I'm strict because I said this is a professional roleplay. I want people who put effort into it and want to try. I will not be accepting you. Your applications still aren't that good after being edited. You even included a "lolz cats version".
Ya know what. Sorry. Really truly am sorry for all the trouble i have caused but i would like to say something. Personally i didnt think i was spamming the chat first of all. And again sorry for those who think i was or am. I really (REALLY REALLY) hate having rivals. I hope you can accept this apoligy whoever reported me.
sorry for the inconvienince (<--- sorry don't know how to spell it) i was just fighting for my approval. you'll miss out on me not being in the group. if you don't accept this apology, I don't mind having enemies. So Bye.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
6/21/2011
Posts:
126
Minecraft:
FearTheReaPR
Member Details
Name; Ysmeil (E-sum-eel)
Age; 53
Powers;Illusions, simply illusions(Morphing=No-no in his book.)
Appearance;Ysmeil wears a mask at all times, so no-one can discover his face. This help in many advocations. His mask is shaded a blood red, with black streaks scattered across it. His hood also helps to create a mysterious aura about him. Ysmeil has no shoes, since he feels they would only slow him down. His body is slender and is able to bend in ways unheard of.(No this is not OP, he's just double jointed :tongue.gif: the way I describe it makes it more intersting :smile.gif:) His fingers are long and bony, and his long finger-nails are clouded with dust and dirt. He has strange markings all over his body, as if they were scars from an unruly battle.
Biography; Ysmeil was nearing his sage years when the "Gods" ravaged his village. He hid in a bramble bush nearby when the razing began. The "Gods" laughed maniacly at the burning villagers and huts. He saw his parents slain, his mother with a hole through her torso, and his father's head rolling into the bramble bush. He was in shock at the sight he had witnessed, leaving him the only survivor of his village. His tears molded with the earth, creating mud. He dug a grave for each of the members of his family, for his friends, and for the rest of his village, leaving a small coin with each of them for passage into the afterlife.
Ysmeil started cleaning up the village, picking up charred peices of wood, burying ashes, and rebuilding a hut for himself. He rebuilt the village, house by house, board by board. He soon learned of his gift, the ability to manipulate the different forms of the world into multiples. He would venture into a clearing in the wood, there he would practice his arts, bending the forms of illusional trees, flowers, and fungi alike.
He learned that his ability was more powerful than he had thought. While out in the woods, he spotted a doe. He had converged it into the shape from that which it came. The only difference was that this was no ordinary illusion. This specific one had a mind of its own. He decided to test this out, manipulating many more things, rocks, butterflies, grass. It didn't matter to him, all he knew was that this was something that should be taken serious.
When Ysmeil returned to the village, he had a brilliant idea. If he could create more of animals, why not make more of himself? His thought was quickly discarded after it created a disproportionate of himself. He recieved scars and a slender figure. His skin turned a pale green, and his face became filled with hatred of himself. He fashioned together multiple components to make a mask and hood. so no one would have to share the anguish he had. Ysmeil set out to find the people who ended his world, and created one of madness, so he could try to right the wrongs that were done in his life.
Additional info;Ysmeil never takes off his mask or hood, since he is afraid and disgusted with himself. He has a slightly hunched back. #!# oh and I can post everyday after 5, but not at all on Thursday because it's gamedays.
Want me to add anything;I think this is the first time I will have to say no to this.... (then I remebered this :biggrin.gif:) maybe instead of a desert, it could be a ravaged wasteland that the hooded people destroyed?
Accepted, I suppose. I don't quite understand his powers, please explain in detail. He can change the state of objects? Or just make things seem different than they are? And I don't like his age. Pretty much at the age of ten he has no magic capabilities but basics. Maybe edit that a little higher, since he'd be worn out after several seconds of illusions.
Accepted, I suppose. I don't quite understand his powers, please explain in detail. He can change the state of objects? Or just make things seem different than they are? And I don't like his age. Pretty much at the age of ten he has no magic capabilities but basics. Maybe edit that a little higher, since he'd be worn out after several seconds of illusions.
