02-16-2012, 12:35 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
My name is Mike, and I enjoy writing short fantasy stories and roleplaying. I'm attracted to the colourfulness of fantasy worlds. Dwarves, dragons, mages... Real life is good and fun, but sometimes it feels so grey and dull, man!
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I come from Greece, so my primary language is Greek. But I speak English quite well, and have no trouble communicating with others - unless they don't speak English. :P
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I started playing one or two years into Vanilla with a friend of mine. Together we joined a "Recommended" population server, which happened to be a roleplaying one, and that's how I was introduced to RP. About a year later I started RPing actively and became a member of the server's community.
What made you seek our server over others? (Or how did you find us?):
I haven't played WoW for a good while, but I always enjoyed its setting and its lore, and my memories from RP are all fond ones. Unfortunately, my home server has kind of died down... most of my friends have quit the game or migrated to other servers, and I didn't feel like renewing my subscription to RP in a half-dead server. So, here I am!
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Do you mean like, random RP / planned events? Or what kind of characters I usually play?
I prefer long and intense storylines, so planned events are more to my liking, but the bulk of RP consists of random encounters, so they're at least just as important.
I don't have any trouble RPing anything. Usually my characters are either Average Joes or intermediate journeymen; I don't like being "Da Man", it stresses me.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Dwarves are my favorite race. I enjoy Norse mythology, and the dwarf smith brothers Brokk and Eitri are my two favorite characters. Usually when I make a character in a game new to me, it's a dwarf character (if the game has dwarves).
I have no favorite class. Warriors are good because you can RP them as anything, from farmer boys to gallant knights. Paladins have an awesome lore, and warlocks are very evocative.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I'm looking for good RPers and good people. There's no use being the former if you're not the latter, and I don't want to become a better RPer if it means becoming a worse person. Mostly I'm just hoping for a nice ride.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Maturity, respect, and tolerance help improve people. Unfortunately, there are always some who think the rules don't apply to them, but luckily, they're never the majority... I think.
As a roleplayer and a hopeful storywriter, I appreciate that you made a mention of plagiarism. I would hate it if I came up with a great idea for a character or event and someone got away with basically stealing it. I'm sure most people would hate it just as much.
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!:
It's a little long, so I'll put it in quotes, and you can skip it if you want to:
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Not really, it's all up to you guys now. Fingers crossed!
My name is Mike, and I enjoy writing short fantasy stories and roleplaying. I'm attracted to the colourfulness of fantasy worlds. Dwarves, dragons, mages... Real life is good and fun, but sometimes it feels so grey and dull, man!
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I come from Greece, so my primary language is Greek. But I speak English quite well, and have no trouble communicating with others - unless they don't speak English. :P
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I started playing one or two years into Vanilla with a friend of mine. Together we joined a "Recommended" population server, which happened to be a roleplaying one, and that's how I was introduced to RP. About a year later I started RPing actively and became a member of the server's community.
What made you seek our server over others? (Or how did you find us?):
I haven't played WoW for a good while, but I always enjoyed its setting and its lore, and my memories from RP are all fond ones. Unfortunately, my home server has kind of died down... most of my friends have quit the game or migrated to other servers, and I didn't feel like renewing my subscription to RP in a half-dead server. So, here I am!
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Do you mean like, random RP / planned events? Or what kind of characters I usually play?
I prefer long and intense storylines, so planned events are more to my liking, but the bulk of RP consists of random encounters, so they're at least just as important.
I don't have any trouble RPing anything. Usually my characters are either Average Joes or intermediate journeymen; I don't like being "Da Man", it stresses me.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Dwarves are my favorite race. I enjoy Norse mythology, and the dwarf smith brothers Brokk and Eitri are my two favorite characters. Usually when I make a character in a game new to me, it's a dwarf character (if the game has dwarves).
I have no favorite class. Warriors are good because you can RP them as anything, from farmer boys to gallant knights. Paladins have an awesome lore, and warlocks are very evocative.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I'm looking for good RPers and good people. There's no use being the former if you're not the latter, and I don't want to become a better RPer if it means becoming a worse person. Mostly I'm just hoping for a nice ride.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Maturity, respect, and tolerance help improve people. Unfortunately, there are always some who think the rules don't apply to them, but luckily, they're never the majority... I think.
