This is an application for my brother, written by him.
OOC:
IGN: nobark_noonan
Age: 17
Why us?: My brother is playing this server and I want to help him and this server a bit by joining and adding to the RP.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: No.
Define Role-Playing in your words: Immersing yourself in a set scenario and interacting with others playing the persona of a different person.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Using out of character information in character. Like if someone in global chat said where they were going to kill someone, and your character killed that guy for no reason save for the fact he was going to kill your friend or acquaintance.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Forcing actions upon another player. Like dodging every hit and making sure all your hits do extra damage, or forcing someone out of your way when you're running.
IC:
Name: Edwin Bolton
Nickname: N/A
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Race: Breton
Appearance: Dark green eyes, brown hair, and a well kept beard he enjoys to fiddle with. He is 6'0", and looks to be about his age. He has an average muscle build, nothing too impressive.
Personality: He is belligerent, but can be appropriate when needed. He is a friendly guy, and he doesn't like to thrust himself into situations. He is not shy, and is very bold. He is proud of his heritage and sometimes his arrogance can get the best of him.
In-game RP Fight example:
*Bandit thrusts his blade forward at Edwin in an attempt to quickly end him*
*Edwin sidesteps and goes to grab the hand with his left hand, while his right hand builds momentum for a strike, suspending away from the bandit to deal a swift and deadly wide swipe*
*Bandit manages to slip from Edwin's weak grasp and attempts to hop backwards to get away from the strike*
*Edwin is pulled towards the bandit (because the bandit squirmed and pulled away from Edwin's grasp) as he releases his blade in a wide strike, cutting the bandit's neck and the side of his blade penetrates deep into the side of his neck. Edwin pulls out the blade as blood spills out uncontrollably from the bandit's neck.*
Background:
Edwin Bolton, son of Robert and Laila Bolton, youngest brother to his only sibling, Galeran Bolton, was born in a small keep in High Rock. He was part of a noble family known for their expertise in dispatching foes of their liege, but also were knights. As the Great War continued, the nobles began to decline due to uprisings in their land, and House Bolton was no exception. Edwin and his brother, like their father, trained to be great swordsman and archers, but their time was cut short. When Edwin was fourteen, the peasants decided enough was enough and rebelled against their oppressive rulers.
The Bolton's keep was breached, bannermen and guards slaughtered, and Robert and Laila were at the peasant's mercy. They were killed, but Galeran took Edwin and ran for the fastest ship in their docks. The boat was for emergency purposes, stocked with entertainment, food, and drink. Galeran grabbed what few bannermen were left and sailed for months past the Sea of Ghosts, and soon into an almost endless ocean. Famine soon became an issue on the boat, as did rations. Many men were killed, and soon Edwin, Galeran, and all that were left sailed into the dock of Septimia.
Why us?: Googled Adult roleplay server, you came up, looked intriguing, as I enjoy the Elder Scrolls Series.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Not yet, I'll do that if I enjoy you server ;-)
Define Role-Playing in your words: (See front page for examples) Assuming and acting out a role, playing the game as if you were that character.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Using out of character information In-character.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Attempting to force actions through role play onto your co-players, instead of playing them out.
Character Information:
Name: Qorwynn
Nickname: N/A
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Race: Altmer
Appearance: Tall, typically elf like, with some scarring on the left side of his face and body.
Personality: Introvert, troubled, Aggressive if pushed.
In-game RP Fight example:
Qorwynn *Out of his towers window he notices the man approaching his front door* Go away! *He shouts *
Cleric Not likely, we're hear on official orders.
Qorwynn *He shakes his head.* I don't do official business.
Cleric You do when the court summons you.
Qorwynn *he decends the stairs and opens the door* Come in while I get some things together.
Cleric *He enters*
Qorwynn *He slams the door behind him, and pulls out a dagger from under his robe, and presses it against the man's back* I'm retired.
Cleric You press your dager against the back of the kings cleric?
Qorwynn *He eases it off and says* Go away.
Cleric *As it eases off he spins, and whacks him on the face with the backhand of his fist*
Qorwynn *He stumbles and falls to the floor, hitting his head as he falls, falling unconscious*
Cleric *he binds his hands and drags him down the road, by a piece of rope.*
Background:
An Altmer from Alinor, on the Summerset Isles, Qorwynn served as a successful mage and conjurer since he was a boy. Never being the combatant sort, he spent most of his time researching and experimenting, and even advised the Dominion on magical issues from time to time, though this was never a permanent appointment, at least not yet, as he was still young and had hoped to have this ahead of him. However, about six years previous to this day, he was involved in an incident, which ended any hope of an official appointment.
You see, some of his research was on the edge of what was considered acceptable by the dominion, pushing the boundaries into necromancy and other ancient forbidden spells. One day he was confronted by an elder mage on his work, and in a bid prove it was safe and stable, he attempted to use and control a spell of force he was researching. However he had not had time to fully realize it's potential, or indeed script in the necessary controls into the spell, and instead what resulted was a giant fireball that engulfed his chambers, the visiting official and two neighboring buildings, a mill and a residence.
Though the gods spared him his life, this blunder left the burn scars seen on his face, and ended his time as a respected mage on the Summerset Isles. He was spared his life again, this time by the dominion, as a gesture of appreciation for the contributions he had made, as long as he agreed to leave the Summerset Isles, and never return. Which he did.
He arranged passage to Cyrodil on a trading vessel, where he trekked to the Imperial city. Being Altmer, his opinion on magic was valued, and though he never let on who he really was, or the wealth of experience in magic he really had, he spent time helping merchants of petty spells and scrolls, advising on what was actually worth their gold and such. But after a couple of years, he grew more widely known, and people grew more and more interested in him, and his background, as it became apparent he was more then a petty spell merchant. Afraid his shame would become common knowledge, he took his passage on a cart headed east, to Morrowind. When he got there, he spent more time drifting from town to town, mostly selling his talents in penmanship, when one day when he had eventually reached the east coast, he got talking to a sailor in an Inn, who told him of his upcoming voyage to Akavir.
He thought perhaps he could live out his days in a place like Akavir, a place where he would be no more out of place then the next refugee. And perhaps even start practising magic again, ((OOC: after ooc approval etc ;-) )) as his powers have never recovered after his accident. An occurrence thought to be more of the mind, an issue of confidence, after being responsible for the deaths of many innocents, rather than of a result of his injuries, but no one quite knows for sure. So he gave up the remains of the gold he brought to Tamriel, in exchange for passage.
And so now he stands on the shores of Akavir, another wetback seeking a life in it's lands. Safe in the knowledge that Skooma Kills.
Sorry, hope it's not too long, just wanted to make sure i got all the information in the bio you wanted! Look forward to your response!
Edd
Your application is well done, and you seem to know your definitions well. However there are two points I'd like to address:
A. Altmer age slower than normal humans, if you want him to look thirty six( in human years)know that he is going to actually be much older than that. I'm not going to press you for an exact age, just when you revise this say something like: The Elven Equivalent of 36
B. Now, on the issue of your character's name. It isn't exactly lore friendly, so I'd advise, you to pick a name from here: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Altmer_Names
Once again, well done app, and with those changes I'd be glad to accept you.
OOC:
IGN: Wwf544
Age: 14(turning 15 in mid-July)
Why us?: I have played on many different RP servers and can't seem to find the right one. This server gives me a chance to show off my RP skills and enjoy the server with everyone else on there.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?:No,but will in the near future.
Define Role-Playing in your own words:Role-Playing means that you change your behavior and attitude (maybe even appearance), as if you are being a completely different person.
Define Meta-gaming in your own words: It's when you use your knowledge OOC and use it IC (Maybe accidental sometimes)
Define Power-gaming in your own words: Your character is god-like.As in that you can easily kill 5 or more people with one shot.
IC
Name: Ryker Wind
Nickname: Ryker
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Nord
Appearance: Muscular, Brownish beard, warpaint over his left eye, Glass Armor, Hood, Glass Gauntlets,Iron Boots.
Personality: Has had a good life ever since he left Cyrodiil. He moved to Skyrim near the end of the civil war. Three-years after leaving Skyrim,he sets off towards Akavir for a new and better home.
In-game RP Fight examples:
Setting:The Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood
[Hodlin]"So what do you have planned for us today Lieutenant?"
[Ryker Wind]"We are going to help the great warriors of Skyrim fend off the Thalmor at Fort Sunguard in the next couple of days."
*Thalmor breaks threw the door.
[Ryker Wind]"Take cover everyone!"
[Hodlin]"What do we do Ryker?"
[Ryker Wind]"Get your bow out and start firing!" "I have an idea that could possibly work."
*Ryker throws his dagger at one of the 5 Thalmor and hits him right in the head
[Ryker Wind]"Come here you Thalmor *******!"
*Ryker pulls his dagger out of the Thalmor and sticks the dagger into the gut of another Thalmor
[Hodlin]"Watch out from behind you Ryker!"
*Ryker quickly ducks and the Thalmor is shot by Hodlin in the chest
*Ryker pulls out his steel war axe and chops the head off of a Thalmor
[Ryker Wind]"Now where is the last Thalmor freak at?"
*The last Thalmor grabs Hodlin from behind
[Thalmor]"Looking for me?"
[Ryker Wind]"Let him go or else."
[Thalmor]"Or else what,you pathetic Nord?"
*Ryker reaches for his bow and arrow
[Thalmor]"I wouldn't do that if you want your friend here to live"
*All of the sudden,an arrow is shot from one of the rooms and hits the Thalmor in the head and comes out on the other side
*Hodlin falls to the floor gasping for air
*The inn keeper walks out with a bow in his hand]
[Ryker Wind]"Thank you for saving my friends life,here is 180 septims for your trouble."
[Hodlin]"That freak almost killed me!"
[Ryker Wind]"Calm down,you were lucky he saved you from getting gutted like a fish."
*Ryker and Hodlin walks out of the inn going towards one of the last major battles in the Great War.
Background: Ryker Wind,born and raised in Cyrodiil, grew up a single child.His best friend,Hodlin,lived next door to Ryker. When they were 15-years old,they got into some trouble with the Imperials.They broke into the barracks of the Imperial soldiers,and stole some valuable stuff such as:Steel Swords,Iron Shields,and some Armor.They were put in jail for three days until they were released. When they turned 20, they left to go to Skyrim, where they would join up with the Imperials to take on the Stormcloaks at Whiterun.
After Whiterun was saved by the Imperials, Ryker and Hodlin spent some time in Riverwood helping the guards protect Riverwood from the Stormcloaks and Dragons. They were stationed there for 3 months,until they were called to Windhelm, to win and conquer the second capital of Skyrim. Ulfric Stormcloak then surrendered to the Imperial Legion and signed the Treaty of Skyrim, allowing religious freedom and governing freedom. After being in Windhelm for about a month, Ryker and Hodlin was sent back to Riverwood. About two months later, Thalmor began to attack Imperials and Stormcloaks,this began the second Great War. Thalmor then headed to Riverwood unseen and began to attack. They walked into the inn and started killing civilians. Ryker and Hodlins fought back and killed every single one of them. They left to go to Fort Sunguard to be considered to be the last major battle of the second Great War. During the battle, Hodlin was shot in the neck by an arrow. Ryker was shot in the leg. Hodlin was dead and his body was sent back to his wife in Cyrodiil. Ryker was relieved of his duties as Lieutenant of the 1st Battalion.
He was sent home to Cyrodiil for bed rest on his injured leg. After 2 months of theropy on his leg, he packed his bags and headed towards Akavir to start a new life.
Okay, I'm here to review your app today.
1. First off, your Meta gaming definition is correct, but needs expanding.
2. Your power gaming portion is partially correct, but it also involves forcing an action onto another player
3. Your name is not Lore Accurate. Nord names sound, well, Nordic. Here is a link to some names you could use: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Nord_Names
4. Your character comes to Akavir with nothing besides the clothes on his back. This means no armor of any sort.
5. Your RP fight example shows a little bit of powergaming. Try using, *attempts* a little more.
6. Akavir is set a number of years after the Civil War in Skyrim, therefore, you're going to have to re-write your backstory, sorry.
7. You are missing something from the bottom of the application. Go read the rules.
I know it's a long list, but I'm sure you can do it. I assure you it will be worth the effort.
Denied, for now.
Why us?: I like playing the Elder Scrolls games and Minecraft, so this just seemed like the next logical step.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: No.
Define Role-Playing in your words: Play-pretend for big boys. Mostly with a lot of Tolkienian monsters and really hot elf ladies.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Knowing things you shouldn't in character.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Being much better in your stories than you actually are.
Name: Madd
Nickname: Doctor
Age: 27
Gender: male
Race: Argonian
Appearance: Madd stands approx. 6 feet tall and never slumps. His skin is blackened from a fire during his childhood and he wears his burns with both pride and shame. He wears a white tweed tunic and blue leather pants. Prefers no armour.
Personality: Annoying so is often alone. If you get to close to him in the dark, he might cut you with his scalpel, so watch out! Gets in trouble for seeing things differently through his bloodshot eyes.
In-game RP Fight example:
Setting: Anywhere, at any time
Revan (an rp friend) : Attempts to look over at all of those *insert anything that COULD kill me*
Madd: Let's go attempt to hit them and attempt to run away! *attempts to run forward and attempts to initiate combat, attempting death immediately*
Background: Madd was born in a small village that time has long since forgotten, as it was burned down in a dragon raid while he was just an egg. The heat of the fire in his family home ruptured the shell of his egg, both birthing him prematurely and burning him severely. Because of this, he is sometimes referred to as the Dragon-Hatched. Wandering the plains outside the ruins of his childhood abode, he learned the ways of nature and the healing methods it teaches.
His wanderings led him further and further until he happened upon Akavir and learned the ways of civilized peoples. He hopes one day to return to the land where the dragon lived and thank him for his gifts.
Okay, Doctor, I'll be reviewing your application today 1. Your definitions, save the meta definition, which needs expanding. 2. Your name is not lore friendly, and how exactly did he get the nickname Doctor? This is a list of Argonian names you could possibly use: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Argonian_Names
3. Why does he have bloodshot eyes?
4. Your RP fight example needs to be re-done entirely, as it lacks any sort of combat. Also, be specific as to what the scenario actually is.
5. Your village could not have been destroyed in a dragon attack. Dragons no longer exist in Tamriel, because the Civil War and the events of TES: Skyrim, took place a while back.
6. One does not simply walk to Akavir. It is an ocean away.
7. Re-read the rules, you missed something from the bottom of your application.
Fix all these, and then re-post the application
Denied, for now.
OOC:
IGN:matthew_mccarthy
Age:13
Why us?: I have been looking for a rp server and my friend suggested AKAVIR so I checked it out and now im applying.
Have you voted for us at planet minecraft?: Yes I have voted.
Define Role-Playing in your words: I think that role-playing is where someone plays a fictional character.
Define Meta-gaming in your words:I think that meta-gaming means someone finds information out of character and uses it when in character.
Define Power-gaming in your words: I believe that power-gaming is when someone reaches like god power so they can kill someone instantly and not take any damage in doing so.
IC:
Name:Vorian
Nickname: Vor
Age:40
Gender:Male
Race:Altmer
Appearance:Vorian is a blue eyed black hair Altmer. He is a standard body build and he wears a blacksmith apron with beltic tunic, also with ragged boots. On Vorian's face he has 1 scar from an old wound which was causes from his early blacksmithing years.
Personality: Vorian is a peaceful person until you get on the wrong side of him. He cares for all beings but if they get on the wrong side of him they will wish that they didn't. He was at a young age very shy.
In-game RP Fight example: (Include dialog)
At a inn near AKAVIR, Vorian is sat ordering a pint of ale.
Vorian: A pint of ale please fair maiden
Inn manager:Yes vor that will be 15 septims
As the maiden walks of to get Vors ail he counts out 15 septims, the maiden returns.
Inn manager: Heres your drink
vorian: *takes a drink and sais Tis the best ale ive ever had
Inn manager: thank you sir
Background: (Detailed and in-depth, 2 paragraphs. Also, explain how you came to be in Akavir.)
Vorian was born on the Summerset isles where he lived for many years where he sat in poverty. When Vorian was born his mother died, this meant that his father had to look after him. Vorian's father was a blacksmith he was (to the local towns people) the best there was. From an early age vorian had spent most of his time in his fathers blacksmith learning the tricks of the trade and he would practice all day and every night he was eventually known Aprentive vorian to his father because he was as skilled as him. He was not good in combat because he was too busy admiring the weapons that his opponents had, he would try and find his opponents weapons achilles heel but this took to long and he would always loose. When he started to realise this he said to his father "can you teach me the way to fight without getting distracted?" and he was taught and did win enevtually. However when the great war happened is father felt that he had to go to war for freedom so that vorian can not be forced to go in and fight instead of his father. His father died after getting stabbed in the stomach and then having his throat cut.