I made him ten because it says in the OP that it had only been four months, and it went with my bio x(. I can change it but that will take out a section of the bio. As for the powers its illusions only, since morphing or basiclly copying pasting IRL turned him hideous. I'll work on the bio right now!!
**Edit:
Es all fixed
***Edit(AGAIN!):
Told you the age would mess me up xD, but it's fixed nonetheless.
Okay... but his biography says as a young man his village was attacked yet it's only been four months. Fix that please. He's 50 but... just, fix it. xD
Powers; Words are his power. Telm was taught the true names of things, and he keeps this knowledge inside himself, using it like wood for a fire. As he burns the words from his memory, he unleashes huge bursts of energy and martial skill, heightening his reflexes, strength, and agility. However, in order to possess as much words as possible, Telm rarely talks, preferring to use a form of sign language to voice his opinions.
Appearance; Caucasian, with light, blond hair kept long, reaching to his chin. A strong jaw, pointed nose, and sea-blue eyes. He is lean, well muscled, and is on the sort side, at five foot four. He has a scar across his left index finger, and on his right hand he has a band of pure silver.
For clothing, Telm wears a tunic and pants of blood red color, marking him as a warrior of his people. His tunic is tied down by many heavy leather straps which, when released, allow him greater speed. For a weapon, Telm carries an ordinary, yet light and elegant blade, passed down from generation to generation.
Biography; Telm was born to the Laurthan society, a group of nomadic people, who reach for the perfection of a certain field. Telm, like his father and grandfather, was taught the way of the warrior. He was taught to perfect his every swing, stance, and parry, becoming a master of the blade at the early age of 17. Upon earning his mastery, Telm was taken in by a new teacher; Hyuty, Wielder of Words. Telm was taught the true names of all things in the world, and how to use them to enhance his skills. Finally, at the age of 19, Telm embarked in to the new world, ready to offer his services to those in need.
Although he did not know it at the time, Hyuty was one of the mysterious, God like beings that had tormented so many others. Once Telm had left, the creature destroyed the Laurthan civilization, reducing it to ash and rubble. Telm, confronted with the sight of the destruction of his people, swore to avenge the Laurthan's, and rest their troubled souls.
Personality wise, Telm is quiet and withdrawn, usually never uttering a word without it being absolutely necessary. He is young, however, and that tends to make him hot headed and rash, resulting in him making decisions and actions that would have been better served being thought out.
Additional info; The Laurthan's are humans. Just clearing that up.
Powers;In a strange connection to his name, Solis uses the energy of radiation to his advantage. This means lazers, small fusion explosions, (Think half a stick of dynamite), and occasionally, the ability to pass through walls via transforming into a pulse of gamma rays. However, he can severely damage his body through overuse of any of these. These powers, when being used, will also sometimes expode out of him unstoppably for short periods of time, usually blasting/cutting/burning a small crater into the ground.
Appearance;A young man still in his pride, Aracus is tall, gaunt and pale. He wears a thick, light grey cloak and hood constantly to disguise the fact that he is constantly glowing slightly with the power in him. His skin has many burn-like cuts from accidents with lasers that sprang from him when he got angry. His face is permanently fearful-looking from trying to hide from civilisation, and he tries not to make friends, due to the fact that he may hurt or kill them by accident with his powers. He wears a short knife at his belt, but is otherwise unarmed.
Biography; Aracus was born and grew up in a dry, semi-desert but still thriving town. He had several close friends, and was a normal person for most of his life. When he was older, he worked as a libarian, reading and taking care of books and records, and for a time, all was well.
Then, one fateful day, two cloaked figures appeared in the town. Mere minutes after their arrial, a fire broke out, a fire of intense blue flames that seemed to feed off air and water and hunted down people like a living creature. Solis, like everyone else, ran, seeking to escape the fire. He was the only one who did, although it didn't do him much good. The two men cornered him, and although he does not remember anything else of that day, he has never been the same.
He moved to another village to try and rebuild his life, but strange things began to happen around him that made ths difficult. Explosions menaced him when he was angry, and he sometimes fell straight through walls he was leaning on. When at last he realised he was the one causing the catastrophes, he fled the village, seeking not to harm anyone else with his strange ability. He has lived alone ever since, trying to hide from his own self.
Additional info;Nein.
Want me to add anything;Portal weapons. And a giant sign that says #!#.
[OOC] Accepted. You may all start roleplaying now, and we'll let other people apply when they want to. [/OOC]
Tiuk sighs, walking through the tall grass. The field was miles long, just endless waving grass. It almost looked like wheat, springing from the ground all the way up to his waist. That was impressive, however, as Tiuk now stands 7'2 after his encounter with "Them". A small village had been in sight for a mile or two. It stands atop a hill, and is almost forty houses. Farms dot the field, with various livestock crowding. It was too hot, on this continent. Tiuk wanted the cold. He hadn't felt the chill he was so used to in almost a year and a half now.
Arriving on the brink of the town, he can only hope they will let him in. The beast of a man hadn't eaten anything in two days. It wasn't out of helplessness, rather, he despised the taste of the deer around these parts. And other vermin weren't enough to feed him. Hopefully there will be a tavern, or a bar...
His luck prevails as a tavern springs into sight. A rusty iron bar holds a little wooden plaque, swinging in the light breeze. "The Frenzied Rabbit", it read. With a flourish of his hand the door opens, it's hinges creaking with his light push. Inside is about eight people all talking at a normal tone. A bartender, around the age of eighty, sits at the counter cleaning a wooden mug. He slowly groans out, "May I help you?" Tiuk smiles gently at him, laying his axe down against his seat. "Small cup of whatever alcohol you can muster, please." The mug arrives not seconds after, and Tiuk begins sipping upon it gently.
Telm walks in to the dusty, forlorn town, his boots making small imprints in the crumbling soil. His blod haired head scans the village, taking in the sights and sounds of the solitary town. Men busy at work chopping wood or killing animals, while the women bustled about, drawing water or doing dishes. Telm gives a nostalgic smile at the village; It reminds him of his home land, the peaceful, quiet nature. He continues on, his eyes looking for a place for rest and information. Finally, his eyes settle on a tavern, which he makes out to be the, "Frenzied Rabbit." Telm enters the tavern, his hands gently pushing the wooden door on rusted hinges.
He walks to the bar, taking a seat next to a barbaric looking individual, sipping on a mug of alcohol. As the bartender shuffles toward Telm to help him, Telm waves him away, instead taking out his water skin and drinking from it. As the warm liquid drains down his parched, dusty throat, Telm is reminded of the taste of ash in his mouth, the sight of his people's burnt, charred skeletons. He pushes the matter away from his mind, and focuses more on the people in the tavern, trying to see which ones he can use for information about his people's murderers.
Tiuk looks to the newcomer. With a grunt he slowly examines the man up and down. Seemed like a fighter, due to the blade. Maybe not a charging warrior like he was, always running into battle without thinking, but a fighter of course. "What's a man like you doing around here? You aren't one of the citizens." With a glance to the man's blood red tunic, he automatically notes that the citizens around the town were in simpler clothes.
Of course, none of them held a sword, either. So he had to be someone different. From around other parts.
Telm turns to the speaking man, noting him as the warrior he had categorized as some sort of barbarian. Telm does not reply to the man's question, though nhe understands it quite well. Instead, Telm flashes several hand gestures, making the signs for 'Just passing by.' It was quite obvious that the man would not understand what Telm was doing, but he could not risk releasing the words he held so preciously.
Tiuk wasn't that incredibly stupid. He'd had a mute in his village. And a deaf wanderer. They'd both joined the ranks of his small group. The "barbarian" hadn't learned how to use the symbols they did frequently, but he understood the word passing. "Passing by? I apologize... I am not fluent." Passing by was a fairly common gesture that Tiuk had gathered. It was a challenge he was welcome to take, trying to discern what the man means.
