02-02-2013, 03:20 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
I am an older player, from the days of the Tandy 1000, when making it roll a random number was a major bragging point in school.
I primarily like to observe and then slip into the mood of public RP, not start stuff up on my own. When playing most games I tend to avoid PVP, due mostly to my time on Everquest and dealing with the insane amount of ganking of noobs I had to deal with as a mod there.
I was an avid WoW player for a long time and am here to see if a Rp orientated environment is actually as fun as it seems to be when watching over my friends shoulder.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I am an American, and only speak English.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I was subscription player for 5 years, left for City of Heroes and never went back. A friend has interested me in playing it here again, in a less structured/grinding environment.
How did you find us? Did anything in particular draw you to the server?: My friend Rini (actually she's my daughter) has been talking to me about this server and the people here for so long I've become incredibly interested in it. I know it's not a true PvE environment, but everything she's told me makes me think it will be a blast to Rp here.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
My Rp tends to be of a twisted humor or even darker vein.
Not porn or erp.
How do I say this gently?
More gritty, less Sponge Bob.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I must be honest here, I haven't played for years and truely don't remember all the classes or races.
Sorry.
I have plans for two characters and the bio's written for later if I am accepted.
Male, Hunter, Human, Gun specialist.
Female, Human, Sorceress, {Closet Demonologist}
What are your expectations of this server?:
Common courtesy, respect for others, and acceptance of those who are truly re-learning about the world around them after leaving their isolated towns to have weird adventures! (And hopefully not too many people screaming at me for not knowing all the history)
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
No GODMODING! You have no idea how much it ticks me off!
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 is a re-post of my Bio from SWTOR
I wrote this and it is posted at
http://shroudedhaven.swtorhost.com/forum...?t=8971310
Randell: Biography : Agent of the Republic
Not all Jedi are created equal, in fact some are created by misdirection and necessity.
Randell D'ark is just such a Jedi.
Eight year old Randell Flagg stood downcast in the line of smaller, younger hopefuls. The oldest of whom was maybe six standard years old. Sweat popped from his flushed sunburned brow. There must have been 30 children awaiting judgment at the Jedi tower, each sent by hopeful parents to the academy for the chance to become a Padawan to a Knight or Master.
Randell's eyes locked on a passing Padawan and her Master as the doors opened and the first row of prospects were ushered in. The girl was about Randell's age, dusky skinned, dark haired, she moved to the end of the line and addressed Randell directly. "You're Randell Flagg?"
"Yes Miss," He answered hesitantly, eyes shooting to the Jedi behind the girl.
She hesitated, also glancing to the waiting Jedi, who nodded and made a distracted gesture as an ancient human male slipped out from behind a pillar by the open garden doors. "You... you're too old Randell, you need to go home,...I'm sorry."
Randell swallowed back a few tears and looked at the Jedi Master in the doorway, it only seemed a few moments, but all the other hopefuls had already been admitted to the Temple and the doors closed. "But...I came so far...I can feel the Force... Can't I even..."
The girl looked about ready to cry herself, this was obviously a hard mission for her, but she shook her head. "I'm sorry, you're too old, and Force null. You can feel it, but...you're a blank page to it. You could never be guided by it. You...you could fall to the dark side so easily."
Randell stood dumbstruck, and swallowed back more tears as he looked at his spaceport pass. His family had spent every credit they could beg borrow and steal to get him to Coruscant, and he had no way back, no sponsor to support him here.
He heard it then, a soft hum in the air, his hand flashed out, catching the small garden stone that flew at the girl's head. As the rock smacked stingingly into his palm the Jedi at the door snapped sharply. "Satele!" The girl spun and gripped her training saber, half drawing it, looking at the hand beside her head. The fist opening and dipping lower, then up once more, two fast thwacks as more flying stones hit the boy's work hardened palm.
"Master Pi Mei! Stop that! You have no call to assault my Padawan!" The Young master called to the cackling old man. He moved forward his robes swirling as he moved to confront the ancient man.
"Hmm freaky fast. This one has, hmm, not a touch of force sensitivity in those catches, very freaky fast. I want him." The old man stroked his long beard flipping the trailing end over his shoulder. His almond eyes crinkled in deep concentration, "Freaky fast boy, you will go with K8, find a closet by my quarters, empty it, that's your room, go now."
The younger Jedi Master swallowed hard and shook his head.
"No, Master Pi Mei, he's too old to be trained as a Jedi, you know the reasons why. Please stop this. The council has already decided. He goes home!"
The old man stroked his beard again and stepped up to the girl looking her up and down, eyes steady then turning to stare at the boy. "Hmm, interesting, I sense...something. A future connection?" Looking to the Jedi he spoke softly. "I will not train him as a Jedi...I will not train him in the force...He will replace K8 as my servant." His cane slashed out banging off the droid's silver head, a new dent added to the huge collection on her head, then swinging around and rapping the standing boy on his head. "I said go, now droid-boy, or go home."
