-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): yogrox100
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
I have been roleplaying since July 2013, some server examples are: Haeriven, Uthrandir, Panlong, Hollow World, Alaurin, Trials of the World, Aethier and Horizon.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power gaming is essentially keeping your opponent from being able to cause your character harm, or keeping them from being able to react at all. Examples:
*The Orc's battle axe deflects off of my armor, what? It's not OP, I'm not powergaming, halflings just have strong armor!*
*I push you off the cliff.*
*I swing my sword at your leg. No, there's no way you could sidestep that even though we're in an open area, you have to take the hit, it's the rules.*
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Metagaming is taking knowledge gained out of character and applying it in character, example:
A: Yo, dude, Alzamar is kind of getting beat up in the tavern, I know Freya is out of town, but can she come back and help?
B: Yeah sure! She'll bring some bandages and healing potions too, you know, for no reason in particular.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: The act of playing a character for the purpose of watching their story unfold. Roleplaying is somewhat like acting without scripts (AKA improv)
----IC Info----
-Character name: Cora Pearl Arduenna
-Character race: Half-Elf (High Elf/Human)
-Character gender: Female
-Character age: 25
-Character Occupation: Cora does not have many occupational skills due to her wealthy upbringing, she didn't see the need to learn many crafts. However, she was an exotic dancer/courtesan for a good five years up to this point.
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.): Cora walks with her own brand of confidence and suavity with the purpose to show off her long legs and swaying hips. She stands at about 5'10", and for all intents and purposes, is a beautiful woman. With her morning beauty ritual, she is able to cover nearly any flaw on her face or body, she clearly takes pride in her own appearance, as it is her belief that nobody will find her attractive until she finds herself attractive. Her half-lidded amber-coloured eyes bear curling black lashes, her eyebrows are carefully plucked and her rouge carefully applied. Her dark hair is quite thick, and curls down just past her shoulders. She has a small variety of dresses that she was able to salvage, though her favourite is a low-cutting scarlet number, accessorized with a pair of pearl earrings and an onyx ring.
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.): Though Cora has physical beauty in abundance, this does not always transfer over to her personality. Though she is a charismatic woman and often tries to charm her way into the hearts (and pants) of others. Despite this, she is often more selfish than not, trying to manipulate others to meet her whims and her wishes. She's quite a greedy woman when it comes to money, and is also quite opinionated and occasionally abusive with her own beliefs/prejudices (classism, occasional racism). She's also quite the partier/alcoholic, and is prone to bouts of disassociation or depression due to trauma in her childhood.
In layman's terms: Looks hella, is actually a terrible person 90% of the time.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences): Cora Pearl was born into the wealthy family of the Arduennas after her father, merchant Silas Kyler Arduenna, had taken himself a human mistress despite the marriage to his elven wife, Seraphina. He had commanded that the family raise the child the human girl had birthed nonetheless, as she bore great resemblance to him, and he concluded that nobody would be able to tell that her ears were simply a bit more petite than usual.
Cora received minimal affection from her mother in her early years, but an abundance from her father, who would shower her with as many gifts as the little girl pleased. Any doubts from the rest of the family over her legitimacy as a true Arduenna were washed away after charming her way around the family, though her mother remained at war with herself: She could care deeply for the child she was raising, but love her? Never.
The years flew by, and when she was around ten years of age, her father decided that she should have a tutor to give her as good of an education as a child could have as he often could not be there to give her one himself. Though Cora did learn a lot from said teacher, there was always something about him that made her uneasy. He'd get too close, breathe down her neck, rub her shoulders in a way that felt a little too sweet and caring and sometimes she would wake up alone in the room with her stockings balled up in the corner on the other side of the room. She told no one about these incidents for fear of being shamed or hurt.
The man's misdoings were eventually found out by her mother, who had walked in on an event of her mistreatment. Though her tutor was promptly fired and publicly beaten for his crimes against the family, the young Cora found that she was often not herself, disconnecting from reality every now and then or wandering aimlessly. Though she was but a child, when she was to go out with her family or even a few of her friends, she could hear the whispers.
"That child seems naturally *****-ish, she likely seduced the man without intending to."
"What did that family think was going to happen if they put her in dresses above the ankles? Poor thing..."
"She's already beginning to take shape, she should have been more careful to avoid it, if you ask me"
Through her many years beyond that, she warred with herself over the incident, accepting their views and blaming herself over and over for what had occurred, more tutors were lined up for her, though all were notably female. She was eventually sent off to a private women's school by her father to learn trade and finance, around the area of said school was also where she met her first proper pet, a small alley cat that she did not bother to name, but took in with loving nature. She also began certain 'affairs' with a great deal of her fellow students, though a proper career didn't exactly come about until she was twenty.
On a specific night of drinking, she allowed a slightly older man to take her off to another drinking den, wooing her with cakes and plying her with alcohol, this did lead to certain 'intimacies' later on in the night. When Cora awoke, she was alone in a rather luxurious room at an expensive inn, with a small sack of gold lying next to her. After graduating from her school, she made the acquaintance of Laura Borelle, a human proprietor of a notorious pleasure establishment, The Argyll Rooms, a combination of bar, dance hall, and women for hire, it provided private alcoves and rooms where couples could retire for aforementioned 'intimacies', and she soon vacated her single room and moved into a suite at the pleasure house, becoming Borelle’s mistress.
Her career as an exotic dancer and mistress took off, attracting the attention of several aristocratic men and women, who became her frequent customers, all of which contributed to the opulent life that Cora demanded, often lavishing her with expensive jewellery, gold, and her most famous gift, a seaside cottage.
Though it was not without consequence, her family discovered what Cora had made of herself, and despite her fame and renown as a courtesan and exotic dancer, she was disowned in an attempt to save the family's reputation among those they traded with. This seemed to begin her downhill state of events. Her bouts of depression became more frequent, and she turned to drinking. During one such event of intoxication, she revealed to one of her elven clients her true race as an elaboration on the topic of her mothers distant nature. News of this quickly spread, and many of her clients dropped her and the pleasure house itself. After a time, Cora took her fortune to travel at sea, relying on her own fame to gain her a job in other lands, though it was not to be. The ship she was travelling on was raided, and her fortune all but taken from her (save for a few dresses, a smaller sack of gold, and her cat), leaving her without much means to pay for anything. She has, since then, been travelling to the closest city she can find, in an attempt to get a job and perhaps start her fortune once again...
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each):
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Cora had been in the midst of a purchase, a new bracelet to be exact, when a dirty young urchin bumped into her side. With a small yelp and disdainful look to the child, she gave a small scoff and went to continue with her purchase.
Though oddly enough, she felt an unfamiliar lightness on her left shoulder when she went to reach for her coin bag, and an unfamiliar sense of dread when she felt that it was not there. Her red lips parted to emit a distressed scream as she whipped around to see the urchin racing off with her purse. Pointing a finger in that direction, she shrilled to the crowd, "HELP! HELP! I'VE BEEN ROBBED! SOMEBODY STOP HIM!"
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Cora glances to the trapped wolf, feeling a twang of pity for the animal. Cats had always been her preference, but animals were all dumb, though she found it easier to maintain an emotional connection to pets over people. After all: Animals were not capable of reason or manipulation. Wolf skins had never exactly been something she'd enjoyed wearing, and leaving the mother there would certainly end in a quick death...
She sighed, taking cautious steps forward to grip the edges of the trap and tug them apart. The mother whined and yelped, limping quickly off with the rest of her cubs. Cora estimated that with a leg wound that deep, she would likely develop an infection. Perhaps it was only a small extension of life, but it could at least buy the cubs some more time.
Extra notes (Optional, could include theme songs, pictures, etc.):
Playlist:
Face Claim: Krysten Ritter
Voice:
Only fill out below if you want your character to have magic capabilities. If you don't fill this out, then your character will be incapable of performing any form of magic. Note that it will take significant in character practice and experience to become any form of proficient in magic. (We only accept high quality magic applications!) _______________________________________________________________________
-Magic Biography; Explain the reason you want your character to have magic through backstory application: (At least three extremely well-crafted paragraphs. You must describe to us why your character can use magic, what drives him to further his ability, how he learned that he could use magic, and what benefits magic brings to this character, what type of magic they’ll strive to use, etc. This is not a middle school paper! I will not accept applications that say “My character got my magic from x, and he wants to use it because it’ll help him! Also for RP!")
-Please give an example in your own words describing the limitations placed upon those who use magic (This should be at least one well-crafted paragraph):
-Please give a description of the magic system in your own words:
-You are given a weak trinket of <blank>, you haven't had much practice with magic yet, but you will try your best. Describe some things you could/would do with this trinket:
You start with one aspect only. You gain the rest of them (How ever many your race may have) of your own choice through further RP, however you will not be able to attain them immediately.
Thanks, I'll redo it once I get a bit of spare time. I did read the lore (though obviously not well enough) and I wasn't sure if the opposing magics would be an issue.
While she may have been from a wealthy familiar, It's incredibly unlikely that she would be nobility and a half elf as most would have her sent away or killed at that time, She may have though just came from a rich merchant family. Otherwise, everything about the application is wonderful. This should not be confused with Cora. She seems quite dastardly and may be in competition with another female character on the server for the most manipulative! Anyways, thank you for the application it was a great read.
While she may have been from a wealthy familiar, It's incredibly unlikely that she would be nobility and a half elf as most would have her sent away or killed at that time, She may have though just came from a rich merchant family. Otherwise, everything about the application is wonderful. This should not be confused with Cora. She seems quite dastardly and may be in competition with another female character on the server for the most manipulative! Anyways, thank you for the application it was a great read.
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): therandomkid321
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example? Yes I do, Over the past year I've played on four roleplay servers one for eight months. For an idea of how much time I spend on the servers I often find myself spending over half of my waking hours online... I... I have a life!
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is a way of forcing things to go a certain way in roleplay most often for the perpetrator's gain. This often includes making characters who are far too overpowered in one or many skills which often pushes the boundaries of realism. It's also commonly performed in roleplay fights in ways that make your character take no damage or forcing damage on the opponents character, another example would be a character who's been drugged showing no reaction to said drug.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Meta-Gaming is making your character know things they have no way of knowing in roleplay often used with information discovered OOCly in Skype. The effects of this can range from minor annoyance and immersion breaking to a whole scenario being somehow discovered by a character who had no part in it. The common place for meta-gamers to get their information is skype from information given to them by their friends OOCly.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Role-playing is a hobby or pastime where a person creates a character and plays through scenarios as them. This can take many forms such as roleplaying over forums, in games, certain boardgames, and even real life get togethers with other people interested in Role-Playing know was Role-Players.
It is also a good way to escape the crippling pain of everyday life...
----IC Info----
-Character name: Altis Joanne
-Character race: Dwelf
-Character gender: Male
-Character age:20
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Artist
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.): Altis Joanne is petite as Dwelves tend to be, he stands at a mere 3 feet of height and 33 pounds in weight, certainly what you'd consider a meager physique. His face is smooth, his race robbing him of any facial hair growth, with thin lips naturally curved into a soft smile. A thick layer of oily, poorly maintained hair drapes down theback of his head, the dark brown strands of hair curling in a wild and unpredictable fashion which often hangs over the top of his face which his wide, expressive green eyes poke through, his thin eyebrows often hidden by his hair.
From the right of his head his pointed ear protrudes from the jungle of hair, though his left ear sits hidden by the strands as it never developed properly, leaving him with an misgrown ear. A deformation which has had minor a effect on his hearing but a larger effect on his self esteem, he tends to keep it hidden by his hair for that reason. Overall he looks quite juvenile, he could be easily mistaken for a young child.
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.): If Altis was to be summed up in a singular word that word would either be "ambitious" or "abnormal". His personality is a obsessive one, often latching onto small concepts or ideas which consume his thoughts. When it comes to being social his behavior is certainly that of an outcast, this being fueled by his upbringing his social skills are near non existent which leads to people getting annoyed, angry, and even saddened by his words. Though this is not something he desires, he wishes for people to be happy and understanding, and despises conflict with a passion.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Altis Joanne, a ******* child raised by his dwarven mother Brenda in a small village a short distance from an Elven city, a place where, dure to his race, Altis would never find full comfort it. Though the village had a residency consisting of various races due to it's location it had a large number of High-Elves residing among the residents, High-Elves whom many would see Altis as impure and would judge him for nothing more than his race. This was the reason he was mostly kept hidden away during his younger years, living with his mother at the inn she owned.
Altis' first memory is one he holds dear to him, it doesn't include parental care nor does it include horrific violence. It's simply a memory of him in his crib when suddenly a cat jumped up into the room, it clambered into the cradle, rubbed against him, before turning and hopping back out. In the journals he has kept throughout his life he gives an insight into the obsession he has had with this simple memory.
"Why?" He wrote. "Why me? Why that action? Why did it leave so quickly? Perhaps it was startled by something I could not see, and that's why it ran. Or maybe it was in search of something and after observing me came to the conclusion I was not the source of whatever it was looking for. Perhaps it chose me, maybe I have some sort of natural connection with cats. Maybe none of those things."
Growing up Altis never had a proper education though he was taught to read and write by his mother to help around the inn. His mother kept him supplied with books, though none were of an educational purpose. He certainly had a desire to learn, almost as soon as he could talk he was hammering his mothers ear with questions about everything, he was often less than satisfied with the answers however. He took his education into his own hands. "I need no education." He writes. "Educated people learn only what they are told, things they then go on to teach. What if the educator is missing something? It won't ever get taught, it's just an endless cycle of misinformation. If there's something the educated people miss I, and others like myself, will be the ones who find it."
He never was good at conversation which did not help the already strong hatred towards him just because of his race. He was bullied for as long as he could remember, either by Elven kids who have been taught hate by their parents or just by kids who would rather not be seen as sympathizers towards poor Altis. He knew this was the reason, it was one of the few things he felt no need to question. This is referred to in his notes. "Cycles... everything's a cycle of one sort or another or at least has the potential to become one. I have become caught in a cycle, a cycle of hate for reasons above my own control. I envy those who ridicule me, to be able to accept what you've been told without even a hint of question. Their minds must be so peaceful."
The weight of the world would soon make Altis crumble if he did not have something to distract himself with. Thankfully he has just what he needed, and he had been doing it since before he could speak. Art. Something he had been gifted in. Art worked well as a getaway from him, as it took from his obsessive nature to observe anything and everything just like he drew everything and anything. He spent hours a day sketching whatever he felt like, often spending hours on simple details in each sketch.
Upon reaching the age of eight he began working in the inn, mostly spending his time away from patrons in the cellar or cleaning rooms. Though he never liked it. He quickly found out that the short time he would spend with his mother would be outweighed by how violent and angry alcohol can make people. He preferred his time in the wilderness, watching and observing in the comfort of solitude.
Altis' life generally though, was uneventful. He started realizing another fear dwelling within him, the fear of being forgotten. Since the age of fifteen this fear slowly haunted him until it was too much to bear. He brought it up with his mother and she agreed to let him travel. Altis fears what lies ahead, but he holds his hopes high that he will find, or create, a good life for himself.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each):
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Altis blinks, coming back from his thoughts as he realizes his predicament. A soft frown folds onto his face as he turns, looking for the culprit before catching eye of the child slipping into the crowd. He hesitantly follows him, breaking into a slow sprint as he made his way through the crowd. Eventually he found the culprit, seeing him using the money to buy a blanket. Altis frowned and looked over the boy again, quickly noticing by their clothing that they were poor, very poor. Altis reached into his satchel as he approached the boy, tapping him on the shoulder and handing him a peice of bread before walking off, feeling somewhat anxious about his choice.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Altis looked over the sight, paling slightly at the blood coming from the wolf's leg before quickly rushing over to it. He freed the mother and takes out bandages, using them to bandage her leg. He quickly set up camp and lit a fire to keep the wolves and himself warm. Suddenly he heard someone approaching, he immediately assumed it was the hunter. Unsure of what he'd say or do he ran away, hoping to avoid any confrontation.
Extra notes (Optional, could include theme songs, pictures, etc.): I finished this off quite late so I'll understand if there's anything wrong with it.
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): TheBioverse
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
Alongside two years of experience on MassiveCraft, one year of which I was a Moderator and continue to act as such. Aside from that, I’ve had 2-3 years of experience on other Minecraft RP servers.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: The act of performing an emote in conjunction to a reasonable situation by which a selective player(s) overpowers another player(s) from an out of character standpoint, i.e. instakilling or not allowing a reaction to take place.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: The act of using out of character information to influence in character decisions, typically to the advantage of the offender.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: The act of playing out the personality and role of a character that is not yourself.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Israh Amon Amirmoez
-Character race: Human
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 36
-Character Occupation: Israh is more freelance than anything else, resorting to anything between theft, conning and merchanting to scrape together enough coin to pay rent and feed his opium habits. Due to his many years of travelling, Irsha has picked up a number of trades - though regrettably, he has mastered none.
-Character description
Body Description
Israh holds a lean, chiseled build, standing at a towering 6’2”, and is around 175 lbs. He shows no physical disabilities, and his frame is lean and thinly muscled, due to his many years serving as both a soldier, explorer, and finally due to his generally active recreational lifestyle. Despite his mostly balanced strength, more of his ability lies in his legs; more accustomed to maneuvering on the battlefield, with his arms used to cast. His martial training however attends to his arms as well, allowing his body to flow almost like water even in the heat of battle.
Hailing from the sandy deserts, Israh’s skin tone is a far darker shade of brown when compared to most Humans. His skin is home to a number of scars received from battles and skirmishes past fought. However, most of his attention is paid to his body - adorned with ink patterns and Arabian scriptures. Obsessed with his physical impression on others, Israh keeps himself well groomed, with only a thin layer of white fuzz present on his arms, and chest.
Head Description
Israh’s face is fairly triangular in shape, ended only by a sharp chin. Sporting a prominent jawline, his cheeks and eyes are defined and prominent - clearly the result of a selectively bred Qadir bloodline.
Israh’s image is typically enigmatic, sporting anything between a light smile to a playful frown. His passive expression however is neutral and calculating; observant to a high degree. His golden eyes, often giving off a shimmering glow, only boost his menacing glare.
While Israh keeps his face cleanly shaven, with more space for his ink and tattoo, Israh’s hairstyle is greatly reminiscent to his early military short cut. Israh’s extended experience with the military has only further increased his preference towards short, parted hair - often even short shaved. Oddly enough, the few times Israh has attempted to grow his hair out, the static produced from his regular magic practice would only ruin the strands. Long hair is a fire hazard, and the countless battles fought against mages have taught Israh that much.
Israh wears a few rings on both hands, typically switching it up every odd day. He does not exceed over wearing three rings on each finger however, whilst sporting a pair of earrings on each ear, alongside a pair of golden studs. Finally, Israh sports a labret piercing underneath his bottom lip.
Clothing and Accessories
Israh sports a what would be known as a ‘Sherwani’ in Arabian Culture - a well embroidered, long flowing tunic reaching his knees, sewn from long lasting and equally foreign textiles with silky trousers to match. Atop all this however he garners a velvet sash, draped across his torso. Clearly the product of some substantial or stolen wealth, Israh makes a strong yet shady image for himself. Israh’s isn’t attached to any of his accessories apart from their typical value, and infact sports a number of jewellery items such as rings on both hands, a golden necklace coupled with its lean collar, following the Arabian fashion trends despite his new location.
-Character personality and traits
Israh’s attentive nature, born from both his extreme paranoia and numerous years served in the Qadiri Military has served him exceptionally well in the harsh and dangerous environment of the desert. However, it is further fuelled to extremely paranoid levels due to his shady business ethics.
Charismatic to a controlling degree, Israh’s talent of coercing others through sheer charm and word of mouth have only aided in propelling his career in Merchanting, blessing him with exceptional ability to manage his travelling Souq.
A trait born from many lax afternoons playing chess in the local town square, Israh discovered his analytical nature at the early age of ten, displaying keen interest in solving his problems with only the sleekest efficiency. Where once he utilised it best in board games and gambling matches - counting cards and chips, he now uses it to improve his business ventures and explorations.
With his cunning nature only being nurtured and fed by his Mother, it’s little surprise that Israh utilised it not only to bring fortune to himself through deceit and evasion, but went on to squash what prosperity others around him possessed - his rivals especially.
Raised to be deceitful and untrustworthy, accomplishing numerous feats through his unlawful tactics, Israh is without a doubt dishonest. Having succeeded for the majority of his life through illegitimate means, dishonesty is a common tool Israh employs in his day to day practices.
Amoral without reserve, Israh was born in such an environment. While Israh does acknowledge the concept of right and wrong, he perceives the two as both a limitation - one he can not afford to be tied down by. Viewing himself as ‘above’ the mundane Human, Israh does as he pleases without need or justification, should he feel like it.
Manipulative by habit, Israh takes joy in twisting the thoughts and emotions of his ‘puppets’ to serve his own needs and purposes - or simply for the necessity of entertainment to himself. While he is prone to manipulating Souq customers and even allies, even his own family is not exempt from his puppetry. Israh’s control over others, his family especially, is firstmost psychological. If pushed however, the Arabian nomad is all too eager to enforce physical punishment.
Envious due to his heritage of ‘eat or be eaten’, Israh is compelled to ruin or take for himself what good fortune others hold dearly to themselves, unnaturally driven towards it, despite his success. The thought of those below his stature and power retaining otherwise wholly prosperous lives is sickening to him, often leading him to wreaking any kind of havoc to lower their stature. Nobility are typically the first targets of his seething envy.
-Character biography:
Amidst the confines of a luxury barge, surrounded by only her closest of devotees and followers, Israh was born on a day like any other - hot and humid, with only the circlet of nearby medics to ease the burden of birth on his mother, Reisa. Granted, she’d had many children up to now. There was little she was left unfamiliar with. Israh’s father, a Merchant Baron by the name of Hasad Amirmoez would pay the price of his son, to settle the debt of influence that rose him to the prestige he languished at now - a price easily paid for a man with numerous wives and consorts. As such, Israh was raised solely by Reisa - moulded by her control, into a tool for her own pillaging and securing power.
A cruel, lonely childhood was the only childhood Israh knew. Isolated from other children and coerced on a day to day basis, Reisa made sure to bleed her son dry of any humanity he held for those around him. His resentment only grew over the years, and the only salvation he saw was his Mother - his idol and Goddess. She was all he knew, and that’s exactly how she wanted it. Tearing Israh away from his humanity was simple enough - there wasn’t much to purge to begin with. And at the ripe old age of ten, Israh had killed his first man at his Mother’s command. The grip of a leather bound dagger was the only toy he had, after all. Killing a man was just how things worked. Naturally, Reisa always had complaints. Every. time.
At the age of twelve however she’d decided to have Israh and a number of other young children tutored in the heavily violent art of dagger combat alongside even hired Orcs - aiming to produce deadly warriors to send against the various Merchant Barons encroaching on her territory. Due to the lethality of the art however, many of the students perished. By the end of the first year, only a handful remained standing; Israh included. Being Reisa’s son, Israh found ease in neglecting his morality, easily surpassing those students who fought by his side.
Granted, with each year passed, Reisa’s grip on Israh only loosened further and further. However, she was no stranger to Israh’s apathy, having sired many children of his nature before him. She lulled him with her wiles, cooing him with tales which captivated and motivated him - tales of power, destruction, carnage and domination. As Israh learnt more and more about the sheer potential behind combat, he couldn’t help but grow overjoyed when pitted against Reisa’s enemies - activities he once saw as chores to complete became activities to prove his strength and ability. All too eager to follow in the Cult’s footsteps, Israh even practiced the ways of alchemy, poisoning and explosives, as was common to the cult’s practices. He wished to please Reisa, his mother - the only role model he’d ever known. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
Israh soon realised that he was simply one in a dozen; a tool to be disposed of when exhausted. It was too much for the young Israh, slowly being driven mad by his developed power. He swore to carve out his own destiny, duping the his mother in the process. Years passed, battles were fought and won, with only the stench of charred meat and bone left as reminder. By the young age of only twenty nine, the talented Arabian had mastered his blade in its entirety. By this point, Israh had begun to invest his time in more alchemical activities, dabbling in the ways of poison making and other elixirs to better serve him in battle.
Soon after this, he escaped the clutches of his Mother, instead seeking out his father - curious as to the nature of the man who’d taken part in creating him. In all earnest, Israh was disappointed by the bulbous mass of flesh and gluttony his father was, quickly claiming the opportunity to extort the man out of his attained wealth. Having approached his father a feared soldier and war hero, Israh promised comfort and peace; should his father hand him what was rightfully his - the entirety of the Amirmoez Family and Syndicate. Israh was intent on writing his own fate, no longer eager to serve as a pawn in his Mother’s schemes. A heated exchange followed, ending with Israh usurping his place as the Patriarch of the Amirmoez Family.
Taking numerous years to travel the world, learning more of people and places, not to mention animals of all kinds, Israh finally returned to his Mother. While he hadn’t expected much of a response, save for punishment, it was an unexpected surprise to receive praise from his Mother - even in his forties, he was a child at heart. It was then that Reisa instructed him on his next assignment - to charge blindly into the latest battle, most certain to cost Israh his life. Outraged, Israh set out into the world once more - with little more than a healthy horse, a leather pouch of food and water, and a sum of coin enough to carry him to new lands, leaving his Mother’s Merchanting Empire in the dust. These days Israh wanders as a lavish, enigmatic and otherwise silver-tongued rogue, living life as it presents itself. Having lived according to a plan, creed and rules all his life, Israh now acts as a man of his own right, doing as he pleases in any new land he encounters, still eager to discover more and more of what the Realm of Saphriel may offer.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios:
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Israh’s day was a typical one - spent smoking opium and chatting up women. He’d hardly even noticed the crowd forming about him, though the experienced rogue did catch the jingling of his coin purse as a scruffy child bolted into the crowd - with Israh’s otherwise tranquil day turning to one of displeasure. Cursing his luck, the rogue chased behind the ever eager street urchin through the shadows, vaulting over crates, barrels and around various people. And yet, give the opportunities to do so, Israh never caught the boy - instead allowing him to lead the rat to its nest. Arriving into the shadier part of town, Israh drew his dagger, following the unwitting child into his hovel. Waiting for nightfall, the arabian rogue heard the chorus of cheering, excited children, alongside chatter of amassed gold and possible food for all in their infested nest! Israh simply grinned to himself, slipping into the den. Though he did lose the sharpness of his dagger to that of tender flesh, bone and blood, he did leave five times wealthier than when the day had begun - and, an urchin’s hat! Granted, it was a little bloodied, but Israh wore it with pride. ~
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
There was no moral dilemma - the wolf would soon die regardless, and despite all other contributing factors, Israh would return a hero for slaying the wolf, all the more richer for selling its hide. Drawing his dagger and drawing a leather pouch, that’s exactly what he did. The pups resisted at first, scared and confused within the burlap sack as eventually awoke from their individual concussions. Israh pawned them off to an ever eager client within the local Black Market, earning far more than he expected for the runts that would no doubt soon perish without their Mother. The pelt and Wolf’s head however was another case entirely. Strutting the decapitated Wolf’s head on his belt, Israh was rejoiced as a hero of a village, having bravely sought out this tyrannous wolf and ended it despite the grave cost to his life! Or, so he claimed. The pelt sold exceptionally well, after much haggling with the local disgruntled Hunter, with Israh squeezing a great deal more for the authentic Wolf’s head. Riding off on his Horse, Israh left the small, woodland side village a far richer man than he’d expected. Life was easier when one didn’t conform to the chains of morality and consequences.
Thank you for your application! It was a fun read with a wonderful character.
We just want to make sure that sixteen is the age you would like your character to be. Since he is a Dwelf he would be reaching Sexual maturity in his early twenties and adulthood at about thirty-five
Thank you for your interest in Saphriel. This was an excellent application that was very enjoyable to read! We are looking forward to seeing Israh in-game.
Thank you for your application! It was a fun read with a wonderful character.
We just want to make sure that sixteen is the age you would like your character to be. Since he is a Dwelf he would be reaching Sexual maturity in his early twenties and adulthood at about thirty-five
Thank you for letting me know of this, I'm still uncertain exactly of the ageing but I guess I'll change his age to twenty. Assuming that should be around puberty age?
