First off, introduce yourself. Tell us anything about you:
Well, my name is Bill. I'm 23 years old, recently became a student, and still have more free time than I know what to do with.
What country are you from and what language(s) do you speak?:
I'm from the U.S., I speak English, and juuuuust enough Spanish to catch people who assume I don't speak any off guard, lol.
How were you first introduced to Warcraft/World of Warcraft?:
A friend vanished into Azeroth, and after a month I followed. Since then, it's been a love/hate relationship for years. I have a little bit of experience with PvE, PvP BGs, and with 2 and 3 team Arena, but I never got far before I lost interest in gear farming.
How did you find us?:
I'm MagicalRaccoon's brother.
How long have you been roleplaying?:
I first started in 1999, with Dragon Ball Z and Final Fantasy based chatroom RPs. We had a heavy focus on plot, and a lot of inter-player character competition. In the last 13 years, I'd like to think I've diversified, but I still love a solid plot that helps in character development more than anything in RPing.
What types of roleplay do you enjoy?:
I like to see a reason to shed different light on characters. I'd like to see a steadfast paladin tempted to weigh greater good and personal gain. To see Orcs go against reason in favor of aggression, because it sheds light on the perspective on the character. Conflict is the spice of life, and I'm not good with bland.
Game Expansion:
Wrath of the Lich King.
Sample of your work:
Zuwaji's face wrinkled. He had neither expected the news, nor the responsibility it carried. His sense of honor, however, demanded action. The Bloodscalp Tribe were now calling upon Zuwaji for guidance. He turned away from the stream his camp had been settled by to face the trolls who bore such heavy news. He could judge from the sneers of some of the crowd that he was not to go unquestioned. "This is not going to be easy," he thought to himself, the thoughts rolling through his mind in Zandali. "I suppose it's about time to see if I can succeed where others have failed. Survival of the Tribe depends on it." This thought only further wrinkled the skin on his face, his eyes almost squinting. His only chance was to make the Tribe see the reality of the situation, because his plan would not be accepted any other way.
The younger berserkers and hunters had quickly gathered, sneering at the reaction of their would-be leader. Zuwaji listened to the chatter as they arrived, knowing the young ones would lack the sense to stay silent. The older and more experienced fighters of the Tribe trickled in afterwards, but made their presence known by shoving those lower in standing out of their way. Lower ranking shaman, witch doctors and the like tended to stay on the fringe of the mob. After the majority of the group had settled around the small compound, the high ranking Bloodscalp of the Voodoo walked right through, always with plenty of space. They called to him.
"We have agreed, Zuwaji. You are the best candidate for the head of the Bloodscalp Clan." They spoke loudly for the crowd, their dialect of Zandali adding hate to each word. "But we all know that in these most harsh of times, we cannot afford any trace of weakness!" The witch doctor's face carried a hint of amusement. "The Bloodscalp Tribe demands that you take any challenge to combat head on! What is your response, Zuwaji?!" The witch doctor's voice rang out in a rallying cry, as if to incite violence in anyone who was considering it.
"I am unafraid, though I see any challenge as a worthless loss of life for the Tribe. I plead with all who wish to oppose me to reconsider, for the good of the Bloodscalp." He had his hopes, but Zuwaji was realistic. He knew the Tribe needed faith in his strength, and he knew at least one hot-headed youth would stand against him. He was unsurprised to see a young hunter step forward, whistling to his nearby raptor.
"I know you, Zuwaji, and I know of your plan. I would rather stand now than ever put faith in human or elf! I may be the first, but I will not be the last to stand today!" The youngster spoke with great zeal, and a few from the crowd cheered, encouraging him. He knocked an arrow and sneered, calling out to his would-be prey. "I challenge you, Zuwaji!" Zuwaji muttered the power word of Shield, and felt the strength of his soul form a protective magical barrier around his body. He then cast the spell for Mind Control as an arrow pelted his barrier. The raptor struggled to bite anything, but it didn't stop him from trying, his jaw always pushed away from Zuwaji by the shield. The young hunter's eyes widened as he dropped his bow to the ground and helplessly watched his arm reach for the skinning blade at his side.
Zuwaji called out into the hunter's mind, "Give up this foolish bravado, child!" His voice rang out in every voice the hunter had ever heard, and it shifted into a scream more painful than a hundred nails scratching a blackboard. As the terror began to take control, Zuwaji calmly walked towards his young opposition. Both the hunter and his pet ran in opposite directions, deep into the jungle. Zuwaji knew the panic would subside, and now, out here in the jungle, the hunter would have a better chance. His soul shield had taken a minor toll, and at least briefly, he wouldn't be able to protect himself in that manner. He would have to call on the Voodoo, and show the Tribe exactly what he was capable of. He slowly raised his hands up, and the Voodoo covered him, shadows appearing and climbing his form. A deep, purple haze emanated from his body. The shadows enveloped him completely, and he called out to the young one. "This is your final warning, whelp. Come out and surrender, or you will die." He hoped he would, but knew he would not.
