03-28-2011, 11:04 AM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player.:
As a player, I enjoy exploring, hanging out, and questing to other forms of play (except, perhaps, roleplay). I like to see what I can see, gather what I can gather, and otherwise just kick back and enjoy myself without too much pressure. I tend to be a bit shy while starting out, and I don't always take the initiative when there are other people in a tavern.
I've been gaming for a long time, but I only barely know the ropes of Warcraft. However, roleplay is my big thing, and I'm thinking (or hoping, rather) that, by roleplaying, I'll have more interaction with other people than with the environment.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
Well, I live in the United States, and I speak what I believe to be the North Midwest dialect of American English. I have taken about 10 years of Latin and I just began Japanese last semester.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
together. The version he gave me already used a private server, because, well, I'm not exactly loaded with cash. I've had a bit of fun off and on since then, though I've mostly been forced to solo.
What made you seek our server over others? (or How did you find us?):
Well, the private servers I have been playing on so far are more centered around PvP and grinding. I wanted to find a good roleplaying server, and, well, this one seemed promising.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I can do a little of anything, honestly. I tend to enjoy a more laid-back atmosphere, but I most of all try to keep the current plot (whatever it is) rolling, instead of suddenly stopping just when things are getting interesting in order to have a three-hour argument about the characters' favorite foods (it's happened before, and it was the most frustrating experience I've ever had in a roleplay).
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I don't have a favorite class because I haven't tried them all yet. I don't really have a favorite race, though so far I've stuck to humans and elves.
What are your expectations of this server?:
Well, I don't know, really. I'm going to try to come in without expectations and with an open mind, and see what things are like. Though, I at least expect people to be courteous to n00bs such as myself.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
The rule I like best? Hmm… I think I like the maturity rule the best. So often, I run into problems with grown men and women who behave as though they're five years old. They turn every little thing into a major problem, blame their troubles on everyone else, and otherwise assume that they are the only person that matters. I've had no end of trouble with such people, and have always wanted a rule that tries to get others to act their age.
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!:
(I don't think I clarified myself properly last time. I am referencing a ghost story that I saw on an anime, but the character and all of her interactions with the other characters in this story are mine. First, I will put brackets around the parts that I am paraphrasing, and then I will add a citation at the end of my story, MLA style. If you prefer APA, I can do that, too.)
The Minstrel's Tale
It was nearing evening, even faster than the lone traveler was nearing Stormwind. And faster than that, fat thunderclouds were approaching. When they hit the sides of the nearby mountains, they would be forced to drop their load on top of anything that didn't find shelter, including wandering minstrels.
Shiloh, of course, was the minstrel in question. Though to say she was a minstrel was somewhat inaccurate—though she was skilled in the minstrel arts, her “occupation†changed as the need required. Sometimes she was a storyteller, and at other times a bard; when soliciting a church or particularly religious place for shelter, she was a traveling nun. Once, she had even introduced herself as a chronicler. She traveled the world alone, regardless of the territory, bringing a little bit of cheer (and sometimes information) to those who needed it.
Big, heavy raindrops began to fall around her, slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed. Within five minutes, it became a heavy downpour. Around that time, the sound of trumpets bounced off the surrounding mountainsides, their echoes signaling the gate to Stormwind was closing for the night. Knowing she would not be getting in that night, Shiloh left the road in order to find a little shelter from the rain.
None of the trees in the bordering forest were large enough to keep her relatively dry, but Shiloh was not a stranger to these parts. She knew that there were cottages nearby, small houses of woodcutters, farmers, and the like. It wasn't long before she saw a light gleaming through the sheets of rain, a light shining through the slats in a window shutter. Clutching her hood over her head so the wind couldn't blow it off, she made her way to the front door and knocked. The door opened cautiously at first, and Shiloh could see only a single eye peeking out.
“I apologize for the intrusion,†Shiloh told the eye, “but if you give me but a roof to sleep under tonight, I can pay with songs and tales for your little ones.†The door opened a bit more, revealing that the eye belonged to a woodsman with whom Shiloh was somewhat acquainted. She passed by this road often enough that she had become familiar with those who lived near it.
“Miss Shiloh! Come in, come in! The children have sang your last songs to exhaustion, and are in need of new ones to learn.†The minstrel gratefully stepped inside, where the wife of the household appeared and took her cloak. It was quickly hung to dry on a rack before the fire. Almost immediately, Shiloh was tackled about the legs by a boy and a girl, both no older than ten years of age.
“A story, Shiloh! Tell us a story!†they clamored, dragging her into a chair and climbing on her lap.