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): devilynn4
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
Yes, I have played on many other servers, such as Erecia or Asmalur. Most of these servers were shut down, sady. I have also roleplayed on other platforms; forums, and such.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words:
Power-gaming is to do something that your character would not realistically be able to do IC. It could also be taking control of another player’s actions.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words:
Meta-gaming is to take information you have learned OOC and to use it to your benefit IC.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words:
Role-playing is to act out the personality and actions of a character that has been created by you.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Everia Faelyn
-Character race: Half-Elf
-Character gender: Female
-Character age: 22
-Character Occupation:
Everia has been studying as a healer from an early age, due to her mother.
-Character description:
Everia stands at a height of 6’3, shorter than most High-Elves due to her human blood. Her skin has olive undertones, much like her father’s. Her eyes are set deep under her strong brow bone, dark brown flecks married to lighter hues, accented by the dark circles below. Long, brown lashes frame her almond-shaped eyes. Her cheekbones are set high in her face, and her jawline sharp. Tendrils of soft brown hair falls down her back, tied with a piece of string. A band keeps her hair from falling into her eyes. Her small, pointed ears poke up out of her hair, accessorized with small gold rings. Her petite pink lips form many different expressions, from a playful smirk, to a frustrated scowl. A rounded, button nose sits above her mouth.
She has a lean build, with well-rounded curves. She’s agile, with long, muscled legs. Her movements are smooth, seeming to look as though every move is thought out. She wears a forest green robe, tied together with a leather belt. Beneath her robe, she wears brown shorts. On her sizable feet, she wears comfortable leather shoes that slip on and off with ease. On her hip, she sports a small pouch, used to carry coins and other small trinkets.
-Character personality and traits:
Everia is a bright young girl, curious about how the world works. She can be stubborn, strong-headed, and easily agitated - though is a sweet person, if you stay on her good side. Often times, she’s compulsive and makes decisions without thinking. Impatient, she becomes quickly annoyed.At times, Everia is proned to bouts of depression,
-Character biography:
A modest tavern sitting on the side of the street was lit up, light pouring out of its windows. Inside, the atmosphere was happy and thunderous. Men and women were laughing and chattering with one another. Sitting along the bar, a young Elven woman exchanges smalls smiles and jokes with a dark haired man. Getting up, they make their way out of tavern, their drunken laughter echoing. The next morning, the Elf woke, rolling over in bed to find the other side empty.
Myrrh was always shameful of Everia, almost humiliated by her daughter. Though she cared for Everia, she never seemed to love her. After giving birth to a half human daughter, she was disowned by her Elven family, and treated like a lowlife by many other High-Elves.
Everia grew up with her mother in a small cottage. Inside, there was a room separate from the rest of the house, where Everia’s mother worked as a healer. By the time Everia turned 7, she was Myrrh’s apprentice, tending to wounds. She watched her mother use skill and magic to heal sick and wounded, deciding to become a healer also. When she was not helping her mother, she was outside.
Everia was a curious, adventurous child. Due to her affinity for nature, she often times wound up in the forest outside of the city. She and the other children would climb the trees and race each other, zig-zagging through the branches. Her best friend was a Half-Elf named Arun. Arun and her were always together, often times staying at each other’s homes. Many thought that they would become romantically involved as they grew older, but they stayed only close friends.
Reaching the age of 16, Everia realized exactly what High-Elves thought of Half-Elves. She was treated lowly by many of the Elves who lived in the city. She assumed that the High-Elves were better than her, though tried to ignore it.
She moved out of her mother’s cottage when she turned 18, losing all contact with her. She moved into Arun’s home, and continued down the path of healing. She’s curious about Saphriel, and eager to discover everything she can.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios:
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Everia pushes through the crowds, making her way towards the inn she was currently residing at. She sighs, her aching feet pushing her to get home. As she reaches the markets’ exit, she feels a small hand snatch her coin pouch. She whirls around and spots the small child. She immediately takes off after the child, her long legs allowing her to quickly catch up to the street rat. “Hey! You there, boy!” She catches his wrist tightly, taking her coin pouch back before releasing him. “It’s not polite to take what does not belong to you.” Her upper lip curls, aggravated at the inconvenience of having to chase after the boy. She watches the child scurry away as she returns the pouch to it’s rightful place at her hip.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Her eyes take in the pitiful sight of the injured mother and it’s cubs. She quickly leaned down to examine the wolf’s leg, whispering nurturing words to the creature. She pried the trap apart, taking a good bit of her strength. She stood up as the wolf began to lick it’s own wound before stumbling off with it’s young. She knew that there was a high probability that the wound would not heal, but she hoped that the cubs would be able to manage without their mother by then.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
3/22/2013
Posts:
273
Minecraft:
Cyshadichu
Discord:
Cyshadichu#7108
PMC:
Cyshadichu
Member Details
(( Oh boy this application is excessive, and whoever is reviewing this has quite a few other applications to review too. Because of such, you can review this application last.
(( It was probably not a good idea for me to stay up all night editing this together. It's long and excessive, vague in some parts too. I would be more than willing to revise this if needed be, or even remove some parts just to shorten the "work load."
----OOC Info----
Minecraft IGN: Cyshadichu
Skype name(Optional, for server OOC chat): cyshadichu (pretty much the same name for everything)
Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?: You can say my whole life has centered around roleplay. I’ve rp’d on forums, several Minecraft servers (featuring Asmalur and Alvaeron, the most prominent ones), D&D, LARP, Skype, text message, and various other mediums. Minecraft, however, has been the most enjoyable platform for roleplaying by far.
Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming refers to giving oneself an unfair advantage without logical or considerate means. Examples of this include: controlling another character’s reaction, bending the rules and limitations in one’s favor, not giving an opponent an opportunity to react, and overpowering your character without roleplay reason or development.
Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Meta-gaming refers to taking information out of character and applying it in character; essentially, it’s granting knowledge to one’s own character that they should not have any logical reason to know. Example include: taking info off of character profiles, taking research off the internet and instantly knowing the information [rather than taking time to have your character emote their pursuit of knowledge], and alerting friends/people OOCly to find/save you from a situation.
Define Role-Playing in your own words: Roleplaying, RP as it is commonly abbreviated, is the act of assuming a role/character with a fictional world. Nearly all video games incorporate a form of roleplaying by placing players in the perspective of a predetermined character or personalized avatar. Roleplay often brings creative minds together to write and worldbuild in tangent in order to create a story, and better yet, an experience.
----IC Info----
Character name: “Keletheryl” (real name is Gregory Black)
Character race: Human
Character gender: Male
Character age: 11, child
Character occupation: Technically N/A, as he is still a child and not employed in any set occupation. He has, however, been introduced to the basic training that comes with apprenticeship as a pageboy that would later lead on to being squire, but his experience has only thus far reached the early stages of servanthood and light sparring. Although being a child, Keletheryl still displays skill in managing survival on his own and would have generally taken to small, menial tasks and favors with little pay just to persist living. His behavior can be found quite entertaining (or pitiful) at times, allowing him to thrive off the occasional good nature in people.
Character description:
Standing at 4’11” and equipped with a youthful audacity within his blue eyes, Keletheryl normally appears as a naïve and energetic child. Despite his efforts to maintain good hygiene, his unkempt brown hair and loose clothing imply that Keletheryl is not an entirely tidy individual. His clothing and aged, grey boots all seem too many sizes too big for him, allowing for more growth as he ages. He seems to sport a childish habit to play pretend, with his mannerisms supported with a “costume”, which consist of a black blanket with golden colored stripes worn much like a cloak—Cape of Destiny, as he calls it—and a white, flat leather mask that lacks facial features; a rather eerie feature of this mask are the reddish-brown stains that stream down from the eye sockets, a dark contrast to the stark white of the plain design.
His slender and underdeveloped build clearly present his young age—the thin and slightly boney stature with extremely pale skin implying malnourishment. While lacking in muscle mass, Keletheryl manages his survival with decent strength fueled by optimistic determination. In most situations, he favors agility over brute strength and is well accustomed to dashing around in spurts of energy. Even though his attire often hinders his mobility, Keletheryl insists on wearing his “costume”. To logically hold all his belongings, Keletheryl possesses a sturdy, brown pack—common equipment for an adventuring spirit.
Character personality and traits:
If there were to be one word to describe Keletheryl, that word would be c̶h̶u̶u̶n̶i̶b̶y̶o̶u̶ “quirky”. His manner of going about things is often immature and exceedingly hyper. One of the most prominent aspects of his personality, that of which being his excessive imagination, leads him to believe what is arguably a delusional perception of the world and himself. Often does he address people and mundane objects by made up titles and mixed in phrases from other languages in an attempt to drag them down into such delusions. Though habitually making claims of demon spores and possessing the powers of a supposed “fallen angel”, Keletheryl appears pretty harmless and rarely engages in combat. While mostly seen as childish and delusional, Keletheryl infrequently passes a hint that suggests that he knows a lot more than what he originally lets on. One may consider that his fantasy may be a mere game of “pretend” to cope with fear and a constantly over-paranoid state of mind. Upon being seriously questioned about the severity of his delusions, Keletheryl would insist that the images, thoughts, and senses that haunt him and cause him to sputter out nonsensical ramblings are all just the work of an overactive, youthful mind.
As far as Keletheryl’s intelligence goes is highly up to debate. His experience of the world seems quite limited without an adult understanding of life, and his perspective can be easily swayed, especially by those who play along with his games. However, few instances show that Keletheryl has a deep love for literature. Books, poetry, plays, short tales, studying, acting… name it all and most likely Keletheryl will have a heyday. With his vocabulary actually being quite extensive, if not a little pretentious, it doesn’t strike as much of a shocker. He’ll often incorporate uncommon phrases and terms into his unique vocabulary, whether or not it actually makes any sense. Sometimes he would jumble up his words and create obscure slurs to accompany his unconventional and dramatic manner of speaking (thee, thou, thy, hath, etc.).
Typically, Keletheryl would speak out with a loud and dramatic projection. Yet, in spite of his bold façade, the boy still possesses shy and slightly introverted characteristics. Every so often he won’t be the first to speak, preferring to stick in the background and watch the world move on without him. Sometimes he’ll stand outside someone’s window or even trespass upon property just to amuse his curiosity and interest in “the mortal realm”, showing the more questionable side of his sense of morality that defines him. When he knows he can do nothing to stop a fight or other sort of conflict, he’ll find himself just watching rather than helping. Surviving often does not allow one to be completely selfless and morally upright, resulting in Keletheryl’s resort to petty thievery if his life depended on it. While he’ll mostly only pursue food, the boy is no stranger to taking random, interesting (at least, in his perspective they are significant) objects should the opportunity present itself. In spite of his manners and sporadic cruelty, Keletheryl attempts to overall present himself as a “good” person.
Character biography: (( The first part is written more clearly and is meant to describe the actions of the family, while the second and third halves are written to be more quick and vague within Keletheryl’s persepctive. Otherwise, this will take foreverrrrr to readdd if I made it too long… If you prefer that I remain consistent and write the biography in a specific way (straight chronological, story, the creepy second person style, etc), do say and I’ll change it))
Part 1
You shouldn’t have come.
Winter, a few years before the war between the Pact and the Alliance came to its end… The child had been born to the noble family of Black, which had come down to its last, very few members over the course of time. Those early years, the child was welcomed into a world that would soon be set upon recovery once the war had met its conclusion. Garrett Black, the father, had served with the Alliance as a knight before a crippling injury to his left leg dismissed him to return home to his dear wife Madeline. In the years before Garrett’s return to the household, Madeline had been cared for by the servants of House Black, due to being affected by a peculiar condition earlier on in her life. Often would she speak to walls and portraits, with claims that she heard the voices of heaven and hell in her walks within the gardens. Rumor had spread back then that her mother, an illusionist mage, had cursed her daughter into such a state by overexerting her magical proficiency during pregnancy. Her weak body gave out and withered away at Madeline’s birth, leaving Madeline with her only surviving family member, her aunt Gertrude, to raise her. Despite her condition and the judgement she faced against those that believed her to be crazy, Madeline managed a relatively normal life, having become a nurse for wounded soldiers during the long and bloody war. It was in a nursing tent that she had met her husband, whom showed unconditional love towards her and accepted the oddities within her behavior. They had married in the summer and one day decided to pass on the Black family legacy before Garrett left once more to aid the war effort.
While the family did indeed feel blessed to birth a seemingly healthy child, Madeline’s condition only worsened as she aged. It initially started as a forgetful neglect of her baby before progressing into a deep depression. Concerned for his wife, Garrett employed a nurse maid to take care of the infant while he, himself, endorsed all his time towards improving Madeline’s mental state. Slowly, her behavior had begun its shift. Garrett and the servants thought the only logical reason for her degrading state was that she had felt affected by the war, which had nearly ended and gone into the next phase of demons by the time Madeline’s condition came to its culmination. She had come to obsess over small discrepancies in life, such as a discolored rose or a crooked painting.
She doesn’t need you.
The worse of her condition led her to believe that her own child was the spawn of a demon. The delusion came suddenly on a spring’s night, when Madeline had asked to see her child. She was smiling for the first time in months, her hollow face filling with color on that day. That whole day, she loved her child. She cradled him, sang, and told her stories of her own mother, showing the child the hand mirror her mother had left for her. Nobody knew what caused Madeline to turn that miracle of a day into a nightmarish memory. Before the sun began to sink down into the hills, Madeline’s screams echoed throughout the household. Garrett limped to the nursery, nearly dropping his cane in his hurry, to find Madeline’s hands around their son’s neck. She shrieked, thrashed, and cried while her son was on the verge of dying by her own hands. The crippled man managed to separate Madeline from their child with the help of the nurse. As soon as his wife was brought back to the master bedroom, Garrett moved back towards the nursery to check on his son. On his way, he came across a shattered hand mirror, which had been thrown out into the hallway. Garrett immediately recognized it—the mirror from Madeline’s mother—and leaned down to pick it up and return it to his wife, forgetting about his young boy within that moment.
You don’t need them.
The nurse read a book to the gasping child in bed on that night, sharing the story of an eccentric adventurer named Keletheryl. The story was written in a mix of common and—oh dear. At one point, the child started to cry, prompting the nurse to give them a soothing hug.
“What’s wrong, mon enfant?” she asked calmly, hand delicately moving to straighten the pillow for the poor kid’s neck.
You said you weren’t happy.
“Do not fret about that, mon enfant… Just.. be someone’s who’s happy, yes? Don’t worry anymore, little Gregory… Your mother.. she… she just has an interesting condition. She still loves you, mon enfant… She loves you very much.”
With the opening of the portals that unleashed the demons upon the realm of Saphriel, Garrett had begun to worry about how his boy would train under a knight’s apprenticeship, since he had been disabled and thus unable to carry about teachings and demonstrations for his own son. With Madeline’s condition, his schedule was far too busy to ever have time for the child. Still wanting the best for his son, Garrett sent a letter to a former acquaintance of his, asking if they would take on the child for an apprenticeship as a servant and later a squire. With his old friend’s agreement, it was decided that the child would leave home and live in Sir Lysanthur’s keep for his training at the age of seven. The years seemed too few to count by then, but Garrett worried more for his wife than he did for the child….
Part 2
Have you ever wanted escape? The kind of escape from reality and into a fantasy, a world with only you and everything that your mind creates…
“Aren’t you excited, G̼̻̗̮̭̗̎̎̌̓ͪý̝̮̦̯̼͔̘͎͑̓̅̒̈́͘͞r̡̯ͫ̒͗̃ͤͥe̴̢̫̱̝̹͔̳̺̖̋̔ͥo̴̰̟̹̺̩ͮ̏ͪͧ̋͒ͬ͟g̢͈̝̟̯̠̎ͭ̔̆̊̀̕r̴̭͍ͯͫ̓̽̽͐̂͟?My little boy is growing up too fast already! You’re going to be a noble knight one of these days!”
Put down that book, give the nurse a joyful grin. Leap from your seat and give her a big hug!
“I’ll miss youuuu!”
Yet, if you lose a grasp on real life in this fabricated world, you might never return. It can’t be that bad, right? It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.
Pace down those large, empty halls. Let your imagination dance.
The Black Knight of Nights threw his torn hood over his head as he continued down the corridor. His mind clouded with thoughts of the recent battle, where blood and limps flew through the savage air. The Angels of Light would soon fall to the hands of Darkness, but now was no time to celebrate. They would not admit defeat that easily…
“For what reasoning must thou leave this place, when the Darkness must rest their wounds!”
“Where are you going, it’s almost bed time for you!”
“The images of war plague thine own mind, Serpent Servant. I must stroll about the lands, least my strength will always be held.”
“I’m just going to walk aroooounnnnd, pleaaaaaase? I can’t sleeeeep…!”
“Understood, Knight of Nights.”
“Very well, young master G͆̋ͪͨ͆̅̈̔ͤ҉̹̦̼̮̮̭y̪̳̜͓ͯ͒͗͟r̽͆ͯ̐ͤͨ҉̺̥̹̺̹͉͇̕ͅr̸̢̲͈͎͖̯̖͇̜ͦͥͨ͋ͨͩ͋̚̚͞ḛ̗̞ͫ͐͂͗̋̓͢g̢̫̮̀̏ͪ̌͊̒̅ͪ͒o͇ͧ̓̽̿͛.”
The demon flew through the night skies, taking in the chilling air. This world… Soon it would be engulfed in pitch black, and all shall know it was brought about by the power of the Dark. The Black Knight of Nights focused his attention upon the Lake of Resting Spirits and descended quickly to the ground. He stood by the edge of the waters and stared down his reflection. Looking up, he saw the moon and all the stars above.
Imagine a world in complete darkness… A world without the Light… A grin would come upon the dark angel’s face.
“Such beauty in the everlasting night…”
Suddenly, a noise. Bushes rattling, sticks breaking. Turn around and there…
…stood the enemy, an Angel of Light. She smiled at him so calmly and held up her Holy Lamp. Her feathered wings outstretched and surrounded him with blinding light that matched the powerful light from her lamp. The angel’s thin, pale lips opened, and her heavenly voice began to speak…
“H-hi…”
The two of you meet eyes as a silence overcomes you, your faces illuminated by the light of her glass lantern. You recognize her, somewhat, the girl a little older than you from that household your family keeps scowling at. Already you know that your families absolutely hate each other, butting heads constantly as rivals.
But looking at her…
The one you’re supposed to hate…
You’re one in the same.
Light vs. Dark.
Black against White.
And to her, you say, “Hi…”
You like to play with her often.
The Black Knight of Nights and the Chosen One often flew together by the Lake of Spirits. They told their tales of war and shared their spoils amongst each other.
Sometimes she plays the same game.
The angels clashed their blades, evenly matched against each other. The Sword of Cursed Wood and the Sword of Holy Bark. Sparks and spirals of Light and Dark dance around the two in the heat of their intense sparring.
Meeting together in the moonlight. It would be so romantic and cute if you weren’t just a kid stuck in a fantasy. You don’t think anything of it, but you know you like her as your bestest friend!
Why must your families be so torn…?
You don’t ever want to say goodbye to your only friend. You know you’ll have to one of these days, when you have continue on your own path.
Saying goodbye is the hardest…
You need to find a way to stay.
“Keletheryl’s strength hath diminished after this last battle.”
“Aww, poor boy… You just rest tonight, okay? Feel better soon. Remember, you’re going to have to be well and fit if you’re going to be a knight one day! Ohh, I wish you didn’t have to go this week… Might have to stay here for a little while… And you were so excited about it too!”
And then you sneak out.
Just a few more nights.
But one night, you’re caught.
You tell him what you’ve been doing. It’s the only thing you can do.
“Keletheryl, the traitor?! Dancing in the moonlight with an Angel of Light!”
“Nooo, she’s my frienddd!”
“The Darkness dost not associate such relations with the Light! I shall inform the Higher Demons of this! The Black Knight of Nights hath been sneaking out of this Dark Palace, sharing such secrets with the enemy!”
No, they’re going to find out.
The Black Knight of Nights grew cold. Before the older demon could spread out his wings and take off from the cliff…
…your hands push out in front of you.
Down the cliff.
Tumbling down those steps.
Reach the sharp rocks below.
What a horrible crack.
Nobody knows. Nobody. He just fell. He was old.
“Chosen One! I hath decided to fight with you, for the sake of the Light!”
“You need to go back home, y͇̤ͨ̽̀̔͝o̡̪̟̯̼͔̬ͭ͐̇̊ͬ̔̚͘r͔͔͚̠̣ͩͭ͑ͧ̈͂̓̄̊͜r̶̮̞̗̫̩͖ͣ̓ͤͫ̓̋̒͢G̷̴̛̦͚͊̒̆̌ͩg̴̫͇̺̠͌͊͆̚e͇̝̞͎̼̖̦ͭ̍̂́…”
“I do not wish to be one with the Darkness anymore… I wish to be with you!”
“Our families hate each other! Don’t you get it?! We were never supposed to be friends…”
“I-I hath already fought against the Dark. Keletheryl is…a traitor…”
“Thou must go, Black Knight of Nights. Thy can never be one with the Light, nor shall thy live with the Dark once more. Thou must go…”
“I didn’t mean to…”
“The Dark will never forgive thee. Leave, never return. Never let me see thy face again, demon.”
“I’m sorry…”
She gives you her lantern. “That’s enough of this stupid game… Just…grow up…”
They still never found out what you did.
Now you have to leave home. Be a good little boy. Then you’ll be a knight one day.
The Black Knight of Nights was cast out from the Dark in the days that proceeded. The Chosen One sealed away his soul into the Lamp.
That was the end of the Black Knight of Nights.
Grow up, little boy. It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.
Part 3
You can’t keep hiding.
You can’t keep crying.
You can’t keep denying.
You know what you did.
You demon.
Grow up little boy. Grow up! You have many things to do. Do it for the Keeper! Do it to become a knight!
First minute and you’re too quiet. You put on a smile that hides the horrors within.
But when you’re alone you cry.
Second hour and you’re almost all settled in. He tells you what to do, what to wear, and how to behave with all the others doing the same.
But your nightmares cause you to wet the bed.
Third day and you've been scolded. You don’t tell them all why you’re so scared of the stairs.
But you know just exactly why.
Stare down at your hands. Are they covered in blood? They should be, just to show everybody what you did. Guilty… Guilty…! GUILTY!
Why can’t they see that your guilt is eating you? Never forget that crack. Never forget that image.
“Shut up, r̴̛̩̘̜̙̿̑ͫͥ̾͒͒̂ͥ͟g͚̥̹̟̳̜͓̍̓ͨe̢͚͕̤͓̳ͯ̔̎̍̒͊̚y̴̹̥͔̼͉ͭ̎̀ͭ̿͊̀̚ỏ̶̭̀ŗ̧̺̖͙̭̼̮͕̋ͥG̶̏̀ͯͫ̓̂͏̯̜͈, just shut up!”
You’re so annoying that they even try to shove you into a separate room.
Wake up on your bed. Sheets are wet. Eyes are red.
Were you screaming? Did he hear you again?
It’s dark in this room… Let the Light shine..! Take the lantern from the side and let the flames ignite. Hug the Light, cling close, admire how bright…
And fade into memory…
“Keletheryl and Arkaith! The Black Knight of Nights and the Chosen One! An alliance only the Stars hath fabled!”
The Chosen One allowed for an amused smile to form across her face as she watched the Black Knight of Nights cry out to the dark skies above.
“Oh, Black Knight of Nights, must thou speaketh so loudly? I still hath the need to restore my strength after such a battle…”
The demon turned to the angel, his face peeling back to reveal a sharp row of teeth. “Keletheryl can take this vulnerability as a chance to strike and finally extinguish the Light!”
She merely chuckled in response. “Keletheryl is too much of a coward to commit such an act against whom that he considers his acquaintance.”
“N-Nay, the Black Knight of Nights is brave!”
“Heehee… Prove it!”
The Black Knight of Nights’s wings outstretched as he leapt from his position. “I shall prove such bravery with—“
Loud thumping on your door. No, no, he heard you again… Please don’t—
The Keeper bursts through the room, a bottle in his hand. You cling tight to that lantern as his arm swings up high.
Good night.
A month and you’re still haunted by your past sins. But you learn to try and hide it. You need to, otherwise they’ll all laugh at you. And then the Keeper will be mad at you. And then your head will hurt again.
Did you wash the clothes yet? Good boy!
Did you help with dinner? Don’t forget your other chores!
Did you practice sword-fighting with the others? You’ll be a true knight one day!
Did you finally stop being a crybaby? No, didn’t think so. Point and laugh at the baby. Now stop crying. Stop crying. Please stop crying now or he’ll—
Alone again. Calm down, soothe your headache. Does it still hurt? Not as much? Good. Pick up your book, let out a sigh, before losing yourself in another world…
The hero turned his body towards the large beast, eyes wide and mouth gapped as the creature let out a terrifying shriek. Its hooved feet scraped against the stone floors in its wild dash towards the man. With his body filled with adrenalin, the hero raised his sword and stood his ground. He searched for any place to swing his sword and end the beast’s rampage once and for all. It all became clear to him as his eyes studied the rippling flesh of the creature’s neck, noting how such an injury would cause the beast to bleed and writ—
Alas, your fantasies are spoiled again. They yank that book out of your hands and tear up the pages in front of you. They just want to see you cry again.
And of course, you do. Silent tears fall on your guilty hands.
You stare at that rat running around the kitchen. It’s your turn to catch it and put it back outside. Set the trap again. Balance a plank over the edge of the table, a piece of cheese at one end, and a bucket underneath it all to catch the rat when it falls! Now to wait a bit. Wait a bit more. Maybe a little bit more… Any day now!
Finally the rat fell for the trap. Looking down into that bucket, you see how vulnerable it is. So much trouble from this small beast.
Then your mind trails back to that story you were reading. The need to finish it eats you alive! Since you can’t read it anymore…why not recreate it?
Take a knife from the kitchen, pull the bucket along outside, put on those gloves and grab the rodent by the throat!
The hero stood before the beast, his sword hovering just over the creature’s neck. He watched it squirm in distress, for it knew that its own end was near. An eager smile grew on the hero’s face as he dragged his sword over the area, letting the beast’s blood pour out onto his hands. The beast choked in agonizing pain before growing limp as life left its beady eyes…
You got in trouble for playing with dead rodents that day. Bad boy.
You went to bed in a bit of a daze with your head throbbing in pain again.
Good night.
Half the year flies by and nothing seems to change. Your bedsheets still stink and tears still fall. If anything changed, maybe it’s that you don’t seem to mind it all as much anymore.
Did you clean the weapons? Make sure not to cut your fingers again next time!
Did you help the Keeper arm himself? Very good, you know your stuff!
Did you make sure to feed the horses? They wanted to say thank you!
Did you finally stop being a coward? No, didn’t think so. The Keeper locked you in the dark room again, because you were too slow to bring him another. It’s dark in here and you’re already begging for him to let you out, but he only calls you a coward. You’ll never be a knight if you’re not brave. Stop crying. Stop. You have no lantern with you to ward off the darkness that surrounds you. Please stop crying for your sake.
Breathing filled my ears, and I knew it wasn’t just mine. I stumbled about blindly in the dark as the breathing grew louder and louder, before turning into an ear-piercing scream. My feet failed me as I tried to make my escape. I fell against the door, heavy gasps of air leaving my lungs. I pounded against the locked door with aching fists. In that moment, I wanted to get up and fight against the other presence in the room, but all I could do was sob and plead for the door to open. And to my surprise, the door swung open. Light poured into the room as I looked up at whom I believed to be my savior…before I realized it was my damnation.
You remember curling up on the floor. His stinging breath of fire keeps screaming at you, calling you everything you already know you are. You look at them all staring at you with your dizzy eyes. A world that keeps spinning and spinning and spinning…
Good night.
You don’t know this yet, but this is your last year.
Nothing seems to have changed still. Bed still wet. Head still aching. Hands still shaking. Guilt still building. Tears still falling.
