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    posted a message on The Realm of Saphriel | Serious Roleplay | Frequent Events | Medieval Fantasy | Great Staff | 1.18.2

    -Minecraft IGN:


    -Skype name:


    -Do you have any prior roleplay-related experience, if so could you give an example?

    plenty. been within the mcrp community for the last four years, any examples would be- well, most servers.

    -Define Power-gaming in your own words:

    typically, the definition of powergaming comes in the variety of twos; firstly, having your character commit to the impossible, be this by lifting more than they're realistically able to maneuver or just being a stupid god figure. (in other words, godmodding but pg/gm go hand in hand) secondly, this comes in the manner of forcing emotes onto other players, disallowing them the viable means of response, more often than not it's just a forced action such as stabbing them in the heart, dead. disallows for any comeback and really eats at roleplay quality.

    -Define Meta-gaming in your own words:

    integrating information that was acquired through OOC platforms and applying it into IC scenarios, like hearing your friend getting mugged on Skype and logging in to intervene at x: .. z: .. - it's metagaming boys!! and just knowing things your character wouldn't know.

    -Define Role-Playing in your own words:

    enacting of a fictional or non-fictional character and portraying as they would. really, it's just playing pretend or acting.


    -Character Name:

    Artellias 'Art' Kayce

    -Character Race:

    Halfsie, a product of Human & H. Elf.

    -Character Gender:


    -Character Age:


    -Character Occupation:

    not really anything??

    -Character Description:

    Artellias boasts an athletic, strapping physique partially towards his father's ancestry, one of mankind, while still maintaining the typical characteristics chiefly found within the Elven spectrum. Height reaching six foot seven, he's by no means a 'runt' but in fact the opposite, one able to roughly keep up with his High Eleven heritage bar a few inches. Pointed ears jolt out of a light honey mane, albeit shorter and by no means as tapered as his Elven predecessors. Hues of lightened gold, nearly a hazel with specs of green reside as eyes, weathered under the toils of his past with dark bags chasing just underneath. But a singular, deep streak of blossom flesh trails up his right eye, from cheek to temple- an archaic scar of times past. Additionally, a rugged, honey-hued beard lines a strong jawline- unkempt by his matter of profession.

    -Character Personality & Traits:

    Artellias' isn't one to withhold an opinion nor judgement, jumping straight into the nitty-gritty of discussion. Honest, be it as blunt or harmful it comes, is something he prides wholly. Too, he has a mild case of anxiety, dreading much social interaction for instead personal discussions among a smaller group of peers. Brazen, bold and brave are all virtues he yields, acquired during his Alliance tenure, though he's about as stubborn as a ram and doesn't keep up to date with the norm. While said, Art prides himself on living a dangerous lifestyle, one of combat to be exact- with such a lifestyle comes the ability of swordsmanship, footwork and average fighting prowess.

    -Character Biography:

    Artellias' rose of an impractically induced C-section which left his Elvish mother slain just prior his coming, not born- but ripped out of a woman under any traditional circumstance, all prior to the Pact War. Heavy disdain rested over Artellias' shoulders during his dual-raced infancy left with nothing but his human father, his mother passing over her first child wasn't something awfully revered, nor one to come of surprise by her racial betrayal. Slaving himself, his father had done what little he could to support Art, raising the now halfsie toddler for his own two feet. Humility was one of the first of his numbered virtues to have been learnt, shining shoes for those of an upper Falkvard caste rain or shine with coin in payment. It wasn't known if they felt sympathy or pity on the half-child, but they did what they could.

    Seven years had passed on, before the half-breed entered what was widely known as the 'Pact War'. From day one, Artellias was ushered far behind Alliance lines, it having been no place for children. War raged, carnage plaguing Saphriel wholly as he'd took to an orphanage for children of the lost. Presumably, his father perished during the racial clashes- somewhere thin and few during the first decade. It wasn't fair for a childhood to be torn away, one to live in fear. Artellias spent the next eleven years preparing for just that conscription- just that purpose he seemed to of been born for.

    Eighteen was the year he'd took up arms, possessing the viable means of doing so through- a plea of vengeance throughout his teenage years. While having not met his maturity by another twelve years, he was young. Far too young although it didn't matter, it was an obligation to the Alliance, an obligation to the lives lost protecting the fairer races. And now it was his turn. Fifty-nine years of brutal bloodshed between either side with his participation, almost by miracle Artellias remained whole- perhaps not as much mentally, but he lived. With a scar to boot, his visage would forever remain memory to his service, the lives lost and obligation upheld.

    But let's get into what just happened with Artellias during the war. Salvation was lost, cities were lost and casualties were beyond thinkable limits, but he remained to see through it all. Beings of darkness perished by his hand, his brothers-in-arms hands, the hands of dedicated defenders. In this, he saw the true face of evil, the countless hordes of the Pact- those too, vile creatures summoned from the depths of hell. It was a miracle all fell into place after the seventy years, having taken up religion as a means to settle disturbed minds. Aderoth put him at ease, having been recovering and living it up for the last few, peaceful years, hopefully pursuing magic to aide him in his.. anti-infernal-dark livelihood.


    -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.

    Artellias typically doesn't carry much of value upon his person for the sole purpose of, well, thievery, usually enough for food or smaller knick-knacks. Decidedly, it wouldn't be worth the burden of his hunting down this small little kiddo through the stampede of market-goers- not the stress he'd have to go through for such a small amount of his lost coin.

    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-co loured 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.

    Perception upheld, Artellias path made a little shortcut under the emphasis of yelping puppos. Nature has a funny way of working and mankind intervened- even he knew as much. Despite his rural, city-life, Artellias cautiously unwound the sprung trap from the mother's leg, who definitely wouldn't forget such a thing. Off the family went, with a limp and three little mutts at her heel. It wasn't about economy, greed or doing better for the farmers, but it was about life.