Zuwaji charged into the jungle after his brother, wanting to be close when the raptor came to its senses. After a few moments of trailing the hunter, his raptor screamed as it approached Zuwaji from a few yards away. "More than enough time," he thought to himself as he began hexing the raptor in rapid succession. Lacerations appeared all over the raptor's body as he struggled to close the gap, and by the time he was within a couple feet, Zuwaji finished him off. He felt the spirit of the raptor as he consumed it, and grinned. As the raptor slumped to the ground, Zuwaji stumbled from the sudden impact of the hunter's spear. He had made his move while Zuwaji dismembered the pet. Though not a threat to his life, the raw force transferred into the shadows guarding him still packed a punch.
Normally, he wouldn't have targeted the pet. In this case, he assumed it would be the quickest way to draw out his enemy. He had been right. Zuwaji turned to face the hunter, who jumped back when his spear failed to pierce Zuwaji. Disbelief and fear painted his face more clearly than the orange smeared there. Zuwaji raised an arm towards the young hunter, and slowly closed his hand. The hunter reached for his knife again, and this time, brought it to his own throat. The he tried to scream, but his voice was silenced with his blade.
The crowd looked on as Zuwaji became visible, pushing aside brush with the raptor as he worked his way back to the crowd. The shadows withdrew into the ground as he approached. In one hand, he dragged the corpse of his opponent by the hair. In the other was the neck of his pet. Zuwaji tossed both into the crowd, and as they collapsed lifelessly, the crowd hushed. What had been nearly a riot was now reduced to whispers. "Should I waste more life for you, my Tribe?" He crossed his arms, and scanned the trolls for an idea of their impression. Most gazed, slack jawed yet attentive. "This pup was sure more would follow him to the next life!" His voice was seething, and he hoped fear would instill malleability. His fellow practitioners of the Voodoo were not as easily swayed, and most of their faces were easily read.
One stepped forward, Masata. He and Zuwaji had been friends for most of their lives, though on this point, they would never agree. "It is not clear what the spirits intend for our path, none of us can see it clearly!" He spoke with conviction, but less brashly than the dead troll in front of him once had. His mask had sat atop his head, but he lowered it into place before his face. "One thing is clear, however. To align ourselves with man and elf is an offense to the spirits. That much cannot be denied!"
"Your judgment is short-sighted, Masata. The will of the spirits is clouded because so many have been turned against us! Their essence is shackled by the Lich King, and our Tribe alone does not posses the power to stand against him. His hand may not have reached us yet, but his influence grows stronger with each passing day, and he fills the world with a darkness even I fear to tread." Zuwaji's gaze lowered and he shook his head. "I value the strength you bring the Bloodscalp, brother, but if you oppose our only chance at survival, I will do what I must." He lifted his head, and a cold calmness erased the sympathy that had etched his face. His hands raised slowly, and shadow covered his form once more.
Masata followed in turn. More shadow rose from their positions, flowing towards each other and colliding between the two. Their jaws moved rapidly as their hands made a variety of shapes. After a few moments, Masata's shadowy armor began to ripple, and as blades of darkness passed him by, they cut tears into the armor and Masata's flesh. He cried out in pain as Zuwaji's command of the Voodoo began to overreach his own.
His concentration faltering, Masata changed tactics, summoning a fiend from the shadows to assault Zuwaji, and give him a chance to prepare another strategy. Zuwaji recognized the maneuver, and crushed Masata's fiend with the word Death and a powerful gesture. As he did this, a shadowy bolt flew towards him from Masata's hands. He had taken cover and channeled the darkness into a deadly attack. Zuwaji dispersed into shadow, barely avoiding what could have ended the fight, and shadowy essence flowed towards Masata. As Zuwaji reformed nearby, he began chanting a mantra to assault Masata's very soul. Their minds raged against one another as they pelted their enemy with curses and hexes. Though Zuwaji was far from unscathed, Masata was clearly losing, and his attempts to maintain the assault against Zuwaji's unrelenting shadows brought him to a knee as he fought to keep himself. His efforts eventually proved to be in vain.
Masata grew too weary to continue, and the shadows evaporated from his body. He was lifted from the ground by the Voodoo, and Zuwaji raised him into a couple feet into the air. He coughed blood, and whispered out only loudly enough for Zuwaji to hear. "Good... the Bloodscalp will have hope." He grinned a bit, even as he faced his death.
"Goodbye, old friend," Zuwaji murmured under his breath, and scowled. He pierced his enemy's skull with shadow.
Lastly, have you read our rules and do you agree to them?:
Yes. I only have one question, and it's only out of curiosity that I ask. When you say resurrected in the bold text portion of policy #4, this is just from any character who can resurrect as a class spell? I only ask because earlier it seemed you made a point to note that death was permanent, but many characters can resurrect. I'm not questioning anyone's judgment, I'm just curious about the fine print.
Notes:
