06-17-2009, 07:17 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
Where to begin? In past RP experiences, I've dabbled all along the spectrum. I've had Dragons, Demons, Demon Hunters, poor fishermen who, for some reason, seem to get killed soon after their creation, haughty warlocks who suffer deserved deaths, and the typical, boring mage. These various experiences, I think, make me a better RP(er) in that, while Role Playing, I am able to view situations from multiple point of views. I try not to have my characters put on too many airs, but, after my poor fisherman experiences, I am not too fond of being a powerless nobody that everyone else can kill in an instant.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
The United States of America. English.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
My father had bought Warcraft: Orcs and Humans, and then proceeded to buy Warcraft II and Warcraft II Tides of Darkness. I eventually chanced upon them and started playing, and my love of strategy games was born. When they came out, I purchased Warcraft III Reign of Chaos and Warcraft III TFT. When I heard about WoW, I knew I had to buy it, and I did, the day after it was released.
What made you seek our server over others?:
To be honest, when I googled "world of warcraft private roleplay servers" this was the first one that came up. So, naturally, I clicked the link and began perusing the forums. After looking around for a bit, I decided to stick with this one, it must be good if it is at the top of my search results.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I think that I prefer tense RP(ing) situations that could easily lead to a fight/battle, but don't. Someone always gets angry in a RP battle, because no one wants to lose their character, so, I like when you almost get to the point of violence, but then everyone shouts at each other, perhaps makes a few rude gestures, but then storm out separately. The periodic tavern RP can be enjoyable as well, and RP with a great deal of deception and intrigue appeals to me greatly.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Night/Blood Elves. Mage. The Elves of WoW are my favorite race(s) to be because I have, for as long as I can remember, been fascinated with Elves. In nearly every single game/book/story/movie/etc they are involved with, the Elves always have an extremely rich and interesting history. Regardless of the setting, Elves and their history for whatever the topic is, fascinate me. My favorite class is the Mage because they are the ultimate practitioners of magic. Since magic plays such an important role in WoW, I cannot help but have a fascination with the people who wield it (mages/magi).
What are your expectations of this server?:
Fairly high based upon the requirement of a thorough introduction just to be able to create a server account. The forums also seem quite well set up, and, since this server was first on my google search results, I'm assuming it is good.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:"All players on this server are expected to be familiar with the history of Azeroth." This is my favorite rule because, if a problem arises over a character's existance or story conflicting with lore, the person who made the character cannot use ignorance as an excuse.
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 small part of something I have been working on for awhile, so I apologize if this was supposed to be something made up on the spot);
Treyûn Lìthrâm's eyes snapped open just as the first rays of sunlight entered the room. Throwing off the sheets to expose his bare torso to the slight chill of the room, he swung his legs around so that his feet touched the cold wooden floor. Noting that once again he could not recall what he had dreamt throughout the night, he lifted his arms toward the ceiling and yawned before standing. Treyûn's room was a perfect square, ten feet by ten feet, giving him adequate space for the essentials. Making his way to the wash basin sitting atop a small table, Treyûn glanced at the mirror fastened to the wall above the basin, which, in addition to the bed, and a small wardrobe, completed the room's furnishings. Standing at seven and sixty inches, he was tall for an Elf, his long, pointed ears sticking up out of his shoulder length golden blond hair, which was messy from his slumber. Reaching the basin, Treyûn cupped his hands in the ice cold water and splashed it on his face, causing a shiver to run down his spine, the last drudges of sleep leaving him as he felt the jolt of cold.
