Ravenholdt RP Sanctum

Clean slate (Open)

Wed, 08 Feb 2012 02:14:22 GMT

by Dessim (Posted Wed, 08 Feb 2012 02:14:22 GMT)
"No."

Dessim paid little to no attention to the falling debris that pounded the ground like a heavy rain. What caught her eye was the figure running for its life, and the effects of the light it held.

The city was coming back to life.

"No no no no NO!" She snarled in frustration, glaring at the figure making its way towards the central spire of blood. This place had been finished! Emptied! Cleansed! The remains of its inhabitants long picked down to the bones. It had been quiet, Peaceful even!

All that was needed to change it was one hooded elf and some sphere. "This is just one of those days..." she muttered, peering out from behind the long empty plague cauldron. Wherever that elf went, new undead rose and followed. But she didn't look like she was doing it on purpose.

Dessim grit her teeth and darted around the long way towards the spire. Whether this woman was raising an army on purpose or not she could not stand by and let such a thing happen so close to Taunka'le.

Amidst the rising noise of clattering bones, the sound of one small, armored elf dashing into the spire was barely audible.

Read Main Topic

Encountering a Legend: How do we RP a raid?

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 21:19:46 GMT

by Resileaf (Posted Tue, 07 Feb 2012 21:19:46 GMT)
For the fight against Deathwing, its a lot easier to claim you were there. It was a massive attack on Wyrmrest, and people from all over Azeroth were fighting, wether it was on the ground or in the airships. Its possible to claim you were there, and even that you were on one of the airships.

In my opinion anyway.

Read Main Topic

Ravenholdt Bulletin Board

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 19:43:49 GMT

by Darkmfour (Posted Tue, 07 Feb 2012 19:43:49 GMT)
Lt. M4 of Stormwind

The 2nd Great war was where he fought. Lt. M4 and his 5 Brave Alliance soldiers were cleansing a part of the Dead Scar. The rain fell heavily that night making vision very difficult non the less he and his partners pressed on. All the sudden out of the darkness one of his troops let out a piercing yell as he went down and the undead swarmed his body. Lt. M4 yelled "Ambush!" The battle didn't last long the abominations and skeleton soldiers picked his soldiers off one by one. Lt. M4 knew what was before him in desperation he let out a roar that made the undead cower he lifted his 5 allies and carried them to the river and they floated away safe from the undead. As Lt. M4 Turned around a Runesword Pierced through his plated mid section.

Lt. M4 took out his swords and swung but due to the blood loss his strength decreased dramatically. As he fell to the floor the Deathknight looked Lt. M4 in the eyes and Lt. M4 used the last of his strength and spit in the Deathknight's face. That would be the end to Lt. M4 as he thought but he was wrong.

Lt. M4 awoke in the Presence of the Lich King and For some reason Lt. M4 was actually doing the Lich King's bidding. During the Light's Hope massacre he returned to Stormwind with Two goals in his mind. Kill the Lich King to reclaim his soul and 2 was to get his Rank and status back.

It was about a year and 2 weeks later the Chance M4 had been waiting for he teleported and joined the Assault on Icecrown Citadel with the Argent Forces. The Lich King's forces stood no chance. Finally M4 and The Lich King were face to face. M4 drew out his swords and the Lich King drew Frostmourne. As the Fight ensued M4 caused much damage to the Lich King but he had sustained wounds as well. A blastwave killed all of the Argent forces and M4 along with it. As Lightning began to strike from Frostmourne stealing the souls The Light's Justice broke Tirion's frozen prison and with a Single heroic swing he shattered Frostmourne. As the Lich King was destroyed with his souls surrounding him The father of Arthas resurrected all the fallen. The Lich King was gone. M4 walked back to the Argent Tournament Grounds and teleported to Stormwind.

With M4 having his soul back he was complete once again. Due to his service King Varian Wyrnn himself bestowed M4 with the Lieutenant rank. Lt. M4 was back. Lt. M4 now serves The Stormwind Army and the Stormwind Guard.

Read Main Topic

Son of a Baker - Twin Seas Trading Co (PG+)

Mon, 06 Feb 2012 15:48:48 GMT

by Jarington (Posted Mon, 06 Feb 2012 15:48:48 GMT)
Night fell on Thom as he sat perched atop a floating island in Nagrand, one situated above the contested village of Halaa - one cascading water into the lake below form a seemingly unknown source. It was a strange yet beautiful world, especially the plains of Nagrand - a place he felt comfortable and at ease.

His fire crackled nearby, roasting a slab of talbuk while creating a soothing scent of wood mixed with cooking meat. Popping the top to his Halaani Whiskey, he reflected on past events and possible routes in the future.

The Twilight Empire's Gala had been a bit of a disappointment for him and while he appreciated the invitation to attend, outside of the serving girl's attention of free drinks, he had felt quite the outsider. For one, none of his friends had attended and even more so, he barely knew any of the attendees.

Not that he felt inclined to introduce himself. As Captain of the Duskrunner and Commander of the TwinSeas Trading Company, it should have been others introducing themselves to him.

A clefthoof bull bellowing in the distance below caused him to chuckle and take a draw of whiskey. "Fel, after listening to the Empress go on about their mission, I doubt they would appreciate my work in Kalimdor anyway."

He had listened to the Empress describe their mission to create peace with the Horde, something Thom adamantly opposed. Minister Erber had sent him several letters as attempts to arrange trade meetings, all of which Thom had dismissed or put off with cryptic replies.

No surprise the Mininster had greeted him with coldness when Thom had introduced himself with an apology. The thank you letter from the Minister had only been slightly warmer. No alliances there, he imagined.

The only real surprise was Shana showing up, causing many of the female attendees to flock to her like bees on honey. She must have felt like the Empress herself the way others doted on her. Thom had listened, of course, from a distance and laughed at the way some of the guests threw themselves at her.

One in particular really caused Thom to nearly burst, the one called Resileaf. She had made her feelings quite clear at the Darkmoon Faire around him being promoted Captain by Nyxiana, including how much she missed the woman. Never mind Nyxiana was wanted for murder by the very Empire she was a member of; nor the fact that Nyxiana had left Thom and the Company to face the charges instead.

So when the Elf began hanging on Shana's shoulder began talking about her love of Nyxiana, how she was the only real Captain (all with Thom clearly standing nearby), he practically burst at the seams in laughter. Instead, however, he simply grinned and nodded at the self-righteous woman.

Later, once Shana's swarm had departed, he had said his hellos, inquired into her health and whereabouts before offering to buy her a drink at the Recluse next time he saw her. She agreed and replied with something along the lines of, "needing to discuss several matters with him". Always an undercurrent around the woman.

