06-06-2009, 12:30 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
Hi, everybody! My name is Erik, and I'm a 22-year-old from Minnesota. Like my brother (forum account deepdownabove), I was introduced to videogames by my father, who probably didn't know what he was getting me into. After some time in the RP channels of Battle.net, trying to keep up with my little brother's fast and furious pack of juvenile dragon characters, my older brother managed to lure me to AD&D (a game I was unable to figure out at the time) and Ultima Online. Playing UO with my brothers taught me my basic RP skills, particularly how to turn a set of numbers into a living, breathing entity, capable not only of standing up to the scrutiny of my peers but also of surprising me when the character refused to do what I wanted him to do. Over ten years and dozens of characters later, I'm now happily scavenging used book stores for more roleplaying books I probably don't really need, interrupting my friends and my brother at work with campaign ideas that absolutely need to be discussed RIGHT NOW, and making the difficult choice of which campaign of my six-or-so ideas to run this month. Although I'm usually the one that gets steamrolled into being the DM (although I don't really protest that much), I really love being a player in someone else's game (kudos to my brother for scoring me a spot in the incredibly awesome 2nd edition group). I really miss playing on roleplaying servers of any kind, and I would love to get started on that again.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I'm from the US of A, with english as a primary language.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
My godfather gave us Warcraft games and I fell in love. I've been devouring all the lore I can find ever since.
What made you seek our server over others?:
My brother came to me and told me the server looked awesome, so looked into it. It did, indeed, look awesome.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I enjoy whatever sort of roleplay makes my character come to life. DM'ing has taught me to be somewhat more versatile.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Although I like all the races and classes, I'm more fond of the Horde races than the Alliance ones. Of particular interest to me are the Forsaken, and the tragic nature of their curse. As classes go, I'm rather fond of the Blood Knights.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I expect a friendly, supportive and cooperative environment, with good rules and heaps of common sense.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
I'm a huge fan of the rule of humility, especially since I've never seen a rule like that put down on paper (pixels?) before. It's exactly the sort of mindset I try to have when I play in a game or run my own. (Although the keyboard skills rule is nice, too.)
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!:
The thin, wiry troll struggled in the heat, clawing his way up the barren, red gravel path that had been set before him. No matter how hard he had tried to acclimate himself to the much drier air in Durotar, he still longed for the humidity of the jungle islands he had called home. Now he could feel every drop of sweat being ripped from his body by the ravenous air of the orcs' new homeland as he struggled up the damned mountain. There it is, he thought to himself, the scrub bush the Zufli spoke of. Just a few more minutes and I'll be off this damned mountain, out of the orcs' damned valley, out of her sickening shadow. Just a bit lo-
He spat out a Zandali curse as the stone he had chosen as a handhold tore itself out of the earth, unable to support his weight. He slid backwards down the treacherous path he had been battling for nearly an hour, ultimately tumbling head over heels as his own legs betrayed him to gravity. He ultimately landed at the base of the slope he had been scaling, falling upon his back with a sickening thud. He kept the darkness at bay for a few moments, just long enough for a pebble to strike his one good eye, like some final insult from the mocking peak. Then he knew darkness.
* * *
The young troll woke with a start to the feeling of a chill breeze on his face. He felt cool air enter his lungs, and he opened his right eye to see the twinkling of a thousand stars in the sky above him. He cursed the earth for toying with him so, cursed the wind for laughing at his indignity, cursed that damned woman for making him suffer this humiliation. Groaning, he pulled himself upright before checking the gourd hanging at his waist. He breathed a sigh of relief as he found it intact, thankful that he would not need to return to the zufli and grovel for more sapta. He crouched for a moment, waiting for the last bits of his strength to return, before making his second attempt to climb.
Oh, how his master would laugh at the tale he would be forced to tell. Of his "lessons" in the valley. Of the bumbling peons he had throttled- the troll had particularly enjoyed that. Of the accursed zufli, and the way he had been forced to kowtow to her, like a cub before its mother.
Oh, how he hated that woman. Not just for being a female, for making him suffer the humiliation of servitude, but for what she represented. For the changes his people were suffering, the culture being ripped from them, like the still-beating heart of a fallen warrior. Granted, the orcs' Warchief had saved his people from slavery and death, but the troll wondered at times if death would not be preferable to the indignities being forced upon the Darkspear tribe. He touched the ruined socket of his left eye, scarred by the flames that had taken his future from him, and reflected that perhaps the pain he had felt when the joy of hunting had been stolen from him was not nearly as great as he had imagined.
He breathed a deep sigh as he turned to the slope that had cast him down. Breathing a silent prayer to his ancestors and to the Loa, he began his climb up the mountain face once more.