Telm nodded, and made a series of slow, basic signals, outlining what he was trying to say. 'Information needed,' he signaled. 'Two figures. Gods. Powerful. Kill everyone. My people, dead. Need to find them.'
"The pair? Looks like a lot of us share a bit of history. Was a chieftain for a village, they came in, fifteen minutes later, no more town." With a sigh he finishes his drink, passing it to the bartender a few seats down. It slides across the wooden table, stopping short. Tiuk continues, this time a bit slower. "I know nothing of them, except for the fact they're heartless. They toy with you... give you unbelievable power, give you a chance... but you never can use it. They kill you. I saw a woman cut one in half with some sort of... power. It came from her eyes... the blood regrouped... it formed a whole new person. It was like he was never hurt. They just laughed and killed her. I don't understand them." He looks down to the counter with a sigh. He'd never cry over something like this, he hadn't in years. But he was certainly emotional. An idea began forming. An alliance. A loose friendship. The man could be of use.
Tiuk wasn't particularly fond of the idea about going after the pair, but with enough people who can handle themselves, it'd be worth the shot.
((Heh. I just realised Laz has no reason to hate the pair, according to the bio I gave him. The Pair didn't kill anyone he knew really, just set fire to a building. Ah, well, I'll think of something.))
Lazarus entered the small town. It reminded him of home in a way, both being small. He figured there would be a tavern nearby, since there was one in almost every town. Or at least an inn. It didn't take long for him to find one called "The Frenzied Rabbit."
He entered through the wooden door, the hinges creaking, and saw two out of place people over by the bar. One had a blood-red tunic on, along with a sword, and the other was a 7-foot something monster of a man. Figuring they'd be the most interesting company, he sat down by them. He sat closer to the man with the red tunic rather than the giant.
The bartender came over and asked him what he'd want, but Laz took water rather than alcohol. He was never a fan of alcohol.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm always happy just 'cause there isn't a reason to be sad.
Don't take this as there is nothing that could cause sadness. I just mean it's pointless to dwell on it. I mean, depression is so boring.
-Poke675
Age; 53
Powers;Illusions, simply illusions(Morphing=No-no in his book.)
Appearance;Ysmeil wears a mask at all times, so no-one can discover his face. This help in many advocations. His mask is shaded a blood red, with black streaks scattered across it. His hood also helps to create a mysterious aura about him. Ysmeil has no shoes, since he feels they would only slow him down. His body is slender and is able to bend in ways unheard of.(No this is not OP, he's just double jointed :tongue.gif: the way I describe it makes it more intersting :smile.gif:) His fingers are long and bony, and his long finger-nails are clouded with dust and dirt. He has strange markings all over his body, as if they were scars from an unruly battle.
Biography; Ysmeil was nearing his sage years when the "Gods" ravaged his village. He hid in a bramble bush nearby when the razing began. The "Gods" laughed maniacly at the burning villagers and huts. He saw his parents slain, his mother with a hole through her torso, and his father's head rolling into the bramble bush. He was in shock at the sight he had witnessed, leaving him the only survivor of his village. His tears molded with the earth, creating mud. He dug a grave for each of the members of his family, for his friends, and for the rest of his village, leaving a small coin with each of them for passage into the afterlife.
Ysmeil started cleaning up the village, picking up charred peices of wood, burying ashes, and rebuilding a hut for himself. He rebuilt the village, house by house, board by board. He soon learned of his gift, the ability to manipulate the different forms of the world into multiples. He would venture into a clearing in the wood, there he would practice his arts, bending the forms of illusional trees, flowers, and fungi alike.
He learned that his ability was more powerful than he had thought. While out in the woods, he spotted a doe. He had converged it into the shape from that which it came. The only difference was that this was no ordinary illusion. This specific one had a mind of its own. He decided to test this out, manipulating many more things, rocks, butterflies, grass. It didn't matter to him, all he knew was that this was something that should be taken serious.