Thom leaned back on the grassy, floating island and stared into the foreign sky. Arcane energy streams wafted across mysterious stars while sounds from the roaming wildlife wafted up from below, creating a wild, primal atmosphere.

His thoughts turned toward the future.

His original plan of occupying territory in Kalimdor had worked out well. Attacks on the villages and townships had proven easy with only rare defensive attempts by Horde heroes. He had occupied the Crossroads for hours, cooked food on their ovens, slain guards and vendors by the dozens. None came to their aid.

It had been sad, really, to think no one cared enough to defend their land. So Thom had mined ore for days, taking copper, silver and tin at will. He had used the Horde's own smithies to smelt his ore before sending it to his ship docked at Theramore for delivery.

Finally, with holds full of Kalimdor resources, he set sail for Stormwind and huge profits.

"What now?" he asked the Nagrand night. "Commander Clarby is running things quite nicely and profits are up, gold flowing like wine." He took another deep, draw of whiskey. "I've earned all of the equipment and weaponry the Hall of Champions offers, I've captured towns and villages all over Horde territory."

He sighed. "Not much else to do except expand the crew, maybe. Seek out new shores, perhaps chase after Nyxiana, see where this mystical place is that she was seeking."

"Who knows, maybe she found it and I can as well."

"We'll see." He sniffed the air, turned toward his cooking meal. "Ah, dinner time."

Read Main Topic

Hello

Mon, 06 Feb 2012 14:20:26 GMT

by Darkmfour (Posted Mon, 06 Feb 2012 14:20:26 GMT)
Thanks again. If anyone wants to know my toons story just message me here or all post it on this topic thread

Read Main Topic

Moryarti's Mechanical Marvels

Mon, 06 Feb 2012 14:19:46 GMT

by Jarington (Posted Mon, 06 Feb 2012 14:19:46 GMT)
Weeks had passed since Crowley's rebellion had launched, leaving Vincent to fall back into his normal routine. Supplying of the Rebellion had left him a very wealthy man, enough to leave his business and retire in luxury. If that was what he wanted.

It was not.

War created profiteering and with the fighting contained completely within the borders of Gilneas, profits were practically falling into his hands with little to no effort. Controlling a vast network of operatives afforded him the opportunity to seek out and discover channels other 'businessmen' could not find. Therefore, his wealth grew exponentially.

Today, however, was a day devoted to his toy store. A place he could relax, be at peace and just be Vincent.

The lion roared, the bells over the door jingled and a well-dressed Lord strode into the shop - diamond-tipped cane clicking along the floor tiles as walked toward the counter.

Vincent smiled and greeted the Lord with a bow of the head. "Lord Bloodbourne," Vincent said. "What a pleasure to see you again. How can I be of service?" Bloodbourne tipped his hat before removing it, resting it on the counter, bottom up.

"Mr. Moryarti," the Lord said, removing sleek, leather gloves before placing them into a coat pocket. "So good to see you again, sir." He glanced around the room before returning his gaze to Vincent. "I am in need of something special , a one of a kind sort of item for my son's birthday."

"May I look around and see if what you have may fit the bill?"

"Of course, my Lord, feel free to browse," Vincent said, stepping from behind the counter, hands clasped before him at his waist. "However, most of what you will find on the shelves are more common marvels and owned by several Gilnean citizens."

The Lord picked up a small yeti, turning it over and over before placing it in it's original position. He looked back at Vincent. "The tiger by the door as well?"

"Ah, the tiger," Vincent said, sighing. "Alas, that is not for sale. While it is original and most assuredly one of a kind, it was made by my father and brings back fond memories."

Vincent opened his arms, palms up. "Also, I do not have the plans and cannot make another."

"Come, come, my good man," The Lord replied. "Everything is for sale. Name your price, man!"

Vincent shook his head. "It is not for sale, my Lord Bloodbourne. Some things are priceless, would you not agree?" Bloodbourne stared at Vincent for a moment before huffing a sigh. "Very well. What other one of a kind items do you have?"

"Well, my Lord, I just received a set of rare plans from my overseas connections, an item that hails from the far-off deserts of Tanaris - the town of Gadgetzan..." Vincent paused, watching the Lord stroke his oiled goatee, considering his words.

"And what is this item your plans detail, Mr. Moryarti? Rare you say?"

Vincent nodded. "Indeed it is, My Lord. VERY rare." Vincent motioned toward the back, his workroom. "Would you care to have a look? It might be the perfect piece for your son." Lord Bloodbourne grinned. "Lead on, my good man."

Vincent unfurled a set of partially torn and weather-worn pages of parchment featuring schematics outlining a bipedal machine. Tiny sand particles fell from the roll, causing Vincent to blow them away as he clipped the plans to his board.

"What in Light's Name is that thing?" Lord Bloodbourne said. "Looks like some sort of monster if you ask me."

"The Goblins of Tanaris call it a Mechanical Harvest Reaver," Vincent replied, running his fingers over the writing near the bottom. "Supposed to be a delightful toy for children, imitating machinery created to harvest crops."

"Crops in a desert?" Bloodbourne snorted. "You have got to be joking. What could they grow in a desert?"

"I did not say they grew crops in a desert, My Lord. I simply stated it was from the Goblin town of Gadgetzan." Vincent traced his fingers over the diagrams, noting the highlights. "The Goblins are master craftsmen, known to create marvels even I have never seen."

"Aha!" Vincent exclaimed, tapping a string of text. "Says here that it runs on an internal power source, does not need winding..." He looked up, "That is very good. Kids normally break wind up toys." He continued reading. "Uses a simulated reaping action designed to mimic harvesting techniques. Interesting."

Vincent chuckled, grinned and glanced up at Lord Bloodbourne. "It also states that it is Mostly Harmless and that..." his grin grew as he continued to read the Goblin disclaimer in silence.

"Is that all? Mostly Harmless?" Lord Bloodbourne stated. "What in Light's Name is that supposed to mean?" Vincent shook his head, still grinning from what he read. "It is what it says, My Lord. Mostly Harmless." He snorted a laugh. "Goblins!"

Vincent grinned, standing tall - looking at the Lord eye to eye. "This is one I have never seen before AND never built. It would be one of a kind, sir - perfect for your son and perfectly safe. He will be happy."

Lord Bloodbourne grinned. "I shall take it then. What do you require to begin construction?"

Vincent leaned down to look, scanning the schematic, mumbling various technical words under his breathe, counting to himself. Finally, he stood straight again. "Two thousand gold, half now, half at delivery. When do you need it, my Lord?"