***
The young troll crested the mountaintop as the sky began to lighten. He whispered thanks to the ancestors and the Loa for their help, promising a sacrifice when he returned to his village. Perhaps the master and I will find a quillboar, or one of those Burning Blade types the Warchief hates so much, he thought. He snickered quietly as he reached for the gourd flask, relishing the brutal images dancing in his head. Only one more task to complete, and then I can return to my studies. The warchief's demand will be satisfied. With but a moment's hesitation, he carefully unstoppered the gourd and drank deeply from the ambrosia within. He closed his eye, alone, calling on the Loa for strength. When he opened it, his final test stood before him.
Why have you come?
The troll looked up at the towering stone behemoth before him, momentarily awed into silence. Then he remembered himself, and addressed the elemental manifestation with a voice that trembled only slightly.
"I come to stan' before ya wid humility, spirit o' da earth," the troll said, inclining his head slightly. He was not prepared for the response he received from the spirit.
You come to speak lies to me, troll?
Shifting a step back, he looked up at the elemental again. With an edge of fear in his voice, he replied, "No, mon- ay, great spirit."
The giant lowered itself, seeming to glare at the aspiring shaman with what passed for eyes. You do not know humility before the Earth, troll. You come to us not with humility, but with arrogance. You seek not to commune with us, but to control us.
The troll yelped in surprise as the elemental swatted him in the chest, knocking him off his feet. Before he could rise, the creature had placed one colossal hand upon his chest, holding him in place. His heart quaked.
Know this, troll: you are nothing before the Earth.
The troll swallowed, his one eye wide with terror. He heard a rumbling, like a landslide or a far-off stampede, although he was uncertain if the sound came from the stone spirit or from the earth upon which he lay.
You fear us. And rightly so. The creature raised its hand. Fear is respect, and we accept that which you have brought us.
The earth continued to rumble, and the sound of something breaking near his head caused the troll to sit up and look. He saw the smallest crack in the stone, from which poured the slightest trickle of water. He looked at the stone giant in confusion.
We have three gifts for you, troll. That water is the first, to keep you from death.
The troll nodded, slowly collecting himself. He tried to rise, but found that movement was impossible beneath the elemental spirit's gaze.
In the spring you will find a stone, your second gift. Bring it to the one who sent you.
The troll grinned, glad to have satisfied the zufli's command. Now I can be rid of her. He turned to reach for the stone in the crevice-
-and screamed as the earthen giant slammed one massive fist into his right leg, crushing it into the soil of Durotar.
For your third gift, we give you patience, and humility. The orcs will find you in time, and you will be made whole, but not without the help of those greater than you. Learn this lesson well, Jezz'ar of the Darkspear tribe.
The vision faded from sight, and soon after, so did the world.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Nothing comes to mind yet, but I'm sure that things will come up as I go.
Hi, everybody! My name is Erik, and I'm a 22-year-old from Minnesota. Like my brother (forum account deepdownabove), I was introduced to videogames by my father, who probably didn't know what he was getting me into. After some time in the RP channels of Battle.net, trying to keep up with my little brother's fast and furious pack of juvenile dragon characters, my older brother managed to lure me to AD&D (a game I was unable to figure out at the time) and Ultima Online. Playing UO with my brothers taught me my basic RP skills, particularly how to turn a set of numbers into a living, breathing entity, capable not only of standing up to the scrutiny of my peers but also of surprising me when the character refused to do what I wanted him to do. Over ten years and dozens of characters later, I'm now happily scavenging used book stores for more roleplaying books I probably don't really need, interrupting my friends and my brother at work with campaign ideas that absolutely need to be discussed RIGHT NOW, and making the difficult choice of which campaign of my six-or-so ideas to run this month. Although I'm usually the one that gets steamrolled into being the DM (although I don't really protest that much), I really love being a player in someone else's game (kudos to my brother for scoring me a spot in the incredibly awesome 2nd edition group). I really miss playing on roleplaying servers of any kind, and I would love to get started on that again.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I'm from the US of A, with english as a primary language.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
My godfather gave us Warcraft games and I fell in love. I've been devouring all the lore I can find ever since.
What made you seek our server over others?:
My brother came to me and told me the server looked awesome, so looked into it. It did, indeed, look awesome.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I enjoy whatever sort of roleplay makes my character come to life. DM'ing has taught me to be somewhat more versatile.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Although I like all the races and classes, I'm more fond of the Horde races than the Alliance ones. Of particular interest to me are the Forsaken, and the tragic nature of their curse. As classes go, I'm rather fond of the Blood Knights.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I expect a friendly, supportive and cooperative environment, with good rules and heaps of common sense.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
I'm a huge fan of the rule of humility, especially since I've never seen a rule like that put down on paper (pixels?) before. It's exactly the sort of mindset I try to have when I play in a game or run my own. (Although the keyboard skills rule is nice, too.)
