05-21-2012, 12:08 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
I enjoy verisimilitude in my play, as well as creating living, breathing and independently thinking characters who take on lives of their own. I also like to think that I have a wide range of real-life knowledge that can nicely supplement roleplaying.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I am from Canada. English is my primary language.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
Some friends of mine were very into Warcraft III and we played it a lot at LAN parties in my youth. I started playing World of Warcraft when I was 13 on the Silver Hand server and was instantly hooked on the setting as far as RP goes.
How did you find us? Did anything in particular draw you to the server?:
I was referred by a friend. Browsing the website made me decide to apply.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
In theory, I love large-scale adventure and truly epic voyages but have never found a server that could facilitate that well enough to be adequately immersive. In practice, I love day-to-day interpersonal interaction and a healthy dose of IC conflict.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Dwarves are my favorite race. I am a tradesman in real life and greatly respect the love of craft that seems to permeate from dwarven society. They combine a love of knowledge, a penchant for craft and a knack for war into a compact and fuzzy package.
My favorite class is druid, mostly because they respect nature in the most honest way. They do not forbid eating animals or consider the act monstrous. Predator, prey, life and decay are all respected performers in the play of nature. Nature can be and often is as brutal as claws rending flesh or being chased through a black forest with primal fear fueling your heart. It can also be a nurturing and sweetly aromatic grove with the grass and trees and animals your company.
What are your expectations of this server?:
An incredible facilitator of roleplay staffed by mature moderators who are fit arbiters of roleplaying in the warcraft setting.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
The restrictions placed on races that either do not conduct much to roleplay or are often abused by inexperienced or immaturely self-centered attention-seekers, such as those who roleplay as vampires or dragons.
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!:
Once upon a time, hundreds of years before the Grand Alliance was formed, three rather rough and dirty miners were sitting in the mountain village of Peak's Breadth's only tavern. The floor was covered in straw and split wine.
After a few glasses, they started talking about the town's most popular topic: the haunted pass.
The pass had been supposedly haunted for a thousand years, and nobody had ever been able to pass through. Every time somebody mustered up the courage to try, they disappeared for days. They would turn up back in town, incredibly disoriented with ringing ears and a sore body after a couple days, remembering nothing. Some townspeople would claim to have heard drums and chanting from the cusp of the pass, lending further credence to the cursed status of the pass.
One of the men suggested that they all go together, armed with spears of yew and bronze and jagged knives and blessed scrolls and drive the ghosts out of the pass.
Drunkenly brazen, the two others agreed and thus set out to the mountain pass, just as armed as they said they would be.
Edging closer to the craggy and sedimentary hallway a few miles from the village, they heard the chanting. It rang and echoed; a brusque syllable in an undiscernibly ancient tongue repeated over and over again.
One of the men dropped his spear and ran in the opposite direction.
The two remaining men strode further into the pass. They crept like wolves, the knife-wielder gripping the hilt tightly; the scrollbearer holding the ancient Vrykul text, crumpling in his clutch.
Half way through the pass, the pass zigged and zagged, the escarpment seemingly hewn from mountain by something far bigger than any man with a chisel the size of a mighty oak. Upon the sight of this, the scrollbearer flung the text in the air, retreating back to town, preferring to be mocked as a coward than to be haunted by unseen spirits.
The man with the knife swallowed hard. His eyes narrowed. He could see light. It bounced off of the walls, the stone polished like mirrors. Edging closer, the chanting louder and louder with each step through the staggered hallway, becoming so loud that his ears rang.
Dropping the knife, the man took one last step, the chanting becoming ultimately loud, he turned the corner, wheeling around to flee when mid-turn, he saw the source of the chanting.
A valley as big as a lake, cut from the stone and lit with a thousand torches, oaken tables dressed with fine silks and covered in messied plates of hogshanks and potatoes and stone tankards, and around the tables, as many stout, hairy, loud little men cheering and chanting at the fattest, who stood on a table, pouring a dark brown torrent of the richest ale ever brewed down his fat throat and onto his grey beard.
Losing all fear, his heart filling with warmth and good cheer, the man who held the knife strode confidently into the great hall of the ghosts who would soon come to be known as the dwarves.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Nope! Thanks for reading!
