Conquest of the Horde

First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:

I am 23 years old living in Dallas, Tx. I make an honest living changing the oil in peoples automobiles. I've just recently cancelled my WoW account due to the fact that its just gotten silly with the old content as new content, unrelated content patches, brainlessly attainable epics, roleplaying servers overrun with no roleplayers, Etc. I am not a spontaneous roleplayer, more of a watcher, but without gaggles of 'misunderstood' death knights trying to cry on my shoulder perhaps I could blossom. I'm currently on the offensive with my quest to find a roleplaying server my brother and I could play on.

What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:

USA, English.

How did you get into Warcraft?:

My brother had a couple trial copies and we tried it out shortly after the release of BC. Ive played untill yesterday.

What made you seek our server over others?:

I suppose I already delved into that subject previously, but I was having a hard time actually logging on just to be harrased or just roped into another raid with little related storyline. The 'filler' content just started to get on my last nerve. The endless ERP in Goldshire, or Blood Elf Death Knights playing that they arent in Silvermoon, the list goes on. All the metagaming encountered made RP events of substance hard to achieve with strong numbers. I could fill the forum with my distaste. Love WoW though, so I decided to venture out of the shell and find my own way.

What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:

Religious oriented millitary group roleplay. I like being in groups of people with faith and common goals, but thats not saying that I dont enjoy casual 'on the road' or 'in the tavern' roleplay. No one likes a zealot. (Except the other zealots.)

What is your favorite race/class? Why?:

Human Paladin. A versatile class that fulfills any role with a race that can portray royalty or a war-torn pesantry. However you feel to play.

What are your expectations of this server?:

No goobers. People that are here because they want to have an enriching roleplay environment.

Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:

I hate godmodders. They suck the fun out of anything they get their paws on.

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 story written about a snippet of Mersadie's long rocky road of a life.


The library of Northshire Abbey was quiet. Brother Phillip sat at a table with Brother Norman, reading a weathered tome. Brother Adam and Brother Joseph stood beside one of the many book shelves, skimming the numerous volumes of scripture, lore, and theological studies. But, across the library, sitting alone at a desk was Mersadie the Zealous.

Mersadie had lived in the abbey for much of her life. It took many years for the monks to become accustomed to a woman living in their presence, but soon they did not even notice. She had cut her hair short, and wore no makeup. She looked more like a pretty young boy.

Long ago, when she had arrived at the abbey, she was lost. Her family had been murdered in Redridge by orcs. She left that life behind her, seeking a new purpose. Her feet took her deep into Elwynn Forest, and she had found a home. It was then, too, that she first met Tylth.

It had been raining that day, when she wandered into Goldshire. No one was out in the street, for back then the town was quiet, unlike today. She stumbled into the Lion's Pride, falling into a chair beside the bar. She had no money and only a worn leather suit to cover her. She was hungry and none had the compassion to help her.

None but Him.

Tylth had come to her and, with a smile that melted her heart, bought her a meal. At first, she had thought him to be looking for a companion for the night. Alas, when he made to leave after their short, but intimate, conversation, Mersadie caught him by the arm.

“Why are you doing this for me?” she had asked, the words now moving through her mind, like the sharp edge of a sword.

He then said something Mersadie would never forget. He said, “Because you needed me.”

So simple, but so honest and true. He had meant those words with all his heart, and he asked for nothing in return for his kindness.

“May I come with you?” she had blurted out, before realizing how girlish she sounded.

Once again he had smiled, and said, “You may always walk with the Light, my dear child.”

Now Mersadie sat at that desk in the library, poring over ancient books and scrolls. She searched for something that was of the utmost importance. Alas, she could find nothing she sought. Not here. Not at the Royal Library in Stormwind. Not even in the dark corridors of the Nether.

That which she sought was meant not to be found, she knew. Nevertheless, she pursued it still.

Ipluvien Duskrend stepped into the library, his crimson robes flowing behind him like a bloody wake. The warlock ignored the sidelong glances of Brother Phillip and Brother Norman, striding toward the desk where Mersadie sat.

Weeks ago, when Ipluvien had taken Mersadie down into the catacombs beneath the Slaughtered Lamb tavern to contact the demon realm for information, she had expressed the wish that he not speak to her again. But here he was, testing her fury.

“What do you want?” she asked plainly, a stoic mask hiding her rage.

“Forgive my intrusion,” began the warlock, breathing heavily, “But you really will want to hear what I have to say.”

Mersadie folded her hands on the desktop before her, and narrowed her eyes, “I'm listening…” she said.

Ipluvien slipped into the seat next to her, moving closer than she would normally permit a man to. He whispered to her, “Those whom I seek for guidance and information say that your master has returned to this realm.”

Her eyes bored into him, as if she were sifting through the full meaning of his words. Suddenly, her stern face eased. She set her small hand upon his and closed her eyes, “Thank you.” she breathed.

Later that night, when Mersadie and Ipluvien had said goodbye to one another, the not so young woman retired to her cell on the far side of the abbey. She closed the cell door, and opened the footlocker beside her bed. From within, Mersadie withdrew many things from her life.

One was a golden amulet, which she received as a reward for ridding a farmstead in Westfall of gnolls. Another was silver dagger, which bore the insignia of Stormwind on the hilt. Alas, she pulled out a faded, torn rag. It had once been a scarlet color, but it now had lost its beauty.

Pulling the tabard over her head, Mersadie made a face. She noticed that she had become rounder in the hips and breasts than when she had last worn the tabard, but it still fit. Leaning over to look within the footlocker again, she retrieved dull, ugly armor pieces. Like the color of her tabard, the armor, too, had faded.

These were holy things, magically imbued, and now they sat idle, collecting dust.

“No more.” she said firmly, pulling out the last of the artifacts of her past.

A gleaming sword, with a golden hilt and a sapphire forged into the pommel. She held it over her head, feeling the weight and the pain in her shoulders. An old pain, one which she had prayed many times to experience again.

She felt righteous winds sing through her bones, and she knew that everything had changed.

Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:

Just to clarify, Tylth was not a Deity. A prophet perhaps, but a mortal man. "Returning to this realm" was a journey back from Outland. Anyhow, this story I felt is a great one to introduce Mersadie, she is a patient, devoted, kind hearted individual who follows orders to a fault.