After hearing this Vorian decided that he should not stay on the summerset isle because there was nothing there for him no family he was an orphan. Vorian know not to seek vengance because of what his father had said to him. His father said to him that "if I die in this was do not blame anyone but me because I wanted to go and fight". He traveled for a while looking for a suitable place to live and somewhere he could be happy and call home, this took vorian a long time because he can be a vary shy person and he could not find a job as a blacksmith anywhere. After 3 months of traveling Vorian found Akavir a place that he could call home. Within a matter of days he found a place that he could seek refuge until he could get a job and a home. While staying in refuge Vorian a woman named ysoldja that he fell in love with see helped him through the rough times in his time trying to find a blacksmith that would take him on as his assistant, eventually he did. Now he has a good job that will make him successful.
I'm going to get right to it.
1. Your definitions are somewhat correct, but need expanding. Be more specific.
2. Altmer do not typically have blue eyes. A typical eye color for Altmer is amber, or something of the like. Their hair ranges from a light blonde to a mid brown. Not black.
3. Your RP example needs to include a fight.
4. Your father cannot have fought in the Great War. It is long since over.
5. One does not simply walk to Akavir. You would need to take a boat.
6. I'm rather sure you can't start off with a job.
7. You are missing something from the bottom of your application. Go read the rules. Think about a famous TES drug.
Denied, for now.
IGN: PaulTheAbbot Age: 15 Why us?: I love Elder Scrolls and Minecraft soo its perfect. Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Yes Define Role-Playing in your words: Role Playing is using your imagination to act out a character from different things and use that to interact. Define Meta-gaming in your words: Getting knowledge from OOC to use in game where it usually wouldn't make sense for your character to know. Define Power-gaming in your words: Over powered characters used usually unfairly in gaming.
Name: Hu Long (Chinese for Dragon Tiger) Age: Unknown Gender: Male Race: Po' Tun (Not Ka Po' Tun) Appearance: Skinny, yet strangely muscular, graying fur from age with a wise face. Wears black monk robes. Looks old and fragile yet is strong and athletic. Weapon: Long wooden staff on his back with a skinny short sword on his side. Personality: Wise, Gentle, He can take you out if you provoke him but all with a calm mind. In-game RP Fight example:
Hu Long is meditating under a huge tree at the top of a waterfall while there are 3 Tsaesci's standing on the other side of the river staring at him Hu Long has no reason to fight them but they thing other wise.
Hu Long: "What have you come here for".
The First Tsaesci: "Your head".
Hu Long: "I have no reason to fight any Tsaesci".
The Tsaesci charge at him yet Hu Long just sits but once they get close he decapitates one of the Tsaesci's head with one quick slice of his sword.
Another Tsaesci: "What was that"
Hu Long Stands up with his staff in hand scaring the Tsaesci he throws them both down with a blow to the head with the back of his staff.
Background: (Detailed and in-depth, 2 paragraphs. Also, explain how you came to be in Akavir.)
Although Po' Tun's have changed to Ka Po' Tun's after Tosh Raka, Hu Long does not agree to the ruling of him. Hu Long was older than him but he was banished for treason to the far end of Akavir for going against the rule of Tosh Raka and secretly because he is a Po' Tun who can turn into a dragon and Tosh Raka wanted to be known as the only known Ka Po' Tun to be able to turn into a dragon. Hu Long turns into a dragon with slight tiger like features, but only turns when he has to to not raise suspicion because then Tosh Raka may come for him to tie up lose ends.
Hu Long's Parents were killed when he was young from unknown causes all he has left from them is a necklace from his mother with the 3 dragons eating each others tales, and he has the skinny short sword from his dad that has special abilities he has yet to find. When Hu Long meditates he can some times see visions of the past and his family and visions of the future. He see's bad things happening if Tosh Raka makes it to Tamriel. so he is on a mission to stop him before something bad happens so he trains to get stronger to defeat Tosh Raka and his army.
1. Your definitions for roleplay and meta gaming are correct. However, your powergaming is somewhat correct and needs expanding on.
2. You are powergaming in your RP example.
3. Now, for your character. You are Super-dee-duper overpowered. You cannot morph into a dragon. You cannot see into the future. You have to re-write your whole character, sorry to say.
Denied, with one chance to fix this. This can be seen as a troll application, and will be permanently denied if you cannot fix the aforementioned.
Why us?: Was looking for a server to RP on. This one lines up with my interests
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Not quite yet
Define Role-Playing in your words: (See front page for examples) Assuming a role that is different from your everyday one. Pretending to be something or someone else.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Using OOC information IC
Define Power-gaming in your words: doing something that is overpowered/unfair. IE: *I walk into the room of enemies and kill them all in under a second.*
IC:
Name: Tarvyn Vilas
Age: 536
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer
Appearance: Dark skin (obviously), red eyes, longer hair with a beard. Mage robes and boots.
Personality: Reserved, quiet, inquisitive
In-game RP Fight example: *I roll out of the way of the incoming axeblow. Feeling it cut through the air where I was just standing.*
*I counter with a lightning spell, hitting his arm and causing him to drop his weapon.*
"I see you've gotten better since last time we fought."
Of course, training is essential to victory. As is being smarter than your opponent.
*We resume our fight, trading hits and missing occasionally.*
*The metals of his armor clang as my opponent moves about the ring. His wild swings are no match for my refined technique.*
*As he raises his weapon in preparation to strike I see my opportunity, I hit him in the chest with a fireball, knocking him out of the ring and securing victory.*
"Agh, damn. You got me again."
What is this, win number 30 for me?
"I've only got to beat you 25 times to even that score!"
Some other time friend, come, let's go get drinks from the tavern.
Background: Tarvyn was born on the 29th of Rain's Hand in the year 3E 101 under the sign of the Mage to his parents Tidril and Sadene Vilas. He was born in Sadrith Mora, but his time here would be short lived. His family was poor and decided to move outside the city rather than deal with any of the Telvanni guards who harassed the poorer citizens. His family moved to a small town near the city where they established a library. Tarvyn was an assisstant to his parents for the first twenty years of his life, being illiterate he couldn't not read the books he was surrounded by. He made every effort to learn to become literate, five years later, he was. For the first fifty years of his life he helped his parents run the library, while learning magic when he had time and teaching it to others as a side job. Unfortunately for Tarvyn, his mother and father would vanish one night and never be seen again, the only clues he's ever had were some form of ritualistic circle and a book about the Daedric princes that had writing all over the sections about Hermaeus Mora. Until 4E1 he was the only librarian of his parent's library, though he did not spend all of his 284 years in Morrowind in the library.
During the Oblivion Crisis Tarvyn was lucky enough to avoid the conflict, well, the conflict of the Daedric invasion anyway. One day a fierce looking man entered the library and demanded books on weapons training, when Tarvyn only returned with three books the man threw them back at him and stormed out, muttering something about payback. The ordeal confused Tarvyn greatly and made him wonder why anybody would do such a thing to books.
A year after the Oblivion Crisis the strange man made good on his promise, out of nowhere bandits came and sacked the library. Tarvyn was paralyzed with fear until he saw patrons of the library running around not trying to stop them. He grabbed a large bag and, while trying to fight bandits, grabbed what books he could. Realizing it was hopeless to keep fighting them, Tarvyn escaped and started to wander Morrowind for several years, never settling anywhere and meeting many people along the way.
One day an elderly Dunmer came into the Leyawiin Library, he claimed to know Tarvyn and said he knew where the bandits that destroyed his library were hiding out. Rightfully skeptical, Tarvyn questioned the man until he was confident that the truth was being told. Once he was told the location Tarvyn thanked him and set out for the cave. Once inside he cast an Invisibilty spell on himself and started looking for the bandits. Following the sound of voices he soon found them around a campfire. Filled with an unfamiliar rage, rage that stemmed from the destruction of his library for no reason, he cast a powerful Chain Lightning spell at them, killing all but one instantly, he jumped down and dispelled the invisibility spell. When asked why he did this he simply responded with "You took away what was my life, so I took yours." and killed the bandit. Afterwards he reflected on how they could possibly live as long as he did, upon searching their lair he found that they were servants off Vaermina that were given long lives to find and kill worshippers of Hermaeus Mora. He refuses to speak about it to this day.
During his time in Leyawiin he kept looking for information on the disspearance of his parents. In 4E10 he found something. He read that there was a ritual to summon Hermaeus Mora, he took the time to get the necessary materials and prepared the ritual. Hermaeus Mora decided to show up and entertain Tarvyn's request. When asked what he wanted, Tarvyn replied "A long life, one long enough that if I seeked all the knowledge in the world and learned it all, I would run out of things to do." He was granted an unnaturally long life and as a side effect, his appearace aged at 1/3 the normal rate. He would have a long life so long as he repeated the ritual every few centuries. Nobody knows that he has done this and Tarvyn would prefer it kept that way.
Perhaps almost as much or even more so than the Thalmor, Tarvyn despises the Vigilants of Stendarr. He's witnessed their "curing" of Daedra worshippers several times in his life. He cannot fathom what part of their faith allows them to mercilessly beat those who refuse "help". He's seen this mostly when they are interrogating Dunmer and others who worship beings outside the pantheon.
Slowly the price of the Prince of Knoweldge's gift began to reveal itself. Long periods of isolation had accelerated this curse. The curse was that he slowly began to lose emotional feeling. He found himself unable to express certain emotions like rage at first, but it is slowly expanding, taking away more and more as time goes on. Inwardly Tarvyn is worried about a long, long life as an emotionless shell, but he remains as cheery as he can be on the outside.
In an effort to find a way to reverse the curse, Tarvyn journeyed east to Akavir, hoping that the mysterious continent had the answers he was looking for.
Skooma kills
Well, I only have one major qualm here. Just remove the Hermaeus Mora gift. Your character cannot be daedra blessed like that, even with the weakness.Your backstory would be good without it.
Also, just expand on the definitions
Also, you need to make an application which only allows for three or two weak skills.
Denied until you fix it
Why us?: I chose this server, mainly because a friend said it was a glorious server, but also because I have yet to play a Skyrim RP! This server seems very advanced and it looks like there is a lot of players willing it play along side as well. I am excited to play this server because I love the Elder Scrolls, and I love Minecraft.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Not yet, I am currently working on re-creating my Planet Minecraft account, I will do it within the moment I am accepted, and have looked around the server a bit. But I can assure you, my vote will be one of many.
Define Role-Playing in your words: Roleplaying is when you take on a particular role in a game whether it be in real life, or just a basic game. You can take on a person who is strong, brave and muscular or a scientific man who is full of wisdom. There is many opportunities and you get to make up everything about this character. You play in a fictional world as a fictional character.
Define Meta-gaming in your words:When given true information over false product sources, eg: Skype, and you were to input it into the game this will result in a ban or such.
Eg: Your friend gives you the coordinates to a major city and all of the peoples names over skype, then you were to go into the game and go to the city and call the people by their names before they even introduced themselves.
Define Power-gaming in your words: When you act as if you are more powerful than others, or if you are in an RP battle and you are acting more overpowered then you actually are, and you act in such a way that you don't give your opponent a chance.
Eg: *Kain stabs his sword fiercely into the man's back, 100 times over and over again, the man cant do anything and he dies*
IC:
Name: Kain Threm Alados Meretol Adeles
Nickname: Kain Adeles
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human - Breton
Appearance: 6' 0" (1.83 m), 134 lbs. (61 kg) Kain is seemingly tall and for the most part he is calm. His shiny golden hair pierces and not literally, but emotionally. A quiver of arrows is sheathed and clipped to a strap that sways over both shoulders and latches onto his belt. Red and black leather shirt cut off past the elbows, a bandanna is tied around the back of his head and covers his mouth. Open fingered leather gloves allow for a good finger movement and extra grip. Dark blue eyes and his ears covered by his luscious golden hair. His pants contain 4 pockets, for extra holding purposes.
Personality: Kain strives to be an outgoing person, he has a strong work ethic and when given a job he is able to meet all the deadlines early or just in time. Seemingly nice is what Kain makes himself out to be, he holds in all of his anger and depression, but it's a good thing. He makes himself seem nice by helping out everyone around him. Kain is generally a nice, outgoing, hard working, fit warrior.
In-game RP Fight example:
*In a dark forest which was tainted by the treacherous people and creatures, two men who were both in good hands were battling it out, unintentionally of course, one of the two that fought, was Kain.*
*The night grew ever so dark and the trees swayed as they picked up the wind and brushed it past, Kain approached a man in hopes he was a fellow trader as he was in need of food*
"H-Hello..?" Kain says to the man, who is turned around hunched over.
"What is so important that you must approach me in the forest, I have already been beaten and robbed" The man says in a weary voice.
"I am not here to rob you. In fact I was actually wonderi-" Kain attempts to say, but is cut off.
"Then leave you fool, you're disturbing the forest creatures" The man says as he turns to Kain and places a hand on his blade.
*Kain immediately places his hand onto his blade* "I want no trouble, I was just in need of a trade" Kain mumbles to the man.
*The man unsheathes his blade and grips it tightly* "Times are harsh around here kid, and you got stuff I need, I'm going to do what you did to me" The man says as he puts the blade in his left hand, using the right hand to shove Kain.
"Did to you- I never did anything to you! Please I don't want to hurt anyone" Kain says as he unsheathes his blade and backs up"
*The man grips his blade with two hands and lunges towards Kain*
*In a whirlwind, Kain leaps to the right and spins around the man, attempting to kick him in the lower left ribcage*
*The man is kicked and falls back, but does not fall over but simply grips his side, putting both hands on his blade once more*
*Kain makes another attempt and in a fury he swings his blade towards the mans left shoulder as he is dazed*
*The man falls over to avoid contact, but drops his blade, he is quick to pick it up once more, as he makes the final swing towards Kain*
*Kain swings his sword up, towards the mans groin in an attempt to permanently injure him and try and stop him*
*The man is hit and a few drops of blood are all that come from the man, but he is knocked unconscious*
*As the nights appear to open and a slight pierce of daylight rushes in, Kain has fled the scene in hopes of pursuing his goals. That minor set back, did not achieve much as he did not want it to happen*
Background:
"80 years after the events of Skyrim, immigrants from all over Tamriel set off for Akavir. After hearing various rumors of rich lands and the many freedoms each citizen was declared, travelers found passage along the trade routes. Many of these immigrants were trying to escape the fires of war or simply wanted religous freedom and practice."
A young boy named Kain fended for himself in the forests which were a short distance away from most villages surrounding. Kain was born upon the lands of Akavir, from which his parents moved in hopes of practice and wanting to express the open religion. His parents were unknown to him, and he was left in a small blanket and a carved boat-like structure made from sticks and vines that winded together into a strong material. He was found by a group of orcs in the forest who didn't have any intention on killing him because they knew he was alone, and that no one wanted him. They figured that they could train him as he got older to be a mercenary like them. A certain wrong-doing was caused by Kain, when a few prisoners at a small slave camp in the forest were let loose. With immediate action and haste, this lead to quick dismissal. Kain was sent off into the forests at a young age of 8.
Kain was just left for dead.
Kain was probably one of the first people to live in the dense forests at such a young age. After being brought up into a life of crime and misery, hate and sorrow and murder, all of which affected his life. Kain turned out to be alright except for some minor flaws though he still had the passion in him to kill, something inside him just made him want to kill. Kain does everything he can to let out his anger on things that aren't living, but he can't seem to let go of the past, all of the things that the mercenaries did to people, whether it be robbing them or beating them, he wanted to do to everyone else. Kain was able to hold back all anger inside, and able to control all feelings or emotions about being a mercenary.
Roughly 8 years later
__________________
Such a sorrowful child Kain was as he lived a cruel childhood out in the forests alone. 8 Years had passed, all that time alone in the forests changed Kain and he was no longer the same. But the changed Kain was anew. He was better in every way. Kain learned how to control all signs of anger and all feelings, he was so nice and calm but a slight hint of sarcasm lies within him. Kain was wandering through the dense forests, on a valiant venture sought out to find shelter, safety, fresh food and water. The forests supplies were so scarce. Kain came across something he hadn't seen in what seemed to be the longest time; a small village nearly a 2 days walk away. Upon entering the small village he was stopped by three men in full armor with swords that extended down to their feet.
"H-Hello" Kain says to the men.
"Halt Outsider, what business do you have sneaking around the outskirts of our village?!" The tallest one responds.
"I have been in the forests for 8 years, food supplies are running scarce, p-please I don't want to hurt anyone." Kain responds.
The tallest one, now seeming to be the leader, Responds: "Fair enough, hand over your blade, bow and your quiver."
*Kain slowly removes his weapons, placing them on the ground, and stepping around them*
Kain wandered into the town as he was allowed to go past the guards who stood their ground at the entrance. After only a few weeks and great amounts of gratitude towards the small village, Kain was unsatisfied. No matter how much fresh water and baked food he had, it wasn't satisfying enough. Kain needed a better place to live, he packed his things and visited the Forge in the village. Kain was quick to grab his things from the chest with his name labeled on it. He made way towards the entrance and entered into the dense forests again as he felt that burst of light beam on him through the tall trees, he felt back in place...but not quite.
Kain headed west of the village, with his given compass of course and he set off, looking for a new place to call home. The lands of Akavir were dense, people passed by him on a day by day basis and he met so many new people that were just as nice as him, few of these people were torn and wretched but he was able to fend off. All he wanted was peace in the lands of Akavir and that was something he questioned every day; Whether he would obtain what he desired most, or let it slip through his fingers and forget all about it and try to move on.