Bloodbourne stared at Vincent a few, long moments before speaking. "Two thousand, you say?" Vincent nodded. "It is rare, my Lord. Your son will be the only one to have this." Lord Bloodbourne nodded. "I see." He sighed.

"Very well. Agreed. I need it in two weeks."

"Two weeks it is, My Lord. Would you like it gift wrapped?" Lord Bloodbourne's eyes widened. "For two thousand gold, I would think it would not only be wrapped but delivered by coach with complete honour guard!'

Vincent opened his arms, smirking painfully, "My Lord! This is an expensive item to make! The materials alone are difficult to attain and the detailing..."

Lord Bloodbourne waved him off, stopping Vincent's words. "I know, I know. Yes, gift wrapped and delivered to my estate that morning, if you please."

"I will have my servant come around with payment this afternoon," Bloodbourne said, turning and walking toward the front of the shop forcing Vincent to follow. After the Lord had donned his gloves, plopped his hat upon his head, he then tipped it to Vincent.

"Good day to you, sir," the Lord said. Vincent bobbed his head. "And a very good day to you, my Lord. Your son will be delighted."

"Yes," the Lord said, walking toward the door, cane clicking on the tile. "He damned well better be."

Bells tingled, the tiger roared and the door slammed closed, leaving Vincent to himself in the shop. "I'm sure he will," he whispered, opening a ledger and carefully scribing the order into the book. "I know I am."

Read Main Topic

Coldstar Cantina Advertisement thread

Sun, 05 Feb 2012 16:09:37 GMT

by Dessim (Posted Sun, 05 Feb 2012 16:09:37 GMT)
Open again, 9 tonight at Hardwrench hideaway

Read Main Topic

Don't let this happen to you!

Sun, 05 Feb 2012 15:17:00 GMT

by Konkurur (Posted Sun, 05 Feb 2012 15:17:00 GMT)
Of course the irony is that the DEADicated players get passed over in the next patch . . .

Looks like we won.

Read Main Topic

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 02:46:53 GMT

by Konkurur (Posted Sat, 04 Feb 2012 02:46:53 GMT)
Alas! Broksar has left the realm. I have no further details, and am saddened by this. Things got too slow for him is my guess.

Read Main Topic

Jeweled

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 21:27:54 GMT

by Tyrgarde (Posted Fri, 03 Feb 2012 21:27:54 GMT)
His eyelids slowly peeled back and he looked around. He was on the floor, book cases towering above him, and so was the gnome, his face did not have a concerned worry look, not at all. His hair was a bit out of place and his mustache had a little zig zag at the end.

“What have you done?!” Jitters shouted.

He had trouble remembering what just happened, he looked at the empty counter, he couldn’t quite remember what it had. He knew it was very interesting whatever it was, but he didn’t know where it went, or barely even what it looked like.

He started to sit up, his mind still reeling, looking around to get his bearings. He looked again to the empty counter and then to Jitters.

“What”, he hesitated a second, “happen…” he gestured to the counter meaning to ask a question, to express his confusion. However instead his hand suddenly burst into flames and spread to his shoulder.

Tyrgarde who mind was already quite confused swiftly kicked itself into panic overdrive. He yelped and leaped, knocking back a rather stunned looking gnome, and began waving his arm frantically and running in circles. To make matters worse, it seemed whenever Tyrgarde waved an arm, a chaotic chain reaction resulted from spells of some kind being shot off and destroying various, and valuable, objects.

Jitters watched with horror while his valuables were being crushed, stepped on, or set ablaze, and a scowl was starting to etch itself onto his face right behind a giant headache. Clenching his hands he brought them high into the air. Tyrgarde found himself suddenly encased in ice.

Of course since it was magic ice, he was still conscious, and he watched as Jitters walked out of the room, and then return with a few stools walking behind him. Stepping to the side the stools lined themselves up to Tyrgarde, the tallest first. Jitters then stepped up one by one till he was the same height as the worgen. Jitters gave him a glare and waited a few seconds, his hands clenched. Suddenly the ice vanished and Jitters bonked Tyrgarde on the nose with a shout, “BAD!”

Read Main Topic

[H] RP Hub: Orgrimmar!

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 00:47:47 GMT

by Shaedai (Posted Fri, 03 Feb 2012 00:47:47 GMT)
As many RPers on the server already know, I just thought I'd let all the Hordeside RPers here know that a lot of us are trying to turn the Drag and Valley of Honor into an RP hub.
We're encouraging everyone to make the Wyvern's Tail in the Valley of Honor their hearth, conduct their business there rather that in the valley of strength and spend their "standing around time" in the area encompassing that valley and the Drag.
RPers making a point of hanging out in that area has and should continue to generate RP for all of us, and some of us are working on figuring out a plotline that could be based out of the area for the whole hordeside server to get involved in.
Hope to see you guys there!

Read Main Topic

New

Thu, 02 Feb 2012 21:05:11 GMT

by Elivia (Posted Thu, 02 Feb 2012 21:05:11 GMT)

Dessim wrote:
...as well as RP hubs opening at least every Sunday and Monday.

To get more specific on what Dess was saying, the Coldstar Cantina is open on Sundays at nine server time at the Hardwrench Hideaway in Strangelthorn. On Mondays at nine server, Valestia opens a seaside diner in Ratchet. But, yeah, spontaneous RP can mostly be found in Orgrimmar now.

And welcome to Ravenholdt!

Read Main Topic

Requiem (Open)

Wed, 01 Feb 2012 20:50:41 GMT

by Kiraleen (Posted Wed, 01 Feb 2012 20:50:41 GMT)
The little light-globe bobbed and swayed in sympathy with the tent. Kiraleen steadied it with her hand, considered strengthening the spell to hold it place and opted instead to fasten its mithril filigree housing to her firepit’s grill. The enchanted thorium links of the housing’s chain shot brief rainbows as she closed the clasp.

Starvale, you always have to prettify things. One of Lerossa’s chief complaints during their time of uneasy partnership turned later into affectionate teasing. She couldn’t deny it, of course. She did prefer jewelry, clothing – anything, really – that was pleasing to the eye and her own particular taste. It was one area where their craft had not overlapped. Lerossa had been better at designs that suited the individual….

…Even if he failed at notating who said design was for. Kiraleen sat back down on her bed, careful not to tip the battered lockbox at her side. It was Lerossa’s “finish later” project box. A sense of responsibility had prompted her to grab it when she left their house for the last time. If possible, she wanted to give those projects to their intended owners. The task wasn’t as easy as she anticipated.

“Martin, I love you, but your handwriting is terrible.” The collection of partially completed rings, earrings, necklaces was also partially tagged, and those illegible for the most part. Was this ruby and gold armband for Kil’gora or Kalah? Those were the only names she recognized, and she wasn’t sure of their accuracy at all. Sighing, Kiraleen picked up a leather pouch and shook out its contents into her hand.