“Now, now,†the mother called, “Don't bother our guest before she's had a chance to rest and warm up! Would you like some warm mead, dear?â€Â
“Yes, please,†Shiloh answered, and a steaming mug was delivered into her hands. She nursed the mug for awhile to banish the chill from her fingers, then took a sip. There was nothing quite like the warm, sweet liquor on a cold or rainy day, as it seemed to comfort both the body and the soul. “Okay. I'm ready now. A story, you say? What sort of story?â€Â
“A story about a beautiful princess!†the daughter announced, right as her brother shouted, “A ghost story! Something really scary!â€Â
“Wait, wait! I can't tell both at once!†Shiloh laughed as the siblings began to get into an argument. “Why don't you play Rock-Linen-Shears for it?†After a few rounds, it was decided that Shiloh would tell a ghost story.
“{Well, I heard this story from a friend of mine. My friend knew a certain man, living in Goldshire. This man had a daughter, his only child. But one day, she was attacked by wolves and killed.
“Every day, the man would visit her grave to lay flowers on it. One day as he went to lay down the flowers, he saw a girl standing in front of another grave with a solemn expression. The next day, it was raining, but there was the girl, standing in front of the grave without even a cloak.
“ ‘What are you doing here?' the man asked, and held his cloak over her so she wouldn't get wet.
“ ‘I'm waiting for someone,' the girl replied. ‘I promised my father I would wait here until he finishes his work.'
“ ‘You promised…?' But after that, the girl said nothing, so he put his cloak around her and went home. He came back day after day, but she would answer no more of his questions. Her expression saddened him, so every day he started to think about how to make the girl smile. But no matter what he said, her expression never changed.
“But after awhile, something remarkable happened. As the man approached the graveyard with his flowers, he heard the girl's voice calling him.
“ ‘Mister! Thank you for all you've done! I can finally see my father tomorrow!' The sound of her voice and her smile were so lighthearted that he, too, couldn't help but feel very happy.
“ ‘Oh? That's great!' he said, sitting beside her, as they both smiled to each other. All's well that ends well, right?â€Â} Shiloh smiled and sat back in her chair, eyeing the children and wondering what they would say. The little girl smiled; she had liked the story. The son, however, did not seem so happy.
“Is that it?†the boy asked. He felt it was missing something. It didn't seem to be the ghost story he'd been hoping for.
“Oh, I almost forgot! {This story has an epilogue.} Ahem, where was I? Oh, right:
“{Many days passed after that. The man had not seen the girl since they had last spoken. But as he came to the graveyard, he saw a crowd of mourners surrounding the grave in front of which the girl had stood. Suddenly, he was very worried.
“ ‘What's wrong?' he cried, running over to them, ‘Did something happen to that girl?'
“ ‘Girl? What girl?' one of the mourners, a woman, asked. ‘The one who died was my husband.'
“And there, in front of the grave, the man saw a painting of the girl, smiling. The now-dead man had been a cleric, and he had had a daughter who died when she was very young. As it turned out, on the day of the girl's death, the cleric who was her father had wanted to be beside her in her last moments, when one of the nurses came into the ward.
“ ‘Sir! It's an emergency!' she had called, but the cleric, who was holding his daughter's hand as she lay on her death-bed, had asked if the nurse could find another cleric. But suddenly…
“ ‘Father…' the girl had whispered weakly to him, ‘Go. I'm fine… Please save those patients…'
“ ‘But…'
“ ‘I'll wait here until you finish your work,' she had said with a smile. ‘It's a promise.' Comforted by her words, the cleric agreed.
“ ‘Okay. Wait here,' he had said. ‘I'll be right back.' To this, his daughter agreed, and he let go of her hand. But the cleric did not get a chance to see his daughter again. Instead, he promised to her as she lay there, her lifeless body now growing cold, that he would work harder than before.
“Following his promise, he went on to save countless patients. And the girl always waited, until her father finished his work.} The end.â€Â
The boy and the girl looked at each other, then at once they let out a shriek, even as Shiloh laughed at the looks on their faces. Finally, it was time for the family to go to bed for the night. The mother herded the children upstairs as Shiloh set out her bedroll in front of the hearth. But the woodsman was still standing in the corner, as he had for the entire story.
“Aren't you going to go to bed?†Shiloh asked.
“I would but…†the man said, “But… my legs won't stop shaking…â€Â
Work Cited:
Sato, Junichi, and Takuya Igarashi, prods. "I Want to Meet the Ghost!" Ojamajo Doremi. TV Asahi. Nerima, Tokyo, 29 Aug. 1999. Anime4you.tv. 2010. Web. 27 Mar. 2011. <http://www.anime4you.tv/index.php?page=series&cat=doremi&episode=30&lang=2>
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I have an odd schedule, so I will be on only every once and awhile. Please don't wait around for me; if you need to keep the plot rolling, by all means do so.