Thank you for taking the time to read over my application, I tried my best and I guess that is what counts, right? I honestly hope to see most of you online and I can't wait to try out this unique server!
And if you didn't read my backstory,it says "the second Great War"asinskyrim is fighting the Thalmor smart one.
The war you refer to in your backstory is the Skyrim CIVIL war. The 2nd great war is taking place during our server's time, fifty years after this. And, it takes me time to review these applications as well. Be glad someone bothered to look it over, and treat whitelisters with respect. I'm not denying you permanently. Just fix it.
Just a warning, I'm not the best at writing backstories for my characters, and apoligize for any choppy ideas or information in the backstory. I hope you can disregard my bio as an example of my ability to RP, as I can RP quite well, but have slight trouble with backstories.
OOC:
IGN: Logan1217
Age: 16
Why us?: I've played other Elder Scrolls based RP servers, and found them entertaining. A friend also recommended me this server so I thought I'd give it a try.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: No I have not, I wasnt completely aware that you could vote, and I will shortly.
Define Role-Playing in your words: Taking on the role of a character created in a false world, to interact with other people who play other characters.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: The conscious or unconscious use of information gained OOCly, this is a common issue for many RP servers due to the players wanting to know stuff they shouldnt, or normally couldnt know.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Being indestrucible in combat, or instantly learning a language to convene with other races. Another example is forcing RP on another, saying something like *hits jacob with a backhanded slap to his left cheek* instead of *tries to backhand jacob's left cheek*.
IC:
Name: James Hodling
Nickname: Hod
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Appearance: He wears a slight light blue shirt with leather straps going around his body, a form of armor and protection. He has black hair and light sky blue eyes. He has greyish pants complete with black boots.
Personality: James is often eager to get things done, and seems pretty happy all the time. When James becomes sad, he becomes incredibly sad, same with all his other emotions.
In-game RP Fight example:
~Bandit: "Hand over your gold, before I'm forced to poke you with my blade!" *draws blade*
~James: "Your going to.... /Poke/ me with your blade?" Begins laughing, and announcing "Not before I poke you!" *draws blade*
~Bandit: *charges at james, attempting to wrap his arm around James and stab straight through his abdomen*
~James: *twists around as the bandit charges, avoiding the attack, bringing his sword around in the twist in an attempt to slash the bandits back*
~Bandit: *gets cut in the back, sending him farther forwards, nearly falling face first into the ground*
~Bandit: *growls, jumping up with teeth bared, sword swinging towards James's skull*
~James: *meets the bandit's blade with his own, in an attempt to hit the blade away and use the recoil to swing the blade at the Bandit's neck*
~Bandit *the blade reaches his neck, slicing deep into it, blood delaying a second before pouring out of the wound*
~James "My gold!" *spitting on the bandit, walking off, sheathing the bloody blade*
Background: James was born in the Imperial city, the capital of Tamriel. His father was a criminal, who just happened to impregnate a *****, the outcome being James. From a young age James learned to swing a toy wooden sword, and how to hit other kids hard with that sword. James not happy with his life always tended to pick on the little kids, and the kids who always seemed to have a little pocket money their parents must have kept giving them. James at the age of 6, decided he wanted to be a bandit, a quite childish thing to think about, and everybody ignored it, thinking James was just playing. He went kid to kid, playing his 'game' of banditry, taking little pouches of coin from every kid he found. This went on for about a year before one of the children told their parents, and they went on to tell the city guard. Since James was pretty much homeless, it was pretty hard to find him, as he could be anywhere. It only took a day before James was apprehended and thrown into jail for stealing a total of 176 gold coins. James learned what it was like inside a jail... he didn't like it in the slightest. He found it extremely boring, and when it came time to eat, the guards would always pick on him, teasing him with their food. James hated his existence, hated being caught and hated being in jail with real criminals.
This is where James met his father, marking a new part in his life. James's father was a hard man, but a protective one, and from day one James's father was watching him, making sure nobody caused him harm. One day in the eating area, a big redguard man walked up to James's, and started saying how he was in the Redguard's seat. In one hit ~WHABAM!~ the big redguard was on the floor, holding his head groaning in pain. James looked to the man who did that, and decided to go and talk to him, after some debate in his head, unsure of what he should be doing. He approached his father, asking why he did what he did, and to put it simply, his father told him the straightest answer to be... "I'm your father." He quickly dismissed his son, sending him back to where he was sitting, to finish his food. James was never even approached after that, he got released 3 months later.
James upon turning 14 decided to leave the Imperial city, as there was no proper life for him here anymore, he couldnt even steal anything with all the guards eyes on him all day and night. James left the Imperial city at the crack of dawn, going to the stable, hopping on a horse and riding as far and fast as he could. James passed through several small towns and large cities, taking what he could, running from guards when he had to, all to keep himself and his horse fed. James did this for a year, before stumbling upon a poster, advertising the treasures and new cities of Akavir, and your chances to make yourself rich. James saw it as a blessing, ripping down the poster and following the directions to where he had to go to get aboard the ship that'll later be taking him there. The deal for getting to Akavir was giving 1 year service onboard the ship, until they finally reached Akavir at the end of the year. James quickly agreed, working his **** off to pay off the fare to get to Akavir, but when he arrived, he was happy. James was starting a new chapter in his life, all thats left now is to choose... Should he revert to his old ways as a criminal? or should he find something more solid and honest to do for a living....?
Thanks for reading my application to your server, I hope you can accept me or give me some pointers on how to improve my application if there are any problems.
Well, I only have one major qualm here. Just remove the Hermaeus Mora gift. Your character cannot be daedra blessed like that, even with the weakness.Your backstory would be good without it.
Also, just expand on the definitions
Also, you need to make an application which only allows for three or two weak skills.
Denied until you fix it
"Gift". If you didn't notice, in the app it says it's a curse. There's no blessing there and it's completely within the realm of possibility of TES. He isn't super powered or anything, just has an increased lifespan. What do you mean "three or two weak skills"?
OOC IGN: SnipeTheMonkey Age: 16 Why us? Your server interests me as i once played a similar RP to this, also many good friends of mine are on this server. Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Yea Define Role-Playing in your words: (See front page for examples): The act of taking on a fictional character in a fictional realm with other players. Define Meta-gaming in your words: Taking information that your character doesn't know in game, and using it in the game. Define Power-gaming in your words: Using unreal and un-obtainable mechanics in game to achieve goals faster or control RP.
IC Name: Buford Age: 21 Gender: Male Race: Nord Appearance: Buford is recognized by missing half the hair on his head, wearing blue farmers trousers & a white shirt. Bushy eyebrows. 6"2 tall. Some could say his eyes shimmered with the moon. Others would pass by him, and say that his eyes were soul devouring. Buford was once very outgoing but through constant abuse that he received when he was a kid, he learned how to stand up for him self, and is cautious of people. Buford is a rather tall man that is beefy and muscular.
Personality: Buford's personality is rather scattered and twisted in many ways. Buford act's this way because of his constant abuse as a child, he comes off as a nice person to fool the citizens. Upon caring for citizens and treating them nicely, he will sooner or later crack and turn on those around him.
In-game RP Fight example: (Include dialog) *Jermiah, a friend, emerges from a forest looking skeptical, Buford approaches him to
speak*
Buford: *Looks at Jermiah with concern*"Where did you just come from my friend, You look rather worried"
Jermiah: *Avoids eye contact, looking away* "Um..Nothing" *Blood drips from his hand*
Buford:*Pulls out a piece of rope from his pocket, winding it in his hands*
Jermiah: *Peers down at the rope in Bufords hands* "Don't...Don't do this Buford!"
Buford:*Jumps towards Jermiah, attempting to put the rope around his neck*
Jermiah:*Struggles, attempting to remove the rope from his neck, but is too weak*
Buford:*Applies more pressure, blood starts dripping from Jermiah's neck* *He screams: Night time Jermiah!"
Jermiah:*Flails arms about in a hopeless manor,body falls, lifelessly into Buford's arms*
Buford:*Throws the body to the left of him, Walking away like nothing happend* "Whispers to himself: Make the red river flow.
Background: (Detailed and in-depth, 2 paragraphs. Also, explain how you came to be in Akavir.)
Buford was born and raised in Tamriel by his parents, not much knowledge is remembered from Tamriel as he tries to forget all of his past. All of the immigrants that lived in Tamriel including him and his parents decided to adventure off to the lands of Akavir in hopes of gaining riches.
Buford lived a harsh life of cruelty and torture. His parents were abusive. They didn't love him, nor want him around. They kept overhearing the noise of him playing his Accordion in the basement. They would sneak down the stairs, and grab the Accordion from his hands, and beat him with it. His only defense was to run to the panic room, that even his parents didn't know of. When Buford was slightly older he disliked everyone around him. It might have been because of the constant abuse he received from his family.
Upon getting older Buford decided to leave his abusive family and live a life among the wild animals outside, as he wasn't too comfortable around people. Upon being outside so much Buford picked up the skill of farming to keep himself full of food, and to help him forget his past. Through all of Buford's abuse and travels he still kept his Accordion skills up to tune. To this day when Buford passes by people in large settlements he is still looked at funny, as if they see something in him that is devilish. Buford travels the lands living his sad life all by himself with the memory of being abused and hated as a child still in his head, soon to be shared with the world. *Evil grin*
"Gift". If you didn't notice, in the app it says it's a curse. There's no blessing there and it's completely within the realm of possibility of TES. He isn't super powered or anything, just has an increased lifespan. What do you mean "three or two weak skills"?
I see no reason for it to not be allowable.
Well, alright. I've talked to other people on the whitelisting team as well, and we have collectively decided not to let you have the curse.
On the issue of magic, your character can only start out knowing three Novice level spells, like Sparks and Cinders.
Remember to post the revised application on the enjin forums that I linked, not here.
Because if we allow this then we will have people applying as Champions of Daedric Princes or even (for example) Sheogorath himself. And then when we deny them they will wonder why your application was accepted and theirs wasn't.
I will ask you again, please change your backstory, we can not accept this.
I don't see how that would happen, at all. Considering I'm not applying as a champion, just a worshiper. But, forget it, I'll just withdraw my application. It isn't worth debating this.
Why us?: Someone mentioned Elder Scrolls and RP to me. That's like dangling a cigarette in front of a chain-smoker. From that point on, this application was inevitable.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Yes.
Define roleplaying in your words: Roleplaying is pretending to be a character for fun. While you are roleplaying, you forget your real-life grudges, personality, experiences and knowledge and adopt those of your character. That being said, it is important to maintain IC and OOC seperation and refrain from metagaming and powergaming in order to make roleplaying as fun as possible.
Define Meta-gaming in your words:
Metagaming is the act of using information in roleplay that your character should not know. Obtaining and using co-ordinates or rushing to an event your character does not know about is metagaming. Recognising somebody from their Minecraft username or locating them using their nameplate is metagaming. Knowing somebody’s name, title or profession from their RP name in chat is metagaming. Heck, making a gun in a world where guns have not yet been invented is metagaming, because your character does not even know what they are!
Define Power-gaming in your words:
Powergaming is a style of unrealistic and overpowered roleplaying that ruins the roleplaying atmosphere. I identify Mary-Sue characters, god-modding, game mechanic abuse, and forcing other players' actions as general "powergaming", so my definition may include a wider range of actions than that of most people.
In character creation, powergaming is known as creating unrealistic backstories and characters, breaking lore or making your character overpowered by giving them random magical powers or too many skills.
In game mechanics, powergaming is known as taking advantages of glitches and functions of the game to do things that your character would not be able to do. This includes block jumping, duplication of items, and aggressive farming/grinding.
As a roleplaying style, powergaming is known as roleplaying forcefully and demanding that your actions are successful. This also includes dodging attacks without being hit and refusing to be defeated when you have clearly been thwarted. In some cases it is actions that simply do not fit in with your character: farmers hunting monstrous beasts in their free time, and peasant girls pulling out a diamond sword and kicking butt whenever they feel threatened. This goes hand-in-hand with Mary-Sewerage and makes me die a little bit inside.
IC Section
Name: Sassinak
Nickname: Sass
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Race: Nord
Appearance:
Sassinak is a typical fair-skinned Nord, with long blonde braided hair and steely grey eyes. She stands at 5'9", well-muscled and toned from years of travel. She is rarely seen without a bow and quiver full of arrows.
As any young Nord without a place in the world, Sassinak is easily vexed by life's frustrations. She has been known to be quick to anger, and frequently the one to loose the first arrow. Otherwise, she has a naturally gentle disposition and she means no real harm. She tends to wander, with little skill or real purpose in life.
In-game RP Fight example:
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Sassinak released arrow after arrow from her bow to bury themselves into the straw target. A few other other youths stood around, one or two shooting arrows alongside her, but most were roughhousing about. Save for the occasional cry of a bird, the group of misfits were alone in the clearing.
When she reached for her quiver and found that her arrows are out, she lowered her bow and collected her arrows.
"Not bad," said a voice beside her, and she looked across to see a young Bosmer, Maglir, lean down and yank four of his arrows out of the centre of the target - the arrows marked with red tails. She paused skeptically, knowing Maglir to be a disagreeable sort. After a moment an inevitable smile spread across her face and she nodded to the compliment.
"I mean... for a Nord," he grinned and turned to resume his shooting position.
Oh. Her brows lowered into a scowl and she snatched up her remaining arrows and marched after him, "!" She planted herself in front of the Bosmer, forcing him to lower his bow. "I can shoot just as well as any of you! Look."
She turns and drew her arrow back in a smooth movement, a thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. The tip of the arrow wavered as she drew in a breath and aimed for the target. She exhaled and just began to release the arrow.
"BANDITS!" A voice in her ear cried.
She flinched violently and her bow jerked, sending her arrow flying into the trees where it embeded itself into a trunk. She looked around hastily for the aforementioned bandits, but found only Maglir's smirk and giggling in the background. It was naught but a trick.
"Oh my... another arrow gone. I suppose it can be expected of a clumsy Nord. I'm surprised you can even shoot with those enormous ha-"
His sentence was cut short by a blow across his face with the wood of her bow. The giggling abruptly turned into shrieks of "Sass!" as she raised her weapon for another blow, her face contorted in embarassment. "You little worm!" She brought the bow down again to bludgeon him, but this time Maglir dodged to the side and grabbed the bow, pulling Sassinak forwards to punch her squarely in the face. She fell on him in a bundle of flailing fists shouting obscenities, and the two had to be forcefully separated by the others.
Sassinak panted as she clutched her nose which already seemed to be dripping with blood, possibly broken. A quick glance over at Maglir confirmed that he was staggering to his feet, likewise nursing his bruises. She went to shove off the two who had separated her from the fight and they released her in disgust.
"Nine Divines, Sassinak!" A female khajiit named Zahraji complained, "Why do you always have to take everything so seriously!"
Sassinak's face reddened and she mumbled an apology, clamping her nose and tipping her head back.
(I realise half of this was leading up to the brawl, but I'd like to focus on why Sassinak fights and the RP that can come from the fight.)
Background:
Sassinak returned home late at dusk, slipping into the khajiiti caravan camp with her face still dirtied with dried blood. She nodded respectfully to those sitting around the fire, her ma, pa and brothers counted among them. She may not be a khajiit, but they were the only family she had known.
She stalked over to a bucket of water and knelt, splashing the cool water over her face. She began to scrub away at the dried blood encrusted on her face. It quickly came away from her skin; soon enough her face was clean and the water was bloody.
A hand clasped her shoulder and she looked up to see the concerned face of her pa peering down at her.
"Fighting again? Dar'shaza is disappointed."
Sassinak gave a wordless nod as she dried her face on her sleeve, "Sorry," she murmured.
Dar'shaza sighed softly and settled cross-legged opposite her. "Sorry does not undo wounds. Why do you fight so much, child?"
"I get angry." There is no response to this. She picked up a twig from the ground and begins to break it into small pieces. "Who is my real family?" she asks after a long silence.
Dar'shaza examined his daughter with a glint is his eye and gestured to the caravan around the campfire, "Why, we are."
"Oh come on," Sassinak tossed the shredded pieces of wood onto the ground. "Pa! I stopped believing that when I noticed you had a tail. I'm twenty years old. I want to know."
"You won't like it."
"Pa!"
Dar'shaza sighed and leaned back, "Before we travelled to Akavir, we traded in Skyrim for many years. Cold, but many opportunities. Dar'shaza did not know your parents well. Your father came to us many times for skooma. An outlaw, maybe a bandit. He had much coin but one day the gold ran out. We turned him away when he couldn't pay."
"He came back with a babe in his arms and proposed a trade for skooma. Dar'shaza accepted. Dar'shaza asked what your name was. You had no name. We called you Sassinak."
Sassinak fell silent.
Dar'shaza lowered his voice, looking across at her. "An outlaw and a sugar tooth is no fit father."
She nodded dumbly, staring at her fingers as they begin to tremble. She sat there for a full minute thinking.
"I-I want to leave the caravan," she mumbled finally, looking up.
