08-07-2011, 04:46 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
Hello all! I'm TheStooge, 24, from Canada. I'm a mountain rescue specialist and ski patroller, and wouldn't trade it for the world. I got into world of warcraft in grade school, and my interest in roleplaying stemmed from there. I have never been a heavy RPer, I have never played anything but WoW (for RP). That said, I find the world contained within WoW to be fascinating.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I was born and raised between Switzerland and Canada, my primary language is a healthy mix of french and english.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
As mentioned, I got into the world of Warcraft in grade school, due to some friends being addicted.
What made you seek our server over others? (Or how did you find us?):
I came across CotH in a google search. It's been a while since I last played and I've been looking into starting up again as I recently transitioned into a schedule that gives me time for such things.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I enjoy every kind of role play, depending on my character of course. I do enjoy the day to day aspects of RP, as opposed to history altering battles, however.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
My favorite race is easily that of the Dwarves. Being a mountain kid myself, this requires little explanation. My favorite class would have to be the Hunter. The cinematic intro for WoW base game sums up exactly why. Ever since I saw it, little has rivalled the hunter in my eyes.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I expect this server to be a friendly, active, and interesting community for role play, which I believe it is, from my preliminary scout of the forums.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Tolerance. To me, being accepting of others is one of the most important things we can do as human beings, because after all, that's what we all are.
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!:
An excerpt from something I wrote not toooooo long ago(or so I like to tell myself):
The diluted London sun rose above a city just beginning to wake. The previous night had been a football math, so half the population would not rise for quite a while. The Thames flowed, murky as ever along its course. In The City, at the intersection of Lewisham and Dartmouth Streets, city sanitation workers were hosing down the sidewalk for another day of heavy touristic traffic. Water from one of the street sweeperʼs hoses splashed a rather expensive shoe as it walked by. This shoe belonged to Maxwell Kirk. The young manʼs three thousand pound Armani suit stood out among the mix of sanitation crews and delivery men milling about in the street. He strode purposefully down Dartmouth Street, skillfully sidestepping any half-asleep couriers carrying their packages into the surrounding buildings. Relenting from his steady southward trek, Maxwell allowed himself a stop in a small cafe, which was only just opening. The bleary-eyed barista vaguely questioned the young manʼs attire in his mind as he continued his routine of preparing coffee. Quickly downing the espresso,
Maxwell resumed his walk. His legs still felt stiff. Heʼd been sleeping in his car for two days. The two photographerʼs cases he was carrying did not help either. Turning onto Tothill Street, Maxwell greeted an elderly landlord sweeping the pavement, and quickly unlocked the security grill in front of a small shop. The place was non-descript. The building itself was one of Londonʼs traditional stone fronted, narrow constructions, which was now wedged between one of its kind, and fascist looking concrete and granite block, a vestige of the 1970s. The store space was empty, and looked as if it had been for a while. recent activity had left scuffs in the dust, and Maxwell confirmed with a glance that all his materials were present. A tarp rolled by the window, cans on paint stacked in the back corner. Quickly unhooking the “For Lease” sign in the window, Maxwell proceeded to cover the windows from the inside with the tarp. Checking the space at a glance once again, Maxwell slid into a back room, where a work horse took the place of a desk. A case identical to those he was carrying sat beside the desk.
Opening it, Maxwell removed a boiler suit, which he proceeded to shrug over his suit. Closing the case, he made his way back into the main room. He had to work quickly. The furniture was arriving in three hours. Maxwell observed the space. The back wall would be a bright green. The door at the back would be covered in mahogany veneer. The side walls would be a dark, opulent maroon. A crate of hardwood floorboards was arriving shortly. Opening the paint cans, the young man set to work. As he painted, Maxwell prepared himself mentally. In the next few hours, he would be all the employees of a small but lucrative offshore investment company. Within two hours, the store was drying, the floors were covered in brand new hardwood, and the furniture was about to arrive. Maxwell was pleased. In the street, a loud truck could be heard. Maxwell quickly stepped outside. Tothill Street was becoming considerably busier, as waves of businessmen made their way toward the bee hive of offices that The City was. It was this reputation that Maxwell was relying on. He helped the lorry driver bring the four desks and 10 chairs into the store. The couch and coffee table were brought in as well, and placed beside the box of decorative vases and other artwork. Settling with the delivery man, Maxwell quickly placed the desks. Two against the wall, with one chair on either side, one at an angle near the door, creating a reception space. The final desk was placed at the back, just in front of the door at the back. Maxwell delicately placed matching laptops, which he extracted from one of his cases, on each desk. Next, he wired phones to each desk, from a laptop concealed in the back room. Placing several decorative bowls of pebbles and hanging some expensive looking paintings sealed the deal for Maxwell. Retreating once more to the back room, Maxwell removed the boiler suit. Striding back out into the main room, Maxwell placed a sign against the back wall reading “Cole & Sons Investments”. Pulling the tarp out of the window and stashing it in the back, Maxwell stepped outside. Quickly pulling out a small plasticized sheet out of his pocket, he stenciled the same company name onto the door. Stepping back inside,
Maxwell fired up his laptop. Launching iTunes, he played the one and only track loaded into the program. Phone lines ringing, voices, fax machines, and staplers filled the room from his computerʼs speakers. Next, he went into the back room and fired up the laptop there, launching Skype. Creating a false caller ID, Maxwell dialed the one and only number in the contact book. Picking up one of the office phones, he waited for a response. As soon as he got one, he began.
