03-14-2012, 12:21 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
Name's Richard! I've been taking part in roleplaying since the vanilla days, but began playing the game after being tipped about the final beta by a friend. Early on, RP was something of a side-dish for me, enjoyable yet ultimately pushed aside in order for me to focus on the game mechanics and its aspects, such as PvP and PvE. However, in conjunction with my raising interest in board games and LARP, and both PvP and PvE losing its charm and mystery, I became a more and more avid roleplayer in WoW until it, by the end of The Burning Crusade, turned into the soul reason for me to play the game. As a roleplayer, I am limited to playing characters of L/N/C Good, or simply Neutral alignments, as I for some reason am simply incapable of playing Evil. The harder I try, the more I seem to turn into a Dr. Evil.
I consider myself a gamer at heart.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I hail from Sweden, Swedish thus being my primary language.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
It started quite some time back with me saving up my weekly pocket money and buying Warcraft: Orcs and Humans. I have played whatever Blizzard has released in that vein ever since, expansions included.
What made you seek our server over others? (Or how did you find us?):
The lack of rule enforcement on regular RP realms coupled with the dwindling quality of the RP made me look for alternatives - from reading your rules and your mentality when it comes to RP, I felt like I had found a place with a mature and sensible approach.
I guess my answer here is google.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I have been partaking in everything between bar-brawls, guild-related conspiracies with backstabbing and hostile takeovers, to IC theological debates about the world faiths. I enjoy basically everything, high and low, save for the needless torture and/or killing of others' characters. Not much into the Dark-Dark-hurrrr stuff.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Humans and Gilnean Humans are evenly matched here. IE: Humans and Humans With a Twist. Favorite class would be Paladins. I think I like the humans primarily because of their flaws, or their tendency of being flawed - they can be attributed any manner of negative characteristics, which makes it all the more satisfying to see them battle those, and perhaps raise above them. I think it's their inherent potential to greatness but without the downside of being horrible mary-sues appeal to me.
While not a devout man myself, I have for some reason always been drawn to the idea of the archtype "The Holy Warrior". Placing a lot of my own values in actual, empirical knowledge, I can only imagine how it feels like to sit on all the cards like Paladins are.
What are your expectations of this server?:
A community, a multitude of storylines to entangle myself in, and ultimately a place to call home.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
All of them? I can't decide if the non-tolerance of characters with dragon tails and tendencies to god-emoting is, or if the maturity and respect aspects are what I like the most.
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!:
I'm pasting an extract from a story I wrote about the background of an old Blood Elf character I had. It could be long, you said, so I hope this isn't too bad! xD
__
"... Allow me to make something... abundantly clear to you, Sergeant..." The orcess eyed him up and down briefly, before settling with simply looking down at him once more. She was no less than a head taller than him, her single, piercing eye staring unflinchingly and eerily unblinking right at his two, brown ones.
"I don't like you, and I don't like your men. You're a blemish upon this ship, and all that the Horde stands for." She shifted her weight over onto her right leg, effortlessly keeping her balance as the compartment's gravity shifted, the roar of the engines outside noticably increasing in volume. Graknor had to take a stumbling step to the side as to not fall onto his face, his plate armor making noticable noise before he regained his footing and resumed standing at attention. She paused briefly to look him over again, folding her powerful, brown arms over her plateclad chest.
"Had my orders left any room for it, you would be dropping without parachutes... Would you be able to fight with broken legs, Sergeant?"
"My ability to inflict harm on our enemy would be severely hampered, Great Reaver. However, I would fight to the best of my ability." Graknor answered, retaining his stance of attention. As drilled into him, he was staring straight ahead, his eyes sharp but unfocused on any actual object, or orcess for all that matter. Great Reaver Mulga let out a snort, still studying the orc in front of her with more than just a little scorn in her gaze. A tiny droplet of sweat could be seen making its way down the Sergeant's green features, trailing down his chin before following the cheekbone and dropping out of sight behind his faceguard. He still retained his blank expression however, eyes staring unseeing at the Great Reaver – and due to the distance, seemingly straight at her chest. The Mag'har's hands could occasionally be seen twitching, leaving no doubt about the promise that if Graknor's eyes would suddenly focus, the large, two-handed mace on her back would switfly send him to his ancestral grounds. He stood at attention still, his legs noticably quivering from the strain – the Great Reaver having never given him the clear to stand at ease, and it was wearing him down quickly.