Randell rubbed the welt on the top of his head and nodded. "Yes, Master," he mumbled and started off following the battered and dented droid.
He ignored the heated whispers behind him, and at the corner stairs glanced back, watching the girl as she shook her head mournfully.
Nine years later.
For nine years he spent day after day doing menial labor for the cruel old man. His body always covered with welts, cuts, and scars from the flashing cane of the old Master. After three years, he was forced to wear a set of bamboo armor on his thighs, chest and forearms, then later a helmet. After seven years, the old Master also wore armor, as any strike was quickly countered by the young man with strikes from his own wooden sword.
Padawans would see the unlikely pair battling all over the temple grounds and laugh, but carefully. The old Master would likely as not drag the training sword armed Padawans into the rolling battles. Many times an unlucky Padawan spent hours and in a few cases days in a kolto tank recovering from the brutal thrashing they received from the "Droid-boy's" wooden sword.
10th year.
Randell stretched, feeling the pull of his many scars on his still tanned and burned body. The over-sized tub steamed and he took in the moist air deeply and exhaled slowly. K8 moved into the room and made a discrete coughing noise.
"Sheesh K8, I know you're there, and it's not like you need to cough, what do you want?" Randell muttered softly, hoping Master Pi Mei didn't expect any heavy labor this late in the evening.
"Randell, you are required to go to your room immediately, and get dressed. The Master needs you ready to serve in 47 seconds, please hurry." The droid had a backpack on and two small bags in her hands. Randell was already standing and toweling off, his eyes glancing over the old droid, she looked...worried.
Randell frowned, military grade clothes? Powered armor pieces? His few possessions in a travel pack? What was the old Master up to now? Fasteners clicked and sealed up, in 45 seconds flat he was dressed and turning to the door. Master Pi Mei was there, 12 young Padawans at his side.
"Randell Flagg, you are "droid-boy" no longer. You are now Randell D'ark, My grandson." The old man bowed once, then gestured to the children around him, catching his balance as the tower shook. "They come, my grandson, and you must go. Take K8, go to my ship, it's deep under the tower, she knows the way. Collect any of the children you find and flee Coruscant. Go to Tython. There is a lovely Twi'lik Matriarch there, she will shelter you and the children. Rebuild the Order there. We are finished here. The Sith have won."
Randell stared for an instant, and the old man's unlit saber hilt whacked him on the head. "Go you oafish dolt! They are already in the tower!" The old Master hissed. Randell nodded and started herding the children in K8's direction. The old man's hand flashed out and clutched at Randell's wrist and turned him. "Grandson, do not disgrace us. You will loose some of the children, it is inevitable, but you will find more. I expect your best, but, always remember..."
Two bone hard fingers poked Randell in the head.
"Use this, but, listen to this." A second harder poke over his heart, felt even through the armor. "The force can be mistaken, it can be blinded, wrong even. Trust your heart, it's a good one. Use your best judgment, be my last gift to the Jedi. Be the first of the new Jedi, on Tython."
The old man handed over the saber hilt and turning flashed back up the stairs, his own twin sabers igniting in the gloomy passageway with a savage snap-hiss. Screams erupted from the Sith coming down the stairs, short and savage, they didn't last more than a few seconds before falling to the landing in pieces in the Master's wake.
Two years later.
Randell stood in the large hall and watched as the lights flickered to life, he felt the students around him, but knew they couldn't feel him. He reached out to the chair a few feet away and pulled with the force, and nothing happened. Sighing deeply he strode to it and sank into it.
"Master D'ark? We have the environmental's up and main power working. What should we do next?" A young girl, barely 13, looked at him almost glowing with the power of the force in her. Randell sighed and pointed to the com-unit on his cluttered desk next to the still lit oil lamp. "Satele is sending the others here. They will be arriving in a few hours, the new temple is ready for the true Jedi to take over."
The girl's eyes flashed to the desk then back to the slumped man, barely 21 and already looking old. Silently the other 19 refugees from the Jedi Tower assault joined her in the room. They stood in a semi-circle around him.
Quietly they all bowed once, deeply, to him.
"You are wrong Randell D'ark. You are the first student of the Temple on Tython. The first of the new Jedi. The Order thanks you." The voice of Satele was soft in the room, her holo-image shimmery, but her smile was warm.......
Race : Human
Age : 47
Height: 5'11''
Weight: 198 pounds
Eyes : Blue
Shaved head, greying brown mustache and goatee.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
No, I have been told a lot about the server and the people in and on it, and I hope to make a decent contribution with my odd sense of humor.
I am an older player, from the days of the Tandy 1000, when making it roll a random number was a major bragging point in school.
