First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
My gaming career started when my father bought for me my first NES system, complete with a Super Mario Bros./Duck Hunt game, a big orange gun that “CLICKED” very loudly when you pulled the trigger, and the game Astyanax, which would become my first addiction in life. I couldn’t have been older than six. As a young pre-teen who earned his own money mowing lawns, I bought my first console on my own. It was a Sony Playstation, and the game I purchased with it was Final Fantasy 8. I was hooked to the Final Fantasy title after that, and started scooping up every game labeled an “RPG.” World of Warcraft was the first game I ever played that allowed me to create and actually “roleplay” my own character. Since, I’ve dabbled in D20 games, other MMO’s, even story-based roleplaying games, but WoW has been the only one I keep coming back to.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I was born a citizen of the United States in the town of Amarillo, Texas on the 5th of December, 1986. My primary language is English.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I have a very dear friend, who just prior to the original release of World of Warcraft was also a roommate and even my manager where we worked. He was very excited about the upcoming game, having anticipated it for several years. It was all he talked about. I mean night, day, at work, at home, at lunch even, with food still in his mouth! So of course, he got me started on Warcraft 3, where I fell in love with the lore of the game. Later, he let me roll the very first Vortok, an orc shaman of course, on his Beta account, and that, as they say, was that.
What made you seek our server over others?:
I wish I could give a more elaborate answer here, but it’s simply Kretol. All Kretol…
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Blood and Thunder! Conflict builds character. It also builds characters, and the world of Warcraft is a world steeped in conflict and abundant in rich characters. That doesn’t mean I do not enjoy sitting my orc down around a campfire with his brothers in arms to swap war stories, tell jokes, and pass around the grog. However, if their camp is ambushed from enemies in the dark, so much the better.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I am a die hard, green-skin loving, orc player and have been since my first experience playing WC3. As a race, they value the same virtues I do: Strength, Independence, Pride, and above all, Honor.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I expect roleplay. I expect not to see “l33t” speak, characters that do not/should not exist in the world of Warcraft, or blatantly non-RP’ish character names. I expect competent roleplayers who know the lore of the game. Basically, I expect a roleplayer’s haven from retail WoW. And, I expect the other players to expect the same of me, so that I know I will not be disappointed.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
My love for Kretol aside, I wouldn’t bother coming to this server, or any private server, if it didn’t hold promise for, as I said above, being a WoW roleplayer’s haven from retail. I like that everyone is expected to be familiar with the lore of the game and to stay within the confines of it’s very diverse world, while at the same time, allowing players to fully experience their character and all the possibilities that could happen to it in its life.
Did you know that we have a Mentor Program? It's entirely voluntary and you as a new player can sign up for it right now in your introduction! Are you interested in signing up to be assigned a Mentor? If so, say so here (Please enter at least "Yes" or "No"):
Yes, please!
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 grassfire had become a looming wall of red and orange expanding from horizon to horizon across the vast plains of the Northern Barrens; the smoke, black as night, billowed up to the blue heavens above. It was beautiful to behold for Vortok. Fire had always been Vortok’s favorite of the elements he called upon in battle. Not because it was effective, or efficient, or even because it made his seared opponents smell of pork, his favorite food. Vor favored Fire because he understood it intimately. In his mind, the mind of a shaman, Fire existed everywhere; it was life, it was movement. Yes, the conditions had to be right for flame to manifest on this plane, the realm of flesh and earth, but it was always there, in everything. Water would freeze and could not flow without the essence of Fire existing within it. Without heat the very Air itself would freeze, and all living things, flora and fauna alike, would perish. Even the Earth had Fire at its core. The Cataclysm had proven that. And the soul… Vortok knew firsthand what happens to a soul when its Fire is extinguished. He remembered the feeling, the lifelessness and emptiness of an entire people without their fire. He remembered not caring that their captors were soft and weak, not being angry at his elders for their silence, or the strong for their idleness, for neither he, nor any of his people had any Fire left to move their spirit. They had become prisoners without even the need of chains. The Blood of Mannoroth had burned the Fire out the orcs, and they had been left cold, lifeless husks.
