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About Angawen

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  1. Angawen

    Sifar Beld

    I was sitting in a bar in Stormwind. Probably not the bar you're thinking of. Not a lot of people go there. Not longshanks anyways. It's a proper dwarf bar, despite its location. You'd hardly know it, but there are almost as many dwarves living in Stromwind as there are in Ironforge, so there's gotta be someplace for us to find a decent drink. It's the only place in the whole bloody city you can get a stein of Thunderbrew or Shimmerstout. So I'm sitting there, in the corner under the stairs, as usual, after my patrol wrapped up. Ever since getting transfered to Stormwind that's where I spent my evenings, that or passed out drunk in the barraks. I'm halfway through my sixteenth.. or was it seventeenth?.. Thunderbrew when this little pink haired twit of a gnome shuffles on over and sticks his ugly mug in my face. I was more than a little tossy by this point and I don't like company on a good day. Well, leastwise not since... hmm nevermind. Anyhow. The little bugger starts babblin' on about something. I'm not paying much attention and then I catch the name Sifar. " 'ang on thar wee fella." I says to him. "Whotcha wantin' ta know 'bout tha lass fer?" He twittered some nonsense about oh-do-you-know-her? like I'm an idiot. "Bloody hell ah do! Good lass. One o' tha few ah knew back in tha' day tha' were worth 'er salt. Bit young, still learnin' tha ropes but loads o' potential.." that's when I see the device. Now I have to tell you, I fekin' hate gnomes. Wee freaks irradiated their own city. They're flippy and floppy and batty as a Darkshire belfry. Not a one of the lot knows when to keep their yaps shut, and you can't be too careful in these days. So I grab the thing, looked like a souped up chatbox, in one hand and the front of the peck's overalls in the other. I lift him off the ground and get right in his face and I says to him. "Look here ye wee bugger. Ah dunnay like tha smell o' ye an' ah certainly dunnay like yeh sniffin' about here fer infermation on tha lass. She's been through 'nough already. Iffin' she's in any trouble, ye'd best get it out now b'fer ah beat it out o' ye.... Nay trouble ye say? Whot? A paper article?! Now look here lad, ye take this wee thing an' ye shove it. If ah hear ye've bene askin' about Sifar again ah'll be comin' down ta bust some heads y'hear?" Towards the end there it was hard to keep a straight face. Little fella went white as a ghoul and started sputtering and muttering. When I finally let him loose he took off post haste. Ain't seen his little pink head since. Good riddance if you ask me. Still.. it makes me think... where did Sifar end up? Wonder if she's still in the ranks. Havn't seen her since I left. I wonder if she's still got those daggers....
  2. I'm not sure about gnomes, but I'd wager a guess on why cloth wearers aren't allowed. Clothies tend to be of the more 'learned' professions, ones that require study and by association, a city in which to study. The same reasons that Tauren can't be any of the Cloth wearing classes (rural/tribal/nomadic culture). I'm sure you could argue no-gnomes based on that same premise, but then I've always wanted to play a feral leper gnome who was rescued as a baby and raised by troggs... well, maybe not. Anyhow, it sounds like a fun idea! Good luck!
  3. Not so much a misstell, but I love watching people get drunk and then try to type or /emote the word SIT. Especially when they emote it and the filter adds in the extra -H-. H is for Hilarity. Being a Regiment Dwarf I have several screenshots of the "drunken sitting" phenomena, I save them for blackmail. Muahahaha. One day I am sure I will slip up and do it myself, but that's Karma for you. And to continue the tangent, I'm a very stereotypical Aquarius even though I'm on the cusp with Capricorn. However I doubt I come across as such on messageboards because of the whole lack of tone and anonymity thing.
  4. This is it as far as WoW related artwork that I've actually finished. I have a stack of sketches and inked drawings that just need scanning and coloring, but alas my poor old scanner was not up to the task. I'm getting a brand new shiny scanner this weekend so hopefully I'll have some more goodies to post in the following month. But for now this is it. Dwarven Drop Commandos - Inspired by actual events.