"Dar'shaza hoped you would stay with us. You guard the caravan well."
"I know, but I'm not a khajiit. I don't... I don't belong here. I want to find my own way."
Dar'shaza leaned over to a paw on her shoulder. "Then may you walk on warm sands, Sassinak," he murmured, rising to his feet to walk away.
Sassinak watched as he left, leaving her to sit in the darkness alone. Looking back to the bucket of water, she catches a reflection of her pale hair and skin in the moonlight. She knocks the bucket of bloody water over in frustration.
Why us?:
I am simply looking for a good roleplay experience, I’ve been on some fairly poor roleplaying servers in the past; this one just combines two things I enjoy very much: the Elder Scrolls universe with Roleplay.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?:
Yup, I had to count squares and triangles for you guys! Also, my girlfriend will be posting this application on Planet Minecraft on my behalf; I do not have an account on Planet Minecraft and I do not intend to make one. I apologize in advance for this fact. Her Planet Minecraft username is Yaen.
Define Role-Playing in your words:
To engage in the act of roleplaying one must first set aside all real life feelings and ambitions . You create a singular character and drop them in a bigger world, in the context of Akavir this world is Tamriel. You get inside this character’s head and leave an impression on that world. This character has a unique set of qualities, ideals and traits; ones you must keep separate from your real life persona. Using this character you tell a shared story amongst all the other roleplayer's in this world, and aim for a mutually fun experience. In short, roleplaying is much like acting; you play out your role on a broader stage.
Define Meta-gaming in your words:
Normally, in a roleplay situation you would simply narrow your view to that of what only your character would realistically know and think. You would limit yourself your character's history, and what they have experienced. The act of metagaming is opening up this view, in order to delve into knowledge that they normally would have no access to in a roleplay situation. In short, metagaming is the act of using information your character would have no means of knowing in a roleplay situation.
Define Power-gaming in your words:
In roleplaying you should always aim for gives and takes; you cannot always come out on top, and must take into account your characters strengths and weaknesses. Powergaming is the act of ignoring such faults, and coming to an overall conclusion that is not overly realistic. For instance, if you were caught up in a fight and were dealt several wounds over a period of half an hour, realistically you would be exhibiting symptoms of blood loss: heavy fatigue, dizziness, loss of motor functions. In short, you would collapse. If you however, powered through this, and showed no signs that you were slowly bleeding to death. That would be an act of powergaming.
Another example would be if a baker caught a street urchin swiping a loaf bread from his local stall, but the thief constantly got away, ignoring all attempts by the baker to stop or capture him by emoting things such as, "knocks merchant to the ground and sprints off to safety." However, powergaming goes far beyond simply combat scenarios, again it is about the realism of your character. If you were roleplaying a halfling and a massive orc sat on you, you would not be able to overpower the orc. You might be able to outwit him, but in a contest of strength... Well I see no real contest. If the halfling were to emote overpowering the orc, by tossing him aside, I would also see this as powergaming, for it breaks the realism of the scene.
IC:
Name:
Levant
Nickname:
N/A.
Age:
153
Gender:
Male
Race:
Dunmer (Dark Elf)
Appearance:
Levant stands at five feet and nine inches in height, with jet black shoulder length hair. He has a pair of almond shaped maroon eyes that glimmer in the low light. He is nearly always wearing a soft and gentle smile that gives an air of welcoming to any he comes across. His shoulders tilt downward at a gradual angle, he is not square chested. He is thin but not frail; his years as a sword smith have added SOME meat to his bones. He is still painfully thin, though, by anyone else's standards. He wears a gray under shirt, that is a few sizes too big for him, it spills out from under his black over tunic, which fits snugly about his torso; to compensate for the loose under shirt he wears straps about his arms, that have large iron clasps, to keep the fluid material from getting in the way while he is working. He wears black pants, and black boots; and has a strap going across his shoulders for his satchel which is stuffed full of supplies that may or may not come in use.
His ears are slanted backward, and longer than normal, and his skin is a misty gray, like the soot from a forge. He generally has small pocket tools hanging off of his belt, such as tiny knives for cutting rope or opening letters; he rarely ever holds a weapon for lethal means, but has scars from his years of extensive training with a sword, and scars especially from his years as a sword smith. His face is almost childlike, despite his 150 years of age, and his hair falls about the curve of his face in a messy sort of way. He has medium sized nose, and full lips. He also wears black leather gloves that nearly always cover his medium sized hands that seem to be gentler than of a working sort.
Personality:
Levant is a humble dark elf, who hardly discriminates against others. He isn’t an average Dunmer, for he had the misfortune of being parted from his biological parents at birth; being raised by Imperials, his outlook on life is significantly different than that of your average Dunmer. Levant is humble, caring, kind natured, and finds himself drifting through life more so than taking part in it. He enjoys the simple act of observing.
In-game RP Fight example:
Levant steps out from underneath one of the vine covered tunnels leading straight to the a large Plaza overlooking two intersecting rivers, he passes a man in garbed in leather armor and smiles kindly to him, only to receive a cold look of indifference. Making his way past the man, he feels the wind pick up and rush past his ears, and swirl about his fingertips; humming a soft tune to himself he makes a left turn onto the sandstone path, and catches glimpse of two armed guards harassing a frail, almost sickly looking man; it appears to Levant as if they are mugging the poor fellow. Sighing to himself he approaches the men, and raises his hand out in what he hopes looks like a peaceful gesture.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Levant says clapping his hands together, stepping in between the guards and the tiny man. "Can't this all be settled over a nice cup of tea?" Levant tilts his head to the side, his big maroon eyes dancing with sincerity.
"A cup o' tea? What you blabbering about Dark Elf?" One of the guard pokes his sword at Levant. "Ye best be gettin' out o' here, this here boy is, ah, being subject to questioning."
"And what was his crime?" Levant tilts his head to the side, his widening in question.
"Well, ah, you see..." The guard fumbles briefly not quite sure as of what to say.
"It is my thoughts you were abusing your powers," Levant shakes his head, and holds him arms outward in disappointment. "You're supposed to be upholders of justice, you don't simply step down on those who are... quite literally beneath you!" Levant glances to the short man with a reassuring smile. "So let's all be fine gentlemen and forget about all this, hey?"
"I've had enough of you Dark Elf," the first guard swings his blade at Levant, with a wide careless strike. Narrowing his eyes, Levant side steps narrowly dodging the blow.
"Run fella," Levant says shoving the the man towards the tunnel. He whirls around quickly throwing up the satchel that was slung over his shoulder to parry the oncoming blow from the second guard. The bag is split open and various oddities spill out across the plaza, the wind picks up and sends stray pieces of paper soaring towards the sky.
"Now, now Gentlemen, it doesn't have to be this way." Levant drops his bag, and holds his hands up harmlessly.
"You're interfering with th' law, you better pay up." The guards grin, he is missing a few teeth. He pokes his blade out at Levant once more, the grin widening. "How many coins you got under that there cloak, eh?"
Levant's jaw tightens somewhat. "I don't hand coin out to belligerents." He says simply batting the flat of the blade away, and then proceeds to smooth the front of his tunic. In a fit of rage the guard swipes his blade across Levant's torso, stepping backward a split second too late, a shallow cut forms across Levant's tunic, a light trickle of blood starts to spill out across his shirt. Grimacing slightly, he frowns.
"Well gentleman..." Levant glances about looking for some sort of escape. Oh why didn't I bring my sword, of all days... Levant takes a step backward, only to have the guard match him step for step. What to do, what to do. A bead of sweat slides down his brow, he was losing blood, but not so quickly. The wound was shallow. Glancing to his left he sees the lake below. Should I jump? Levant inches towards the railing.
"Well gentlemen... It was nice talking to you... It's been really eye opening." Levant smiles grimly. He whirls about and starts sprinting down the sandstone path, and heads towards the railing. They are in heavy iron, they can't keep up if I make it down into the water. Grabbing hold of the railing he flings himself over the edge and goes spiraling aimlessly into the water below. Not having ample time to position himself correctly he crashes in the water, and it splashes all about him in a wide ring of water. His lungs are filled with water, and he chokes briefly before resurfacing and gasping for air. Swimming to the coast, he picks himself up and begins walking towards the hills. "Well that wasn't how I planned on starting my morning... Well at least I was able to help someone." Levant smiles to himself as he heads back to his Camp. I had best tend to this wound.
Background:
((This biography was written in Character, as a letter to his friends.))
With each passing day I grow more and more sure of the coming storm Delaselva spoke of, friendships will be crippled, and not entirely by choice. We’ve already lost Malco and Sen to the shifting tides of fate; I’ve never been a holy man, but to the Divines let them be safe. It is in these trying times one has to worry about the future, and think far ahead to whatever may lay in waiting. The pack of misfits I come from are my friends, my kin, my family. I need to think of their wellbeing above all else. I would prefer my worldly possession to find a proper home in the hands of my kin, where they can be most used; for I am leaving this land very soon.
For the past five decades I have been traveling the lands, selling my wares to all those I passed; for the past fifty years I’ve honed my craft as best I could. Sword smithing is my art, my passion, my livelihood – It is to my friend, no my brother Durin I leave my trusted smithy’s hammer. It has never failed me –it gleams like the day I crafted it. Just be sure to polish it often.
Throughout my travels I have rarely ever had to raise my blade against another, but in the few trying times that I’ve faced in my many years no other blade has served me best than Unthereal, the blade I forged when I was but a boy. The eagle crest upon the guard was my mentor Lucares’ family insignia, it was under his tutelage that I learned how to smith blades in the first place. I leave my prized blade to Julianna, my adopted daughter –May you honor her well.
Delaselva, my dearest friend, and my brother I leave to you all of the written works I’ve collected over the years, as well as my book on all the tea recipes I’ve concocted over the years –May you one day finally learn how to make a good cup of tea. Delaselva, among these books you will find many of my own works; they detail my lack luster studies of the Undead and Draugr, may they aid you in furthering you own research and endeavors.
In my lifetime I’ve never been a materialistic man, I’ve never held much joy in possessing large quantities of Gold or gems –I’ve always preferred bartering for essentials, as it were. However, over the years as a merchant, you cannot help but obtain a few precious gems along the way. To Breva I leave all of my gold and shiny tid-bits –May you cherish them for eternity.
Jhonen, I may not have known you for very long, but you taught me what it meant to truly appreciate the grass beneath our feet. I thank you for this – You little farm boy. I will also never forget the stench of fish you brought to our trade camp. All journeys begin with the same few steps – A backpack, a staff, and a trusted cloak – and these are the things I leave to you: my satchel of herbs and medicines, my leather cloak and my staff –These objects have been by my side since I left the coal mines, and I hope they serve you well.
Sen, we may not have talked much, but you’ve been with us since the start, and if you are ever located again, I leave to you my bracers –Though, they serve no practical combat use, they will keep your sleeves done up nice and taut, they have provided me good use while in the forge, and I hope they provide you with equally good use while out in the field. I know how much you like digging for lost treasure. Good luck my friend, may the divines guide you to safety.
And last but not least, Malco, good old Malco. You are another who has been around from the start, but made an untimely disappearance. To you I leave you the key to our old home. Remember our days in the desert? Back when we had real beds? Before we became a band of traveling gypsies? It was you who provided me with my first real home, and although it no longer exists, the memory is still a strong one. Thank you.
For now our band of Gypsies has been scattered and lost throughout Tamriel. As of tomorrow, I will make my way to Akavir, by boat, to make my new fortune. May my possessions help you all; if fate wills it may we all meet again, in this life or the next. Farewell.
Why us?: Well, why not? This server has taken two excellent games and combined them into one roleplaying experience. I have been on my fair share of RP servers, some good and some bad, and I hope that this turns out to be a one of the better.
Have you voted for us at PlanetMinecraft?: Give me a second to click a few buttons. beep boop beep. Done.
Define Role-Playing in your own words: Roleplaying is such an excellent subject. It is the act of letting go of your physical self and immersing yourself into the world of another. OOC and IC are to remain separate so no Metagaming, or Power-gaming occurs and everyone involved has fun doing whatever it is that they may do.
Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Metagaming is the act of obtaining and using knowledge that is not otherwise known to your character. Learning something from a friend online such as, “There is a planned battle that we have never heard of or have any allegiance to, LETS GO FIGHT!” This is an example(albeit a poor one) of metagaming.
Define Power-gaming in your own words: Powergaming is the act of using Godly to above average skills and talents to enhance your characters abilities. If involved with other players, instantly killing them or “blocking every sword thrust without taking a hit” or pretty douche moves and are examples of powergaming.
IC:
Name: Durin Wolfstorm
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Race: Nord
Appearance: MC Skin:http://gyazo.com/56856215b8c1f04df45619a4f103b253 Durin is fair skinned, has shortish blonde hair and posses eyes of a deep blue. He is approximately 6 feet tall with a narrow but well built body, specifically trained for the art of a thief.
Personality: Durin is kind enough, with enough harsh words and gentleness as the next man. Around friends he is the life of the party, otherwise he is cautious and calculating. He is the type of man you want to be friends with, his enemies have a tendency of disappearing mysteriously.
In game RP fight:
The house sits atop a hill in the forests of Tamriel. The front yard is a mass of slaves toiling away at the crops that cover the deforested land. The landowner stands gleaming, on a balcony, admiring all of the work he has done and the fruits of his “labor.” The wheat on the outer fringes sway in the wind as the workers keep harvesting.
A shadow moves in the distance.
Night approaches, as the shadows grow longer and the slaves retire; shadows seems to move alongside the manor. Lowering his mask, Durin glances at his apprentice, a Bosmer named Anvarn. “We go in, get what we need and get out.” Durin whispers. “Yeah yeah I got it.” Anvarn replies smugly. Slipping the mask back on, Durin starts to climb up the side of building, edging toward the closest window.
Opening and entering the building, footsteps are heard in the hall outside the closet he came into. Opening the door a crack, he peers out. A guard clad in steel sits at a table on the other side of the room, whilst another leans against a support beam in the middle of the room. Withdrawing, he cracks his fingers, draws a sword from his back and readies a spell in his left hand. As he goes to open the door, Anvarn crashes into him, sending him sprawling through the door.
A look of surprise flashes across the mercenaries faces before they drew their weapons. Durin springs into a leap and unleashes Frenzy into the farthest mercenary and dove to the left as the closer man took a large slashing leap at him. Jumping into the rafters, “Oi, get down here you dirty thief!” the man says. “Yes, get down here” the frenzied man says, right before embedding his axe in the others skull. “Now why don’t we have a small chat.” Anvarn, seeing a chance, leaps from the shadows. Landing on the guards back, he clutches tightly and stabs the man several times before he sucumbs. Anvarn having an unseen smug grin, Durin studies the wounds. “Sloppy and random, try harder.” As he says this, the “dead” guard blows a whistle.
Staring in astonishment, he starts sprinting for the master bedroom with Anvarn on his heels. Barging through a set of doors a pair of guardsmen appear. Leaping over a table, Durin grabs two daggers, throwing them they strike the mercenaries in the joints of their armor, stopping them with the poison that coated the blades.
Finally entering the master bedroom, the wife sits on the bed covering herself with the sheets. Muttering a small apology to her, Durin starts gathering the valuables in the room. A loud crash comes from outside as the lord comes in with a loaded crossbow. “Alright, now its over.” he states clearly. Durin drops what he was holding and holds his hands above his head. Anvarn, always the smartalec replies “Yeah, sure.” and continues to loot. The lord points the crossbow at Anvarn and fires. An instant later a weakness poisoned dagger thumps into the lords shoulder.
Glancing over, Anvarn is down, most likely dead. Gathering several dropped items, he stuffs them into his pack and heads for the balcony. Leaping he rolls as he hits the ground. Looking back, “I’ll have to return. Hopefully he has more guards.” He strolls down the path, flipping a septim in the air.
Backround:
((This is reminiscent thought, just try to stick with me.)) My friends have left. All my connections are gone. I am wanted for several crimes in most of the Tamriel and cannot be paid off. It is time I moved. I start walking down a path, and think when did this all start?
I was 9, my father was a smith, and we were in the Imperial City Market District. My father was no special man, however due to his skill in smithing my family were accepted into a small group of merchants. I was born into the life. One of our swordsmiths was a great person. A dunmer by the name of Levant grew a fondness for me. I’m not sure what it was, but as I grew we became great friends. Wait, no the market district, thats what I was talking about.
Well, my father was shopping for materials that he would need to smith his wares. The entire time I was being told that I would be a great smith, I would learn how to make the strongest shields and sharpest swords. I believed him, and when we got to this point in our conversation a man in black approached my father and slit his coin purse. Catching the Septims, the man ran as my father yelled “THIEF! GET BACK HERE!” It was at this moment that I chased him. My father followed but I outran him. The thief jumped down into a sewer and I followed. Not the smartest idea but I was young. The thief looked back, upon seeing me he stopped and turned. Crouching, he said quietly “Well well, we have a natural here. Since you caught me, take this.” he offered a black coin out to me which I took eagerly. Looking up I saw that he had disappeared. Walking back out, my father had called the guards. As I stepped out covered in filth, he embraced me in a bear-crushing hug and asked “Are you alright? Did you find anything?” I said yes to the first and no to the second, caressing the coin in my pocket. There my career began.