A scattering of cut gems, mostly emeralds, and what looked to be a gold and garnet cloak clasp in the shape of a cinnamon roll.

The cloak clasp’s pin skewered a tiny sheath of parchment. Kiraleen tugged it free. In Lerossa’s spidery handwriting was a single, miraculously legible name: Tiburion.

This she could deliver. Though Lerossa hadn’t wanted their child around the Order, he or she wasn’t in danger yet. It would also give her an excuse to visit a city that ironically had few memories of her and Martin together.

“Kiraleen?”

The voice was louder than normal, no doubt to be heard over the wind and rain. “I am, Amiel. Come in.” She unfastened the door flap with a gesture, and Xelas-Amiel-The Stormreaver ducked inside.

“Sun, you’re drenched. And Toadkiller, too.” The dog’s disgruntled whuff made her laugh; it sounded unpracticed to her ears. “Sit, both of you.” She set the lockbox aside and stirred up the firepit under the grill with the poker.

Xelas sank down to the floor, letting his cloak fall back off his shoulders. “Thank you. I was hoping you were awake.” Toadkiller circled three times on the opposite side of the pit before collapsing with a canine sigh of relief.

“The storms can still be hard to sleep through. And I napped earlier.” She straightened, bundling up one of the many blankets and tossing it lightly to Xelas. “What brings you out on a night like this?”

He looked guilty. “I’m trying to lay my ghosts to rest and felt I needed a moment of brighter things.”

Brighter things? From me? A glance at the collection of Martin’s half-finished jewelry brought a wave a misery crashing down on Kiraleen. “Oh. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m going to be much help –.”She hid her face in her hands.

“Kiraleen, what is wrong?”

He doesn’t know.

Kiraleen tried to compose her thoughts -- tried to stay calm and distant. But the words came tumbling out on top of each other, fighting to be heard. “Lerossa – my husband – he- he’s dead –and I’m pregnant – .” Her composure crumbled. She rocked back and forth, weeping, recounting Lerossa’s bargain with the bronze and red dragon flights scattershot.

Xelas listened with look of mingled shock and discomfiture. It was clear this was the last thing he had expected in coming to Kiraleen's tent to seek comfort. He closed his eyes as he listened to the pain in Kiraleen's voice, forcing the clamoring of his own thoughts and emotions into stillness. He would address those later. For now, though, Kiraleen needed an anchor to keep her grounded in moments like this, which he knew would come more frequently and without warning.

When it seemed that Kiraleen's tale had wound to a pause, Xelas moved to sit beside her. "Kira, I am so sorry,” he said, softly. He took one of her hands and squeezed it gently. "I had no idea. What can I do to help?"

His sympathy and his touch brought on more tears. “I don’t…” Kiraleen wiped her eyes on her blanket. “I don’t know what to …. You raised a child. What was it like for your wife? Pregnancy,” she added in way of explanation. “Being pregnant. All I have are the stories. You know. Gaining weight, mood swings, food cravings. The troubles finding a wet nurse.” She frowned suddenly. “I won’t be able to do that, I think.” She looked at Xelas. “Raising a child. I see children around me and think ‘I wouldn’t let my child do that’ or ‘I’d teach better manners’ but I don’t know if I’d be a good mother."

Xelas opened the blanket Kiraleen had given him and settled it around both their shoulders. He sighed softly. "Nobody knows if he or she will be a good parent. There are so many influences that we cannot control -- all we can do is to love our children and guide them the best way we know how. And with first children, all the advice in the world won't prepare you. It's so tempting to spoil and overprotect that we forget sometimes that they will have to learn to make their way without us, and that it is our job to arm them with the knowledge and confidence to do so." Xelas paused, shaking his head looking sad. "I've made so many mistakes with my firstborn. So many," he said softly.

“Firstborn? I thought Farion was an only child.”

Xelas forced a small smile. “No, I have three. A daughter and two sons. Farion is my middle-born and favorite.” He glanced at Kiraleen, grimacing. “I know everyone is supposed to love their children equally. As I said – I’ve made many mistakes."

Kiraleen rubbed the blanket’s trim between her fingers. “I’m sure you tried your best.” She knew the words were weak even as she spoke them. She had to say them anyway, as much to reassure herself as Xelas.

Xelas' bark of laughter held no humor. "I'm a terrible father, and was an even worse husband. I hope you know that. At the end, my wife hated me. My daughter has spent decades hunting me down to kill me. And I have an estranged, half-human son in Stormwind whom I barely know. Those are my glowing recommendations as your adviser. The only hope that I've done any of this right is Farion." He blinked several times, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Now, he's gone where I can't protect him or help him. I can only hope he's cleverer than I."

“Farion’s a smart boy, and he didn’t leave alone. He’ll keep his head down, I’m sure.” Kiraleen hefted the poker and stirred up the fire, tracing symbols in the coals. “I can ask our friends in the Empire to keep their ears and eyes open for anyone asking about you, if you’d like. Be easier if we knew what disguise he’s using, or what his friend looks like. "

Xelas rubbed his face in his hands, "Yes, though I suppose I should be taking heart in the fact that he disguised himself so well that no one that I contracted to look for him has been able to find him yet. Unless she's_already gotten to him." Xelas looked grim. "I just don't know about asking The Empire to help. With them based in Darnassus, they're so close to the problem. Even if their integrity is beyond question, carelessness or luck could connect them to me or lead Shandris to my son. Either of them." The elf's pale hair spilled to cover his face as he hung his head. "You see how awful I am? My first thought goes to Farion, and yet Savandan and his family are in just as much danger if Shandris finds them."

Kiraleen scrubbed out her symbols, only to begin anew. “Savandan... he's your human-born son? How does the Alliance treat him? The people in Stormwind?" A twitch of her fingers made the symbols burn violet and fade, leaving the flames to cascade through a rainbow of colors. “My child will be half-human. Silvermoon is not kind to to half-bloods.”

Xelas glanced at Kiraleen, "Most likely not. But you may be lucky. Your child may resemble you so closely that he or she would pass as elven at least in early childhood. It will become clearer the child is different as the years go by. Farion is ... was... just starting to show his Kal'dorei blood. Savandan is still very young, though I expect it will happen soon. Of course, once people around him who grew up with him as a child have grown gray while he still looks a young man, it will be obvious something is different. It's already begun." He nodded as much to himself as Kiraleen. "He has probably struggled with it more than I know. But of the two, Stormwind would probably be the... more welcoming... home."