Even though it was all a year ago, you still fear the dark. You cling much more tightly to your glass lantern, carrying around the dim light with you nearly everywhere. They mock you for guarding the light with your life. Sometimes they lock you in the dark room again with only your light, leaving you in there until the fire inside finally dies. Then, obviously, you begin to cry.
One time the Keeper pulled you aside. He said he didn’t want to see you crying anymore. You know what happens if he sees you crying. You must hide your face from them all. And you know just how to do it.
A white mask with no expression. It reminds you of the Black Knight of Nights. Behind it you cry silently with renewed confidence! Success! They don’t see you crying! They don’t seem to care about you with the mask on!
You’re smiling on the inside.
Then night falls, ending your successful day. You had a nightmare. Clean the sheets, hurry up, wipe those tears! Put on the mask before anyone sees you cry and light up a candle for your lantern.
You carry the messy sheets over to take them to the washroom, absolutely giddy with newfound strength. Will it finally get better now? After you wash off the sheets, you wrap yourself up in all the thick blankets before heading back to your bed to go sleep.
But turn that corner and face your fears, little boy.
“You’ve been wearing that mask all day. I already told you that you need to grow up.”
It’s the Keeper. You don’t say anything and only hug your lantern tighter.
“Take it off already.”
You don’t. You’re too scared to move. And if he sees you crying now…
“Why aren’t you listening to me?”
You can’t hold back the tears.
“And that damn lantern! Why do you keep carrying it around?”
You’re too choked up to speak.
“You need to grow up, Gregory. It’s been a year already and I’ve had enough of this ********. All this crying and all these fantasies…”
He takes a step closer, reaching out his hand. “Give it to me.”
You shake your head quickly in protest, causing his face to grow more intense.
“What game do you think you’re playing? Give me that bloiting lantern right now!”
When you still hesitate, he rushes at you and takes it forcefully from your grasp. He yanks out the candle and throws it at your feet.
“Now take off that damn mask and go back to your room!”
But you just stand there frozen in fear. Can’t move, can’t do anything. What a coward…
“What did I say?!”
And you only mumble your words. The Keeper tears off the mask from your face and tosses it to the ground, ridding of the barrier between your terrified eyes and his intense glare. He’s angry now. Without his usual choice of weapon, he lifts up his arm and swings the fragile lantern over your head.
Halt the tears that leak from your eyes. Show no weakness.
He hits you again and again with the lantern until the glass cracks.
Rise up off the floor. Be a true brave Knight of Nights.
Even then, he still keeps swinging, shattering it completely. It hurts more when the glass slices through your skull.
Does he want to kill you?
There’s blood on the floor.
You feel like you’re going to die.
The world clouds with black.
This can’t be it, right?
…Right?
The Ousted Knight of Nights hath awoken on the night the Lamp hath shattered. Finally… Finally part of his soul hath been freed…
The demon awakened, stirring suddenly with shards of the Chosen One’s Holy Lamp surrounding his mortal form. He had not been asleep for very long, as the moon still peaked in the dark sky. His fingers dragged through the blood pooled around him, becoming once again familiar with the blood that had been shed in the fields of battle. The fallen angel struggled to his knees, head spinning. It felt as if several, sharp, tiny horns pierced through his skull. He lifted up shaky fingers to run through his mortal head of hair, wincing in pain at every cut. Even if the Ousted Knight of Nights were to fall again from his wounds, he knew what he had to do.
He crawled to the Mask of the Knight’s Sorrow, carefully placing it over his head despite his aching weakness. He dragged his bloody fingers over the mask, creating tear-like stains under the mask’s two black lines. His own human blood continued to steam down his face as his fingers felt around the ground for a big enough shard of glass to hold in his hand before staggering to his feet. The Ousted Knight of Nights leaned heavily against the walls as he moved along in a daze to the beast’s chamber.
Pass by a mirror on your way to bring the Light. You look into your reflection...and all you see is my face. And you embrace it with tears.
At last, the fallen angel’s small child form reached the large doors of the chambers. He pushed at them, letting them creak open for him to slip through. How he hoped that the Keeper inside did not stir at his presence… The Ousted Knight of Nights trudged forwards, wide eyes staring at the beast as it slept. For all these years had it kept him still… All these years that he hated... He came upon the sleeping creature, taking the shard of the Holy Lamp over to the beast’s throat…
Good night.
Epilogue
You shouldn’t have come.
She doesn’t need you.
You don’t need them.
You’ve lived on your own for three years now.
You had to run, live on your own.
You can’t let them know.
…Or you will surely die.
They’ll hang you in the square.
It’s a good day to hide….
Go back and hide!
Hide…
Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios:
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child grazes you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Keletheryl stood in a trance-like confusion before the realization struck, his heart sinking in his chest. He removed the mask upon his face and(Keletheryl would never do that, I have no idea why I put that in) stretched out a hand—as if that would help catch the culprit—before he stumbled forward, breaking out into a chase for the other child. Gritting his teeth, Keletheryl charged in pursuit, moving as fast as his heavy legs and tired legs could carry him. After a whole day spent within the market, he had nearly been drained of all his energy. With the circumstances of his situation, a shot of adrenaline re-fueled his body to keep on moving. Neither a shout nor a cry left his throat, as the boy found it best to save his breath for his rival. The experience was all too familiar to him: every man for himself. Though his eyes were locked onto the thief, his mind had drifted elsewhere. He thought of his own sin, the struggle to survive in a corrupted world. Like many others, his being was impure. Would his own dark soul ever meet the wondrous radiance of Light, with the way his mortal life was? Would he ever aid in the—
His thoughts were cut short when he ran into a woman packing up her stall. She lectured the boy for a good thirty seconds before Keletheryl exclaimed, “The Ousted Knight of Nights hath a calling to heed! He must suspend thy trial and continue about his quest against the Hands of Sleights!” and ran off once more, only to have lost sight of the child due to the small diversion.
In light of the situation, Keletheryl tightened his fist and struck a dramatic pose amongst his breathless panting. “C-cursess… the… bleh… the Hands of Slights hath bested Keletheryl once againnnn.. Alas, tis indeed a discouragement, but thy dark matter nay shall vanquish the spirit of this mortal entity…!”
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Perhaps it was pity that lead him to act. Having never owned a pet before, Keletheryl found animals to be quite a fascination within the mortal world. Living, yet not what one would automatically define as sentient. Sometimes he thought the birds spoke to him, singing songs to decorate his life with beautiful music. Other times he would play with the rats they had caught in the cellar, using them as a means to create stories and tales about the timid creatures. Yet, a mother wolf and her pups proved to be a far more amusing sight to the young boy. At first, he merely stared. He watched them for quite a time, listening to the lamenting whines that screamed in their throats. The boy knew the situation and understood it well, acknowledging that he had no involvement in the life of the animal. He could have left right then, moved on with his existence, but he didn’t.
It was the pity that caused him to act.
Keletheryl fished inside of his pack for a piece of dry meat and cautiously placed it in front of the pained wolf in an attempt to distract her as he looked over the trap. She averted her attention from the bait at first, stressfully panting as she tried to drag herself away, before giving up and resting her muzzle on her paws. She didn’t even touch the treat. As the boy tried to pry open the trap, the pups kept their distance, sniffing coyly at the air with uncertainty. Every few minutes, the wolf would jolt again in an effort to escape, nipping and thrashing at Keletheryl despite his efforts to help. Eventually, he too gave up, unable to free the wolf on his own.
“I cannot help thee…” he muttered, backing away from the sorrowful sight. Silence overtook him for a moment before his exclamation passed through. “I… Keletheryl shall find another with the capability to bring aid!”
He gave the mother wolf and her puppies a brief, concerned glance before turning towards the town and hurrying off to find anyone that would bother to help the poor things…
Extra notes:
I’ve played this character before on another server, but never achieved a sense of closure with the guy. I hope to be able to play him again, and this time give him more opportunity for advancement whether it be that he becomes an actual knight or an illusionary mage this go around (last time, he became a blacksmith, but that’s a whole other story).
Also, it was Thovian who referred me to Saphriel and I’ve become so invested that I read/skimmed over all the posts on the enjin forums. I quite like how everything is fleshed and hear from Thovian that there’s even more to discover on the server! I hope to find myself accepted so that I may explore it myself.
Only fill out below if you want your character to have magic capabilities. If you don't fill this out, then your character will be incapable of performing any form of magic. Note that it will take significant in character practice and experience to become any form of proficient in magic.
(We only accept high quality magic applications!)
Magic Biography; Explain the reason you want your character to have magic through backstory application:
Do you remember the mirror?
“My mother… She’d given me this mirror in her will before her passing, Gregory,” Madeline explained to the curious child. Gregory looked up to his mother, an easily awestruck face on his naïve expression. His mother looked back into his wide and amused eyes, her faint smile reforming on her face as she turned the face of the mirror to reflect the both of them. “That’s me… and that’s you…!”
Gregory smiled at the two reflections within the small space and waved his hands at them. “Hi, me! Hi, you!”
“No, no! That’s not their names, that’s us! Silly boy…” Madeline chuckled, her hand moving up to pat the boy’s head. While she smiled for the moment, her expression slowly started to dim. With her eyes trained upon the mirror, she started to space out, her mind turning into sludge. Gregory’s insistent poking failed to break through the barrier that locked up his mother’s consciousness.
“Mommm…?” The boy tilted his head and looked into the mirror when suddenly his mother’s shuddering voice spoke out.
“My mother… she speaks to me sometimes… She tells me—she tells me I am just as powerful as her… I can hear her, right now, yes! She says… she says I should have been the one… I should have received Bothimir’s blessing… I should—I should have!... Me… I could have been special… I could have been like her…”
“I think mommy’s special…” he muttered. No matter how loud he spoke, his mother often didn’t hear him. Not during one of her fits. Gregory’s attention drifted back into the mirror—no, it called for him!—and let his fingers reach out the touch the clean surface of his reflection. The touch made him feel drowsy, sick to the stomach. It was as if the mirror-Gregory drained out all his energy... The urge to yawn built up, yet not even the corners of his lips twitched. He wondered why he felt immensely sluggish all of a sudden. And then a crack in the mirror formed, shattering the image of himself. He blinked slowly and nodded up his head, staring straight across from him to see what looked like a little boy—no, another image of himself appeared in front of him! He looked across and saw himself, as if he were looking through a large mirror that suddenly appeared in front of him. This Gregory, however, didn’t move. It didn’t blink and only stood stationary. Gregory’s jaw dropped and he pointed forward, trying to alert his mother of his new copy.
When she saw it, she screamed. The woman practically threw the child out of her lap and pried the mirror from his hands. She threw it out into the hallway, her panicked breathing never slowing.
“No! It can’t be, can’t be true! NO! NOO! Please, not my son…!”
Gregorry looked up to his mother, his face frozen with terror. “M-momm..?”
“Shhh! SHHH! Do not speak or else the—AAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Madeline grabbed her son by the neck and lifted him up, her breathing growing rapid. “A demon… A-A demon.. hath spawned within mine House of Black… I shall—I SHALL—expell theee…!”
The world around him faded into an ugly black.
How long ago was that?
Keletheryl watched from behind the tree, its bark peeled from years of its service in providing itself as a target for practicers. His eyes were set upon a group of mages, displaying their talent and progress with small tricks from what looked like a variety of jewelry. One of them turned a coin blue, while another made a floating orb of light dance around their small circle.
To Keletheryl, the mere craft amused him, yet it was the display of the illusionist within the group that he felt drawn towards. They created a small image of a bird in their palm, letting their friends see the creation before making it shift into a black cat. His thoughts strayed toward all the fantastical images and projections he could create, his mind racing wild with ideas. A sharp, searing headache drew him out from his thoughts, the sluggish feeling coming over him once more. He looked across at the illusionist’s bracelet, feeling ever more drawn towards the object. For a moment, he thought it was calling him, as if it were leaching away his roaring imagination and pulsating with an ecstatic draw.
In his daze, the magi noticed him staring and turned their gazes to him, calling out to snap him out of his trance. Keletheryl blinked in confusion before slinking back behind the tree and into hiding. As he turned to leave, the longing feeling soon faded away with the distance between him and the trinket. He begun to think of all the things he could do if he could utilize that power that seeped into the trinket, of all the worlds he could create… People would be able to see the things they could never see before, and they could witness the wonder of his constant stream of imagination! They could watch in wonder as his creations put on plays or recited poetry for them, or better yet, witness the glowing radiance of the Light! They could see the angels and the demons, all the demon spores, too! If they didn’t possess the true-sight for it, he could just show them through the illusions he could bend…
Everyone surely would be able to play along better.
Please give an example in your own words describing the limitations placed upon those who use magic:
Magic proves itself to be quite a dangerous and taxing craft to take into practice, requiring extensive training and an appropriate trinket of the precise aspect and power in order properly utilize. The dangers of using a weak trinket for magic beyond what the trinket can handle can often be detrimental towards the user, with either the caster being harmed or the trinket being destroyed in the process; likewise, using a trinket without moderating one’s own abilities can lead to overexertion and completely drain one of energy (sometimes resulting in death!).
Please give a description of the magic system in your own words:
The magic system on Saphriel is presented in a rather unique format, with there being no explicit spells necessary to hone the craft. Instead, the magic system is based upon namely three factors: (1) magic potential, (2) trinkets, (3) experience. While currently unknown how one gains magic potential, it can be speculated that they are born with ability or have been exposed to certain conditions in which their power has become apparent. With the magical potential in mind, mages use trinkets as a medium to channel this potential. Trinkets vary in power levels from weak to divine, with the highest of these tiers being the rarest and most able to allow a mage to perform an extremely powerful feat. As well as this, trinkets denote certain types of aspects that mages may use for a particular type of magic that corresponds with their own specialty (water mages with water aspect trinkets, etc). When a trinket is overloaded with an amount of arcane energy that it cannot contain being channeled throughout it, possible damage can occur, of which either harms the user or the trinket. Mages also must keep in mind their own ability and experience, as they too can tire after overexertion of their power. Thus, the importance of practice and many years of mental training are heavily stressed amongst mages expecting to consider themselves masters within the craft.
You are given a weak trinket of <illusion>, you haven't had much practice with magic yet, but you will try your best. Describe some things you could/would do with this trinket:
Due to Keletheryl’s age and frankly his inexperience with the concept of magic, he would be largely unable to utilize his potential and the trinket’s power to its fullest extent. He would, however, pick up on a vague connection with such a trinket, more so than the many mundane objects he over-exaggerates the value in. Upon letting his mind grind its gears and excite, Keletheryl could possibly unintentionally create a vague image before him of something he is familiar with, yet still find a “fake” kind of quality to the projected illusion (mostly due to the fact that it cannot move and he can’t touch it). With the idea of creating the fantasies within his mind and making them into a reality that everyone can visually see and experience, the boy would attempt to practice more with the weak trinket to create more imagery, further tiring and straining his own mental constitution and possibly even breaking the trinket should he overload the thing. It is quite likely that he would end up severely hurting himself if he were to pursue magic without guidance.
You start with one aspect only. You gain the rest of them (How ever many your race may have) of your own choice through further RP, however you will not be able to attain them immediately.
I’m expecting that this aspect, in this character’s case would be illusion, would be a rather weak and raw form that I would excitably enjoy possibly expanding upon via roleplay. Gives more open possibilities for how this character will develop, but currently, Keletheryl would possess little knowledge about real magic.
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): ak10itoh
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
I have played on Minecraft RP servers (ones I remember: Asmalur and Mel-Lenxia) and a few D&D campaigns with some minimal experience with forum RP. One character I had was Akio Itoh (skype name) who was a blind man serving a royal elven family as something of a bodyguard/butler/retainer/manservant. I had set chunk rendering to be as low as possible to create that feeling of "blindness" and my RP with him mainly involved him getting into mischief (unintentionally IC, definitely intentional OOC) because of his lack of sight.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is moving the RP in a direction without the consent of the other members. It can involve making a character’s actions extremely unrealistic and taking control of someone else's character.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Metagaming is using knowledge obtained OOC and using it IC.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Roleplaying is taking on a persona that is not your own, however similar or different. As the word itself implies, it involves playing a role and acting, and maybe even thinking and feeling, through a fictional character’s perspective.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Lilac
-Character race: Human
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 19
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Knife Juggler / Performer
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Lilac is 5’9” and a little on the scrawnier side as a result of not eating very much. He has narrow brown eyes and messy black hair. He has very prominent cheekbones and his face comfortably fits into a childish grin. His attire consists of a sleeveless cloth tunic with a cloth rope belt and cloth leggings. He wears a small white cap (almost like a kippah).
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
Lilac outwardly appears to be a very jovial person who simply enjoys joking around. People that spend more time around him might notice that he as a little off and might be too happy all the time. In truth, Lilac is simply uncomfortable with more somber tones. He is not necessarily an idiot and can understand people’s feelings like an average person would, however he prefers to keep a smile and continue to jest. He will try to avoid combat whenever possible.
Lilac has no form of education and his general knowledge of the world is wanting. He is also illiterate. He is good accuracy at throwing small objects such as knives and is arguably one of the best jugglers Saphriel has ever seen, a skill which he had honed for most of his life.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Once upon a time, there was a group of likeminded madmen and madwomen who had left their urban homes with the belief that the world was plotting against them and that the demons would be their salvation. These misguided pilgrims headed to the northeast to settle by the Jagged Mountains. Once they had arrived, they were fortunate enough to happen upon a man who had actual knowledge of dark magic. The man taught them how to summon a demon so they could worship it.
After some time, the cultists had prepared everything as the man instructed them and summoned a Blaze. Almost ironically, this false deity demanded their lives as tribute, and the small settlement of cultists was no more. One such child of two cultists, a 7-year-old boy named Lilac, had been out playing in the woods as this massacre had occurred. He returned to find his home burnt to ashes and his family and neighbors’ corpses seared beyond recognition. Unable to fully cope with the situation, he stayed at the ruined settlement, foraging for food on his own and taking water from the nearby river.
Lilac was eventually found by a travelling circus returning from an expedition within the orc clans. This circus had rare talents and were enough to charm the orcs without attracting their ire. Giaccamo, one of the performers and a fairly young man himself at the time, took Lilac in as a younger brother. Lilac had taken full advantage of the circus’s hospitality and would be soon to forget his original family. Surrounded by clowns and jesters of all sorts, he aspired to find his own talent. He had tried his luck first with the acrobats, but he found that he was, although nimble, quite a clumsy fellow. The beast tamer tried his best, although handling animals proved too dangerous for a child. He picked up a few cheap tricks from the magician, but the charm was ultimately lost on the child when he realized there was no actual magic.
In the end, Lilac had found his talent in juggling, specifically knife juggling. Of course, it took practice and many painful mishaps, but by the age of 10, he had become as proficient if not more so than any other knife juggler in the circus. The circus had then been travelling between the dwarves at Thonduhm, the elves at the Black Forest, and the humans at Barramsted. There were a few orcs in the circus, which helped, but journeys past the Jagged Mountains were often very risky. When Lilac was 18, they had set out eastwards once more to visit the orc clans. There may not have seemed to be much sense in going to the orcs, but the circus itself was more interested in being able to entertain an audience than actually making money, a sentiment Lilac would later share.
This expedition to the orcs had been the circus’s last trip. Unfortunately, a drunken chieftain had not very much appreciated coins being “stolen” from his ears. He had declared the circus to be a group of thieves, and they were subsequently enslaved, with the thief losing his fingers. Lilac’s hands were bound by rope as he stared at the night sky, wondering where fate would take him next. To his luck, Giaccamo had evaded capture and returned to free Lilac. Just as he freed Lilac’s hands, a patrolling orc had come and seen what had occurred. The orc began to scream, alerting the entire tribe of what had gone on. Giaccamo stayed back, ultimately sacrificing his life to give Lilac enough time to make a hasty retreat. Lilac wandered for quite a while after becoming free, and he had once again lost his place to belong. He eventually returned to western Saphriel and now performs on city streets for a modest living, ever struggling to maintain a smile during hard times.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each):
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
“Oh my,” Lilac says as his attention turns to the little pickpocket. Noticing a momentary split in the crowd as the child runs away, Lilac is quick to pursue the little rascal. As he runs, a grin creeps up on his face; Lilac is enjoying himself. However, after bumping into many people and tripping over many small boxes, he finds himself very out of breath. “You win this time,” he mutters under his breath not all too displeasedly as he resigns himself to a relaxing stroll, humming gleefully all the while. Lilac eventually returned to the more crowded venues of the city, juggling rocks with his cap set on the ground in front of him for people to toss their coins into.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Lilac remembers his time with the circus’s beast tamer, and if there had been one thing he was able to learn, it was to treat animals kindly. He rushes over to pry open the bear trap, sympathizing with the beasts. The consequences of this act ultimately fly over Lilac’s head, prioritizing the words of people whom he had considered family. There was no deep consideration, he was quick to act upon what he felt was right, oblivious to the fact that the wolf would likely bleed out and suffer the same fate.
Extra Notes:
I heard about this server from a skype group with Cyshadichu, rain0611, and Thovian.
I have been in contact with a few people and the staff team has come to the conclusion that you not be allowed to be a member of our community, Thanks for the interest though I know it's without promise.
This application is almost at the point we would like it at, but we would like to see the personality and backstory sections expanded on so that we may get a better sense of the character.
This was a very enjoyable application that was written wonderfully. I cannot wait to see Keletheryl, Gregory, wandering around in-game! The magic application was very well done, The thing to remember with a child is that magic is very physically draining and even with practice a kid may never be able to reach the same potential as an adult.
Thank you for the application, but there were a few issues that we came across. Summoning demons is something that requires an affinity for dark magic and training in the art among a swarm of other things. If it was not the man that they came across performing the ritual, it would not have succeeded unless by chance there were some members of the group that possessed the gift for magic and spent months or years training in dark magic.
Another thing is that it would be very unlikely for orcs to be a part of anything but battle with the races of the Alliance, even a circus. The circus would likely stick to the Alliance lands, which were growing very sparse at the time that Lilac would have been a part of it. The latter part of the biography works because the Pact War has ended about three years ago (When Lilac would have been 16 with his current age of 19).
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): MasterMetaphor
-Do you have any prior role play-related experience, if so could you give an example? I do indeed. I have role played on multiple medieval servers such as Gildorym, MassiveCraft, and Alaurin. As well as experience in alternative roleplay genres such steampunk, cyberpunk, and ancient roleplay.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is the act of forcing an action or refusing to take damage. It is also making a character too powerful or untouchable.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Meta-gaming is the act of using knowledge gained Out Of Character in a In Character scenario or giving Out Of Character knowledge to another player In Character.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Role-play is creating a character and living out the life of the character in a set environment. This includes developing relationships and creating a standard of living for said character.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Darion
-Character race: Human
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 23
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Blacksmith, Hunter
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Darion is a human male, standing at 6' 4", a 3 foot shoulder span, and large barrel-chested build. He has a scar across his face and tattoos on his arms, inked on through a series of needle-points and ink along with a brand on his upper left arm. His hair is a deep red color which compliments his tanned skin and blue eyes.
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
Darion's personality revolves around his hatred for civilization, his disdain for government, and his rage upon any who would claim themselves to be a leader but sit quietly while suffering endures and prospers under their reign. Darion's general experience with people of all races is mostly negative slowly creating an anti-social personality disorder that eventually turned into hatred for many. It was this personality disorder that made him become a wandering hermit, never wanting to stay in a city or settlement longer than he needed to. However this hatred does not extend to those who has formed a relation of some sort with him. Darion sees value in life, regardless of race, however won't often step forth to save it unless he is directly involved with the person or creature in some way and understands the principles of hunting and over hunting, never killing more than he needs and finding a use for multiple parts of the carcass and burying what he doesn't use. Darion learnt from a young age the cruelty and waste of people of all races. He saw that no race was infallible, though they may claim as such. Every living being is capable of morality and thus evil exists. Some see evil as a presence that may threaten entire kingdoms, but true evil threatens individual lives. Ruining happy lifestyles of those too weak or few to fight back. Destroying families for only a palm of silver. In Darion's eyes this was true evil, the gods spoke not unto these wicked ones, they did not enact divine vengeance upon those who torture and hurt so many. They do not rage out at the slave traders, nor bandits, nor the malcontent of the world. In his eyes the gods hold no use for they care not for those who pray hardest to them. The struggling mother, the desperate father, the dying child. Where is their retribution? Where is their revenge? These questions and many more plague Darion's mind. He has become a man who does not willingly associate with other people, preferring to live in the wilds and forests of the world. Fending off animals, running from beasts he could never hope to overcome. Running. Always running. Perhaps trying to escape his own mortality...or maybe to escape himself.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Darion was born to a northern woman named Veronica, a slave taken by sea-raiders. His existence began as a slave child, branded from birth, bred for the sole purpose of being sold later on for a high price. His mother had little control of her own destiny, and his father was none other than a slave trader. Darion's mother was purchased along with many other women to breed strong stock. There was no love, there was no passion, there was no joy. Darion was worth no more than a sack of silver to his father and the same went for his half-siblings and mother. One day Darion, 5 years old, was taken out of his confined prison like home and walked through town with shackles on his hands and feet. He saw the people, the merchants, the slavers, This was his first time walking among them. When they reached a pit in the ground with railing around it. He looked in to see a starved dog, snarling and barking at the people as they threw stones and sticks at it. Darion watched it in horror hoping to not get closer to such a beast. Suddenly his shackles were removed and he was tossed into the pit with the dog who backed up and snarled at him. The merchants cheered and a club was throw in by him. He grabbed it and stood shakily to his feet, looking to the dog with fear. He quickly realized what this was; a fight to amuse passing wealthy men and merchants. The dog lunged at Darion, his small body tossed back by the force. It bit into the club and struggled with Darion before ripping it from one of his small hands, his right hand holding fast to it as the dog bit into his arm and he screamed. He begged for help, begging for someone to save him, but all he saw were the faces of the slavers and merchants cheering on the dog as they held their bets. Darion couldn't think, he only knew this dog was going to kill him. The dog bit deeper into his arm as blood flowed forth and Darion's mind raced with fear and terror. He was going to die unless he acted. 'Die...I'm going to die' he thought as the pain pulsed through his small body. 'I-...I don't want to die!'. Darion swung the hammer and smacked the dog off of him. His body went hot and he screamed at the dog. He felt his body rush with rage knowing if he didn't kill the dog it would kill him. The dog lunged at him once more and Darion screamed as he bashed its head in. The dog lay dead but Darion continued to scream and beat the dog with all his might, shattering and breaking its corpse as the merchants and slavers watched. At first it was silence but then they cheered for him. They cheered for the boy who was beating a dead dog. Darion looked around but he no longer saw people. No, these were monsters in human clothing. He realized then that people are cruel and hateful, incapable of any compassion towards something with no worth. Darion was taken from the ring still panicking and his wounds treated as he was reshackled. His father looked at him content, like one looks at a prize trophy. Darion never learnt his father's name, he never asked either, to do so would mean to end up like the others who disobeyed, dead. As Darion grew older his mother spent whatever time she could with him, he was her pride and joy, as he was her first child. She taught him things to do in the solace and quiet, things like carving driftwood into shapes, how to write, and basic reading. Though his life was not his own, his mother wanted nothing more than to keep him safe, and one fateful day she got her opportunity. Darion's father had left to do some trading when the village came under attack by an army, seeking to disrupt and end the slave trade in the village. However the raiders, bandits, and slave owners fought back, even going as far as killing the slaves so they could not be freed. In all this confusion Darion's mother, Veronica, leapt forth with Darion, only 7 years old, and an old dagger. Many slaves took off after them, following them away from the perilous fight.
For days they kept moving, stopping only to find food. His mother told Darion to find firewood as she dug around in the ground. Darion returned to his mother, striking a flint rock against her iron dagger to make a spark on a small pile of brush and pine needles. She started the fire and had Darion set down the wood. They sat at their fire as a sound was heard from the forest, rustling, lights appearing through the trees, and the barking of dogs. Some slave traders had followed them, and there were many of them. Veronica panicked and grabbed Darion, taking off into a sprint, she hoped she could out run them. As Darion layed in her arms he heard a sound and watched his mother's face wince in pain. She kept running as arrows flew past them. Veronica looked over at a ledge, running to it and looking down at the roaring river below. Veronica looked back at the quickly approaching slave traders and raiders, then to her son. She kissed his head and whispered to him "I love you" before jumping off the ledge to the roaring rapids below.