Ten minutes saw Treyûn's face and hands thoroughly washed, his hair returned to its regular straightness, every tangle and imperfection purged, and his teeth cleaned using salt and soda. Turning from the basin, he remade the bed so as to appease his mother, whom, by the smells wafting up to his room from the kitchen, was already awake. Stripping out of the thin, dark blue linen night pants he had slept in, Treyûn walked over to the wall opposite the door and tossed them into a chute built into the wall which lead to the washroom in the house's basement, where his mother would clean them later in the day. Walking back to the wash basin, Treyûn began inspecting his body, his bright green eyes keen for signs of the Azrìl'Thôk, the Heart Killer. The Azrìl'Thôk was a disease spread by tainted water that would infect the stomach as it festered there. After three days, it made the stomach unable to function and began to spread as it fed on tissue. The Azrìl'Thôk did not reveal its presence in the body until the fourth day and, for reasons no one yet new, always traveled in a direct path from the stomach to the heart, which is why it was so fatal, so Treyûn wished to take no chances. His body was nothing but lean muscle, his abdominals, pectorals, and biceps extremely defined, if to a lesser extent than that of a Human or Dwarf with equal muscle ratio to him. The amount of fat on Treyûn's body was so little, that every vein and muscle was distinct and visible, which was fortunate, for it would make the Azrìl'Thôk easier to detect. Those who knew what to look for could actually find signs of the Heart Killer on the second day, in the form of slightly swollen veins, something that would be unnoticeable to one with nearly any amount of body fat. Treyûn pressed the thumb and forefinger of his right hand down on the skin on either of the side of most of his veins, making their size easier to determine. Another factor aiding his search was the complete lack of hair on Treyûn's body, leaving little to obstruct a correct estimate of the vein size. After fifteen minutes of searching, he sighed in relief and began to dress, not wishing to miss breakfast, which his mother seemed to make more delicious every day.
Treyûn skipped the last step of the stairs as he descended and so landed on the hard wooden floor with a loud thud, having not yet fully achieved Elven grace. He was wearing almond colored breeches and a leaf green tunic with a simple leather belt around his waist, as well as a white linen undershirt, a small triangle of which could be seen just under his neck, and simple leather boots that were molded to his feet and reached the middle of his shins. As Treyûn entered the kitchen, his mother and younger sister looked at him, pausing in their activities. "Alduàthelorum, Nìthrul," said his sister Fêlya, greeting him in traditional Elvish, as was her wont, before returning to setting plates and fine, crystal glasses on the long, oak table.. Alduàthelorum, which means "Good morning" in the Elvish tongue, is a polite and traditional greeting but would be strange to Humans as it would translate to "Morning is good" in the Common tongue. Nìthrul, on the other hand, meant "Brother" and translated as such.
Bowing his head in acknowledgement, Treyûn followed Fêlya's lead and responded in their native tongue, "Alduàthelorum, Yithla." Good morning, Sister. Turning to his mother, who had paused to watch him after removing a loaf of freshly braked honey bread from the brick oven, Treyûn bowed and said, "Alduàthelorum, Velëzrä-Rimlef." Good morning, Life-Giver. His mother nodded to him and he grinned as he walked to the table, taking a seat in a high-backed oaken chair, finely carved with an intricate design of vines and leaves. Treyûn looked back to Fêlya as she finished setting the table, even preparing a fourth spot in case their father should return. Abandoning their flowing, beautiful speech for Common, which was more rugged and harsh, he inquired, "Did you sleep well Fêlya? I thought that I heard someone talking in the night."
Taking her own seat at the table, Fêlya fixed her mid-back length, blonde hair so that it would not interfere in the meal. Her sharp, hazel eyes wandered the simple kitchen for a few moments before she turned her attention to Treyûn, having to tilt her head up to look at him since she was only sixty inches tall, at best. Fêlya examined her brother for several more moments before she finally responded, "My apologies if I disturbed you, I must've been speaking in my sleep again." Biting her lip, Fêlya felt her cheeks heat in the embarrassment that any Elf unable to control their sleep state indefinitely would experience.
Their mother, the more mature image of her daughter but with blue eyes, slightly darker, wavy hair, and an inch or two taller, joined in the conversation as she began to set different dishes of food down on the table before her children, "Do not be ashamed, Fêlya, you have not yet reached the age of ten and six, control is not yet in your grasp and is not expected of you." She smiled at her daughter as she set the last dish on the table.