Kiraleen made a false start at her next question, before falling into an awkward silence. Finally, she made another attempt. “Xelas… this is beyond rude and if you don’t speak to me beyond ‘Good day’ I’ll understand… but why did your wife hate you?”

"No, it's a fair question, " answered Xelas. "I wish I could say I had no idea why." He quirked an eyebrow at Kiraleen. "The long story is... long. The short story is that we had an understanding when we first married. Sometime after the Order we were in became corrupted, it changed. Only I didn't realize it. I want to lay all the blame on my Lord Commander, but I know I played my part. He sent my lover to Northrend, and I demanded that a rescue be undertaken when we lost contact. When the Grand Crusader tapped me to lead the rescue, I didn't even hesitate. I was ready to leave her... my whole family behind to try to save my consort. Fellari had every right to hate me."

Kiraleen sniffled and then scoffed. “Would you believe that even after hearing all that, you’re still the best I’ve got?” Her tearful smile softened her words.

Xelas laughed again, less bitterly. “I pity you for that.” Then he sobered. “Despite all my failings, I'll do my best to help you through this Kira. I promise you that."

“Thank you, “Kiraleen murmured.

Xelas gave a determined nod which signaled that he was ready for a change of topic. "So, tell me about Martin. I never knew him. How did you meet? What was he like?" Xelas knew that remembering the dead would likely bring sorrow in its wake. Yet, it was good to remember them and see how vividly they live on in memory.

Kiraleen’s lips curled in a ghost of a smile. “The first or second time?” She shook her head with a sigh. “The first time was years before the plague. My mother drafted me to spend a summer researching the Binding Circles in the Arathi Highlands. Her apprentices were on other assignments or working on projects of their own, and due to some delicate behind-the-scenepolitics in Dalaran, she felt she couldn’t go out on her own." Now Kiraleen did smile, ruefully. “It probably didn’t help me that I’d been complaining about the lack of material for my studies. The Highlands, she said, would offer me all the stone and gems I could want.

“Because of the trolls, she called in favors and arranged to have a guide and guardian from Stromgarde accompany me. She’d given me use of a tent she enchanted – larger inside than out so it had many rooms, layered with protective and camouflage magics – but that wouldn’t help against threats in the field as it were. So I arrived in Stromgarde with her tent on a borrowed horse and instructions to contact the captain of the city guard. He told me a Watcher Martin had been assigned to me, gave me vague directions on how to find him at the Lerossa Mercantile, along with a voucher for supplies, and wished me good luck on my studies. Well, his instructions were so vague I eventually stopped to ask a guard for better directions… and barely heard his answer. I’d approached him from behind; when he turned around, all I could do was stare. He was the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life. I felt – lightning-struck. After a few moments, I remembered how to breathe and my manners, thanked him, and headed for the Mercantile. It took all my resolve not to stop and turn around to just to stare at him.

“Eventually I reached the Mercantile, a large estate with the family manor and the warehouses of the family business surrounded by a low stone fence. Waiting at the gate was a wagon with my supplies and my escort.”

Kiraleen rose, tucking the blanket around her and went to the cold-storage chest at the other end of her tent. She took out a ceramic jug and plucked two glasses suspended from the nearest tent frame and offered one to Xelas before sitting back down.

“Guess who it was?”

Martin, was it?" Xelas laughed. "Either you were very slow, or he raced to get ahead of you. Either that, or he gave terrible directions." Xelas' eyes twinkled.

Kiraleen set the jug on the firepit grate to warm and shot him a brief grin. “Second option, I suspect. Well, those first weeks were awkward, filled with tension. For me, at least. Though later I learned he’d had the same reaction as I. In any case, at one point I was careless and went too close to a troll camp. Scouts noticed me and attacked. Martin rescued me. I had nothing worse than bruises and sprains; his injuries bled. I tended him in the tent later and ….” Another half-smile. “You find yourself wanting to reaffirm you’re alive at such times.

Xelas looked demure. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about." He punctuated his statement with a mock sniff, followed by a wink. "Still, it sounds as though you found a way to express your admiration."

“The rest of the trip was much less awkward after that.” Kiraleen cupped her hands around her glass. “It wasn’t simply physical. We found we liked each other as people… more than liked. And had enough differences to make good sparks, as my father would have said. We had a couple good rows about safety. He was a bit overprotective at times. But all told, I felt – I thought – we were building something more…”

“So what happened afterward?” asked Xelas.

“I wrote him when I returned to Quel’thalas, using Mother’s contacts in Dalaran. Three or four letters, roughly a couple weeks apart for each. He never wrote back. I thought perhaps, after an initial feeling of hurt, that he didn’t have time. Or more likely, couldn’t find anyone to deliver them.. Then my parents died. Their ship caught in a late autumn squall.” Kiraleen’s voice turned bitter. “One of my cousins contested my ownership of their estate, the family business, even wanted guardianship of me. I couldn’t afford to think of Martin. I threw my efforts into keeping my inheritance and my freedom. Then I heard of the fall of Stromgarde, Lordaeron… and then Arthas and his Scourge were marching through my homeland. My heart and my head both believed him dead.“

Xelas nodded, staring into the fire. "Not an unreasonable belief. But you said you met him a second time?"

“The second time…Lethi , the founder of the Outriders, had mentioned working with a Lerossa of the Order of the Forsaken. During the trip Martin had talked of his family and mentioned how large it was. ‘Overflowing with cousins close enough in looks to be brothers’ were his words. I met this Lerossa in Silvermoon.

“He was… not like Martin. Martin had been kind if rough-edged, proud of his city but curious about me and mine --I was the first elf he’d ever met -- enthusiastic about life. This Lerossa in Silvermoon was cold, bitter, belligerent, with a sharp cutting humor he used as another weapon and no ability to laugh at himself, even slightly. He despised and envied the living. ‘You’re one of Lethi’s little things,’ he said to me. I inadvertently helped him find one of his contacts, and he gave me a ring as a mocking gesture of thanks. If he had been anyone else, I would never have approached him again. But he was a relative of Martin, and out of honor of his memory, I remained cordial. He asked for aid from Lethi and I once or twice, he assisted me more than once. And it was on the last occasion said to me,'If I’m going to play the white knight, you should know my first name.’

"'Martin.’'"

“I was dumbstruck. He didn’t remember me – remember us-- at all, until I mentioned that summer in Arathi…”

Kiraleen wrapped a corner of the blanket around the jug’s handle and poured, Xelas’ glass first, then her own. “Spiced Eversong red . Good warm on a night like this.” She drank deeply, wanting not only to ease her throat but a moment to organize her thoughts.

