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Hey Guys!
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how are you guys? im thinking about transferring over to this server, my friend corey plays here, and with you guys!

so i just am curoious about how RP works? do i need to RP to transfer to this server? or whats the story?

well im Chris, glad to get to talk to some of you!
At the unexpectedly hearty greeting, Ague glanced up from his scrying crystal. The cheerful voice belonged to a blood elf standing near the Mischief tables at the back of The Filthy Animal. Ague leaned back in his chair, running dry fingers over his bald skull as he appraised the newcomer. Those dead fingers against bony scalp rasped like a snake over sand. The faint noise drew the blood elf's eyes.

"Your accent, Death Knight, it marks you. You are an off-worlder."

The blood elf stared, perhaps confused.

"I cannot place it," Ague continued. "But it must be from somewhere prosperous. You're finely clad."

Ruptik the imp squealed with delight, licking up bits of skin off the Animal's stone floor; sheddings from Ague's peeling fingertips.

"That ring," Ague's eyes glanced down at it quickly. "I see you've stepped a bit into Ulduar as well."

The blood elf, fog-eyed, held up his hand to stare at his own ring. And then jumped, startled, as a succubus nudged by him to hand Ague a small box. The succubus moved behind Ague, and gave the death knight a quick wink, baring a fanged grin.

"Ah, thank you Aezvina," Ague smiled, and withdrew a cigarette from the box. He slipped it between his receeding lips and it sprang alight untouched. After a long whistling inhale, Ague turned his hooded eyes back on the blood elf. "Will you sit, offworlder? Tell me what brings you."

The blood elf noticed smoke seeping through rents in the warlock's robe, the fabric torn from exposed ribs and presumably heavy combat. He shook his lovely head as if to clear it, and blinked at Ague a few times before stepping forward to take the proffered chair...

“I swear, by my life and my love of it, that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.”
Gazing at the impressive warlock, the Blood Elf replied, " I am from Chromaggus, a distant place, yet so relative." as the confusion starts to fade, the Blood Elf realizes, that like home, this place and that place, are one in the same.

Pondering the things the warlock has said to him, he starts to answer back, slowly at first "Yes finely clad", as he again stares at the ring of the automaton, "This ring is a reminder, of the giant leviathan that was slain on the battlefields of Ulduar."

The Death Knight looking curiously at the undead gentleman before him, ponders the notion of informing him of the cancers of smoking, but ALAS! realizes that the irony of such a statement would just go to waste. The Death Knight takes the seat that the gracious Warlock has offered and sits down to talk awhile.
You are one weird individual Ague. RP is for creeps like Lethal hehe.
"Ague!" A voice bellows from the level below, followed soon by a beaked face poking itself up over the landing. The face was quickly followed by a strange and ammusing body, one which appeared much as an oversized, humanoid chicken, if such a thing were to exist. Closely behind the strange chicken-creature came another Blood-elf, this one not near as cheerier as the one sitting across the table from Ague. While the chicken-creatures demeanor was friendly, playful even, the Blood-elf was dark, almost evil. His very pressence seemed to chill the room.

"Ague, word on the street is that Emalon is causing an uproar again, Lucario and I think we should go teach him a thin...," The chicken-creature does a double take, seeing the strange new face at the Mischief table. His Blood-elf companion, Lucario, mearly smirks and fixes the newcommer with a cold stare. "Who's the new guy?"

With a poof, the chicken-creatures form melts into that of a Tauren, clad in rich green robes. On his right arm, clashing horribly with his otherwise calm and friendly outfit (and attitude), is a wicked-looking purple claw. "No matter," he says, "Im Phoof. Good to see you around here!"
Lumbering through the Great Woods of Hyjal, A massive beast emerges, his nostrils flaring with fire. His large mace digs trails behind him as it drags across the ground, the sheer weight of it causing it to grind deeper into the soft, damp, forest dirt.

"RAWWWWWWR," the large beast bangs its hand on its chest and raises a fist to the sky.