Time passed, relationships grew and we were back at the Imperial City. I was about 14. I had learned some smithing from Levant and my father. Upon entering the city I went off in a search to find the same man. I looked long and hard yet he escaped me. When time came to leave I noticed a new face, it was the thief. I approached him and showed him the same coin that he gave to me a long time ago. Nabbing it from my hand he said, “meet me after we stop and eat.” This man taught me the art thievery and alchemy. I am no way a master at it, yet I can still make dastardly poisons and helpful potions.
Years and many thefts later, he became aware of my attunement to magic and quickly taught me some of the most important magic. He told me, “Illusion is one of the most overlooked magic trees in the all of Mundus. Used in the right hands it becomes the most powerful tree. I may not know many spells, but the ones I do know have saved me more than once.”
This man also taught me the thief’s code. This life that I had was kept secret from everyone, the only one who knew it was this other man. But now it is all gone.
The merchant group has been disbanded and I have gone solo for a time. Making a living by stealing items for clients. It was not until my friend Levant left Akvir and left his note that my infamy grew across Tamriel. So, I have decided to leave. If not to reunite with old friends, then to start anew. For if I have learned one thing, Skooma Kills.
((Side note: The magic that my character posses is strictly Illusion, it is nonlethal and only confuses people in RP. The Alchemy skill will be applied for once I am accepted to the server.))
Why us?: I'm rather active on another RP server called Gildorym based off D&D. A friend told me about this one and I thought a server based off of TES would be interesting.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: No
Define Role-Playing in your words: Taking on the role of a fantasy/fictional character and becoming a part of it's world.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Using information gained OOC or on a forum post IC such as: Learning a location of something, and immediately visiting it IC, Knowing another character's name IC by looking at one of their posts/application.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Power gaming is tipping the events of an RP situation to an extremely unfair advantage, such as: One shot kills, Shooting an arrow through 6 opponent. (possible, but highly unlikely, and requires a rather large arrow.), or killing other players randomly with no given reason.
IC:
Name: Jo'Rakha
Nickname: (Going to come up with an alias for him at some point, but don't want to use anything cliche, over used, or something that sounds like a 12 year old's Xbox live account.)
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Race: Khajiit
Appearance: Jo'Rakha stands at nearly 6'1 with an decently athletic build. His physical strength is nothing special, but he is quick, agile, and sly. He has dark brown, almost black, fur covering his body. His medium length tail is the same color as his fur, except with slightly brighter rings of hair every inch or so. His muzzle is not too short, but smaller than most khajiit's and his jaw is tightened into a blank scowl. His sharp amber eyes, scan his surroundings and he seems to be on his toes at all times (figuratively). He wears a dark colored cloak, usually with the hood up, and a slot cut in the back to give his tail room to help him balance. He walks purposefully, head level, arms straight, and strides long, not giving off a sense of cockiness, but confidence.
Personality: He keeps to himself mostly, but not out of shyness. When conversations arise he participates as would anyone. He displays himself as friendly and is generally someone who does what is right. He will do anything to achieve his goals, regardless of how others may feel about it.
In-game RP Fight example: (Include dialog)
Jo'Rakha walked along the tiny, dust covered path on the outskirts of what was left of a small nord village. The smoldering remains of the houses were all that was left after a recent Thalmor invasion, and the scent of smoke, choked his nostrils.
Up the road aways, was the house of a merchant he had been hired to deliver a package to. There were nearly two miles left on his journey now, and the tiny speck of the thatched roof came into view as he was passing the town. A scuffling sound came from his right. His ear twitched at the sudden noise, and he turned to face it, cautiously placing a hand on the hilts of his two steel blades. An average sized Wood elf emerged from behind a smashed vendor stall and chuckled menacingly at him.
"What've we got here eh? Little kitty lost his way?" teased the elf.
Jo'Rakha felt a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. "You have no business speaking with this one..." he hissed in reply. "Leave now, I have important things to attend to."
The elf's only reply was another chuckle. He shook his head and drew a small, sharp dagger. "You aren't going anywhere friend. Now hand over your valuables, or me and my pals will take them from your corpse."
Upon saying this, a tall, muscular orc stepped from behind one of the smoldering buildings, drawing a large two handed axe, and a young breton man, appeared from an alley way and stood next to the elf.
Jo'Rakha's eyes darted back and forth between each of the bandits as he drew both of his swords, holding them in a readied stance. "I give you one final warning, leave me be, or you die." he warned.
All three of the outlaws laughed in unison, advancing on him. The big orc, took a mighty swing with his axe, but to his dismay was sprayed in the face with dirt as Jo'Rakha dove out of the way of the swing, arcing the blade in his right hand at the orcs ankle. The orc yowled in pain, as the swords edge cut through to his bone. He stumbled to the ground, dropping his axe and clutching his ankle in pain. The elf and breton, scowled at him, and charge simultaneously, the elf with his dagger, the breton with a sturdy looking iron mace. Jo'Rakha, managed to duck under a quick swipe from the elf, but was sent staggering backwards by the breton's mace that landed with a thud on his chest.
Another soft growl rose in his throat, and he leaped forward, twirling both blades at the elf. The steel danced and wove through the air, knocking aside all the elf's attempts to block them, and buried themselves deep in his gut. Jo'Rakha withdrew the swords, dripping blood now, and turned to face the breton. Stricken with panic, the breton flung his mace to the ground and sprinted off down the road.
Jo'Rakha let out a disgruntled sigh, walking back to where the orc had fallen, jabbing one of the sword into his chests. The orc let out another gasp of pain, and lay still. He bent down to wipe his blades off on the grass, picked up the package again, and headed off down the road to complete his delivery.
Background: Jo'Rakha was born in the dense jungles of Elsweyr. His mother and father ran a tavern in his local village so he spent lots of time doing chores, taking people's orders and other menial tasks. He quickly gained a sense of helping others. But like all Khajiit, he also gained a knack for quick fingers and keeping out of sight. When the chaos following Skyrim's civil war erupted, his village stayed neutral throughout most of the conflict, offering shelter to refugees from both sides. Because refuge was given to both sides, tensions soon rose in the village, and skirmishes broke out in the streets. Refugees from the Thalmor side soon gained an upper hand overthrowing both: the refugees from the Empire, and the village its self.
Thalmor soldiers entered the village shortly thereafter and killed most of the inhabitants, burning the settlement to the ground. Jo'Rakha, now roughly the age of 20, was seperated from his parents. After the soldiers marched from the village, he found his father dead in the remains of their inn. His mother was nowhere to be found. Stricken with grief, he left the ruins of the village, searching for shelter. He traveled across several provinces, including Cyrodiil, Skyrim, Morrowind and Blackmarsh, before finally reaching the eastern shore of Tamriel. There, he received word that those seeking recluse from the chaos in the continent, were heading in vast numbers to the continent of Akavir. Hoping his mother may have gone to Akavir seeking refuge, he boarded the first ship available and set off in search of her.
(Also I heard somewhere that Skooma kills. Remember kids just say no to mysterious substances given to you by strangers.)
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"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted." - Altair Ibn-La'Ahad
OOC: IGN: Sparkcat2 Age: 17 Why us?: I have always liked the Elder Scrolls setting, and the server seems to be well thought out, and functional. Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Not yet, no. I would like to see how the server is before deciding to vote for it. Define Role-Playing in your words: Acting as another person, as if you were them. You decide what the character does, because “you are them.” Define Meta-gaming in your words: Using outside information, such as a friend’s location or information lost due to death, in-character as if your character knew said information. Define Power-gaming in your words: Not giving other players a chance to put their spin on a roleplay, such as saying you attack someone, rather than saying you attempt to attack someone.
IC: Name: Arenar Aurrus Age: 25 Gender: Male Race: Imperial
Appearance: He wears a deep green cloak to blend in with the woods, as well as leather gloves and boots. His eyes are a deep green that mix well with his brown hair, and his clothing. He stands at 5’11”, and wears a black leather tunic on his chest, with simple black cloth pants held by a leather belt. Slung across his back is his recurve bow, always well-maintained and polished. His quiver is slung on his back as well, nearly always full. On his belt lie two sheaths, holding his steel sword and steel dagger.
Personality: One of those who generally keep to themselves, Arenar is a man of few words. When he speaks however, it is in a moderately deep voice which he uses to try and charm others into helping to achieve his goals. The goals he uses others for, however, are near-always good in nature, their intentions to help someone in some way, rather than to fulfill selfish wants. The goals in which he fulfills his own wants, he achieves on his own, so as to have no loose ends.
In-game RP Fight example:
Walking along the road one evening, Arenar heard up ahead along the path the howls of several wolves and in response, unslung his bow and nocked an arrow. Taking a few cautious steps forward along the path, he soon heard the sounds of a scuffle happening. A high-pitched, scared voice screamed out, “Help! Help! Wolves!” Hearing the call for help, Arenar sped up his pace and, turning the corner, immediately released his hold on the string to his bow, firing the arrow directly through the side of the head of a wolf which was leaping at the young man in the road, instantly killing it. Nocking another arrow as quickly as possible, he aimed and fired at the second wolf, coming straight towards him. Hitting it in the stomach, its leap got cut short and it landed with a small cloud of dust several feet in front of Arenar. Seeing that he didn’t have time to nock another arrow to kill the wolf in time, he slung his bow and drew his combination of longsword and dagger, dashing at the wolf collapsed on the ground. He swung his sword towards the wolf’s front right leg, aiming to cut the tendon enough to temporarily disable the wolf until he had dealt with the last one of the group. Succeeding in the slash, he bashed the wolf in the head with the pommel of his dagger, before leaping at the leader of the pack who had at that point pounced onto the chest of the young man, trying to tear into his chest. Essentially tackling the wolf, Arenar rolled with it a few feet away from the man and wrestled with it for several minutes, being bitten and clawed the whole time, before he was able to wrestle it into a position where he could stab his dagger into its throat. Standing slowly and painfully front the wolf’s corpse, he walked where the man lay bleeding. “You alright, sir?” he asked with a hoarse voice, half-expecting the man to be dead. The man grunted in response, unable to speak with his damaged chest, before falling unconscious. Seeing this, Arenar crouched beside the man and inspected the damage done by the alpha wolf. Seeing a large gouge in his chest, he began to slowly drag the man by his feet towards the nearby river by his feet, before taking a few bolts of cloth from his bag. After cleaning the wound with some water, he began to wrap the wound with the cloth, tying it off tightly. He then carried the man off to the side of the road and set him down, proceeding to set up a small campfire to rest by for the night.
Background:
Born in the Imperial City in Cyrodiil, Arenar grew up the son of a poor blacksmith, learning to smith weapons and armors, as well as miscellaneous objects. As he grew older and life grew harder due to living in a war-torn land, he took to the surrounding forests and learned to hunt, trap, and track in order to obtain meats to keep his family alive and pelts and furs as an extra way to try to make money. With this method, as well as his skill as a blacksmith, Arenar managed to pull his family out of the rut they were in and proceeded to live an average life. One day while returning from one of his hunting trips, Arenar returned to his family’s shop in the city to find it had been raided and looted of nearly everything, leaving his family penniless. His father had stood his ground when their shop was attacked, but decided to give in and let them do as they wanted once they threatened to kill him, and showed their dominance by leaving a cut deep into his stomach. For the next few years, Arenar continued to help keep his family afloat with his trading of furs and his skill in blacksmithing, as well as helping his father to cope with the wound. After several years, however, he saw that they were in a slow but steady decline, and realized that merely continuing to do as he was would not be enough. After looking around and pondering for a few days, he overheard in one of the inns that there was a new land filled with riches and, deciding this to be his only option to keep his family alive, said his farewells and left the day after. He was determined to find something to help them, and promised to send back what he could to help his family.
Your application is well done, and you seem to know your definitions well. However there are two points I'd like to address:
A. Altmer age slower than normal humans, if you want him to look thirty six( in human years)know that he is going to actually be much older than that. I'm not going to press you for an exact age, just when you revise this say something like: The Elven Equivalent of 36
B. Now, on the issue of your character's name. It isn't exactly lore friendly, so I'd advise, you to pick a name from here:
http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Altmer_Names
Once again, well done app, and with those changes I'd be glad to accept you.
Okay, I'm here to review your app today.
1. First off, your Meta gaming definition is correct, but needs expanding.
2. Your power gaming portion is partially correct, but it also involves forcing an action onto another player
3. Your name is not Lore Accurate. Nord names sound, well, Nordic. Here is a link to some names you could use: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Nord_Names
4. Your character comes to Akavir with nothing besides the clothes on his back. This means no armor of any sort.
5. Your RP fight example shows a little bit of powergaming. Try using, *attempts* a little more.
6. Akavir is set a number of years after the Civil War in Skyrim, therefore, you're going to have to re-write your backstory, sorry.
7. You are missing something from the bottom of the application. Go read the rules.
I know it's a long list, but I'm sure you can do it. I assure you it will be worth the effort.
Denied, for now.
Okay, Doctor, I'll be reviewing your application today
1. Your definitions, save the meta definition, which needs expanding.
2. Your name is not lore friendly, and how exactly did he get the nickname Doctor? This is a list of Argonian names you could possibly use: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Argonian_Names
3. Why does he have bloodshot eyes?
4. Your RP fight example needs to be re-done entirely, as it lacks any sort of combat. Also, be specific as to what the scenario actually is.
5. Your village could not have been destroyed in a dragon attack. Dragons no longer exist in Tamriel, because the Civil War and the events of TES: Skyrim, took place a while back.
6. One does not simply walk to Akavir. It is an ocean away.
7. Re-read the rules, you missed something from the bottom of your application.
Fix all these, and then re-post the application
Denied, for now.
I'm going to get right to it.
1. Your definitions are somewhat correct, but need expanding. Be more specific.
2. Altmer do not typically have blue eyes. A typical eye color for Altmer is amber, or something of the like. Their hair ranges from a light blonde to a mid brown. Not black.
3. Your RP example needs to include a fight.
4. Your father cannot have fought in the Great War. It is long since over.
5. One does not simply walk to Akavir. You would need to take a boat.
6. I'm rather sure you can't start off with a job.
7. You are missing something from the bottom of your application. Go read the rules. Think about a famous TES drug.
Denied, for now.
1. Your definitions for roleplay and meta gaming are correct. However, your powergaming is somewhat correct and needs expanding on.
2. You are powergaming in your RP example.
3. Now, for your character. You are Super-dee-duper overpowered. You cannot morph into a dragon. You cannot see into the future. You have to re-write your whole character, sorry to say.
Denied, with one chance to fix this. This can be seen as a troll application, and will be permanently denied if you cannot fix the aforementioned.
Well, I only have one major qualm here. Just remove the Hermaeus Mora gift. Your character cannot be daedra blessed like that, even with the weakness.Your backstory would be good without it.
Also, just expand on the definitions
Also, you need to make an application which only allows for three or two weak skills.
Denied until you fix it
OOC:
IGN: Adventurepoo
Age: 15
Why us?: I chose this server, mainly because a friend said it was a glorious server, but also because I have yet to play a Skyrim RP! This server seems very advanced and it looks like there is a lot of players willing it play along side as well. I am excited to play this server because I love the Elder Scrolls, and I love Minecraft.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Not yet, I am currently working on re-creating my Planet Minecraft account, I will do it within the moment I am accepted, and have looked around the server a bit. But I can assure you, my vote will be one of many.
Define Role-Playing in your words: Roleplaying is when you take on a particular role in a game whether it be in real life, or just a basic game. You can take on a person who is strong, brave and muscular or a scientific man who is full of wisdom. There is many opportunities and you get to make up everything about this character. You play in a fictional world as a fictional character.
Define Meta-gaming in your words:When given true information over false product sources, eg: Skype, and you were to input it into the game this will result in a ban or such.
Eg: Your friend gives you the coordinates to a major city and all of the peoples names over skype, then you were to go into the game and go to the city and call the people by their names before they even introduced themselves.
Define Power-gaming in your words: When you act as if you are more powerful than others, or if you are in an RP battle and you are acting more overpowered then you actually are, and you act in such a way that you don't give your opponent a chance.
Eg: *Kain stabs his sword fiercely into the man's back, 100 times over and over again, the man cant do anything and he dies*
IC:
Name: Kain Threm Alados Meretol Adeles
Nickname: Kain Adeles
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human - Breton
Appearance: 6' 0" (1.83 m), 134 lbs. (61 kg) Kain is seemingly tall and for the most part he is calm. His shiny golden hair pierces and not literally, but emotionally. A quiver of arrows is sheathed and clipped to a strap that sways over both shoulders and latches onto his belt. Red and black leather shirt cut off past the elbows, a bandanna is tied around the back of his head and covers his mouth. Open fingered leather gloves allow for a good finger movement and extra grip. Dark blue eyes and his ears covered by his luscious golden hair. His pants contain 4 pockets, for extra holding purposes.