  5. Angawen

    Lvl 22

    And here my fist thought was: "Ooh, finally a rendition of large boobies that doesn't make them look like they have their own gravitational field." For real, what do you guys think happens to natural breasts once they reach a certain size? I think the artwork is very nicely done, good work. I would really like to see a before/after comparison side by side. Seems like Vilmah has been thorough a lot since then. Oh, and great shading too! I never have the patience for shading with pencil.
  6. You are welcome to submit an application, although I'm detecting a hint of sarcasm I think? You're not an orc are you? :lol: If you are serious then here is a link to our recruitment page.
  7. Angawen looks up from her paperwork and sets her quill to the side. “Eh? Cap’… er Pylith? Sorreh, old habits die hard. Aye, ah know ‘im, well, more tha’ ah know o’ him. He ‘ent been aboot as much since ah’ve been in tha Regiment, left fer a bit an’ came back changed. Followin’ tha Light now, which ah’m pleased ta see, we kin always put anotha paladin ta good use whot wit’ all tha enthusiastic hunters ‘n warriors in tha ranks. He were tha Captain o’ Grimsilver an’ ah’ve heard many a grand tale abouts ‘im, but nay gotten ta fight wit’ ‘im muchleh. Ah’m expectin’ tha’ll change now ‘e’s back. Hmm…” She ruffles through her parchments, pulling out a couple of beer stained pages. “Aye, ah’d be real keen ta adventure wit’ him more, his experience would be a boon ta all o’ us tha’ve nay traveled tha lands quite as much as himself. Ah think ah coulds learn a lot from ‘im indeed…”
  8. Angawen


    Full Name: Angawen Stonehelm Nicknames: Angie Age: 74 Race: Bronzebeard Dwarf Gender: Female Hair: Gold-Blonde Skin: Tanned Eyes: Green Build: Taller than average and muscular. Place of residence: Ironforge, Mystic Ward Place of Birth: Kharanos, Dun Morogh Known Relatives: Agitha Dubloch (cousin) Religion/Philosophy: Angie follows the Light, and also pays homage to Khaz and her Earthen heritage. Occupation: Paladin, Armorsmith, Illuminator and Scribe Group/Guild affiliation: Ironforge Regiment Guild Rank: Captain of the Mithril Shield Company Enemies: Horde, Scourge, DarkIron Clan Dwarves, Troggs Likes: A hot forge, a cold ale and the smell of bacon. Favorite Foods: Anything made of meat. Favorite Drinks: Dwarven Stout. Favorite Colors: Gold, silver. Weapons of Choice: Hammers and Axes. Dislikes: Snoring pigs. Hobbies: Who has time for hobbies? Physical Features: Angie has waist length gold hair that she keeps tied at the nape of her neck with a long white ribbon. Eight tiny braids dot the ponytail, each clasped in rings of metal; one copper, one silver, one gold, three iron and two mithril. Her skin is tanned, and she has sun-freckles across her cheeks. She has a burn scar on the palm of her left hand. She'd be considered rather plain by most, homely even. She keeps herself in good shape but is rarely seen without her armor on unless she's at the forge or in uniform. Positive Personality Traits: Honest, Loyal, Compassionate Negative Personality Traits: Pessimistic sometimes, tends to bottle up her anger rather than expressing it. Misc. Quirks: When she's upset she'll fiddle with the braids in her hair, and she will pretend to be oblivious to romantic advancements which makes her seem somewhat awkward and slow. Thougths on Allied Races: Night Elves: She's not sure what to think of most Night Elves, and tends to take a while to warm up to them. A few excellent examples of the race are changing her mind slowly so she now views them with much less mistrust than she used to. Humans: In general she likes humans, finding them to be humerous and stalwart companions. Gnomes: Gnomes creep her out. They're tiny, smell funny, and she thinks that most of them are utter morons. They might be engineering whizzes, but