Darion awoke, laying on the beach, his entire body hurt but he couldn't move, the pain was excruciating. He managed only to look over at his mother, who lay there beside him, an arrow shoved clean through her, it was then Darion realized what the sound he heard was. It was the arrow that pierced his mother. Soon another horrifying realization hit him, she wasn't breathing. The arrow had gone deeper from the fall and now Darion, unable to move or even look away, was left staring at his mother's corpse. He tried to scream but his throat hurt far too much, he could only make out raspy gasps as he cried, staring at his mother who had given everything to keep him alive. And now he was left alone, no one to help him, unable to move his broken legs and arms as they throbbed in agony. He laid there for two whole days listening to the sound of the world. The birds chirped, the water roared, the wind blew through the trees, and the various animals chimed in from time to time changing the tune of this pathetic existence of his. But then one morning, he heard a new sound, footsteps. He mustered every last bit of strength he had just to look towards this wondrous new sound. He saw an old man, large in build, holding a fishing rod in one hand and a tackle box in the other. The old man dropped both when he laid eyes on them, the dead woman and the small child lying by her. Darion cried, he cried and he screamed for help. The old man rushed to him, examining his body, and an expression of horror crossed his face at the sight. A child with mangled arms and legs, tossed about by the rapids and left to lay on the very beach he fished on. The old man rushed to the treeline, disappearing for many minutes. Darion thought he was left alone once more, that he was too broken to be worth anything to anyone. He saw the world as his father would. That because he was broken he was worth nothing. but then the old man came back with a stretcher, gently sliding it beneath Darion. The old man looked at Veronica, his instinct told him she was already dead and had been for some time. He carefully carried Darion back to his home where he laid him on a bed and began to set his arms and legs back in place. The process was agonizing for Darion, one that made him pass out cold. When he came to, he heard the sound of metal being smashed together, the sound rung out, like a beautiful bell ringing. He listened to it, still unable to move. The sound stopped and soon after the old man walked back in. He looked at Darion and knelt beside him, asking him "Ye a'ight?". Darion struggled to move at all but he managed to give him a nod. Darion asked, "Why did you save me? I don't have any value no more". The old man glared at him and asked in turn, "What makes ye t'ink ye got no value?". Darion looked at him and said, "My body is broken....I can't do anything...I'm useless and must be thrown away." The old man shook his head and said, "Nay lad, every life be precious, even da lives o' da animals in da woods. We hunt 'em but we also protect 'em. Tis a give an' take. Every un 'as value. Regardless who it be". Darion stared at him in wonder. 'Everything has value? Even me?' he thought to himself. Darion gulped and asked the old man, "What was that sound just now, the ringing sound. When you were outside". The old man looked at him and raised an eyebrow before saying, "Twas me forge, I make tools, nails an' 'inges fer nearby villages". At this word 'forge' he asked, "What does a forge do?". The old man smiles and said, "Tis where blacksmiths work and live most deir days". Darion's eyes lit up, he didn't know what blacksmithing entailed, only that he wanted to make the beautiful sound he had heard. The ringing sound that was so short yet sounded so sweet, like a bell. Darion looked up at him in wonder as he asked, "What is your name?". The old man smiled brightly as he said "Gount...people call me Master Gount, an yer name?". Smiled back just as bright, "Darion".
It was 3 years later, Darion, 10 years old now, helped out at the forge. He got materials, moved water, sorted the tools and even learned how to make basic nails. But today was to be no ordinary day. For today Darion began his true apprenticeship under Gount. Today he would learn to truly work metal. Darion was excited as could be at the prospect of finally making that sound he loved to hear so much. Gount was much older now as well, getting into his late 50s. Darion was anxious to begin his training. They day passed quickly as Darion struggled to just dent the metal, withstand the hot heat of the mighty forge, and lift the metal with tongs. The day ended but Darion's blacksmith training had only begun. Many years later Darion was a much larger, stronger boy. Darion, now 16, had learnt all Gount had to teach him. Except one thing. Gount had left to go get the materials for this last lesson, when he returned he had a cart, loaded with materials, some Darion had never seen before. Gount smiled at Darion, but Darion did not smile back. Darion asked him sternly, "How much was all dis?". Gount kept smiling as he said, "I spent almost all me silver I 'ad left on dese 'ere materials, dis lesson be da most important o' all. Learning ta smith stronger metal". Darion was still angered by the old man spending so much money but he let it go. He realized Gount wanted this to be the best lesson yet as it was their final lesson. Gount, 63 at this point, had worked his body to the bone over his lifetime and in his old age the toll was great for him to do anything. From now on Darion would run the Smithy and take care of Gount as he had taken care of him. But first they had to complete their final lesson. Darion asked him, "What tis dis metal an' what makes it so special?". Gount looked at him and said, "Dis metal tis stronger. Da process be longer an' far more tryin'. Be ye ready, Darion?". Darion smiled and nodded. Gount responded in kind and began to unload the materials. Darion assisted him and helped him lay everything out. Soon the process began and by the end of it Darion had learnt the crafting of steel. Darion was proud of himself and this pride shined forth from Gount as well, knowing he had taught Darion all he knew and could finally live the rest of his life peacefully. Unfortunately there are no such happy endings in the real world. These years of tranquility were but a calm in the ever raging storm of life, and now that storm was coming back to strip away what happiness Darion had found.
A mere 2 years later Darion had proven himself a great blacksmith. He made tools for the farmers, arrow heads for the hunters and even made equipment for himself, such as a spear. The hunters taught him fletching so that he might make arrows as well, though it took him awhile to get the hang of it. Failing many times before finally making a single functioning arrow. Darion began hunting small animals and prey so that he might save some money on buying food, giving what he caught to the hunters and received a portion back, cleaned and sometimes even cooked. Life was good and the world was calm in this remote place he called home. But all that changed one day when the raiders attacked. Raiders attacking was nothing new and most times the village guards could handle them. But this time it wasn't just a raid, it was a full on attack, many ships and men landed. Darion looked out over the treeline from the smithy and saw smoke and fire rising into the sky. Gount had gone out earlier that day to get some medicine from the herbalist within the village. Darion panicked and the night he lost his mother flashed back to him and he grabbed his head as it throbbed violently. Darion regained himself after a time, grabbed his spear and bow and took off towards the village to assist. However by the time he arrived the village was engulfed, the raider ships sailing away with whatever they could carry. Darion wandered into the burning village and at its center was piles of slain guards and raiders. But it was what was at its heart that shook Darion to the core. Gount had been rammed through with a pike and pinned to a wall, his axe still firmly in his hand. Darion looked at Gount with fear and denial before rushing to him. Gount looked up at Darion and with the last of his energy said, "Leave me...leave this place...tis...no longer safe....run". With these final words Gount died, his injuries severe and his willpower and adrenaline being the only thing that let him hold out this long. Darion collapsed and cried. He cried and thought back to his mother, who had given everything to save him. And now Gount who dedicated his life to raising him. Darion's mind went around in circles almost endlessly before finally he screamed out. He cursed the names of the gods, cursed the raiders, and most of all he cursed himself. It was hours before Darion regained himself, the village now smoldering ruins. He stood up and walks outward. He was broken and silent.
He knew not where he would go or even what he would do. But he swore he would never trust again. He would only survive for himself. He owed that to his mother, Veronica, and to his master, Gound. He would live to find a reason to keep living, regardless of how far he would go or how long he must wait. He would keep moving, always moving. The nightmares of his past still haunting him to this day in his dreams.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each)
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
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Darion looks back at the child running, he didn't have much silver to begin with and assumed the child must need it more. He keeps walking, wanting nothing more than to get out of the town and back to his campsite as quickly as he could.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-colored wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
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Darion looks at the wolf, approaching it slowly. As he approaches the wolf would growl at him, her pups nearby and defenseless. Darion goes to release the trap but the wolf would lash out biting into his arm. He winces at the pain but continues to release the trap, then glaring at the mother wolf before flinging her off his arm. The pups scurry behind her as she limps, she will likely be killed by anther predator in her current state but that wasn't his concern. He examines his wound and reaches into his satchel grabbing a flask of water and some wrappings. Washes off the wound and wraps it, he would treat it fully when he reached the city and got more supplies.
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): K-lub_Grow-again
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
Dungeons and Dragons, Tunnel Rats, Pathfinder, Minecraft RP, forum RP, RP on a mobile app
-----Define Power-gaming in your own words: Creating a nearly perfect character, or doing things with your character that shouldn’t be possible, such as a child lifting a car.
-----Define Meta-gaming in your own words: using knowledge that your character doesn’t posses in character, or guiding your character down a preset path with no variation whatsoever
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Placing yourself in another person or character’s shoes, and pretending you are that person, guiding their decisions and influencing the world around them
----IC Info----
-Character name: Zyn Dach
-Character race: Dark-elf
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 30 years
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Hunter
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Zyn’s skin is a fairly light shade of gray, while his eyes are a dark, intense red. He has two scars on his face, one crossing over his left eye, the other one starting at his right cheek and meeting the other scar above his nose. He, like most Dark Elves, has a rather lean, muscular build. His shoulder, back, and chest muscles are well defined from many years of using a bow.
Zyn doesn't care what he is wearing in a casual situation, but much of his wardrobe consists of deep greens and browns, and other practical colors for blending into the trees and other various flora around him. He normally tucks his hair behind his right ear, and allows the hair on his left side to hang unchecked right above his eye, covering most of one of the scars covering his face.
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
Zyn is generally an agreeable fellow; his enthusiastic grins and laughter, coupled with his brilliantly shining eyes, generally take away from the unsettling effect his scar has on most people when they first see him. This being said, he has a very strict set of morals, and any who go against these, or even suggest it, often are the subject of scorn from Zyn.
Zyn believes strongly in the idea that nature should be treated with the utmost respect, and those who don’t use every part of their kill, or sell it to those who will, deserve to be punished. Keeping this in mind, he doesn’t think it is his place to take justice into his own hands, and rather leaves it to the God of the Hunt.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
(The age will remain unchanged, due to the fact that Zyn did not hunt these bears on his own, and was in a hunting party supervised by his father. I killed my first deer at the age of 7, and believe that in a society heavily based on the forest, killing multiple bears at the age of 17, despite decelerated aging, is completely plausible)
Zyn was around the age of 17 when he earned his scars. His father didn’t want to take him along to hunt a prize bear that was terrorizing the other denizens of the forest. Zyn didn’t agree with his father’s decision, since he had killed many bears before, and had assumed his father wanted to take credit for the kill. A few minutes after his father left with several other elves to find the bear, Zyn slunk out of their house, evading anyone he knew and eventually leaving the tree.
After an hour and a half of tracking, Zyn had started to lose heart. He didn’t particularly care about the bear, his father had just made him angry because he was trying to claim all the glory for himself. He sighed and turned around, his heart dropping into his boots; he was lost.
He backtracked, and second guessed himself, and repeated this process countless times before he decided to make a life changing decision; he found a nearby, hollowed out tree and elected to spend the night there. He stepped inside and turned to his left, and was immediately rewarded with a roar that shook the ground from behind him. He whipped around just in time to see a claw flying towards his face, and managed to turn a blow that would have snapped his neck into a deep scratch across his face. He quickly unsheathed his hunting knife from his belt, the weapon seeming impossibly small in his hand. He assumed a crouching position, ready to face this gargantuan monster.
After what felt like hours, but in actuality was only around five minutes, Zyn had a second wound across his face to compliment the first one. He was backed against a tree, and had just begun to give up and pray to the Gods, when several arrows pierced the flank of the creature. It rose to its hind legs and unleashed a mighty roar, the action covering Zyn in saliva and chunks of the other unfortunate denizens of the forest who had fallen to the bear. The bear turned to face its attackers, and was immediately met with three spears the stomach, and one to the throat. After a wet snarl, the bear took its final breath and collapsed, Zyn following suite due to exhaustion.
Zyn eventually woke up, and was sitting in the back of a cart pulled by a horse, driven by his father and his hunting party. After a brief tirade, Zyn's father embraced his son, crying and yelling and chastising and reassuring them both in rapid succession, to the point where Zyn wasn't sure if he was being punished or rewarded. After a while, Zyn's father pulled away, and sat in silence as they rode towards home. Zyn was kept under close watch from that moment onward, mostly due to his father's increased caution when it came to his son's actions after the encounter with the bear, no matter how much Zyn attempted to convince him would never happen again.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each):
--You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
--Zyn laughs as he talks to the merchant, inspecting a quiver of high quality arrows. He could make his own, but due to his lack of experience with blacksmithing, he only used stone arrowheads, and these were steel. As he begins to finalize the purchase, he feels his belt become lighter. He turns and sees a child sprinting away with his coin purse, and immediately chases after him. He was definitely faster than the boy, but the boy knew the city. It took him much longer than he would have liked, but he eventually catches the boy by the back of his shirt, kicking his legs out from under him. He retrieves his coin purse from the boy, digging his knee into the boy’s back. “The dwarves make better targets.” he says, smirking slightly “They’re slow, and they have the reach of a toddler.” He rises to his feet, tossing the boy a handful of coins. “Get yourself some food. I’ll remember your face, and i’ll come to collect my debt whenever i see fit.” he says, securing his coin purse to his belt, returning to the man selling arrows, and swearing to himself upon arrival. The vendor had packed up and left.
--You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
--Zyn, always cautious out in the wilderness, picked up the whining from some distance away. He slowly unsheathed his blade, approaching the source of the noise. He eventually comes across a wolf, caught in a bear trap, with three pups. He kneels beside the wolf, and mutters a brief prayer to the God of the Hunt before slicing its neck, doing the same to the young wolves beside her. He scavenges around, and eventually gets enough wood to fashion a makeshift sled to drag the wolves across the forest floor and back to his home, where he would skin them and create a cloak for himself out of the pelt, cook and eat the meat, and sell what he didn’t use at the local market. He did not believe in wasting a kill, and would sooner give away the whole thing for free than just leave what he didn’t use to rot.
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): ak10itoh
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
I have played on Minecraft RP servers (most recently Asmalur) and a few D&D campaigns with some minimal experience with forum RP. One character I had was Akio Itoh (skype name) who was a blind man serving a royal elven family as something of a bodyguard/butler/retainer/manservant. I had set chunk rendering to be as low as possible to create that feeling of "blindness" and my RP with him mainly involved him getting into mischief (unintentionally IC, definitely intentional OOC) because of his lack of sight.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is moving the RP in a direction without the consent of the other members. It can involve making a character’s actions extremely unrealistic and taking control of someone else's character.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Metagaming is using knowledge obtained OOC and using it IC.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Roleplaying is taking on a persona that is not your own, however similar or different. As the word itself implies, it involves playing a role and acting, and maybe even thinking and feeling, through a fictional character’s perspective.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Lilac
-Character race: Human
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 19
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Knife Juggler / Performer
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Lilac is 5’9” and a little on the scrawnier side as a result of not eating very much. He has narrow brown eyes and messy black hair. He has very prominent cheekbones and his face comfortably fits into a childish grin. His attire consists of a sleeveless cloth tunic with a cloth rope belt and cloth leggings. He wears a small white cap (almost like a kippah).
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
Lilac outwardly appears to be a very jovial person who simply enjoys joking around. People that spend more time around him might notice that he as a little off and might be too happy all the time. In truth, Lilac is simply uncomfortable with more somber tones. He is not necessarily an idiot and can understand people’s feelings like an average person would, however he prefers to keep a smile and continue to jest. He will try to avoid combat whenever possible. His tragic past has caused him to hate violence, and if he could do anything to make someone else’s life happier, he would.
Lilac has no form of education and his general knowledge of the world is wanting. He is also illiterate. He is good accuracy at throwing small objects such as knives and is arguably one of the best jugglers Saphriel has ever seen, a skill which he had honed for most of his life.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Once upon a time, there was a group of likeminded madmen and madwomen who had left their urban homes with the belief that the world was plotting against them. Most of these people were peasants, and only a few of them had children. One of these children was a boy, seven years of age, named Lilac. These misguided pilgrims headed to the northeast to settle by the Jagged Mountains. A nearby orc clan had found the settlement and, angered by the sight of humans so close to their territory, were quick to massacre them.
Then comes the first stroke of magnificent luck in Lilac’s life. He had been out playing in the woods while the slaughter had occurred, being able to avoid the ordeal entirely. Lilac, not the sharpest tool in the shed as a child, had gotten himself lost in the woods, and it was not until the following morning that he found his home in ruins. Denying what he saw, he looked around to find corpses, most of them mutilated or burnt beyond recognition. His trance was broken when he noticed an orc scouting party heading in his direction who had not noticed him yet. He turned and ran away without looking back, fear for his life allowing him to forget his despair if only for a moment.
Lilac was eventually found by a travelling circus which had come out of the nearby city of Falkvard, before its invasion by the Pact. Giaccamo, one of the performers and a fairly young man himself at the time, took Lilac in as a younger brother. Lilac had not spoken to him of his past, but Giaccamo was kind enough to accept him regardless. Lilac had gone on to take full advantage of the circus’s hospitality and would forget his family in the years that passed. Surrounded by clowns and jesters of all sorts, he aspired to find his own talent. He had tried his luck first with the acrobats, but he found that he was, although nimble, quite a clumsy fellow. The beast tamer tried his best, although handling animals proved too dangerous for a child. He picked up a few cheap tricks from Giaccamo, a magician, but the charm was ultimately lost on the child when he realized there was no actual magic.
In the end, Lilac had found his talent in juggling, specifically knife juggling. Of course, it took practice and many painful mishaps, but by the age of 10, he had become as proficient if not more so than any other knife juggler in the circus. The circus had then been travelling between the dwarves at Thonduhm, the elves at the Black Forest, and the humans at Barramsted. The circus was very racially diverse, containing elves, dwelves, and even half-orcs. When Lilac was 16, they had set out eastwards to the orc clans on the request and payment of a noble who seeked to promote relations after the war between the Alliance and the Pact had ended.
This expedition to the orcs had been the circus’s last trip. Unfortunately, a drunken chieftain had not very much appreciated coins being “stolen” from his ears. He had declared the circus to be a group of thieves, and they were subsequently enslaved, with the thief losing his fingers. Lilac’s hands were bound by rope as he stared at the night sky, wondering where fate would take him next. He had served as a slave for little over a year. Starting out, he had faced many harsh beatings as a result of either slacking off or simply being incompetent. Ultimately, however, the experience made him stronger both in body and mind. He had finally escaped one night with Giaccamo, who had been spending the year plotting their escape. Being a magician, he understood that any sort of deception works exceptionally with a proper distraction. Waiting for most of the orcs to sleep, Giaccamo had lit a tent on fire after much struggle with flintstones he had taken from the mine. The fire was quick to cause a commotion, giving the the two ample opportunity to flee.
As Lilac and Giaccamo exited the camp, an arrow had pinned Giaccamo’s leg. The rest of the orcs had begun to realize what had occurred, and their attention was now directed at the two circus performers. Lilac was very hesitant to leave his second family, but he was then reminded of his early childhood and knew that he could stay and die or flee and survive. The choice was not his to make, as the orcish archer had finished the job with a final shot piercing Giaccamo’s skull. And so Lilac ran once more.
Two years have passed, and Lilac is now 19 years old. He is technically unemployed and homeless, and he makes a modest living by performing in the streets. Despite less-than-favourable living conditions, he is content with his life as long as he can continue to perform, both because of his devotion to the craft and as a reminder of happier times.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each):
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
“Oh my,” Lilac says as his attention turns to the little pickpocket. Noticing a momentary split in the crowd as the child runs away, Lilac is quick to pursue the little rascal. As he runs, a grin creeps up on his face; Lilac is enjoying himself. However, after bumping into many people and tripping over many small boxes, he finds himself very out of breath. “You win this time,” he mutters under his breath not all too displeasedly as he resigns himself to a relaxing stroll, humming gleefully all the while. Lilac eventually returned to the more crowded venues of the city, juggling rocks with his cap set on the ground in front of him for people to toss their coins into.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Lilac remembers his time with the circus’s beast tamer, and if there had been one thing he was able to learn, it was to treat animals kindly. He rushes over to pry open the bear trap, sympathizing with the beasts. The consequences of this act ultimately fly over Lilac’s head, prioritizing the words of people whom he had considered family. There was no deep consideration, he was quick to act upon what he felt was right, oblivious to the fact that the wolf would likely bleed out and suffer the same fate.
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
I’ve been roleplaying for a couple years now, mainly through Minecraft servers. The most notable servers I’ve been on would be Haeriven, Alaurin, and Kaldor.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is forcing an action upon another character or making your character completely untouchable in an RP-Combat situation. An example would be if someone made an action that said “*I swing my sword at your neck, slicing it open and causing you to die*”
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Meta-gaming is taking information gathered OOCly and acting as if your character knows this information ICly. For example, if I heard about one character’s deep, dark secrets over Skype or through their character bio and then had my character talk about it, that would be meta-gaming.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Role-playing is taking on the role of a character of your own design and interacting with other people’s characters to create a story together.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Evangeline “Evie” Barlow
-Character race: Human
-Character gender: Female
-Character age: 30
-Character Occupation: Formerly the captain of a ship and a group of pirates, though was forcibly removed from her position. She has become rather knowledgeable at the act of sailing because of this. However, she is currently unemployed.
-Character description:
Evie gives off the impression of a fighter with how she keeps her appearance. She is quite tall at 6’2” and keeps her posture proper, never slouching. Her body type is lean and physically fit, looking like she could handle herself in a fight. Her hair is kept short, looking like it was cut this way by a dull knife (Which it was). She does, however, have two long braids that she keeps uncut. Her oval-shaped face has a few small scars from cuts, which pale in comparison to the remnants of scars she has on the rest of her body.
The way that Evie dresses is done with practicality in mind instead of style. She wears a comfortable black tunic, large belt, and fitting green pants. The only splash of personal style she has would be her boots, a simple black and silver pair. In addition, she wears a sleeve of armor on her right arm, specifically covering her shoulder and elbow. She would prefer to wear a full suit of armor, but that wouldn’t be ideal for an everyday outfit.
-Character personality and traits:
Evie is an admittedly self-centered human being with a short-temper to match. Having been the captain of a pirate ship for some time (And a harsh one at that) she has grown used to people following her lead. The mutiny that lead to her being kicked from her own ship has humbled her to a degree, but old habits die hard for Evie. The mutiny also has generated a certain amount of bitterness in Evie, as it's still a fresh wound for her. However, she is able to be kind and loyal to those she comes close to, so she isn’t 100% an irredeemably rude person.
-Character biography:
Evangeline Barlow was born at sea, so she sees it fitting that she lives her life at sea as well. Mr. Barlow, a common sailor of a fishing boat, was taking his pregnant wife for a ride on his boat when she went into labor. Evie’s parents always joked with her that she got her sea legs before her land legs, or that some of her first words were nautical terms. Evie had always loved going with her father on fishing trips and learning more about how operating a boat worked, though the little fishing boat could only keep her attention for so long. She always admired the bigger ships that she would see at the docks, and she knew she wanted to learn how to sail one of them someday. Her relationship with her parents was always rather close, and they both expected Evie to grow to become a fisher like her father. They were correct in guessing that she would find work at sea, but Evie dreamed beyond a simple fishing job.
Finding work was hard for Evie. She refused to settle for any job other than one on a ship, but no respectable ship captains would hire her with so little experience. So Evie looked for some less than respectable ship captains. She worked some connections and ended up becoming a rigger aboard The Red Wolf, a ship of low-life pirates. She was 19 at the time, and she then spent roughly the next five years working aboard this ship, saving her wages and working herself to exhaustion. Once she had saved enough, she bought her very own ship and began to assemble her own crew of pirates. She named her ship The Sea Ogre, finding it the perfect name to invoke fear in those who hear it.
Her crew was an assembly of whoever she could find in various bars and taverns who are willing to do dirty work for cheap, and as such they weren’t exactly the most trustable crew. Evie’s performance as a captain was, truth be told, rather poor. Not in the sense that she was an unskilled sailor, but that she was unreasonably harsh to her crew and wouldn’t accept anything other than their hardest efforts. This very quickly lead to her crew having a disliking towards Evie, and eventually that lead to a full-blown hatred of their captain. One night at sea, her crew acted out a mutiny against Evie, tying her up and dumping her at the docks of the nearest port. In the very least, they had the decency to not kill their captain. That was the last Evie ever saw of her ship, The Sea Ogre. Since then she has been traveling from city to city to look for work, all while holding onto a burning grudge and the hope that she’ll find her way to owning a ship and a crew again.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios:
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Evie was wandering the market stalls in search for a new pirate hat, as hers was lost when she was exiled from her own ship. She was just about to give up and head into the local tavern for the night when she felt her coins be robbed from her, quickly whipping around to see the child thief scurry into an alleyway. Evie gave chase to the thief, and with her longer stride she was easily able to catch up, grabbing onto the child’s shirt collar.
She hoisted him up into the hair, his small legs kicking as she sighs to herself. She had hoped the thief was just a dwarf and not a child, so she could at least feel morally justified in attacking them. However, this was a child, and a young one at that. She snatched her purse back from him, grumbling to herself as she plucked out a single coin and shoved it into the child’s hands. The coins were rightfully hers, but she supposed she wouldn’t miss one. She leaves the kid with that, walking back to find the previously mentioned bar, now slightly poorer than just moments before.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation, you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Evie grumbled to herself at the situation presented before her. She didn’t want to be the one to make the decision for this wolf, but it didn’t seem like anyone else was around to do it. She knew that the wolf wasn’t going to make it. Even if Evie was able to free the mother from the trap, she would likely bleed out or get infected from the wound. Evie figured there was only one thing she really could do, which was to give the mother wolf a swift death instead of this prolonged one at the hands of the trap.
She took a deep breath, sliding a knife from its sheath. Evie wasn’t particularly new to bloodshed, but it was usually in self-defence that she did her killing. The wolf wasn’t fighting back. Evie couldn’t help but look away as she took the wolf’s life, refusing to look at the pups as well. Once she was done she stood, wiping off the blade in the nearby grass before returning it to its sheath and walking off. She didn’t want to profit from the wolf’s pelt and decided to leave that to whoever may stumble across the scene at a later date.
Extra notes: I understand there is a rule against having a character start off as important, and I was slightly afraid that making Evie a former captain of a pirate ship may be an issue with that. I wouldn’t expect it to be, as it isn’t like anyone would know of her ship and she isn't even the captain anymore. However, if it is an issue, please tell me.
----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN: CPRox100
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): yogrox100
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
I have been roleplaying since July 2013, some server examples are: Haeriven, Uthrandir, Panlong, Hollow World, Alaurin, Trials of the World, Aethier and Horizon.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power gaming is essentially keeping your opponent from being able to cause your character harm, or keeping them from being able to react at all. Examples:
*The Orc's battle axe deflects off of my armor, what? It's not OP, I'm not powergaming, halflings just have strong armor!*
*I push you off the cliff.*
*I swing my sword at your leg. No, there's no way you could sidestep that even though we're in an open area, you have to take the hit, it's the rules.*
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Metagaming is taking knowledge gained out of character and applying it in character, example:
A: Yo, dude, Alzamar is kind of getting beat up in the tavern, I know Freya is out of town, but can she come back and help?
B: Yeah sure! She'll bring some bandages and healing potions too, you know, for no reason in particular.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: The act of playing a character for the purpose of watching their story unfold. Roleplaying is somewhat like acting without scripts (AKA improv)
----IC Info----
-Character name: Cora Pearl Arduenna
-Character race: Half-Elf (High Elf/Human)
-Character gender: Female
-Character age: 25
-Character Occupation: Cora does not have many occupational skills due to her wealthy upbringing, she didn't see the need to learn many crafts. However, she was an exotic dancer/courtesan for a good five years up to this point.