"You would indeed. Now, sadly, my orders were to deliver you -safely- to your destination... Thrall knows why the Horde puts up with your kind..." She said with emphasis, her voice trailing off to a mutter before she suddenly turned her back to him, the mace swinging idly back and forth in its restraints from the sudden movement.
"As for your question: We will arrive in roughly fifteen minutes. Dismissed." The orcess picked up a paper from the table, now in front of her, and scanned it over in an offhanded manner. Sergeant Graknor flinched noticably once her gaze finally left him, then banged his clenched fist to his chest with an audible -tonk-.
"For the Horde!" He bellowed, voice hoarse, before turning and striding out of the compartment. The Great Reaver did not bother answering.
______________
The lower decks were noticably crowded. It was common for it to be a busy place, with gunners being constantly fed new munitions, and goblin engineers rushing this way and that to administer macro and micro changes to the engine feeds, aiming to give the ship the boost - or breaks - it would require to manoeuver as the crew desired. The Kor'kron also took up a rather noticable space, meant to discipline crew that weren't doing their jobs, including those who were doing their jobs with "lacking enthusiasm". Low conversation and the occasional shout was a constant factor amongs the ship's inhabitants, competing with the roar of the engines and the wind whistling past outside. It did not bother the Orgrim's Hammer crew, it had been filtered out since long inside their heads, making it a muffled, incomprehensive cauldron of background noise that they simply ignored.
Thously, the ship's crew was at this point a well maintained, well-oiled machinery thanks to many moons under the Sky-Reaver's command – further making the group lined up, and chained up, along the lower deck's walls stand out. Gunners would occasionally almost trip over them, unused to having to choose a different path for reloading purposes, Kor'kron and regular crewmen throwing the outsiders dirty looks more than once in a while. It did not seem to bother the men, some of them hanging limply from their restraints as if asleep, others sitting in silent contemplation – only a few seeming to be more than just awake, their gazes studying Orgrim's Hammer's interior and the crews' performance, two of them even seeming to be caught up in a rather hotly debated round of rock-paper-scissors. They were made up from a mixture of races; mainly orcs, a single tauren, a few forsaken and trolls, and an elf. For the unknowing onlooker it would appear as if the only things they had in common would be their gender, their tattered tabards, and the fact that they were all handcuffed along the wall – or more precisely, along a rather hefty looking chain that extended along the wall. They were all armored, in different manners. Leather, plate and chainmail adorning the outsiders, the tauren bare-chested save for his tabard - in spite of the climate, the grey plate worn by the elf seeming a tad bit too bulky for his meager statue.
The two orcs raised their hands again for another round, the chains around their wrists clinking and clattering against their own links, their hands beating forth into regular rhythm towards one another until they, on the third, stopped.
"Rock!" Exclaimed Gorash, holding out his clenched fist.
"Two papers!" Krelg retorted, bringing up his other, chained hand too as if to emphasise, forming both his hands into flat boards. Gorash blinked, eyeing the other orc with a mixture of uncertainty, scepticism and bewilderment.
"... what?" He simply asked.
"Two papers are better... Two papers covers the rock twice."
He was given a rather steely, but blank look in response. Krelg in turn simply folded three of his fingers on his right hand, pointing at Gorash in a matter-of-factly way with his index finger.
"That fucking rock aint going nowhere."
"You're full of shit, Krelg."
"You're just a sore loser."
"How about I throw in `sucker-punch-in-the-throat´ as a viable choice?" Gorash growled, clenching his fists in his restraints. Krelg threw back his head and let out a rather boisterous guffaw in response, fairly easily keeping himself out of the other orc's range – Gorash' fingers flexing and clawing a few inches from his face, both the orc's heavy armors making quite a lot of noise from the erratic movement.
"Ladies!" A voice suddenly bellowed, Gorash quickly withdrawing his hands, almost as if Krelg had sprouted another head. They all turned, with even the few who seemed to be slumbering stirring back to consciousness, to face the new arrival on deck.
"ETA, 10 minutes!" Sergeant Graknor exclaimed, and as if that was their cue, the gunners of Orgrim's Hammer released a salvo from their cannons, a few of the outsiders noticably jumping before shaking their heads to clear their ears from the sudden noise. The crew grew noticably tense at the cannon fire and, if possible, even more agitated by the presence of the outsiders, all the while increasing the pace of their work.
"We are, as I speak, passing past Mord'Rethar, The Death Gate." The sergeant proclaimed as he walked over to them – stopping at a few meters distance with two Kor'kron striding past him on either side to start unlocking the wall chain. The engines roared to life outside, the sergeant taking on a wider stance to brace himself as the ship suddenly lurched forward, its nose tipping upwards as to acquire the necessary altitude.