they've made some idiotic mistakes. Seldom does one prove to her that it's worth trusting with anything. When she is near gnomes she tends to do a lot of eye rolling. Dwarves: She gets on very well with the Bronzebeard and Wildhammer clans, and is distrustful of most DarkIrons. Thoughts on Horde Races: Trolls: Hardly better than animals. Orcs: At the end of the wars she had a grudging respect for Thrall's decisions, recent events and run-ins with Orcs in azeroth have caused her to become bitter and distrustful of them. She now views Thrall's attempts to make peace as nothing more than a ploy. Tauren: She knows little of the Tauren, but each one she has met has created the impression of a warmongering brute. News of their attacks on Dwarven outposts in Kalimdor make her even more wary of them. Forsaken: They're dead, she doesn't care what lines they're spouting, she doesn't trust them and will kill them just like any other scourge. History: Angawen was born in Kharanos and spent most of her life there learning the arts of the priest and scribe at her mother's knee. When she was about twenty the family picked up and moved to Loch Modan, where she spent the latter part of her youth training as an apprentice blacksmith under her father. Soon she began spending more time with a distant cousin of hers named Agitha Dubloch. She and Agitha spent many hours gallavanting around the loch and getting into trouble, it was then that she first started using her blacksmith's hammer for more than forging steel. Drawing on that experiance and her knowledge of the priestly arts she decided to enlist in the Mountaineers just after the beginning of the first war. She spent the next thirty odd years with the Mountaineers stationed around Khaz Modan. Eventually she worked her way up to the rank of Head Combat Medic during the last war, and though she did not actively fight the burning leigion she healed and cared for those who did. When her enlistment with the Mountaineers was up she took the advice of her commanding officer and set off to learn the paladin's art. Since then she and Agitha have spent their time adventuring under the comission of the Ironforge Regiment.
  9. I write letters in game in my accent simply because it feels weird not to. I understand why I shouldn't, but for me it feels more immersive and less character breaking to just continue on with the accent. Same thing for dropping the accent when I speak Dwarvish. And I'm shocked no one has linked this before.. don't you all read Order of the Stick?!? NO!?! Shame Shame Shame...
  10. You should have said...More DOTS! More DOTS! *hide* I have caught myself, while driving in an unfamiliar area, trying to verify my position by looking up and to the right... at the mini-map. Doh! I was also reading a favorite comic recently where one of the characters was surprised, and therefore had a giant yellow exclamation point over her head. And my immediate thought was.. hey, what quest does she have? The first weekend I ever did a battleground I ended up doing about twenty in a row.. yeah.. I was killing horde in my sleep all that night and the next. That's about all I remember though, except that I was jealous that horde got Merlocs as a new race and alliance got something really stupid, though I don't remeber what it was, they were smallere than gnomes though and I was pissed. Heh. Maybe it was smurfs.
  11. Try to get some artwork done. Fight with my mac, eventually give up and either play on Vent Co (Horde side look for Kahera, orc hunter) or read a book. ~Angie
  12. Ang-a-wen rhymes with Tang and pin. But most should just call her Angie. Not Anga, Angie. I do have a RL friend who pronounced it Anga-wen, rhymes with Manja or well, with a "J" sound instead of a "G" sound. But I pronounce it the other way mysef. With a scottish accent. So just call me Ahhhn-Geeeeh!