I primarily like to observe and then slip into the mood of public RP, not start stuff up on my own. When playing most games I tend to avoid PVP, due mostly to my time on Everquest and dealing with the insane amount of ganking of noobs I had to deal with as a mod there.
I was an avid WoW player for a long time and am here to see if a Rp orientated environment is actually as fun as it seems to be when watching over my friends shoulder.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I am an American, and only speak English.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I was subscription player for 5 years, left for City of Heroes and never went back. A friend has interested me in playing it here again, in a less structured/grinding environment.
How did you find us? Did anything in particular draw you to the server?: My friend Rini (actually she's my daughter) has been talking to me about this server and the people here for so long I've become incredibly interested in it. I know it's not a true PvE environment, but everything she's told me makes me think it will be a blast to Rp here.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
My Rp tends to be of a twisted humor or even darker vein.
Not porn or erp.
How do I say this gently?
More gritty, less Sponge Bob.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I must be honest here, I haven't played for years and truely don't remember all the classes or races.
Sorry.
I have plans for two characters and the bio's written for later if I am accepted.
Male, Hunter, Human, Gun specialist.
Female, Human, Sorceress, {Closet Demonologist}
What are your expectations of this server?:
Common courtesy, respect for others, and acceptance of those who are truly re-learning about the world around them after leaving their isolated towns to have weird adventures! (And hopefully not too many people screaming at me for not knowing all the history)
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
No GODMODING! You have no idea how much it ticks me off!
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 is a re-post of my Bio from SWTOR
I wrote this and it is posted at
http://shroudedhaven.swtorhost.com/forum...?t=8971310
Randell: Biography : Agent of the Republic
Not all Jedi are created equal, in fact some are created by misdirection and necessity.
Randell D'ark is just such a Jedi.
Eight year old Randell Flagg stood downcast in the line of smaller, younger hopefuls. The oldest of whom was maybe six standard years old. Sweat popped from his flushed sunburned brow. There must have been 30 children awaiting judgment at the Jedi tower, each sent by hopeful parents to the academy for the chance to become a Padawan to a Knight or Master.
Randell's eyes locked on a passing Padawan and her Master as the doors opened and the first row of prospects were ushered in. The girl was about Randell's age, dusky skinned, dark haired, she moved to the end of the line and addressed Randell directly. "You're Randell Flagg?"
"Yes Miss," He answered hesitantly, eyes shooting to the Jedi behind the girl.
She hesitated, also glancing to the waiting Jedi, who nodded and made a distracted gesture as an ancient human male slipped out from behind a pillar by the open garden doors. "You... you're too old Randell, you need to go home,...I'm sorry."
Randell swallowed back a few tears and looked at the Jedi Master in the doorway, it only seemed a few moments, but all the other hopefuls had already been admitted to the Temple and the doors closed. "But...I came so far...I can feel the Force... Can't I even..."
The girl looked about ready to cry herself, this was obviously a hard mission for her, but she shook her head. "I'm sorry, you're too old, and Force null. You can feel it, but...you're a blank page to it. You could never be guided by it. You...you could fall to the dark side so easily."
Randell stood dumbstruck, and swallowed back more tears as he looked at his spaceport pass. His family had spent every credit they could beg borrow and steal to get him to Coruscant, and he had no way back, no sponsor to support him here.
He heard it then, a soft hum in the air, his hand flashed out, catching the small garden stone that flew at the girl's head. As the rock smacked stingingly into his palm the Jedi at the door snapped sharply. "Satele!" The girl spun and gripped her training saber, half drawing it, looking at the hand beside her head. The fist opening and dipping lower, then up once more, two fast thwacks as more flying stones hit the boy's work hardened palm.
"Master Pi Mei! Stop that! You have no call to assault my Padawan!" The Young master called to the cackling old man. He moved forward his robes swirling as he moved to confront the ancient man.
"Hmm freaky fast. This one has, hmm, not a touch of force sensitivity in those catches, very freaky fast. I want him." The old man stroked his long beard flipping the trailing end over his shoulder. His almond eyes crinkled in deep concentration, "Freaky fast boy, you will go with K8, find a closet by my quarters, empty it, that's your room, go now."
The younger Jedi Master swallowed hard and shook his head.
"No, Master Pi Mei, he's too old to be trained as a Jedi, you know the reasons why. Please stop this. The council has already decided. He goes home!"
The old man stroked his beard again and stepped up to the girl looking her up and down, eyes steady then turning to stare at the boy. "Hmm, interesting, I sense...something. A future connection?" Looking to the Jedi he spoke softly. "I will not train him as a Jedi...I will not train him in the force...He will replace K8 as my servant." His cane slashed out banging off the droid's silver head, a new dent added to the huge collection on her head, then swinging around and rapping the standing boy on his head. "I said go, now droid-boy, or go home."