With a puff of black smoke, the great beast disappears amongst the trees, it's horns growing into branches and extending into the sky.

"Shapeshifting is laden with confusing troubles and a severe lack of hot tubs."
"Friends!" a boisterous voice boomed out from the entrance of the Filthy Animal. "Stalwart adventurers! Treasured compatriots! I have returned from the field of battle and am awash with gold! Bring me a flagon of your best wine, a buxom wench, and your finest meats and cheeses! If you were waiting for the right moment to celebrate, wait no longer, for I have arrived! I single-handedly defeated many of the most fearsome bosses of the evil Ulduar! They were no match for my sharp blades, my award-winning smile, my quick wits, and"

Lethal trailed off, noticing the Mischief table, where Ague was sitting, with curious eyes and an arched eyebrow.

"..and my good friends, twenty-four valiant members of the greatest guild on Azeroth, MISCHIEF. Come, all, over here into this corner," Lethal said, pointing to a table fairly far away from the Mischief table, "and I will tell you all about it, and of the amazing, and unbelievable sexual exploits that happened afterward at Roatch's mom's house! She was utterly insatiable, I can assure you."
Sharkweek cackles maniacly
The forsaken female casually walks up the table while brushing infinite dust off the sleeve of her robe.

She jerks her head towards Lethal, "Pay no attention to him, he's stealthed too close to Yogg-Saron's prison too often."

Similu takes a discreet sniff to inhale the smoke wafting in the air and then turns to a commotion in the corner. A tall and shapely troll is walking over with a wide grin on her face leaving the destruction of a train set and one mechanical gnome in her wake.

"Greetings Ague, traveler, Phoof, and Lucario." She turns to face the death knight traveler, "I am Similu." Another sniff of the air reveals another type of smoke. "Excuse me, my fish is burning."
Ague stubbed out his cigarette in a well-used gnomish skull ash tray and leaned forward to address the death knight.

"You can see we are quite healthy with damage dealers, off-worlder. What I seek is a brave soul equipped to stand toe to toe with any denizen of Ulduar...and survive." His lips peeled back in a challenging grin. "Are you such a one, blood elf? Can you tank?"

Ague's eyes slipped to the bar, where a buxom Taunkan bar wench regarded the warlock with eager familiarity. Her succulent udders were nearly leaping out of her bodice. "If not, off-worlder, I'm afraid I have other matters I must attend to..."

“I swear, by my life and my love of it, that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.”
*puts some popcorn on the stove*
You may continue.

In the beginning were the Words, and the Words made the world. I am the Words. The Words are everything. Where the Words end the world ends. You cannot go forward in an absence of space.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen...

The soft pop pop sound was soothing and the fish was not burnt after all. The sounds from the tables were muted here in the back. The Taunka serving wench breezed through with stars in her eyes and started to fill her tray once more.

Suddenly a brawny orc male stormed through the doorway.

"I'LL CUT A BITCH!" screamed Faustas as he stomped towards the wench. She screamed as a large wolf growled at her and the orc blazed fire from his eyes.

Similu and Glynnys shared a look and snickered softly to themselves.

"What? Was that too much?" Faustas asked as he sneered at the wench lying on the floor in a dead faint. He left the kitchen to go take a seat at the Mischief table.

"Ahhh," said the Forsaken female. "Things are certainly never boring around here, are they Glyn?"

The blood elf paladin was too busy trying to catch her breath to respond.
The Blood Elf takes all this in and ponders for a second.
He replies in a lovely fashion " I cannot stand toe to toe with the might of ulduar, as i have only gear affixed to deal massive damage."

As the Death Knight turns his head he metions " I have tried tanking before, but not really a fan, these such things are better left to Warriors and Paladins, as in the people i have had alliances with, have yet to show a good Death Knight Tank."

Sharkweek still sitting ponders the future, as he watches the sights around him.
A deep silence overtakes The Filthy Animal as another forsaken female enters the bar. Walking, is not her mode of transportation; she seems to be floating just above the ground, her shimmering teal robes just inches off the floor, flowing and belowing in the breeze caused by their own movement.