Treyûn waited for his mother to remove her apron and sit before he even glanced at the food, but he now piled food onto his plate with reckless abandon. He first went after the honey bread, one of his favorite foods. Next, he added several pieces of bacon, followed by several spoonfuls of a myriad of sliced fruits mixed together in a large, wooden bowl. A quick glance showed Treyûn apple, banana, kiwi, watermelon, and granju, a fruit similar in appearance to a strawberry but with bright blue insides and an extremely sweet taste that leads some to believe they are candy, though they hold no more sugar than an orange. Pausing to take a bite of a piece of bacon, Treyûn noted that it has been hickory and granju smoked, resulting in an unbelievably delicious taste. Licking his lips, he proceeded to add dollop of homemade strawberry jam, four nurims, which are potatoes that have been sweetened and cooked to make flat disks, several spoonfuls of honey, and a slice of garter cheese, known for its sharp, distinct taste to his plate. Now oblivious to his surroundings, Treyûn filled his glass with Everberry Cordial, a mixture of blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, a bit of granju, and an ingredient, the name of which no one was ever told, which gave the drink its alcoholic properties. Taking a quick gulp from his glass, Treyûn began stuffing food into his mouth as fast as he could while still attempting to be polite to some degree. Within minutes the fruit, honey bread, strawberry jam, and half of the bacon on his plate was gone, as well as three more gulps of Everberry Cordial. Treyûn's taste bud's were alive with pleasure in his mouth and he wasted no time in finishing off the contents of his plate, following it all by draining the remaining contents of his glass.
Fêlya covered her mouth with her hand to hide her wide smile as she stared at her brother's plate, her own having born roughly half of what his had, and their mother's even less than that! She knew that it would not affect Treyûn's physique though, no matter how much he ate he never gained any weight, which made her insanely jealous, and he knew it. Fêlya sighed and lowered her hand, she knew that he did not eat as much as he did to anger her, he was just hungry. Standing, she gave her mother a questioning look and, after receiving a nod, took her mother's plate as well as her own over to a shelf by the basement door. Returning to the table she took Treyûn's plate as well and stacked it on top of hers on the shelf, intending to take them to the basement to clean them off later. Bowing to her mother and brother, she excused herself and left the kitchen. Walking to the stairs, she ascended them quickly and opened the door to her room, which was directly across the narrow hall from Treyûn's. The door closed behind her with a click.
Apologizing to his mother for leaving her with all of the food platters, Treyûn darted out of the kitchen door, ducking so as not to bump his head on the frame, to the outside, stepping onto a crowded neighborhood street and the buzz of conversation. Inhaling deeply and gazing around, Treyûn admired each of the several buildings that stood taller than the rest, as well as the overall beauty of the large Elven city of Yvàrn'êre Azrìl, Fire's Heart. Grinning for the sheer joy of grinning, Treyûn took off up the street, intending to make his way to the Alduàer Magic, the Academy of Magic. Today was the day, he could feel it.
As he moved down the street, dodging oblivious children, women too absorbed in their gossip, lovers swooning, and frustrated people on horseback unable to maneuver through the swarm, Treyûn noticed nearly every single part of his surroundings. He noted, as he always did, the variation of the Elves in the city. Some of those he passed had somewhat tan skin, while that of others was ebony or purple hued. There were also blue eyes, green eyes, entirely black eyes and many strange and unique hair color variations. Stepping onto the main boulevard after maneuvering his way past two mothers straining to keep their children close while they gossiped, Treyûn stopped and let out an amazed gasp. No more than twenty yards in front of him stood what could only be a Spell Weaver, one of many types of spell caster within Yvàrn'êre Azrìl. He had never seen or met one in person before, but everyone knew of them and had heard the stories. Garbed in silk robes the hue of burnished gold, the Spell Weaver had a beard the color of his robes that dangled several inches below his chin and narrowed to a point. His shoulder length golden hair seemed to shine in the morning sun, but was nothing compared to the blaze reflected by the perfect azure sphere nestled on the top of his golden staff, secured by three curled prongs, each of which were masterfully carved to create a likeness of Dragons. The Spell Weaver was speaking to a Guardian, a massive Elf garbed in heavy, golden armor painted red in places to give the overall appearance of a golden flame, the sole duty of whom was to protect Yvàrn'êre Azrìl. The Guardian nodded as the Spell Weaver finished speaking and set off up the street and out of Treyûn's view. Before he even had a chance to approach him though, the Spell Weaver lifted his staff an inch or so off the ground and then lightly struck the butt onto smooth street of white marble. A bright flash of white light temporarily blinded Treyûn's extremely sensitive eyes and by the time he regained his vision, the Spell Weaver was gone. (You guys said it could be long!)