“This is Martin, of Cole & Sons Investments, this is just to confirm that your client will be arriving at London Heathrow Airport today at 11 am.” A short response.
“Thank you very much, we will have a chauffeur waiting for him at the airport. Have a good day, sir.” Maxwell quickly hung up the phone. Standing, he left the store, now office, locking the door as he did so. He reached his rented car, parked back up Dartmouth Street, and quickly applied another decal, a smaller version of the “Cole & Sons” logo. He opened the door and got in. It was a black Audi A8, with a partition between the driverʼs compartment and the back seat. Reaching into the glove box, Maxwell withdrew black driving gloves, a pair of tinted sunglasses, and a chauffeurʼs hat. Pulling out of the parking garage, Maxwell set out towards the airport. By now, it was solidly morning, and London traffic was beginning to appear. Within an hour, he had reached the airport. Quickly hopping out of the car, he approached one of the airport staff, clearly on a smoke break. Loosening his tie, Maxwell did his best impersonation of a tired, overworked hire care driver. He handed the employee, in a smart looking official blue blazer a 20 pound note, as well as a sign with “Harris” printed on it. With no spoken words, he pointed at the car, then at the gate his mark would be arriving through. The employee grinned, pocketing the note, and going to stand near the gate, butting out his cigarette before heading in. Maxwell promptly returned to his vehicle, just as the display
board announced flight BA135 from New York. Within twenty minutes, a man in his mid fifties, in a suit just as expensive as Maxwellʼs, but made of fine linen, walked through the arrivals gate. Noticing the airport employee with the sign, Nicholas Harris followed the man unquestioningly to the vehicle and got in the back. It was set. Maxwell pulled away from the curb smoothly, glancing once in the rear view mirror to acknowledge his passenger's presence through his mirrored glasses.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I can't say there is. Enough time creeping the forums can be quite informative.
Hello all! I'm TheStooge, 24, from Canada. I'm a mountain rescue specialist and ski patroller, and wouldn't trade it for the world. I got into world of warcraft in grade school, and my interest in roleplaying stemmed from there. I have never been a heavy RPer, I have never played anything but WoW (for RP). That said, I find the world contained within WoW to be fascinating.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I was born and raised between Switzerland and Canada, my primary language is a healthy mix of french and english.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
As mentioned, I got into the world of Warcraft in grade school, due to some friends being addicted.
What made you seek our server over others? (Or how did you find us?):
I came across CotH in a google search. It's been a while since I last played and I've been looking into starting up again as I recently transitioned into a schedule that gives me time for such things.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I enjoy every kind of role play, depending on my character of course. I do enjoy the day to day aspects of RP, as opposed to history altering battles, however.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
My favorite race is easily that of the Dwarves. Being a mountain kid myself, this requires little explanation. My favorite class would have to be the Hunter. The cinematic intro for WoW base game sums up exactly why. Ever since I saw it, little has rivalled the hunter in my eyes.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I expect this server to be a friendly, active, and interesting community for role play, which I believe it is, from my preliminary scout of the forums.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Tolerance. To me, being accepting of others is one of the most important things we can do as human beings, because after all, that's what we all are.
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!:
An excerpt from something I wrote not toooooo long ago(or so I like to tell myself):
The diluted London sun rose above a city just beginning to wake. The previous night had been a football math, so half the population would not rise for quite a while. The Thames flowed, murky as ever along its course. In The City, at the intersection of Lewisham and Dartmouth Streets, city sanitation workers were hosing down the sidewalk for another day of heavy touristic traffic. Water from one of the street sweeperʼs hoses splashed a rather expensive shoe as it walked by. This shoe belonged to Maxwell Kirk. The young manʼs three thousand pound Armani suit stood out among the mix of sanitation crews and delivery men milling about in the street. He strode purposefully down Dartmouth Street, skillfully sidestepping any half-asleep couriers carrying their packages into the surrounding buildings. Relenting from his steady southward trek, Maxwell allowed himself a stop in a small cafe, which was only just opening. The bleary-eyed barista vaguely questioned the young manʼs attire in his mind as he continued his routine of preparing coffee. Quickly downing the espresso,
Maxwell resumed his walk. His legs still felt stiff. Heʼd been sleeping in his car for two days. The two photographerʼs cases he was carrying did not help either. Turning onto Tothill Street, Maxwell greeted an elderly landlord sweeping the pavement, and quickly unlocked the security grill in front of a small shop. The place was non-descript. The building itself was one of Londonʼs traditional stone fronted, narrow constructions, which was now wedged between one of its kind, and fascist looking concrete and granite block, a vestige of the 1970s. The store space was empty, and looked as if it had been for a while. recent activity had left scuffs in the dust, and Maxwell confirmed with a glance that all his materials were present. A tarp rolled by the window, cans on paint stacked in the back corner. Quickly unhooking the “For Lease” sign in the window, Maxwell proceeded to cover the windows from the inside with the tarp. Checking the space at a glance once again, Maxwell slid into a back room, where a work horse took the place of a desk. A case identical to those he was carrying sat beside the desk.