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.): Cora walks with her own brand of confidence and suavity with the purpose to show off her long legs and swaying hips. She stands at about 5'10", and for all intents and purposes, is a beautiful woman. With her morning beauty ritual, she is able to cover nearly any flaw on her face or body, she clearly takes pride in her own appearance, as it is her belief that nobody will find her attractive until she finds herself attractive. Her half-lidded amber-coloured eyes bear curling black lashes, her eyebrows are carefully plucked and her rouge carefully applied. Her dark hair is quite thick, and curls down just past her shoulders. She has a small variety of dresses that she was able to salvage, though her favourite is a low-cutting scarlet number, accessorized with a pair of pearl earrings and an onyx ring.
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.): Though Cora has physical beauty in abundance, this does not always transfer over to her personality. Though she is a charismatic woman and often tries to charm her way into the hearts (and pants) of others. Despite this, she is often more selfish than not, trying to manipulate others to meet her whims and her wishes. She's quite a greedy woman when it comes to money, and is also quite opinionated and occasionally abusive with her own beliefs/prejudices (classism, occasional racism). She's also quite the partier/alcoholic, and is prone to bouts of disassociation or depression due to trauma in her childhood.
In layman's terms: Looks hella, is actually a terrible person 90% of the time.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences): Cora Pearl was born into the wealthy family of the Arduennas after her father, merchant Silas Kyler Arduenna, had taken himself a human mistress despite the marriage to his elven wife, Seraphina. He had commanded that the family raise the child the human girl had birthed nonetheless, as she bore great resemblance to him, and he concluded that nobody would be able to tell that her ears were simply a bit more petite than usual.
Cora received minimal affection from her mother in her early years, but an abundance from her father, who would shower her with as many gifts as the little girl pleased. Any doubts from the rest of the family over her legitimacy as a true Arduenna were washed away after charming her way around the family, though her mother remained at war with herself: She could care deeply for the child she was raising, but love her? Never.
The years flew by, and when she was around ten years of age, her father decided that she should have a tutor to give her as good of an education as a child could have as he often could not be there to give her one himself. Though Cora did learn a lot from said teacher, there was always something about him that made her uneasy. He'd get too close, breathe down her neck, rub her shoulders in a way that felt a little too sweet and caring and sometimes she would wake up alone in the room with her stockings balled up in the corner on the other side of the room. She told no one about these incidents for fear of being shamed or hurt.
The man's misdoings were eventually found out by her mother, who had walked in on an event of her mistreatment. Though her tutor was promptly fired and publicly beaten for his crimes against the family, the young Cora found that she was often not herself, disconnecting from reality every now and then or wandering aimlessly. Though she was but a child, when she was to go out with her family or even a few of her friends, she could hear the whispers.
"That child seems naturally *****-ish, she likely seduced the man without intending to."
"What did that family think was going to happen if they put her in dresses above the ankles? Poor thing..."
"She's already beginning to take shape, she should have been more careful to avoid it, if you ask me"
Through her many years beyond that, she warred with herself over the incident, accepting their views and blaming herself over and over for what had occurred, more tutors were lined up for her, though all were notably female. She was eventually sent off to a private women's school by her father to learn trade and finance, around the area of said school was also where she met her first proper pet, a small alley cat that she did not bother to name, but took in with loving nature. She also began certain 'affairs' with a great deal of her fellow students, though a proper career didn't exactly come about until she was twenty.
On a specific night of drinking, she allowed a slightly older man to take her off to another drinking den, wooing her with cakes and plying her with alcohol, this did lead to certain 'intimacies' later on in the night. When Cora awoke, she was alone in a rather luxurious room at an expensive inn, with a small sack of gold lying next to her. After graduating from her school, she made the acquaintance of Laura Borelle, a human proprietor of a notorious pleasure establishment, The Argyll Rooms, a combination of bar, dance hall, and women for hire, it provided private alcoves and rooms where couples could retire for aforementioned 'intimacies', and she soon vacated her single room and moved into a suite at the pleasure house, becoming Borelle’s mistress.
Her career as an exotic dancer and mistress took off, attracting the attention of several aristocratic men and women, who became her frequent customers, all of which contributed to the opulent life that Cora demanded, often lavishing her with expensive jewellery, gold, and her most famous gift, a seaside cottage.
Though it was not without consequence, her family discovered what Cora had made of herself, and despite her fame and renown as a courtesan and exotic dancer, she was disowned in an attempt to save the family's reputation among those they traded with. This seemed to begin her downhill state of events. Her bouts of depression became more frequent, and she turned to drinking. During one such event of intoxication, she revealed to one of her elven clients her true race as an elaboration on the topic of her mothers distant nature. News of this quickly spread, and many of her clients dropped her and the pleasure house itself. After a time, Cora took her fortune to travel at sea, relying on her own fame to gain her a job in other lands, though it was not to be. The ship she was travelling on was raided, and her fortune all but taken from her (save for a few dresses, a smaller sack of gold, and her cat), leaving her without much means to pay for anything. She has, since then, been travelling to the closest city she can find, in an attempt to get a job and perhaps start her fortune once again...
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each):
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Cora had been in the midst of a purchase, a new bracelet to be exact, when a dirty young urchin bumped into her side. With a small yelp and disdainful look to the child, she gave a small scoff and went to continue with her purchase.
Though oddly enough, she felt an unfamiliar lightness on her left shoulder when she went to reach for her coin bag, and an unfamiliar sense of dread when she felt that it was not there. Her red lips parted to emit a distressed scream as she whipped around to see the urchin racing off with her purse. Pointing a finger in that direction, she shrilled to the crowd, "HELP! HELP! I'VE BEEN ROBBED! SOMEBODY STOP HIM!"
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Cora glances to the trapped wolf, feeling a twang of pity for the animal. Cats had always been her preference, but animals were all dumb, though she found it easier to maintain an emotional connection to pets over people. After all: Animals were not capable of reason or manipulation. Wolf skins had never exactly been something she'd enjoyed wearing, and leaving the mother there would certainly end in a quick death...
She sighed, taking cautious steps forward to grip the edges of the trap and tug them apart. The mother whined and yelped, limping quickly off with the rest of her cubs. Cora estimated that with a leg wound that deep, she would likely develop an infection. Perhaps it was only a small extension of life, but it could at least buy the cubs some more time.
Extra notes (Optional, could include theme songs, pictures, etc.):
Playlist:
Face Claim: Krysten Ritter
Voice:
Only fill out below if you want your character to have magic capabilities. If you don't fill this out, then your character will be incapable of performing any form of magic. Note that it will take significant in character practice and experience to become any form of proficient in magic.(We only accept high quality magic applications!)_______________________________________________________________________-Magic Biography; Explain the reason you want your character to have magic through backstory application: (At least three extremely well-crafted paragraphs. You must describe to us why your character can use magic, what drives him to further his ability, how he learned that he could use magic, and what benefits magic brings to this character, what type of magic they’ll strive to use, etc. This is not a middle school paper! I will not accept applications that say “My character got my magic from x, and he wants to use it because it’ll help him! Also for RP!")-Please give an example in your own words describing the limitations placed upon those who use magic (This should be at least one well-crafted paragraph):-Please give a description of the magic system in your own words:-You are given a weak trinket of <blank>, you haven't had much practice with magic yet, but you will try your best. Describe some things you could/would do with this trinket:You start with one aspect only. You gain the rest of them (How ever many your race may have) of your own choice through further RP, however you will not be able to attain them immediately.Could you maybe add an AppleMan Race?
Thanks, I'll redo it once I get a bit of spare time. I did read the lore (though obviously not well enough) and I wasn't sure if the opposing magics would be an issue.
Accepted
Thank you for applying to our server! Kaius sounds like he'll be an interesting character to interact with.
Server IP: 192.99.20.170:30352
Texture Pack: http://resourcepack.net/conquest-resource-pack/
Website: http://therealmofsaphriel.enjin.com/home
Pending
While she may have been from a wealthy familiar, It's incredibly unlikely that she would be nobility and a half elf as most would have her sent away or killed at that time, She may have though just came from a rich merchant family. Otherwise, everything about the application is wonderful. This should not be confused with Cora. She seems quite dastardly and may be in competition with another female character on the server for the most manipulative! Anyways, thank you for the application it was a great read.
Thank you!!! I just edited it now
ACCEPTED
The changes you have made are acceptable! We hope to see you on the server soon.
Server IP: 192.99.20.170:30352
Texture Pack: http://resourcepack.net/conquest-resource-pack/
Website: http://therealmofsaphriel.enjin.com/home
----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN: Random_9001
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): therandomkid321
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example? Yes I do, Over the past year I've played on four roleplay servers one for eight months. For an idea of how much time I spend on the servers I often find myself spending over half of my waking hours online... I... I have a life!
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is a way of forcing things to go a certain way in roleplay most often for the perpetrator's gain. This often includes making characters who are far too overpowered in one or many skills which often pushes the boundaries of realism. It's also commonly performed in roleplay fights in ways that make your character take no damage or forcing damage on the opponents character, another example would be a character who's been drugged showing no reaction to said drug.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Meta-Gaming is making your character know things they have no way of knowing in roleplay often used with information discovered OOCly in Skype. The effects of this can range from minor annoyance and immersion breaking to a whole scenario being somehow discovered by a character who had no part in it. The common place for meta-gamers to get their information is skype from information given to them by their friends OOCly.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Role-playing is a hobby or pastime where a person creates a character and plays through scenarios as them. This can take many forms such as roleplaying over forums, in games, certain boardgames, and even real life get togethers with other people interested in Role-Playing know was Role-Players.
It is also a good way to escape the crippling pain of everyday life...
----IC Info----
-Character name: Altis Joanne
-Character race: Dwelf
-Character gender: Male
-Character age:20
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Artist
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.): Altis Joanne is petite as Dwelves tend to be, he stands at a mere 3 feet of height and 33 pounds in weight, certainly what you'd consider a meager physique. His face is smooth, his race robbing him of any facial hair growth, with thin lips naturally curved into a soft smile. A thick layer of oily, poorly maintained hair drapes down theback of his head, the dark brown strands of hair curling in a wild and unpredictable fashion which often hangs over the top of his face which his wide, expressive green eyes poke through, his thin eyebrows often hidden by his hair.
From the right of his head his pointed ear protrudes from the jungle of hair, though his left ear sits hidden by the strands as it never developed properly, leaving him with an misgrown ear. A deformation which has had minor a effect on his hearing but a larger effect on his self esteem, he tends to keep it hidden by his hair for that reason. Overall he looks quite juvenile, he could be easily mistaken for a young child.
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.): If Altis was to be summed up in a singular word that word would either be "ambitious" or "abnormal". His personality is a obsessive one, often latching onto small concepts or ideas which consume his thoughts. When it comes to being social his behavior is certainly that of an outcast, this being fueled by his upbringing his social skills are near non existent which leads to people getting annoyed, angry, and even saddened by his words. Though this is not something he desires, he wishes for people to be happy and understanding, and despises conflict with a passion.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Altis Joanne, a ******* child raised by his dwarven mother Brenda in a small village a short distance from an Elven city, a place where, dure to his race, Altis would never find full comfort it. Though the village had a residency consisting of various races due to it's location it had a large number of High-Elves residing among the residents, High-Elves whom many would see Altis as impure and would judge him for nothing more than his race. This was the reason he was mostly kept hidden away during his younger years, living with his mother at the inn she owned.
Altis' first memory is one he holds dear to him, it doesn't include parental care nor does it include horrific violence. It's simply a memory of him in his crib when suddenly a cat jumped up into the room, it clambered into the cradle, rubbed against him, before turning and hopping back out. In the journals he has kept throughout his life he gives an insight into the obsession he has had with this simple memory.
"Why?" He wrote. "Why me? Why that action? Why did it leave so quickly? Perhaps it was startled by something I could not see, and that's why it ran. Or maybe it was in search of something and after observing me came to the conclusion I was not the source of whatever it was looking for. Perhaps it chose me, maybe I have some sort of natural connection with cats. Maybe none of those things."
Growing up Altis never had a proper education though he was taught to read and write by his mother to help around the inn. His mother kept him supplied with books, though none were of an educational purpose. He certainly had a desire to learn, almost as soon as he could talk he was hammering his mothers ear with questions about everything, he was often less than satisfied with the answers however. He took his education into his own hands. "I need no education." He writes. "Educated people learn only what they are told, things they then go on to teach. What if the educator is missing something? It won't ever get taught, it's just an endless cycle of misinformation. If there's something the educated people miss I, and others like myself, will be the ones who find it."
He never was good at conversation which did not help the already strong hatred towards him just because of his race. He was bullied for as long as he could remember, either by Elven kids who have been taught hate by their parents or just by kids who would rather not be seen as sympathizers towards poor Altis. He knew this was the reason, it was one of the few things he felt no need to question. This is referred to in his notes. "Cycles... everything's a cycle of one sort or another or at least has the potential to become one. I have become caught in a cycle, a cycle of hate for reasons above my own control. I envy those who ridicule me, to be able to accept what you've been told without even a hint of question. Their minds must be so peaceful."
The weight of the world would soon make Altis crumble if he did not have something to distract himself with. Thankfully he has just what he needed, and he had been doing it since before he could speak. Art. Something he had been gifted in. Art worked well as a getaway from him, as it took from his obsessive nature to observe anything and everything just like he drew everything and anything. He spent hours a day sketching whatever he felt like, often spending hours on simple details in each sketch.
Upon reaching the age of eight he began working in the inn, mostly spending his time away from patrons in the cellar or cleaning rooms. Though he never liked it. He quickly found out that the short time he would spend with his mother would be outweighed by how violent and angry alcohol can make people. He preferred his time in the wilderness, watching and observing in the comfort of solitude.
Altis' life generally though, was uneventful. He started realizing another fear dwelling within him, the fear of being forgotten. Since the age of fifteen this fear slowly haunted him until it was too much to bear. He brought it up with his mother and she agreed to let him travel. Altis fears what lies ahead, but he holds his hopes high that he will find, or create, a good life for himself.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each):
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Altis blinks, coming back from his thoughts as he realizes his predicament. A soft frown folds onto his face as he turns, looking for the culprit before catching eye of the child slipping into the crowd. He hesitantly follows him, breaking into a slow sprint as he made his way through the crowd. Eventually he found the culprit, seeing him using the money to buy a blanket. Altis frowned and looked over the boy again, quickly noticing by their clothing that they were poor, very poor. Altis reached into his satchel as he approached the boy, tapping him on the shoulder and handing him a peice of bread before walking off, feeling somewhat anxious about his choice.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Altis looked over the sight, paling slightly at the blood coming from the wolf's leg before quickly rushing over to it. He freed the mother and takes out bandages, using them to bandage her leg. He quickly set up camp and lit a fire to keep the wolves and himself warm. Suddenly he heard someone approaching, he immediately assumed it was the hunter. Unsure of what he'd say or do he ran away, hoping to avoid any confrontation.
Extra notes (Optional, could include theme songs, pictures, etc.): I finished this off quite late so I'll understand if there's anything wrong with it.
----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN: TheBioverse
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): TheBioverse
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
Alongside two years of experience on MassiveCraft, one year of which I was a Moderator and continue to act as such. Aside from that, I’ve had 2-3 years of experience on other Minecraft RP servers.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: The act of performing an emote in conjunction to a reasonable situation by which a selective player(s) overpowers another player(s) from an out of character standpoint, i.e. instakilling or not allowing a reaction to take place.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: The act of using out of character information to influence in character decisions, typically to the advantage of the offender.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: The act of playing out the personality and role of a character that is not yourself.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Israh Amon Amirmoez
-Character race: Human
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 36
-Character Occupation: Israh is more freelance than anything else, resorting to anything between theft, conning and merchanting to scrape together enough coin to pay rent and feed his opium habits. Due to his many years of travelling, Irsha has picked up a number of trades - though regrettably, he has mastered none.
-Character description
Body Description
Israh holds a lean, chiseled build, standing at a towering 6’2”, and is around 175 lbs. He shows no physical disabilities, and his frame is lean and thinly muscled, due to his many years serving as both a soldier, explorer, and finally due to his generally active recreational lifestyle. Despite his mostly balanced strength, more of his ability lies in his legs; more accustomed to maneuvering on the battlefield, with his arms used to cast. His martial training however attends to his arms as well, allowing his body to flow almost like water even in the heat of battle.
Hailing from the sandy deserts, Israh’s skin tone is a far darker shade of brown when compared to most Humans. His skin is home to a number of scars received from battles and skirmishes past fought. However, most of his attention is paid to his body - adorned with ink patterns and Arabian scriptures. Obsessed with his physical impression on others, Israh keeps himself well groomed, with only a thin layer of white fuzz present on his arms, and chest.
Head Description
Israh’s face is fairly triangular in shape, ended only by a sharp chin. Sporting a prominent jawline, his cheeks and eyes are defined and prominent - clearly the result of a selectively bred Qadir bloodline.
Israh’s image is typically enigmatic, sporting anything between a light smile to a playful frown. His passive expression however is neutral and calculating; observant to a high degree. His golden eyes, often giving off a shimmering glow, only boost his menacing glare.
While Israh keeps his face cleanly shaven, with more space for his ink and tattoo, Israh’s hairstyle is greatly reminiscent to his early military short cut. Israh’s extended experience with the military has only further increased his preference towards short, parted hair - often even short shaved. Oddly enough, the few times Israh has attempted to grow his hair out, the static produced from his regular magic practice would only ruin the strands. Long hair is a fire hazard, and the countless battles fought against mages have taught Israh that much.
Israh wears a few rings on both hands, typically switching it up every odd day. He does not exceed over wearing three rings on each finger however, whilst sporting a pair of earrings on each ear, alongside a pair of golden studs. Finally, Israh sports a labret piercing underneath his bottom lip.
Clothing and Accessories
Israh sports a what would be known as a ‘Sherwani’ in Arabian Culture - a well embroidered, long flowing tunic reaching his knees, sewn from long lasting and equally foreign textiles with silky trousers to match. Atop all this however he garners a velvet sash, draped across his torso. Clearly the product of some substantial or stolen wealth, Israh makes a strong yet shady image for himself. Israh’s isn’t attached to any of his accessories apart from their typical value, and infact sports a number of jewellery items such as rings on both hands, a golden necklace coupled with its lean collar, following the Arabian fashion trends despite his new location.
-Character personality and traits
Israh’s attentive nature, born from both his extreme paranoia and numerous years served in the Qadiri Military has served him exceptionally well in the harsh and dangerous environment of the desert. However, it is further fuelled to extremely paranoid levels due to his shady business ethics.
Charismatic to a controlling degree, Israh’s talent of coercing others through sheer charm and word of mouth have only aided in propelling his career in Merchanting, blessing him with exceptional ability to manage his travelling Souq.
A trait born from many lax afternoons playing chess in the local town square, Israh discovered his analytical nature at the early age of ten, displaying keen interest in solving his problems with only the sleekest efficiency. Where once he utilised it best in board games and gambling matches - counting cards and chips, he now uses it to improve his business ventures and explorations.
With his cunning nature only being nurtured and fed by his Mother, it’s little surprise that Israh utilised it not only to bring fortune to himself through deceit and evasion, but went on to squash what prosperity others around him possessed - his rivals especially.
Raised to be deceitful and untrustworthy, accomplishing numerous feats through his unlawful tactics, Israh is without a doubt dishonest. Having succeeded for the majority of his life through illegitimate means, dishonesty is a common tool Israh employs in his day to day practices.
Amoral without reserve, Israh was born in such an environment. While Israh does acknowledge the concept of right and wrong, he perceives the two as both a limitation - one he can not afford to be tied down by. Viewing himself as ‘above’ the mundane Human, Israh does as he pleases without need or justification, should he feel like it.
Manipulative by habit, Israh takes joy in twisting the thoughts and emotions of his ‘puppets’ to serve his own needs and purposes - or simply for the necessity of entertainment to himself. While he is prone to manipulating Souq customers and even allies, even his own family is not exempt from his puppetry. Israh’s control over others, his family especially, is firstmost psychological. If pushed however, the Arabian nomad is all too eager to enforce physical punishment.
Envious due to his heritage of ‘eat or be eaten’, Israh is compelled to ruin or take for himself what good fortune others hold dearly to themselves, unnaturally driven towards it, despite his success. The thought of those below his stature and power retaining otherwise wholly prosperous lives is sickening to him, often leading him to wreaking any kind of havoc to lower their stature. Nobility are typically the first targets of his seething envy.
-Character biography:
Amidst the confines of a luxury barge, surrounded by only her closest of devotees and followers, Israh was born on a day like any other - hot and humid, with only the circlet of nearby medics to ease the burden of birth on his mother, Reisa. Granted, she’d had many children up to now. There was little she was left unfamiliar with. Israh’s father, a Merchant Baron by the name of Hasad Amirmoez would pay the price of his son, to settle the debt of influence that rose him to the prestige he languished at now - a price easily paid for a man with numerous wives and consorts. As such, Israh was raised solely by Reisa - moulded by her control, into a tool for her own pillaging and securing power.
A cruel, lonely childhood was the only childhood Israh knew. Isolated from other children and coerced on a day to day basis, Reisa made sure to bleed her son dry of any humanity he held for those around him. His resentment only grew over the years, and the only salvation he saw was his Mother - his idol and Goddess. She was all he knew, and that’s exactly how she wanted it. Tearing Israh away from his humanity was simple enough - there wasn’t much to purge to begin with. And at the ripe old age of ten, Israh had killed his first man at his Mother’s command. The grip of a leather bound dagger was the only toy he had, after all. Killing a man was just how things worked. Naturally, Reisa always had complaints. Every. time.
At the age of twelve however she’d decided to have Israh and a number of other young children tutored in the heavily violent art of dagger combat alongside even hired Orcs - aiming to produce deadly warriors to send against the various Merchant Barons encroaching on her territory. Due to the lethality of the art however, many of the students perished. By the end of the first year, only a handful remained standing; Israh included. Being Reisa’s son, Israh found ease in neglecting his morality, easily surpassing those students who fought by his side.
Granted, with each year passed, Reisa’s grip on Israh only loosened further and further. However, she was no stranger to Israh’s apathy, having sired many children of his nature before him. She lulled him with her wiles, cooing him with tales which captivated and motivated him - tales of power, destruction, carnage and domination. As Israh learnt more and more about the sheer potential behind combat, he couldn’t help but grow overjoyed when pitted against Reisa’s enemies - activities he once saw as chores to complete became activities to prove his strength and ability. All too eager to follow in the Cult’s footsteps, Israh even practiced the ways of alchemy, poisoning and explosives, as was common to the cult’s practices. He wished to please Reisa, his mother - the only role model he’d ever known. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
Israh soon realised that he was simply one in a dozen; a tool to be disposed of when exhausted. It was too much for the young Israh, slowly being driven mad by his developed power. He swore to carve out his own destiny, duping the his mother in the process. Years passed, battles were fought and won, with only the stench of charred meat and bone left as reminder. By the young age of only twenty nine, the talented Arabian had mastered his blade in its entirety. By this point, Israh had begun to invest his time in more alchemical activities, dabbling in the ways of poison making and other elixirs to better serve him in battle.
Soon after this, he escaped the clutches of his Mother, instead seeking out his father - curious as to the nature of the man who’d taken part in creating him. In all earnest, Israh was disappointed by the bulbous mass of flesh and gluttony his father was, quickly claiming the opportunity to extort the man out of his attained wealth. Having approached his father a feared soldier and war hero, Israh promised comfort and peace; should his father hand him what was rightfully his - the entirety of the Amirmoez Family and Syndicate. Israh was intent on writing his own fate, no longer eager to serve as a pawn in his Mother’s schemes. A heated exchange followed, ending with Israh usurping his place as the Patriarch of the Amirmoez Family.
Taking numerous years to travel the world, learning more of people and places, not to mention animals of all kinds, Israh finally returned to his Mother. While he hadn’t expected much of a response, save for punishment, it was an unexpected surprise to receive praise from his Mother - even in his forties, he was a child at heart. It was then that Reisa instructed him on his next assignment - to charge blindly into the latest battle, most certain to cost Israh his life. Outraged, Israh set out into the world once more - with little more than a healthy horse, a leather pouch of food and water, and a sum of coin enough to carry him to new lands, leaving his Mother’s Merchanting Empire in the dust. These days Israh wanders as a lavish, enigmatic and otherwise silver-tongued rogue, living life as it presents itself. Having lived according to a plan, creed and rules all his life, Israh now acts as a man of his own right, doing as he pleases in any new land he encounters, still eager to discover more and more of what the Realm of Saphriel may offer.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios:
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Israh’s day was a typical one - spent smoking opium and chatting up women. He’d hardly even noticed the crowd forming about him, though the experienced rogue did catch the jingling of his coin purse as a scruffy child bolted into the crowd - with Israh’s otherwise tranquil day turning to one of displeasure. Cursing his luck, the rogue chased behind the ever eager street urchin through the shadows, vaulting over crates, barrels and around various people. And yet, give the opportunities to do so, Israh never caught the boy - instead allowing him to lead the rat to its nest. Arriving into the shadier part of town, Israh drew his dagger, following the unwitting child into his hovel. Waiting for nightfall, the arabian rogue heard the chorus of cheering, excited children, alongside chatter of amassed gold and possible food for all in their infested nest! Israh simply grinned to himself, slipping into the den. Though he did lose the sharpness of his dagger to that of tender flesh, bone and blood, he did leave five times wealthier than when the day had begun - and, an urchin’s hat! Granted, it was a little bloodied, but Israh wore it with pride. ~
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
There was no moral dilemma - the wolf would soon die regardless, and despite all other contributing factors, Israh would return a hero for slaying the wolf, all the more richer for selling its hide. Drawing his dagger and drawing a leather pouch, that’s exactly what he did. The pups resisted at first, scared and confused within the burlap sack as eventually awoke from their individual concussions. Israh pawned them off to an ever eager client within the local Black Market, earning far more than he expected for the runts that would no doubt soon perish without their Mother. The pelt and Wolf’s head however was another case entirely. Strutting the decapitated Wolf’s head on his belt, Israh was rejoiced as a hero of a village, having bravely sought out this tyrannous wolf and ended it despite the grave cost to his life! Or, so he claimed. The pelt sold exceptionally well, after much haggling with the local disgruntled Hunter, with Israh squeezing a great deal more for the authentic Wolf’s head. Riding off on his Horse, Israh left the small, woodland side village a far richer man than he’d expected. Life was easier when one didn’t conform to the chains of morality and consequences.
Pending
Thank you for your application! It was a fun read with a wonderful character.
We just want to make sure that sixteen is the age you would like your character to be. Since he is a Dwelf he would be reaching Sexual maturity in his early twenties and adulthood at about thirty-five
Accepted
Thank you for your interest in Saphriel. This was an excellent application that was very enjoyable to read! We are looking forward to seeing Israh in-game.
Server IP: 192.99.20.170:30352
Texture Pack: http://resourcepack.net/conquest-resource-pack/
Website: http://therealmofsaphriel.enjin.com/home
Thank you for letting me know of this, I'm still uncertain exactly of the ageing but I guess I'll change his age to twenty. Assuming that should be around puberty age?
----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN: Rain0611
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): devilynn4
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
Yes, I have played on many other servers, such as Erecia or Asmalur. Most of these servers were shut down, sady. I have also roleplayed on other platforms; forums, and such.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words:
Power-gaming is to do something that your character would not realistically be able to do IC. It could also be taking control of another player’s actions.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words:
Meta-gaming is to take information you have learned OOC and to use it to your benefit IC.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words:
Role-playing is to act out the personality and actions of a character that has been created by you.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Everia Faelyn
-Character race: Half-Elf
-Character gender: Female
-Character age: 22
-Character Occupation:
Everia has been studying as a healer from an early age, due to her mother.
-Character description:
Everia stands at a height of 6’3, shorter than most High-Elves due to her human blood. Her skin has olive undertones, much like her father’s. Her eyes are set deep under her strong brow bone, dark brown flecks married to lighter hues, accented by the dark circles below. Long, brown lashes frame her almond-shaped eyes. Her cheekbones are set high in her face, and her jawline sharp. Tendrils of soft brown hair falls down her back, tied with a piece of string. A band keeps her hair from falling into her eyes. Her small, pointed ears poke up out of her hair, accessorized with small gold rings. Her petite pink lips form many different expressions, from a playful smirk, to a frustrated scowl. A rounded, button nose sits above her mouth.