    -Magic Biography:

    Artellias is of a dual-racial status, having High Elven blood coursing through his veins- which is known that they're highly susceptible to magical influence. Bar this down some and we'll stoop to his duality, mixing the above with humankind. It didn't don upon him for many years that he was a viable casting candidate, having been fed up with the means of the Pact War- it took a lot out of his extra-curricular time, anything dedicated towards his learning was left until the last few years, the years of the present. Untold, however his mother was a graceful practitioner of the elements of cold- which fell for a simple man, much to his unknowing.

    Through faith, Artellias had the revelation strike him with the number of Holy practitioners in the Alliance, not only through magic he learnt his faith, but through the arduous toil imposed upon him. Curiosity struck like a lit match, anything to broaden their casting numbers- these few users were keen on finding those able to learn, and Art didn't look like just any old human, but a mix of the High variety itself, bar a few features. It wasn't anything grandeur, his learning into untapped ability, his gift flowing within, but rather dull. Fixation and flawless concentration were required of him under these weathered mages, grasping an all-rather peculiar rod in which they spoke: "Was a conduit for your casting, a trinket to reveal your gift.. your magical gift.." It was weak, just like him.

    Prayers heard, it was paramount in his furthering of his ability- more so than ever before, for Aderoth to lend him power. Time and time again, stagnancy drained him of his willpower, until he'd a devout breath, one of no more than absolute prayer for Aderoth, and in the morn, a dull- indistinguishable hue of light forged itself into his palm before sputtering out. It was the first success in his arduous journey, and he truly meant it.

    -Please give an example in your own words describing the limitations placed upon those who use magic:

    Typically, both your experience and trinket need to level out at one another. If you're something of a weaker caliber of mage, a weaker trinket will fulfill your requirements to do no more than help you progress. As your skill and ability continues, so does the capacity of your conduit- or trinket to make up for the power you've acquired. Furthermore, to utilize more trinkets requires your own ability to grow- to be stronger than your trinket would result in.. not a good situation, and too weak for a trinket would likely render it far too difficult to make use out of. Safely to say, stick to your levels.

    -Please give a description of the magic system in your own words:

    Magic is something that flows through a character's veins, and is not something that's acquired through any other means. Trinkets serve as the conduit of your magical prowess, a signal of your ability and capability. Aspects define themselves through race, with High Elves leading the charge with four and something like Dark Elves with a whopping number of zero. Furthermore, Aspects are the viable amount of magics available to be learnt by your character, and is a hardcap. Practice makes perfect, practicing your craft alike any instrument until you've a professional or divine level.

    -You are given a weak trinket of -HOLY- 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:

    At the very most, Artellias would be able to conjure up a muddled, sourceless, dim orb of light in his palm with some strained, prayed-for effort. Small, lasting no more than a few moments. Rather boring, however, it is not the only thing he may be able to do for the time being, for I'm certain Aderoth will hear his prayer as he hones his magical prowess to the maximum. With this, Artellias would fulfill his one/three magical aspects.

    ((I'm not sure if I got all the Pact War calculations/dates perfected since it's a little wibbly-wobbly in the lore, however just let me know or correct me on that.))

    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on | ▄▄▄ HOLLOWGUARD RP ▄▄▄ | A fantasy role-playing server!

    IGN: BraydenIRL
    Age: 17
    How did you find out about us?: Pizza.
    Describe the following in your own words
    Role-playing - Act of taking role of a foreign character, proceeding so in which you step into their shoes, and act as them. A pastime.
    Power gaming - Forcefully emoting or bending reality for the better, disallowing for your partner a fair chance, as mostly suggested by combat scenarios. IE: Sergei.
    Meta-gaming - Integrating OOC information, or found in, to IC scenarios for whatever reason it may be.
    Have you read, and do you agree to, the server rules?: I have, and do.



    Character name: Leslie Granger
    Gender: Male
    Age: 34
    Preferred profession: Retired instructor for swordplay, settled for tilling crops and living out his life.
    Physical description: Leslie is a formidable figure, allowing his elevation to peak, by genes, at 6'4. His canvas is contoured with varying archaic scars from past fights and play. He boasts a duet of jades within his orbit, overlooking visages 'pon his view. Complexion alabaster, he's an overall pale man with a grown beard, trimmed and well-kept. Dark locks of abyssal quality mop over his crown, draping to bands over the corner of his face which in often times, impair his vision.

    RP Example #1: You are walking down the market street in a busy day when a man cuts a coin purse from a distracted man's belt. You are the only one to witness the theft, and the thief's escape route seems to be on top of some buildings. What do you do?
    Nothing, Leslie has little outlook or intent on sniveling and coming a snitch.
    He, as many people would, continue 'pon his way, he's no white knight in shining armor. He's a man looking to live and stick to his own. The maiden may cry, whine and pout for her belongings, yet Leslie boasts an uncanny demeanor about him. His only instinct is harm, if she had been so much as gutted, perhaps then, in any scenario, he would have stepped in to interject.

    RP Example #2: You are sitting down in the local tavern, enjoying a fresh meal when a dancer pulls you from your seat and near forces you to dance with them to the minstrel's music. What do you do?
    He would not do much, in fact, he would stiffly stand idle to the rhythm of the room. It was a feat that the dancer was firstly able to bring the man out of his seat, let alone force him to dance. He would not last long, but as one who cares not the opinion and jovial upbeat & swing of the room, would tense and return to his seat, amidst several well-put curses in regards to their abrupt action.

    RP Example #3: You are with your friends and family on a picnic in the mountains. However, boulders begin falling from the nearby cliff, threatening all who attend the picnic. You are near the edge of the scene, and can rescue only a few people from the scene. Who do you save first?
    Children, always the children. It's not a moral dilemma to know who to save, those with a further life to live than his own, or anyone else's. His mother, father, wife were penultimate only to his children. His few chosen were his kids, if he being the only available being to rescue them, it would be them. Knowing that their legacy continues through blood and name, and this tragic event is well-worth.