When Ysmeil returned to the village, he had a brilliant idea. If he could create more of animals, why not make more of himself? His thought was quickly discarded after it created a disproportionate of himself. He recieved scars and a slender figure. His skin turned a pale green, and his face became filled with hatred of himself. He fashioned together multiple components to make a mask and hood. so no one would have to share the anguish he had. Ysmeil set out to find the people who ended his world, and created one of madness, so he could try to right the wrongs that were done in his life.
Additional info;Ysmeil never takes off his mask or hood, since he is afraid and disgusted with himself. He has a slightly hunched back. #!# oh and I can post everyday after 5, but not at all on Thursday because it's gamedays.
Want me to add anything;I think this is the first time I will have to say no to this.... (then I remebered this :biggrin.gif:) maybe instead of a desert, it could be a ravaged wasteland that the hooded people destroyed?
<- Please. ._.
I made him ten because it says in the OP that it had only been four months, and it went with my bio x(. I can change it but that will take out a section of the bio. As for the powers its illusions only, since morphing or basiclly copying pasting IRL turned him hideous. I'll work on the bio right now!!
**Edit:
Es all fixed
***Edit(AGAIN!):
Told you the age would mess me up xD, but it's fixed nonetheless.
Age; 20
Powers; Words are his power. Telm was taught the true names of things, and he keeps this knowledge inside himself, using it like wood for a fire. As he burns the words from his memory, he unleashes huge bursts of energy and martial skill, heightening his reflexes, strength, and agility. However, in order to possess as much words as possible, Telm rarely talks, preferring to use a form of sign language to voice his opinions.
Appearance; Caucasian, with light, blond hair kept long, reaching to his chin. A strong jaw, pointed nose, and sea-blue eyes. He is lean, well muscled, and is on the sort side, at five foot four. He has a scar across his left index finger, and on his right hand he has a band of pure silver.
For clothing, Telm wears a tunic and pants of blood red color, marking him as a warrior of his people. His tunic is tied down by many heavy leather straps which, when released, allow him greater speed. For a weapon, Telm carries an ordinary, yet light and elegant blade, passed down from generation to generation.
Biography; Telm was born to the Laurthan society, a group of nomadic people, who reach for the perfection of a certain field. Telm, like his father and grandfather, was taught the way of the warrior. He was taught to perfect his every swing, stance, and parry, becoming a master of the blade at the early age of 17. Upon earning his mastery, Telm was taken in by a new teacher; Hyuty, Wielder of Words. Telm was taught the true names of all things in the world, and how to use them to enhance his skills. Finally, at the age of 19, Telm embarked in to the new world, ready to offer his services to those in need.
Although he did not know it at the time, Hyuty was one of the mysterious, God like beings that had tormented so many others. Once Telm had left, the creature destroyed the Laurthan civilization, reducing it to ash and rubble. Telm, confronted with the sight of the destruction of his people, swore to avenge the Laurthan's, and rest their troubled souls.
Personality wise, Telm is quiet and withdrawn, usually never uttering a word without it being absolutely necessary. He is young, however, and that tends to make him hot headed and rash, resulting in him making decisions and actions that would have been better served being thought out.
Additional info; The Laurthan's are humans. Just clearing that up.
Want me to add anything; #!# should do nicely.
Age;28.
Powers;In a strange connection to his name, Solis uses the energy of radiation to his advantage. This means lazers, small fusion explosions, (Think half a stick of dynamite), and occasionally, the ability to pass through walls via transforming into a pulse of gamma rays. However, he can severely damage his body through overuse of any of these. These powers, when being used, will also sometimes expode out of him unstoppably for short periods of time, usually blasting/cutting/burning a small crater into the ground.
