01-27-2010, 07:54 AM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player.:
Hi. My name is Drusilla, but a lot of people call me Stephanie. It's a long, mostly boring story. I'm not good at summing myself up because I feel that I'll only mention the good things or sell myself short. I've been roleplaying since I was 14 and started on "Neverwinter Nights." At the time I didn't know what RP was, so I ran around like a goon. But then I met my friend Josh and he explained it all to me, then made me roleplay with him. I really sucked at first. I mean, I had the basic concept down but when it came to it I ended up writing *lol* (there is no /me or /e on NwN; it's all done in symbols surrounding text). Anyway, some time passed and for a long time I was a one-liner RPer, but then I ended up playing on this para-RP server where a guy taught me how to expand on my descriptions in RP. So, yeah. Now I've been roleplaying on a server based around Harry Potter for about 3 or 4 years. Pretty intense stuff. I also played on "LS-RP" on GTA.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
I am from the United States of America and English is my only language.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
Last summer my friends and I tried to figure out how to play on private servers after I had a hunch to play the trial. Needless to say, it didn't work. So while roleplaying on HP I made a friend and he mentioned WoW. So I was like, "hey, cool, how do you do private servers?" and he told me. So here I am. 10 gigs later.
What made you seek our server over others?:
I was actually told about this server by someone else. I don't know what his name is on here but he's pretty awesome.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I enjoy all kinds of roleplay. I don't really care what it is. As long as it has some kind of story backing I'm good.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I like gnomes because they're adorable and make me giggle. But character wise? Probably trolls. I'm not really sure, honestly. I'm going to Google all this stuff later on as I try to make a choice on which kind of character I want to play (or just look around these forums some more).
What are your expectations of this server?:
My expectations of this server are few and far between; in short, I hope there is roleplay. Which I'm banking on from these forums.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Godmodding. I hate it. Bad.
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!:
Alright, I'm going to pull one of my stories from Harry Potter over here. Note: It may be just a tad fuzzy, but a brief background of the character is that she is a seventeen year old, rich, emotionlly handicapped Slytherin.
--
She stared into her eyes. The pools of black seemed barren where other's had essence and yet everyone around her remained oblivious. Her taut, olive skin was flawless, her structure imminent to the image of perfection in even her mother's eyes. Servants were behind her, oblivious to her pain and embracing what hints of sorrow she had as vapid. She pried her eyes away from her reflection and sat them upon the women who wore nothing but rags. Their silence emphasized their malice of the seventeen year old that was raised as a princess. Their rough yanks at the curled locks of her hair were only followed by exaggerations of apocryphal atonement.
A black gossamer scarf was tied around her neck gingerly and suspended over her back to hide the tattoos that would attain perpetual interrogations and tirades of contemptible defamation.
Her inferiors lowered a corset over her bare body, evading her tarnished skin in fear of being reprimanded sternly. She ceased to breath as they linked it together, rebuffing circulation, let alone breath.
They merely gesticulated; an aberration that would not be omitted, but neither a movement to gain impeachment. She mimicked her mother's scowl which was enough for the tsunami of apologies to commence. Drusilla narrowed her eyes, glaring at the Mancini staff with aversion; but unable to enunciate through the bindings.
Hours later they had concluded the dress, the hems, the decoration, the fitting. Drusilla had grown weary of the maid's quarters and demurred salutation, punctiliously, of course.
She kept a constant, determined drift down the halls that were devoid of colour, but luxurious and abundant in history of the Mancini line. The colossal marble columns, moving imagery of her ancestors in oil paintings, lavish rugs amongst the granite floors and her unfit stoicism seemed incessant.
She could hear her mother's lax cackle penetrating the walls, the coerced chuckle of her father. She often meditated on how they endured their indifferent companionship for so many years. There would be seconds where she longed for a family like Jinx's. The loving, easy going wizards without a chip on their shoulders. But she was cemented, and as her father would preach, “Made the best of it.â€Â
The winding hallway came to its abrupt boundary. The overworked house elf stumbled into Drusilla and quickly picked itself up, smoothing out the ends of her velvet evening gown. She took a deep breath, her jaw tensing tightly; nearly protruding from the skin as it often would. She extended her hand to the twisting staircase where not only her parents, but Jinx sat awaiting her presence. Her wrist featured a diamond bracelet, and when she slowly took the steps leading to her demise a hidden green panel of her dress would flash elegantly.
She couldn't take her eyes from Jinx, the first genuine smile in months curling her lips as he stood at the bottom, his arm extended as if its only objective was to embrace hers. He was handsome, and to Drusilla, a picture worth far more than 1,000 words. His suit, his tied back hair, his class that was normally hidden comforted her. Her mother and father cynically whispered between themselves; their pessimistic ways hindered by the love of the youths.