Opening it, Maxwell removed a boiler suit, which he proceeded to shrug over his suit. Closing the case, he made his way back into the main room. He had to work quickly. The furniture was arriving in three hours. Maxwell observed the space. The back wall would be a bright green. The door at the back would be covered in mahogany veneer. The side walls would be a dark, opulent maroon. A crate of hardwood floorboards was arriving shortly. Opening the paint cans, the young man set to work. As he painted, Maxwell prepared himself mentally. In the next few hours, he would be all the employees of a small but lucrative offshore investment company. Within two hours, the store was drying, the floors were covered in brand new hardwood, and the furniture was about to arrive. Maxwell was pleased. In the street, a loud truck could be heard. Maxwell quickly stepped outside. Tothill Street was becoming considerably busier, as waves of businessmen made their way toward the bee hive of offices that The City was. It was this reputation that Maxwell was relying on. He helped the lorry driver bring the four desks and 10 chairs into the store. The couch and coffee table were brought in as well, and placed beside the box of decorative vases and other artwork. Settling with the delivery man, Maxwell quickly placed the desks. Two against the wall, with one chair on either side, one at an angle near the door, creating a reception space. The final desk was placed at the back, just in front of the door at the back. Maxwell delicately placed matching laptops, which he extracted from one of his cases, on each desk. Next, he wired phones to each desk, from a laptop concealed in the back room. Placing several decorative bowls of pebbles and hanging some expensive looking paintings sealed the deal for Maxwell. Retreating once more to the back room, Maxwell removed the boiler suit. Striding back out into the main room, Maxwell placed a sign against the back wall reading “Cole & Sons Investments”. Pulling the tarp out of the window and stashing it in the back, Maxwell stepped outside. Quickly pulling out a small plasticized sheet out of his pocket, he stenciled the same company name onto the door. Stepping back inside,
Maxwell fired up his laptop. Launching iTunes, he played the one and only track loaded into the program. Phone lines ringing, voices, fax machines, and staplers filled the room from his computerʼs speakers. Next, he went into the back room and fired up the laptop there, launching Skype. Creating a false caller ID, Maxwell dialed the one and only number in the contact book. Picking up one of the office phones, he waited for a response. As soon as he got one, he began.
“This is Martin, of Cole & Sons Investments, this is just to confirm that your client will be arriving at London Heathrow Airport today at 11 am.” A short response.
“Thank you very much, we will have a chauffeur waiting for him at the airport. Have a good day, sir.” Maxwell quickly hung up the phone. Standing, he left the store, now office, locking the door as he did so. He reached his rented car, parked back up Dartmouth Street, and quickly applied another decal, a smaller version of the “Cole & Sons” logo. He opened the door and got in. It was a black Audi A8, with a partition between the driverʼs compartment and the back seat. Reaching into the glove box, Maxwell withdrew black driving gloves, a pair of tinted sunglasses, and a chauffeurʼs hat. Pulling out of the parking garage, Maxwell set out towards the airport. By now, it was solidly morning, and London traffic was beginning to appear. Within an hour, he had reached the airport. Quickly hopping out of the car, he approached one of the airport staff, clearly on a smoke break. Loosening his tie, Maxwell did his best impersonation of a tired, overworked hire care driver. He handed the employee, in a smart looking official blue blazer a 20 pound note, as well as a sign with “Harris” printed on it. With no spoken words, he pointed at the car, then at the gate his mark would be arriving through. The employee grinned, pocketing the note, and going to stand near the gate, butting out his cigarette before heading in. Maxwell promptly returned to his vehicle, just as the display
board announced flight BA135 from New York. Within twenty minutes, a man in his mid fifties, in a suit just as expensive as Maxwellʼs, but made of fine linen, walked through the arrivals gate. Noticing the airport employee with the sign, Nicholas Harris followed the man unquestioningly to the vehicle and got in the back. It was set. Maxwell pulled away from the curb smoothly, glancing once in the rear view mirror to acknowledge his passenger's presence through his mirrored glasses.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I can't say there is. Enough time creeping the forums can be quite informative.