  13. ((WeRoWriGo - Tale about Angawen's contemplations of her promotion to Leiutenant. Helpful Critique welcome!)) The Mithril Braid Angawen strode across the quiet calm of the pre-dawn Mystic ward. She gripped the bundle tightly in her left hand as she fished for her key in her belt pouch. Drawing the small twisted iron object out she quickly undid the locks on the front door of a small, dingy stone residence and let herself in. The room inside was far cozier than the exterior let on. Two beds along the far wall, a small stone hearth and a table set for two were all the furnishings it held. Still it was crowded, packed with hunting trophies, rugs of fur and cloth, stacks of books and more than a couple stacks of dusty armor and weapons laying about. Angawen looked around, glad to find that her cousin, Agitha, was not home as of yet. She always preferred to do this alone, indeed she was relatively sure that Agitha herself was out celebrating in her own fashion. Clearing a place at the table she laid down the bundle gently before turning away. She changed into a long grey woolen night shift embroidered with her clan’s crest over the heart, stowing her neatly folded Regimental uniform into the chest by her bedside. She lingered over the new spalders before setting them atop the folded tabard along with her company pin. Only after those items were safely stowed did she turn and sit before the bundle and opened it, withdrawing her tools. Three tiny clasps of the finest mithril, a small and highly polished mirror of truesilver and a comb wrought from a boar’s tusk and inlaid with copper and gold. She paused over the comb, running her calloused fingers along the edges of the runes that spelled out her name. After a moment’s reflection she set it to the side and lit a candle. Taking up the comb once more she began to comb out her long blonde tresses. She’d bound them back as usual before the ceremony, controlled by the white ribbon that she’d cast on the floor. Now her hair flowed past her waist, studded with six tiny braids each about as big around as a child’s finger and clasped in three bands of metal. She paused to touch each one in turn and remember their meaning. Copper bands for learning to read and write the Dwarven and Common tongues to her mother’s satisfaction. She closed her eyes and remembered her shaky child’s script, her mother’s proud face, and her first lesson in the tradition of her mother’s clan, the Longbraids. Silver bands for learning to heal with the aid of the Light at her mother’s instruction, how proud she had been to have inherited her skills! The second braid placed at her mother’s gentle hands. Iron bands to tribute her apprenticeship to the blacksmith’s trade under her father’s watchful gaze. A few burns in tribute also, but they had faded where the iron still shone dully amid her gold locks. Gold bands on gold hair, the first she’d braided in herself upon reaching adulthood. Iron again, for when she had gone off to war wearing the uniform of a Mountaineer of Ironforge. Those were hard years, her first away from home, and how those bands had helped her, reminded her of her duty and her past as well. She paused over the last braid, another iron band, this one braided in quite recently, the bands still looked new and even a bit shiny. She rolled it between her fingers and smiled. This one was for her acceptance into the Ironforge Regiment when her enlistment with the Mountaineers had ended. And now she came to a spot where there was no braid, this loose, unbound hair she took up and brushed with long slow strokes. Carefully she separated the strands, choosing the ones she wanted and setting the others aside. When she was satisfied with her choice she began to braid. With each nimble twist of her fingers she drew up all her memories of the night. She smelled ale and smoke from Brukk’s, the metallic scent of the Great Forge, the warm comforting smell of her freshly cleaned uniform. She heard the voices of her friends and leaders, their cheers and jubilations with the dull roar of the forge beyond. She could see the dazzling lights, the fireworks. She took in all these as she clasped on the first band if gleaming mithril. She remembered the joyful look on the faces of the other promoted Regimenters, their happy congratulations of each other, the camaraderie between them all. These memories she poured into the second band that she clasped about the braid. Finally she turned her mind to the tasks that lay yet before her, drudgery and paperwork to be sure, but also the satisfaction and pride in aiding her company and friends. As she clasped the last band about the end of the braid she whispered a prayer to the Light as she had for each of the others. She dwelt on her memories for a moment longer and then laid down her comb. The candle had burned low now, and her own eyes were unwilling to stay open. She yawned hugely. “Tha’s enough excitement fer one evenin’ ta be sure. Light be blessed ah’d best get some sleep while ah’m able!” With a sigh she blew out the candle and carried herself off for the night’s rest.
  14. Single Female Draenei seeks Blacksmith with grinding stone to take care of me and my perfect hooves! Yeah I'm right there with you, except that female dwarves are still #1 in my book. But don't forget the HORNS! <3 <3 <3 Seriously, I like the ir look way more than the Belf look. Maybe it's because they seriously remind me of like, the bastard love child of the Trolls and Satyrs from Changeling... *nerd* :oops:
  15. *cheers* Hurray, it's Roo! We need to get more of the IFR dwarves over here and start causing a proper dwarven ruckus. *grin* I've never really had trouble with alts or rerolling (though Agitha is another story). But I'm glad that you've decided to stick with Ruinhammer, I for one think he's great!