    Character Background:
    Leslie, beginning from midlife as opposed to a birth, is a well-off gentleman, or so he was. Regimes and schedules plagued his life, in and out, he'd took to a rigorous course of swordplay and etiquette as his family ported him off to the guard. Their expectation was that their son would make a magnificent officer, or even perhaps make the Kingsguard. It was all but neigh, servitude within the guard drew closed. Leslie boasted an irrational behavior, the inability to correspond and effectively communicate with superiors. He was a loose cannon, a man who's own word was law.

    Worth and self belonging washed over him, seeking an approval; a purpose. He had nothing, left to dust after his life fell to shambles. He'd found a woman who put the life back into him, breathing and coursing it like an electrical surge that jump started his poor heart. For years, they remained as one and bore children, green-eyed angels over their homestead in the countryside. Tragically, for undisclosed reasons his wife fell ill to a malign disease, over the course of months of a bedridden state, she sought a sweet release. They had all they wanted in this world, a love, a hope; passion and children. A name, purpose.

    Alone in this world, Leslie took to himself; vowing to remain pure and true to his heart. One. His life was now a mockery, a reminder of the past with every gaze into their children's familiar and reminiscent emerald eyes broke him. He, alone, in the village of Pavic, tending and assembling a meager living for he and his children. Unkeen on reliving the past, his sword put to rest for the better of Lileon.

    3 Character Strengths:
    - Extraordinaire swordsman, yet has it retired. A vice, he never will pickup a blade.
    - Farmer, in present times. Provides, for what he can, the food and till of daily life.
    - Houses exquisite etiquette, mannerisms not often seen. Yet, he's too far uncaring for many of his traits to show.
    3 Character Flaws:
    - Lacks ambition, he will not strive for greatness or a name. He is content where he is.
    - Nearsighted, Leslie is unable to effectively utilize ranged weaponry, or view things afar.
    - Unfortunately very blunt, he'll strike you down with words before he to his blade. Rude, very black and white.
    Minecraft Skin:


    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on Fallout: Shadows of the Old World | Serious Roleplay | Discontinued

    This is the second time I've had to fill out the application, didn't save the first time : ( - Excuse the lack of quality or elaboration.

    IGN: BraydenIRL

    Age (Optional): 16

    Skype name (Optional): braydenirl

    Prior Bans and Reasons: -

    Define Roleplaying: Enacting a fiction or non-fictional scenario in the stead of the character.

    Define Powergaming: Committing the impossible, in simple terms.. Joe does a pentaflip and instantly kills his foe, Will. This is two counts of powergaming, the first being the godly flip which is unrealistic (Could be interpreted as 'godmodding'). The second is the PK of Will's character without consent. This did not allow for a reaction and forced the action upon the character.

    Define Metagaming: Integrating OOC into IC scenarios for perhaps personal gain, or not. ;;- Someone posts coordinates to a secret weapons cache buried at 'x' on accident. Someone else who had read this proceeds to go and find this cache 'magically'. This is blatant metagaming is against the rules.

    Past roleplay experience: Solstice, 2-3 years of misc. MCRP servers. Current GM of Tyrenale.

    Write any questions you may have here: What are the plans to ensure the server doesn't die in a month? Many servers meet their unfortunate demise and I'm intrigued to hear of yours. ((This is really brash, omg. I reread it after, sorry if this is really condescending.))


    Character Name: Leslie 'Les' Chevalier

    Race: Human

    Age: 23

    Gender: Male

    Place of Birth: 'Ronto, Ontario.

    Personality: Typically upbeat and outgoing, Leslie displays a childish demeanor regardless of anointed responsibility onto him. Peculiar for his upbringing, he does show little sign of maturity when the situation is dire and calls for it. He's quite fearful of his surroundings, though the racket of gunfire won't off-put him from his work. Leslie is a male whom is easy to be bossed around and carry out grunt work for his employer or superior. Loyal, chaste and childish.

    Physical Description: While not particularly athletic nor fit, he clearly seems durable for his time in the wastes. Fleeing from Deathclaws and all the other big bad creatures ensure that a person would have a grain of finesse. ;;- Leslie has mellow, as a melting emerald, flowing green eyes that trail around tiredly face to face. Unkempt, bedraggled hair sits atop his head, not a single moment of care has been put into it at the beginning of every day. He has a pale, Caucasian complexion to him with many scars and a neat set of freckles which line his cheeks, fading the further they were from his nose. He stands at around 5'10 and weighs around 160 lbs, this number could multiply depending on what he were wearing at the time present. His attire changes on a near daily basis, though they always grow grimy and musty by the end of the day.

    Picture of Skin (Optional): N/A :( -- To be made.


    • Child Affinity - Gets along especially with children, it's basically himself.
    • Bilingual - Speaks French alongside English. An uncommon language, surely.
    • Charisma - He has a certain thing for talking, the gift of gab.
    • Precision - While aiming down the rail or through a scope, he has a sharp eye. Requires glasses present.
    • Perceptive - Has a keen eye for most things. Requires glasses present.


    • Heavy Armament - Cannot effectively utilize heavy weaponry. (Miniguns, Flamers, Incinerators, etc.) Requires further training.
    • Four Eyes - Requires the grace of eyeglasses to be able to see clearly. Effective at mid-long ranges.
    • Geographical Idiot - Not the sharpest tool in the shed. Lacks societal knowledge outside of their region of Niagara/Canada.
    • Kind of weak - Can't utilize heavier melee weapons effectively. (Sledges, pipes, reinforced bats, etc.) Requires further training.


    • Mirelurks. They're terrifying, what else could be said?
    • Deathclaws. I think this is self-explanatory.
    • Yao Guai. Bears. Canada. Mutant bears.
    • Heights. He doesn't experience heights that often, but when he does.. he's surely afraid of being up high!
    • Deep water. You never know what lurks in the depths!
    • Raiders. Come on now, while they do their job to intimidate, flinging around body parts really ticks a nerve. He doesn't want it to be his parts.