When she reached Jinx, she amicably placed her arm around his; abiding his movements. Neither of the two were sure what happened that night. They did not dare speak out of turn and presented themselves authoritatively; as if their engagement did not go beyond an executive agreement.
The night of trials neared its end, leaving the two side by side on an elevated fainting couch where they looked upon Tripp and Sylvania pleadingly, their fingers entwined, their bodies close.
Tripp peered down his nose at Drusilla, his eyes never leaving hers, and Sylvania's never leaving Jinx's. The two had known better than to look away, and confidently basked in the penetrating, testing stares.
Tripp dominantly spoke with the backing of Sylvania who never left his arm, "The two of you are forbidden from any form of contact."
Her father's eyes pierced Drusilla's heart. She hadn't bothered to listen to the rest of the proclamation before her body tensed, her eyes straining to stay open as she clenched Jinx's hand to contain her anger, angst and disappointment. Jinx's grasp was equal, but not quite as intense; as if he had heard what she had not.
She refused to look at Jinx as she slowly uncoiled her fingers from his; the only things in her eyes were the reflections of her parents. Their voices were cold and apathetic. Her mother's tantalizing scowl, her father's diplomatic grace. She couldn't feel her heart, her legs, and for the first time her mind blanked. This was the feeling she had strived for in her magic, and only now did she feel it.
For a moment she felt her long suppressed emotions surfacing; forcing the breath from her in what she learned was a foolish scoff. Her father's eyes descended upon her as if she were a mere child, his disenchantment evident.
"Dear, dear, Drusilla, we do not accept pouting in our home."
He stood from his chair, his wooden walking stick hitting the floor tortuously, her body jolting and her eyes stapling themselves shut.
She could feel the tenseness in Jinx, but beneath it the warmth and solace that she grew to admire. Her hair shrouded her face, her eyes prying to the right as she struggled to see her beau as if it would be the last time she would feel him. He bowed and turned, much as Drusilla would in the following month, and left silently.
--
Yeah, Jinx is her future husband. Her parents basically told her that she couldn't see him for three months as a trial to see if they will remain loyal to eachother. Marriages in the Mancini family are generally arranged, but Drusilla met Sinclair at Hogwarts and fell in love - not with him, though she was confused about that for awhile, but because he's a dark wizard of sorts, and she was using him to learn about things Hogwarts won't teach her. Anyway, here's some more:
http://forums.wohp.net/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=2557
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
No, not really. If I'm denied will I be contacted with why and be allowed to reapply?
Thanks!
Hi. My name is Drusilla, but a lot of people call me Stephanie. It's a long, mostly boring story. I'm not good at summing myself up because I feel that I'll only mention the good things or sell myself short. I've been roleplaying since I was 14 and started on "Neverwinter Nights." At the time I didn't know what RP was, so I ran around like a goon. But then I met my friend Josh and he explained it all to me, then made me roleplay with him. I really sucked at first. I mean, I had the basic concept down but when it came to it I ended up writing *lol* (there is no /me or /e on NwN; it's all done in symbols surrounding text). Anyway, some time passed and for a long time I was a one-liner RPer, but then I ended up playing on this para-RP server where a guy taught me how to expand on my descriptions in RP. So, yeah. Now I've been roleplaying on a server based around Harry Potter for about 3 or 4 years. Pretty intense stuff. I also played on "LS-RP" on GTA.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
I am from the United States of America and English is my only language.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
Last summer my friends and I tried to figure out how to play on private servers after I had a hunch to play the trial. Needless to say, it didn't work. So while roleplaying on HP I made a friend and he mentioned WoW. So I was like, "hey, cool, how do you do private servers?" and he told me. So here I am. 10 gigs later.
What made you seek our server over others?:
I was actually told about this server by someone else. I don't know what his name is on here but he's pretty awesome.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I enjoy all kinds of roleplay. I don't really care what it is. As long as it has some kind of story backing I'm good.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I like gnomes because they're adorable and make me giggle. But character wise? Probably trolls. I'm not really sure, honestly. I'm going to Google all this stuff later on as I try to make a choice on which kind of character I want to play (or just look around these forums some more).
What are your expectations of this server?:
My expectations of this server are few and far between; in short, I hope there is roleplay. Which I'm banking on from these forums.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Godmodding. I hate it. Bad.
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!:
Alright, I'm going to pull one of my stories from Harry Potter over here. Note: It may be just a tad fuzzy, but a brief background of the character is that she is a seventeen year old, rich, emotionlly handicapped Slytherin.
--
She stared into her eyes. The pools of black seemed barren where other's had essence and yet everyone around her remained oblivious. Her taut, olive skin was flawless, her structure imminent to the image of perfection in even her mother's eyes. Servants were behind her, oblivious to her pain and embracing what hints of sorrow she had as vapid. She pried her eyes away from her reflection and sat them upon the women who wore nothing but rags. Their silence emphasized their malice of the seventeen year old that was raised as a princess. Their rough yanks at the curled locks of her hair were only followed by exaggerations of apocryphal atonement.