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!:
The thin, wiry troll struggled in the heat, clawing his way up the barren, red gravel path that had been set before him. No matter how hard he had tried to acclimate himself to the much drier air in Durotar, he still longed for the humidity of the jungle islands he had called home. Now he could feel every drop of sweat being ripped from his body by the ravenous air of the orcs' new homeland as he struggled up the damned mountain. There it is, he thought to himself, the scrub bush the Zufli spoke of. Just a few more minutes and I'll be off this damned mountain, out of the orcs' damned valley, out of her sickening shadow. Just a bit lo-
He spat out a Zandali curse as the stone he had chosen as a handhold tore itself out of the earth, unable to support his weight. He slid backwards down the treacherous path he had been battling for nearly an hour, ultimately tumbling head over heels as his own legs betrayed him to gravity. He ultimately landed at the base of the slope he had been scaling, falling upon his back with a sickening thud. He kept the darkness at bay for a few moments, just long enough for a pebble to strike his one good eye, like some final insult from the mocking peak. Then he knew darkness.
* * *
The young troll woke with a start to the feeling of a chill breeze on his face. He felt cool air enter his lungs, and he opened his right eye to see the twinkling of a thousand stars in the sky above him. He cursed the earth for toying with him so, cursed the wind for laughing at his indignity, cursed that damned woman for making him suffer this humiliation. Groaning, he pulled himself upright before checking the gourd hanging at his waist. He breathed a sigh of relief as he found it intact, thankful that he would not need to return to the zufli and grovel for more sapta. He crouched for a moment, waiting for the last bits of his strength to return, before making his second attempt to climb.
Oh, how his master would laugh at the tale he would be forced to tell. Of his "lessons" in the valley. Of the bumbling peons he had throttled- the troll had particularly enjoyed that. Of the accursed zufli, and the way he had been forced to kowtow to her, like a cub before its mother.
Oh, how he hated that woman. Not just for being a female, for making him suffer the humiliation of servitude, but for what she represented. For the changes his people were suffering, the culture being ripped from them, like the still-beating heart of a fallen warrior. Granted, the orcs' Warchief had saved his people from slavery and death, but the troll wondered at times if death would not be preferable to the indignities being forced upon the Darkspear tribe. He touched the ruined socket of his left eye, scarred by the flames that had taken his future from him, and reflected that perhaps the pain he had felt when the joy of hunting had been stolen from him was not nearly as great as he had imagined.
He breathed a deep sigh as he turned to the slope that had cast him down. Breathing a silent prayer to his ancestors and to the Loa, he began his climb up the mountain face once more.
***
The young troll crested the mountaintop as the sky began to lighten. He whispered thanks to the ancestors and the Loa for their help, promising a sacrifice when he returned to his village. Perhaps the master and I will find a quillboar, or one of those Burning Blade types the Warchief hates so much, he thought. He snickered quietly as he reached for the gourd flask, relishing the brutal images dancing in his head. Only one more task to complete, and then I can return to my studies. The warchief's demand will be satisfied. With but a moment's hesitation, he carefully unstoppered the gourd and drank deeply from the ambrosia within. He closed his eye, alone, calling on the Loa for strength. When he opened it, his final test stood before him.
Why have you come?
The troll looked up at the towering stone behemoth before him, momentarily awed into silence. Then he remembered himself, and addressed the elemental manifestation with a voice that trembled only slightly.
"I come to stan' before ya wid humility, spirit o' da earth," the troll said, inclining his head slightly. He was not prepared for the response he received from the spirit.
You come to speak lies to me, troll?
Shifting a step back, he looked up at the elemental again. With an edge of fear in his voice, he replied, "No, mon- ay, great spirit."
The giant lowered itself, seeming to glare at the aspiring shaman with what passed for eyes. You do not know humility before the Earth, troll. You come to us not with humility, but with arrogance. You seek not to commune with us, but to control us.
The troll yelped in surprise as the elemental swatted him in the chest, knocking him off his feet. Before he could rise, the creature had placed one colossal hand upon his chest, holding him in place. His heart quaked.
Know this, troll: you are nothing before the Earth.
The troll swallowed, his one eye wide with terror. He heard a rumbling, like a landslide or a far-off stampede, although he was uncertain if the sound came from the stone spirit or from the earth upon which he lay.
You fear us. And rightly so. The creature raised its hand. Fear is respect, and we accept that which you have brought us.
The earth continued to rumble, and the sound of something breaking near his head caused the troll to sit up and look. He saw the smallest crack in the stone, from which poured the slightest trickle of water. He looked at the stone giant in confusion.
We have three gifts for you, troll. That water is the first, to keep you from death.
The troll nodded, slowly collecting himself. He tried to rise, but found that movement was impossible beneath the elemental spirit's gaze.
In the spring you will find a stone, your second gift. Bring it to the one who sent you.
The troll grinned, glad to have satisfied the zufli's command. Now I can be rid of her. He turned to reach for the stone in the crevice-
-and screamed as the earthen giant slammed one massive fist into his right leg, crushing it into the soil of Durotar.
For your third gift, we give you patience, and humility. The orcs will find you in time, and you will be made whole, but not without the help of those greater than you. Learn this lesson well, Jezz'ar of the Darkspear tribe.
The vision faded from sight, and soon after, so did the world.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Nothing comes to mind yet, but I'm sure that things will come up as I go.