But that was then, and now here he was so many years later, staring at a most dominating display of this element Vortok had ever seen, as fate would have it. For his being here could only be explained as the workings of Fate. Four days ago he had been home, in Orgrimmar. He loved his city, but everything was wrong. Garrosh had deemed the other races of the Horde untrustworthy, and now the Kor’kron Guard ran amuck, no better than a gang of thugs, bullies with full permissions to exercise Garrosh’s will as they saw fit. He had been riding past a group of these thugs harassing a family of goblins when everything went awry. He should have kept riding; goblins meant little to him. He saw them as lesser beings than orcs. They were shrewd, greedy, and their reckless technologies had been known to explode, taking orc warriors, men and women of true worth, with them. And yet, it bothered him how these orcs were behaving. They outnumbered the small family three to one, and for size and strength there was no comparison. Their bloodlust was upon them and Vor tried not to watch as they savagely beat and mocked the weaker race. There was no honor in this, no justice being, only the strong abusing the weak. But when the the big male, a brute who towered over Vortok himself, tried to make off with a young female goblin, the daughter, Vor assumed, something in him snapped. In one quick motion, Vor pulled his axe and swept it down, severing the large orc’s arm at the elbow, the fist on the other end of it keeping its grip tight on the poor girl’s torn blouse. His next motion, bringing the axe up and backhanding the amputee, sent the still stunned orc sprawling on his back, but exposed Vortok to the grasping hands of another Kor’kron, a female. As she attempted to drag him from the back of his black wolf, the faithful mount grabbed the woman’s shoulder and drug her to the ground, shaking her as if she were nothing more than a cloth sack. Yet, she was an orc woman, and battle was in her blood. She punched up into the wolf’s belly, the long blades of her fist-weapon penetrated deep into the creature as she ripped its stomach open, spilling its entrails. The sound the beast made was enough to throw Vortok into a rage. All he could see was red as he leapt from the saddle into the crowd of Kor’kron. The elements must have found his cause worthy indeed, for effortlessly he cast bolts of lightning while weaving fire and ice into the very sinew of his attackers. Unfortunately, they had the numbers and a particularly well aimed blow to his skull sent the red world cascading into blackness. When he came to, he was lashed to a whipping post. His wolf, more friend than mount, was trussed up in the tree before him with flies covering its bloody mouth and the gaping gash that had been its belly.
“You’re awake. Good.” Vor pulled his eyes from the gory scene in the tree to the voice that addressed him. It was the woman. The orc who disemboweled his ride. Her shoulder was bandaged and she held a coiled whip, which she now uncoiled with a single snap. It wasn’t the whip he looked at though, it was the smirk on her face. “Grumnak wanted to kill you. Still wants to kill you, actually. You took his sword arm, ya know? Well, half of it anyways” she cackled, “But I have a better punishment in mind for you. The Horde would not serve to lose such a fierce fighter.” Vortok said nothing, nor did he utter a sound as she administered his lashings. She didn’t whip his back alone, but up and down his legs as well. When it was over, she cut him loose and cackled her hideous laugh again as he stumbled and grasped the post for support. He wasn’t to stay on his feet long as two orc men grabbed him from behind and tossed him to the ground, face down. Then they laid a heavy wooden beam across his shoulders and bound his wrists tightly to it with rope. After, they drug him to his feet and spun him to face the she-orc and a hulking figure with a deep scowl and a stump for one arm. Grumnak. The healers hadn’t been able to repair him. Axes did a messier job than swords, he had always liked that about them. She had recoiled her whip and now handed it over to Grumnak. “Grummy here, and our two friends will be escorting you through the Barrens to the Chasm.” Vortok grinned against the murder in the large male’s eyes as the woman continued, “Garrosh has decided we need to control that point and has instructed for a fortress to be built there which will also serve as a bridge. You will help in the construction as a common peon. Upon completion, you will be redeemed for your crimes against your people and allowed to return to your position as battle shaman.” Vor spit in the dirt, his crimes against his people? The hypocrisy. “Defiant still, Vortok?” The woman sneered at him, “Well…let’s see if we can’t teach you some humility over the next few months.”