An orcish gentlemen at another table leans close to his compatriate and whispers, "That's her! That's Mirakl." Overhearing this, many of the other characteres at the bar turn to stare.

Mirakl gracefully floats on, and slightly turns her head to greet Similu with a proud not, and a playful wink. A smirk appears on to grow on the left side of her mangled jaw as she eyes Glynnys, obviously intrigued. Making her way upstairs, she takes a seat at the Mischief table opposite Phoof, adjacent to the new Blood Elf she's never seen before.

She eyes the Death Knight coldly, as if trying to peer inside of his soul. After a few moments, she turns to Ague and says, "I have faith in this one. While he has been the slayer of many, I can forsee a change in him. One day, perhaps, with proper coaching from our own Sinnox, we can teach this fellow, this Sharkweek, to brave the demons trapped within the depths of Ulduar."

She turns to look at the Blood Elf, who is obviously confused and distraught. "Fear not, friend." She says. "There are many things to learn about leading the charge, but I do not think that these will be a problem for you. Your gear is built to deal damage, but that can be fixed easily. Are you willing to learn? Are you willing to change? Are you willing to give everything you are to the glory of Mischief?"

Mirakl turns to face Ague, who understandably has a lot to consider, yet who has a history of putting faith into the people he takes under his wing. The Mirakl gives Ague a thumbs up.
"I regret to hear you are not a tank at heart, traveler." Ague rises from the table and extends his hand to the newcomer. The blood elf takes it and hardly shudders at the faint wriggling of what may be worms or veins beneath Ague's papery skin.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, and I have faith that you will find a guild here able to help quench your blood lust. I know it takes a certain selfless mindset to be a tank, and I thank you for your honesty about where your heart lies."

With a short bow, Ague takes his leave, and moves to collect the Taunka lass from the floor.

“I swear, by my life and my love of it, that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.”
Off in the corner of the bar, a female troll dressed in the glittering white robes of a priest is snoring peacefully on the table next to an empty cask of bourbon. At least she's peaceful. The mumbling in her sleep is probably not helping other people next to her.

"...*zzzzz* damn dice be fixed, I tellin' you.. *hrrunnnkk*...don't worry, I can put dat right back in... *snork* What do you be needin' a spleen for anyways? You dead, ain' chu? *wheeeze* What? I thought you was healin' him? *rrrmmmmmmm* Oooh, dat does NOT go up there.. Oops.."

Right as Ague says the words, "and survive" she snorts, twitches, and suddenly yells, "I wasn't standin' in fire!!" right before hitting the ground with a hard thump as she falls off her bench.

She looks around with wide, unseeing red eyes. "Tell him I weren't standin' in fi...OW!" A large spider, teal in color like the ones found near the depths of Blackrock Spire, jumps off the empty cask and lands on her head. "Urggghh...Get off mah head Mookie." She looks around the chaotic bar blearily muttering, "Ain' none of OURS bleedin' or dead yet..What's all the noise?" She peers through the gloom to Ague's usual table, as the strange blood elf answers the to-tank-or-not-to-tank question. She gets a funny look on her face, beady little red eyes gleaming under heavy lids. Is it a bad thing when a priest appears to be mentally checking for a reserved resurrection spell? Three fingers tap the table surface idly, as she appears to be looking at something just behind Sharkweek's left shoulder.

A huge yawn escapes from behind her tusks, as she inquires, "Did I hear you right, to be sayin' that Death Knights don't be makin' good tanks?" She doesn't even wait for his answer, before sketching a Prayer of Mending glyph in the air, the healing energies settling on Sharkweek's head. She waves a hand graciously, "Don't bother thankin' me.. it's the least I could do. I'm pretty sure she won't hurt you too bad, mon." After which point, she dives under the table, taking a full cask with her.