Randell rubbed the welt on the top of his head and nodded. "Yes, Master," he mumbled and started off following the battered and dented droid.
He ignored the heated whispers behind him, and at the corner stairs glanced back, watching the girl as she shook her head mournfully.
Nine years later.
For nine years he spent day after day doing menial labor for the cruel old man. His body always covered with welts, cuts, and scars from the flashing cane of the old Master. After three years, he was forced to wear a set of bamboo armor on his thighs, chest and forearms, then later a helmet. After seven years, the old Master also wore armor, as any strike was quickly countered by the young man with strikes from his own wooden sword.
Padawans would see the unlikely pair battling all over the temple grounds and laugh, but carefully. The old Master would likely as not drag the training sword armed Padawans into the rolling battles. Many times an unlucky Padawan spent hours and in a few cases days in a kolto tank recovering from the brutal thrashing they received from the "Droid-boy's" wooden sword.
10th year.
Randell stretched, feeling the pull of his many scars on his still tanned and burned body. The over-sized tub steamed and he took in the moist air deeply and exhaled slowly. K8 moved into the room and made a discrete coughing noise.
"Sheesh K8, I know you're there, and it's not like you need to cough, what do you want?" Randell muttered softly, hoping Master Pi Mei didn't expect any heavy labor this late in the evening.
"Randell, you are required to go to your room immediately, and get dressed. The Master needs you ready to serve in 47 seconds, please hurry." The droid had a backpack on and two small bags in her hands. Randell was already standing and toweling off, his eyes glancing over the old droid, she looked...worried.
Randell frowned, military grade clothes? Powered armor pieces? His few possessions in a travel pack? What was the old Master up to now? Fasteners clicked and sealed up, in 45 seconds flat he was dressed and turning to the door. Master Pi Mei was there, 12 young Padawans at his side.
"Randell Flagg, you are "droid-boy" no longer. You are now Randell D'ark, My grandson." The old man bowed once, then gestured to the children around him, catching his balance as the tower shook. "They come, my grandson, and you must go. Take K8, go to my ship, it's deep under the tower, she knows the way. Collect any of the children you find and flee Coruscant. Go to Tython. There is a lovely Twi'lik Matriarch there, she will shelter you and the children. Rebuild the Order there. We are finished here. The Sith have won."
Randell stared for an instant, and the old man's unlit saber hilt whacked him on the head. "Go you oafish dolt! They are already in the tower!" The old Master hissed. Randell nodded and started herding the children in K8's direction. The old man's hand flashed out and clutched at Randell's wrist and turned him. "Grandson, do not disgrace us. You will loose some of the children, it is inevitable, but you will find more. I expect your best, but, always remember..."
Two bone hard fingers poked Randell in the head.
"Use this, but, listen to this." A second harder poke over his heart, felt even through the armor. "The force can be mistaken, it can be blinded, wrong even. Trust your heart, it's a good one. Use your best judgment, be my last gift to the Jedi. Be the first of the new Jedi, on Tython."
The old man handed over the saber hilt and turning flashed back up the stairs, his own twin sabers igniting in the gloomy passageway with a savage snap-hiss. Screams erupted from the Sith coming down the stairs, short and savage, they didn't last more than a few seconds before falling to the landing in pieces in the Master's wake.
Two years later.
Randell stood in the large hall and watched as the lights flickered to life, he felt the students around him, but knew they couldn't feel him. He reached out to the chair a few feet away and pulled with the force, and nothing happened. Sighing deeply he strode to it and sank into it.
"Master D'ark? We have the environmental's up and main power working. What should we do next?" A young girl, barely 13, looked at him almost glowing with the power of the force in her. Randell sighed and pointed to the com-unit on his cluttered desk next to the still lit oil lamp. "Satele is sending the others here. They will be arriving in a few hours, the new temple is ready for the true Jedi to take over."
The girl's eyes flashed to the desk then back to the slumped man, barely 21 and already looking old. Silently the other 19 refugees from the Jedi Tower assault joined her in the room. They stood in a semi-circle around him.
Quietly they all bowed once, deeply, to him.
"You are wrong Randell D'ark. You are the first student of the Temple on Tython. The first of the new Jedi. The Order thanks you." The voice of Satele was soft in the room, her holo-image shimmery, but her smile was warm.......
Race : Human
Age : 47
Height: 5'11''
Weight: 198 pounds
Eyes : Blue
Shaved head, greying brown mustache and goatee.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
No, I have been told a lot about the server and the people in and on it, and I hope to make a decent contribution with my odd sense of humor.
During that time, I had two tenures as a Guide (took a break in between), but I quit shortly after the role of Guides focused strictly on Events/Entertainment in lieu of CS/Events.