And that is how he came to be standing between a raging wildfire spread across the plains, and the Crossroads. The direction of the wind did not favor the Horde outpost today, and the inferno drew ever nearer. Vor sighed. Perhaps everything was wrong under Garrosh’s rule, but he still lived to serve the Horde and serve he would. Kneeling on one knee, he pulled a wooden stake carved in flames from a satchel at his waist and slammed it into the ground. Closing his eyes, he called upon the element of Fire, his element. “Find my cause worthy…” he prayed, “I beseech you… give me control, allow me to wield your magnificent power…” It was always like this with the elements. He did not make demands to, nor manipulate knowledge of, or enslave the elements. He asked them to grant him their power. It was the only way with them. “Please… for my people.” The grass around the totem began to smolder and smoke as the carved flames started to glow. “Yes… help me save them…” The grassfire raced onward, buffeting him with intense heat. “For my people,” he muttered, “for the Horde!” Suddenly the flames stopped, as if frozen. Vortok would have searched the skies for a flash of bronze thinking time itself had frozen were it not for the cloud of smoke continuing to rise and blot out the sun. “Thank you…” Vor seized control of the sudden torrent of writhing heat he could now feel with his spirit. The fire was larger than any flame he had dealt with before, but it was alright. The elements had allowed him this. He threw his hands in the and with a deafening roar, the grassfire swirled upwards into a large cyclone. It loomed over the shaman for a moment before he thrust his hands down, sending the vortex spiraling down into the totem, leaving behind chard, smoking plains and the acrid stench of smoke, which was already vanishing in the wind. Vor picked up his totem and held it in his palm, watching the glow die. Fire was his element. He understood it better than any other. His people would not lose their fire again, not if he could help it, but neither could he allow it to be burnt out again. He slipped the totem back in its satchel and turned towards his captors. None of them made a move to retie him to the beam, from which they had cut him so he could save the outpost. Not even Grumnak, who staring down at his own feet, let the whip drop. He then turned towards Orgrimmar. It was time to go home. Garrosh and his goons had to be stopped. His people had to be protected. The Horde had to survive.
My gaming career started when my father bought for me my first NES system, complete with a Super Mario Bros./Duck Hunt game, a big orange gun that “CLICKED” very loudly when you pulled the trigger, and the game Astyanax, which would become my first addiction in life. I couldn’t have been older than six. As a young pre-teen who earned his own money mowing lawns, I bought my first console on my own. It was a Sony Playstation, and the game I purchased with it was Final Fantasy 8. I was hooked to the Final Fantasy title after that, and started scooping up every game labeled an “RPG.” World of Warcraft was the first game I ever played that allowed me to create and actually “roleplay” my own character. Since, I’ve dabbled in D20 games, other MMO’s, even story-based roleplaying games, but WoW has been the only one I keep coming back to.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I was born a citizen of the United States in the town of Amarillo, Texas on the 5th of December, 1986. My primary language is English.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
I have a very dear friend, who just prior to the original release of World of Warcraft was also a roommate and even my manager where we worked. He was very excited about the upcoming game, having anticipated it for several years. It was all he talked about. I mean night, day, at work, at home, at lunch even, with food still in his mouth! So of course, he got me started on Warcraft 3, where I fell in love with the lore of the game. Later, he let me roll the very first Vortok, an orc shaman of course, on his Beta account, and that, as they say, was that.
What made you seek our server over others?:
I wish I could give a more elaborate answer here, but it’s simply Kretol. All Kretol…
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Blood and Thunder! Conflict builds character. It also builds characters, and the world of Warcraft is a world steeped in conflict and abundant in rich characters. That doesn’t mean I do not enjoy sitting my orc down around a campfire with his brothers in arms to swap war stories, tell jokes, and pass around the grog. However, if their camp is ambushed from enemies in the dark, so much the better.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
I am a die hard, green-skin loving, orc player and have been since my first experience playing WC3. As a race, they value the same virtues I do: Strength, Independence, Pride, and above all, Honor.
What are your expectations of this server?:
I expect roleplay. I expect not to see “l33t” speak, characters that do not/should not exist in the world of Warcraft, or blatantly non-RP’ish character names. I expect competent roleplayers who know the lore of the game. Basically, I expect a roleplayer’s haven from retail WoW. And, I expect the other players to expect the same of me, so that I know I will not be disappointed.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
My love for Kretol aside, I wouldn’t bother coming to this server, or any private server, if it didn’t hold promise for, as I said above, being a WoW roleplayer’s haven from retail. I like that everyone is expected to be familiar with the lore of the game and to stay within the confines of it’s very diverse world, while at the same time, allowing players to fully experience their character and all the possibilities that could happen to it in its life.