“I’ve never told anyone this before, Xelas. We talked more. Things changed after that. His antagonism faded. Then his wife disappeared. A month later, with no word, no message, we became lovers. Pledged ourselves to each other that Winter Veil.”

Kiraleen gazed at him over her glass, her expression determined, as though expecting disapproval.

Xelas cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm sure you realize how that sounds?" He took a sip of his wine. "Not that I have any room to judge, really. My wife didn't disappear until long after I was believed to be dead, and had endured my affairs without complaint almost until the end." He shook his tawny head slightly. "She may still be out there alive somewhere. Though given how thoroughly Balnazzar had influenced her, she has likely been consumed by the Legion. Or worse, she realized what he was and tried to fight back." He met Kiraleen's gaze. "I never looked for her, once I finally made it out of the Plaguelands."

“Oh, I know exactly how it sounds.” She smiled grimly. “Didn’t care at the time. Still don’t. We’d had too short a time together. Why shouldn’t I try to see if we could begin again? Not that it was easy. The Martin I knew then and the Lerossa I knew now… they might have seemed different people, but they weren’t. They were the same person. I’d just seen different sides of him, at different times. And that could be difficult to accept.”

She dropped his gaze, staring into the firepit. Silence settled over them, not entirely comfortable. For some time the elves watched the flames and nursed their drinks. A log crackled and snapped in two; Kiraleen jumped and Xelas let out a wry laugh. Kiraleen joined him, a breath behind, then sighed.

“I’m sorry I’m not able to help you, Xelas, but thank you for listening to me go on. Let me take a turn listening to you.”

Xelas shrugged, “I’m just an old man with little stomach for getting my hands dirty. I just don’t see any other way.”

Kiraleen frowned slightly. “Killing Sentinels?”

Xelas tucked a lock of pale hair behind his ear before nodding, “Aye. I don’t hate them. If I hunt as I have been trained, they offer me no harm, because they never see me coming. They’re not food. It’s just hard to justify their deaths as anything more than a waste. And yet, I know it’s the only way to get at Shandris without an army. And then, if I had one, even more would die.”

“I know you don’t do this lightly. And I understand why,” replied Kiraleen hesitantly.

“But you don’t approve,” Xelas stated.

“It’s not a solution I would like, no.” Kiraleen paused, searching her feelings on the matter. “I’m not sure I could think of a better way, either. Even if you braved going back to Stormwind, how could you prove any of it? And if you did…?”

“If I did, what would my king do if he found out that one of his allies was assassinating his citizens in his own city?” Xelas nodded. “Aye. The last thing I want is for Stormwind to go to war over this.”

“Do you think they would?”

Xelas shook his head uncertainly. “Maybe. King Varian was ready to put Ironforge under martial law, when Moira Bronzebeard showed up to claim the throne – and that was just to quell the impending civil war there. If he thought one of his allies was disregarding his rule and justice within his own walls…. “ The elf winced. “I’m loyal to my king, but he is very… decisive.”

Kiraleen grimaced. “He’s a hothead,” she stated, flatly.

Xelas opened his mouth as if to protest, but shut it with an almost apologetic shrug before nodding in agreement. “Anyway, I suppose I have to keep on as I am until some better path is revealed.” He finished his wine, before rising to set the glass on a nearby table. He bent to scoop up his cloak. “I should be letting you rest, unless you need me to stay?”

“Would you mind staying until I finish these?” She indicated the lockbox with one hand, and raised her half-empty glass. “It won’t be too much longer.”

Xelas nodded.”Of course.”

At Kiraleen’s prompting he talked of the night elf lands. Kiraleen listened, making the last notices to Lerossa’s unfinished works. At one point she told him of her single visit to Darnassus to meet with the Twilight Empire.

“That was very brave of you,” Xelas said.

“Brave or foolish.” Kiraleen drained her glass and set it atop the closed lockbox. “Take your pick.”

Xelas pretended to consider, draping his cloak about his shoulders. “Both?”

Despite expecting that answer, Kiraleen laughed. “Take care, Xelas.”

“You as well, Kira.”

She closed and knotted the door flap behind him, banked the coals in the fire pit and returned to her bed. She wasn’t sure if she felt better, but her earlier misery no longer threatened to overwhelm her. She curled on her side and let the rain’s rhythm carry her into sleep.

Read Main Topic

[4th War] Family You're Born With

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 19:04:03 GMT

by Meia (Posted Tue, 31 Jan 2012 19:04:03 GMT)
((NB: This story takes place during the Midsummer Festival, a few days after the Outriders return to Thunder Bluff in the 4th War thread Temporary Heroes))

I knew something was wrong when Domme’s Midsummer care package never arrived.

Midsummer is the closest thing to a religious holiday for sin’dorei. No, scratch that – it is a religious holiday for sin’dorei. We ask the Sun’s blessing, call on it, swear by it, curse by it. We may not have a religion per se based on it – no prayers, no priests, no temples -- but it’s the one sacred thing recognized by us all, even before the Light in many cases. (Blood knights, I’m looking at you.)

So Midsummer is rather a big deal. Oh, of course, there’s the celebrations common among Horde and Alliance alike. But we sin’dorei have other customs. Well dressings, dances, meditations at dawn and noon, bonfires at dusk, troll-stalking war parties, Scourge-hunting forays, nobles’ masquerades and less bloodthirsty parties that take up whole neighborhoods. Commoners and nobles alike go all out, and the merchant shops and stalls are overflowing with costumes, toys, spangles, candies, baked goods, decorations, minor magical doodads and whatnots in honor of Midsummer. I haven’t been home for a full Midsummer in years, and somewhere along the way Domme fell into the habit of sending me the best of the doodads, eatables and whatnot in a single, gold-and-ruby-papered package. A running joke, one appreciated by me. Those boxes found their way to Kalimdor, Outland and Northend without fail.

This year, nothing.

She’s busy, I thought. Noting to worry about. That lasted only a few days. until Naunet returned from her little – um – extended visit with the city’s guards. The story of the riot that filled the cells to overflowing and inadvertently led to our good captain’s release pushed me from puzzled to worried. Granted, our family’s shop wasn’t in the Bazaar, but riots, like so many things, don’t recognize boundaries. So I approached Kiraleen about taking a brief leave of absence.

I had my arguments lined up. Concern about my family, of course. Picking up any rumors about her putative dalliance with the Regent Lord. Checking up on her own staff, too. But the Field Marshal, perhaps preoccupied with settling in our guest, merely nodded and offered the service of a portal.

I accepted gladly, and within minutes I was in Silvermoon.