    Character Biography: Here was a child who had a lack of any specialties. Nothing was peculiar or even notable regarding the youth, only perhaps his mischievous demeanor that followed him around everywhere he had went. Moreover, his parents were Canadian loyalists who'd been apart of the OLA (Ontarian Liberation Army) - Relevance? - Meaning that Leslie hadn't spent much time lingering around in any single place, simply put, a wasteland nomad. They went from Ottawa, 'Ronto, up and down Georgian Bay and Lake Ontario, mostly on reconnaissance.

    His youth was primarily composed of him being kept on his feet, never growing attached to any one thing at a time. He could always sit and marvel though could never touch. The child was imbued with a natural patriotism for Canada, acquiring a light distaste for Americans and their annexation of Canada was purely by his parents hatred, which was likely instilled to them generations before himself. This is nearly non-existent to present day, though his strong feeling of nationalism and diversification remains.

    It wasn't long for Leslie to of learnt that he needed a set of spectacles, for what he marveled in 'Ronto was the bright lights being blurry. Naturally, it was trial and error for his eyes to find the correct set of lens and adjust. This came with time, perhaps an upward of a few unbearable months. He was neutral to most and all things after he met his teenage years, never developing the pattern of extreme nationalism from his forefathers before him. It wasn't long at all for his parents to find their decease, going into detail would only be mundane and pointless. The youth, despite him being in his twenties at this point couldn't actually be considered an adult, traveled on his lonesome. He developed fears, made relationships and did things he hadn't ever done before finding Niagara in his aimless shamble.

    ((This backstory really sucks, it was pretty jumbled after my second time at it. Sorry for the terrible narrative, more-so an outline.))

    Roleplay Example:

    There was a rumbling noise, the crackling of the skies above them as their feet made a sloshing, repetitive motion into the soily-mud beneath them, they knew they had to make haste before the downpour began their onslaught. "Eh' - Let's hurry on up'en, y'never got no idea when it'll come down. Too arbitrary t'make notice." one spoke, a male.

    "Oui, fair point." the other spoke, a tinge of femininity in their voice. "D'ya reckon we'd put up a canvas, stick out under it?"

    "Nah, - Well, actually." he'd chuckle, the sound of fabric turning as he closed a fist to punch the woman's arm. "Good idea." She recoiled, wincing as she perked up a brow at his sudden behavior, frowning. "Ye-eah' - Y'know, y'coulda' told me, la putain."

    He halted his step, turning to give her a devilish grin before carrying on, rolling his shoulders beneath the straps of a pack as they made onward, probably to safety somewhere.

    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on ~CHAMPIONS REALMS | ~ [PrestonPlayz New Server] [Sponsored by BeastNode] OPEN BETA - Minecrafts First Full Game


    IGN: officialbraybray

    Forum Name: Brayden

    Looks like a good time. Tag or message me if I'm selected for anything.



    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on [Beta Release!] Sylvan - Twilight of Fantasy [Lore] [Roleplay] [Races] [Quests] [More!]
    Minecraft Username:

    What is one thing you like about Sylvan so far?
    : Lore, I enjoy how crisp the server's website appears and the fact that it lacks a grueling whitelist app.

    Will you be joining us?
    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on ◄Simplicity► || A Roleplay Server With The True Minecraft Experience || ||Custom Map|| ||Dynamic|| ||Player Freedom||

    What’s the most important rule?:
    Respect everyone and behave intelligently.

    A woman is in the middle of constructing a wall for the town she resides in. You see two other men doing the same in the distance. She spots you and is immediately hostile towards you, the wandering stranger. First, diffuse the situation and then take it from there.

    Myself: *approaches the wall, looking it up from top to bottom, watching the workers over in the distance; small dark blips.*

    Woman: *hoists herself down the wall on a rope, loosening it around her waist as she begins to walk over to [insert char name].*

    Woman: "Hey, ya' can't come 'round here! it's a dangerous zone! you need head protection ta' be around here!"

    Myself *hesitates, bringing his hands to his hips as he glances over the gargantuan wall, then looking to the woman.*

    Myself: "Well, ma'am, din' mean no harm. I was jus' seein' what the ruckus was about. Heard o' this wall for miles on end."

    Woman: "Ah, yea' local officials en' troubadours came round' ere', puttin' up em' fliers n' whatnot for commonfolk to see this ere' wall we're workin on."

    Woman: "But y'see, can't have em' around ere'. Too dangerous suh' we gotta' tell em' to beat it. You're m' thirteenth today!"

    Myself: *smiles,* "Ah, well. Then I'll be off, good luck on this ere' wall. Sorry f' botherin' you."

    A player who is RP’ing as an inventor is working on a prototype engine in his open air workshop located in town. Another player who plays a notorious street thug starts harassing the inventor for money and machine parts. Interact with them.

    Myself: *He approaches behind two bickering men, seeing no clear reason for their dispute, he steps himself in.*

    Thug: "Now, like ah' said, gimme the fricken' plans or else ya'l find yourself missin' a leg!"

    Inventor: *tenses up, nodding with a few tears forming in the corner of his eye as he collects a few documents and coins from a nearby chest.*

    Myself: "Eh', why y' forcin ol' Blue here to give you his stuff?"

    Thug: *turns himself around, hissing at [Insert Character Name]* "y' best beat it! or I'll give you some of my own justice f' trinna ruin' m' plans!"

    Myself: *He reaches over, grabbing an old, long wooden rod which is propped up against the workshops wall. A few jagged nails protrude from it.*

    Thug: *He watches him carefully, nodding to the inventor slyly about something, taking the queue that it was his time to leave.* "Real men don' use weapons." *he sneers as he slithers away to his hideout.*

    ((Edited, I figured it'd of been more obvious that emotes wouldn't be started or ended with asterisks as I used quotations for speaking; I usually do use them but I find them silly for applications. I didn't figure my use of alignment was bad or distasteful but I guess it comes down to personal preference. Anyhow, here it is....))
    Posted in: PC Servers
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    posted a message on From The Ashes Chapter 1: In the Footsteps of Thaer -|- Serious Roleplay -|- Custom Coded -|- Experienced Staff -|- Active -|-

    I'm too making a new character. I feel like we have a ton of Mercenaries, and I felt like being something that isn't one of twenty! Hope this is good!