She has a lean build, with well-rounded curves. She’s agile, with long, muscled legs. Her movements are smooth, seeming to look as though every move is thought out. She wears a forest green robe, tied together with a leather belt. Beneath her robe, she wears brown shorts. On her sizable feet, she wears comfortable leather shoes that slip on and off with ease. On her hip, she sports a small pouch, used to carry coins and other small trinkets.
-Character personality and traits:
Everia is a bright young girl, curious about how the world works. She can be stubborn, strong-headed, and easily agitated - though is a sweet person, if you stay on her good side. Often times, she’s compulsive and makes decisions without thinking. Impatient, she becomes quickly annoyed.At times, Everia is proned to bouts of depression,
-Character biography:
A modest tavern sitting on the side of the street was lit up, light pouring out of its windows. Inside, the atmosphere was happy and thunderous. Men and women were laughing and chattering with one another. Sitting along the bar, a young Elven woman exchanges smalls smiles and jokes with a dark haired man. Getting up, they make their way out of tavern, their drunken laughter echoing. The next morning, the Elf woke, rolling over in bed to find the other side empty.
Myrrh was always shameful of Everia, almost humiliated by her daughter. Though she cared for Everia, she never seemed to love her. After giving birth to a half human daughter, she was disowned by her Elven family, and treated like a lowlife by many other High-Elves.
Everia grew up with her mother in a small cottage. Inside, there was a room separate from the rest of the house, where Everia’s mother worked as a healer. By the time Everia turned 7, she was Myrrh’s apprentice, tending to wounds. She watched her mother use skill and magic to heal sick and wounded, deciding to become a healer also. When she was not helping her mother, she was outside.
Everia was a curious, adventurous child. Due to her affinity for nature, she often times wound up in the forest outside of the city. She and the other children would climb the trees and race each other, zig-zagging through the branches. Her best friend was a Half-Elf named Arun. Arun and her were always together, often times staying at each other’s homes. Many thought that they would become romantically involved as they grew older, but they stayed only close friends.
Reaching the age of 16, Everia realized exactly what High-Elves thought of Half-Elves. She was treated lowly by many of the Elves who lived in the city. She assumed that the High-Elves were better than her, though tried to ignore it.
She moved out of her mother’s cottage when she turned 18, losing all contact with her. She moved into Arun’s home, and continued down the path of healing. She’s curious about Saphriel, and eager to discover everything she can.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios:
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Everia pushes through the crowds, making her way towards the inn she was currently residing at. She sighs, her aching feet pushing her to get home. As she reaches the markets’ exit, she feels a small hand snatch her coin pouch. She whirls around and spots the small child. She immediately takes off after the child, her long legs allowing her to quickly catch up to the street rat. “Hey! You there, boy!” She catches his wrist tightly, taking her coin pouch back before releasing him. “It’s not polite to take what does not belong to you.” Her upper lip curls, aggravated at the inconvenience of having to chase after the boy. She watches the child scurry away as she returns the pouch to it’s rightful place at her hip.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Her eyes take in the pitiful sight of the injured mother and it’s cubs. She quickly leaned down to examine the wolf’s leg, whispering nurturing words to the creature. She pried the trap apart, taking a good bit of her strength. She stood up as the wolf began to lick it’s own wound before stumbling off with it’s young. She knew that there was a high probability that the wound would not heal, but she hoped that the cubs would be able to manage without their mother by then.
Minecraft IGN: Cyshadichu
Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): cyshadichu (pretty much the same name for everything)
Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?: You can say my whole life has centered around roleplay. I’ve rp’d on forums, several Minecraft servers (featuring Asmalur and Alvaeron, the most prominent ones), D&D, LARP, Skype, text message, and various other mediums. Minecraft, however, has been the most enjoyable platform for roleplaying by far.
Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming refers to giving oneself an unfair advantage without logical or considerate means. Examples of this include: controlling another character’s reaction, bending the rules and limitations in one’s favor, not giving an opponent an opportunity to react, and overpowering your character without roleplay reason or development.
Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Meta-gaming refers to taking information out of character and applying it in character; essentially, it’s granting knowledge to one’s own character that they should not have any logical reason to know. Example include: taking info off of character profiles, taking research off the internet and instantly knowing the information [rather than taking time to have your character emote their pursuit of knowledge], and alerting friends/people OOCly to find/save you from a situation.
Define Role-Playing in your own words: Roleplaying, RP as it is commonly abbreviated, is the act of assuming a role/character with a fictional world. Nearly all video games incorporate a form of roleplaying by placing players in the perspective of a predetermined character or personalized avatar. Roleplay often brings creative minds together to write and worldbuild in tangent in order to create a story, and better yet, an experience.
Character name: “Keletheryl” (real name is Gregory Black)
Character race: Human
Character gender: Male
Character age: 11, child
Character occupation: Technically N/A, as he is still a child and not employed in any set occupation. He has, however, been introduced to the basic training that comes with apprenticeship as a pageboy that would later lead on to being squire, but his experience has only thus far reached the early stages of servanthood and light sparring. Although being a child, Keletheryl still displays skill in managing survival on his own and would have generally taken to small, menial tasks and favors with little pay just to persist living. His behavior can be found quite entertaining (or pitiful) at times, allowing him to thrive off the occasional good nature in people.
Character description:
Standing at 4’11” and equipped with a youthful audacity within his blue eyes, Keletheryl normally appears as a naïve and energetic child. Despite his efforts to maintain good hygiene, his unkempt brown hair and loose clothing imply that Keletheryl is not an entirely tidy individual. His clothing and aged, grey boots all seem too many sizes too big for him, allowing for more growth as he ages. He seems to sport a childish habit to play pretend, with his mannerisms supported with a “costume”, which consist of a black blanket with golden colored stripes worn much like a cloak—Cape of Destiny, as he calls it—and a white, flat leather mask that lacks facial features; a rather eerie feature of this mask are the reddish-brown stains that stream down from the eye sockets, a dark contrast to the stark white of the plain design.
His slender and underdeveloped build clearly present his young age—the thin and slightly boney stature with extremely pale skin implying malnourishment. While lacking in muscle mass, Keletheryl manages his survival with decent strength fueled by optimistic determination. In most situations, he favors agility over brute strength and is well accustomed to dashing around in spurts of energy. Even though his attire often hinders his mobility, Keletheryl insists on wearing his “costume”. To logically hold all his belongings, Keletheryl possesses a sturdy, brown pack—common equipment for an adventuring spirit.
Character personality and traits:
If there were to be one word to describe Keletheryl, that word would be c̶h̶u̶u̶n̶i̶b̶y̶o̶u̶ “quirky”. His manner of going about things is often immature and exceedingly hyper. One of the most prominent aspects of his personality, that of which being his excessive imagination, leads him to believe what is arguably a delusional perception of the world and himself. Often does he address people and mundane objects by made up titles and mixed in phrases from other languages in an attempt to drag them down into such delusions. Though habitually making claims of demon spores and possessing the powers of a supposed “fallen angel”, Keletheryl appears pretty harmless and rarely engages in combat. While mostly seen as childish and delusional, Keletheryl infrequently passes a hint that suggests that he knows a lot more than what he originally lets on. One may consider that his fantasy may be a mere game of “pretend” to cope with fear and a constantly over-paranoid state of mind. Upon being seriously questioned about the severity of his delusions, Keletheryl would insist that the images, thoughts, and senses that haunt him and cause him to sputter out nonsensical ramblings are all just the work of an overactive, youthful mind.
As far as Keletheryl’s intelligence goes is highly up to debate. His experience of the world seems quite limited without an adult understanding of life, and his perspective can be easily swayed, especially by those who play along with his games. However, few instances show that Keletheryl has a deep love for literature. Books, poetry, plays, short tales, studying, acting… name it all and most likely Keletheryl will have a heyday. With his vocabulary actually being quite extensive, if not a little pretentious, it doesn’t strike as much of a shocker. He’ll often incorporate uncommon phrases and terms into his unique vocabulary, whether or not it actually makes any sense. Sometimes he would jumble up his words and create obscure slurs to accompany his unconventional and dramatic manner of speaking (thee, thou, thy, hath, etc.).
Typically, Keletheryl would speak out with a loud and dramatic projection. Yet, in spite of his bold façade, the boy still possesses shy and slightly introverted characteristics. Every so often he won’t be the first to speak, preferring to stick in the background and watch the world move on without him. Sometimes he’ll stand outside someone’s window or even trespass upon property just to amuse his curiosity and interest in “the mortal realm”, showing the more questionable side of his sense of morality that defines him. When he knows he can do nothing to stop a fight or other sort of conflict, he’ll find himself just watching rather than helping. Surviving often does not allow one to be completely selfless and morally upright, resulting in Keletheryl’s resort to petty thievery if his life depended on it. While he’ll mostly only pursue food, the boy is no stranger to taking random, interesting (at least, in his perspective they are significant) objects should the opportunity present itself. In spite of his manners and sporadic cruelty, Keletheryl attempts to overall present himself as a “good” person.
Character biography: (( The first part is written more clearly and is meant to describe the actions of the family, while the second and third halves are written to be more quick and vague within Keletheryl’s persepctive. Otherwise, this will take foreverrrrr to readdd if I made it too long… If you prefer that I remain consistent and write the biography in a specific way (straight chronological, story, the creepy second person style, etc), do say and I’ll change it))
Part 1
Winter, a few years before the war between the Pact and the Alliance came to its end… The child had been born to the noble family of Black, which had come down to its last, very few members over the course of time. Those early years, the child was welcomed into a world that would soon be set upon recovery once the war had met its conclusion. Garrett Black, the father, had served with the Alliance as a knight before a crippling injury to his left leg dismissed him to return home to his dear wife Madeline. In the years before Garrett’s return to the household, Madeline had been cared for by the servants of House Black, due to being affected by a peculiar condition earlier on in her life. Often would she speak to walls and portraits, with claims that she heard the voices of heaven and hell in her walks within the gardens. Rumor had spread back then that her mother, an illusionist mage, had cursed her daughter into such a state by overexerting her magical proficiency during pregnancy. Her weak body gave out and withered away at Madeline’s birth, leaving Madeline with her only surviving family member, her aunt Gertrude, to raise her. Despite her condition and the judgement she faced against those that believed her to be crazy, Madeline managed a relatively normal life, having become a nurse for wounded soldiers during the long and bloody war. It was in a nursing tent that she had met her husband, whom showed unconditional love towards her and accepted the oddities within her behavior. They had married in the summer and one day decided to pass on the Black family legacy before Garrett left once more to aid the war effort.
While the family did indeed feel blessed to birth a seemingly healthy child, Madeline’s condition only worsened as she aged. It initially started as a forgetful neglect of her baby before progressing into a deep depression. Concerned for his wife, Garrett employed a nurse maid to take care of the infant while he, himself, endorsed all his time towards improving Madeline’s mental state. Slowly, her behavior had begun its shift. Garrett and the servants thought the only logical reason for her degrading state was that she had felt affected by the war, which had nearly ended and gone into the next phase of demons by the time Madeline’s condition came to its culmination. She had come to obsess over small discrepancies in life, such as a discolored rose or a crooked painting.
She doesn’t need you.
The worse of her condition led her to believe that her own child was the spawn of a demon. The delusion came suddenly on a spring’s night, when Madeline had asked to see her child. She was smiling for the first time in months, her hollow face filling with color on that day. That whole day, she loved her child. She cradled him, sang, and told her stories of her own mother, showing the child the hand mirror her mother had left for her. Nobody knew what caused Madeline to turn that miracle of a day into a nightmarish memory. Before the sun began to sink down into the hills, Madeline’s screams echoed throughout the household. Garrett limped to the nursery, nearly dropping his cane in his hurry, to find Madeline’s hands around their son’s neck. She shrieked, thrashed, and cried while her son was on the verge of dying by her own hands. The crippled man managed to separate Madeline from their child with the help of the nurse. As soon as his wife was brought back to the master bedroom, Garrett moved back towards the nursery to check on his son. On his way, he came across a shattered hand mirror, which had been thrown out into the hallway. Garrett immediately recognized it—the mirror from Madeline’s mother—and leaned down to pick it up and return it to his wife, forgetting about his young boy within that moment.
You don’t need them.
The nurse read a book to the gasping child in bed on that night, sharing the story of an eccentric adventurer named Keletheryl. The story was written in a mix of common and—oh dear. At one point, the child started to cry, prompting the nurse to give them a soothing hug.
“What’s wrong, mon enfant?” she asked calmly, hand delicately moving to straighten the pillow for the poor kid’s neck.
You said you weren’t happy.
“Do not fret about that, mon enfant… Just.. be someone’s who’s happy, yes? Don’t worry anymore, little Gregory… Your mother.. she… she just has an interesting condition. She still loves you, mon enfant… She loves you very much.”
With the opening of the portals that unleashed the demons upon the realm of Saphriel, Garrett had begun to worry about how his boy would train under a knight’s apprenticeship, since he had been disabled and thus unable to carry about teachings and demonstrations for his own son. With Madeline’s condition, his schedule was far too busy to ever have time for the child. Still wanting the best for his son, Garrett sent a letter to a former acquaintance of his, asking if they would take on the child for an apprenticeship as a servant and later a squire. With his old friend’s agreement, it was decided that the child would leave home and live in Sir Lysanthur’s keep for his training at the age of seven. The years seemed too few to count by then, but Garrett worried more for his wife than he did for the child….
Part 2
“Aren’t you excited, G̼̻̗̮̭̗̎̎̌̓ͪý̝̮̦̯̼͔̘͎͑̓̅̒̈́͘͞r̡̯ͫ̒͗̃ͤͥe̴̢̫̱̝̹͔̳̺̖̋̔ͥo̴̰̟̹̺̩ͮ̏ͪͧ̋͒ͬ͟g̢͈̝̟̯̠̎ͭ̔̆̊̀̕r̴̭͍ͯͫ̓̽̽͐̂͟?My little boy is growing up too fast already! You’re going to be a noble knight one of these days!”
Put down that book, give the nurse a joyful grin. Leap from your seat and give her a big hug!
“I’ll miss youuuu!”
Yet, if you lose a grasp on real life in this fabricated world, you might never return. It can’t be that bad, right? It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.
Pace down those large, empty halls. Let your imagination dance.
The Black Knight of Nights threw his torn hood over his head as he continued down the corridor. His mind clouded with thoughts of the recent battle, where blood and limps flew through the savage air. The Angels of Light would soon fall to the hands of Darkness, but now was no time to celebrate. They would not admit defeat that easily…
“Keletheryl!”
“y̢͓̘̻͇̹̏͑ͫ̋ͤͥŗ̵̪̤͍̲͈̱̮̟̓͐̽͒ͯ̎̎ͅe̻͚̼̥̞̋̐̐͢g̶͎͕͓̱ͤ̾͂̍͆̉̾̓̚G̓̔̆̿̂ͦ҉͘͏̝ͅrͦ͗ͥͬ̉ͣͪ̈́͏̗͜ȯ̀͏̴̫̞͔̤̭̗̯̭̩͜!”
“For what reasoning must thou leave this place, when the Darkness must rest their wounds!”
“Where are you going, it’s almost bed time for you!”
“The images of war plague thine own mind, Serpent Servant. I must stroll about the lands, least my strength will always be held.”
“I’m just going to walk aroooounnnnd, pleaaaaaase? I can’t sleeeeep…!”
“Understood, Knight of Nights.”
“Very well, young master G͆̋ͪͨ͆̅̈̔ͤ҉̹̦̼̮̮̭y̪̳̜͓ͯ͒͗͟r̽͆ͯ̐ͤͨ҉̺̥̹̺̹͉͇̕ͅr̸̢̲͈͎͖̯̖͇̜ͦͥͨ͋ͨͩ͋̚̚͞ḛ̗̞ͫ͐͂͗̋̓͢g̢̫̮̀̏ͪ̌͊̒̅ͪ͒o͇ͧ̓̽̿͛.”
The demon flew through the night skies, taking in the chilling air. This world… Soon it would be engulfed in pitch black, and all shall know it was brought about by the power of the Dark. The Black Knight of Nights focused his attention upon the Lake of Resting Spirits and descended quickly to the ground. He stood by the edge of the waters and stared down his reflection. Looking up, he saw the moon and all the stars above.
Imagine a world in complete darkness… A world without the Light… A grin would come upon the dark angel’s face.
“Such beauty in the everlasting night…”
Suddenly, a noise. Bushes rattling, sticks breaking. Turn around and there…
…stood the enemy, an Angel of Light. She smiled at him so calmly and held up her Holy Lamp. Her feathered wings outstretched and surrounded him with blinding light that matched the powerful light from her lamp. The angel’s thin, pale lips opened, and her heavenly voice began to speak…
“H-hi…”
The two of you meet eyes as a silence overcomes you, your faces illuminated by the light of her glass lantern. You recognize her, somewhat, the girl a little older than you from that household your family keeps scowling at. Already you know that your families absolutely hate each other, butting heads constantly as rivals.
But looking at her…
The one you’re supposed to hate…
You’re one in the same.
Light vs. Dark.
Black against White.
And to her, you say, “Hi…”
You like to play with her often.
The Black Knight of Nights and the Chosen One often flew together by the Lake of Spirits. They told their tales of war and shared their spoils amongst each other.
Sometimes she plays the same game.
The angels clashed their blades, evenly matched against each other. The Sword of Cursed Wood and the Sword of Holy Bark. Sparks and spirals of Light and Dark dance around the two in the heat of their intense sparring.
Meeting together in the moonlight. It would be so romantic and cute if you weren’t just a kid stuck in a fantasy. You don’t think anything of it, but you know you like her as your bestest friend!
Why must your families be so torn…?
You don’t ever want to say goodbye to your only friend. You know you’ll have to one of these days, when you have continue on your own path.
Saying goodbye is the hardest…
You need to find a way to stay.
“Keletheryl’s strength hath diminished after this last battle.”
“Aww, poor boy… You just rest tonight, okay? Feel better soon. Remember, you’re going to have to be well and fit if you’re going to be a knight one day! Ohh, I wish you didn’t have to go this week… Might have to stay here for a little while… And you were so excited about it too!”
And then you sneak out.
Just a few more nights.
But one night, you’re caught.
You tell him what you’ve been doing. It’s the only thing you can do.
“Keletheryl, the traitor?! Dancing in the moonlight with an Angel of Light!”
“Nooo, she’s my frienddd!”
“The Darkness dost not associate such relations with the Light! I shall inform the Higher Demons of this! The Black Knight of Nights hath been sneaking out of this Dark Palace, sharing such secrets with the enemy!”
No, they’re going to find out.
The Black Knight of Nights grew cold. Before the older demon could spread out his wings and take off from the cliff…
…your hands push out in front of you.
Down the cliff.
Tumbling down those steps.
Reach the sharp rocks below.
What a horrible crack.
Nobody knows. Nobody. He just fell. He was old.
“Chosen One! I hath decided to fight with you, for the sake of the Light!”
“You need to go back home, y͇̤ͨ̽̀̔͝o̡̪̟̯̼͔̬ͭ͐̇̊ͬ̔̚͘r͔͔͚̠̣ͩͭ͑ͧ̈͂̓̄̊͜r̶̮̞̗̫̩͖ͣ̓ͤͫ̓̋̒͢G̷̴̛̦͚͊̒̆̌ͩg̴̫͇̺̠͌͊͆̚e͇̝̞͎̼̖̦ͭ̍̂́…”
“I do not wish to be one with the Darkness anymore… I wish to be with you!”
“Our families hate each other! Don’t you get it?! We were never supposed to be friends…”
“I-I hath already fought against the Dark. Keletheryl is…a traitor…”
“Thou must go, Black Knight of Nights. Thy can never be one with the Light, nor shall thy live with the Dark once more. Thou must go…”
“I didn’t mean to…”
“The Dark will never forgive thee. Leave, never return. Never let me see thy face again, demon.”
“I’m sorry…”
She gives you her lantern. “That’s enough of this stupid game… Just…grow up…”
They still never found out what you did.
Now you have to leave home. Be a good little boy. Then you’ll be a knight one day.
The Black Knight of Nights was cast out from the Dark in the days that proceeded. The Chosen One sealed away his soul into the Lamp.
That was the end of the Black Knight of Nights.
Grow up, little boy. It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.
Part 3
You can’t keep crying.
You can’t keep denying.
You know what you did.
You demon.
Grow up little boy. Grow up! You have many things to do. Do it for the Keeper! Do it to become a knight!
First minute and you’re too quiet. You put on a smile that hides the horrors within.
But when you’re alone you cry.
Second hour and you’re almost all settled in. He tells you what to do, what to wear, and how to behave with all the others doing the same.
But your nightmares cause you to wet the bed.
Third day and you've been scolded. You don’t tell them all why you’re so scared of the stairs.
But you know just exactly why.
Stare down at your hands. Are they covered in blood? They should be, just to show everybody what you did. Guilty… Guilty…! GUILTY!
Why can’t they see that your guilt is eating you? Never forget that crack. Never forget that image.
He doesn’t know why you’re always hiding, always crying, always denying.
“No, I didn’t mean to!”
It’s all routine now.
“Shut up, r̴̛̩̘̜̙̿̑ͫͥ̾͒͒̂ͥ͟g͚̥̹̟̳̜͓̍̓ͨe̢͚͕̤͓̳ͯ̔̎̍̒͊̚y̴̹̥͔̼͉ͭ̎̀ͭ̿͊̀̚ỏ̶̭̀ŗ̧̺̖͙̭̼̮͕̋ͥG̶̏̀ͯͫ̓̂͏̯̜͈, just shut up!”
You’re so annoying that they even try to shove you into a separate room.
Wake up on your bed. Sheets are wet. Eyes are red.
Were you screaming? Did he hear you again?
It’s dark in this room… Let the Light shine..! Take the lantern from the side and let the flames ignite. Hug the Light, cling close, admire how bright…
And fade into memory…
“Keletheryl and Arkaith! The Black Knight of Nights and the Chosen One! An alliance only the Stars hath fabled!”
The Chosen One allowed for an amused smile to form across her face as she watched the Black Knight of Nights cry out to the dark skies above.
“Oh, Black Knight of Nights, must thou speaketh so loudly? I still hath the need to restore my strength after such a battle…”
The demon turned to the angel, his face peeling back to reveal a sharp row of teeth. “Keletheryl can take this vulnerability as a chance to strike and finally extinguish the Light!”
She merely chuckled in response. “Keletheryl is too much of a coward to commit such an act against whom that he considers his acquaintance.”
“N-Nay, the Black Knight of Nights is brave!”
“Heehee… Prove it!”
The Black Knight of Nights’s wings outstretched as he leapt from his position. “I shall prove such bravery with—“
Loud thumping on your door. No, no, he heard you again… Please don’t—
“Ḡ͚͈̯̼͙̾g̴̨̣̼̫ͫ̅̊̃̒ͦ̒̎͂E̳͚͋̓̓͜ṟ̛ͤ͂̀̔̐̎̽̾̇͜O͈̦̅͂͘͘y͍̪͎̠̤͔ͧ̂̊ͯ̓͒́R̰̘̩̺̻͔̯̳̬ͦ̆̾ͬ͐ͪ́͜”
Don’t cry. That only makes him angrier.
But you cry anyway.
The Keeper bursts through the room, a bottle in his hand. You cling tight to that lantern as his arm swings up high.
Good night.
A month and you’re still haunted by your past sins. But you learn to try and hide it. You need to, otherwise they’ll all laugh at you. And then the Keeper will be mad at you. And then your head will hurt again.
Did you wash the clothes yet? Good boy!
Did you help with dinner? Don’t forget your other chores!
Did you practice sword-fighting with the others? You’ll be a true knight one day!
Did you finally stop being a crybaby? No, didn’t think so. Point and laugh at the baby. Now stop crying. Stop crying. Please stop crying now or he’ll—
Alone again. Calm down, soothe your headache. Does it still hurt? Not as much? Good. Pick up your book, let out a sigh, before losing yourself in another world…
The hero turned his body towards the large beast, eyes wide and mouth gapped as the creature let out a terrifying shriek. Its hooved feet scraped against the stone floors in its wild dash towards the man. With his body filled with adrenalin, the hero raised his sword and stood his ground. He searched for any place to swing his sword and end the beast’s rampage once and for all. It all became clear to him as his eyes studied the rippling flesh of the creature’s neck, noting how such an injury would cause the beast to bleed and writ—
Alas, your fantasies are spoiled again. They yank that book out of your hands and tear up the pages in front of you. They just want to see you cry again.
And of course, you do. Silent tears fall on your guilty hands.
You stare at that rat running around the kitchen. It’s your turn to catch it and put it back outside. Set the trap again. Balance a plank over the edge of the table, a piece of cheese at one end, and a bucket underneath it all to catch the rat when it falls! Now to wait a bit. Wait a bit more. Maybe a little bit more… Any day now!
Finally the rat fell for the trap. Looking down into that bucket, you see how vulnerable it is. So much trouble from this small beast.
Then your mind trails back to that story you were reading. The need to finish it eats you alive! Since you can’t read it anymore…why not recreate it?
Take a knife from the kitchen, pull the bucket along outside, put on those gloves and grab the rodent by the throat!
The hero stood before the beast, his sword hovering just over the creature’s neck. He watched it squirm in distress, for it knew that its own end was near. An eager smile grew on the hero’s face as he dragged his sword over the area, letting the beast’s blood pour out onto his hands. The beast choked in agonizing pain before growing limp as life left its beady eyes…
You got in trouble for playing with dead rodents that day. Bad boy.
You went to bed in a bit of a daze with your head throbbing in pain again.
Good night.
Half the year flies by and nothing seems to change. Your bedsheets still stink and tears still fall. If anything changed, maybe it’s that you don’t seem to mind it all as much anymore.
Did you clean the weapons? Make sure not to cut your fingers again next time!
Did you help the Keeper arm himself? Very good, you know your stuff!
Did you make sure to feed the horses? They wanted to say thank you!
Did you finally stop being a coward? No, didn’t think so. The Keeper locked you in the dark room again, because you were too slow to bring him another. It’s dark in here and you’re already begging for him to let you out, but he only calls you a coward. You’ll never be a knight if you’re not brave. Stop crying. Stop. You have no lantern with you to ward off the darkness that surrounds you. Please stop crying for your sake.
Breathing filled my ears, and I knew it wasn’t just mine. I stumbled about blindly in the dark as the breathing grew louder and louder, before turning into an ear-piercing scream. My feet failed me as I tried to make my escape. I fell against the door, heavy gasps of air leaving my lungs. I pounded against the locked door with aching fists. In that moment, I wanted to get up and fight against the other presence in the room, but all I could do was sob and plead for the door to open. And to my surprise, the door swung open. Light poured into the room as I looked up at whom I believed to be my savior…before I realized it was my damnation.
You remember curling up on the floor. His stinging breath of fire keeps screaming at you, calling you everything you already know you are. You look at them all staring at you with your dizzy eyes. A world that keeps spinning and spinning and spinning…
Good night.
You don’t know this yet, but this is your last year.
Nothing seems to have changed still. Bed still wet. Head still aching. Hands still shaking. Guilt still building. Tears still falling.
Even though it was all a year ago, you still fear the dark. You cling much more tightly to your glass lantern, carrying around the dim light with you nearly everywhere. They mock you for guarding the light with your life. Sometimes they lock you in the dark room again with only your light, leaving you in there until the fire inside finally dies. Then, obviously, you begin to cry.
One time the Keeper pulled you aside. He said he didn’t want to see you crying anymore. You know what happens if he sees you crying. You must hide your face from them all. And you know just how to do it.
A white mask with no expression. It reminds you of the Black Knight of Nights. Behind it you cry silently with renewed confidence! Success! They don’t see you crying! They don’t seem to care about you with the mask on!
You’re smiling on the inside.
Then night falls, ending your successful day. You had a nightmare. Clean the sheets, hurry up, wipe those tears! Put on the mask before anyone sees you cry and light up a candle for your lantern.
