had no desire to fight.
“Take her den. I got wot I wanted from ‘er.†The troll explained to the druid, stepping back only slightly to let the druid pass. Eyeing the troll warily, the druid advanced very slowly to the priestess, never removing his gaze from the troll, however. Opal felt light as air as the druid took her up by the arms, wrapping her in the remains of her shredded gown for her posterity. She closed her eyes, wanting it all to be over. With a final snarl from the druid, he picked the priestess up into his arms and backed away from the troll until a safe distance. Then he began to run.
When Opalesc opened her eyes, she saw the taut muscles of the druid's neck, stretching in the strained movement of his breath, though he seemed to have little trouble in carrying the tiny woman. His hair mixed with hers, the dark blue locks falling against her now dishevelled white ones. His heartbeat was strong and pounding against her side, being carried in the bridal fashion against him. And despite all that had happened to her, in this moment, she felt an odd sense of peace. She inhaled and smelled the scent of earth, sage, and sweat, finding herself reminded of her father, Berum. She instinctively clasped her arms around his neck, squeezing slightly as she had done to Berum when she was little. The druid blinked a bit at this, though paid it little mind. His mind was elsewhere at the moment.
There was an outcry when they returned to camp, elves gathering and discussing and questioning what had gone on. The druid walked past them, setting the priestess within her tent, on the blue pillow she favoured. He closed the tent opening to allow her privacy to change, turning to speak to the others about what had happened. Quietly, Opal touched her skin, pulling away the robe with tentative fingers. She felt as though she would break now, weak and frail. When she did manage to pull on another robe, a light tap came to the entrance of her tent. The camp had died down in its chatter, some still speaking, but at a distance now.
“Um.. yes…†she replied to the tap, still feeling very unclean from the whole ordeal and not pleased on being seen. She assumed it was the Ambassador, however, as she was a very concerned woman. Opalesc felt embarrassment fill her cheeks when she saw it was the druid, opening her mouth to apologize or thank him, whichever came first. A strange thing happened then. The druid smiled to her, something tender that she would have never believed belonged on his face. In this light, it fit him quite well, his eyes turned away from their fierce gaze to that of reassurance. He handed her a fragrant cup of tea, letting both of her hands take it, smiling a small word of thanks.
“Cenarius would be proud of your cleverness, priestess. And Elune of your courage.†He told her in a deep baritone before his lips leaned towards her forehead, lightly pressing before drawing back. Opal's eyes looked upon him in stunned surprise, both at the praise and the kiss, unable to respond in words before he stood and walked away. The tent flap fluttered by her face, obscuring her view for a moment before she moved it with one hand. She watched the druid sit a few meters away, digging his claws into the dirt once more. She felt a smile beginning, letting the tent flap close as she brought the tea to her lips. She inhaled after swallowing down the soothing liquid, looking up inside her tent with the finished smile. And Elune smiled with her.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Just one question. Although this is "Conquest of the Horde", is there a decent Alliance population?
Just one comment. Your banners are lovely.