    Character Information


    Vilmaya Celynthii


    Twelve in Drow, Eight-Nine in Human.



    Physical description:

    Vilvmaya stands at 54 inches, which converts to 4'5". She has a very weak and fragile stature, weighing roughly 70 pounds. She is perhaps as hefty as the feather in her hat. Her skin tone is a light indigo purple with scrapes on her knees and elbows. She has a crimson red pork pie hat topping her dark indigo purp. hair, featuring a small feather sticking out of the right side. Jagged ears peak out from her hair and spike up to the side of her hat. Speaking of crimson red, she has a summer dress with sewn patches skirting it. Her last distinguishable feature is her glistening, gold eyes which stick out harshly from the rest of her attire, lighting her appearance up with life.

    Screen capture of your skin:


    Vilmaya Celynthii, the young Drow Musician.

    She was born to an outcast community, as most Drows had been fated to. This specific Drow community housed itself just north of the Arturan border, in Mezenia. They resided deep within caverns, spiraling deep down into the abyss. Of course, it was the natural habitat of a Drow, given their racial ability of night vision, it swayed outsiders to entering the depths. Seen as a freak, twisted version of Elven, they were seen as monsters; perhaps a type of scourge by the general populace of the Cordolan Confederation.

    Her family and fellows had conducted spiritual worship and sect practice to the 'Weaver' however Vilmaya hadn't understood the entire concept of what this 'Weaver' was, she though of it as a spider or elder who weaves. The brainwashing for her to become feral and otherwise hostile didn't entirely apply to Vilmaya, for as she was curious about the world as they were curious about her. Her kin took expeditions and foraging trips around the perimeter of her communities grounds during nightfall to ensure safety, however due to their proximity to Arturan, that hadn't lasted much longer. They were hunted like dogs by righteous Elven folk, the battle was ferocious and brutal. Some had fled back to the depths of their caverns, some retreated further north towards Horizon. Others east to the sandy beaches.

    Vilmaya went south.

    While still young and unsure about the world; grasping the concept for why her kind was enduring the hatred it had, she ventured south to the sprawling lands of the City Elves. She found herself at perhaps the most wonderful she has ever seen. Absolute paradise; perhaps a slice of heaven. Her eyes grew larger than ever before, observing the feats of Arturan. She found herself at one of the many sprawling, subservient cities of Arturan. She ventured through the narrow alleys, the puddles and grime that lined them. Though, this was minimal and she didn't worry much about disease, but the true conflict was with the native Elven folk. They despised her, throwing pebbles, rotten vegetables and fruits to an upwards of rocks. They spared no mercy for the Drow child. It was a common event to find herself being shoo'd away from a storefront or from the tavern's waste.

    She squatted in uninhabited slum housing, often finding herself around the jolly aura of a tavern. It was commonplace to find travelers and merchants residing within these taverns, with a seemingly infinite amount of coin was jaw dropping for Vilmaya. She sat outside of the entrance of the taverns, taking spite from the common folk, often having their drink spilled over her deliberately. There was one man, a jolly, fat human whom had invited her in. He was dressed in colorful garbs and had a lute hoisted on his back. He played for hours for the dreamy eyed Drow girl, clearly fascinated with the sounds that he was able to produce. He reached around to his knapsack, pulling out a small, wooden polished flute. He teased her with it, though eventually he had gifted it to her in good will.

    It was a time before the man returned, weeks if not months. Vilmaya had learnt how to play the flute on her own in over a month. Her solitude helped her greatly, however with his return, they together went over songs and how to /correctly/ operate the instrument. He took pity on her, and with this gift it would soon be a means to provide for herself; through entertainment.

    Vilmaya played for the local tavern on occasion, never on a busy night. She stayed with the innkeep in a small closet room, she would clean the counters and mop the store rooms when she hadn't been playing. Vilmaya enjoyed to hide behind the counters and listen to the folk who would enter. Every so often, one would find Vilmaya someone to tell their stories to, helping her learn their language and tales of travel. She was young and in a prime age to learn, though she was more often to be harmed than helped. The jolly man had returned once more, offering her to accompany him on a trip. He had rosy red cheeks and a genuine, friendly smile that Vilmaya couldn't resist but accept.

    They traveled by passenger boat to Rinion from Arturan, arriving in the port nation. Vilmaya was surprised by the diversity of Rinion, seeing for the first time Halfmen, which were fully grown men as tall as she was! The jolly man led her on, they resided in a tavern before continuing their traveling, though the drawback was that poor Vilmaya was required to carry his lute around. They together payed their nightly fee's at the tavern for a nightly performance. They struck out, boarding another vessel headed to Enris.

    The trip was something in itself, the crew aboard the ship had mutineers, many of the passengers being slain for their goods. The ship however had continued to the destined location, Vilmaya hid in a slimy barrel of fish and aquatic life. Or what was once aquatic life. The bodies were thrown overboard before reaching Enris, the mutineers commandeering the ship successfully. Vilmaya resided in this said barrel for a week, residing to munching on a fish. They had docked, the crew disembarking the ship which allowed Vilmaya to safely flee the vessel.

    What is your character’s main goal

    Vilmaya naturally doesn't have a concrete 'goal' thanks to her youth, however she aspires to become a highly favored musician in Enris.


    She is a naturally small-framed, little Drow girl whom is very agile and tricky with her movements. Nightfall is one of her greatest strengths, as a racial bonus as a Drow, she naturally has an advantage at night, with her vision and skin tone helping her mesh with the darkness. Another one of her more favorable strengths is her musical talent, using it to encourage and inspire those she plays for. She also isn't that bad in a tavern. Her ears are trained from picking up notes and sitting in the shadows whilst in poverty, listening to the ramble of the common folk.She has learnt a small sum of her languages as a child, showing a keen intellect from yet a small age.