As a roleplayer and a hopeful storywriter, I appreciate that you made a mention of plagiarism. I would hate it if I came up with a great idea for a character or event and someone got away with basically stealing it. I'm sure most people would hate it just as much.
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!:
It's a little long, so I'll put it in quotes, and you can skip it if you want to:
Quote:When the new day dawned over the mountainous Hinterlands, Grallin Greyfeather, of Clan Wildhammer, awoke and sat up on his stone dwarven bed. He sat quiet for a few moments, his mind wrestling with something. He was dimly aware that he was supposed to be excited about something today, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. Had it been some dream he'd dreamt? No - Grallin hardly ever dreamt, and when he did, he hardly remembered it the next day. Had there been some letter his father had received, speaking of his uncle's return from the Twilight Highlands? He doubted it. There had been weeks since anyone had seen Gryffen Greyfeather, and rumour had it had he had been slain by the Twilight's Hammer during a skirmish done at the behest of Keegan Firebeard. His father was preparing to leave for the Highlands on the morrow, to find out what truly had happened of his brother.
What was it, then, that he was supposed to be excited about?
The answer came to him as he was dressing up, five minutes later: it was his birthday. Today, as of forty years ago, Maelda Merryhill had given birth to the child of Grulden Greyfeather, a healthy young dwarfling with brown hair and eyes. Today, as of forty years ago, he had been given his name: Grallin, after his grandfather, a brave gryphon master who had perished during the Second War. Today, as of forty years ago, his family had celebrated... today, as of forty years ago... forty years...
Then it dawned on him: today it was not merely his birthday, but his fortieth birthday. As of today, he was a dwarf grown, an adult. That was why Grulden Greyfeather had postponed taking to the Highlands for so many weeks; he did not want to miss his only son's coming-of-age. From henceforth, he would be a dwarf standing proud for Clan Greyfeather and for Clan Wildhammer.
Grallin stepped out of his small bedroom, fully dressed and ready for breakfast, and went to the kitchen. There he found his mother putting a loaf of moist cornbread, a slice of dwarven mild cheese and two juicy red apples on a stone plate. When he entered, she looked over her shoulder, and smiled at her dwarf son for a brief moment.
It was a smile happy and sad at the same time.
"You've grown into your father, only younger." she said.
"Dad has a longer beard," Grallin observed and sat on the kitchen table.
"You're younger," she said, turning back to making breakfast. "You'll grow a magnificent beard in time, I know. Your grandfather had a beard twice as long as himself. He used to carry his war-hatchet, his throwing hammers, his crossbow, his blunderbuss and his breakfast inside it."
Grallin smiled. From what he remembered of his grandfather, he truly did have an enormous beard. Some said he used to hide his gryphon inside it. He didn't plan to grow it that long, but he wouldn't tell his mother that. Instead he said: "his breakfast must have been quite hairy."
His mother chuckled. "If it was, he never complained." She poured half a pint of dwarven stout into a mug, then brought the breakfast over to him. The moist cornbread, the cheese, the apples all looked delicious. He had a bite of the cornbread, some of the cheese, and one of the apples. When he drank some of the stout, he looked up to his mother, to find her smiling at him again. "Happy birthday, Grallin." she whispered, and her voice was brim with joy and sorrow. "And a happy coming-of-age."
After Grallin ate his breakfast, he decided to take a stroll in the woods around Aerie Peak, as he often liked to do when he had free time. He hoped his mother would be in higher spirits when he came back. Grallin thought he understood her concerns: coming of age meant that he would likely be summoned to fight at some war or some other rather soon, and the green boys were the first to go in the fray. But Grallin was no green boy; he had been training with the axe and the hammer since he was sixteen, and his aim with guns and crossbows was as good as any marksman's. Plus, he had been taking gryphon-riding lessons from his uncle Gryffen since his thirty-fifth birthday, and on open sky he felt as much at ease as on solid ground. But nobody could blame a mother for loving her son.
He decided to give her some space.