I always feel a sense of rightness when returning to Silvermoon. I was born and raised here, and no matter how bad things got -- and at times they were very bad indeed, even before Arthas and the Scourge -- I always felt more alive, more connected to the world inside its walls. I've heard some claim Dalaran or Shattrath or even Orgrimmar as 'their' city. Silvermoon was my city. Regardless of where I lived, it was my home.

No aftermath of the riot marred the Court of the Sun’s festivity, or the Exchange’s hustle and bustle. Perhaps it hadn’t been as bad as Naunet had heard. Or perhaps the magisters had gone above and beyond to tidy it up. I made my way to our family’s shop without incident.

Domme was at the counter, waiting on a customer when I walked in. She looked up as the bells over the door chimed. I smiled in relief to see at least one family member alive and well. She didn’t smile back. This must have been the last in a long string of customers, I decided.

I hung off to one side, watching Domme measure and weigh a half-dozen different candies. She had hairsticks with tiny, faintly glowing suns holding her dark brown hair in a bun; she’d let it grow out. The store itself was decorated for the holiday: more glowing suns, garlands of summer flowers along the street display and upper walls, free samples in fancy bowls set on the counter. Next to them was a tray with pastries. Freshly made, because I could smell them. Apple and almond tarts dusted with powdered sugar , our mother’s own recipe. Serve them with ice cream and they’re to kill for. She didn’t make them often.

One of my favorite weaknesses. Domme knew that. Why hadn’t she sent me a few?

“Complimentary of Heartjoy’s,” she said, handing the customer one along with her purchases . The woman left, munching happily.

“Like the new hairstyle, sis,” I said lightly, stepping forward. I set my elbow on the steadiest part of the counter and propped my chin on my hand. “Happy Midsummer.”

Domme looked at me, opened the display case and began refilling the freebie bowls.

Well. Someone was in a mood. No sense in avoiding the troll.

“I heard about the riot,” I said. “Are the folks all right? No one was injured, nothing damaged?”

Domme peered at me mid-pour of the spiced sunjelies, then started on the next bowl.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. How are things otherwise?”

Domme topped off the wrapped chocolate nut clusters, pivoted on her heel and started for the back of the shop.

Something was very wrong. I did the unthinkable in our family and vaulted over the counter. “Domme, wait.”

She quickened her pace. I have longer legs, and I’m faster. I caught up with her in three rushing strides and grabbed her arm. “Domme! “

She shrugged out of my hold. This close, I could read the tension in her posture even more clearly. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

My sister stared at me for what seemed a very long moment indeed. “Meia, why are you here?”

Her voice was controlled. Too controlled. “I heard about the riot,” I repeated. “I wanted to make sure everything was all right.

“We’re fine.”

“ And you didn’t send my Midsummer package,” I added lamely, wincing at the petulance even I could hear.
Domme snorted. “I’m sorry,” she said in her stiffest customer-is-always-right-even-if-they’re-stupid tone. “Help yourself. Good day.” She turned to leave. I grabbed her arm again.

“Damn it, Domme, what’s going on? Is there some kind of trouble –“

She slapped me.

I didn’t see it coming. Stunned, shocked, I could only stare. We’d fought as children do, but we’d never struck each other since our last adolescent row over some utterly forgettable male.

“How dare you?” Domme hissed. She was trembling. “How dare you come here, after you’ve lied to us – to me—for years?”

My face hurt. My ears were actually ringing. “Lie…?”

“You told us you’d joined a group that worked to better the Horde. But you joined them,” she spat. “The Outriders.”

“We are working for the betterment of the Horde,” I shot back. “You think constant war is a good thing? You think –“

“You’re working with [the Alliance!” Domme’s eyes blazed emerald fire. “You’ve made friends with the people who betrayed us and turned their backs on us when we needed them! You have parties together. You think people don’t talk?”

There’s a reason I’d been deliberately vague about my membership in the Outriders, and Domme’s attitude was it. “You’d rather we marched lockstep with Garrosh like everyone else? There are problems out there that can’t be solved by starting pointless wars! Deathwing, for one. The Legion’s still out there, and Light knows what else. ” Furious and hurt, I didn’t care to temper my words. ”There’s a bigger picture than stupid grudges and self-pity!”

“Garrosh can go fuck himself, and Thrall, too, “ Domme snarled. “If it wasn’t for the Alliance being two-faced backstabbers, we wouldn’t be lumped in with a bunch of two-legged animals who mock us and only want what magic we can give them. You might saunter around the world with your head up your ass about your bigger picture but the rest of us poor slobs have to deal with what’s here and what’s now.”

She folded her arms and glared at me. “You asked if there was trouble? Oh, just a bit! Magisters popping in to ‘pick up a few things’ who’ve never graced us with their presence before. More guards patrolling past the shop in the last week than we’ve had in years. The Light- damned Arm of Kalimdor sniffing around since that dent-skulled Captain of yours got tossed in jail. So, dear sister, thank you for dropping in personally. I’m sure that cow stuffing her face won’t waste any time rushing off to tell someone in charge somewhere she saw you. “

Oh, Sun.

“Domme, there must be –“

“Stop it, Meia.” Suddenly my sister looked exhausted, as if she hadn’t slept in days. “I don’t want to hear anymore from you. I don’t want to see you. You’ve done enough. Just go.”

She turned and strode off into the kitchen.

I stood there,numb. After what seemed an eternity I opened the latched half-gate to the front of the shop, in time to see my mother emerge from the office.

We looked at each other. We’re much alike in terms of looks, my mother and I, with the same white hair and green eyes. Temperamentally, Domme is more like her. I braced myself for another tirade.

Instead, my mother came over and hugged me.

“It’s good to see you, snowflower.”

I burst into tears at her childhood pet-name for me. “I’m sorry – I didn’t know – didn’t stop to think –“
My mother stroked my hair. “It’s all right, Meia,” she said at last. We’ll manage. This isn’t the first time we’ve been in a political pickle-barrel. Your father and that nobleman, now, that was bad. But I think it may be best if you don’t visit for a time."

I met her eyes in disbelief. In hers I saw love, yes, but also wariness and fear. Fear I’d see through her brave words? Or fear of me, the further danger I could bring ? I wanted to ask. I wasn’t brave enough to hear the answer.

“Not even for the Hallow’s End rush?”

I tried to make the question a joke. I don’t think I succeeded. My mother’s expression momentarily grew more guarded. “We’ll see. We may not need you this year.”

I nodded, feeling as if the world had just plummeted away from beneath me, leaving me dangling midair, ungrounded.

“Goodbye, Mother.”

“Take care of yourself, Meia.”

I left Heartjoy’s Confections. In a secluded and empty alcove between the Exchange and Farstrider’s Square, amid the flags and magical fires of Midsummer, I took out my guildstone. I studied it, turning it over.