Did you know that we have a Mentor Program? It's entirely voluntary and you as a new player can sign up for it right now in your introduction! Are you interested in signing up to be assigned a Mentor? If so, say so here (Please enter at least "Yes" or "No"):
Yes, please!
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 grassfire had become a looming wall of red and orange expanding from horizon to horizon across the vast plains of the Northern Barrens; the smoke, black as night, billowed up to the blue heavens above. It was beautiful to behold for Vortok. Fire had always been Vortok’s favorite of the elements he called upon in battle. Not because it was effective, or efficient, or even because it made his seared opponents smell of pork, his favorite food. Vor favored Fire because he understood it intimately. In his mind, the mind of a shaman, Fire existed everywhere; it was life, it was movement. Yes, the conditions had to be right for flame to manifest on this plane, the realm of flesh and earth, but it was always there, in everything. Water would freeze and could not flow without the essence of Fire existing within it. Without heat the very Air itself would freeze, and all living things, flora and fauna alike, would perish. Even the Earth had Fire at its core. The Cataclysm had proven that. And the soul… Vortok knew firsthand what happens to a soul when its Fire is extinguished. He remembered the feeling, the lifelessness and emptiness of an entire people without their fire. He remembered not caring that their captors were soft and weak, not being angry at his elders for their silence, or the strong for their idleness, for neither he, nor any of his people had any Fire left to move their spirit. They had become prisoners without even the need of chains. The Blood of Mannoroth had burned the Fire out the orcs, and they had been left cold, lifeless husks.
But that was then, and now here he was so many years later, staring at a most dominating display of this element Vortok had ever seen, as fate would have it. For his being here could only be explained as the workings of Fate. Four days ago he had been home, in Orgrimmar. He loved his city, but everything was wrong. Garrosh had deemed the other races of the Horde untrustworthy, and now the Kor’kron Guard ran amuck, no better than a gang of thugs, bullies with full permissions to exercise Garrosh’s will as they saw fit. He had been riding past a group of these thugs harassing a family of goblins when everything went awry. He should have kept riding; goblins meant little to him. He saw them as lesser beings than orcs. They were shrewd, greedy, and their reckless technologies had been known to explode, taking orc warriors, men and women of true worth, with them. And yet, it bothered him how these orcs were behaving. They outnumbered the small family three to one, and for size and strength there was no comparison. Their bloodlust was upon them and Vor tried not to watch as they savagely beat and mocked the weaker race. There was no honor in this, no justice being, only the strong abusing the weak. But when the the big male, a brute who towered over Vortok himself, tried to make off with a young female goblin, the daughter, Vor assumed, something in him snapped. In one quick motion, Vor pulled his axe and swept it down, severing the large orc’s arm at the elbow, the fist on the other end of it keeping its grip tight on the poor girl’s torn blouse. His next motion, bringing the axe up and backhanding the amputee, sent the still stunned orc sprawling on his back, but exposed Vortok to the grasping hands of another Kor’kron, a female. As she attempted to drag him from the back of his black wolf, the faithful mount grabbed the woman’s shoulder and drug her to the ground, shaking her as if she were nothing more than a cloth sack. Yet, she was an orc woman, and battle was in her blood. She punched up into the wolf’s belly, the long blades of her fist-weapon penetrated deep into the creature as she ripped its stomach open, spilling its entrails. The sound the beast made was enough to throw Vortok into a rage. All he could see was red as he leapt from the saddle into the crowd of Kor’kron. The elements must have found his cause worthy indeed, for effortlessly he cast bolts of lightning while weaving fire and ice into the very sinew of his attackers. Unfortunately, they had the numbers and a particularly well aimed blow to his skull sent the red world cascading into blackness. When he came to, he was lashed to a whipping post. His wolf, more friend than mount, was trussed up in the tree before him with flies covering its bloody mouth and the gaping gash that had been its belly.