    Though, her strengths equal out to be also her weaknesses. Her small frame deems her precious, frail and weak to harm. Her body is incapable of causing much harm to anyone else, as she doesn't have much strength to begin with. Illness can strike her easily, her immune system doesn't prove to be the strongest either.

    What is your character's personality?

    Vilmaya is loving, ambitious and kind despite her upbringing. She is full of life and desires to share her taste for music while making back the memories that would soon forge her childhood. While she does have a very active and ecstatic outside, she's an introvert at heart and enjoys the calm of her past tribulation.

    Bonus Language(s):

    Caro - Base

    Arturan - Bonus

    Wild Elven - Linguist I

    Savage - Linguist I (This can be knocked off if her age is too young for two.)

    Character Traits:

    Musician - 2

    Song of Valor - 1

    Song of Rest - 1

    Linguist I - 1

    Keen Hearing - 1


    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on From The Ashes Chapter 1: In the Footsteps of Thaer -|- Serious Roleplay -|- Custom Coded -|- Experienced Staff -|- Active -|-

    Out of Character Information

    IGN: Imperials

    Do you wish to join our community Skype chat? If so, what is your Skype username? khrosovo

    Have you read and agreed to both the rules and the lore of the server?: I have.

    What is the definition of “Powergaming”?: Forcing actions or emotes upon other players against their consent, or a character to be able to do actions that they aren't able to do realistically. Example, a fisherman operating a forge or handling a crossbow without prior experience.

    What is the definition of “Metagaming”?: Integrating OOC found knowledge into IC situations and so forth. Example, Sam found an ancient relic in secret, and his OOC friend Tom confronts Sam's character regarding the relic IC'ly.

    What is the definition of “Roleplay”?: Stepping into the shoes of a perhaps fiction character, acting and emoting as they would themselves, remaining true to who they are as opposed to the person playing him/her.

    Who can use flymod, X-ray and other such clientsided mods?: Not a soul.

    When are you allowed to cause the death of another character?: Within consent and all roleplay leading to it appropriately.

    When are you allowed to speak out of character?: In double parenthesis or in the global OOC channel, given that the time is appropriate.

    Do you have any previous RP experience, Minecraft or elsewhere? Tale of Kemen, Tyrenale, Valenor/Caeldor, Lords of the West, Solstice, Lord of the Craft and various other servers.

    Character Information

    Name: Sullivan Syres

    Age: 34

    Race: Human Oddonwallian

    Physical description: Sullivan stands at roughly 6'3 and weighs just above two hundred lb's. His body holds blemishes and scars from his time on Enris, varying from combat wounds to sun burns. His most noticeable physical feature is his scar which splits down his right eye, once being full of life and green, it now houses a nasty scar. Sullivan's natural hair color is as shown, a dusty brown, which drapes down past his ears and is neatly kept brushed to the side on his forehead. He would appear to possess a strong, naturally stocky build beneath his armor.

    Screen capture of your skin


    A boy born in the landlocked country of Oddonwall, he grew to become a man in his own right.

    Sullivan was the offspring of a dysfunctional couple, Eleanor and Lyov Syres, both peasants in Oddonwall suffering from the constant aggression from the neighboring countries. Raiding, pillaging and death wasn't a surprise to the common folk, almost a blessing given the circumstances. His father was a content farmer, accepting his life as it was and desired no more or no less. Sullivan's mother was a local Oddwallian dancer, earning her coin as tips at the tavern.

    He was the product of accident, forcing the two beings together to support young infant Sullivan. The Deities know it was difficult to scrounge coin to feed the three of them in Oddonwall. Perhaps their only wish was to go a day without the worry of an attack, but it's far too late to find out. A company of outlaws and outcasts consisting of Savages on the final verge of their short lifespan hoping to find death in battle, laid waste to the village they had resided within, capturing the women and babe alike. Lyov Syres landed himself a dagger to the gut, Eleanor soon after. They valued the child as a prize, something to shape and forge as their own.

    Sullivan grew, lacking fundamental education and knowledge from elders. The best he had to learn from was the grunts and laughter of the company as they sat around a bonfire. The men would drink themselves to sleep, spewing their tales and knowledge from the bottle. Sullivan learnt, the prize of the companies efforts and otherwise immoral actions. They hadn't kept his adoption a secret, they spoke of how his mother screamed and cried just before she died, how his father was defenseless and utterly useless to protect either of them. It was the bitter, cold truth.

    The men seeked to tutor this child as if he were their own, teaching him how to wield a blade at the age of ten, or at least around there. The company had nobody specifically good at swordplay, Sullivan adapting and putting their skills to his own use. Sullivan often defied, spoke out against the band of men, demanding his release as he aged, taking a harsh and brutal beating, kicked and left in the dirt. One of these times, he'll land himself his fathers fate. Through trial and error, he learnt how to predict the danger that a being could possess, clearly not pinpoint accurate, he still held onto a good assumption about them. This 'company' dwindled in numbers, suffering casualties upon another Oddonwall raid, the peasants had grown defensive of their villages. Sullivan received his first expert training, an older Savage heading towards his end times, he showed Sullivan how to equip a piece of plate armor that was looted from a dead noble, the Savage clearly prized this possession to allow the child to try it on. It was nothing except a gauntlet, though it gave him the basic understanding of armor and its defensive abilities.

    Sullivan here on out was independent, with nothing except the clothes on his back, he set out to obtain himself employment and coin using his limited knowledge on limited things. On his travels near St. Jessica, he met a young woman wearing a brightly colored dress. This is where he had taken up his first contract to protect a being, though only for a short time she had reached her destination and Sullivan found himself richer than he was before. His protection services had thrived in time, though it was no reputable company of men doing this, only a single man. He landed himself cuts, gashes, scars and scrapes. Sullivan found himself at the pinnacle of his life, finding work within a similar company to that of his childhood, though this time around he was stripped clean and left to die in the vast fields of Beschwall, his pockets empty and nothing else left to prove to the world.