A black gossamer scarf was tied around her neck gingerly and suspended over her back to hide the tattoos that would attain perpetual interrogations and tirades of contemptible defamation.
Her inferiors lowered a corset over her bare body, evading her tarnished skin in fear of being reprimanded sternly. She ceased to breath as they linked it together, rebuffing circulation, let alone breath.
They merely gesticulated; an aberration that would not be omitted, but neither a movement to gain impeachment. She mimicked her mother's scowl which was enough for the tsunami of apologies to commence. Drusilla narrowed her eyes, glaring at the Mancini staff with aversion; but unable to enunciate through the bindings.
Hours later they had concluded the dress, the hems, the decoration, the fitting. Drusilla had grown weary of the maid's quarters and demurred salutation, punctiliously, of course.
She kept a constant, determined drift down the halls that were devoid of colour, but luxurious and abundant in history of the Mancini line. The colossal marble columns, moving imagery of her ancestors in oil paintings, lavish rugs amongst the granite floors and her unfit stoicism seemed incessant.
She could hear her mother's lax cackle penetrating the walls, the coerced chuckle of her father. She often meditated on how they endured their indifferent companionship for so many years. There would be seconds where she longed for a family like Jinx's. The loving, easy going wizards without a chip on their shoulders. But she was cemented, and as her father would preach, “Made the best of it.â€Â
The winding hallway came to its abrupt boundary. The overworked house elf stumbled into Drusilla and quickly picked itself up, smoothing out the ends of her velvet evening gown. She took a deep breath, her jaw tensing tightly; nearly protruding from the skin as it often would. She extended her hand to the twisting staircase where not only her parents, but Jinx sat awaiting her presence. Her wrist featured a diamond bracelet, and when she slowly took the steps leading to her demise a hidden green panel of her dress would flash elegantly.
She couldn't take her eyes from Jinx, the first genuine smile in months curling her lips as he stood at the bottom, his arm extended as if its only objective was to embrace hers. He was handsome, and to Drusilla, a picture worth far more than 1,000 words. His suit, his tied back hair, his class that was normally hidden comforted her. Her mother and father cynically whispered between themselves; their pessimistic ways hindered by the love of the youths.
When she reached Jinx, she amicably placed her arm around his; abiding his movements. Neither of the two were sure what happened that night. They did not dare speak out of turn and presented themselves authoritatively; as if their engagement did not go beyond an executive agreement.
The night of trials neared its end, leaving the two side by side on an elevated fainting couch where they looked upon Tripp and Sylvania pleadingly, their fingers entwined, their bodies close.
Tripp peered down his nose at Drusilla, his eyes never leaving hers, and Sylvania's never leaving Jinx's. The two had known better than to look away, and confidently basked in the penetrating, testing stares.
Tripp dominantly spoke with the backing of Sylvania who never left his arm, "The two of you are forbidden from any form of contact."
Her father's eyes pierced Drusilla's heart. She hadn't bothered to listen to the rest of the proclamation before her body tensed, her eyes straining to stay open as she clenched Jinx's hand to contain her anger, angst and disappointment. Jinx's grasp was equal, but not quite as intense; as if he had heard what she had not.
She refused to look at Jinx as she slowly uncoiled her fingers from his; the only things in her eyes were the reflections of her parents. Their voices were cold and apathetic. Her mother's tantalizing scowl, her father's diplomatic grace. She couldn't feel her heart, her legs, and for the first time her mind blanked. This was the feeling she had strived for in her magic, and only now did she feel it.
For a moment she felt her long suppressed emotions surfacing; forcing the breath from her in what she learned was a foolish scoff. Her father's eyes descended upon her as if she were a mere child, his disenchantment evident.
"Dear, dear, Drusilla, we do not accept pouting in our home."
He stood from his chair, his wooden walking stick hitting the floor tortuously, her body jolting and her eyes stapling themselves shut.
She could feel the tenseness in Jinx, but beneath it the warmth and solace that she grew to admire. Her hair shrouded her face, her eyes prying to the right as she struggled to see her beau as if it would be the last time she would feel him. He bowed and turned, much as Drusilla would in the following month, and left silently.
--
Yeah, Jinx is her future husband. Her parents basically told her that she couldn't see him for three months as a trial to see if they will remain loyal to eachother. Marriages in the Mancini family are generally arranged, but Drusilla met Sinclair at Hogwarts and fell in love - not with him, though she was confused about that for awhile, but because he's a dark wizard of sorts, and she was using him to learn about things Hogwarts won't teach her. Anyway, here's some more:
http://forums.wohp.net/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=2557
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
No, not really. If I'm denied will I be contacted with why and be allowed to reapply?
Thanks!