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I like the intro. template.
Where to begin? In past RP experiences, I've dabbled all along the spectrum. I've had Dragons, Demons, Demon Hunters, poor fishermen who, for some reason, seem to get killed soon after their creation, haughty warlocks who suffer deserved deaths, and the typical, boring mage. These various experiences, I think, make me a better RP(er) in that, while Role Playing, I am able to view situations from multiple point of views. I try not to have my characters put on too many airs, but, after my poor fisherman experiences, I am not too fond of being a powerless nobody that everyone else can kill in an instant.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
The United States of America. English.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
My father had bought Warcraft: Orcs and Humans, and then proceeded to buy Warcraft II and Warcraft II Tides of Darkness. I eventually chanced upon them and started playing, and my love of strategy games was born. When they came out, I purchased Warcraft III Reign of Chaos and Warcraft III TFT. When I heard about WoW, I knew I had to buy it, and I did, the day after it was released.
What made you seek our server over others?:
To be honest, when I googled "world of warcraft private roleplay servers" this was the first one that came up. So, naturally, I clicked the link and began perusing the forums. After looking around for a bit, I decided to stick with this one, it must be good if it is at the top of my search results.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I think that I prefer tense RP(ing) situations that could easily lead to a fight/battle, but don't. Someone always gets angry in a RP battle, because no one wants to lose their character, so, I like when you almost get to the point of violence, but then everyone shouts at each other, perhaps makes a few rude gestures, but then storm out separately. The periodic tavern RP can be enjoyable as well, and RP with a great deal of deception and intrigue appeals to me greatly.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
Night/Blood Elves. Mage. The Elves of WoW are my favorite race(s) to be because I have, for as long as I can remember, been fascinated with Elves. In nearly every single game/book/story/movie/etc they are involved with, the Elves always have an extremely rich and interesting history. Regardless of the setting, Elves and their history for whatever the topic is, fascinate me. My favorite class is the Mage because they are the ultimate practitioners of magic. Since magic plays such an important role in WoW, I cannot help but have a fascination with the people who wield it (mages/magi).
What are your expectations of this server?:
Fairly high based upon the requirement of a thorough introduction just to be able to create a server account. The forums also seem quite well set up, and, since this server was first on my google search results, I'm assuming it is good.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:"All players on this server are expected to be familiar with the history of Azeroth." This is my favorite rule because, if a problem arises over a character's existance or story conflicting with lore, the person who made the character cannot use ignorance as an excuse.
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 small part of something I have been working on for awhile, so I apologize if this was supposed to be something made up on the spot);
Treyûn Lìthrâm's eyes snapped open just as the first rays of sunlight entered the room. Throwing off the sheets to expose his bare torso to the slight chill of the room, he swung his legs around so that his feet touched the cold wooden floor. Noting that once again he could not recall what he had dreamt throughout the night, he lifted his arms toward the ceiling and yawned before standing. Treyûn's room was a perfect square, ten feet by ten feet, giving him adequate space for the essentials. Making his way to the wash basin sitting atop a small table, Treyûn glanced at the mirror fastened to the wall above the basin, which, in addition to the bed, and a small wardrobe, completed the room's furnishings. Standing at seven and sixty inches, he was tall for an Elf, his long, pointed ears sticking up out of his shoulder length golden blond hair, which was messy from his slumber. Reaching the basin, Treyûn cupped his hands in the ice cold water and splashed it on his face, causing a shiver to run down his spine, the last drudges of sleep leaving him as he felt the jolt of cold.