Personality: Kain strives to be an outgoing person, he has a strong work ethic and when given a job he is able to meet all the deadlines early or just in time. Seemingly nice is what Kain makes himself out to be, he holds in all of his anger and depression, but it's a good thing. He makes himself seem nice by helping out everyone around him. Kain is generally a nice, outgoing, hard working, fit warrior.
In-game RP Fight example:
*In a dark forest which was tainted by the treacherous people and creatures, two men who were both in good hands were battling it out, unintentionally of course, one of the two that fought, was Kain.*
*The night grew ever so dark and the trees swayed as they picked up the wind and brushed it past, Kain approached a man in hopes he was a fellow trader as he was in need of food*
"H-Hello..?" Kain says to the man, who is turned around hunched over.
"What is so important that you must approach me in the forest, I have already been beaten and robbed" The man says in a weary voice.
"I am not here to rob you. In fact I was actually wonderi-" Kain attempts to say, but is cut off.
"Then leave you fool, you're disturbing the forest creatures" The man says as he turns to Kain and places a hand on his blade.
*Kain immediately places his hand onto his blade* "I want no trouble, I was just in need of a trade" Kain mumbles to the man.
*The man unsheathes his blade and grips it tightly* "Times are harsh around here kid, and you got stuff I need, I'm going to do what you did to me" The man says as he puts the blade in his left hand, using the right hand to shove Kain.
"Did to you- I never did anything to you! Please I don't want to hurt anyone" Kain says as he unsheathes his blade and backs up"
*The man grips his blade with two hands and lunges towards Kain*
*In a whirlwind, Kain leaps to the right and spins around the man, attempting to kick him in the lower left ribcage*
*The man is kicked and falls back, but does not fall over but simply grips his side, putting both hands on his blade once more*
*Kain makes another attempt and in a fury he swings his blade towards the mans left shoulder as he is dazed*
*The man falls over to avoid contact, but drops his blade, he is quick to pick it up once more, as he makes the final swing towards Kain*
*Kain swings his sword up, towards the mans groin in an attempt to permanently injure him and try and stop him*
*The man is hit and a few drops of blood are all that come from the man, but he is knocked unconscious*
*As the nights appear to open and a slight pierce of daylight rushes in, Kain has fled the scene in hopes of pursuing his goals. That minor set back, did not achieve much as he did not want it to happen*
Background:
"80 years after the events of Skyrim, immigrants from all over Tamriel set off for Akavir. After hearing various rumors of rich lands and the many freedoms each citizen was declared, travelers found passage along the trade routes. Many of these immigrants were trying to escape the fires of war or simply wanted religous freedom and practice."
A young boy named Kain fended for himself in the forests which were a short distance away from most villages surrounding. Kain was born upon the lands of Akavir, from which his parents moved in hopes of practice and wanting to express the open religion. His parents were unknown to him, and he was left in a small blanket and a carved boat-like structure made from sticks and vines that winded together into a strong material. He was found by a group of orcs in the forest who didn't have any intention on killing him because they knew he was alone, and that no one wanted him. They figured that they could train him as he got older to be a mercenary like them. A certain wrong-doing was caused by Kain, when a few prisoners at a small slave camp in the forest were let loose. With immediate action and haste, this lead to quick dismissal. Kain was sent off into the forests at a young age of 8.
Kain was just left for dead.
Kain was probably one of the first people to live in the dense forests at such a young age. After being brought up into a life of crime and misery, hate and sorrow and murder, all of which affected his life. Kain turned out to be alright except for some minor flaws though he still had the passion in him to kill, something inside him just made him want to kill. Kain does everything he can to let out his anger on things that aren't living, but he can't seem to let go of the past, all of the things that the mercenaries did to people, whether it be robbing them or beating them, he wanted to do to everyone else. Kain was able to hold back all anger inside, and able to control all feelings or emotions about being a mercenary.
Roughly 8 years later
__________________
Such a sorrowful child Kain was as he lived a cruel childhood out in the forests alone. 8 Years had passed, all that time alone in the forests changed Kain and he was no longer the same. But the changed Kain was anew. He was better in every way. Kain learned how to control all signs of anger and all feelings, he was so nice and calm but a slight hint of sarcasm lies within him. Kain was wandering through the dense forests, on a valiant venture sought out to find shelter, safety, fresh food and water. The forests supplies were so scarce. Kain came across something he hadn't seen in what seemed to be the longest time; a small village nearly a 2 days walk away. Upon entering the small village he was stopped by three men in full armor with swords that extended down to their feet.
"H-Hello" Kain says to the men.
"Halt Outsider, what business do you have sneaking around the outskirts of our village?!" The tallest one responds.
"I have been in the forests for 8 years, food supplies are running scarce, p-please I don't want to hurt anyone." Kain responds.
The tallest one, now seeming to be the leader, Responds: "Fair enough, hand over your blade, bow and your quiver."
*Kain slowly removes his weapons, placing them on the ground, and stepping around them*
Kain wandered into the town as he was allowed to go past the guards who stood their ground at the entrance. After only a few weeks and great amounts of gratitude towards the small village, Kain was unsatisfied. No matter how much fresh water and baked food he had, it wasn't satisfying enough. Kain needed a better place to live, he packed his things and visited the Forge in the village. Kain was quick to grab his things from the chest with his name labeled on it. He made way towards the entrance and entered into the dense forests again as he felt that burst of light beam on him through the tall trees, he felt back in place...but not quite.
Kain headed west of the village, with his given compass of course and he set off, looking for a new place to call home. The lands of Akavir were dense, people passed by him on a day by day basis and he met so many new people that were just as nice as him, few of these people were torn and wretched but he was able to fend off. All he wanted was peace in the lands of Akavir and that was something he questioned every day; Whether he would obtain what he desired most, or let it slip through his fingers and forget all about it and try to move on.
Thank you for taking the time to read over my application, I tried my best and I guess that is what counts, right? I honestly hope to see most of you online and I can't wait to try out this unique server!
~Adventurepoo~
Skooma Kills.
APPS ARE NO LONGER BEING VIEWED HERE OR PLANET MINECRAFT
The war you refer to in your backstory is the Skyrim CIVIL war. The 2nd great war is taking place during our server's time, fifty years after this. And, it takes me time to review these applications as well. Be glad someone bothered to look it over, and treat whitelisters with respect. I'm not denying you permanently. Just fix it.
IGN: Logan1217
Age: 16
Why us?: I've played other Elder Scrolls based RP servers, and found them entertaining. A friend also recommended me this server so I thought I'd give it a try.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: No I have not, I wasnt completely aware that you could vote, and I will shortly.
Define Role-Playing in your words: Taking on the role of a character created in a false world, to interact with other people who play other characters.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: The conscious or unconscious use of information gained OOCly, this is a common issue for many RP servers due to the players wanting to know stuff they shouldnt, or normally couldnt know.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Being indestrucible in combat, or instantly learning a language to convene with other races. Another example is forcing RP on another, saying something like *hits jacob with a backhanded slap to his left cheek* instead of *tries to backhand jacob's left cheek*.
IC:
Name: James Hodling
Nickname: Hod
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Appearance: He wears a slight light blue shirt with leather straps going around his body, a form of armor and protection. He has black hair and light sky blue eyes. He has greyish pants complete with black boots.
Personality: James is often eager to get things done, and seems pretty happy all the time. When James becomes sad, he becomes incredibly sad, same with all his other emotions.
In-game RP Fight example:
~Bandit: "Hand over your gold, before I'm forced to poke you with my blade!" *draws blade*
~James: "Your going to.... /Poke/ me with your blade?" Begins laughing, and announcing "Not before I poke you!" *draws blade*
~Bandit: *charges at james, attempting to wrap his arm around James and stab straight through his abdomen*
~James: *twists around as the bandit charges, avoiding the attack, bringing his sword around in the twist in an attempt to slash the bandits back*
~Bandit: *gets cut in the back, sending him farther forwards, nearly falling face first into the ground*
~Bandit: *growls, jumping up with teeth bared, sword swinging towards James's skull*
~James: *meets the bandit's blade with his own, in an attempt to hit the blade away and use the recoil to swing the blade at the Bandit's neck*
~Bandit *the blade reaches his neck, slicing deep into it, blood delaying a second before pouring out of the wound*
~James "My gold!" *spitting on the bandit, walking off, sheathing the bloody blade*
Background: James was born in the Imperial city, the capital of Tamriel. His father was a criminal, who just happened to impregnate a *****, the outcome being James. From a young age James learned to swing a toy wooden sword, and how to hit other kids hard with that sword. James not happy with his life always tended to pick on the little kids, and the kids who always seemed to have a little pocket money their parents must have kept giving them. James at the age of 6, decided he wanted to be a bandit, a quite childish thing to think about, and everybody ignored it, thinking James was just playing. He went kid to kid, playing his 'game' of banditry, taking little pouches of coin from every kid he found. This went on for about a year before one of the children told their parents, and they went on to tell the city guard. Since James was pretty much homeless, it was pretty hard to find him, as he could be anywhere. It only took a day before James was apprehended and thrown into jail for stealing a total of 176 gold coins. James learned what it was like inside a jail... he didn't like it in the slightest. He found it extremely boring, and when it came time to eat, the guards would always pick on him, teasing him with their food. James hated his existence, hated being caught and hated being in jail with real criminals.
This is where James met his father, marking a new part in his life. James's father was a hard man, but a protective one, and from day one James's father was watching him, making sure nobody caused him harm. One day in the eating area, a big redguard man walked up to James's, and started saying how he was in the Redguard's seat. In one hit ~WHABAM!~ the big redguard was on the floor, holding his head groaning in pain. James looked to the man who did that, and decided to go and talk to him, after some debate in his head, unsure of what he should be doing. He approached his father, asking why he did what he did, and to put it simply, his father told him the straightest answer to be... "I'm your father." He quickly dismissed his son, sending him back to where he was sitting, to finish his food. James was never even approached after that, he got released 3 months later.
James upon turning 14 decided to leave the Imperial city, as there was no proper life for him here anymore, he couldnt even steal anything with all the guards eyes on him all day and night. James left the Imperial city at the crack of dawn, going to the stable, hopping on a horse and riding as far and fast as he could. James passed through several small towns and large cities, taking what he could, running from guards when he had to, all to keep himself and his horse fed. James did this for a year, before stumbling upon a poster, advertising the treasures and new cities of Akavir, and your chances to make yourself rich. James saw it as a blessing, ripping down the poster and following the directions to where he had to go to get aboard the ship that'll later be taking him there. The deal for getting to Akavir was giving 1 year service onboard the ship, until they finally reached Akavir at the end of the year. James quickly agreed, working his **** off to pay off the fare to get to Akavir, but when he arrived, he was happy. James was starting a new chapter in his life, all thats left now is to choose... Should he revert to his old ways as a criminal? or should he find something more solid and honest to do for a living....?
"Gift". If you didn't notice, in the app it says it's a curse. There's no blessing there and it's completely within the realm of possibility of TES. He isn't super powered or anything, just has an increased lifespan. What do you mean "three or two weak skills"?
I see no reason for it to not be allowable.
IGN: SnipeTheMonkey
Age: 16
Why us? Your server interests me as i once played a similar RP to this, also many good friends of mine are on this server.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Yea
Define Role-Playing in your words: (See front page for examples): The act of taking on a fictional character in a fictional realm with other players.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Taking information that your character doesn't know in game, and using it in the game.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Using unreal and un-obtainable mechanics in game to achieve goals faster or control RP.
IC
Name: Buford
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Race: Nord
Appearance: Buford is recognized by missing half the hair on his head, wearing blue farmers trousers & a white shirt. Bushy eyebrows. 6"2 tall. Some could say his eyes shimmered with the moon. Others would pass by him, and say that his eyes were soul devouring. Buford was once very outgoing but through constant abuse that he received when he was a kid, he learned how to stand up for him self, and is cautious of people. Buford is a rather tall man that is beefy and muscular.
Personality: Buford's personality is rather scattered and twisted in many ways. Buford act's this way because of his constant abuse as a child, he comes off as a nice person to fool the citizens. Upon caring for citizens and treating them nicely, he will sooner or later crack and turn on those around him.
In-game RP Fight example: (Include dialog) *Jermiah, a friend, emerges from a forest looking skeptical, Buford approaches him to
speak*
Buford: *Looks at Jermiah with concern*"Where did you just come from my friend, You look rather worried"
Jermiah: *Avoids eye contact, looking away* "Um..Nothing" *Blood drips from his hand*
Buford:*Pulls out a piece of rope from his pocket, winding it in his hands*
Jermiah: *Peers down at the rope in Bufords hands* "Don't...Don't do this Buford!"
Buford:*Jumps towards Jermiah, attempting to put the rope around his neck*
Jermiah:*Struggles, attempting to remove the rope from his neck, but is too weak*
Buford:*Applies more pressure, blood starts dripping from Jermiah's neck* *He screams: Night time Jermiah!"
Jermiah:*Flails arms about in a hopeless manor,body falls, lifelessly into Buford's arms*
Buford:*Throws the body to the left of him, Walking away like nothing happend* "Whispers to himself: Make the red river flow.
Background: (Detailed and in-depth, 2 paragraphs. Also, explain how you came to be in Akavir.)
Buford was born and raised in Tamriel by his parents, not much knowledge is remembered from Tamriel as he tries to forget all of his past. All of the immigrants that lived in Tamriel including him and his parents decided to adventure off to the lands of Akavir in hopes of gaining riches.
Buford lived a harsh life of cruelty and torture. His parents were abusive. They didn't love him, nor want him around. They kept overhearing the noise of him playing his Accordion in the basement. They would sneak down the stairs, and grab the Accordion from his hands, and beat him with it. His only defense was to run to the panic room, that even his parents didn't know of. When Buford was slightly older he disliked everyone around him. It might have been because of the constant abuse he received from his family.
Upon getting older Buford decided to leave his abusive family and live a life among the wild animals outside, as he wasn't too comfortable around people. Upon being outside so much Buford picked up the skill of farming to keep himself full of food, and to help him forget his past. Through all of Buford's abuse and travels he still kept his Accordion skills up to tune. To this day when Buford passes by people in large settlements he is still looked at funny, as if they see something in him that is devilish. Buford travels the lands living his sad life all by himself with the memory of being abused and hated as a child still in his head, soon to be shared with the world. *Evil grin*
*Skooma Kills!*
Well, alright. I've talked to other people on the whitelisting team as well, and we have collectively decided not to let you have the curse.
On the issue of magic, your character can only start out knowing three Novice level spells, like Sparks and Cinders.
Remember to post the revised application on the enjin forums that I linked, not here.
I don't see how that would happen, at all. Considering I'm not applying as a champion, just a worshiper. But, forget it, I'll just withdraw my application. It isn't worth debating this.
IGN: Rhisereld
Age: 18
Why us?: Someone mentioned Elder Scrolls and RP to me. That's like dangling a cigarette in front of a chain-smoker. From that point on, this application was inevitable.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Yes.
Define roleplaying in your words: Roleplaying is pretending to be a character for fun. While you are roleplaying, you forget your real-life grudges, personality, experiences and knowledge and adopt those of your character. That being said, it is important to maintain IC and OOC seperation and refrain from metagaming and powergaming in order to make roleplaying as fun as possible.
Define Meta-gaming in your words:
Metagaming is the act of using information in roleplay that your character should not know. Obtaining and using co-ordinates or rushing to an event your character does not know about is metagaming. Recognising somebody from their Minecraft username or locating them using their nameplate is metagaming. Knowing somebody’s name, title or profession from their RP name in chat is metagaming. Heck, making a gun in a world where guns have not yet been invented is metagaming, because your character does not even know what they are!
Define Power-gaming in your words:
Powergaming is a style of unrealistic and overpowered roleplaying that ruins the roleplaying atmosphere. I identify Mary-Sue characters, god-modding, game mechanic abuse, and forcing other players' actions as general "powergaming", so my definition may include a wider range of actions than that of most people.
In character creation, powergaming is known as creating unrealistic backstories and characters, breaking lore or making your character overpowered by giving them random magical powers or too many skills.
In game mechanics, powergaming is known as taking advantages of glitches and functions of the game to do things that your character would not be able to do. This includes block jumping, duplication of items, and aggressive farming/grinding.
As a roleplaying style, powergaming is known as roleplaying forcefully and demanding that your actions are successful. This also includes dodging attacks without being hit and refusing to be defeated when you have clearly been thwarted. In some cases it is actions that simply do not fit in with your character: farmers hunting monstrous beasts in their free time, and peasant girls pulling out a diamond sword and kicking butt whenever they feel threatened. This goes hand-in-hand with Mary-Sewerage and makes me die a little bit inside.
Name: Sassinak
Nickname: Sass
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Race: Nord
Appearance:
Sassinak is a typical fair-skinned Nord, with long blonde braided hair and steely grey eyes. She stands at 5'9", well-muscled and toned from years of travel. She is rarely seen without a bow and quiver full of arrows.
I used this as a reference for her character: http://tinyurl.com/lzb9f5h
The skin I made turned out a little differently: http://tinyurl.com/llh22dk
Personality:
As any young Nord without a place in the world, Sassinak is easily vexed by life's frustrations. She has been known to be quick to anger, and frequently the one to loose the first arrow. Otherwise, she has a naturally gentle disposition and she means no real harm. She tends to wander, with little skill or real purpose in life.