Appearance;A young man still in his pride, Aracus is tall, gaunt and pale. He wears a thick, light grey cloak and hood constantly to disguise the fact that he is constantly glowing slightly with the power in him. His skin has many burn-like cuts from accidents with lasers that sprang from him when he got angry. His face is permanently fearful-looking from trying to hide from civilisation, and he tries not to make friends, due to the fact that he may hurt or kill them by accident with his powers. He wears a short knife at his belt, but is otherwise unarmed.
Biography; Aracus was born and grew up in a dry, semi-desert but still thriving town. He had several close friends, and was a normal person for most of his life. When he was older, he worked as a libarian, reading and taking care of books and records, and for a time, all was well.
Then, one fateful day, two cloaked figures appeared in the town. Mere minutes after their arrial, a fire broke out, a fire of intense blue flames that seemed to feed off air and water and hunted down people like a living creature. Solis, like everyone else, ran, seeking to escape the fire. He was the only one who did, although it didn't do him much good. The two men cornered him, and although he does not remember anything else of that day, he has never been the same.
He moved to another village to try and rebuild his life, but strange things began to happen around him that made ths difficult. Explosions menaced him when he was angry, and he sometimes fell straight through walls he was leaning on. When at last he realised he was the one causing the catastrophes, he fled the village, seeking not to harm anyone else with his strange ability. He has lived alone ever since, trying to hide from his own self.
Additional info;Nein.
Want me to add anything;Portal weapons. And a giant sign that says #!#.
Tiuk sighs, walking through the tall grass. The field was miles long, just endless waving grass. It almost looked like wheat, springing from the ground all the way up to his waist. That was impressive, however, as Tiuk now stands 7'2 after his encounter with "Them". A small village had been in sight for a mile or two. It stands atop a hill, and is almost forty houses. Farms dot the field, with various livestock crowding. It was too hot, on this continent. Tiuk wanted the cold. He hadn't felt the chill he was so used to in almost a year and a half now.
Arriving on the brink of the town, he can only hope they will let him in. The beast of a man hadn't eaten anything in two days. It wasn't out of helplessness, rather, he despised the taste of the deer around these parts. And other vermin weren't enough to feed him. Hopefully there will be a tavern, or a bar...
His luck prevails as a tavern springs into sight. A rusty iron bar holds a little wooden plaque, swinging in the light breeze. "The Frenzied Rabbit", it read. With a flourish of his hand the door opens, it's hinges creaking with his light push. Inside is about eight people all talking at a normal tone. A bartender, around the age of eighty, sits at the counter cleaning a wooden mug. He slowly groans out, "May I help you?" Tiuk smiles gently at him, laying his axe down against his seat. "Small cup of whatever alcohol you can muster, please." The mug arrives not seconds after, and Tiuk begins sipping upon it gently.
He walks to the bar, taking a seat next to a barbaric looking individual, sipping on a mug of alcohol. As the bartender shuffles toward Telm to help him, Telm waves him away, instead taking out his water skin and drinking from it. As the warm liquid drains down his parched, dusty throat, Telm is reminded of the taste of ash in his mouth, the sight of his people's burnt, charred skeletons. He pushes the matter away from his mind, and focuses more on the people in the tavern, trying to see which ones he can use for information about his people's murderers.
Of course, none of them held a sword, either. So he had to be someone different. From around other parts.
Tiuk wasn't particularly fond of the idea about going after the pair, but with enough people who can handle themselves, it'd be worth the shot.
Lazarus entered the small town. It reminded him of home in a way, both being small. He figured there would be a tavern nearby, since there was one in almost every town. Or at least an inn. It didn't take long for him to find one called "The Frenzied Rabbit."
He entered through the wooden door, the hinges creaking, and saw two out of place people over by the bar. One had a blood-red tunic on, along with a sword, and the other was a 7-foot something monster of a man. Figuring they'd be the most interesting company, he sat down by them. He sat closer to the man with the red tunic rather than the giant.
The bartender came over and asked him what he'd want, but Laz took water rather than alcohol. He was never a fan of alcohol.
Don't take this as there is nothing that could cause sadness. I just mean it's pointless to dwell on it. I mean, depression is so boring.