As a player, I enjoy exploring, hanging out, and questing to other forms of play (except, perhaps, roleplay). I like to see what I can see, gather what I can gather, and otherwise just kick back and enjoy myself without too much pressure. I tend to be a bit shy while starting out, and I don't always take the initiative when there are other people in a tavern.
I've been gaming for a long time, but I only barely know the ropes of Warcraft. However, roleplay is my big thing, and I'm thinking (or hoping, rather) that, by roleplaying, I'll have more interaction with other people than with the environment.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?
Well, I live in the United States, and I speak what I believe to be the North Midwest dialect of American English. I have taken about 10 years of Latin and I just began Japanese last semester.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
together. The version he gave me already used a private server, because, well, I'm not exactly loaded with cash. I've had a bit of fun off and on since then, though I've mostly been forced to solo.
What made you seek our server over others? (or How did you find us?):
Well, the private servers I have been playing on so far are more centered around PvP and grinding. I wanted to find a good roleplaying server, and, well, this one seemed promising.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I can do a little of anything, honestly. I tend to enjoy a more laid-back atmosphere, but I most of all try to keep the current plot (whatever it is) rolling, instead of suddenly stopping just when things are getting interesting in order to have a three-hour argument about the characters' favorite foods (it's happened before, and it was the most frustrating experience I've ever had in a roleplay).
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I don't have a favorite class because I haven't tried them all yet. I don't really have a favorite race, though so far I've stuck to humans and elves.
What are your expectations of this server?:
Well, I don't know, really. I'm going to try to come in without expectations and with an open mind, and see what things are like. Though, I at least expect people to be courteous to n00bs such as myself.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
The rule I like best? Hmm… I think I like the maturity rule the best. So often, I run into problems with grown men and women who behave as though they're five years old. They turn every little thing into a major problem, blame their troubles on everyone else, and otherwise assume that they are the only person that matters. I've had no end of trouble with such people, and have always wanted a rule that tries to get others to act their age.
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!:
(I don't think I clarified myself properly last time. I am referencing a ghost story that I saw on an anime, but the character and all of her interactions with the other characters in this story are mine. First, I will put brackets around the parts that I am paraphrasing, and then I will add a citation at the end of my story, MLA style. If you prefer APA, I can do that, too.)
The Minstrel's Tale
It was nearing evening, even faster than the lone traveler was nearing Stormwind. And faster than that, fat thunderclouds were approaching. When they hit the sides of the nearby mountains, they would be forced to drop their load on top of anything that didn't find shelter, including wandering minstrels.
Shiloh, of course, was the minstrel in question. Though to say she was a minstrel was somewhat inaccurate—though she was skilled in the minstrel arts, her “occupation†changed as the need required. Sometimes she was a storyteller, and at other times a bard; when soliciting a church or particularly religious place for shelter, she was a traveling nun. Once, she had even introduced herself as a chronicler. She traveled the world alone, regardless of the territory, bringing a little bit of cheer (and sometimes information) to those who needed it.
Big, heavy raindrops began to fall around her, slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed. Within five minutes, it became a heavy downpour. Around that time, the sound of trumpets bounced off the surrounding mountainsides, their echoes signaling the gate to Stormwind was closing for the night. Knowing she would not be getting in that night, Shiloh left the road in order to find a little shelter from the rain.
None of the trees in the bordering forest were large enough to keep her relatively dry, but Shiloh was not a stranger to these parts. She knew that there were cottages nearby, small houses of woodcutters, farmers, and the like. It wasn't long before she saw a light gleaming through the sheets of rain, a light shining through the slats in a window shutter. Clutching her hood over her head so the wind couldn't blow it off, she made her way to the front door and knocked. The door opened cautiously at first, and Shiloh could see only a single eye peeking out.
“I apologize for the intrusion,†Shiloh told the eye, “but if you give me but a roof to sleep under tonight, I can pay with songs and tales for your little ones.†The door opened a bit more, revealing that the eye belonged to a woodsman with whom Shiloh was somewhat acquainted. She passed by this road often enough that she had become familiar with those who lived near it.
“Miss Shiloh! Come in, come in! The children have sang your last songs to exhaustion, and are in need of new ones to learn.†The minstrel gratefully stepped inside, where the wife of the household appeared and took her cloak. It was quickly hung to dry on a rack before the fire. Almost immediately, Shiloh was tackled about the legs by a boy and a girl, both no older than ten years of age.
“A story, Shiloh! Tell us a story!†they clamored, dragging her into a chair and climbing on her lap.