In-game RP Fight example:
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Sassinak released arrow after arrow from her bow to bury themselves into the straw target. A few other other youths stood around, one or two shooting arrows alongside her, but most were roughhousing about. Save for the occasional cry of a bird, the group of misfits were alone in the clearing.
When she reached for her quiver and found that her arrows are out, she lowered her bow and collected her arrows.
"Not bad," said a voice beside her, and she looked across to see a young Bosmer, Maglir, lean down and yank four of his arrows out of the centre of the target - the arrows marked with red tails. She paused skeptically, knowing Maglir to be a disagreeable sort. After a moment an inevitable smile spread across her face and she nodded to the compliment.
"I mean... for a Nord," he grinned and turned to resume his shooting position.
Oh. Her brows lowered into a scowl and she snatched up her remaining arrows and marched after him, "!" She planted herself in front of the Bosmer, forcing him to lower his bow. "I can shoot just as well as any of you! Look."
She turns and drew her arrow back in a smooth movement, a thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. The tip of the arrow wavered as she drew in a breath and aimed for the target. She exhaled and just began to release the arrow.
"BANDITS!" A voice in her ear cried.
She flinched violently and her bow jerked, sending her arrow flying into the trees where it embeded itself into a trunk. She looked around hastily for the aforementioned bandits, but found only Maglir's smirk and giggling in the background. It was naught but a trick.
"Oh my... another arrow gone. I suppose it can be expected of a clumsy Nord. I'm surprised you can even shoot with those enormous ha-"
His sentence was cut short by a blow across his face with the wood of her bow. The giggling abruptly turned into shrieks of "Sass!" as she raised her weapon for another blow, her face contorted in embarassment. "You little worm!" She brought the bow down again to bludgeon him, but this time Maglir dodged to the side and grabbed the bow, pulling Sassinak forwards to punch her squarely in the face. She fell on him in a bundle of flailing fists shouting obscenities, and the two had to be forcefully separated by the others.
Sassinak panted as she clutched her nose which already seemed to be dripping with blood, possibly broken. A quick glance over at Maglir confirmed that he was staggering to his feet, likewise nursing his bruises. She went to shove off the two who had separated her from the fight and they released her in disgust.
"Nine Divines, Sassinak!" A female khajiit named Zahraji complained, "Why do you always have to take everything so seriously!"
Sassinak's face reddened and she mumbled an apology, clamping her nose and tipping her head back.
(I realise half of this was leading up to the brawl, but I'd like to focus on why Sassinak fights and the RP that can come from the fight.)
Background:
Sassinak returned home late at dusk, slipping into the khajiiti caravan camp with her face still dirtied with dried blood. She nodded respectfully to those sitting around the fire, her ma, pa and brothers counted among them. She may not be a khajiit, but they were the only family she had known.
She stalked over to a bucket of water and knelt, splashing the cool water over her face. She began to scrub away at the dried blood encrusted on her face. It quickly came away from her skin; soon enough her face was clean and the water was bloody.
A hand clasped her shoulder and she looked up to see the concerned face of her pa peering down at her.
"Fighting again? Dar'shaza is disappointed."
Sassinak gave a wordless nod as she dried her face on her sleeve, "Sorry," she murmured.
Dar'shaza sighed softly and settled cross-legged opposite her. "Sorry does not undo wounds. Why do you fight so much, child?"
"I get angry." There is no response to this. She picked up a twig from the ground and begins to break it into small pieces. "Who is my real family?" she asks after a long silence.
Dar'shaza examined his daughter with a glint is his eye and gestured to the caravan around the campfire, "Why, we are."
"Oh come on," Sassinak tossed the shredded pieces of wood onto the ground. "Pa! I stopped believing that when I noticed you had a tail. I'm twenty years old. I want to know."
"You won't like it."
"Pa!"
Dar'shaza sighed and leaned back, "Before we travelled to Akavir, we traded in Skyrim for many years. Cold, but many opportunities. Dar'shaza did not know your parents well. Your father came to us many times for skooma. An outlaw, maybe a bandit. He had much coin but one day the gold ran out. We turned him away when he couldn't pay."
"He came back with a babe in his arms and proposed a trade for skooma. Dar'shaza accepted. Dar'shaza asked what your name was. You had no name. We called you Sassinak."
Sassinak fell silent.
Dar'shaza lowered his voice, looking across at her. "An outlaw and a sugar tooth is no fit father."
She nodded dumbly, staring at her fingers as they begin to tremble. She sat there for a full minute thinking.
"I-I want to leave the caravan," she mumbled finally, looking up.
"Dar'shaza hoped you would stay with us. You guard the caravan well."
"I know, but I'm not a khajiit. I don't... I don't belong here. I want to find my own way."
Dar'shaza leaned over to a paw on her shoulder. "Then may you walk on warm sands, Sassinak," he murmured, rising to his feet to walk away.
Sassinak watched as he left, leaving her to sit in the darkness alone. Looking back to the bucket of water, she catches a reflection of her pale hair and skin in the moonlight. She knocks the bucket of bloody water over in frustration.
"Skooma kills," she mutters under her breath.
IGN:
Brokencrowe
Age:
20
Why us?:
I am simply looking for a good roleplay experience, I’ve been on some fairly poor roleplaying servers in the past; this one just combines two things I enjoy very much: the Elder Scrolls universe with Roleplay.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?:
Yup, I had to count squares and triangles for you guys! Also, my girlfriend will be posting this application on Planet Minecraft on my behalf; I do not have an account on Planet Minecraft and I do not intend to make one. I apologize in advance for this fact. Her Planet Minecraft username is Yaen.
Define Role-Playing in your words:
To engage in the act of roleplaying one must first set aside all real life feelings and ambitions . You create a singular character and drop them in a bigger world, in the context of Akavir this world is Tamriel. You get inside this character’s head and leave an impression on that world. This character has a unique set of qualities, ideals and traits; ones you must keep separate from your real life persona. Using this character you tell a shared story amongst all the other roleplayer's in this world, and aim for a mutually fun experience. In short, roleplaying is much like acting; you play out your role on a broader stage.
Define Meta-gaming in your words:
Normally, in a roleplay situation you would simply narrow your view to that of what only your character would realistically know and think. You would limit yourself your character's history, and what they have experienced. The act of metagaming is opening up this view, in order to delve into knowledge that they normally would have no access to in a roleplay situation. In short, metagaming is the act of using information your character would have no means of knowing in a roleplay situation.
Define Power-gaming in your words:
In roleplaying you should always aim for gives and takes; you cannot always come out on top, and must take into account your characters strengths and weaknesses. Powergaming is the act of ignoring such faults, and coming to an overall conclusion that is not overly realistic. For instance, if you were caught up in a fight and were dealt several wounds over a period of half an hour, realistically you would be exhibiting symptoms of blood loss: heavy fatigue, dizziness, loss of motor functions. In short, you would collapse. If you however, powered through this, and showed no signs that you were slowly bleeding to death. That would be an act of powergaming.
Another example would be if a baker caught a street urchin swiping a loaf bread from his local stall, but the thief constantly got away, ignoring all attempts by the baker to stop or capture him by emoting things such as, "knocks merchant to the ground and sprints off to safety." However, powergaming goes far beyond simply combat scenarios, again it is about the realism of your character. If you were roleplaying a halfling and a massive orc sat on you, you would not be able to overpower the orc. You might be able to outwit him, but in a contest of strength... Well I see no real contest. If the halfling were to emote overpowering the orc, by tossing him aside, I would also see this as powergaming, for it breaks the realism of the scene.
IC:
Name:
Levant
Nickname:
N/A.
Age:
153
Gender:
Male
Race:
Dunmer (Dark Elf)
Appearance:
Levant stands at five feet and nine inches in height, with jet black shoulder length hair. He has a pair of almond shaped maroon eyes that glimmer in the low light. He is nearly always wearing a soft and gentle smile that gives an air of welcoming to any he comes across. His shoulders tilt downward at a gradual angle, he is not square chested. He is thin but not frail; his years as a sword smith have added SOME meat to his bones. He is still painfully thin, though, by anyone else's standards. He wears a gray under shirt, that is a few sizes too big for him, it spills out from under his black over tunic, which fits snugly about his torso; to compensate for the loose under shirt he wears straps about his arms, that have large iron clasps, to keep the fluid material from getting in the way while he is working. He wears black pants, and black boots; and has a strap going across his shoulders for his satchel which is stuffed full of supplies that may or may not come in use.
His ears are slanted backward, and longer than normal, and his skin is a misty gray, like the soot from a forge. He generally has small pocket tools hanging off of his belt, such as tiny knives for cutting rope or opening letters; he rarely ever holds a weapon for lethal means, but has scars from his years of extensive training with a sword, and scars especially from his years as a sword smith. His face is almost childlike, despite his 150 years of age, and his hair falls about the curve of his face in a messy sort of way. He has medium sized nose, and full lips. He also wears black leather gloves that nearly always cover his medium sized hands that seem to be gentler than of a working sort.
Concept art done by a man named Griff and his wife Peach (Nyra/Marella):
http://i.imgur.com/Vxqg3Iw.jpg
http://i.imgur.com/cCvsjdN.jpg
My Skin:
http://gyazo.com/41662214a95579d8da70b38a689cc902
Personality:
Levant is a humble dark elf, who hardly discriminates against others. He isn’t an average Dunmer, for he had the misfortune of being parted from his biological parents at birth; being raised by Imperials, his outlook on life is significantly different than that of your average Dunmer. Levant is humble, caring, kind natured, and finds himself drifting through life more so than taking part in it. He enjoys the simple act of observing.
In-game RP Fight example:
Levant steps out from underneath one of the vine covered tunnels leading straight to the a large Plaza overlooking two intersecting rivers, he passes a man in garbed in leather armor and smiles kindly to him, only to receive a cold look of indifference. Making his way past the man, he feels the wind pick up and rush past his ears, and swirl about his fingertips; humming a soft tune to himself he makes a left turn onto the sandstone path, and catches glimpse of two armed guards harassing a frail, almost sickly looking man; it appears to Levant as if they are mugging the poor fellow. Sighing to himself he approaches the men, and raises his hand out in what he hopes looks like a peaceful gesture.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Levant says clapping his hands together, stepping in between the guards and the tiny man. "Can't this all be settled over a nice cup of tea?" Levant tilts his head to the side, his big maroon eyes dancing with sincerity.
"A cup o' tea? What you blabbering about Dark Elf?" One of the guard pokes his sword at Levant. "Ye best be gettin' out o' here, this here boy is, ah, being subject to questioning."
"And what was his crime?" Levant tilts his head to the side, his widening in question.
"Well, ah, you see..." The guard fumbles briefly not quite sure as of what to say.
"It is my thoughts you were abusing your powers," Levant shakes his head, and holds him arms outward in disappointment. "You're supposed to be upholders of justice, you don't simply step down on those who are... quite literally beneath you!" Levant glances to the short man with a reassuring smile. "So let's all be fine gentlemen and forget about all this, hey?"
"I've had enough of you Dark Elf," the first guard swings his blade at Levant, with a wide careless strike. Narrowing his eyes, Levant side steps narrowly dodging the blow.
"Run fella," Levant says shoving the the man towards the tunnel. He whirls around quickly throwing up the satchel that was slung over his shoulder to parry the oncoming blow from the second guard. The bag is split open and various oddities spill out across the plaza, the wind picks up and sends stray pieces of paper soaring towards the sky.
"Now, now Gentlemen, it doesn't have to be this way." Levant drops his bag, and holds his hands up harmlessly.
"You're interfering with th' law, you better pay up." The guards grin, he is missing a few teeth. He pokes his blade out at Levant once more, the grin widening. "How many coins you got under that there cloak, eh?"
Levant's jaw tightens somewhat. "I don't hand coin out to belligerents." He says simply batting the flat of the blade away, and then proceeds to smooth the front of his tunic. In a fit of rage the guard swipes his blade across Levant's torso, stepping backward a split second too late, a shallow cut forms across Levant's tunic, a light trickle of blood starts to spill out across his shirt. Grimacing slightly, he frowns.
"Well gentleman..." Levant glances about looking for some sort of escape. Oh why didn't I bring my sword, of all days... Levant takes a step backward, only to have the guard match him step for step. What to do, what to do. A bead of sweat slides down his brow, he was losing blood, but not so quickly. The wound was shallow. Glancing to his left he sees the lake below. Should I jump? Levant inches towards the railing.
"Well gentlemen... It was nice talking to you... It's been really eye opening." Levant smiles grimly. He whirls about and starts sprinting down the sandstone path, and heads towards the railing. They are in heavy iron, they can't keep up if I make it down into the water. Grabbing hold of the railing he flings himself over the edge and goes spiraling aimlessly into the water below. Not having ample time to position himself correctly he crashes in the water, and it splashes all about him in a wide ring of water. His lungs are filled with water, and he chokes briefly before resurfacing and gasping for air. Swimming to the coast, he picks himself up and begins walking towards the hills. "Well that wasn't how I planned on starting my morning... Well at least I was able to help someone." Levant smiles to himself as he heads back to his Camp. I had best tend to this wound.
Background:
((This biography was written in Character, as a letter to his friends.))
With each passing day I grow more and more sure of the coming storm Delaselva spoke of, friendships will be crippled, and not entirely by choice. We’ve already lost Malco and Sen to the shifting tides of fate; I’ve never been a holy man, but to the Divines let them be safe. It is in these trying times one has to worry about the future, and think far ahead to whatever may lay in waiting. The pack of misfits I come from are my friends, my kin, my family. I need to think of their wellbeing above all else. I would prefer my worldly possession to find a proper home in the hands of my kin, where they can be most used; for I am leaving this land very soon.
For the past five decades I have been traveling the lands, selling my wares to all those I passed; for the past fifty years I’ve honed my craft as best I could. Sword smithing is my art, my passion, my livelihood – It is to my friend, no my brother Durin I leave my trusted smithy’s hammer. It has never failed me –it gleams like the day I crafted it. Just be sure to polish it often.
Throughout my travels I have rarely ever had to raise my blade against another, but in the few trying times that I’ve faced in my many years no other blade has served me best than Unthereal, the blade I forged when I was but a boy. The eagle crest upon the guard was my mentor Lucares’ family insignia, it was under his tutelage that I learned how to smith blades in the first place. I leave my prized blade to Julianna, my adopted daughter –May you honor her well.
Delaselva, my dearest friend, and my brother I leave to you all of the written works I’ve collected over the years, as well as my book on all the tea recipes I’ve concocted over the years –May you one day finally learn how to make a good cup of tea. Delaselva, among these books you will find many of my own works; they detail my lack luster studies of the Undead and Draugr, may they aid you in furthering you own research and endeavors.
In my lifetime I’ve never been a materialistic man, I’ve never held much joy in possessing large quantities of Gold or gems –I’ve always preferred bartering for essentials, as it were. However, over the years as a merchant, you cannot help but obtain a few precious gems along the way. To Breva I leave all of my gold and shiny tid-bits –May you cherish them for eternity.
Jhonen, I may not have known you for very long, but you taught me what it meant to truly appreciate the grass beneath our feet. I thank you for this – You little farm boy. I will also never forget the stench of fish you brought to our trade camp. All journeys begin with the same few steps – A backpack, a staff, and a trusted cloak – and these are the things I leave to you: my satchel of herbs and medicines, my leather cloak and my staff –These objects have been by my side since I left the coal mines, and I hope they serve you well.
Sen, we may not have talked much, but you’ve been with us since the start, and if you are ever located again, I leave to you my bracers –Though, they serve no practical combat use, they will keep your sleeves done up nice and taut, they have provided me good use while in the forge, and I hope they provide you with equally good use while out in the field. I know how much you like digging for lost treasure. Good luck my friend, may the divines guide you to safety.
And last but not least, Malco, good old Malco. You are another who has been around from the start, but made an untimely disappearance. To you I leave you the key to our old home. Remember our days in the desert? Back when we had real beds? Before we became a band of traveling gypsies? It was you who provided me with my first real home, and although it no longer exists, the memory is still a strong one. Thank you.
For now our band of Gypsies has been scattered and lost throughout Tamriel. As of tomorrow, I will make my way to Akavir, by boat, to make my new fortune. May my possessions help you all; if fate wills it may we all meet again, in this life or the next. Farewell.
Signed,
L
P.S.
Oh and Malco, never forget: Skooma Kills!
IGN:
bighead201
Age:
17
Why us?:
Well, why not? This server has taken two excellent games and combined them into one roleplaying experience. I have been on my fair share of RP servers, some good and some bad, and I hope that this turns out to be a one of the better.
Have you voted for us at PlanetMinecraft?:
Give me a second to click a few buttons. beep boop beep. Done.
Define Role-Playing in your own words:
Roleplaying is such an excellent subject. It is the act of letting go of your physical self and immersing yourself into the world of another. OOC and IC are to remain separate so no Metagaming, or Power-gaming occurs and everyone involved has fun doing whatever it is that they may do.