"... strangely fitting." He mused, before continuing.
"We will be doing a drop from a high altitude. Granted, the Horde's warships knows no equal, but we'd rather not have the hull -entirely- smeared with gargoyle meat once this is done. Upsets the goblins." The chains finally unfastened, some of the men groaning as they rose to their feet, rolling their shoulders and easing up stiffened backs – the Kor'kron setting to taking off the group their individual cuffs. Graknor stepped to the side as a small group of goblins came rushing past, managing to build a rather sizable pile of backpacks onto the floor in a remarkbly short time – recognisable to anyone who knew what flying was as "parachutes". Some of the men stared blankly at the backpacks, clearly confused. The goblins scurred off out of sight before Graknor continued.
"We will assault the Scourge's forces from the southern ledge of Scourgeholme, buying the Crusade valuable time to conquer the piece of rock that they supposedly will proudly call `Crusader's Pinnacle´." The same goblins came running back, dumping a mixed selection of weapons unceremoniously by the backpacks, ranging everything between bows and daggers to heavy duty two-handed swords and axes. Graknor seemed to swiftly take note to the change in mood, his eyes narrowing as the men immediately focused onto the armaments, Krelg's hands noticably clenching and unclenching as he stared at a sizable axe on the floor - its curved blade leaning against a rather heavily patched up shield.
The present Kor'kron guard noticably flinched, their blades in their hands already as they turned this way and that, trying to locate the source of a sudden screetch. It came from a gargoyle, the creature latched to the underside of the ship as it obviously attempted to claw itself up into the decks from below, the heavy grating of the floor being the only thing separating them from it. Graknor stared down at the creature for a brief moment, then let out a dismissive snort, turning to adress his men once more.
"Arm yourselves! And pick a backpack that is appropriate to your size, or I'll throw you off the bloody ship without instructions on how to use it!"
The men hurried to do as ordered, the tauren hefting a massive two-handed sword onto his back, orcs, trolls and forsaken alike digging into the pile to grab their respective weapons, Krelg hurrying over and shoving a scrawny troll out of the way to grab the axe he had been staring at earlier. The lone elf waited calmly for the crowd to disappate until slowly walking over, his heavy platemail clinking and clunking with each step before he simply bowed down to scoop up a simple broadsword, and the patched shield – the last equipment remaining on the floor. The rest of the group had by this point already turned to don the backpacks, mutterings and curses being heard between the sporadic cannon fire of the ship as they struggled to fit them onto their backs. The elf soon joined his companions in sliding a backpack onto his frame, shrugging his heavy plated shoulders as to have its straps not digging too painfully into the chinks of his armor. Graknor shot him a noticably dirty look before simply placing himself with his feet wide appart, hands behind his back, waiting for the men to line up in front of him. They did so, in two rows, quickly joining the ranks of their bretheren as soon as the backpacks were properly latched onto their backs, the tauren having some troubles but eventually getting it right with the aid of Gorash.
"Sure took your sweet time." Graknor grumbled before looking them all over, one by one. Orc frontline fighters, a tauren to mix things up a bit. Forsaken with bows and sharp knives, the quiet kind. Trolls, naturally, with bows. None in his company was allowed to wield magic of the destructive kind, for obvious reasons. And then there was the elf. The sergeant stared at the Sin'dorei's blank face, taking note the battleworn, almost soul-less look in his gaze, dirt and grime mattering his otherwise splotlessly white hair. Graknor didn't like the man. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something eerie with the damn elf, just a gut-feeling.
He just hoped it wouldn't jeapordise the mission, or his life, for all that mattered. Shrugging it off, the sergeant cleared his throat, straightened up and took in a deep breath before delivering the years old speech of his Legion.
"Red Mist. Let me remind you once again of why you are here! You are here because you have, in your arrogance and incompetence, failed the Horde and the Warchief! You have failed so thoroughly that your lives are forfeit, and left in my hands to do with as I wish. I will use your lifeblood to further the Horde's goals, and in doing so, redeem some of the crimes you committed whilst your destinies were still your own." He proclaimed, letting his eyes sweep over the ragtag men under his command – a grin slowly spreading on his lips.
"... A generous man, am I not?"
__
First story I wrote in quite some time since my studies began, so please go easy on me! :c
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Are CSI Miami jokes still viable, or should I keep them to myself?