“Now, now,†the mother called, “Don't bother our guest before she's had a chance to rest and warm up! Would you like some warm mead, dear?â€Â
“Yes, please,†Shiloh answered, and a steaming mug was delivered into her hands. She nursed the mug for awhile to banish the chill from her fingers, then took a sip. There was nothing quite like the warm, sweet liquor on a cold or rainy day, as it seemed to comfort both the body and the soul. “Okay. I'm ready now. A story, you say? What sort of story?â€Â
“A story about a beautiful princess!†the daughter announced, right as her brother shouted, “A ghost story! Something really scary!â€Â
“Wait, wait! I can't tell both at once!†Shiloh laughed as the siblings began to get into an argument. “Why don't you play Rock-Linen-Shears for it?†After a few rounds, it was decided that Shiloh would tell a ghost story.
“{Well, I heard this story from a friend of mine. My friend knew a certain man, living in Goldshire. This man had a daughter, his only child. But one day, she was attacked by wolves and killed.
“Every day, the man would visit her grave to lay flowers on it. One day as he went to lay down the flowers, he saw a girl standing in front of another grave with a solemn expression. The next day, it was raining, but there was the girl, standing in front of the grave without even a cloak.
“ ‘What are you doing here?' the man asked, and held his cloak over her so she wouldn't get wet.
“ ‘I'm waiting for someone,' the girl replied. ‘I promised my father I would wait here until he finishes his work.'
“ ‘You promised…?' But after that, the girl said nothing, so he put his cloak around her and went home. He came back day after day, but she would answer no more of his questions. Her expression saddened him, so every day he started to think about how to make the girl smile. But no matter what he said, her expression never changed.
“But after awhile, something remarkable happened. As the man approached the graveyard with his flowers, he heard the girl's voice calling him.
“ ‘Mister! Thank you for all you've done! I can finally see my father tomorrow!' The sound of her voice and her smile were so lighthearted that he, too, couldn't help but feel very happy.
“ ‘Oh? That's great!' he said, sitting beside her, as they both smiled to each other. All's well that ends well, right?â€Â} Shiloh smiled and sat back in her chair, eyeing the children and wondering what they would say. The little girl smiled; she had liked the story. The son, however, did not seem so happy.
“Is that it?†the boy asked. He felt it was missing something. It didn't seem to be the ghost story he'd been hoping for.
“Oh, I almost forgot! {This story has an epilogue.} Ahem, where was I? Oh, right:
“{Many days passed after that. The man had not seen the girl since they had last spoken. But as he came to the graveyard, he saw a crowd of mourners surrounding the grave in front of which the girl had stood. Suddenly, he was very worried.
“ ‘What's wrong?' he cried, running over to them, ‘Did something happen to that girl?'
“ ‘Girl? What girl?' one of the mourners, a woman, asked. ‘The one who died was my husband.'
“And there, in front of the grave, the man saw a painting of the girl, smiling. The now-dead man had been a cleric, and he had had a daughter who died when she was very young. As it turned out, on the day of the girl's death, the cleric who was her father had wanted to be beside her in her last moments, when one of the nurses came into the ward.
“ ‘Sir! It's an emergency!' she had called, but the cleric, who was holding his daughter's hand as she lay on her death-bed, had asked if the nurse could find another cleric. But suddenly…
“ ‘Father…' the girl had whispered weakly to him, ‘Go. I'm fine… Please save those patients…'
“ ‘But…'
“ ‘I'll wait here until you finish your work,' she had said with a smile. ‘It's a promise.' Comforted by her words, the cleric agreed.
“ ‘Okay. Wait here,' he had said. ‘I'll be right back.' To this, his daughter agreed, and he let go of her hand. But the cleric did not get a chance to see his daughter again. Instead, he promised to her as she lay there, her lifeless body now growing cold, that he would work harder than before.
“Following his promise, he went on to save countless patients. And the girl always waited, until her father finished his work.} The end.â€Â
The boy and the girl looked at each other, then at once they let out a shriek, even as Shiloh laughed at the looks on their faces. Finally, it was time for the family to go to bed for the night. The mother herded the children upstairs as Shiloh set out her bedroll in front of the hearth. But the woodsman was still standing in the corner, as he had for the entire story.
“Aren't you going to go to bed?†Shiloh asked.
“I would but…†the man said, “But… my legs won't stop shaking…â€Â
Work Cited:
Sato, Junichi, and Takuya Igarashi, prods. "I Want to Meet the Ghost!" Ojamajo Doremi. TV Asahi. Nerima, Tokyo, 29 Aug. 1999. Anime4you.tv. 2010. Web. 27 Mar. 2011. <http://www.anime4you.tv/index.php?page=series&cat=doremi&episode=30&lang=2>
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I have an odd schedule, so I will be on only every once and awhile. Please don't wait around for me; if you need to keep the plot rolling, by all means do so.