Ten minutes saw Treyûn's face and hands thoroughly washed, his hair returned to its regular straightness, every tangle and imperfection purged, and his teeth cleaned using salt and soda. Turning from the basin, he remade the bed so as to appease his mother, whom, by the smells wafting up to his room from the kitchen, was already awake. Stripping out of the thin, dark blue linen night pants he had slept in, Treyûn walked over to the wall opposite the door and tossed them into a chute built into the wall which lead to the washroom in the house's basement, where his mother would clean them later in the day. Walking back to the wash basin, Treyûn began inspecting his body, his bright green eyes keen for signs of the Azrìl'Thôk, the Heart Killer. The Azrìl'Thôk was a disease spread by tainted water that would infect the stomach as it festered there. After three days, it made the stomach unable to function and began to spread as it fed on tissue. The Azrìl'Thôk did not reveal its presence in the body until the fourth day and, for reasons no one yet new, always traveled in a direct path from the stomach to the heart, which is why it was so fatal, so Treyûn wished to take no chances. His body was nothing but lean muscle, his abdominals, pectorals, and biceps extremely defined, if to a lesser extent than that of a Human or Dwarf with equal muscle ratio to him. The amount of fat on Treyûn's body was so little, that every vein and muscle was distinct and visible, which was fortunate, for it would make the Azrìl'Thôk easier to detect. Those who knew what to look for could actually find signs of the Heart Killer on the second day, in the form of slightly swollen veins, something that would be unnoticeable to one with nearly any amount of body fat. Treyûn pressed the thumb and forefinger of his right hand down on the skin on either of the side of most of his veins, making their size easier to determine. Another factor aiding his search was the complete lack of hair on Treyûn's body, leaving little to obstruct a correct estimate of the vein size. After fifteen minutes of searching, he sighed in relief and began to dress, not wishing to miss breakfast, which his mother seemed to make more delicious every day.
Treyûn skipped the last step of the stairs as he descended and so landed on the hard wooden floor with a loud thud, having not yet fully achieved Elven grace. He was wearing almond colored breeches and a leaf green tunic with a simple leather belt around his waist, as well as a white linen undershirt, a small triangle of which could be seen just under his neck, and simple leather boots that were molded to his feet and reached the middle of his shins. As Treyûn entered the kitchen, his mother and younger sister looked at him, pausing in their activities. "Alduàthelorum, Nìthrul," said his sister Fêlya, greeting him in traditional Elvish, as was her wont, before returning to setting plates and fine, crystal glasses on the long, oak table.. Alduàthelorum, which means "Good morning" in the Elvish tongue, is a polite and traditional greeting but would be strange to Humans as it would translate to "Morning is good" in the Common tongue. Nìthrul, on the other hand, meant "Brother" and translated as such.
Bowing his head in acknowledgement, Treyûn followed Fêlya's lead and responded in their native tongue, "Alduàthelorum, Yithla." Good morning, Sister. Turning to his mother, who had paused to watch him after removing a loaf of freshly braked honey bread from the brick oven, Treyûn bowed and said, "Alduàthelorum, Velëzrä-Rimlef." Good morning, Life-Giver. His mother nodded to him and he grinned as he walked to the table, taking a seat in a high-backed oaken chair, finely carved with an intricate design of vines and leaves. Treyûn looked back to Fêlya as she finished setting the table, even preparing a fourth spot in case their father should return. Abandoning their flowing, beautiful speech for Common, which was more rugged and harsh, he inquired, "Did you sleep well Fêlya? I thought that I heard someone talking in the night."
Taking her own seat at the table, Fêlya fixed her mid-back length, blonde hair so that it would not interfere in the meal. Her sharp, hazel eyes wandered the simple kitchen for a few moments before she turned her attention to Treyûn, having to tilt her head up to look at him since she was only sixty inches tall, at best. Fêlya examined her brother for several more moments before she finally responded, "My apologies if I disturbed you, I must've been speaking in my sleep again." Biting her lip, Fêlya felt her cheeks heat in the embarrassment that any Elf unable to control their sleep state indefinitely would experience.
Their mother, the more mature image of her daughter but with blue eyes, slightly darker, wavy hair, and an inch or two taller, joined in the conversation as she began to set different dishes of food down on the table before her children, "Do not be ashamed, Fêlya, you have not yet reached the age of ten and six, control is not yet in your grasp and is not expected of you." She smiled at her daughter as she set the last dish on the table.