I honestly think I need to know this. xD
Name's Richard! I've been taking part in roleplaying since the vanilla days, but began playing the game after being tipped about the final beta by a friend. Early on, RP was something of a side-dish for me, enjoyable yet ultimately pushed aside in order for me to focus on the game mechanics and its aspects, such as PvP and PvE. However, in conjunction with my raising interest in board games and LARP, and both PvP and PvE losing its charm and mystery, I became a more and more avid roleplayer in WoW until it, by the end of The Burning Crusade, turned into the soul reason for me to play the game. As a roleplayer, I am limited to playing characters of L/N/C Good, or simply Neutral alignments, as I for some reason am simply incapable of playing Evil. The harder I try, the more I seem to turn into a Dr. Evil.
I consider myself a gamer at heart.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I hail from Sweden, Swedish thus being my primary language.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
It started quite some time back with me saving up my weekly pocket money and buying Warcraft: Orcs and Humans. I have played whatever Blizzard has released in that vein ever since, expansions included.
What made you seek our server over others? (Or how did you find us?):
The lack of rule enforcement on regular RP realms coupled with the dwindling quality of the RP made me look for alternatives - from reading your rules and your mentality when it comes to RP, I felt like I had found a place with a mature and sensible approach.
I guess my answer here is google.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I have been partaking in everything between bar-brawls, guild-related conspiracies with backstabbing and hostile takeovers, to IC theological debates about the world faiths. I enjoy basically everything, high and low, save for the needless torture and/or killing of others' characters. Not much into the Dark-Dark-hurrrr stuff.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Humans and Gilnean Humans are evenly matched here. IE: Humans and Humans With a Twist. Favorite class would be Paladins. I think I like the humans primarily because of their flaws, or their tendency of being flawed - they can be attributed any manner of negative characteristics, which makes it all the more satisfying to see them battle those, and perhaps raise above them. I think it's their inherent potential to greatness but without the downside of being horrible mary-sues appeal to me.
While not a devout man myself, I have for some reason always been drawn to the idea of the archtype "The Holy Warrior". Placing a lot of my own values in actual, empirical knowledge, I can only imagine how it feels like to sit on all the cards like Paladins are.
What are your expectations of this server?:
A community, a multitude of storylines to entangle myself in, and ultimately a place to call home.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
All of them? I can't decide if the non-tolerance of characters with dragon tails and tendencies to god-emoting is, or if the maturity and respect aspects are what I like the most.
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!:
I'm pasting an extract from a story I wrote about the background of an old Blood Elf character I had. It could be long, you said, so I hope this isn't too bad! xD
__
"... Allow me to make something... abundantly clear to you, Sergeant..." The orcess eyed him up and down briefly, before settling with simply looking down at him once more. She was no less than a head taller than him, her single, piercing eye staring unflinchingly and eerily unblinking right at his two, brown ones.
"I don't like you, and I don't like your men. You're a blemish upon this ship, and all that the Horde stands for." She shifted her weight over onto her right leg, effortlessly keeping her balance as the compartment's gravity shifted, the roar of the engines outside noticably increasing in volume. Graknor had to take a stumbling step to the side as to not fall onto his face, his plate armor making noticable noise before he regained his footing and resumed standing at attention. She paused briefly to look him over again, folding her powerful, brown arms over her plateclad chest.
"Had my orders left any room for it, you would be dropping without parachutes... Would you be able to fight with broken legs, Sergeant?"
"My ability to inflict harm on our enemy would be severely hampered, Great Reaver. However, I would fight to the best of my ability." Graknor answered, retaining his stance of attention. As drilled into him, he was staring straight ahead, his eyes sharp but unfocused on any actual object, or orcess for all that matter. Great Reaver Mulga let out a snort, still studying the orc in front of her with more than just a little scorn in her gaze. A tiny droplet of sweat could be seen making its way down the Sergeant's green features, trailing down his chin before following the cheekbone and dropping out of sight behind his faceguard. He still retained his blank expression however, eyes staring unseeing at the Great Reaver – and due to the distance, seemingly straight at her chest. The Mag'har's hands could occasionally be seen twitching, leaving no doubt about the promise that if Graknor's eyes would suddenly focus, the large, two-handed mace on her back would switfly send him to his ancestral grounds. He stood at attention still, his legs noticably quivering from the strain – the Great Reaver having never given him the clear to stand at ease, and it was wearing him down quickly.
"You would indeed. Now, sadly, my orders were to deliver you -safely- to your destination... Thrall knows why the Horde puts up with your kind..." She said with emphasis, her voice trailing off to a mutter before she suddenly turned her back to him, the mace swinging idly back and forth in its restraints from the sudden movement.