Define Meta-gaming in your own words:
Metagaming is the act of obtaining and using knowledge that is not otherwise known to your character. Learning something from a friend online such as, “There is a planned battle that we have never heard of or have any allegiance to, LETS GO FIGHT!” This is an example(albeit a poor one) of metagaming.
Define Power-gaming in your own words:
Powergaming is the act of using Godly to above average skills and talents to enhance your characters abilities. If involved with other players, instantly killing them or “blocking every sword thrust without taking a hit” or pretty douche moves and are examples of powergaming.
IC:
Name:
Durin Wolfstorm
Age:
26
Gender:
Male
Race:
Nord
Appearance:
MC Skin:http://gyazo.com/56856215b8c1f04df45619a4f103b253
Durin is fair skinned, has shortish blonde hair and posses eyes of a deep blue. He is approximately 6 feet tall with a narrow but well built body, specifically trained for the art of a thief.
Personality:
Durin is kind enough, with enough harsh words and gentleness as the next man. Around friends he is the life of the party, otherwise he is cautious and calculating. He is the type of man you want to be friends with, his enemies have a tendency of disappearing mysteriously.
In game RP fight:
The house sits atop a hill in the forests of Tamriel. The front yard is a mass of slaves toiling away at the crops that cover the deforested land. The landowner stands gleaming, on a balcony, admiring all of the work he has done and the fruits of his “labor.” The wheat on the outer fringes sway in the wind as the workers keep harvesting.
A shadow moves in the distance.
Night approaches, as the shadows grow longer and the slaves retire; shadows seems to move alongside the manor. Lowering his mask, Durin glances at his apprentice, a Bosmer named Anvarn. “We go in, get what we need and get out.” Durin whispers. “Yeah yeah I got it.” Anvarn replies smugly. Slipping the mask back on, Durin starts to climb up the side of building, edging toward the closest window.
Opening and entering the building, footsteps are heard in the hall outside the closet he came into. Opening the door a crack, he peers out. A guard clad in steel sits at a table on the other side of the room, whilst another leans against a support beam in the middle of the room. Withdrawing, he cracks his fingers, draws a sword from his back and readies a spell in his left hand. As he goes to open the door, Anvarn crashes into him, sending him sprawling through the door.
A look of surprise flashes across the mercenaries faces before they drew their weapons. Durin springs into a leap and unleashes Frenzy into the farthest mercenary and dove to the left as the closer man took a large slashing leap at him. Jumping into the rafters, “Oi, get down here you dirty thief!” the man says. “Yes, get down here” the frenzied man says, right before embedding his axe in the others skull. “Now why don’t we have a small chat.”
Anvarn, seeing a chance, leaps from the shadows. Landing on the guards back, he clutches tightly and stabs the man several times before he sucumbs. Anvarn having an unseen smug grin, Durin studies the wounds. “Sloppy and random, try harder.” As he says this, the “dead” guard blows a whistle.
Staring in astonishment, he starts sprinting for the master bedroom with Anvarn on his heels. Barging through a set of doors a pair of guardsmen appear. Leaping over a table, Durin grabs two daggers, throwing them they strike the mercenaries in the joints of their armor, stopping them with the poison that coated the blades.
Finally entering the master bedroom, the wife sits on the bed covering herself with the sheets. Muttering a small apology to her, Durin starts gathering the valuables in the room. A loud crash comes from outside as the lord comes in with a loaded crossbow. “Alright, now its over.” he states clearly. Durin drops what he was holding and holds his hands above his head. Anvarn, always the smartalec replies “Yeah, sure.” and continues to loot. The lord points the crossbow at Anvarn and fires. An instant later a weakness poisoned dagger thumps into the lords shoulder.
Glancing over, Anvarn is down, most likely dead. Gathering several dropped items, he stuffs them into his pack and heads for the balcony. Leaping he rolls as he hits the ground. Looking back, “I’ll have to return. Hopefully he has more guards.” He strolls down the path, flipping a septim in the air.
Backround:
((This is reminiscent thought, just try to stick with me.))
My friends have left. All my connections are gone. I am wanted for several crimes in most of the Tamriel and cannot be paid off. It is time I moved. I start walking down a path, and think when did this all start?
I was 9, my father was a smith, and we were in the Imperial City Market District. My father was no special man, however due to his skill in smithing my family were accepted into a small group of merchants. I was born into the life. One of our swordsmiths was a great person. A dunmer by the name of Levant grew a fondness for me. I’m not sure what it was, but as I grew we became great friends. Wait, no the market district, thats what I was talking about.
Well, my father was shopping for materials that he would need to smith his wares. The entire time I was being told that I would be a great smith, I would learn how to make the strongest shields and sharpest swords. I believed him, and when we got to this point in our conversation a man in black approached my father and slit his coin purse. Catching the Septims, the man ran as my father yelled “THIEF! GET BACK HERE!” It was at this moment that I chased him. My father followed but I outran him. The thief jumped down into a sewer and I followed. Not the smartest idea but I was young. The thief looked back, upon seeing me he stopped and turned. Crouching, he said quietly “Well well, we have a natural here. Since you caught me, take this.” he offered a black coin out to me which I took eagerly. Looking up I saw that he had disappeared. Walking back out, my father had called the guards. As I stepped out covered in filth, he embraced me in a bear-crushing hug and asked “Are you alright? Did you find anything?” I said yes to the first and no to the second, caressing the coin in my pocket. There my career began.
Time passed, relationships grew and we were back at the Imperial City. I was about 14. I had learned some smithing from Levant and my father. Upon entering the city I went off in a search to find the same man. I looked long and hard yet he escaped me. When time came to leave I noticed a new face, it was the thief. I approached him and showed him the same coin that he gave to me a long time ago. Nabbing it from my hand he said, “meet me after we stop and eat.” This man taught me the art thievery and alchemy. I am no way a master at it, yet I can still make dastardly poisons and helpful potions.
Years and many thefts later, he became aware of my attunement to magic and quickly taught me some of the most important magic. He told me, “Illusion is one of the most overlooked magic trees in the all of Mundus. Used in the right hands it becomes the most powerful tree. I may not know many spells, but the ones I do know have saved me more than once.”
This man also taught me the thief’s code. This life that I had was kept secret from everyone, the only one who knew it was this other man. But now it is all gone.
The merchant group has been disbanded and I have gone solo for a time. Making a living by stealing items for clients. It was not until my friend Levant left Akvir and left his note that my infamy grew across Tamriel. So, I have decided to leave. If not to reunite with old friends, then to start anew. For if I have learned one thing, Skooma Kills.
((Side note: The magic that my character posses is strictly Illusion, it is nonlethal and only confuses people in RP. The Alchemy skill will be applied for once I am accepted to the server.))
http://signaturecraft.himynameisaj.me/God+Of+War/Mountains/bighead201/Diyrlik+Dragonbourne/Soul+of+Dragons.png
OOC:
IGN: RO812
Age: 17
Why us?: I'm rather active on another RP server called Gildorym based off D&D. A friend told me about this one and I thought a server based off of TES would be interesting.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: No
Define Role-Playing in your words: Taking on the role of a fantasy/fictional character and becoming a part of it's world.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Using information gained OOC or on a forum post IC such as: Learning a location of something, and immediately visiting it IC, Knowing another character's name IC by looking at one of their posts/application.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Power gaming is tipping the events of an RP situation to an extremely unfair advantage, such as: One shot kills, Shooting an arrow through 6 opponent. (possible, but highly unlikely, and requires a rather large arrow.), or killing other players randomly with no given reason.
IC:
Name: Jo'Rakha
Nickname: (Going to come up with an alias for him at some point, but don't want to use anything cliche, over used, or something that sounds like a 12 year old's Xbox live account.)
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Race: Khajiit
Appearance: Jo'Rakha stands at nearly 6'1 with an decently athletic build. His physical strength is nothing special, but he is quick, agile, and sly. He has dark brown, almost black, fur covering his body. His medium length tail is the same color as his fur, except with slightly brighter rings of hair every inch or so. His muzzle is not too short, but smaller than most khajiit's and his jaw is tightened into a blank scowl. His sharp amber eyes, scan his surroundings and he seems to be on his toes at all times (figuratively). He wears a dark colored cloak, usually with the hood up, and a slot cut in the back to give his tail room to help him balance. He walks purposefully, head level, arms straight, and strides long, not giving off a sense of cockiness, but confidence.
Personality: He keeps to himself mostly, but not out of shyness. When conversations arise he participates as would anyone. He displays himself as friendly and is generally someone who does what is right. He will do anything to achieve his goals, regardless of how others may feel about it.
In-game RP Fight example: (Include dialog)
Jo'Rakha walked along the tiny, dust covered path on the outskirts of what was left of a small nord village. The smoldering remains of the houses were all that was left after a recent Thalmor invasion, and the scent of smoke, choked his nostrils.
Up the road aways, was the house of a merchant he had been hired to deliver a package to. There were nearly two miles left on his journey now, and the tiny speck of the thatched roof came into view as he was passing the town. A scuffling sound came from his right. His ear twitched at the sudden noise, and he turned to face it, cautiously placing a hand on the hilts of his two steel blades. An average sized Wood elf emerged from behind a smashed vendor stall and chuckled menacingly at him.
"What've we got here eh? Little kitty lost his way?" teased the elf.
Jo'Rakha felt a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. "You have no business speaking with this one..." he hissed in reply. "Leave now, I have important things to attend to."
The elf's only reply was another chuckle. He shook his head and drew a small, sharp dagger. "You aren't going anywhere friend. Now hand over your valuables, or me and my pals will take them from your corpse."
Upon saying this, a tall, muscular orc stepped from behind one of the smoldering buildings, drawing a large two handed axe, and a young breton man, appeared from an alley way and stood next to the elf.
Jo'Rakha's eyes darted back and forth between each of the bandits as he drew both of his swords, holding them in a readied stance. "I give you one final warning, leave me be, or you die." he warned.
All three of the outlaws laughed in unison, advancing on him. The big orc, took a mighty swing with his axe, but to his dismay was sprayed in the face with dirt as Jo'Rakha dove out of the way of the swing, arcing the blade in his right hand at the orcs ankle. The orc yowled in pain, as the swords edge cut through to his bone. He stumbled to the ground, dropping his axe and clutching his ankle in pain. The elf and breton, scowled at him, and charge simultaneously, the elf with his dagger, the breton with a sturdy looking iron mace. Jo'Rakha, managed to duck under a quick swipe from the elf, but was sent staggering backwards by the breton's mace that landed with a thud on his chest.
Another soft growl rose in his throat, and he leaped forward, twirling both blades at the elf. The steel danced and wove through the air, knocking aside all the elf's attempts to block them, and buried themselves deep in his gut. Jo'Rakha withdrew the swords, dripping blood now, and turned to face the breton. Stricken with panic, the breton flung his mace to the ground and sprinted off down the road.
Jo'Rakha let out a disgruntled sigh, walking back to where the orc had fallen, jabbing one of the sword into his chests. The orc let out another gasp of pain, and lay still. He bent down to wipe his blades off on the grass, picked up the package again, and headed off down the road to complete his delivery.
Background: Jo'Rakha was born in the dense jungles of Elsweyr. His mother and father ran a tavern in his local village so he spent lots of time doing chores, taking people's orders and other menial tasks. He quickly gained a sense of helping others. But like all Khajiit, he also gained a knack for quick fingers and keeping out of sight. When the chaos following Skyrim's civil war erupted, his village stayed neutral throughout most of the conflict, offering shelter to refugees from both sides. Because refuge was given to both sides, tensions soon rose in the village, and skirmishes broke out in the streets. Refugees from the Thalmor side soon gained an upper hand overthrowing both: the refugees from the Empire, and the village its self.
Thalmor soldiers entered the village shortly thereafter and killed most of the inhabitants, burning the settlement to the ground. Jo'Rakha, now roughly the age of 20, was seperated from his parents. After the soldiers marched from the village, he found his father dead in the remains of their inn. His mother was nowhere to be found. Stricken with grief, he left the ruins of the village, searching for shelter. He traveled across several provinces, including Cyrodiil, Skyrim, Morrowind and Blackmarsh, before finally reaching the eastern shore of Tamriel. There, he received word that those seeking recluse from the chaos in the continent, were heading in vast numbers to the continent of Akavir. Hoping his mother may have gone to Akavir seeking refuge, he boarded the first ship available and set off in search of her.
(Also I heard somewhere that Skooma kills. Remember kids just say no to mysterious substances given to you by strangers.)
IGN: Sparkcat2
Age: 17
Why us?: I have always liked the Elder Scrolls setting, and the server seems to be well thought out, and functional.
Have you voted for us at Planet Minecraft?: Not yet, no. I would like to see how the server is before deciding to vote for it.
Define Role-Playing in your words: Acting as another person, as if you were them. You decide what the character does, because “you are them.”
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Using outside information, such as a friend’s location or information lost due to death, in-character as if your character knew said information.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Not giving other players a chance to put their spin on a roleplay, such as saying you attack someone, rather than saying you attempt to attack someone.
IC:
Name: Arenar Aurrus
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Appearance: He wears a deep green cloak to blend in with the woods, as well as leather gloves and boots. His eyes are a deep green that mix well with his brown hair, and his clothing. He stands at 5’11”, and wears a black leather tunic on his chest, with simple black cloth pants held by a leather belt. Slung across his back is his recurve bow, always well-maintained and polished. His quiver is slung on his back as well, nearly always full. On his belt lie two sheaths, holding his steel sword and steel dagger.
Personality: One of those who generally keep to themselves, Arenar is a man of few words. When he speaks however, it is in a moderately deep voice which he uses to try and charm others into helping to achieve his goals. The goals he uses others for, however, are near-always good in nature, their intentions to help someone in some way, rather than to fulfill selfish wants. The goals in which he fulfills his own wants, he achieves on his own, so as to have no loose ends.
In-game RP Fight example:
Walking along the road one evening, Arenar heard up ahead along the path the howls of several wolves and in response, unslung his bow and nocked an arrow. Taking a few cautious steps forward along the path, he soon heard the sounds of a scuffle happening.
A high-pitched, scared voice screamed out, “Help! Help! Wolves!”
Hearing the call for help, Arenar sped up his pace and, turning the corner, immediately released his hold on the string to his bow, firing the arrow directly through the side of the head of a wolf which was leaping at the young man in the road, instantly killing it. Nocking another arrow as quickly as possible, he aimed and fired at the second wolf, coming straight towards him. Hitting it in the stomach, its leap got cut short and it landed with a small cloud of dust several feet in front of Arenar.
Seeing that he didn’t have time to nock another arrow to kill the wolf in time, he slung his bow and drew his combination of longsword and dagger, dashing at the wolf collapsed on the ground. He swung his sword towards the wolf’s front right leg, aiming to cut the tendon enough to temporarily disable the wolf until he had dealt with the last one of the group.
Succeeding in the slash, he bashed the wolf in the head with the pommel of his dagger, before leaping at the leader of the pack who had at that point pounced onto the chest of the young man, trying to tear into his chest. Essentially tackling the wolf, Arenar rolled with it a few feet away from the man and wrestled with it for several minutes, being bitten and clawed the whole time, before he was able to wrestle it into a position where he could stab his dagger into its throat. Standing slowly and painfully front the wolf’s corpse, he walked where the man lay bleeding.
“You alright, sir?” he asked with a hoarse voice, half-expecting the man to be dead.
The man grunted in response, unable to speak with his damaged chest, before falling unconscious. Seeing this, Arenar crouched beside the man and inspected the damage done by the alpha wolf. Seeing a large gouge in his chest, he began to slowly drag the man by his feet towards the nearby river by his feet, before taking a few bolts of cloth from his bag. After cleaning the wound with some water, he began to wrap the wound with the cloth, tying it off tightly. He then carried the man off to the side of the road and set him down, proceeding to set up a small campfire to rest by for the night.
Background:
Born in the Imperial City in Cyrodiil, Arenar grew up the son of a poor blacksmith, learning to smith weapons and armors, as well as miscellaneous objects. As he grew older and life grew harder due to living in a war-torn land, he took to the surrounding forests and learned to hunt, trap, and track in order to obtain meats to keep his family alive and pelts and furs as an extra way to try to make money. With this method, as well as his skill as a blacksmith, Arenar managed to pull his family out of the rut they were in and proceeded to live an average life.
One day while returning from one of his hunting trips, Arenar returned to his family’s shop in the city to find it had been raided and looted of nearly everything, leaving his family penniless. His father had stood his ground when their shop was attacked, but decided to give in and let them do as they wanted once they threatened to kill him, and showed their dominance by leaving a cut deep into his stomach. For the next few years, Arenar continued to help keep his family afloat with his trading of furs and his skill in blacksmithing, as well as helping his father to cope with the wound. After several years, however, he saw that they were in a slow but steady decline, and realized that merely continuing to do as he was would not be enough. After looking around and pondering for a few days, he overheard in one of the inns that there was a new land filled with riches and, deciding this to be his only option to keep his family alive, said his farewells and left the day after. He was determined to find something to help them, and promised to send back what he could to help his family.
Skooma kills.