Then I used it, to return to a city built by some of those Domme had disgraced by calling them two-legged animals, a people that had been most gracious in accepting a ragtag handful of misfits, political and otherwise.

A city –and a ragtag handful -- that would now have to be my home.

Read Main Topic

[A] Matasuntha: The Birth and (un)Death of a Killing Machine

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 13:35:25 GMT

by Matasuntha (Posted Tue, 31 Jan 2012 13:35:25 GMT)
((I completely rewrote her biography, but used an old post, so I'm bumping it.))

Read Main Topic

Old Republic

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 05:15:53 GMT

by Huudrok (Posted Tue, 31 Jan 2012 05:15:53 GMT)
Shameless plug,

Just thought I'd name drop, found a great Republic Heavy RP guild on Shien. Excellent forum setup and story lines.

http://vengeance-swtor.enjin.com/

Oh and the guild video someone sliced together:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDkS10WJ ... r_embedded

Read Main Topic

The Twilight Gala

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 21:40:06 GMT

by Reesee (Posted Mon, 30 Jan 2012 21:40:06 GMT)
I wanted to thank everyone too. We had a huge turnout, and I'm not lying when I say that so many more people showed up than I ever could have expected. I also mentioned that I'd like to host these on a more regular basis, especially in more neutral locations, where horde players can attend as well.

Read Main Topic

[2012/01/29 00:00] [AH] Looking for Scripts!

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 21:34:41 GMT

by Reesee (Posted Mon, 30 Jan 2012 21:34:41 GMT)
Thanks again, Leppy! We'll be using your script for this thing. Now to get to work gathering dedicated actors. If anyone Alliance side is interested, feel free to send me a whisper or an in-game letter, and I'll see what I can do!

Read Main Topic

Stories of A Man from Moonbrook (Varies G thru R)

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 20:25:38 GMT

by Xelas Stormfeather (Posted Mon, 30 Jan 2012 20:25:38 GMT)
-_-

I'm sure you can't possibly know my personal battle with "Soon", nor how much it vexes me, so I'll let that go.

However, I will dutifully scold you for going against your doctor's advice, particularly if it is painful to do so. /scold_on

On the other hand, I'm very glad to see you are still with us and that this means despite misbehaving where doctor's orders are concerned, this means you will be rejoining us more regularly "soon". /scold_off

Get well, sir.

Read Main Topic

Well uh..

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 13:31:13 GMT

by Zaromon (Posted Mon, 30 Jan 2012 13:31:13 GMT)

Shaedai wrote:
Long enough that I only vaguely remember your name and that it makes me think of a Zorro Digimon.
Welcome back, at any rate. :3

Close enough.

I don't really like my name.

Read Main Topic

Random Thoughts

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 01:16:34 GMT

by Taldarg (Posted Mon, 30 Jan 2012 01:16:34 GMT)
When I die.

THIS is the first thing that I am doing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQXVHITd1N4

Read Main Topic

On the reporting of names

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 00:28:57 GMT

by Nawzkullz (Posted Mon, 30 Jan 2012 00:28:57 GMT)

Kiraleen wrote:
I have to wonder why non-RPers roll here in the first place. ...

I flat didn't know the difference when I rolled my first character here. An alt I seldom played. Glad I did roll him here. For the record I stumbled over some Bloodfury world RP in the tavern of old Brill. Best thing that ever happened to me in the game.

Read Main Topic

Ravenholdt Hosting Reroll RP Night

Sat, 28 Jan 2012 03:41:33 GMT

by Konkurur (Posted Sat, 28 Jan 2012 03:41:33 GMT)
Dammit all! Missed it! I hope it was a great event.

Read Main Topic

So, uh, Hi there, Ravenholdt :3

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 15:08:34 GMT

by Flidais (Posted Fri, 27 Jan 2012 15:08:34 GMT)
Welcome!

Since you've been around for a month now you must already realize that Ravenholdt is the best server there is. Glad to see a new face!

Read Main Topic

To the community in regards SCG

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 20:24:56 GMT

by Naunet (Posted Wed, 25 Jan 2012 20:24:56 GMT)

Dashaun wrote:
/could just cry. Again.

*offers hugs and ponies*

Read Main Topic

Blurring the Line (IC vs OOC)

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 17:35:54 GMT

by Fauxpaw (Posted Wed, 25 Jan 2012 17:35:54 GMT)
One thing I do to keep the lines between IC and OOC very straight is to be upfront about it.

If my character is unfaithful, I will tell them that before a relationship is started. If my character is a bitch, I'll tell them that before starting an RP. I focus on the story-telling part of RP, and that I'm not content with keeping the status quo for the majority of my characters.

Read Main Topic

What have YOU done lately?

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 17:05:56 GMT

by Fauxpaw (Posted Wed, 25 Jan 2012 17:05:56 GMT)
Edit'd the main post very slightly for clarity. (Bolded "roleplay"..)

This week, I..
.. Accidently baited a fellow Gilnean into violence, and took her down (without killing) by calling upon nearby allies. :b Fauxpaw don't fight fair, yo.
.. Recruited a couple more people into the Darkweald Syndicate. Note, all invites are done through roleplay.
.. Started rolling up a new character, a Gilnean convict who escaped during the worgen breakout.

Fairly slow this week. I'll have to improve!

Read Main Topic

New Alliance guild project

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 08:11:57 GMT

by Abdel (Posted Wed, 25 Jan 2012 08:11:57 GMT)
Thanks!

Currently the group is:
-Human Paladin (Tank or Healing)
-Dwarf Hunter (DPS)
-Warrior (Tank or DPS)

I'm still looking for a Healer and two DPS.

Also: if you cannot join the guild, no problem!
The guld will only be a real guild when we achieve lv 60.

There will be a sequencial roleplay who will show how a band of rookies becomes a proeminent force of the Alliance - and don't worry, we'll have lots of roleplay and lots of action, so we will gain levels very fast!

Read Main Topic

Pets

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 21:58:23 GMT

by Katelle (Posted Mon, 23 Jan 2012 21:58:23 GMT)
Ponies!

Now where's that corral...? ;D

Read Main Topic

Whatcha listenin to?

Sun, 22 Jan 2012 05:00:01 GMT

by Naunet (Posted Sun, 22 Jan 2012 05:00:01 GMT)

Konkurur wrote:
By the way, Naunet - your recommendation of Shara Worden's album "All Things Will Unwind" has brought me many hours of delight. Thanks again for that!

Glad I could help!

Here's another one to keep an eye on: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCvPV9R7njw

And a live recording: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FiHB7mPJAGg

She's got a new album coming out, Little Spark. I'm thinking about picking it up.

Read Main Topic