You carry the messy sheets over to take them to the washroom, absolutely giddy with newfound strength. Will it finally get better now? After you wash off the sheets, you wrap yourself up in all the thick blankets before heading back to your bed to go sleep.
But turn that corner and face your fears, little boy.
“You’ve been wearing that mask all day. I already told you that you need to grow up.”
It’s the Keeper. You don’t say anything and only hug your lantern tighter.
“Take it off already.”
You don’t. You’re too scared to move. And if he sees you crying now…
“Why aren’t you listening to me?”
You can’t hold back the tears.
“And that damn lantern! Why do you keep carrying it around?”
You’re too choked up to speak.
“You need to grow up, Gregory. It’s been a year already and I’ve had enough of this ********. All this crying and all these fantasies…”
He takes a step closer, reaching out his hand. “Give it to me.”
You shake your head quickly in protest, causing his face to grow more intense.
“What game do you think you’re playing? Give me that bloiting lantern right now!”
When you still hesitate, he rushes at you and takes it forcefully from your grasp. He yanks out the candle and throws it at your feet.
“Now take off that damn mask and go back to your room!”
But you just stand there frozen in fear. Can’t move, can’t do anything. What a coward…
“What did I say?!”
And you only mumble your words. The Keeper tears off the mask from your face and tosses it to the ground, ridding of the barrier between your terrified eyes and his intense glare. He’s angry now. Without his usual choice of weapon, he lifts up his arm and swings the fragile lantern over your head.
Halt the tears that leak from your eyes. Show no weakness.
He hits you again and again with the lantern until the glass cracks.
Rise up off the floor. Be a true brave Knight of Nights.
Even then, he still keeps swinging, shattering it completely. It hurts more when the glass slices through your skull.
Does he want to kill you?
There’s blood on the floor.
You feel like you’re going to die.
The world clouds with black.
This can’t be it, right?
…Right?
The Ousted Knight of Nights hath awoken on the night the Lamp hath shattered. Finally… Finally part of his soul hath been freed…
The demon awakened, stirring suddenly with shards of the Chosen One’s Holy Lamp surrounding his mortal form. He had not been asleep for very long, as the moon still peaked in the dark sky. His fingers dragged through the blood pooled around him, becoming once again familiar with the blood that had been shed in the fields of battle. The fallen angel struggled to his knees, head spinning. It felt as if several, sharp, tiny horns pierced through his skull. He lifted up shaky fingers to run through his mortal head of hair, wincing in pain at every cut. Even if the Ousted Knight of Nights were to fall again from his wounds, he knew what he had to do.
He crawled to the Mask of the Knight’s Sorrow, carefully placing it over his head despite his aching weakness. He dragged his bloody fingers over the mask, creating tear-like stains under the mask’s two black lines. His own human blood continued to steam down his face as his fingers felt around the ground for a big enough shard of glass to hold in his hand before staggering to his feet. The Ousted Knight of Nights leaned heavily against the walls as he moved along in a daze to the beast’s chamber.
Pass by a mirror on your way to bring the Light. You look into your reflection...and all you see is my face. And you embrace it with tears.
At last, the fallen angel’s small child form reached the large doors of the chambers. He pushed at them, letting them creak open for him to slip through. How he hoped that the Keeper inside did not stir at his presence… The Ousted Knight of Nights trudged forwards, wide eyes staring at the beast as it slept. For all these years had it kept him still… All these years that he hated... He came upon the sleeping creature, taking the shard of the Holy Lamp over to the beast’s throat…
Good night.
Epilogue
You shouldn’t have come.
She doesn’t need you.
You don’t need them.
You’ve lived on your own for three years now.
You had to run, live on your own.
You can’t let them know.
…Or you will surely die.
They’ll hang you in the square.
It’s a good day to hide….
Go back and hide!
Hide…
Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios:
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child grazes you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Keletheryl stood in a trance-like confusion before the realization struck, his heart sinking in his chest. He
removed the mask upon his face and(Keletheryl would never do that, I have no idea why I put that in) stretched out a hand—as if that would help catch the culprit—before he stumbled forward, breaking out into a chase for the other child. Gritting his teeth, Keletheryl charged in pursuit, moving as fast as his heavy legs and tired legs could carry him. After a whole day spent within the market, he had nearly been drained of all his energy. With the circumstances of his situation, a shot of adrenaline re-fueled his body to keep on moving. Neither a shout nor a cry left his throat, as the boy found it best to save his breath for his rival. The experience was all too familiar to him: every man for himself. Though his eyes were locked onto the thief, his mind had drifted elsewhere. He thought of his own sin, the struggle to survive in a corrupted world. Like many others, his being was impure. Would his own dark soul ever meet the wondrous radiance of Light, with the way his mortal life was? Would he ever aid in the—His thoughts were cut short when he ran into a woman packing up her stall. She lectured the boy for a good thirty seconds before Keletheryl exclaimed, “The Ousted Knight of Nights hath a calling to heed! He must suspend thy trial and continue about his quest against the Hands of Sleights!” and ran off once more, only to have lost sight of the child due to the small diversion.
In light of the situation, Keletheryl tightened his fist and struck a dramatic pose amongst his breathless panting. “C-cursess… the… bleh… the Hands of Slights hath bested Keletheryl once againnnn.. Alas, tis indeed a discouragement, but thy dark matter nay shall vanquish the spirit of this mortal entity…!”
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Perhaps it was pity that lead him to act. Having never owned a pet before, Keletheryl found animals to be quite a fascination within the mortal world. Living, yet not what one would automatically define as sentient. Sometimes he thought the birds spoke to him, singing songs to decorate his life with beautiful music. Other times he would play with the rats they had caught in the cellar, using them as a means to create stories and tales about the timid creatures. Yet, a mother wolf and her pups proved to be a far more amusing sight to the young boy. At first, he merely stared. He watched them for quite a time, listening to the lamenting whines that screamed in their throats. The boy knew the situation and understood it well, acknowledging that he had no involvement in the life of the animal. He could have left right then, moved on with his existence, but he didn’t.
It was the pity that caused him to act.
Keletheryl fished inside of his pack for a piece of dry meat and cautiously placed it in front of the pained wolf in an attempt to distract her as he looked over the trap. She averted her attention from the bait at first, stressfully panting as she tried to drag herself away, before giving up and resting her muzzle on her paws. She didn’t even touch the treat. As the boy tried to pry open the trap, the pups kept their distance, sniffing coyly at the air with uncertainty. Every few minutes, the wolf would jolt again in an effort to escape, nipping and thrashing at Keletheryl despite his efforts to help. Eventually, he too gave up, unable to free the wolf on his own.
“I cannot help thee…” he muttered, backing away from the sorrowful sight. Silence overtook him for a moment before his exclamation passed through. “I… Keletheryl shall find another with the capability to bring aid!”
He gave the mother wolf and her puppies a brief, concerned glance before turning towards the town and hurrying off to find anyone that would bother to help the poor things…
Extra notes:
I’ve played this character before on another server, but never achieved a sense of closure with the guy. I hope to be able to play him again, and this time give him more opportunity for advancement whether it be that he becomes an actual knight or an illusionary mage this go around (last time, he became a blacksmith, but that’s a whole other story).
I made drawings (one with the mask, one without): http://imgur.com/a/ax8Sj
Also, it was Thovian who referred me to Saphriel and I’ve become so invested that I read/skimmed over all the posts on the enjin forums. I quite like how everything is fleshed and hear from Thovian that there’s even more to discover on the server! I hope to find myself accepted so that I may explore it myself.
Only fill out below if you want your character to have magic capabilities. If you don't fill this out, then your character will be incapable of performing any form of magic. Note that it will take significant in character practice and experience to become any form of proficient in magic.
(We only accept high quality magic applications!)
_______________________________________________________________________
Magic Biography; Explain the reason you want your character to have magic through backstory application:
Do you remember the mirror?
“My mother… She’d given me this mirror in her will before her passing, Gregory,” Madeline explained to the curious child. Gregory looked up to his mother, an easily awestruck face on his naïve expression. His mother looked back into his wide and amused eyes, her faint smile reforming on her face as she turned the face of the mirror to reflect the both of them. “That’s me… and that’s you…!”
Gregory smiled at the two reflections within the small space and waved his hands at them. “Hi, me! Hi, you!”
“No, no! That’s not their names, that’s us! Silly boy…” Madeline chuckled, her hand moving up to pat the boy’s head. While she smiled for the moment, her expression slowly started to dim. With her eyes trained upon the mirror, she started to space out, her mind turning into sludge. Gregory’s insistent poking failed to break through the barrier that locked up his mother’s consciousness.
“Mommm…?” The boy tilted his head and looked into the mirror when suddenly his mother’s shuddering voice spoke out.
“My mother… she speaks to me sometimes… She tells me—she tells me I am just as powerful as her… I can hear her, right now, yes! She says… she says I should have been the one… I should have received Bothimir’s blessing… I should—I should have!... Me… I could have been special… I could have been like her…”
“I think mommy’s special…” he muttered. No matter how loud he spoke, his mother often didn’t hear him. Not during one of her fits. Gregory’s attention drifted back into the mirror—no, it called for him!—and let his fingers reach out the touch the clean surface of his reflection. The touch made him feel drowsy, sick to the stomach. It was as if the mirror-Gregory drained out all his energy... The urge to yawn built up, yet not even the corners of his lips twitched. He wondered why he felt immensely sluggish all of a sudden. And then a crack in the mirror formed, shattering the image of himself. He blinked slowly and nodded up his head, staring straight across from him to see what looked like a little boy—no, another image of himself appeared in front of him! He looked across and saw himself, as if he were looking through a large mirror that suddenly appeared in front of him. This Gregory, however, didn’t move. It didn’t blink and only stood stationary. Gregory’s jaw dropped and he pointed forward, trying to alert his mother of his new copy.
When she saw it, she screamed. The woman practically threw the child out of her lap and pried the mirror from his hands. She threw it out into the hallway, her panicked breathing never slowing.
“No! It can’t be, can’t be true! NO! NOO! Please, not my son…!”
Gregorry looked up to his mother, his face frozen with terror. “M-momm..?”
“Shhh! SHHH! Do not speak or else the—AAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Madeline grabbed her son by the neck and lifted him up, her breathing growing rapid. “A demon… A-A demon.. hath spawned within mine House of Black… I shall—I SHALL—expell theee…!”
The world around him faded into an ugly black.
How long ago was that?
Keletheryl watched from behind the tree, its bark peeled from years of its service in providing itself as a target for practicers. His eyes were set upon a group of mages, displaying their talent and progress with small tricks from what looked like a variety of jewelry. One of them turned a coin blue, while another made a floating orb of light dance around their small circle.
To Keletheryl, the mere craft amused him, yet it was the display of the illusionist within the group that he felt drawn towards. They created a small image of a bird in their palm, letting their friends see the creation before making it shift into a black cat. His thoughts strayed toward all the fantastical images and projections he could create, his mind racing wild with ideas. A sharp, searing headache drew him out from his thoughts, the sluggish feeling coming over him once more. He looked across at the illusionist’s bracelet, feeling ever more drawn towards the object. For a moment, he thought it was calling him, as if it were leaching away his roaring imagination and pulsating with an ecstatic draw.
In his daze, the magi noticed him staring and turned their gazes to him, calling out to snap him out of his trance. Keletheryl blinked in confusion before slinking back behind the tree and into hiding. As he turned to leave, the longing feeling soon faded away with the distance between him and the trinket. He begun to think of all the things he could do if he could utilize that power that seeped into the trinket, of all the worlds he could create… People would be able to see the things they could never see before, and they could witness the wonder of his constant stream of imagination! They could watch in wonder as his creations put on plays or recited poetry for them, or better yet, witness the glowing radiance of the Light! They could see the angels and the demons, all the demon spores, too! If they didn’t possess the true-sight for it, he could just show them through the illusions he could bend…
Everyone surely would be able to play along better.
Please give an example in your own words describing the limitations placed upon those who use magic:
Magic proves itself to be quite a dangerous and taxing craft to take into practice, requiring extensive training and an appropriate trinket of the precise aspect and power in order properly utilize. The dangers of using a weak trinket for magic beyond what the trinket can handle can often be detrimental towards the user, with either the caster being harmed or the trinket being destroyed in the process; likewise, using a trinket without moderating one’s own abilities can lead to overexertion and completely drain one of energy (sometimes resulting in death!).
Please give a description of the magic system in your own words:
The magic system on Saphriel is presented in a rather unique format, with there being no explicit spells necessary to hone the craft. Instead, the magic system is based upon namely three factors: (1) magic potential, (2) trinkets, (3) experience. While currently unknown how one gains magic potential, it can be speculated that they are born with ability or have been exposed to certain conditions in which their power has become apparent. With the magical potential in mind, mages use trinkets as a medium to channel this potential. Trinkets vary in power levels from weak to divine, with the highest of these tiers being the rarest and most able to allow a mage to perform an extremely powerful feat. As well as this, trinkets denote certain types of aspects that mages may use for a particular type of magic that corresponds with their own specialty (water mages with water aspect trinkets, etc). When a trinket is overloaded with an amount of arcane energy that it cannot contain being channeled throughout it, possible damage can occur, of which either harms the user or the trinket. Mages also must keep in mind their own ability and experience, as they too can tire after overexertion of their power. Thus, the importance of practice and many years of mental training are heavily stressed amongst mages expecting to consider themselves masters within the craft.
You are given a weak trinket of <illusion>, you haven't had much practice with magic yet, but you will try your best. Describe some things you could/would do with this trinket:
Due to Keletheryl’s age and frankly his inexperience with the concept of magic, he would be largely unable to utilize his potential and the trinket’s power to its fullest extent. He would, however, pick up on a vague connection with such a trinket, more so than the many mundane objects he over-exaggerates the value in. Upon letting his mind grind its gears and excite, Keletheryl could possibly unintentionally create a vague image before him of something he is familiar with, yet still find a “fake” kind of quality to the projected illusion (mostly due to the fact that it cannot move and he can’t touch it). With the idea of creating the fantasies within his mind and making them into a reality that everyone can visually see and experience, the boy would attempt to practice more with the weak trinket to create more imagery, further tiring and straining his own mental constitution and possibly even breaking the trinket should he overload the thing. It is quite likely that he would end up severely hurting himself if he were to pursue magic without guidance.
You start with one aspect only. You gain the rest of them (How ever many your race may have) of your own choice through further RP, however you will not be able to attain them immediately.
I’m expecting that this aspect, in this character’s case would be illusion, would be a rather weak and raw form that I would excitably enjoy possibly expanding upon via roleplay. Gives more open possibilities for how this character will develop, but currently, Keletheryl would possess little knowledge about real magic.
----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN: lilac_1
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): ak10itoh
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
I have played on Minecraft RP servers (ones I remember: Asmalur and Mel-Lenxia) and a few D&D campaigns with some minimal experience with forum RP. One character I had was Akio Itoh (skype name) who was a blind man serving a royal elven family as something of a bodyguard/butler/retainer/manservant. I had set chunk rendering to be as low as possible to create that feeling of "blindness" and my RP with him mainly involved him getting into mischief (unintentionally IC, definitely intentional OOC) because of his lack of sight.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is moving the RP in a direction without the consent of the other members. It can involve making a character’s actions extremely unrealistic and taking control of someone else's character.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Metagaming is using knowledge obtained OOC and using it IC.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Roleplaying is taking on a persona that is not your own, however similar or different. As the word itself implies, it involves playing a role and acting, and maybe even thinking and feeling, through a fictional character’s perspective.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Lilac
-Character race: Human
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 19
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Knife Juggler / Performer
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Lilac is 5’9” and a little on the scrawnier side as a result of not eating very much. He has narrow brown eyes and messy black hair. He has very prominent cheekbones and his face comfortably fits into a childish grin. His attire consists of a sleeveless cloth tunic with a cloth rope belt and cloth leggings. He wears a small white cap (almost like a kippah).
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
Lilac outwardly appears to be a very jovial person who simply enjoys joking around. People that spend more time around him might notice that he as a little off and might be too happy all the time. In truth, Lilac is simply uncomfortable with more somber tones. He is not necessarily an idiot and can understand people’s feelings like an average person would, however he prefers to keep a smile and continue to jest. He will try to avoid combat whenever possible.
Lilac has no form of education and his general knowledge of the world is wanting. He is also illiterate. He is good accuracy at throwing small objects such as knives and is arguably one of the best jugglers Saphriel has ever seen, a skill which he had honed for most of his life.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Once upon a time, there was a group of likeminded madmen and madwomen who had left their urban homes with the belief that the world was plotting against them and that the demons would be their salvation. These misguided pilgrims headed to the northeast to settle by the Jagged Mountains. Once they had arrived, they were fortunate enough to happen upon a man who had actual knowledge of dark magic. The man taught them how to summon a demon so they could worship it.
After some time, the cultists had prepared everything as the man instructed them and summoned a Blaze. Almost ironically, this false deity demanded their lives as tribute, and the small settlement of cultists was no more. One such child of two cultists, a 7-year-old boy named Lilac, had been out playing in the woods as this massacre had occurred. He returned to find his home burnt to ashes and his family and neighbors’ corpses seared beyond recognition. Unable to fully cope with the situation, he stayed at the ruined settlement, foraging for food on his own and taking water from the nearby river.
Lilac was eventually found by a travelling circus returning from an expedition within the orc clans. This circus had rare talents and were enough to charm the orcs without attracting their ire. Giaccamo, one of the performers and a fairly young man himself at the time, took Lilac in as a younger brother. Lilac had taken full advantage of the circus’s hospitality and would be soon to forget his original family. Surrounded by clowns and jesters of all sorts, he aspired to find his own talent. He had tried his luck first with the acrobats, but he found that he was, although nimble, quite a clumsy fellow. The beast tamer tried his best, although handling animals proved too dangerous for a child. He picked up a few cheap tricks from the magician, but the charm was ultimately lost on the child when he realized there was no actual magic.
In the end, Lilac had found his talent in juggling, specifically knife juggling. Of course, it took practice and many painful mishaps, but by the age of 10, he had become as proficient if not more so than any other knife juggler in the circus. The circus had then been travelling between the dwarves at Thonduhm, the elves at the Black Forest, and the humans at Barramsted. There were a few orcs in the circus, which helped, but journeys past the Jagged Mountains were often very risky. When Lilac was 18, they had set out eastwards once more to visit the orc clans. There may not have seemed to be much sense in going to the orcs, but the circus itself was more interested in being able to entertain an audience than actually making money, a sentiment Lilac would later share.
This expedition to the orcs had been the circus’s last trip. Unfortunately, a drunken chieftain had not very much appreciated coins being “stolen” from his ears. He had declared the circus to be a group of thieves, and they were subsequently enslaved, with the thief losing his fingers. Lilac’s hands were bound by rope as he stared at the night sky, wondering where fate would take him next. To his luck, Giaccamo had evaded capture and returned to free Lilac. Just as he freed Lilac’s hands, a patrolling orc had come and seen what had occurred. The orc began to scream, alerting the entire tribe of what had gone on. Giaccamo stayed back, ultimately sacrificing his life to give Lilac enough time to make a hasty retreat. Lilac wandered for quite a while after becoming free, and he had once again lost his place to belong. He eventually returned to western Saphriel and now performs on city streets for a modest living, ever struggling to maintain a smile during hard times.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each):
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
“Oh my,” Lilac says as his attention turns to the little pickpocket. Noticing a momentary split in the crowd as the child runs away, Lilac is quick to pursue the little rascal. As he runs, a grin creeps up on his face; Lilac is enjoying himself. However, after bumping into many people and tripping over many small boxes, he finds himself very out of breath. “You win this time,” he mutters under his breath not all too displeasedly as he resigns himself to a relaxing stroll, humming gleefully all the while. Lilac eventually returned to the more crowded venues of the city, juggling rocks with his cap set on the ground in front of him for people to toss their coins into.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Lilac remembers his time with the circus’s beast tamer, and if there had been one thing he was able to learn, it was to treat animals kindly. He rushes over to pry open the bear trap, sympathizing with the beasts. The consequences of this act ultimately fly over Lilac’s head, prioritizing the words of people whom he had considered family. There was no deep consideration, he was quick to act upon what he felt was right, oblivious to the fact that the wolf would likely bleed out and suffer the same fate.
Extra Notes:
I heard about this server from a skype group with Cyshadichu, rain0611, and Thovian.
Lilac’s Theme Song: “Broken Moon”
Accepted
Perhaps a bit older, but anywhere in the 20-22 range would be fine. Pick whichever you feel works best for your character.
Server IP: 192.99.20.170:30352
Texture Pack: http://resourcepack.net/conquest-resource-pack/
Website: http://therealmofsaphriel.enjin.com/home
Denied
I have been in contact with a few people and the staff team has come to the conclusion that you not be allowed to be a member of our community, Thanks for the interest though I know it's without promise.
Pending
This application is almost at the point we would like it at, but we would like to see the personality and backstory sections expanded on so that we may get a better sense of the character.
Accepted
This was a very enjoyable application that was written wonderfully. I cannot wait to see Keletheryl, Gregory, wandering around in-game! The magic application was very well done, The thing to remember with a child is that magic is very physically draining and even with practice a kid may never be able to reach the same potential as an adult.
Server IP: 192.99.20.170:30352
Texture Pack: http://resourcepack.net/conquest-resource-pack/
Website: http://therealmofsaphriel.enjin.com/home
Denied
Thank you for the application, but there were a few issues that we came across. Summoning demons is something that requires an affinity for dark magic and training in the art among a swarm of other things. If it was not the man that they came across performing the ritual, it would not have succeeded unless by chance there were some members of the group that possessed the gift for magic and spent months or years training in dark magic.
Another thing is that it would be very unlikely for orcs to be a part of anything but battle with the races of the Alliance, even a circus. The circus would likely stick to the Alliance lands, which were growing very sparse at the time that Lilac would have been a part of it. The latter part of the biography works because the Pact War has ended about three years ago (When Lilac would have been 16 with his current age of 19).
----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN: MasterMetaphor
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): MasterMetaphor
-Do you have any prior role play-related experience, if so could you give an example? I do indeed. I have role played on multiple medieval servers such as Gildorym, MassiveCraft, and Alaurin. As well as experience in alternative roleplay genres such steampunk, cyberpunk, and ancient roleplay.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is the act of forcing an action or refusing to take damage. It is also making a character too powerful or untouchable.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Meta-gaming is the act of using knowledge gained Out Of Character in a In Character scenario or giving Out Of Character knowledge to another player In Character.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Role-play is creating a character and living out the life of the character in a set environment. This includes developing relationships and creating a standard of living for said character.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Darion
-Character race: Human
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 23
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Blacksmith, Hunter
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Darion is a human male, standing at 6' 4", a 3 foot shoulder span, and large barrel-chested build. He has a scar across his face and tattoos on his arms, inked on through a series of needle-points and ink along with a brand on his upper left arm. His hair is a deep red color which compliments his tanned skin and blue eyes.
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
Darion's personality revolves around his hatred for civilization, his disdain for government, and his rage upon any who would claim themselves to be a leader but sit quietly while suffering endures and prospers under their reign. Darion's general experience with people of all races is mostly negative slowly creating an anti-social personality disorder that eventually turned into hatred for many. It was this personality disorder that made him become a wandering hermit, never wanting to stay in a city or settlement longer than he needed to. However this hatred does not extend to those who has formed a relation of some sort with him. Darion sees value in life, regardless of race, however won't often step forth to save it unless he is directly involved with the person or creature in some way and understands the principles of hunting and over hunting, never killing more than he needs and finding a use for multiple parts of the carcass and burying what he doesn't use. Darion learnt from a young age the cruelty and waste of people of all races. He saw that no race was infallible, though they may claim as such. Every living being is capable of morality and thus evil exists. Some see evil as a presence that may threaten entire kingdoms, but true evil threatens individual lives. Ruining happy lifestyles of those too weak or few to fight back. Destroying families for only a palm of silver. In Darion's eyes this was true evil, the gods spoke not unto these wicked ones, they did not enact divine vengeance upon those who torture and hurt so many. They do not rage out at the slave traders, nor bandits, nor the malcontent of the world. In his eyes the gods hold no use for they care not for those who pray hardest to them. The struggling mother, the desperate father, the dying child. Where is their retribution? Where is their revenge? These questions and many more plague Darion's mind. He has become a man who does not willingly associate with other people, preferring to live in the wilds and forests of the world. Fending off animals, running from beasts he could never hope to overcome. Running. Always running. Perhaps trying to escape his own mortality...or maybe to escape himself.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Darion was born to a northern woman named Veronica, a slave taken by sea-raiders. His existence began as a slave child, branded from birth, bred for the sole purpose of being sold later on for a high price. His mother had little control of her own destiny, and his father was none other than a slave trader. Darion's mother was purchased along with many other women to breed strong stock. There was no love, there was no passion, there was no joy. Darion was worth no more than a sack of silver to his father and the same went for his half-siblings and mother. One day Darion, 5 years old, was taken out of his confined prison like home and walked through town with shackles on his hands and feet. He saw the people, the merchants, the slavers, This was his first time walking among them. When they reached a pit in the ground with railing around it. He looked in to see a starved dog, snarling and barking at the people as they threw stones and sticks at it. Darion watched it in horror hoping to not get closer to such a beast. Suddenly his shackles were removed and he was tossed into the pit with the dog who backed up and snarled at him. The merchants cheered and a club was throw in by him. He grabbed it and stood shakily to his feet, looking to the dog with fear. He quickly realized what this was; a fight to amuse passing wealthy men and merchants. The dog lunged at Darion, his small body tossed back by the force. It bit into the club and struggled with Darion before ripping it from one of his small hands, his right hand holding fast to it as the dog bit into his arm and he screamed. He begged for help, begging for someone to save him, but all he saw were the faces of the slavers and merchants cheering on the dog as they held their bets. Darion couldn't think, he only knew this dog was going to kill him. The dog bit deeper into his arm as blood flowed forth and Darion's mind raced with fear and terror. He was going to die unless he acted. 'Die...I'm going to die' he thought as the pain pulsed through his small body. 'I-...I don't want to die!'. Darion swung the hammer and smacked the dog off of him. His body went hot and he screamed at the dog. He felt his body rush with rage knowing if he didn't kill the dog it would kill him. The dog lunged at him once more and Darion screamed as he bashed its head in. The dog lay dead but Darion continued to scream and beat the dog with all his might, shattering and breaking its corpse as the merchants and slavers watched. At first it was silence but then they cheered for him. They cheered for the boy who was beating a dead dog. Darion looked around but he no longer saw people. No, these were monsters in human clothing. He realized then that people are cruel and hateful, incapable of any compassion towards something with no worth. Darion was taken from the ring still panicking and his wounds treated as he was reshackled. His father looked at him content, like one looks at a prize trophy. Darion never learnt his father's name, he never asked either, to do so would mean to end up like the others who disobeyed, dead. As Darion grew older his mother spent whatever time she could with him, he was her pride and joy, as he was her first child. She taught him things to do in the solace and quiet, things like carving driftwood into shapes, how to write, and basic reading. Though his life was not his own, his mother wanted nothing more than to keep him safe, and one fateful day she got her opportunity. Darion's father had left to do some trading when the village came under attack by an army, seeking to disrupt and end the slave trade in the village. However the raiders, bandits, and slave owners fought back, even going as far as killing the slaves so they could not be freed. In all this confusion Darion's mother, Veronica, leapt forth with Darion, only 7 years old, and an old dagger. Many slaves took off after them, following them away from the perilous fight.
For days they kept moving, stopping only to find food. His mother told Darion to find firewood as she dug around in the ground. Darion returned to his mother, striking a flint rock against her iron dagger to make a spark on a small pile of brush and pine needles. She started the fire and had Darion set down the wood. They sat at their fire as a sound was heard from the forest, rustling, lights appearing through the trees, and the barking of dogs. Some slave traders had followed them, and there were many of them. Veronica panicked and grabbed Darion, taking off into a sprint, she hoped she could out run them. As Darion layed in her arms he heard a sound and watched his mother's face wince in pain. She kept running as arrows flew past them. Veronica looked over at a ledge, running to it and looking down at the roaring river below. Veronica looked back at the quickly approaching slave traders and raiders, then to her son. She kissed his head and whispered to him "I love you" before jumping off the ledge to the roaring rapids below.