“You’re awake. Good.” Vor pulled his eyes from the gory scene in the tree to the voice that addressed him. It was the woman. The orc who disemboweled his ride. Her shoulder was bandaged and she held a coiled whip, which she now uncoiled with a single snap. It wasn’t the whip he looked at though, it was the smirk on her face. “Grumnak wanted to kill you. Still wants to kill you, actually. You took his sword arm, ya know? Well, half of it anyways” she cackled, “But I have a better punishment in mind for you. The Horde would not serve to lose such a fierce fighter.” Vortok said nothing, nor did he utter a sound as she administered his lashings. She didn’t whip his back alone, but up and down his legs as well. When it was over, she cut him loose and cackled her hideous laugh again as he stumbled and grasped the post for support. He wasn’t to stay on his feet long as two orc men grabbed him from behind and tossed him to the ground, face down. Then they laid a heavy wooden beam across his shoulders and bound his wrists tightly to it with rope. After, they drug him to his feet and spun him to face the she-orc and a hulking figure with a deep scowl and a stump for one arm. Grumnak. The healers hadn’t been able to repair him. Axes did a messier job than swords, he had always liked that about them. She had recoiled her whip and now handed it over to Grumnak. “Grummy here, and our two friends will be escorting you through the Barrens to the Chasm.” Vortok grinned against the murder in the large male’s eyes as the woman continued, “Garrosh has decided we need to control that point and has instructed for a fortress to be built there which will also serve as a bridge. You will help in the construction as a common peon. Upon completion, you will be redeemed for your crimes against your people and allowed to return to your position as battle shaman.” Vor spit in the dirt, his crimes against his people? The hypocrisy. “Defiant still, Vortok?” The woman sneered at him, “Well…let’s see if we can’t teach you some humility over the next few months.”
And that is how he came to be standing between a raging wildfire spread across the plains, and the Crossroads. The direction of the wind did not favor the Horde outpost today, and the inferno drew ever nearer. Vor sighed. Perhaps everything was wrong under Garrosh’s rule, but he still lived to serve the Horde and serve he would. Kneeling on one knee, he pulled a wooden stake carved in flames from a satchel at his waist and slammed it into the ground. Closing his eyes, he called upon the element of Fire, his element. “Find my cause worthy…” he prayed, “I beseech you… give me control, allow me to wield your magnificent power…” It was always like this with the elements. He did not make demands to, nor manipulate knowledge of, or enslave the elements. He asked them to grant him their power. It was the only way with them. “Please… for my people.” The grass around the totem began to smolder and smoke as the carved flames started to glow. “Yes… help me save them…” The grassfire raced onward, buffeting him with intense heat. “For my people,” he muttered, “for the Horde!” Suddenly the flames stopped, as if frozen. Vortok would have searched the skies for a flash of bronze thinking time itself had frozen were it not for the cloud of smoke continuing to rise and blot out the sun. “Thank you…” Vor seized control of the sudden torrent of writhing heat he could now feel with his spirit. The fire was larger than any flame he had dealt with before, but it was alright. The elements had allowed him this. He threw his hands in the and with a deafening roar, the grassfire swirled upwards into a large cyclone. It loomed over the shaman for a moment before he thrust his hands down, sending the vortex spiraling down into the totem, leaving behind chard, smoking plains and the acrid stench of smoke, which was already vanishing in the wind. Vor picked up his totem and held it in his palm, watching the glow die. Fire was his element. He understood it better than any other. His people would not lose their fire again, not if he could help it, but neither could he allow it to be burnt out again. He slipped the totem back in its satchel and turned towards his captors. None of them made a move to retie him to the beam, from which they had cut him so he could save the outpost. Not even Grumnak, who staring down at his own feet, let the whip drop. He then turned towards Orgrimmar. It was time to go home. Garrosh and his goons had to be stopped. His people had to be protected. The Horde had to survive.
![[Image: Da8y3O0.gif]](http://i.imgur.com/Da8y3O0.gif)
![[Image: WwDxJt9.gif]](http://i.imgur.com/WwDxJt9.gif)
![[Image: 11.jpg]](http://www.nodiatis.com/pub/11.jpg)
![[Image: 35jge0y.gif]](http://i58.tinypic.com/35jge0y.gif)