Treyûn waited for his mother to remove her apron and sit before he even glanced at the food, but he now piled food onto his plate with reckless abandon. He first went after the honey bread, one of his favorite foods. Next, he added several pieces of bacon, followed by several spoonfuls of a myriad of sliced fruits mixed together in a large, wooden bowl. A quick glance showed Treyûn apple, banana, kiwi, watermelon, and granju, a fruit similar in appearance to a strawberry but with bright blue insides and an extremely sweet taste that leads some to believe they are candy, though they hold no more sugar than an orange. Pausing to take a bite of a piece of bacon, Treyûn noted that it has been hickory and granju smoked, resulting in an unbelievably delicious taste. Licking his lips, he proceeded to add dollop of homemade strawberry jam, four nurims, which are potatoes that have been sweetened and cooked to make flat disks, several spoonfuls of honey, and a slice of garter cheese, known for its sharp, distinct taste to his plate. Now oblivious to his surroundings, Treyûn filled his glass with Everberry Cordial, a mixture of blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, a bit of granju, and an ingredient, the name of which no one was ever told, which gave the drink its alcoholic properties. Taking a quick gulp from his glass, Treyûn began stuffing food into his mouth as fast as he could while still attempting to be polite to some degree. Within minutes the fruit, honey bread, strawberry jam, and half of the bacon on his plate was gone, as well as three more gulps of Everberry Cordial. Treyûn's taste bud's were alive with pleasure in his mouth and he wasted no time in finishing off the contents of his plate, following it all by draining the remaining contents of his glass.
Fêlya covered her mouth with her hand to hide her wide smile as she stared at her brother's plate, her own having born roughly half of what his had, and their mother's even less than that! She knew that it would not affect Treyûn's physique though, no matter how much he ate he never gained any weight, which made her insanely jealous, and he knew it. Fêlya sighed and lowered her hand, she knew that he did not eat as much as he did to anger her, he was just hungry. Standing, she gave her mother a questioning look and, after receiving a nod, took her mother's plate as well as her own over to a shelf by the basement door. Returning to the table she took Treyûn's plate as well and stacked it on top of hers on the shelf, intending to take them to the basement to clean them off later. Bowing to her mother and brother, she excused herself and left the kitchen. Walking to the stairs, she ascended them quickly and opened the door to her room, which was directly across the narrow hall from Treyûn's. The door closed behind her with a click.
Apologizing to his mother for leaving her with all of the food platters, Treyûn darted out of the kitchen door, ducking so as not to bump his head on the frame, to the outside, stepping onto a crowded neighborhood street and the buzz of conversation. Inhaling deeply and gazing around, Treyûn admired each of the several buildings that stood taller than the rest, as well as the overall beauty of the large Elven city of Yvàrn'êre Azrìl, Fire's Heart. Grinning for the sheer joy of grinning, Treyûn took off up the street, intending to make his way to the Alduàer Magic, the Academy of Magic. Today was the day, he could feel it.
As he moved down the street, dodging oblivious children, women too absorbed in their gossip, lovers swooning, and frustrated people on horseback unable to maneuver through the swarm, Treyûn noticed nearly every single part of his surroundings. He noted, as he always did, the variation of the Elves in the city. Some of those he passed had somewhat tan skin, while that of others was ebony or purple hued. There were also blue eyes, green eyes, entirely black eyes and many strange and unique hair color variations. Stepping onto the main boulevard after maneuvering his way past two mothers straining to keep their children close while they gossiped, Treyûn stopped and let out an amazed gasp. No more than twenty yards in front of him stood what could only be a Spell Weaver, one of many types of spell caster within Yvàrn'êre Azrìl. He had never seen or met one in person before, but everyone knew of them and had heard the stories. Garbed in silk robes the hue of burnished gold, the Spell Weaver had a beard the color of his robes that dangled several inches below his chin and narrowed to a point. His shoulder length golden hair seemed to shine in the morning sun, but was nothing compared to the blaze reflected by the perfect azure sphere nestled on the top of his golden staff, secured by three curled prongs, each of which were masterfully carved to create a likeness of Dragons. The Spell Weaver was speaking to a Guardian, a massive Elf garbed in heavy, golden armor painted red in places to give the overall appearance of a golden flame, the sole duty of whom was to protect Yvàrn'êre Azrìl. The Guardian nodded as the Spell Weaver finished speaking and set off up the street and out of Treyûn's view. Before he even had a chance to approach him though, the Spell Weaver lifted his staff an inch or so off the ground and then lightly struck the butt onto smooth street of white marble. A bright flash of white light temporarily blinded Treyûn's extremely sensitive eyes and by the time he regained his vision, the Spell Weaver was gone. (You guys said it could be long!)
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
I like the intro. template.