I enjoy verisimilitude in my play, as well as creating living, breathing and independently thinking characters who take on lives of their own. I also like to think that I have a wide range of real-life knowledge that can nicely supplement roleplaying.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I am from Canada. English is my primary language.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
Some friends of mine were very into Warcraft III and we played it a lot at LAN parties in my youth. I started playing World of Warcraft when I was 13 on the Silver Hand server and was instantly hooked on the setting as far as RP goes.
How did you find us? Did anything in particular draw you to the server?:
I was referred by a friend. Browsing the website made me decide to apply.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
In theory, I love large-scale adventure and truly epic voyages but have never found a server that could facilitate that well enough to be adequately immersive. In practice, I love day-to-day interpersonal interaction and a healthy dose of IC conflict.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Dwarves are my favorite race. I am a tradesman in real life and greatly respect the love of craft that seems to permeate from dwarven society. They combine a love of knowledge, a penchant for craft and a knack for war into a compact and fuzzy package.
My favorite class is druid, mostly because they respect nature in the most honest way. They do not forbid eating animals or consider the act monstrous. Predator, prey, life and decay are all respected performers in the play of nature. Nature can be and often is as brutal as claws rending flesh or being chased through a black forest with primal fear fueling your heart. It can also be a nurturing and sweetly aromatic grove with the grass and trees and animals your company.
What are your expectations of this server?:
An incredible facilitator of roleplay staffed by mature moderators who are fit arbiters of roleplaying in the warcraft setting.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
The restrictions placed on races that either do not conduct much to roleplay or are often abused by inexperienced or immaturely self-centered attention-seekers, such as those who roleplay as vampires or dragons.
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!:
Once upon a time, hundreds of years before the Grand Alliance was formed, three rather rough and dirty miners were sitting in the mountain village of Peak's Breadth's only tavern. The floor was covered in straw and split wine.
After a few glasses, they started talking about the town's most popular topic: the haunted pass.
The pass had been supposedly haunted for a thousand years, and nobody had ever been able to pass through. Every time somebody mustered up the courage to try, they disappeared for days. They would turn up back in town, incredibly disoriented with ringing ears and a sore body after a couple days, remembering nothing. Some townspeople would claim to have heard drums and chanting from the cusp of the pass, lending further credence to the cursed status of the pass.
One of the men suggested that they all go together, armed with spears of yew and bronze and jagged knives and blessed scrolls and drive the ghosts out of the pass.
Drunkenly brazen, the two others agreed and thus set out to the mountain pass, just as armed as they said they would be.
Edging closer to the craggy and sedimentary hallway a few miles from the village, they heard the chanting. It rang and echoed; a brusque syllable in an undiscernibly ancient tongue repeated over and over again.
One of the men dropped his spear and ran in the opposite direction.
The two remaining men strode further into the pass. They crept like wolves, the knife-wielder gripping the hilt tightly; the scrollbearer holding the ancient Vrykul text, crumpling in his clutch.
Half way through the pass, the pass zigged and zagged, the escarpment seemingly hewn from mountain by something far bigger than any man with a chisel the size of a mighty oak. Upon the sight of this, the scrollbearer flung the text in the air, retreating back to town, preferring to be mocked as a coward than to be haunted by unseen spirits.
The man with the knife swallowed hard. His eyes narrowed. He could see light. It bounced off of the walls, the stone polished like mirrors. Edging closer, the chanting louder and louder with each step through the staggered hallway, becoming so loud that his ears rang.
Dropping the knife, the man took one last step, the chanting becoming ultimately loud, he turned the corner, wheeling around to flee when mid-turn, he saw the source of the chanting.
A valley as big as a lake, cut from the stone and lit with a thousand torches, oaken tables dressed with fine silks and covered in messied plates of hogshanks and potatoes and stone tankards, and around the tables, as many stout, hairy, loud little men cheering and chanting at the fattest, who stood on a table, pouring a dark brown torrent of the richest ale ever brewed down his fat throat and onto his grey beard.
Losing all fear, his heart filling with warmth and good cheer, the man who held the knife strode confidently into the great hall of the ghosts who would soon come to be known as the dwarves.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Nope! Thanks for reading!
Again, welcome, and I hope you enjoy your stay~!