    But not all stories end that way, he rose to his feet with a glint in the corner of his eye. He knew he would find himself back to where he was, to further establish the Syres name and amass the wealth he once had.

    What is your character’s main goal? Spreading the name of the near-extinct Syres family through his abilities and feats.

    Strengths While Sullivan is physically strong, he has a persona which can be viewed as the average mercenary or traveler, full of wit and stories consisting of grimy and dark tales. He understands the need for protection for people with lesser strength and abilities, acting as a bodyguard or employed hand. During his ventures across the land, he picked up the language of the Savages through extensive periods of time and service alongside them.

    Weaknesses: He is endurable and strong.. however he doesn't have an extensive knowledge on the offensive, he better suits the defensive and outlasting his opponents. He too suffers from a blind eye, impairing his vision greatly. With his unrivaled expertise in armor, he suffers from agility and speed as a pay off. His hand-eye coordination is slightly off, as well impairing his offensive capabilities.

    What is your character's personality? Sullivan has a kind, almost sympathetic feel to him. He seems to tolerate and obey orders of immediate superiors, though he shows no hesitation against his rivals. He pities the poor and helpless, holding a soft part in his heart for peasants and family. ~the rest can be found out irp~

    Bonus Language (Caro is free): Savage

    Character Traits (up to 7 points worth):

    1. Bodyguard - 1
    2. Heavy Armor Proficiency - 3 (Light and Medium included.)
    3. Basic Weapons Proficiency - 1
    4. Toughness I - 1
    5. Danger Sense - 1

    Human Trait: Orator

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on I am looking for a Role-play medieval server

    Seeing as this is rather similar to Solstice's application.. apply to Solstice. @ solsticerp.org

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Bastronull: Reign of Lords [Serious Roleplay] [Factions] [Player Driven Lore] [New Server]

    OOC Information (Out of character)

    In-Game-Name: November12th
    Age: 16
    Language you speak: English

    IC Information (In character)

    Character Name: Lyov Lylianei
    Race: Elf
    Age: 32
    Gender: Male
    Job or Hobby: Hunting, fishing, taming, general wilderness survival.
    Appearance: Lyov appears to wear light, ragged clothing with jagged ears which poke out from his hair. He has a very pale complexion and equally pale sea-green eyes to accompany it. He stands at roughly six feet and has an athletic slim build. He has messy facial hair which is ungroomed, as equal to his hair which is a heavy set of bedhead.
    Background Story: Lyov was born to a hunting family within the forests who had fled from the Watchers a century before, gaining expertise in survival from natures conditions and adapting through generation. Lyov learnt basic things from his family such as reading from aged texts and a few other non-required things. He soon came more accustomed to physical training, learning how to draw and fire a bow and survive on his own in the untamed wilderness. He had soon after begun to excel in the families skills and pre-reqs to survive, sending him out to adventure the vast lands to assemble a name for his family and raise his prestige to new heights.

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on [RP Heavy][Limited] - Family of Zellark - [LOTW]
    Quote from nico_the_miner»

    um, just a head's up. by forcing women to do something aganst their will because of their gender is still wrong

    I'm quite aware of modern day feminism and equality for both genders, though this is thousands of years ago where this is non-existent. This is for a roleplay server, not a call of duty clan.


    Posted in: Clans
  • 0

    posted a message on [RP Heavy][Limited] - Family of Zellark - [LOTW]

    The server we're playing on is 'Lords of the West' and we're looking to fill some positions in our noble family.

    "From Death to Catharsis"
    The Zellarks are a proud and noble family. They value family above all else and can be dangerous when provoked. Zellark children tend to adopt many skills, however, focusing on one to fully master. They are always trained in swordplay and are expected to know how to protect themselves. Girls and boys are treated no different from each other and woman are forbidden from just being the mother’s of the house, they are expected to adopt a skill and proceed valiantly in it. Most of the time they tend to try and stay neutral, but they like to hide their true colours with their words and appearances. They care not for origins or race and tend to treat their family all the same, orphan or legitimate child.

    Their sigil represents triumph and their adversity.

    Main Exports:
    Jewellry, Apples, Grapes, Wines and Lumber.



    Murdock Zellark (Age 36): A stalwart and bold man, fixated on protecting and furnishing his family. Unexpectedly given the title of Lord when his older brother, Arjen, stepped down- he has phases of stress in which he may act rash. A compulsive liar and is not the man you want to mess with.

    Farina Zellark (Age 31): An extremely witty and tactical mercenary. Won the heart of Murdock originally through manipulation, but eventually fell in love with the man. Being from low-born, she cares not for standard ‘Lord’ etiquette and treats all her children, ******* or not, the same.

    Arjen Zellark (Age 42): Originally lazy and good for nothing, Arjen tends to be hesitant and slow moving in his decisions. However, his vicious and brave risks have proven helpful towards the family. Feeling bad for his little brother, he now acts as his Advisor. Dislikes his son, Lex.

    Marisa Zellark (Age: 16): A naive, but smart lass who takes after her stepmother. Good at making friends and can act flirty to get what she wants. Is quickly angered and can make ambitious decisions if something doesn’t go her way. Values her family above all else.

    Alexander ‘Lex’ Zellark (Age: 20): A disappointment to his father, Arjen, Lex was raised by Murdock. Kind-hearted and innocent acting, Lex has been known to help the poor without reason and protect those on the street. The good rep it has brought them causes Murdock to like him.

    Lyov Zellark (Age: 14): Young, although steadfast in his decisions from yet an early age; Lyov takes up similarities from his mother in unbiased opinions of his siblings, having charm and elegance where his kin lack. Intelligent and curious, youngest of the family.