"As for your question: We will arrive in roughly fifteen minutes. Dismissed." The orcess picked up a paper from the table, now in front of her, and scanned it over in an offhanded manner. Sergeant Graknor flinched noticably once her gaze finally left him, then banged his clenched fist to his chest with an audible -tonk-.
"For the Horde!" He bellowed, voice hoarse, before turning and striding out of the compartment. The Great Reaver did not bother answering.
______________
The lower decks were noticably crowded. It was common for it to be a busy place, with gunners being constantly fed new munitions, and goblin engineers rushing this way and that to administer macro and micro changes to the engine feeds, aiming to give the ship the boost - or breaks - it would require to manoeuver as the crew desired. The Kor'kron also took up a rather noticable space, meant to discipline crew that weren't doing their jobs, including those who were doing their jobs with "lacking enthusiasm". Low conversation and the occasional shout was a constant factor amongs the ship's inhabitants, competing with the roar of the engines and the wind whistling past outside. It did not bother the Orgrim's Hammer crew, it had been filtered out since long inside their heads, making it a muffled, incomprehensive cauldron of background noise that they simply ignored.
Thously, the ship's crew was at this point a well maintained, well-oiled machinery thanks to many moons under the Sky-Reaver's command – further making the group lined up, and chained up, along the lower deck's walls stand out. Gunners would occasionally almost trip over them, unused to having to choose a different path for reloading purposes, Kor'kron and regular crewmen throwing the outsiders dirty looks more than once in a while. It did not seem to bother the men, some of them hanging limply from their restraints as if asleep, others sitting in silent contemplation – only a few seeming to be more than just awake, their gazes studying Orgrim's Hammer's interior and the crews' performance, two of them even seeming to be caught up in a rather hotly debated round of rock-paper-scissors. They were made up from a mixture of races; mainly orcs, a single tauren, a few forsaken and trolls, and an elf. For the unknowing onlooker it would appear as if the only things they had in common would be their gender, their tattered tabards, and the fact that they were all handcuffed along the wall – or more precisely, along a rather hefty looking chain that extended along the wall. They were all armored, in different manners. Leather, plate and chainmail adorning the outsiders, the tauren bare-chested save for his tabard - in spite of the climate, the grey plate worn by the elf seeming a tad bit too bulky for his meager statue.
The two orcs raised their hands again for another round, the chains around their wrists clinking and clattering against their own links, their hands beating forth into regular rhythm towards one another until they, on the third, stopped.
"Rock!" Exclaimed Gorash, holding out his clenched fist.
"Two papers!" Krelg retorted, bringing up his other, chained hand too as if to emphasise, forming both his hands into flat boards. Gorash blinked, eyeing the other orc with a mixture of uncertainty, scepticism and bewilderment.
"... what?" He simply asked.
"Two papers are better... Two papers covers the rock twice."
He was given a rather steely, but blank look in response. Krelg in turn simply folded three of his fingers on his right hand, pointing at Gorash in a matter-of-factly way with his index finger.
"That fucking rock aint going nowhere."
"You're full of shit, Krelg."
"You're just a sore loser."
"How about I throw in `sucker-punch-in-the-throat´ as a viable choice?" Gorash growled, clenching his fists in his restraints. Krelg threw back his head and let out a rather boisterous guffaw in response, fairly easily keeping himself out of the other orc's range – Gorash' fingers flexing and clawing a few inches from his face, both the orc's heavy armors making quite a lot of noise from the erratic movement.
"Ladies!" A voice suddenly bellowed, Gorash quickly withdrawing his hands, almost as if Krelg had sprouted another head. They all turned, with even the few who seemed to be slumbering stirring back to consciousness, to face the new arrival on deck.
"ETA, 10 minutes!" Sergeant Graknor exclaimed, and as if that was their cue, the gunners of Orgrim's Hammer released a salvo from their cannons, a few of the outsiders noticably jumping before shaking their heads to clear their ears from the sudden noise. The crew grew noticably tense at the cannon fire and, if possible, even more agitated by the presence of the outsiders, all the while increasing the pace of their work.
"We are, as I speak, passing past Mord'Rethar, The Death Gate." The sergeant proclaimed as he walked over to them – stopping at a few meters distance with two Kor'kron striding past him on either side to start unlocking the wall chain. The engines roared to life outside, the sergeant taking on a wider stance to brace himself as the ship suddenly lurched forward, its nose tipping upwards as to acquire the necessary altitude.