The door is pushed by some unseen hand, and Alosia steps into the bar. Not fully entering, she stands on the threshold with hands on hips, and pivots her head from one side of the bar to other. The two burning cobalt orbs that serve as her eyes competing with the candlelight to illuminate her absurdly ornate armor, they fixate upon the warlock and his charge.

A low growl begins to echo within her undead chest, and then is cut off as she composes herself.

"Competition, sighted." she intones darkly as she steps forward. The only one who hears this is the large orc bouncer beside the door. "Oye, not 'gain" the orc splutters as he explodes off the stool and makes a hurry towards the door.

One footfall follows another, and with each determined step another level of silence falls over the bar, and another head turns to watch.

Stalking towards the table with the warlock, hovering priest, and Blood Elf, Alosia comes. A wiry human in a finely tailored suit runs in front of the Death Knight with his hands in the air.

"Nononono. Please, calm down miss. There's no need fo..." Is all the proprietor can get out before all the air in his lungs evaporates. Eyes widening in horror, he struggles for breath against an unseen foe; hands rising to his neck to try to tear off that which is slowly killing him.

Alosia reaches forward, grabbing the human around the throat and tearing him off balance towards her. She brings the face of the man she is killing right up so that he can look into her eyes as his heart beats its last. "Opinion, unsolicited" she says without inflection or passion. Then with a violent, co-ordinated movement, Alosia throws the deceased owner through the air - sending him crashing into the wall where-after he crashes to the ground in an tangle of flesh and bone unattainable by the living.

Her eyes blaze as the rush of the kill courses through her unliving veins, and she stands behind the would-be recruit. Her dead eyes locked upon the back of the elf's neck as he finishes his conversation with Ague. Hearing the words of Sulida causes those hateful eyes to flash one more time.

Slowly, with great deliberation, Alosia reaches behind her to unsheath a massive sword longer than her body height, and brings it forward effortlessly until it is pointed on level with the head of the Elf. Her eyes look past the Elf, beyond the priestess, and fixate upon Ague. As Ague stands up, she waits for the sign - permission as it were. And in the simplest bow, she finds it.

"Insult, Noted." she intones just befor she lets loose a primal roar and raising her blade - brings the blade crashing down towards the head of the Elf. "Punishment, Death. Again."

The tangle of arms, legs, and limbs against the wall stirs and begins to stand. Its skin a non-living palor of white and grey. "Yesyesyes...Mistresss. Killlllll Ellllffff" it 'speaks' as it suddenly begins shambling towards the Death Knights with an unholy speed.
I hate you all.
Lurking in the dark recessses of the Filthy Animal's kitchen, hovering in the shadows, the large beast breathes, spotting his prey. In the corner of the bar, sitting at a table by himself, a lonely, yet jabbering Rogue, stammers to himself about his own adventures and greatness, gesturing wildly to himself as the patrons of the bar avoid his gaze.

"Friends! Come hither as I tell you of my great tales and you may dine with me as you listen to my greatness!" Lethal continues to shout in his drunkard ways.

After the puff of dark smoke clears in the kitchen, the druid beast has disappeared, leaving nothing but a small tuft of lion's furr in his place, but the deep gutteral breathing could not be quietted. The rumble of lungs on the prowl cannot be silenced without blood.

In a blurr of flesh and blood, Boar's Breath Dark Ale falls to the ground in splatters and a scream is heard.

The patrons of the bar turn at the sudden and unexpected silence coming from the corner Lethal once stood.

Silent now.

All that remains is a Flag of OwnershipRefresh This Item sticking out of the body of the undead rogue as he lays, flopped backward, across the table.

The flag twitches in the stale breeze of a hidden form dashing away, and the echos on the wind repeat the phrase in disgust: "...buxom wench...."

the bar goes back to it's affairs. More peaceful than before save the vomitous and disgusted belches of a beautiful Priestess Leelew, in the corner.

"Shapeshifting is laden with confusing troubles and a severe lack of hot tubs."
Fold walks into the bar and puts on his wizard robe and hat

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