Darion awoke, laying on the beach, his entire body hurt but he couldn't move, the pain was excruciating. He managed only to look over at his mother, who lay there beside him, an arrow shoved clean through her, it was then Darion realized what the sound he heard was. It was the arrow that pierced his mother. Soon another horrifying realization hit him, she wasn't breathing. The arrow had gone deeper from the fall and now Darion, unable to move or even look away, was left staring at his mother's corpse. He tried to scream but his throat hurt far too much, he could only make out raspy gasps as he cried, staring at his mother who had given everything to keep him alive. And now he was left alone, no one to help him, unable to move his broken legs and arms as they throbbed in agony. He laid there for two whole days listening to the sound of the world. The birds chirped, the water roared, the wind blew through the trees, and the various animals chimed in from time to time changing the tune of this pathetic existence of his. But then one morning, he heard a new sound, footsteps. He mustered every last bit of strength he had just to look towards this wondrous new sound. He saw an old man, large in build, holding a fishing rod in one hand and a tackle box in the other. The old man dropped both when he laid eyes on them, the dead woman and the small child lying by her. Darion cried, he cried and he screamed for help. The old man rushed to him, examining his body, and an expression of horror crossed his face at the sight. A child with mangled arms and legs, tossed about by the rapids and left to lay on the very beach he fished on. The old man rushed to the treeline, disappearing for many minutes. Darion thought he was left alone once more, that he was too broken to be worth anything to anyone. He saw the world as his father would. That because he was broken he was worth nothing. but then the old man came back with a stretcher, gently sliding it beneath Darion. The old man looked at Veronica, his instinct told him she was already dead and had been for some time. He carefully carried Darion back to his home where he laid him on a bed and began to set his arms and legs back in place. The process was agonizing for Darion, one that made him pass out cold. When he came to, he heard the sound of metal being smashed together, the sound rung out, like a beautiful bell ringing. He listened to it, still unable to move. The sound stopped and soon after the old man walked back in. He looked at Darion and knelt beside him, asking him "Ye a'ight?". Darion struggled to move at all but he managed to give him a nod. Darion asked, "Why did you save me? I don't have any value no more". The old man glared at him and asked in turn, "What makes ye t'ink ye got no value?". Darion looked at him and said, "My body is broken....I can't do anything...I'm useless and must be thrown away." The old man shook his head and said, "Nay lad, every life be precious, even da lives o' da animals in da woods. We hunt 'em but we also protect 'em. Tis a give an' take. Every un 'as value. Regardless who it be". Darion stared at him in wonder. 'Everything has value? Even me?' he thought to himself. Darion gulped and asked the old man, "What was that sound just now, the ringing sound. When you were outside". The old man looked at him and raised an eyebrow before saying, "Twas me forge, I make tools, nails an' 'inges fer nearby villages". At this word 'forge' he asked, "What does a forge do?". The old man smiles and said, "Tis where blacksmiths work and live most deir days". Darion's eyes lit up, he didn't know what blacksmithing entailed, only that he wanted to make the beautiful sound he had heard. The ringing sound that was so short yet sounded so sweet, like a bell. Darion looked up at him in wonder as he asked, "What is your name?". The old man smiled brightly as he said "Gount...people call me Master Gount, an yer name?". Smiled back just as bright, "Darion".
It was 3 years later, Darion, 10 years old now, helped out at the forge. He got materials, moved water, sorted the tools and even learned how to make basic nails. But today was to be no ordinary day. For today Darion began his true apprenticeship under Gount. Today he would learn to truly work metal. Darion was excited as could be at the prospect of finally making that sound he loved to hear so much. Gount was much older now as well, getting into his late 50s. Darion was anxious to begin his training. They day passed quickly as Darion struggled to just dent the metal, withstand the hot heat of the mighty forge, and lift the metal with tongs. The day ended but Darion's blacksmith training had only begun. Many years later Darion was a much larger, stronger boy. Darion, now 16, had learnt all Gount had to teach him. Except one thing. Gount had left to go get the materials for this last lesson, when he returned he had a cart, loaded with materials, some Darion had never seen before. Gount smiled at Darion, but Darion did not smile back. Darion asked him sternly, "How much was all dis?". Gount kept smiling as he said, "I spent almost all me silver I 'ad left on dese 'ere materials, dis lesson be da most important o' all. Learning ta smith stronger metal". Darion was still angered by the old man spending so much money but he let it go. He realized Gount wanted this to be the best lesson yet as it was their final lesson. Gount, 63 at this point, had worked his body to the bone over his lifetime and in his old age the toll was great for him to do anything. From now on Darion would run the Smithy and take care of Gount as he had taken care of him. But first they had to complete their final lesson. Darion asked him, "What tis dis metal an' what makes it so special?". Gount looked at him and said, "Dis metal tis stronger. Da process be longer an' far more tryin'. Be ye ready, Darion?". Darion smiled and nodded. Gount responded in kind and began to unload the materials. Darion assisted him and helped him lay everything out. Soon the process began and by the end of it Darion had learnt the crafting of steel. Darion was proud of himself and this pride shined forth from Gount as well, knowing he had taught Darion all he knew and could finally live the rest of his life peacefully. Unfortunately there are no such happy endings in the real world. These years of tranquility were but a calm in the ever raging storm of life, and now that storm was coming back to strip away what happiness Darion had found.
A mere 2 years later Darion had proven himself a great blacksmith. He made tools for the farmers, arrow heads for the hunters and even made equipment for himself, such as a spear. The hunters taught him fletching so that he might make arrows as well, though it took him awhile to get the hang of it. Failing many times before finally making a single functioning arrow. Darion began hunting small animals and prey so that he might save some money on buying food, giving what he caught to the hunters and received a portion back, cleaned and sometimes even cooked. Life was good and the world was calm in this remote place he called home. But all that changed one day when the raiders attacked. Raiders attacking was nothing new and most times the village guards could handle them. But this time it wasn't just a raid, it was a full on attack, many ships and men landed. Darion looked out over the treeline from the smithy and saw smoke and fire rising into the sky. Gount had gone out earlier that day to get some medicine from the herbalist within the village. Darion panicked and the night he lost his mother flashed back to him and he grabbed his head as it throbbed violently. Darion regained himself after a time, grabbed his spear and bow and took off towards the village to assist. However by the time he arrived the village was engulfed, the raider ships sailing away with whatever they could carry. Darion wandered into the burning village and at its center was piles of slain guards and raiders. But it was what was at its heart that shook Darion to the core. Gount had been rammed through with a pike and pinned to a wall, his axe still firmly in his hand. Darion looked at Gount with fear and denial before rushing to him. Gount looked up at Darion and with the last of his energy said, "Leave me...leave this place...tis...no longer safe....run". With these final words Gount died, his injuries severe and his willpower and adrenaline being the only thing that let him hold out this long. Darion collapsed and cried. He cried and thought back to his mother, who had given everything to save him. And now Gount who dedicated his life to raising him. Darion's mind went around in circles almost endlessly before finally he screamed out. He cursed the names of the gods, cursed the raiders, and most of all he cursed himself. It was hours before Darion regained himself, the village now smoldering ruins. He stood up and walks outward. He was broken and silent.
He knew not where he would go or even what he would do. But he swore he would never trust again. He would only survive for himself. He owed that to his mother, Veronica, and to his master, Gound. He would live to find a reason to keep living, regardless of how far he would go or how long he must wait. He would keep moving, always moving. The nightmares of his past still haunting him to this day in his dreams.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each)
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
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Darion looks back at the child running, he didn't have much silver to begin with and assumed the child must need it more. He keeps walking, wanting nothing more than to get out of the town and back to his campsite as quickly as he could.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-colored wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
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Darion looks at the wolf, approaching it slowly. As he approaches the wolf would growl at him, her pups nearby and defenseless. Darion goes to release the trap but the wolf would lash out biting into his arm. He winces at the pain but continues to release the trap, then glaring at the mother wolf before flinging her off his arm. The pups scurry behind her as she limps, she will likely be killed by anther predator in her current state but that wasn't his concern. He examines his wound and reaches into his satchel grabbing a flask of water and some wrappings. Washes off the wound and wraps it, he would treat it fully when he reached the city and got more supplies.
Extra notes (Optional, could include theme songs, pictures, etc.): http://i.imgur.com/WufiAAX.jpg
-----Minecraft IGN: energon343
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): K-lub_Grow-again
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
Dungeons and Dragons, Tunnel Rats, Pathfinder, Minecraft RP, forum RP, RP on a mobile app
-----Define Power-gaming in your own words: Creating a nearly perfect character, or doing things with your character that shouldn’t be possible, such as a child lifting a car.
-----Define Meta-gaming in your own words: using knowledge that your character doesn’t posses in character, or guiding your character down a preset path with no variation whatsoever
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Placing yourself in another person or character’s shoes, and pretending you are that person, guiding their decisions and influencing the world around them
----IC Info----
-Character name: Zyn Dach
-Character race: Dark-elf
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 30 years
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Hunter
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Zyn’s skin is a fairly light shade of gray, while his eyes are a dark, intense red. He has two scars on his face, one crossing over his left eye, the other one starting at his right cheek and meeting the other scar above his nose. He, like most Dark Elves, has a rather lean, muscular build. His shoulder, back, and chest muscles are well defined from many years of using a bow.
Zyn doesn't care what he is wearing in a casual situation, but much of his wardrobe consists of deep greens and browns, and other practical colors for blending into the trees and other various flora around him. He normally tucks his hair behind his right ear, and allows the hair on his left side to hang unchecked right above his eye, covering most of one of the scars covering his face.
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
Zyn is generally an agreeable fellow; his enthusiastic grins and laughter, coupled with his brilliantly shining eyes, generally take away from the unsettling effect his scar has on most people when they first see him. This being said, he has a very strict set of morals, and any who go against these, or even suggest it, often are the subject of scorn from Zyn.
Zyn believes strongly in the idea that nature should be treated with the utmost respect, and those who don’t use every part of their kill, or sell it to those who will, deserve to be punished. Keeping this in mind, he doesn’t think it is his place to take justice into his own hands, and rather leaves it to the God of the Hunt.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
(The age will remain unchanged, due to the fact that Zyn did not hunt these bears on his own, and was in a hunting party supervised by his father. I killed my first deer at the age of 7, and believe that in a society heavily based on the forest, killing multiple bears at the age of 17, despite decelerated aging, is completely plausible)
Zyn was around the age of 17 when he earned his scars. His father didn’t want to take him along to hunt a prize bear that was terrorizing the other denizens of the forest. Zyn didn’t agree with his father’s decision, since he had killed many bears before, and had assumed his father wanted to take credit for the kill. A few minutes after his father left with several other elves to find the bear, Zyn slunk out of their house, evading anyone he knew and eventually leaving the tree.
After an hour and a half of tracking, Zyn had started to lose heart. He didn’t particularly care about the bear, his father had just made him angry because he was trying to claim all the glory for himself. He sighed and turned around, his heart dropping into his boots; he was lost.
He backtracked, and second guessed himself, and repeated this process countless times before he decided to make a life changing decision; he found a nearby, hollowed out tree and elected to spend the night there. He stepped inside and turned to his left, and was immediately rewarded with a roar that shook the ground from behind him. He whipped around just in time to see a claw flying towards his face, and managed to turn a blow that would have snapped his neck into a deep scratch across his face. He quickly unsheathed his hunting knife from his belt, the weapon seeming impossibly small in his hand. He assumed a crouching position, ready to face this gargantuan monster.
After what felt like hours, but in actuality was only around five minutes, Zyn had a second wound across his face to compliment the first one. He was backed against a tree, and had just begun to give up and pray to the Gods, when several arrows pierced the flank of the creature. It rose to its hind legs and unleashed a mighty roar, the action covering Zyn in saliva and chunks of the other unfortunate denizens of the forest who had fallen to the bear. The bear turned to face its attackers, and was immediately met with three spears the stomach, and one to the throat. After a wet snarl, the bear took its final breath and collapsed, Zyn following suite due to exhaustion.
Zyn eventually woke up, and was sitting in the back of a cart pulled by a horse, driven by his father and his hunting party. After a brief tirade, Zyn's father embraced his son, crying and yelling and chastising and reassuring them both in rapid succession, to the point where Zyn wasn't sure if he was being punished or rewarded. After a while, Zyn's father pulled away, and sat in silence as they rode towards home. Zyn was kept under close watch from that moment onward, mostly due to his father's increased caution when it came to his son's actions after the encounter with the bear, no matter how much Zyn attempted to convince him would never happen again.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each):
--You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
--Zyn laughs as he talks to the merchant, inspecting a quiver of high quality arrows. He could make his own, but due to his lack of experience with blacksmithing, he only used stone arrowheads, and these were steel. As he begins to finalize the purchase, he feels his belt become lighter. He turns and sees a child sprinting away with his coin purse, and immediately chases after him. He was definitely faster than the boy, but the boy knew the city. It took him much longer than he would have liked, but he eventually catches the boy by the back of his shirt, kicking his legs out from under him. He retrieves his coin purse from the boy, digging his knee into the boy’s back. “The dwarves make better targets.” he says, smirking slightly “They’re slow, and they have the reach of a toddler.” He rises to his feet, tossing the boy a handful of coins. “Get yourself some food. I’ll remember your face, and i’ll come to collect my debt whenever i see fit.” he says, securing his coin purse to his belt, returning to the man selling arrows, and swearing to himself upon arrival. The vendor had packed up and left.
--You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
--Zyn, always cautious out in the wilderness, picked up the whining from some distance away. He slowly unsheathed his blade, approaching the source of the noise. He eventually comes across a wolf, caught in a bear trap, with three pups. He kneels beside the wolf, and mutters a brief prayer to the God of the Hunt before slicing its neck, doing the same to the young wolves beside her. He scavenges around, and eventually gets enough wood to fashion a makeshift sled to drag the wolves across the forest floor and back to his home, where he would skin them and create a cloak for himself out of the pelt, cook and eat the meat, and sell what he didn’t use at the local market. He did not believe in wasting a kill, and would sooner give away the whole thing for free than just leave what he didn’t use to rot.
(edited backstory)
----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN: lilac_1
-Skype name (Optional, for server OOC chat): ak10itoh
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
I have played on Minecraft RP servers (most recently Asmalur) and a few D&D campaigns with some minimal experience with forum RP. One character I had was Akio Itoh (skype name) who was a blind man serving a royal elven family as something of a bodyguard/butler/retainer/manservant. I had set chunk rendering to be as low as possible to create that feeling of "blindness" and my RP with him mainly involved him getting into mischief (unintentionally IC, definitely intentional OOC) because of his lack of sight.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is moving the RP in a direction without the consent of the other members. It can involve making a character’s actions extremely unrealistic and taking control of someone else's character.
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Metagaming is using knowledge obtained OOC and using it IC.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Roleplaying is taking on a persona that is not your own, however similar or different. As the word itself implies, it involves playing a role and acting, and maybe even thinking and feeling, through a fictional character’s perspective.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Lilac
-Character race: Human
-Character gender: Male
-Character age: 19
-Character Occupation (optional, note you still must talk to the lord about loaning or purchasing any stall/shop for your character if he/she would have one. This more or less helps us to better understand your characters starting skill set): Knife Juggler / Performer
-Character description (At least one to two paragraphs describing your character’s visual appearance.):
Lilac is 5’9” and a little on the scrawnier side as a result of not eating very much. He has narrow brown eyes and messy black hair. He has very prominent cheekbones and his face comfortably fits into a childish grin. His attire consists of a sleeveless cloth tunic with a cloth rope belt and cloth leggings. He wears a small white cap (almost like a kippah).
-Character personality and traits (At least one to two paragraphs describing their personality traits and/or quirks.):
Lilac outwardly appears to be a very jovial person who simply enjoys joking around. People that spend more time around him might notice that he as a little off and might be too happy all the time. In truth, Lilac is simply uncomfortable with more somber tones. He is not necessarily an idiot and can understand people’s feelings like an average person would, however he prefers to keep a smile and continue to jest. He will try to avoid combat whenever possible. His tragic past has caused him to hate violence, and if he could do anything to make someone else’s life happier, he would.
Lilac has no form of education and his general knowledge of the world is wanting. He is also illiterate. He is good accuracy at throwing small objects such as knives and is arguably one of the best jugglers Saphriel has ever seen, a skill which he had honed for most of his life.
-Character biography (At least three paragraphs describing your character's history and experiences):
Once upon a time, there was a group of likeminded madmen and madwomen who had left their urban homes with the belief that the world was plotting against them. Most of these people were peasants, and only a few of them had children. One of these children was a boy, seven years of age, named Lilac. These misguided pilgrims headed to the northeast to settle by the Jagged Mountains. A nearby orc clan had found the settlement and, angered by the sight of humans so close to their territory, were quick to massacre them.
Then comes the first stroke of magnificent luck in Lilac’s life. He had been out playing in the woods while the slaughter had occurred, being able to avoid the ordeal entirely. Lilac, not the sharpest tool in the shed as a child, had gotten himself lost in the woods, and it was not until the following morning that he found his home in ruins. Denying what he saw, he looked around to find corpses, most of them mutilated or burnt beyond recognition. His trance was broken when he noticed an orc scouting party heading in his direction who had not noticed him yet. He turned and ran away without looking back, fear for his life allowing him to forget his despair if only for a moment.
Lilac was eventually found by a travelling circus which had come out of the nearby city of Falkvard, before its invasion by the Pact. Giaccamo, one of the performers and a fairly young man himself at the time, took Lilac in as a younger brother. Lilac had not spoken to him of his past, but Giaccamo was kind enough to accept him regardless. Lilac had gone on to take full advantage of the circus’s hospitality and would forget his family in the years that passed. Surrounded by clowns and jesters of all sorts, he aspired to find his own talent. He had tried his luck first with the acrobats, but he found that he was, although nimble, quite a clumsy fellow. The beast tamer tried his best, although handling animals proved too dangerous for a child. He picked up a few cheap tricks from Giaccamo, a magician, but the charm was ultimately lost on the child when he realized there was no actual magic.
In the end, Lilac had found his talent in juggling, specifically knife juggling. Of course, it took practice and many painful mishaps, but by the age of 10, he had become as proficient if not more so than any other knife juggler in the circus. The circus had then been travelling between the dwarves at Thonduhm, the elves at the Black Forest, and the humans at Barramsted. The circus was very racially diverse, containing elves, dwelves, and even half-orcs. When Lilac was 16, they had set out eastwards to the orc clans on the request and payment of a noble who seeked to promote relations after the war between the Alliance and the Pact had ended.
This expedition to the orcs had been the circus’s last trip. Unfortunately, a drunken chieftain had not very much appreciated coins being “stolen” from his ears. He had declared the circus to be a group of thieves, and they were subsequently enslaved, with the thief losing his fingers. Lilac’s hands were bound by rope as he stared at the night sky, wondering where fate would take him next. He had served as a slave for little over a year. Starting out, he had faced many harsh beatings as a result of either slacking off or simply being incompetent. Ultimately, however, the experience made him stronger both in body and mind. He had finally escaped one night with Giaccamo, who had been spending the year plotting their escape. Being a magician, he understood that any sort of deception works exceptionally with a proper distraction. Waiting for most of the orcs to sleep, Giaccamo had lit a tent on fire after much struggle with flintstones he had taken from the mine. The fire was quick to cause a commotion, giving the the two ample opportunity to flee.
As Lilac and Giaccamo exited the camp, an arrow had pinned Giaccamo’s leg. The rest of the orcs had begun to realize what had occurred, and their attention was now directed at the two circus performers. Lilac was very hesitant to leave his second family, but he was then reminded of his early childhood and knew that he could stay and die or flee and survive. The choice was not his to make, as the orcish archer had finished the job with a final shot piercing Giaccamo’s skull. And so Lilac ran once more.
Two years have passed, and Lilac is now 19 years old. He is technically unemployed and homeless, and he makes a modest living by performing in the streets. Despite less-than-favourable living conditions, he is content with his life as long as he can continue to perform, both because of his devotion to the craft and as a reminder of happier times.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios. (At least one paragraph for each):
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
“Oh my,” Lilac says as his attention turns to the little pickpocket. Noticing a momentary split in the crowd as the child runs away, Lilac is quick to pursue the little rascal. As he runs, a grin creeps up on his face; Lilac is enjoying himself. However, after bumping into many people and tripping over many small boxes, he finds himself very out of breath. “You win this time,” he mutters under his breath not all too displeasedly as he resigns himself to a relaxing stroll, humming gleefully all the while. Lilac eventually returned to the more crowded venues of the city, juggling rocks with his cap set on the ground in front of him for people to toss their coins into.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Lilac remembers his time with the circus’s beast tamer, and if there had been one thing he was able to learn, it was to treat animals kindly. He rushes over to pry open the bear trap, sympathizing with the beasts. The consequences of this act ultimately fly over Lilac’s head, prioritizing the words of people whom he had considered family. There was no deep consideration, he was quick to act upon what he felt was right, oblivious to the fact that the wolf would likely bleed out and suffer the same fate.
Lilac’s Theme Song: “Broken Moon”
----OOC Info----
-Minecraft IGN: itsDako
-Skype name: devinmc730
-Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?
I’ve been roleplaying for a couple years now, mainly through Minecraft servers. The most notable servers I’ve been on would be Haeriven, Alaurin, and Kaldor.
-Define Power-gaming in your own words: Power-gaming is forcing an action upon another character or making your character completely untouchable in an RP-Combat situation. An example would be if someone made an action that said “*I swing my sword at your neck, slicing it open and causing you to die*”
-Define Meta-gaming in your own words: Meta-gaming is taking information gathered OOCly and acting as if your character knows this information ICly. For example, if I heard about one character’s deep, dark secrets over Skype or through their character bio and then had my character talk about it, that would be meta-gaming.
-Define Role-Playing in your own words: Role-playing is taking on the role of a character of your own design and interacting with other people’s characters to create a story together.
----IC Info----
-Character name: Evangeline “Evie” Barlow
-Character race: Human
-Character gender: Female
-Character age: 30
-Character Occupation: Formerly the captain of a ship and a group of pirates, though was forcibly removed from her position. She has become rather knowledgeable at the act of sailing because of this. However, she is currently unemployed.
-Character description:
Evie gives off the impression of a fighter with how she keeps her appearance. She is quite tall at 6’2” and keeps her posture proper, never slouching. Her body type is lean and physically fit, looking like she could handle herself in a fight. Her hair is kept short, looking like it was cut this way by a dull knife (Which it was). She does, however, have two long braids that she keeps uncut. Her oval-shaped face has a few small scars from cuts, which pale in comparison to the remnants of scars she has on the rest of her body.
The way that Evie dresses is done with practicality in mind instead of style. She wears a comfortable black tunic, large belt, and fitting green pants. The only splash of personal style she has would be her boots, a simple black and silver pair. In addition, she wears a sleeve of armor on her right arm, specifically covering her shoulder and elbow. She would prefer to wear a full suit of armor, but that wouldn’t be ideal for an everyday outfit.
-Character personality and traits:
Evie is an admittedly self-centered human being with a short-temper to match. Having been the captain of a pirate ship for some time (And a harsh one at that) she has grown used to people following her lead. The mutiny that lead to her being kicked from her own ship has humbled her to a degree, but old habits die hard for Evie. The mutiny also has generated a certain amount of bitterness in Evie, as it's still a fresh wound for her. However, she is able to be kind and loyal to those she comes close to, so she isn’t 100% an irredeemably rude person.
-Character biography:
Evangeline Barlow was born at sea, so she sees it fitting that she lives her life at sea as well. Mr. Barlow, a common sailor of a fishing boat, was taking his pregnant wife for a ride on his boat when she went into labor. Evie’s parents always joked with her that she got her sea legs before her land legs, or that some of her first words were nautical terms. Evie had always loved going with her father on fishing trips and learning more about how operating a boat worked, though the little fishing boat could only keep her attention for so long. She always admired the bigger ships that she would see at the docks, and she knew she wanted to learn how to sail one of them someday. Her relationship with her parents was always rather close, and they both expected Evie to grow to become a fisher like her father. They were correct in guessing that she would find work at sea, but Evie dreamed beyond a simple fishing job.
Finding work was hard for Evie. She refused to settle for any job other than one on a ship, but no respectable ship captains would hire her with so little experience. So Evie looked for some less than respectable ship captains. She worked some connections and ended up becoming a rigger aboard The Red Wolf, a ship of low-life pirates. She was 19 at the time, and she then spent roughly the next five years working aboard this ship, saving her wages and working herself to exhaustion. Once she had saved enough, she bought her very own ship and began to assemble her own crew of pirates. She named her ship The Sea Ogre, finding it the perfect name to invoke fear in those who hear it.
Her crew was an assembly of whoever she could find in various bars and taverns who are willing to do dirty work for cheap, and as such they weren’t exactly the most trustable crew. Evie’s performance as a captain was, truth be told, rather poor. Not in the sense that she was an unskilled sailor, but that she was unreasonably harsh to her crew and wouldn’t accept anything other than their hardest efforts. This very quickly lead to her crew having a disliking towards Evie, and eventually that lead to a full-blown hatred of their captain. One night at sea, her crew acted out a mutiny against Evie, tying her up and dumping her at the docks of the nearest port. In the very least, they had the decency to not kill their captain. That was the last Evie ever saw of her ship, The Sea Ogre. Since then she has been traveling from city to city to look for work, all while holding onto a burning grudge and the hope that she’ll find her way to owning a ship and a crew again.
-Please give us a short RP response to these two scenarios:
You’re walking around the markets at around noon. There’s a lot of people around you, still gathering their items as they prepare to shut down their many stands. Suddenly you feel a gentle lifting of your coin purse as a child graces you and soon after they take off sprinting. You have been robbed.
Evie was wandering the market stalls in search for a new pirate hat, as hers was lost when she was exiled from her own ship. She was just about to give up and head into the local tavern for the night when she felt her coins be robbed from her, quickly whipping around to see the child thief scurry into an alleyway. Evie gave chase to the thief, and with her longer stride she was easily able to catch up, grabbing onto the child’s shirt collar.
She hoisted him up into the hair, his small legs kicking as she sighs to herself. She had hoped the thief was just a dwarf and not a child, so she could at least feel morally justified in attacking them. However, this was a child, and a young one at that. She snatched her purse back from him, grumbling to herself as she plucked out a single coin and shoved it into the child’s hands. The coins were rightfully hers, but she supposed she wouldn’t miss one. She leaves the kid with that, walking back to find the previously mentioned bar, now slightly poorer than just moments before.
You’re heading back to the city through the woods when you hear a whining coming from nearby. Upon further investigation, you come across a grey-coloured wolf that appears to have its leg caught in a bear trap. Around it is three smaller lumps of fur, obviously puppies belonging to the trapped mother. Without help, they’ll all die, but wolf skins are quite valuable too, not to mention that the nearby farms suffer quite a bit from the wolf population.
Evie grumbled to herself at the situation presented before her. She didn’t want to be the one to make the decision for this wolf, but it didn’t seem like anyone else was around to do it. She knew that the wolf wasn’t going to make it. Even if Evie was able to free the mother from the trap, she would likely bleed out or get infected from the wound. Evie figured there was only one thing she really could do, which was to give the mother wolf a swift death instead of this prolonged one at the hands of the trap.
She took a deep breath, sliding a knife from its sheath. Evie wasn’t particularly new to bloodshed, but it was usually in self-defence that she did her killing. The wolf wasn’t fighting back. Evie couldn’t help but look away as she took the wolf’s life, refusing to look at the pups as well. Once she was done she stood, wiping off the blade in the nearby grass before returning it to its sheath and walking off. She didn’t want to profit from the wolf’s pelt and decided to leave that to whoever may stumble across the scene at a later date.
Extra notes: I understand there is a rule against having a character start off as important, and I was slightly afraid that making Evie a former captain of a pirate ship may be an issue with that. I wouldn’t expect it to be, as it isn’t like anyone would know of her ship and she isn't even the captain anymore. However, if it is an issue, please tell me.