"... strangely fitting." He mused, before continuing.
"We will be doing a drop from a high altitude. Granted, the Horde's warships knows no equal, but we'd rather not have the hull -entirely- smeared with gargoyle meat once this is done. Upsets the goblins." The chains finally unfastened, some of the men groaning as they rose to their feet, rolling their shoulders and easing up stiffened backs – the Kor'kron setting to taking off the group their individual cuffs. Graknor stepped to the side as a small group of goblins came rushing past, managing to build a rather sizable pile of backpacks onto the floor in a remarkbly short time – recognisable to anyone who knew what flying was as "parachutes". Some of the men stared blankly at the backpacks, clearly confused. The goblins scurred off out of sight before Graknor continued.
"We will assault the Scourge's forces from the southern ledge of Scourgeholme, buying the Crusade valuable time to conquer the piece of rock that they supposedly will proudly call `Crusader's Pinnacle´." The same goblins came running back, dumping a mixed selection of weapons unceremoniously by the backpacks, ranging everything between bows and daggers to heavy duty two-handed swords and axes. Graknor seemed to swiftly take note to the change in mood, his eyes narrowing as the men immediately focused onto the armaments, Krelg's hands noticably clenching and unclenching as he stared at a sizable axe on the floor - its curved blade leaning against a rather heavily patched up shield.
The present Kor'kron guard noticably flinched, their blades in their hands already as they turned this way and that, trying to locate the source of a sudden screetch. It came from a gargoyle, the creature latched to the underside of the ship as it obviously attempted to claw itself up into the decks from below, the heavy grating of the floor being the only thing separating them from it. Graknor stared down at the creature for a brief moment, then let out a dismissive snort, turning to adress his men once more.
"Arm yourselves! And pick a backpack that is appropriate to your size, or I'll throw you off the bloody ship without instructions on how to use it!"
The men hurried to do as ordered, the tauren hefting a massive two-handed sword onto his back, orcs, trolls and forsaken alike digging into the pile to grab their respective weapons, Krelg hurrying over and shoving a scrawny troll out of the way to grab the axe he had been staring at earlier. The lone elf waited calmly for the crowd to disappate until slowly walking over, his heavy platemail clinking and clunking with each step before he simply bowed down to scoop up a simple broadsword, and the patched shield – the last equipment remaining on the floor. The rest of the group had by this point already turned to don the backpacks, mutterings and curses being heard between the sporadic cannon fire of the ship as they struggled to fit them onto their backs. The elf soon joined his companions in sliding a backpack onto his frame, shrugging his heavy plated shoulders as to have its straps not digging too painfully into the chinks of his armor. Graknor shot him a noticably dirty look before simply placing himself with his feet wide appart, hands behind his back, waiting for the men to line up in front of him. They did so, in two rows, quickly joining the ranks of their bretheren as soon as the backpacks were properly latched onto their backs, the tauren having some troubles but eventually getting it right with the aid of Gorash.
"Sure took your sweet time." Graknor grumbled before looking them all over, one by one. Orc frontline fighters, a tauren to mix things up a bit. Forsaken with bows and sharp knives, the quiet kind. Trolls, naturally, with bows. None in his company was allowed to wield magic of the destructive kind, for obvious reasons. And then there was the elf. The sergeant stared at the Sin'dorei's blank face, taking note the battleworn, almost soul-less look in his gaze, dirt and grime mattering his otherwise splotlessly white hair. Graknor didn't like the man. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something eerie with the damn elf, just a gut-feeling.
He just hoped it wouldn't jeapordise the mission, or his life, for all that mattered. Shrugging it off, the sergeant cleared his throat, straightened up and took in a deep breath before delivering the years old speech of his Legion.
"Red Mist. Let me remind you once again of why you are here! You are here because you have, in your arrogance and incompetence, failed the Horde and the Warchief! You have failed so thoroughly that your lives are forfeit, and left in my hands to do with as I wish. I will use your lifeblood to further the Horde's goals, and in doing so, redeem some of the crimes you committed whilst your destinies were still your own." He proclaimed, letting his eyes sweep over the ragtag men under his command – a grin slowly spreading on his lips.
"... A generous man, am I not?"
__
First story I wrote in quite some time since my studies began, so please go easy on me! :c
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Are CSI Miami jokes still viable, or should I keep them to myself?
I honestly think I need to know this. xD
![[Image: 1271756192778.jpg]](http://chanarchive.org/content/50_b/218796645/1271756192778.jpg)