    Yua Zellark: Golden brown eyes, Black hair.
    Hector Zellark: Blue eyes, Red hair.
    Arjen Zellark: (Some combo of those two)
    Murdock Zellark: Blue eyes, Red hair.
    Farina Zellark: Brown hair, Sea green eyes
    Alexander Zellark: (Either what Yua or Hector have or different)
    Marisa Zellark: (Same as Alexander)
    Lyov Zellark: Brown hair, green eyes.

    Family Origin

    The noble house of Zellark is young and unmatured, insignificant in size compared to the great houses remaining in the Crownlands. The founding father of the Zellark heritage, Hector, swore fealty to the King Aereas Valyria many long years before his decease. securing a position of nobility for his family name. Upon his death, the eldest son took up his position as Lord Zellark, it being Arjen. Arjen, however, did not wish to be a lord and preferred the free life, thus the lordship went to their second eldest son, Murdock.

    The Rebellion came shortly after, receiving news of one of the Lord's causing an uprising against the King whom they had all swore to. Time had passed, House Zellark being insignificant enough to the point where they weren’t required to raise levies, having the rebellion be a mind of it’s own. The Zellarks took no major part in the conflict, but always provided help to the King, remaining true to their sacred oath. They took in commoners and peasants fleeing from the war, having them shortly after return to work in the vineyards and lumbering camps.

    The King had died, ending his prestigious reign; resulting in civil wars erupting over the Crownlands. House Zellark was not immune to this, Houses that partook in the Rebellion soon came to purge those who hadn’t as they remained loyal to the King. Infantrymen and bandits flooded the fiefs of Zellark. Murdock was fierce in the protection of his lands and family, raising his levies to protect what he holds true. Feeling sorry for his brother, Arjen also returned to help out. They repelled what small quantities were thrown at them, of raging farmers to men holding allegiance to other Houses. House Zellark was soon overthrown, having their fields torched and keeps marauded, killing Arjen’s and Murdock’s sister Karla in the chaos.

    The Zellarks had item value, consisting that of fine jewellry and vintage wines as they fled their homelands in an oxcart. Mourning over the death of Karla and the rest of their peoples, they seeked for revenge over the participants of the Rebellion, hoping to re-establish power and serve justice as meant to be. They sought out for a port, hearing word of other Houses making their mark on an island by the name of Eastfell, said to be free of the death and destruction in the Crownlands. They traded all valuables over to greedy merchants and sea captains for fare to Eastfell, leaving them with nothing but their clothing and wits. The sail across the strait was pleasant.. which was a first for the Zellarks, landing in the city of Seaport seated by the House of Seamont.

    Basic History

    The Zellark line was birthed from Hector Zellark, whom married Yua Zellark later into his life, holding a small estate and vineyard producing various alcohols for the Crownlands. They established themselves as renown brewers, amassing a wealth to pursue other methods of income. They spotted out the lumber industry, with the ever growing population there came need for housing and construction to expand great powers.

    They both eventually settled down into a luxurious villa, hiring peasants to work their lumber yards and brew their signature Zellark drinks. The first child they had was Arjen, a stubborn young buck who was usually very keen on learning and slow to make his decisions. Six years later they had Murdock, from a young age he lied to his parents about his wrongdoings and it grew on him. Karla was the last to be born, only a couple of years after Murdock, she was incredibly irresistible and persuasive in her actions.

    The three grew up with high expectations from their father, Hector who taught them personally, including the Crusades against Syrnia and the coastal raiders of the North. Karla learnt from her mother about Jewellry, forming bracelets and amulets to be worn around their body, Arjen learning about diplomacy and what it meant to be a skilled lord while Murdock mainly learned about combat and brewing. To Murdock’s dismay, Arjen threw down the opportunity to become a lord and handed it to Murdock and disappeared. Unusual with the concept, Murdock was exposed to much stress as he managed a family at the very young age of 15, this being after the death of his father.

    Life continued, Arjen having a child at 22, the ***** he had it with, naming it Alexander. Alexander was a bright boy, keen on helping people and being the most friendliest person around. Arjen disliked Alexander for how happy and joyful his personality was, though Alexander paid no mind. The next child was Karla’s, naming the beautiful baby girl Marisa. Nobody knew who Karla was with, and never will as she would soon be killed. Both troubled by the loss of their dear sister, Arjen and Murdock went through a few years of paranoia and sadness. Taking advantage of this, an exceptionally young and cunning mercenary, named Farina, manipulated Murdock into marrying her. However, this eventually turned as the pair ended up being perfect for each other. At the young age of 17, Farina gave birth to their first child, Lyov, a now 14 year old boy.

    OOC Information:
    If you need a skin, we’ll be happy to make you one if you ask.
    If you want your character to have connections to our family, message below- but it is preferred that family positions are taken first.
    If you want to make changes to one of the characters (Name, personality, ect.) message me on the forums.. We’d rather changes be minor and some changes will not be allowed because of lore.

    Available family positions to be played;

    Murdock Zellark (dietcocaine96)


    Farina Zellark
    Arjen Zellark
    Marisa Zellark
    Alexander Zellark

    Lyov Zellark (November12th)

    Posted in: Clans
  • 1

    posted a message on ~ LORDS OF THE WEST ~ •Roleplay - •Lore - •Medieval - •APPLY NOW

    This is honestly a super great server. I wouldn't hesitate to try and apply to test the waters, see how you feel. It includes vast amounts of political roleplay, combat roleplay and learning of things you otherwise wouldn't have known. It takes aspects from feudal lords and ancient, powerful houses with a mixture of conflict from various nations.

    You start off unaligned, but with the ability to achieve great power and status. Feel free to apply to join any house to instantly jump into nobility (cheat method.)

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on ~ LORDS OF THE WEST ~ •Roleplay - •Lore - •Medieval - •APPLY NOW

    Looks like a good server that I'll apply to. What's the inspiration for this? I want to say it looks like another well known server myself, though am not sure.

    Posted in: PC Servers
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