Grallin had never been outside of the Hinterlands, but he was positive that no place in Azeroth was as beautiful as his homeland. Gryphon riders who returned to the Aerie Peak from war often spoke of Elwynn, of Loch Modan, of Ashenvale and Moonglade and Feralas. And they all agreed that, wondrous these forests might be, they couldn't compare to the Hinterlands. He loved it all; the tall pine trees with their falling pines, the rocky hills to the south, the flowery grass and soil below, the shrubs of wildvines and fadeleaves and liferoots, and the sky above, where gold gryphons soared. As he wandered between the trees, he looked up, hoping to see some of them fly overhead just now, but none came into sight.
The wars have taken our gryphons away, he thought. The Legion and the Scourge and the Hammer. And the Horde; the Horde, the Horde, the Horde. He sat down under a tree and looked at the sky, hoping, against all hope, to see a gold mane fly off into the distance, even if it was just a gryphon master's beast. He looked, and looked, and looked. And time passed.
"Staring at the sky again, are you?" said a voice, sometime later. The voice woke Grallin from his reverie and made him look around to find its source. And there, leaning against a tree to his left stood his father, Grulden Greyfeather, dressed, as always, in green forest leather armour and leaning on his war-hatchet. Clothing and weapon aside, Grallin's mother was right: the boy looked mighty like his father. They had the same long, wild brown hair, the same pair of hawklike brown eyes, the same big nose. And on his back, Grallin knew, Grulden Greyfeather had the same markings that Grallin would have one day. Their only difference was the beard-size: Grulden's beard was at least twice as long as his son's.
"I like the sky," Grallin told his father. "And you like it too."
Grulden grunted.
"The sky's a battlefield, like earth and sea. It helps us, because no one can fly as well as us. But staring at it does you as much good as staring at your own shoes." He regarded his son for a while. "Get up. And follow me."
Here it goes, thought Grallin, as he stood up and followed his father through a narrow trail between the trees. He felt his excitement rising, for he knew what was coming next, where his father was getting him and why. They walked for a while, Grulden leading the way, Grallin following closely. They were heading south.
After a while they stopped. They were now standing outside a small cavern, one which Grallin had explored over a hundred times in his youth. It looked no different than the last time he had been here.
His father turned around, looked sternly at him, and spoke. "You know why we're here, I believe," he said.
"Yes." said Grallin.
"And do you think you're up for the task?"
"Uncle Gryffen always said so." And it was true.
"Doesn't he say so anymore?"
Grallin hesitated. His father Grulden narrowed his eyes.
"Until I find Gryffen's body and bring it back to Aerie Peak," he said, "you will say 'Uncle Gryffen always says so'. Do you understand?"
"Yes," said the boy quickly. "It's just, I haven't seen him for so long. That's what I meant."
"Good. Now get in the cavern."
The cavern was small, dark and damp, and consisted of two rooms: the one that Grallin was currently in, as empty as a troll's head, and another one, connected to the first from the right. His heart beating faster in anticipation, Grallin took the turn. This room was smaller than the former, but it was not empty.
Grallin walked to the middle of the room and beheld a young gryphon lying opposite of him, looking at the dwarf with big, hazel eyes. It was a goldmane, Grallin's favourite kind of gryphon, with strong golden wings and a proud golden head. Its beak and talons were very sharp. Good, Grallin thought as he looked at the beast. He's a fighter. After a few moments of staring at one another, the gryphon shrieked and jerked its head upward. The dwarf took that as a good sign; the gryphon's voice was strong and intimidating. On the battlefield, he will scare even dragons to death. He approached the beast tentatively. It did not move, only eyed him with its round hazel orbs as he got closer and closer, extended his arms, and stroked its beak with a trembling hand. Gryphons knew fear when they saw it; they inspired it in creatures earth-bound and air-borne alike, and the quivering in Grallin's hand was excitement, not fear.
He heard his father cough nervously behind him. "I haven't said it yet," he told his son, all the former rigidity in his voice now gone, "but happy birthday. And a happy coming-of-age."
Grallin only smiled.
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Not really, it's all up to you guys now. Fingers crossed!
